Canada, Eh! Mmmhmm: The Ghetto Blasters Are Here! The Ghetto Blasters Are Here!

Tales of a Canuck living in Southern VA…

Words and Photos by: Kim Cuachon-Haugh

When my husband and I first moved here, we were immediately drawn to Norfolk for the reason that it would be closer to work.  In an area that is surrounded by water with water running through it here and there, we are subjected to bridges, draw-bridges, and tunnels going from city to city.  Norfolk also presented the opportunity to live on the beach along the Chesapeake Bay without us having to live on love alone—it’s a lot more affordable than living in Virginia Beach along the Atlantic Ocean.  The area of Ocean View reminds me of Cabbage Town, with the older homes, mini-plazas, and independent restaurants and stores.  It all seemed charming.

I spoke too soon.  A walk along the beach in Fall presented the sound of gun shots coming from the west side of the Ocean View, and I hit the ground fast just—as I would in Scarborough.  That incident caused me to carry police grade tear gas at all times.  A confrontation between multi-trailer-trashes about a so-called “stolen dog” has reminded me to keep my own dog on a leash and at close sight.  And a more recent shoe snatching incident right outside my own front door has left me pissed of and cautious about even leaving my hostas plant outside.  What the f?  It seems that the ghettos have invaded, or have they always been here?  Did they go into hiding while we were inspecting the property?

Now I don’t mean to be knit picky, but come the fuck on!  When one steals one’s flip flops after seeing that person take them off and putting them to the side of the boardwalk (this happened to my husband) IT’S ON!

Here are some incidents I thought I’d share:

(1) The ghetto blasters hang out on furniture that is considered to be trash on St. Patrick’s Day.  They drink Crystal Light beer, dance to music off a boom box, and practically fornicate on dumpster area seating.

(2) The ghetto blasters begin empting out there own house hold trash into a roll-off bin as construction is being done to our house.  The contractors remove their trash out of the bin, and the ghettos put it back.  This goes on for a few days (the ghettos don’t understand) and then the ghettos give up to simply leave their trash beside the roll-off bin.

(3) The ghetto blasters argue outside their roach motel type homes about a dog that went missing.  The owner is pissed off and high on drugs accusing the other ghettos that he hears his dog barking.  There is no dog.  He is actually hearing a cat meow.

(4) The ghetto blasters are on the beach, they are without their swimsuit but with plenty of junk food and soda.  The ghettos are gone, their wrappers are scattered about, and they have written their names in the sand with urine.  Ironic that dogs are not allowed on the beach after Memorial Day between the hours of 9 a.m. and 7 p.m. and not the ghettos.

(5) The ghetto blasters steal my 2 year old, sand filled, and scuffed up pair of New Balance runners from right outside my door.  Everyone in this neighborhood is huge, so my shoes must have been swiped for their kid.

(6) The ghetto blasters do not steal my newspaper.  Clearly, they are illiterate dumb asses!

So, far, we have managed to keep the ghetto blaster invasion under control.  It seems that they carry heavy artillery but have difficulties maneuvering with their large size.  They travel in packs and their ghettoness can be spotted from as far as 200 feet away.  We have secured all exterior belongings with locks.  Sensory lights are in place, as the ghetto blasters they seem to disperse when light is flashed at them.  An iron clad contingency plan is in place should there be a level five attack that includes something shiny, as ghetto blasters are very simple minded and are completely distracted by “pretty, shiny things”.