fake ass punk gangs

So apparently, there are exponentialy more official punk crews than there were when I left high school five years ago. At the turn of the century there were only two big crews (although I'm sure that a number of northwest side fringe groups will argue that distinction): the 77s and the CMS kids. CMS stands for Chicago Mafia Skins. Ben Stupid told me years ago that he was there when the idea for CMS was born. It was in a church basement in Evanston, where the Mushuganas or someone was playing, and in between bands some skinhead kid was asking, "Wouldn't it be cool if we had a gang? We could call it, like, the Chicago Mafia Skinheads or something."

Soon after, sharpied CMS tags started appearing on lamposts, windows and bathroom walls on Belmont. I don't know if this is really how it happened or not, but it seems about right. The CMS kids weren't Nazi skinheads (anyone remember being able to use the term Bonehead?), but a fair amount of them were racist. They weren't Trads either, though they uniformly dressed the part. Pretty much, they were thugs. They got drunk and fucked people up in groups.

The 77s were pretty much the same thing, only back in the day they dressed like English punk rockers did back in 77. Crass and Pistols. Stretch pants, spikes, blah blah blah.

In 2000, I only remember seeing pockets of 77 kids now and again, spunging on the street. The CMS kids (and Chicago skinhead numbers in general were dwindling)

Well, apparently, they're back, and they aren't primarily 16-year olds anymore, and they're calling themselves gangs. Somehow, whenever my friend Karlye has a party, the 77s take it over. Last week she had a couch thrown off her balcony, the time before she got punched in the face, and the time before that a whole bunch of little things got fucked up or stolen. Somehow, she has yet to figure out who keeps inviting them. Somehow, in 7 years of regularly throwing parties with over a hundred people in attendance in various parts of the city, I've never had a problem with them.

I think I figured it out: I have a lot of black and hispanic friends. This could be a specious argument (i.e. I've never seen a tiger by a BP station, therefore tigers must be afraid of Venezuelan crude oil) but I just don't see these fuckers when there are a fair amount of blacks or hispanics around. This brings up the first point, on why these guys can't be real gangs.

1) Gangs can't be afraid of people based on their skin color. Sure, a gang can be racist, but they can't be pussies.

Howsabout another?

2) Real gangbangers have either much better or much worse weapons than switchblades, especially polished, ivory-handled, engraved switchblades. Use more lead pipes and mack-10s.

The third point, came out of a session with one of my tuttees. We were arguing about the punk scene in the better Chicagoland area, and the 77 kids.

"They're like a real, punk rock gang," he tells me.
"No they aren't," I (masterfully) countered.
"Yes they are, they really fucked this one guy up I know badly."
"Okay, lets talk about real gangs. Shit that's organized. I don't know if there are still Vice Lords around but lets say that I'm a Vice Lord and you're a Vice Lord."
"Okay."
"I'm not gonna go and fuck you up...because I'm drunk or BORED, because that would cause ripples throughout the organization."
"Oh, yeah. I guess you're right."

So he agreed with me, or wanted me to shut up. Either way I won. So if these punk crews aren't gangs, then what are they?

FRAT BOYS

That's right, run of the mill oafs. Trade white hats and Aeropostale for back patches and liberty spikes and whaddya got? A frat boy who couldn't make it through high school.

I'm gonna make my point in a way that's fun for me, but a bit of a reach for you. Are you ready?

There's this sketch comedy show that hasn't been on in years. Upright Citizens Brigade. It's awesome. It should be on all day. That and the State. Well, in its first season, there's an episode based around the Greek Fraternity System. Throughout the night, dudes trae high fives and yell, "Chumbawumba, man!" "You know it, Chumbawumba."

Okay, so the show was made in 1998; usually they avoid dated references but this one was apropos. If you don't remember, Tumbawumba were a group of anarchists who reached unexpected heights of one hit wonderdom, when they're song about drinking with the boys and "pissing the night away" became an omnipresent hit. The song was on every station. It was kinda rocky, kinda dancey, hell when one of the guys was talking it could've even passed for hip hop. It was the song that would have people yelling at parties, and it completely ruined Chumbawumba's carreer (which is fine since they kinda lost their integrity by signing to a major after bashing it for so long, and kind of a shame because no one's going to care to listen to the cool albums they did with The Ex or Negativland)

Anyway, I'm at Karlye's house, and I'm pretty sure that everybody there that I don't know (and some of the people I do) are all douchebags or teenagers. I step in off the back porch where a bunch of kids were having an outdoor singalong, into the kitchen where there's a flank of 77 kids by the window.

One of them slaps the other ones hand and goes, "GG Allin."
The other one responds in kind, "Fuckin GG-fuckin-Allin, man!"
And they do this for, I swear, five fucking minutes, and each time, GG Allin's name is funnier than the last. Weird. I saw this once before, again with 77s, different kids but again in Logan Square, and the word was "bukakke."

So there you have it. Problem solved. These wannabe punk rock gangbangers are all just frat boys. Now, how is it we take care of frat boys again? Outside of not going to their keggers, of course.