Entry 39 - Why Your Neighborhood Went Down the Drain
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You bought a house fifteen years ago, a nice, respectable house in a neighborhood populated with hardworking people, and now everywhere you look there's another reminder of why you don't want to live there. Maybe it's the teenage miscreant urinating on your hedge at 3:36 AM (your hedge hasn't looked quite as verdant since), or maybe it's that family across the street with eight children (none of them more than 10 months apart in age), and showing no signs of stopping.
Why? What happened to your once-pristine neighborhood? We'll offer a few possible explanations, all plausible, and none likable.
Explanation 1: The Real Estate Market Crash Made Your Neighborhood Affordable to Loose Women and Characters of Dodgy Ethical Standards
It's no secret: your neighborhood's median home value dropped from a respectable $225,000 to a disturbingly affordable $145,000. That scheisty developer got greedy, and built too many houses that all look alike, and now none of them are worth owning. Nowadays, there's that strange man who looks suspiciously like a local registered $ex offender, there's that woman who keeps a variety of illegal animals from Myanmar, and you even think you spotted that creepy kid from Better off Dead that wanted his two dollars (the creepiest part is that he hasn't aged a day).
Explanation 2: Your Neighbors Resorted to a Rental Agreement Because they Couldn't Sell, & Section 8 Tenants Moved In
You might remember what Section 8 tenants did to a neighborhood, from Entry 9. In fact, I want to know what I have to do to get on Section 8. Lose my job? Doable. Develop an illegal substance habit? Doable. Whine about The Man holding me down? Doable. Marry a $tripper? Doable.
Why not? I could get by on $1200/month for rent. And hey, $trippers make good money, all under the table.
Explanation 3: You've Grown so Arthritic and Embittered that You Simply Hate All Your Neighbors for No Reason
Don't discount it. I mean, who likes their neighbors anyway? I need neighbors like I need an IRS auditor tracking me down in the middle of my overdue root canal and telling me he's repossessing my $tripper-wife's implants. Come to think of it, I may have shot at that kid before REALLY knowing if he was urinating on my hedge or not. Maybe he was just harvesting the buds off his favorite five-leafed plant, under cover of darkness.
The lean years have arrived! Forget your middle class trappings, buy a case of Schlitz and a flannel shirt, and live like your neighborhood was transplanted to Flint, Michigan.
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