First off you need a hot ride:

Then there’s nothing like driving into Detroit on a politically heated summer night, a night just like this in fact, and being greeted by the hot stench of incinerated garbage.  It’s a mix of death and cheese that says, “Stay the fuck out of here unless you’re ready for some shit.”

The bond holders are descending on our fair lady sporting fresh pocket protectors.  Their pens are their pistols in the bloody turf war to come.

Most residents I’ve spoke with have an, “it’s about time” consensus on the situation while others are much more titillated.

I’m mostly worried that my urban safari days are numbered.  I quite enjoy early mornings surveying the endless blight.

Here’s one of my favorite scenes, captured earlier this spring.  I call it, Making Lemonade:

That cat really captures the Spirit of Detroit more than The Spirit of Detroit or the giant black fist on Jefferson. He’s down for whatever.

Like any desolate dump, it is surrounded by communities so incredible, bubbles if you will, only a stone’s throw away. This stark contrast and the endless winters are only a few components that make up the talent foundry that is Detroit. We will always work harder as a people.

May the pensions be gutted, the institutions privatized, and the streets gentrified

I’m off to cruise the hood 10 MPH under the speed limit, Corojo in hand.

http://youtu.be/03YUgHAshSo

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