Las Vegas was a great place to grow up… I hate to admit to this, but the boy in his teens that was beaten seriously in this article was me! I was punched from behind & from what witnesses say I fell to the ground, then I was beaten over the head with my own skateboard, good times!
Is it just me or do people in the ghetto have an issue with walking directly across street in a timely manor?
When I was younger Skinheads were scary fucks that showed up to hard core shows, drank all of your cheap beer, and fucked shit up (which usually resulted in the loss of a D.I.Y. show space). It didn’t matter their politics they were total dicks, one time at a 5150 gig my buddy Nathan was beaten up by some S.H.A.R.P.S (N.T.S.) because in their words he was a “mustard butt”, I assumed anti racist people would be nicer than nauseating Nazis, but I found that to be untrue…
Times have changed in skinheadville*, now when I see Skinheads they seem more likely to go through someone’s closet, give out unsolicited fashion advise, & criticize someone for drinking domestic beer. No thanks, I’d rather be beaten up for being a “mustard butt”.
*I have no doubt by posting this I will find out that there are still “scary” skinheads, by finding out I mean beaten up.
I used to work at a distribution center for Lechters. It was a horrible job that required emptying trucks full of bake ware, cooking supplies, & knick knacks that collect dust. The best part of working for Lechters was that they constantly hired temp workers, which meant a steady stream of underpaid coworkers that didn’t give a shit about anything.
One temp worker I met was some guy that looked like a vampire, he told me that he played guitar & once played in Christian Death, but not on any of their good albums. He went on to explain that he lived in LA, but was stuck in Las Vegas due to a recent drug charge, but this story isn’t about him or the shitty Christian Death album he played on.
One particular morning my boss introduced me to a temp worker & informed me that I would be responsible for him. My new coworker looked like your stereotypical 70’s Hollywood version of a Mexican. He looked like Cheech Marin & had the exact same accent. He would constantly ask me, “Do you cruise Balboa Park?”
I told him that when I was younger I went there, he laughed & said, “I figured as much”.
I liked working with the guy, he was a hard worker, & for the most part he was a cool dude. He would tell me about being in prison & about the seasonal work he did installing above ground pools. The only weird thing about the guy was that he would always call me Chappy.
One day while we were unloading a truck full of boxes marked Rubbermaid he said to me, “hay, Chappy can I borrow your box cutter?”
I handed him my box cutter & asked, “Why do you always call me Chappy?”
He let off a laugh & explained, “Chappy was a guy I was in prison with & you look just like him, we called him Chappy because we used to put Chapstick on his ass & butt fuck him”.
I began to laugh & said, “Rad!”
He then told me, “I’m serious, when you are in prison you are either the boyfriend or girlfriend!”
The Mormons tried to come to my house to spread the “good” word. I probably would have been polite & told them, “sorry groovy dudes, not interested”, but before that could happen my dog chased them & they ran for their life. Bethany apologized to them, but I didn’t. I called my dog back to the door, petted him, & said loudly so the missionaries could hear, “good dog!”
These kids are young & should be experimenting with sexual positions other than missionary, not being missionaries. When I see these kids dressed up like a shitty 90’s Ska/punk band spreading bullshit I am glad that my parents let me grow up/into the loser I chose to be. Thanks mom & dad for allowing me to choose my own path to hell!
The nice thing about knowing people on the East Side is that they also experience weird things & they share them with me, so I can share them with you… Recently at the PT’s Pub on Nellis and Sahara my buddy was drinking well into morning when he found a nice young woman that agreed to go home with him & do whatever it is that two drunk individuals do together. The assumed finger-banging & possible fucking is not what makes this story an East Side issue, what makes it noteworthy is that when my friend woke up the next day he found his new friend gone, but in her place was a fresh human shit on his sofa!
This past Monday night on the East Side of Town an older woman was walking south on Nellis Blvd when a group of teens threw a Super Big Gulp at her. The drink hit the woman in the head & the drink drenched her. Since it was already freezing (for Las Vegas) this sucked twice as much as it should have, in the summer time this might even be considered refreshing. The woman’s reaction was to throw both fists in the air while extending both middle fingers. She screamed at the top of her lungs in her British accent, “I hope you crash your car and fucking die!”
This woman is my mother & though I’m not glad it happened to her… I fucking love her reaction to it.
