Scenes from Coney Island, part II of V

[Doktor Howl]

Coney Island isn't just decaying hulks of amusement rides and horror-inducing "cute" animal motifs that stare at you with rusty mouths and gaping eye sockets.  It's not just the ghost of Topsey the Elephant, or Captain Jack Bonavita, still trying to save his lions from the flames.

It's not just awful, soul-killing projects where children exist to sell drugs to each other.  It's not just the ghost of Abraham "Kid Twist" Reles staring up with hate-filled eyes at the 6th window of the Half Moon Hotel, waiting patiently for his revenge on the rest of Murder, Inc, (after being shoved out that window while under police protection), all of whom have been dead for half a century.

It's not just the bloodstains on the Shore Parkway sidewalk, where Jimmy Eppolito and his son were gunned down by the DeMeo crew, half a block from the ruins of a deserted high school.  It's not just the haunted remains of the Saint Lucia, the infamous restaurant where mafia gangs sat to decide who lived and who died.  It's not just the Russian mob that moved in more recently, to teach the Italians and Sicilians a thing or two about violence and depravity.

No, Coney Island is far more than all of this.  Its history is a funhouse mirror of our nation's history, almost as if you took America and boiled it down until nothing was left but grime.  It horrifies us because we can't pretend that it isn't, and we can't look away.  It reminds us that not everyone's kid grows up to be a success, that for every kid that makes it, there's three that die in the projects, or lie on the sidewalk of Surf Avenue, hiccupping vomit all over the "cat girl" tattoos and implants on their faces.  It reminds us of The Slide, and what happens to the unfortunates that reach the bottom (or, in Aini's case, those who race for it).

Coney Island is that little piece of us that wants to go laugh at the freaks, consumed with the notion of our superiority.  It's that little piece of us that likes to look at the hookers and the pimps and the bloodstains and the garbage, so that we may feel a little cleaner ourselves...As if seeing these horrible things displayed on the outside can make us feel better about the shitty compromises and neglect that we keep on the inside.

And this is why there will always be a Coney Island, a circle of hell right in The City, where gaudy shit is mistaken for class and filth is mistaken for entertainment, where monsters dressed as humans torment broken down kings of the jungle, where our failed kids go to mutilate themselves in the name of their microculture.

Eat it up, America.  It's been what's for dinner for 146 years.

Okay for now,
Dok

[Freeky]

I never wanted to go to Coney Island, never.  I think I felt it from halfway across the country, that it was just a place where dreams go after they've died before being achieved.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

I like where this is going.

[Jenne]

I can visualize the seamier side of life there and the desperation in all the commerce and "fun" that's forced down the gullet of those who travel and live there.

Great series, Rog.

[Suu]

I totally love this series, Dok.

[Dysfunctional Cunt]

Awesome!