All the Mexicanos are going to church.  Some are working.  There are two chicken places set up,  one down at the BP across from Northeast High School,  the other up by Fast Stop across from Indiana.  I had a chicken yesterday,  Pollo Asado al Carbon.  YUMMY!

Brandi is out there.  She bums a cigarette from me, and she looks terrible.   Fat,  and with the same dirty clothes on she has been wearing for days now.  She is desperate and dangerous,  so I steer clear.

Actually,  it is peaceful, and how sweet the peace is, as long as you steer clear of people.


Saturday at noon,  go get something to eat.   As I leave, the regulars are coming  out on the stoop.  Charles has a white plastic sack, with fifth of cheap bourbon in it.   I drove down the avenue, where a lone street preacher was preaching the gospel in Spanish, to whoever would listen,  which was nobody, at least so far.

The preacher’s children were sitting on the bare, hot concrete of the parking lot.  His wife was sitting in a folding chair, attentive.    Mexican vendors were in the empty parking lots,  cooking grilled chicken over wood fires.   Big grey plumes of smoke marked them for blocks.   They make some GOOD chicken,  let me tell you.   The usual hookers walking around, and some new ones too.  I parked the car on the side of my favorite restaurant,  Flor de Chiapas.  It is run by a Mexican family,  from Chiapas, of course.  Previously it had been called “Super Pollo”.  Then, the owner had gotten busted, and the police discovered many kilos of cocaine stashed in the cinder block walls.   I order three tacos,  and they are as usual,  very good.

Down at the end building hot, loud words, as the argument from Friday night continues.   Call me a racist,  call me what you will,  NO ONE fights like blacks do.   It’s that ghetto, “I don’t take no shit off nobody.” They really get into it,  and when it starts, it is time to RUN.   Conversely,  blacks can be very sweet,  very considerate.

It takes time to get used to people.  A long time.  They’re always fighting..who did what to who, who ripped off whom.   *Groann*   Who knows why things happened?  You are just a witness, that is all.   You sort of witness people.

The Front Stoop

Everyone out there on the front stoop,  it is Friday.  Mostly poor and black.   People start drinking the stupid juice.  I hate that shit.   A ‘can o’ whoopass, and a bottle o’ loudmouth.’   People are stupid over in Independence, too.   They are stupid everywhere.   “Experience holds a very dear school, but fools will learn in no other.”- Benjamin Franklin.

Dunno if the woman next door is out of jail, and who cares?  I do not like violence.   They are out there,  louder and louder.  A big black woman is cursing and threatening the woman in the leopard skin dress..”and I’m gonna tell YOU somethin’”   Some women like to fight,  they really like it.

One guy says, “if this was St. Louis, someone would have been shot long ago.  They don’t fight and argue too long there.”   He’s from East St. Louis.    It’s not only the blacks.   There are plenty of white punks,  plenty of whatever punks around.  To be honest,  no one fights like the blacks do,  at least,  the poor ones.  They will fight at the drop of a hat.    It’s that liquor, or the drugs.  The liquor seems the worst.

People are doing their best to spoil Friday.

People LOVE violence more than sex,  more than drugs,  more than anything.   Mankind loves it’s darkness.  It doesn’t matter if we were all fed with a golden spoon,  they would still find something to fight about.

Ah, Friday night.  I get some very good tacos from Flor de Chiapas I am in love with those women,  at least their cookin’.   AND..  Sonic has 1/2 price shakes,  so what a sweet reward.  You know,  this place ought to be like paradise on earth.  Man keeps trying to turn it into hell.

Friday,  thank God you are here, but it is time to stay indoors.

Now Craig-o gets his TVee stolen.  That’s what he gets for being friendly around here.   He has a terminal condition,  cancer.  Or at least,  he has been saying that for a year.  He’s got that one eye all clouded over like he can’t see out of it,  there is a film over the eye.  He lives over in the building next door,  which is good,  he can’t knock on my door and bug me.  Not that I mind.  You get used to him.  He is just lonely,  but he kind of bugs you.

He gets drunk, likes to drink,  and leave his door open so he won’t miss out on the “action party.”  Well he got some action,  all right.   The same action you would get with a pack o’ wolves.  The people in the other building, the one just north of me,  got some “action” too.   A woman whops her husband (boyfriend, or whatever) in the head with some object,  hurts him,  and the cops come and take HER away.

Oh well.. the world is NUTS.. just about everywhere you go!

That Hustlin’ Shane

Old Shane, he’s always out there.  He really knows how to hustle up a buck or two.  He goes around to businesses,  offering to take out the trash,  mow the lawn,  I mean whatever.   I never would have nothin’ to do with him ‘cos he drinks,  and was on the “D”,  AND..we didn’t have too much in common.  I’m a computer nerd.  I like nerdy,  he likes Lynyrd Skynyrd.

While I am wrestling with ‘subjective’ and ‘objective’,  Shane’s already made himself a couple dollars.  He has this intensity,  that scares people at first.

While I am figuring out how to make a coin drop from YouTube advertisements,  he’s already mowed the lawn,  took out the trash, and doing generally whatever other people do not want to do.  Which is WORK.

These people around here are all pretty much characters.  You just have to get used to them.

He’s all right.  This quote, I think, from the Upanishads:  “Each one is needed by the other.”

Hammer hammer HAMMER the poor.  That is what it’s all about in the USA.  Hammer the working people, and take away money from the poor, old, and sick.

The real “Thugs” are the wealthiest people.    The rest of us are slaves like in a slave galley.  National Anthem?  This should be this guy beating on a great drum,  and we are the oarsmen.

For everyone I meet, it is just one damn thing after the other.

Everybody in this world is hustling, and it is never so apparent as around here.  At the Aldi I pick up Shane, who needs a ride.  At first I was always leery of him,  he’s got that “prison” mentality.  After these years now,  I sort of like him.  See where he is comin’ from.   It’s called SURVIVAL.    I take him to another store before I drop him off,  and a couple local hustlers try to punk him for money.   This happens all the time in Northeast.  “Gimme $3″, or some variation of it.  Either begging,  trying to intimidate, or whatever.   I’ve had people follow me into the grocery store.   You grow calloused toward other people.

It is not only the street people.  People out in the suburbs aren’t very nice.  As far as saying people are nice in the USA,  well- I wouldn’t go that far.   They just act nice- when it suits them.  Here and there,  there is that golden deed.

People are so slap happy they don’t know what to do.

Write about what you “know”.  Ok.  I finally found that damn dead mouse that was stinking up the place.  I stopped at that Mexican ice cream place on Hardesty- eh, it’s overpriced.   I talk to this one girl today,  who I will not even give a nickname,   her own father turned her out,  and had her prostituting down in the bottoms.

I had to look up Dramatica’s “Subjective and Objective”.  Why don’t they just say “opinion and fact’?  Or  ‘perception and reality’ ? Their damn jargon drives me nuts and I can’t write a single sentence without running for the dictionary.

Hmm.  In this post there is no “contagonist” no “sidekick” and no “story mind”.   There seems no “reason” character in the world.  Unlike Charlie Chan,  nobody wants to solve the crime.   They are fighting such a battle themselves, they can’t stop to look up.

There is NO “Mr. Spock” reason character in the WHOLE world.  Everything and everyone is driven by their emotions.  Some are just more.. deluded than others.

Now my car,  it is objective.  No electricity?  No start.  Plastic shit breaks?  You got to fix it.   Belt breaks?  The alternator won’t turn.  People?  Everyone is driven by emotions, and usually,  they feel like crap.  They “deal” with each other.

I talk to Dave,  this one crazy dude that had one of those weenie ‘emergency’ tires on the left rear of his car for months.. until he sold the car!  I used to drive myself nuts picturing him flippin’ that car over.   Said he couldn’t afford to fix it.

I “know’” about the diabetics who died in this building.   They kept on smoking and smoking,  then suddenly.. POW..they keeled over.  Poor Sue I can’t get over that.. she was a decent and good woman.  Her kids were very good kids.  Now,  they are in a home.

There must be another dead mouse somewhere..drat.

The Tunnel of Horror

People are ALWAYS sick.. ALWAYS.   Everyone I meet,  everyone I know,  has got SOMEthin’ going on.   In the USA, the average lifespan is what.. 72?  It doesn’t seem that way.

There is ailment,  accident, and crime.  My favorite videos are horror,  because that is what life seems like.. this Horror Movie.

It isn’t small stuff either, but biggies.   Pancreatic disorders.   Diabetes.  Lupus, and the dreaded cancer.

I like to sleep and dream, and then, the horror goes away.

Bambi counts her lotto tickets,  sheesh she can barely see.  How I wish..how I WISH.. that she could have the winner..   That would be wonderful.

There is the sun.. the water,  the air,  and the planets.  The FIFA championships, the NFL,  and great things on the TVee.  But there is nothing like the drama of everyday people.  The money like a drum beat, boom, boom, boom.. got to have it, am I gonna have ENOUGH?

It’s like people are walking around with an engine block on their chest.  THAT MONEY.. oh what I wouldn’t give for THAT money to pay the rent.  Surgery and illness,  crime, and it seems this incredible drama,  constantly.

Such a lesson in humility.. a LONG lesson in humility is life.

I will write the instructions, and it is all here on this website.  Slow Cooker BBQ ChickenI used this for some chicken quarters that I got from the church.   In the USA,  hardly anyone  likes the dark meat.   You can get the chicken quarters cheap.  It is simple, but it is important to follow all the steps, and there are only maybe 3 real steps.

  • Crumple some Aluminum foil into several balls- 6-8
  • Place foil balls in Slow Cooker to raise Chicken above the Juice.
  • Rub chicken with BBQ rub powder of your choice.
  • Put the Chicken on top of the foil balls.
  • Cook on Low 6-8 hours, or as I did.. High 2 hours.  Low 4.5 hours.
  • The Chicken will be falling apart.. like boiled sort of..now here’s the trick
  • Gently take Chicken out,  put on broiler pan, brush BBQ sauce on both sides.
  • Broil for only 3-5 minutes per side, this will crisp up the skin, and the sauce.

This worked well, and I’ll bet it would work well for Buffalo chicken,  Teriyaki Chicken,  and many other types of flavored chicken.  The skin surprised me,  it really got crispy fast in the broiler.  It didn’t take long at all.  The skin was crispy, and the meat was slow-cooker moist and tender,  the BBQ sauce burnt on there nicely.

The only thing to watch is the chicken when you take it out of the crock pot.  It will want to fall apart.  I left the skin on mine, and I am glad I did.   I’ll use tongs next time.  Pieces fell off,  but I just wiped BBQ sauce on them, and cooked the pieces,  they were very good.

I guess you COULD put the BBQ sauce on the chicken while it was still cooking in the Slow Cooker, but I think the broiler method is better.   It is a worthwhile step,  as it crisps up quickly, and nicely.

The Foil balls keep the chicken above the juice, so it doesn’t disintegrate like every other time I tried to make chicken in the crock pot.  I was hungry,  and nearly omitted the broiler step,  I am glad I didn’t.

I’ve tried other ways to make these quarters, and they all  sucked.    When I baked them they were greasy.  Broiled them they got too black and burned.   With this method, you broil them just long enough.




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