Several years ago, I lived in an "emerging" neighborhood. One day, I came home to find two gentlemen on my doorstep. One guy was in his 40s. The other couldn't have been more than 16.
The older one proceeded to bust out a rap on me that went something like this...
"Hi, my name is Anton and this Horatio. Horatio is an ex-member of the Latin Kings. And I work for (insert anti-gang neighborhood association here). Together, we're trying to help people like Horatio stay out of gangs by selling subscriptions to (insert newspaper here). If you don't buy a newspaper subscription from us, he'll more than likely drift back into the gang...."
(from here, I'll embellish slightly but you'll get the point)
"...break into your house, rape your wife and spray paint all over your garage door. There's also a good chance he'll eat your cat, whip you with a hot coat hanger and then sell drugs to orphans. Then he'll kidnap those orphans, stuff their tiny buttholes full of drugs and smuggle them over the border and sell them into white slavery. Where those kids will grow up to be suicidal, Russian roulette playing, coke addicts who worship Satan and turn into cannibals. Then before you know it the Latin Kings will have so many enslaved white folks, they'll set them loose on the midwest like an army of rabid, Angel Dust fueled dogs. Farms will burn, churches will be turned into brothels and the entire nation will forced to wear wife beaters, shorts that are three sizes too large and grow shitty, pederastic mustaches—even the women."
So with a back story like that, how could I not subscribe to the newspaper.
Now, you would think an organization that specializes in drive-by shootings would be good with delivering newspapers. Instead of slinging bullets, they're slinging printed words. You would be wrong if you believed this, in the two weeks we had the newspaper, it showed up three times.
Gangs. You're Pussies! Stick to spray painting garage doors and shopping at K-mart.
