Baltimore’s little miracles
Warning: If you’re like Rey and your premium cable got shut off earlier this year for non-payment, you might want to pass on this post. I’ll be discussing issues and events that take place in the fourth season of HBO’s “the Wire” up to and including last night’s season finale.
Are black women ruining America’s ghettos? Who knows whether or not this was the message David Simon tried to put across in this past season of the Wire, but that’s more or less what I took from it.
Take for example the situation with sensitive would-be corner boy Namond Brice. If you notice, his mother doesn’t appear to have any kind of job other than cursing over the telephone and having a high ball. Yet and still, the Brice’s are arguably the richest family in the ghetto.
If times ever got too hard, I’m sure they could live for a year just by selling the family Bimmer, but you get the idea that money isn’t exactly in short supply. How else to explain her frequent weekend jaunts to NY to catch Broadway shows and what have you?
Why, then, does this skanky ho push her son out on the corner to sell crack for $4 an hour, knowing good and well how much of a fruit he is? Even his little five year-old courier was playing him like an accordion before Lil’ Mike put the kibosh on that.
If Namond had any balls in the first place, he would’ve slapped her and been like, “Bitch, get a real job and stop spending all my daddy’s crack dealer pension!”
And Namond’s mother is arguably the best of the lot, compared to some of his peers.
Poor little Duquan (why?) can’t even bring soap in the house to wash his own ass without his mother selling it. And Lil’ Mike’s trifling-ass mother invited Bug’s prison rapist of a daddy back in the house just so she could smoke his rocks.
Who knows the situation with Randy Wagstaff’s mother, but I bet she was one of these women who take in orphans just to collect a government check. At the very least, she obviously didn’t talk much sense into the boy.
Now, granted, none of the poor bastards had positive male role models in the home, but that’s the thing: Whose responsibility is it to make sure a child has a father? Presumably none of these kids’ daddies were pre-med when they laid up with these whores.
To make things as clear as possible: Our nation’s ghettos aren’t getting filled with crack heads – and crack dealers – by osmosis. I’m placing the blame on the women because they control the means of production, so to speak.
Probably the most positive thing that happened this season was Bunny Colvin intervening on behalf of soft-ass Namond before he ended up in the joint catching AIDS from Randy Wagstaff or whatever his eventual fate would have been.
If anything, our nation’s ghettos could use more men like Bunny Colvin and less women like Namond’s mother, whatever her name is, and the rest of those bitches.