This was to be first in a comical series of examples about my neighborhood and my inability to discern a quote-ghetto-unquote from anything short of a subdivision where the median income is $200k/yr. I was here for half a year before I realized that I was living in what most people would consider a ghetto– and only because someone said, “Dude, you live in a bad neighborhood.” This is nonsense: there’s no such thing as a bad neighborhood. The entire idea is a subtle form of racism and/or classism. If anything, I live in an up-and-comer waiting to be gentrified by the slow crawl of plasticine actresses and scumbag directors. I’m probably their shock corps.

Anyway, once you’ve tasted the apple… On my own, I wouldn’t have looked for examples but now I do, and I thought some blog hilarity might be had via the circumstances of the human comedy. About two weeks ago I got off the Metro and there was an awful, awful smell in the air. Fire. I couldn’t figure out where from, so I kept walking towards my apartment and there, down a side-street, it was: a burning car. Firefighters were already on the scene.

I didn’t have my camera, which I immediately regretted. But reality’s got my back: the burned out hulk has been sitting in the same spot ever since. So this was going to be my first jokey post– images of the burned out car & a you know you’re living in a bad neighborhood when… they’re torching cars. Totally awesome!

Only problem: the car is parked in front of the neighborhood drug house. I’m 80% certain that the guys who torched the car are the same guys always in front of the house. Then I had a visionary moment: holy, this is like a salt and pepper set. You know you live in a bad neighorhood when they’re torching cars… and the car’s too close to a drug house to take pictures! #1 & #2.

Huzzah.