Surprised that I joined a gang? Would it also surprise you that I started a gang in the third grade called The Running Wolves? Godfather much? Godchild? I didn't choose the thug life; thug life chose me.
The occasion for joining the gang was the annual Blood Bowl, a rumble of famous gang leaders that is broadcasted to all the members of the respective gangs world-wide.
Like a good Crip, I was wearing blue clothing. I cheered when our opponents were beaten to bloody pulps. I cried blue tears when our brothers were crippled (welcome to the blog where puns are always intended). There was a lot of energy. It was a riot. A literal riot.
At one point we saw some bloody Bloods on our turf. We were in public so we didn't physically abuse them, but my gang was content shouting obscenities and slurs. I tried to join in:
Hey losers! Red is a stupid color! Red-iculous, am I right?! Hey, where did you get that shirt? Target?! Karl Marx called, he wants his favorite color back!
The guys next to me were like, "Okay, that's enough bro."
Gang can't even handle me right now.
Apparently there are a lot more gang members than I would have suspected in Rexburg. People came from all around to watch the rumble. Some brought their kids. It was interesting to see otherwise good Christian folk lose all human decency in the midst of the melee. These people probably work together, worship together, and heck, maybe they play Chutes and Ladders together on the weekends. But the minute they don the red or blue it's as if they have insulted every homeland, mother, and child of the other. It's like Batman and Robin suddenly becoming Batman and Joker. Makes you wonder.
When the dust of the battlefield finally settled, I began to think. Why do we join gangs? Why do we buy all the blue clothing and merchandise if the gang doesn't do anything for us in return? Why do we hate members of the other gang? They probably never did anything to hurt us personally. Why do we give absolute devotion to the gang like it's some sort of cult? I don't even personally know the leaders of the gang. They sure don't know or care about me.
Wait..... what? I can't believe it........ Stop the press!....... How stupid of me!......... That wasn't a gang rumble at all. I was watching the BYU vs. Utah football game!
What a hilarious misunderstanding.