ole number six

or where you at
now it's no new phenomenon that urban youth like to piss of the squares by blasting loud music in inappropriate places. i used to walk around as a youth and blast my music wherever i went. bill nunn immortalized the idea of the loud statement against the establishment in do the right thing as radio raheem. but i was young and foolish then, i feel old and foolish now. nowadays when i used to drive through the mother in laws noisy inconsiderate neighborhood to drop off the boy i would blast whatever i had at full volume because "screw you shiteyes! my mother in law doesn't want to hear your music run through bass cones at 3am!" pointless? yes. damn tasty to hear "c'mon c'mon" by the von bondies riding under an el track on liberty avenue as the sun goes down? hell yes.

anyway, the latest thing i have seen the kids do on the number 6 is they have those intercom phones from nextel/boost mobile and for ring tones the usually have some track from fiddy cent on the phone and they play it over and over in a loop because it's all their phone can hold. the speaker is tinny, it sounds bad, you're all hard core looking, so no one is gonna mess with you but, you see, the bastard has a camera.

now this special special man was about two full heads shorter than me. i jest but he was short. and he starts playing the phone. it fuzzes and squeaks and i believe that fiddy cent is broadcasting live from ice station zebra. i take notice. the girl in front of me takes notice. she puts on her head phones. i have none but i do have a camera. he looks the other way and i break it out. no flash, you don't want to scare him in his natural habitat. oh, he's waving his hands in the air. and he's waving like he just don't care. almost got it. no flash means the shutter will take too long. damn! this is what i got. better than nothing. now that i got myself a victim, like a serial killer, i want to do it again. i think i'll have to figure out how to pull more of these stunts.

—the bastard