211. CRIME : IN AVENEL
'Nonchalant'. That was a
word my mother used a lot -
though always in a negative
sense. Over time, I got used to
it, but it always seemed - for
that kind of foreign and always
seemingly gentle word, any
use of it for a 'negative' sense
seemed incorrect. I was always
kind of a word-guy, even as a
runt kid. So it stuck to me. Her
point, with the negative, was
always something like this:
'Look at that guy, robbing
that bank. How brazen. He
just walks in, with his gun
and his note, and nonchalantly
walks over to the teller-window
for the hold-up!' Somehow
she seemed always to think a
'bold' move should be done
boldly. I tried not to think
about this too much,
but I did.
-
Remember how I talked about
those two town carnival things
and how small and insignificant
they were - not because of them
themselves, but because of the
small manner by which they were
carried out; in Avenel - which
always remained a town/place of
small manners anyway. The
'rightness' of the cause can, yes,
sometimes be done in by the
errant way it's gone about. Had
either of these endeavors been
done ever so slightly differently,
they could have been cool.
Instead of boring neighbors
flinging hot dogs, how different
would it have been to use those
park grove burner things with
carnie people slinging. But never
was there a sense of adventure.
Instead it was always neatness
and order, storm windows and
driveways. The New Land. DOA.
-
It's even worse now : every hanging
of new curtains or planting of a bush
brings out the zombies and the ghouls,
Mayoral kinfolk sucking the weed.
Photo ops, insiders, the connected
people, the low-life tribe. They
jumble at the fences and hope to
get seen. Enough to make you sick.
-
Having first moved here at age 4,
by age maybe 9 or 10, I was
already doing illegal stuff! But,
in light of today's corruption and
negativity it was nothing at all.
We didn't back then have a Mayor,
(Adams, I think, or maybe Wally
Zirpolo, before his prison term),
who could split hairs over 'crime'
and 'punishment' and think he
was some smart ass Dostoevsky,,
tonguing his blond girlfriends nor
the miniature lackies who lapdog
him, as we have today. What me
and Jim Yacullo did at School
4 and 5, each Election Day, was
get ourselves hired out (his uncle
or someone was on some Democrat
machine election committee) for
maybe 10 bucks for the day, each
time, school board election or
November election (yeah, they
used to be separate by six months.
Nowadays the corrupt bastards have
put them together in November,
and run their own team names on
the same posters with the once-
sacrosanct and independent and
separate School Board people.
No one cares, and no one gives
a shit. I don't much care about
it (only a little). Alcohol kills,
so he'll get his.) - Anyway, two
little brats that we were, we'd
get our own municipal pay-offs,
and get handed hundreds of
hand-outs, flyers and ballot
links, to give to people on
their way in. Yes, Demo.
propaganda stuff. The laws
stated that no handing-out of
flyers and things could be done
within 50 or 100 feet of the
polling station, whatever
amount of distance it was.
We didn't care: We'd crowd
people, and hound them,
right at the doorway as
they entered. Having
absolutely no knowledge
of issue or facts, we'd just
harass people - basically
that's all it was. Same deadpan
kind of corruption as is done
today, just done in a different
way. Kids are cute, they
work cheap, and they can't
go to jail. Unlike adults.
-
I guess my mother would have
said how we just 'nochalantly'
went about our business of
doing wrong. I don't think she
ever even knew about this.
She'd probably say the same
thing now, about today's
Mayor and his Posse of
lap-dancers. For 10 bucks?
Or is it 100 now, plus some
sweetheart landscaping deal
with some other crook and his
crew of illegal Mexican runts?
How they 'noncahlantly' go
about with their greed and
crime and corruption. Oh
yeah, she'd be loving that
- all the nonchalant stuff
in the world couldn't stop
her. How can you believe
in anything at all, when it's
all professed to you by
black-bag sons of bitches
who go to church on Sundays
to be seen, and then lie
to their kids all the way
home? That's Avenel.
Hell, that's Woodbridge.
-
I always figured if you
decided to live a small
life, everything you ever
was 'small' and trite. That
sort of a person is always
too dumb to realize his
or her own stupidity. Their
smallness befits them, and
the paucity of their habits
shows them for what they
are. I ride the NY train a
lot, and, each time, there's
a perfect example of this;
at each of those sleazebag
little towns along the way,
from Woodbridge and Avenel,
up to Newark and into NYC.
Not the seasoned, somewhat
more sophisticated daily
traveler, who keeps to his
or her self, remain quiet
and aloof, all the way. It's
the varied and plentiful small
world garbage that gets on,
along the way, all those
poverty- scum towns. Each
perfectly content in their
small-world consciousness,
each completely unaware that
there's a larger, intelligent,
world around the of knowledge
and learning an information
wider-world intelligence all
around them. They know
nothing of it - as they jump
on the trains, reeking of their
food, still opened and being
eaten, and jabbering away,
loudly and steadily, of all their
own bullshit concerns, the small
world crap of their lives. As if
everyone else cared. As if they
actually deserved something,
little rats that they are. Just like
local Avenel; just like small world
crooks and politicos throwing
their fair carnivals in all those
cramped and crimped places.
Local fools, throwing their
local hot dogs.
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