Trenton High is a Blight on Trenton

I don't think we should tear the school down, or even build a new one. Let's just board it up and put those fake windows on it. Paint some students in class sitting at their desks working on the boards, so we can reminisce about what the school that was, as we drive by. Or, why not just board it up one day with everyone in it? Like a learning time capsule.

Trenton High was rated in the "New Jersey School Report," in need of improvement for the 3rd year in a row. So let's see, it sucks, and nobody can even put a lick of paint on a 75-year-old building to save its life (a simple coat of paint might show the kids that people care about them and inspire less suckage), and we are going to build a new school? Duh, whuh?

So let's go over the options:

Let's build a new school. Well let's see, analogy time here. If I buy my son a used car and he runs it into the ground, do I reward him with a shiny new car to run into the ground?

And in this scenario, where we have a brand-new school to run straight into the ground, we've got all of the same playas on deck. How do we take any of this seriously? Didn't I see the School Super on the front page of the Trentonian wearing a clown nose? What's with that. Costume party or job?

Maybe they should gather up all the truants, give them a can of paint and a bag of hammers and let have at it. It couldn't look any worse that it already does.

Let's restore the old building: There are some advantages to the old school. For starters, you always know when it is raining outside. But if it gets fixed, you won't be able to tell if it's raining. Too bad. Considering that the building is 75 years old, and its worst problem is that it rains inside as well as outside the building, that's pretty impressive.

But why are there only two options? Here's another idea: Let's just board this bitch up! I'm having a painting party next weekend. I need some help. Can someone bring measuring tape to get all the windows sized correctly? And we'll need lots and lots of nails and plywood and a few ladders. I think we can cover every window nicely, so it matches so many of our other historic, architectural gems in the city. And we can board it up for a lot less than $170 mill. I figure we could do it for roughly $5,000.00, and we could take the rest and invest it in a new sign for the Trenton Fire Department. That sign is important, since at least 3 people a week see it lit up at night, and that can leave a lasting impression on a mindless moron for a life time.

So, let's spend our money where it counts. Board up the school!

Bottom line: fuck history, fuck the future, fuck now. We need a fuckin' cool neon Fire Deparment! Let's neon that motherfucka so you can see it from outer space. Alien firemen will be so motherfuckan jealous!!!

G Spot on the Downhigh Out!

Palmer Pitching Shitballs in the Twilight of his Career

Yo, Dougie. I know you were a pitcher in baseball, so you must know somebody who can come relieve you of your Mayoralty, as you have already been relieved of your senses.

Methinks that you is pretty much a dickfor. Let's see...most of the citizens want the residency issued enforced. The six council members who have a spine want it enforced. A lawsuit has been filed about the residency situation. So, this is not really a request, it's a demand. Residency waivers are not allowed, there is no loophole, but you're thinking if you scream loud enough you will win.

Don't think you are going to waste my money fighting this in court and get away with it. I don't have a lot of money, I also don't get a lot from the City of Trenton for my money. But, for whatever reason, you think you can spend my money with impunity, and not pay for it down the road. Let me tell you this, Rosy Palm, if you decide to drag this out in court, and spend my money with abandon, we won't forget it any time soon. I know I'm not the only one who will make sure the rest of the world knows about your recklessness with our money, too. So smarten up, pal, before you find yourself without a reason to wear those fancy suits of yours.

People talk about the gangs in Trenton. Well, gangs are bad, mostly because they are impulsive and frustrated. You sir, are a reasonably well-educated, well-manicured Macho Thug. There is isn't much difference between you and an OG in one of our street "clubs," only, there's no excuse for the way you carry on.

I guess if you have no problem being a kept man, then don't worry about me. Since your wife makes pretty good money you'll be fine. Mr. Mayor turns into Mr. Mom. You can ride off into the sunset of Hunterdon County every night. Oh, you already do that. So I guess it will not be a big adjustment.

Hey! How about this: Why don't you run for Mayor again. That would be funny. You have at least one vote already: Pugsley Pintella.

So you still got any heat? Do you still have any respect for yourself? Do the right thing and enforce the laws of Trenton, the same laws everyone else has to follow.

G Spot on the Downhigh Out!

Trenton Police Director Position A Hobby?

I've been reading a lot lately. Yeah, I can read. And this friggin' Santiago runt is getting a little tiring. Hey, Mr. Police Director, I'm sorry there's no friggin' Conference of Police Directors you can head up, so you can go galavanting all over the country, like that other midget mountain, who hired you does, while Trenton stews to shit. And Trenton is stewing to shit under your watch, pal.

Your reasons for not living here? Many. I know the truth because I live here and I'm proud of it. And you want to be proud too. You want the truth? I'd say you couldn't handle the truth, but I think you can. But you can't laugh at it, and snicker with your buddy Dennis Gonzalez, while concerned citizens are asking you questions at city council. The real truth is ugly.

Is it because of the violence? Well, crime is down (as you say), but bloodletting seems to be on the rise, or at least keeping a steady pace these last few years.

Is it because somebody sent your wife computer porn? It was likely breast enlargement or enlarge your penis stuff. As an aside, that shit works. I'm a 44DD and I hang 10 now. Woohoo! I never want to leave the house!! Pal, who doesn't get porn? In fact I would say there is a high possibility that you have beat the bishop to Triple X a few times yourself.

Is it because somebody, a hardworkin' Crip or Blood, sent you a threatening letter? Are you not in charge of a bunch of guys who carry guns? I get dirty looks and "Whaz poppin'" glances on an almost weekly basis from my local friendlies, and all I got is myself and some good Canadian lumber that shoots left, and I live here!

Let's see...the unions gave you a hard time about your pension? Whatever. Get over it. You got your pension, that's all worked out. But still you'll quit if you have to live here.

Did you not read the name of the position when you applied? It did not say fry guy at Mickey D's.

You want the truth? It's simple. You just don't have it anymore, and maybe you never did, you and your goddamn shit PowerPoint slides. What is that? Do you think you are some corporate executive? Your brand of bullshit wouldn't fly in the corporate world, even if you invented the the CockofthewalkBerry. Though, I think you could really stand behind something like that. You and Captain Sleepy could sell alarm ringtones to augment it (your ringtone would utter "crime is down! crime is down! crime is down!" and his would just be some hardcore snoring).

Hey! I got a Powerpoint Presentation for you!

Slide 1
"Fuck you!"

Slide 2
"FUCK OFF"

Slide 3
"ITS OFF TO FUCKOFFITY LAND FOR YOU!"

So take your pension, buy something sexy, and stop wasting my money and embarrassing me with your disrespect, and get the fuck out of my town!

Please.

G SPOT on the Downhigh!

My domicile is Trenton, What Else?!

I've been reading the papers recently and a lot of people are up in arms over people who make their money here, but don't live here, even though they's s'posed to. Well, they're not living here very much anyway, or in some cases not at all. Who loses in this scenario? They do, of course!

Livin in the city of Tren'on comes with many privileges. Name one? I can name more than one!

The Secret Rules and Regulations of Trenton:

Section 1: Motor Vehicles
I can ride my ATV/Dirtbike/Scooter/Donkey/Car on any paved, or unpaved surface I feel like.
Subsection:
1.1 Operator of any of the above does not need a) License b) Registration c) Insurance.
1.2 Operator does, however, need a helmet. A helmet replaces registration and insurance.
1.3 Operator does not need any type of lighting on vehicle, unless there is a Lunar eclipse.
1.4 Operator must pop wheelies, blow stop signs and laugh wholeheartedly if pursued by law enforcement.
1.5 If operator cannot prove ownership of above mentioned transport, then possibly someone else can.
1.6 Operator can only tint everything. Even license ID. If they can't see it, you ain't doin it.

Section 2: Community Events
Any and all "Light the Night" celebrations can and should end up with a beating of a civilian of your choice.

Section 3: Litter
Littering is compulsory. Just plain ole tired of carrying it? Drop it! Keep your ride clean by usin' the garbage cans God provided for us: the sewer drains!

Section 4: Noise
4.1 Music: The more excessive, the better. Any time, any where.
4.2 Dogs: canine homies are encouraged to bark their fool heads off day and night (and for the record, leashes are optional. Dog poop questions? See "Section 3: Litter" above.)

Section 5: The Media
Any "award-winning journalist" of a local newspaper (said "award" being for "Best Journalist Among Other Journalists Who All Suck and Like to Blather On and On and Never Stop, Even When They are 'Beugois' and Like to be Puppets Award") can say whatever s/he wants, even if it makes no fuckin sense. Said "award-winning journalist" will still get paid, but may have to supply his/her own paper to write on. Said "award-winning journalist" may go back to his/her home at night. That home not being here.

Section 6: Law Enforcement
The Police department is run remotely from another town, allowing for citizens to make own rules, and perform for Video Surveillance Cameras, which may or may not catch said performance because they are substandard.

Section 7: Oh yeah, Crime is down!

So there are some great reasons to live here. It's why I do.

G Spot on the Downhigh

FUCKIN A!!! Trenton Gets New Motocross Track

The zipper almost exploded off my pants. Instant hard on! Damn, the new "Greenwood Race Track and Obstacle Course!" Who read my mind?!?! I first experienced it from my car. But shit, I don't want my insurance to go up (wait, just joking...what insurance?), and the quad (which is also fully insured...ha!) really gives me the sense of bein' king of the road. That's what I'm talking about!

I beat it home, grabbed my quad, gassed it up where we all do (shhh...at the Sunoco on 29), popped a few wheelies, tossed a few birds at the PoPo and the scowling neighbors, and I was on my way! Off to the Greenwood Race Track and Obstacle Course. Dats a CRUNK course! The first few sewers were nothing: I hardly got air. But the next two, I didn't even see them, as they were covered in crankcase oil. Guess a few unluckies broke their rides. Some people like to have caution signs where the hazards are, but twist that noise up your dirt chute. Trenton Transpo is keeping it real: balls out, no prisoners! You want a caution sign? Well, here's a quarter call your mommy!

One of the things I really like about Trenton, besides this new awesome Greenwood motocross, is that people here are really helpful. My machine stalled after one of the hardest jumps and I had trouble getting it going after. Sometimes I find it helps to swear at it, but this time something new worked. This guy came out of the bushes and he pointed a gun at my ride, and, what do you know? It started right up. Helpful people! I mean if you are going to put in a wicked motocross track, you had best do it in a nice area of town. In any other area, some dick would have offered to help push. Screw that. Wave your firebreathin' magic wand, make my ride go.

Lovin' it in TRENTON!
G Spot on the Downhigh

Trenton Wants You & They want your Garbage!

I'm not kidding. I think it is a town ordinance. I'm so glad I'm in Trenton. No need to waste precious time looking for a pail; the streets are my pail. The whole city is my pail!

I love to throw crap everywhere! It's kind of a hobby. Yeah, it is one of my favorite past-times.

Whether I'm walkin', drivin', or just plain sittin', I can toss, throw, pitch, whip, and/or slam my consumer excrement anywhere I want! I love litterin', it makes me happy. The freedom makes me happy.

Sometimes I pull up in my car, and I open my door and I drop out my Mickey D's bag. I make sure to drive over it when I pull away. If I have empty bottles of Hennessey (and who am I kidding? I always have empty bottles of Hennessey!), I play street bowling with them. It can be a lot of fun. First, get your ride up to speed, and then try to drift -- that is, slide sideways while still moving forward -- and when you get close to the corner, slam that beotch down the open sewer grate like you are tossing a grenade into Saddam's coffin! The sound of the shattering glass is better than any opera! Try it! It will set you free!

Lots of time, littering is just a casual part of life. So there are a lot of gentle tosses from my moving car, mindless releases as I walk, and a drop and roll if I'm sitting. I don't like having garbage on me, or in my car. And I think that it gets absorbed into Trenton's soil because it's usually gone the next time I drive or walk by, so it has to be good for the earth. It kind of upsets me when my stuff is gone, but just when I'm about to scream a primal F at the world, some other dude will bust the street with his own gunk!

I don't like when people give me the hairy eyeball or say things, like "Hey Don't litter!" I don't say, "Don't Breathe." or "Back off, dick. " No, I just look at them, flash a V and toss some more crap out of my car. Hey, if you haven't got the balls to live free it's not my fault. Get your own hobby! I'm just doin' what comes naturally.

So let's keep up the good work my fellow/and Girla Trentonites, let us build our piles high and proud!

G Spot on the Downhigh!

If I Gotta Have a Snowman, He Can't Be White

I'm working on my car, and this forty-something white dude who looks like he was covered in wet dough and then sprayed with WD40 comes staggering down the street. Before I can even think, "When will this mongo come drool on me with some bullshit story trying to get some cash out of me?" this dusty mongo is already on me. He is right in my space. He looks at me, all wide-eyed, like Marlon Brando with a bug in his mouth, and blurts out, "Want some of this?!"

He unfolds his clenched fist, and there, in a messy ball of plastic baggy, is a bunch of oddly colored pills. "Want some of this? Only 20 bucks!"

"Do I want some of what?! Get your stinkin' face away from me, you friggin' stinky, sweaty mongo! I don't want your drugs. You are so stoned you likely mashed up some Flintstones chewables, soaked them in paint thinner and carried them in your ass crack for the whole day!"

Mr. Obviously-Not-From-This-Neighborhood (or Mr. Hey-Look-at-Me-From-a hundred-yards-and-see-that-I'm-stoned) looked at me like I was the one who stood out.

If I'm going to buy drugs, I ain't buyin' them from no stoned white dude. That's like buying a half-eaten sandwich from a fat man: there has to be something wrong with it.

Hey, when I want my drugs, if I want my drugs, I want some style, some pizazz. The guy selling them has be cool. He can't be stoned; in fact, he shouldn't even have the drugs on him. He should yell something at me while I'm driving through, and when I'm not looking; something discreet (as discreet as a yell can be), like "EEEER!" Then when I pull over to talk, he should send me down the street to his buddy, who is even cooler; he'll be a dude wearing a long tee, and a gold rope, properly dressed for the deal. Smart decisions, proper attire, and networking. That's what I appreciate in a business man.

If that white guy ever comes back to my neighborhood I'll have him arrested. If you are going to sell drugs, have some class: lift your head up, show me some respect. Trenton don't need no cracker spreadin' his crumbs on our beach!

Yours,
G Spot on the DownHigh!

People Are Jealous of Trenton

I play hockey on Monday nights in Philly, with a group of guys from 20- to 70-years old. I'm always bragging to them about Trenton. There are things we have here that you can't get anywhere else.

I was not aware of one of them until the hockey guys started telling me about how hard it is to get landscapers to give them estimates and even harder to get someone decent to do the work.
I said, "What about the men on bikes?"

"Men on bikes?!?!" they exclaimed together.
"Yes," I said, "You know, the men on bikes." I thought they were playing with me, with their stares of disbelief, as I'm originally from Canada and not as well-versed in the ways of the American Suburban Jungle. They just stared at me, urging me to continue with their eyes. I said, "We don't have them in Canada. But in Trenton there are these guys that ride around on bikes, and tow lawnmowers, and keep chainsaws in the bike carriers and gas cans in their free hands."

They said they had never heard of such a luxury.

I said, "Where I live, there are armies of men on bikes ready to do anything at a moment's notice. Quite reasonable too." I now had their undivided attention.

Having the undivided attention of my hockey buddies does not happen very often. Actually, the last time it happened was my first year of playing with them. We were eating deer steaks and filets in the parking lot after the game, barbecued by Hunter Danny, or Serial Killer Danny as I affectionately call him. I would come home stinking of deer juice and my wife would ask me what I had eaten. "Well, some deer sausage, some deer steaks, deer jerky. Lots of deer." I could see this was unnerving to her, for a number of reasons, and not just because of the way I smelled upon my return home. She told me, "My dad hunts, and the deer you're eating is out of season." The next week I went back to play and talked to Serial Killer Danny as he barbecued. "So Danny, where do you get this delicious meat? Do you freeze it from hunting season?"

Danny looked down at me through his thick glasses, brushed his straw hair aside and said, "Glen, I live across from a UPS Depot, and the trucks hit a lot of deer, and if I can get to it while it's still warm, I butcher it."

I said, "So if it's still warm..."

He interrupted, "And if the eyes haven't glazed over." So I moved over to where the boys were chowing on some deer burgers, and told them that they were eating road kill. They all told me I was full of it. So I called Danny over. By the time Danny got to the part about the eyes glazing over, the boys were chewing much slower.

Alright, off topic. Sawry. I described to the guys how, in Trenton, we have these dudes that ride around on bikes, and they pull their lawnmowers behind them, while juggling a gas can in the free hand. And they charge like 10 bucks for a decent mow. When I told them about the guy who actually towed a wagon on a rope behind him with two lawnmowers mounted on top, like a bike Semi, the hockey boys were were drooling. Here they were begging to have their lawns mowed, and I was living in the Mecca of Lawnmower Men.

I told them that here in Trenton, not only can we get a quick landscaping estimate, but we can't keep these eager fellows away. In fact, one time I was working in the backyard with a few contractors on our garage, and this huge, muscle-bound, Mr. T-looking mofo walked right into the yard, and up to me and said, "I'm here to mow your lawn!" And when I kindly declined, he stepped closer and said, "I'm going to mow your lawn." I looked him over, and at 250 pounds of solid muscle, and wearing a shirt that had been borrowed from the Incredible Hulk in the middle of his transformation, I realized he was made to mow lawns, and who am I to stop a man fresh out of prison from doing what he likes? He mowed the lawn, a few rocks, some stumps and part of an old fence which we didn't really didn't need anyway, for all of twelve dollars.

My astute hockey buddies were impressed with this. They want me to organize a convoy of these Bike Riding Entrenpreneurs to come to their aid in Philly. But I don't think so: the Bike Men are Trenton's, and I'm not sharing!

Detroit is Motown, Trenton is MowTown and it's my town!