Tweeker Malcolm | Forum

I do a lot of fucked up shit too, but at times it feels a bit sketchy talking about it on here, moreso if I'm high on weed because that shit can make me a little paranoid at times.

I also drive to a lot of remote places and it would be really fucked up for the car to break down, even though I got AAA I doubt I could get a signal, plus in some cases I wouldn't have any fucking idea to even begin describing where I am. Recently the fan assembly on the radiator went ballistic, but luckily it was right up the street from where I live, and when the alternator shit the bed it was at a nearby quick stop when I was balancing the tires. The car just shut off and that was that. Just lucky I guess, could have been way way worse.

There was this one trip I was on. I was in a different frame of mind, and I took out the forward dirt guard, and then realized later that I also took out the right fog lamp and cracked the plastic piece surrounding the wheel well.

I'm probably not as lucky as Malcom was. I'm gonna have to take a DEEP course around December, and then I get my my license back at the end of January, hopefully, and then I'll be stylin' next spring and summer. 

The last day I ever saw my friend Scrapper was in the morning of a day when the yellow hummer stopped by to kick Scrapper down with some Junk. After a few minutes, Scrapper walked back into the shop and sat himself back down on his chair and didn't say anything. 

When the yellow Hummer left, Scrapper pulled out of his pants, the biggest fucking chunk of meth I ever saw. It was the size of at least two apples or a small grapefruit. I said: "Fuck!"

Scrapper said: "I gotta get rid of this shit soon. I ain't getting caught with it. Imma call the homie real quick." 

So scrapper called one of his homies down, and they took off together to sell that big rock of meth. That was the last I seen of him. After he was missing for a week, word came down to me that a cop saw the transaction in a parking lot and caught Scrapper with the big rock and they arrested him. 

That was around the same time I last saw my good friend Brad. Brad was in his late 40s. He's a skinhead with American Front. Has nazi tats from his neck, down to his legs. My friend Brad was a serious meth addict. He shoots it up. They call the needles "issues." Out of respect and consideration, Brad never shoots up his issues around me or is high around me. 

Before Brad went to prison, he had bought himself a new car with the unemployment money he got. I was happy that he had a car. He was homeless, and slept in it. 

After a week of having his new car, he took off from my shop and said that he was going to hang out with some buddies and that he'll see me tomorrow. I never saw him again.

After a week of not hearing from Brad, I figured he had gone to prison. He had just gotten out for a few months. 

I called my friend Tina, who is a local Chicana around her late 40s. Tina and Brad are friends. We call him "White Boy Brad," because he's a nazi skin head. 

I told Tina White Boy Brad has been missing for a week and had not come to talk to me or his girlfriend. His girlfriend was a Mexican lady who worked next door to me. Me and his girlfriend were worried about him. Tina said that she'd call around and find out for us. 

Two days later Tina stopped by my shop and said: "So I got some news about White Boy Brad. You're right. He's back in prison. Know why? Cuz he was driving high and the cops tried to pull him over. But dude had dope on him and he didn't want to waste it. Know what he did? He kept driving and shot that shit up, as the fucking cops were chasing him. You know, I love Brad, but I'm sorry. If he's going to do something that reckless with himself and stupid then he deserves what he got."

Brad tried to quit meth. Once, when he got out of prison, he stayed sober from it for a month. We were all proud of him. But he got back on it soon after. 

Brad use to tell me cool stories about how he robbed people with knives and screwdrivers for money to support his meth habit. He's over 6 feet tall. He looks intimidating. He acts cool with you, and smokes a joint with you in a quiet place, and then takes his knife out and switches his personality. He said he's seen guys that act tough like superman cry and piss their pants when they have a knife poking their chest. I laughed. 

The one time I got busted I actually deserved it. I actually overdosed on pure dextromethorphan. I saw time slow down and stop right before my eyes, what a fuckin' trip that was, but as soon a I realized how fucked up I was, when I came around enough, I pulled into the first clearing I came to and passed out. Which happened to be a big driveway.

I did go back to the place where it all went down because I wanted to find out what it exactly it was that I hit that cause the minor damage to the right front(mostly hidden) of the car. The only thing I found was maybe it was a guardrail, but I thought I remembered it was some kind of dirt mound as I was turning, but never found no such thing.

Anyway, the damage was nothing that a little JB Superweld, a few push pins, and a new fog lamp couldn't fix. So just gonna be a bit more careful from now on, and pay special attention to exactly how much shit it is that I'm doin'.

WARNING: RACE BAITING COMMENTARY AHEAD.

Makes you wonder what is natural.  Comfort in homogenous racial environment is being phased out everywhere it is believed it should be. Meaning the more culturally targeted your group is; the less that applies. 

True story: 

In 7th grade came the day I got my first real snap shot of race in this country. My History class all decided to listen to the OJ verdict. Everyone was expecting what they were expecting. 

It was seriously like Family Guy. 

The 3 black kids in the class cheered, and every white kid was as shocked as a liberal on election day 2016. 

Anger vs. Jubilation. Then everyone just sort looked at each-other's responses.

During passing period later.  One of the white kids got pissed at a black kid still celebrating and let loose with a string of racial epithets that literally ended with white kids chanting, 

"Fight Fight nigger and white; if the black one wins well all jump in".

That same week the High School my middle school fed into had a race riot (1 of 3 in a single year) broken up by the swat team every time. 

One was "White vs. Black vs. Mexican"

 One was "Naturalized Mexicans vs. Illegal Mexicans"

 And the other was something similar. 

And that was 1995-1996. 

Today you have the battlefield attempting to attack those endemic social memory actions. 

"You Indoctrinated A Culture of Hate" vs. "Shut the fuck up and quit trying to mandate racial guilt trip". 

While it portends itself to be way more PC I can't help still seeing my racially charged school years in Arizona.  The divide still exists on support/dissent for critical race theory laws.

Here's showing age: 

 I remember the "No" sentiment of a pivotal moment in that states history. 

"So we have to give up Rodeo break as a bank holiday and trade it for a near-mandated one for a civil rights leader? Under penalty of boycott? What about our cultural tradition? We have less than 2% black population."  

That was never reported. And from that a new nomos was written "those that resist suggested political correctness will be scapegoats used to make points about systematic bred racism". 

And that's the story of By The Time I Get To Arizona.  

****************

And because you can't bait without offering your own solution to end racial issues...

Here is my compromise idea: 

Teach "herd minded theory" instead. Teach how the majority of any culture does as the Romans do and ostracizes what is different regardless of locale, lifestyle, or ethnicity since the beginning of civilization.

What is not like the other has never belonged.