It’s Saturday afternoon in mid December. Grey clouds are rolling over my home town of Tucker, Georgia and unfortunately, my mood mirrors their steady descent. Normally, such circumstances could be remedied with a hefty dose of high-speed gridiron brutality, but not today. The college football season is ostensibly over and won’t return in any meaningful fashion until after Christmas, and only then for hollow and contrived reasons before retreating into hibernation until the dying days of Summer, 2008.
In its absence, I’m forced to settle for the NFL, which is a sad specter for any self-respecting football fan living in the bruised and battered hometown of the Atlanta Falcons. For the remaining faithful who still swear allegiance to the team, these are days of delusion and desolation. The franchise that just three years ago was one win away from the Super Bowl now lies in broken pieces, scattered and smoldering in the back-alleys of Peachtree Street. The once dazzling athletic abilities of Michael Vick are now rotting away somewhere deep within the dank walls of a Federal Penitentiary and that lying thieving serpent of a coach, Bobby Petrino, was last seen slithering westward towards the Ozarks to wallow with the hogs. “Things are breakin’ up out there, high water everywhere.” Bob Dylan said that, and I can’t disagree.
These circumstances, in and of themselves, are capable of souring the mood of any southern gentleman, and I am no exception. In addition, the immediate future of the sporting world promises even darker days. Those overpaid slackers of the NBA and the Tiny Testicle Society, also known as Major League Baseball, will soon be the primary inhabitants of the American sports landscape. May God have mercy on our souls. Thankfully, I have found a new vice to fill the void once occupied by the high-octane violence of Division I football. I have become a police blotter aficionado. Due to my ongoing futile attempts at landing a police and courts reporting job, I decided it was in my best interest to familiarize myself with the medium. However, what started off as a sort of scholastic curiosity has rapidly spiraled into a painfully addictive habit. God only knows how many hours I have sat before the radio, entranced by the ghostly squelches and spastic mutterings of cops and dispatchers.
I had always known intuitively that petty crime and violence were loitering in the shadows of my hometown, but I never could have imagined their unrelenting consistency and abundance. As soon as I tuned into the feed emanating from the Dekalb County P.D., enumerable reports of armed robbery, stabbings and horrific automobile accidents were streaming across the wire. The action was so fast and furious, that I struggled to keep up. I felt like one of those Olson twins in a hot dog eating contest. It was downright ugly. It didn’t take long for me to realize that I had to share this stuff with as many people as possible. After all, it is the season of giving. Here’s a glimpse of what’s to come: a mother running through the streets of Clarkston with her knife-wielding son in hot pursuit, a 28 year old male with multiple self-inflicted knife wounds to the chest, and a Mexican cross-dresser selling his body like a cheap piece of candy on Cheshire Bridge Rd.
Christmas and New Year’s are rapidly approaching, along with a full moon, which will occur on December, 23rd, so it promises to get wild out there……….I’ll keep you posted.
Your Humble Correspondent,
Stonehombre
Tags: Atlanta Falcons, Bobby Petrino, Peachtree Street
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on Sunday, December 16th, 2007 at 10:26 pm and is filed under General.
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December 17th, 2007 at 7:28 am
A Mexican transvestite, a crazed lunatic chasing his mom, and a self mutilator…. Not bad they go together kind of like the father the son and the holy ghost. It is all about being in the spirit this time of year.
I’m excited to hear about the hard streets of Tucker & surrounding areas through out the holiday season. You’ll have to keep us informed.
As far as football goes. They say the first weekend after college football is called suicide Saturday ….. anyone who has just spent the past 3 months waking up on Saturday just in time to sit down and watch 12 hours of football straight who then has it suddenly taken away from them understands the sentiment and the reason it is called that.
December 17th, 2007 at 8:42 am
I eagerly look forward to the Sassy Streets of Tucker blogs.