How to deal with vandals

(Note: If you’re not familiar with some of the graffiti terminology used in this article, this Wikipedia article will be of great help to you.)


The other morning, I stepped outside my front door. Birds were chirping. Cars were whizzing by. My Puerto Rican neighbors were working on their cars and blasting their shitty Mexican hiphop. All was right in the city. Except for one thing: Some little faggot had scribbled on my railing.

After spending 10 minutes trying to figure out exactly what the tag said, I gave up and went inside to whack off. Now freshly relieved, I returned and again attempted to decipher the alien cipher. No luck. I called up my buddy who is a cryptographer for the CIA, and he was just as baffled as I was. Most people would have just said fuck it and removed the tag with GoofOff or some other solvent, but I’m a man who believes in seeing through what he’s started. Neither myself nor the CIA could read it, but surely someone who specializes in writing this kind of gibberish could read it.

Thankfully these little tagger pussies are a dime a dozen, so I took a brief walk to the local middle school, where sure enough there was a group of kids scribbling on a wall with a couple of paint markers. Upon recognizing me as “that crazy ass boy who flips out on people for stupid shit”, three of the four punks scattered like cockroaches. The remaining one made a meager attempt to stand and fight, saying “I ain’t runnin’ yo!” He then proceeded to throw a half-assed punch, which I stopped by grabbing his wrist and giving it a nice sharp twist. After making the wannabe-ruffian cry mercy, I took him to another one of the unknown tagger’s spots and asked him to decipher the tag. He just looked at the tag, then back to me. I thought maybe he was deaf, so I used sign language (taking a knife out of my pocket and putting the tip of it to his throat while pointing at the tag and screaming “ARE YOU FUCKING DEAF? WHO THE FUCK WROTE THIS SHIT ASSHOLE?”) to convey my message to him. “T-t-tank!” stuttered the terrified 14 year old. I now had the nickname of the asshole who defaced my railing. This “Tank” asshole was going to have his life ruined.

I dug around MySpace and eventually found Tank’s profile. Surprise surprise, Tank was some punk ass 15 year old wigger. His page was decked out with quotes like “DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR”, “I WONT STOP PAINTIN TILL DA WORLD LOOKS DA WAY IT SHOULD IM ON A MISSION TO MAKE HEAVEN LOOK LIKE MA NEIGHBORHOOD”, and “HATERS MAKE ME FAMOUS”. “Haters make me famous”. A most fitting quote considering what I was about to do to his pasty poser ass. His profile had been set to private, but I had infiltrated it by pretending to be some random hood, complete with my own quotation of “NO HONOR AMONG THIEVES”. I found out what other taggers he rolled with, who he already had beef with, and where he usually hung out at. Ask yourselves this: What’s more fun, kicking the shit out of some retarded pissant or deceiving other retarded pissants into doing it for you without either party knowing that you exist? A storm was a-brewin’, and it wasn’t from the Mexican food I had for dinner the night before. Tank was going to become famous.

I’m no n00b when it comes to tagging. I too used to enjoy going around with a can of Krylon or some Sharpies and writing my nickname (SiLO -NXC SQD REPRESENT-) all over the place. I knew all the rules and all the lingo. I knew the best places to bomb. I also knew many of the most prominent taggers in the neighborhood. Tank was about to make some very dangerous enemies.

After perfecting my emulation of Tank’s scribblings, I hit the streets looking for people to beef with. Tank had a very busy day. Here’s some things Tank decided to do on his day out:

  • Crown himself a king.
  • Slash the tags and throw-ups of several prominent taggers, many of whom are in their mid-20’s to early 30’s.
  • Follow up his slashings by calling the slashed taggers a bunch of “oldhead toys”.
  • Provide the tagging crew “WAB Squad” with some new meanings for their acronym, amongst them “Wack Ass Bombers” and “Weak Ass Bitches”.
  • Boast about having sex with the mother of SUSHI, a prominent tagger.
  • Accuse another prominent tagger by the name of CLEMSKI of being a snitch, and follow his accusation with the statements “SNITCHES GET STITCHES BITCH”, “YOU GONNA GET ROLLED ON MOTHAFUCKA”, and “GONNA RUN YO ASS OVER LIKE A TANK”.
  • Challenge several shitty taggers like himself to a fight.
  • Express his distaste for the Jewish people by putting swastikas all over a synagogue. He also used the same green paint when tagging his name on another section of the same wall.
  • Call the principal of his school a nigger and make veiled threats about destroying his car.

Tank effectively signed his own death warrant. Not only did he just piss off almost every tagger in the neighborhood, but the cops were going to go to town on his ass for vandalizing the synagogue and threatening his school principal. Maybe the FBI would even join in and charge him with a hate crime. If I were in Tank’s shoes, I’d probably be considering suicide.

Since I’m confident that this tool won’t be able to deduce that I’m the one who did it and come back to further fuck up my house, I left him a little message on his MySpace profile:

Two days have passed, and the worst reprisal I’ve had from Tank is being defriended. Not even a lulz-filled death threat. Tank on the other hand had a lot of explaining to do. Most of this explaining consisted of getting his ass kicked by several different people.

Looks like our friend’s prospective art career… tanked.

 

Sorry.