Gripping writing. This article has stayed w me since the summer. I often think about the paths I could have taken in life, but through circumstance, genetics, and good parenting, I never did. A tiring task, but my mind just sort of does it, and it’s the only way I know how to write half-decent fiction. My fiction writing is on pause because I’m better at painting, but mental walks down roads not taken continues. These roads include: incel, chain steakhouse regular, anarcho-capitalist, and suburban thug. I was probably closest to that last one, given my distrust of authority and reverence for Gangster Rap music. So my interest was piqued when I saw this New Yorker headline. It’s about the “Gilbert Goons” a group of violent rich suburban boys in Arizona. A side of America and young masculinity that isn’t often explored at this depth.
“When he was on the ground, a group of guys began “kicking on him,” “standing right above and beating down,” “getting on him and going at it,” witnesses told police. The beating was over in seconds. “He’s out,” someone said. A neighbor’s surveillance-camera footage showed ten boys running away, some of them laughing.”