At the back of the hill

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Saturday, April 28, 2018


If you were a child growing up in the northeastern part of the city, whether my neighborhood, Chinatown, or North Beach, you would most likely come from a household where a language other than English was regularly spoken. And you might look askance at Caucasians. Because there is a very great likelihood that your primary exposure to the type, or at least the most memorable examples, would be people behaving badly in public.

Entitled, weird, and possibly dangerous.

Whether it's screaming at chimeras, battling demons, fighting, engaging in domestic quarrels, or using the street as a public toilet. All of which made quite an impression on me these past few days. While I didn't mind the psycho having a long, vicious, and loud, argument with a business across the intersection from where he leaped, prowled, and pounced -- a very one-sided event, because the place didn't even know he existed -- or the angry drug-zombie walking past shouting obscenities at himself, there are some things I really wish I hadn't seen. Like the middle-aged dude taking a dump in a Chinatown doorway across the street from a school in broad day light. Or the man on his cell-phone urinating against a delivery van. A naked dude in the park. Or the young techno-professionals being drunk and disorderly on Polk Street. The pack of yelling Chads overturning garbage cans.
Someone throwing a bag of dog poo at a senior citizen.
And several other stellar examples.

All of them white.

The best behaved white people in Chinatown during the day are the small family groups of extremely heavy creatures visiting from elsewhere in the country. Across the hill in my neighborhood, there are no tourists, but we do have slow-moving old folks. The Financial District, of course, is filled with purulent white discharge, but many of them go back to the East Bay after work, so they don't really count.

If they have a cellphone, and sport highly individualistic hair and clothing, the chances of them pulling dubious sh*t are extremely great. Not all of the people like that are white, but certainly ninety percent plus.
They also smell bad and eat too much.

Because I'm a cheapskate and my right leg usually hurts, I never visit the western parts of the city anymore. But it's probably like that too.

I can hear drunken screaming from Polk Street.

White privilege.


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