Fate doesn't like soapboxes. She steps awkwardly on one as she clears her throat.

"You see it time and again. And again. Aaaaand again. While the Streets are being touted as 'friendly' to those that wish to speak their minds, there is a definite line that is crossed, on a regular basis. Year after year, the cycle repeats. But...to what end?

"I ask these offspring...why? Has it ever benefitted your situation? Has a CL or GF stopped dead in their tracks and changed their ways because of your angry words? More importantly, if your parent was of any significance in this world, how would they react to someone with your level of vehemence? Would they find you recruitable? Or if you were already in the family, would they applaud your rant...publicly support it? 

"I get the anger. Been there myself. But I've never seen anything good come from ongoing displays of rage. Seems to end with a lot of unnecessary tarnish on your parent and a hole in your head," she finishes, stepping down. Who knows, maybe someone on the street can guide her to the journals of even ONE person that made these kinds of displays work out for them.

"I can't say that I've been on the streets being Salty as people like to call it, but I can honestly say the moment you go from civil discussion to aggressive finger-pointing your entire point to what you're saying is lost on me. Luckily, I'm not a leader and nothing I think matters, but I can't imagine people don't feel the same way. You get further being a rational level headed person with clear thoughts than you do by being an absolute utter wanker."

Zooptopia looks around at the masses who speak and searches high and low for disgruntled peeps. Empty handed,  she shrugs as she searches for angry peeps. Again, she comes up empty handed. 

Is it stone age rhetoric is at hand? She ponders a few more seconds and sees no relevance to the problems at hand.

Axel seemed to have dodged Conn's little attempt to put him to bed, or at least keep his drunken behaviour off the streets. It wasn't hard, just roll out of the moving vehicle as it was gunning down the side streets. With a heavy limp, bruises, and possibly a broken rib, Axel returned to one of his favourite bitches, a streets discussion.

Whilst leaning his arm on whoever was about, Axel joined in the discussion. He raised his hand first, which caused him to wince and grab onto his side. He'd never raised a hand in the public like this before. Maybe a little concussion was also suffered, as he did in fact believe he has back in kindergarten. Usually his strong pimp hand, the back of his knuckles reaching and connecting swiftly across a girly man's face would do the trick to his chosen target. Now it was time for him to experience being back in the third grade again. Minus the priest fondling, though.

"Excuse me miss. I think I have an answer for you."

Axel dropped his hand, then sturdied himself again by the arm-on-the-nearest-stranger trick.

"Pie." he said whilst nodding.

The stranger turned and whispered to him what the question really was. With a quick mental adjustment, he went on.

"No wait, I retract that answer. It's really salt and vinegar. No doubt about it. They really do a treat back home, but not so much on recent or not so recent ass wounds."

The same stranger, who was fine being a tripod for the moment, let him know his answer wasn't complete yet..

"What the fuck you talking about?" he said confused and a little nervy now eyes were in their direction.

"Add a little salty balls, a splash of vinegar tits, times it by mega doses of butt hurt and we come to the conclusion that these mother fuckers just need a very solid square root."  Axel said confidently, yet who knows where his head was at and what the fuck kind of thoughts were flowing through it. Maybe it was back at Arizona Club with the multitude of prostitutes on offer, openly, and very much candidly, in Vegas, just a hop skip and a flight away.

"Just remember to wash your vagina afterwards with some Lysol. We don't want you multiplying more of these savages now do we."

Feeling quite satisfied with his answer, and very much feeling differing amounts of pain to various parts of the body, Axel gave his human crutch a pat on the cheek then hobbled off to nowhere in particular.

I don't have a problem with people raging if they have legit concerns and aren't just blabbering about conspiracy type stuff.. The streets is a place to vent your frustrations if you want.. Just make sure you're not full of shit when you do speak out.

I have to echo what some other's have already said. I don't see a problem with a little raging and ranting at the murder of a loved one. Death brings on strong emotions and sometimes we can let these emotions get the best of us. I do believe that the ranting and raving should probably be done in private, but we find that it often happens here, out in the streets. I've had kin who have been guilty of it themselves. But you can go a step too far. You can tarnish the reputation of your deceased parent rather easily by making a fool of yourself over and over again, making people forget the positive qualities of your bloodline because of the behavior you are showing yourself. There has to be a point where you stop, accept the death, and move on. 

But Don Bonker's does raise a rather controversial subject. Does omertà travel to the next generation? I believe it should, in the majority of circumstances. To spill family secrets, even if they were ones your parents had sworn to and not you, seems another way to tarnish your bloodline. However, I do believe there are exceptions. Defending your parents reputation is to be expected and if someone is setting out to ruin that reputation with lies, could that justify the breaking of omerta? I don't know that I have the answer, but it is something to give thought. 

Disorder listens to the very interesting discussion and the various participants, with great interest. Stepping forward he shakes Fate's hand.

"Thank you for your discussion. Its a very good subject! The outbursts of the bereaved are often most eye-catching incidents. Some explode in spectacular fashion, some engage in long diatribes about whatever they believe to be the truth of the situation to be, some are reserved and bitter, some are accusatory and provocative. There are any number of way people express their grief and I agree with fellow voices here, for the most part we should endeavor to accept them. Most people, even the accused, will accept an impassioned outburst as a necessary part of the grieving process. No one could say they don't understand a person feeling hurt at the loss of a loved one.

As has been mentioned, once that outburst is out of the system, a person should try to move on. Even if they are unable to come to terms with events internally, they should at least accept that their public voice has been heard. Continually making outbursts will only serve to begin a process of tarnishing the family name and making life difficult for the next of kin. The more it goes on, the more widespread the tainted opinion of the bloodline."

Turning he nodded to Don Bonkers.

"You add another element to this with your point about omerta. The grieving say things in the heat of the moment that a clear head may have kept to themselves. But again, for all we may accept that as natural, the nature of things expressed won't be ignored. If someone shares great family secrets or broadcasts highly sensitive information, this will obviously raise eyebrows and make people think twice about the solidity of the bloodline that can't respect our more sacred oaths of secrecy."

Turning back to Fate he smiled.

"I guess in short I'd say anyone will understand a passionate outburst. Just don't lose sight of the future when expressing it." 

Roxie listens to the discussion.

I rather enjoy listening to what the next of kin has read in there ancestor journals and brings it to the table.  Sometimes there is a lot of truth to what they are saying and not just the disgruntled next of kin.  Sometimes they shared a different light to a situation that some how got twisted.

What bothers me is their temporary existence and use of a AKA ridulous names.

Some people gathering arround, basic comes closer and could see some people she knows.. She listens the discussion, and gives her oppinion.

" I agree with what roxie said" she smiles to her.. 

" Some people died because they got betrayed or because of vilification, so their son and daughters maybe just only want to reveal the truth , But in others point of view it is like ongoing rage.. Because sometimes others people don't want the truth being revealed... That is how life going, we can't stop people from being angry because we never walk on their shoes, but i agree with Mr. bonker life must go on and we should be move on.. An eye for an eye just make world will be blind. But once again all just depends which point of view you stand for" 

For me, I am disgusted of loosing my time Basic. You see I have never lost anything else. Here, others might. And time might be expensive... Even other outstanding contribution of mine you could bet at some time in life.

Actually yes, a member of my blood line got extremely drunk not too long ago and took to the streets to bitch up a storm, a rather crude and disrespectful storm at that, and he was quite surprised to wake up the next day alive. It spawned a discussion where people more important than him chimed in, and small changes were made.




We can talk all we want, but if all we are talking about is meaningless bullshit than no one will listen. 
Or atleast that has been my experience with it. 
 

Malis found herself in a very unusual position at the moment. Waiting for a cab. At the fucking curb.

To say she was comfortable with the current was far from the truth. Malis was use to being wined and dined by gentlemen that could pay and offer her the best of what Chicago had to offer. Any night of her choosing she would go out with some handsome and rich bachelor of her choosing. He would never make her wait on the curb and he would never make her get her own cab.

Malis was a certain type of woman, she was the best kind of woman. Both brains and beauty. Men knew this, they desired this. They spoiled her, knew that she chose them and it was not the other way around. That they were damn lucky to have her in their presence, even for just a mere second. She was the Queen. Unfortunately, her gal pals didn't understand the rules quite as well.

Midway through this evening out with the girls, she excused herself for the night. Malis could no longer listen to them talk about who the fuck knows. She was never paying attention. If she had, her eye balls would have rolled so far back into her head that it would have killed her. Literally. Malis would have died from her fierceness. 

She gracefully floated out of the restaurant in her fashionably high kitten heals. She was on point tonight! In all of this epic impromptu cat walk, Malis completely forgot to let the door man know she needed a cab hailed for her. So, when she stepped into the Chicago winter chill she wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck and walked out onto that curb and gave it her best shot! It didn't work. It failed terribly. No cab pulled up. Now she was left with the astonishment of that and that her girlfriends were being incredibly boring as usual. Which made her curious, why could women never keep up with her. It was bit disappointing and quite annoying. More women needed to get on her level. 

Now that she figured that all out she needed something else to stimulate her brain until a car pulled up to whisk her home. Oh look, a street speech! She eagerly went over to listen.

I can honestly say that neither myself or any of my past relatives every raged publicly in the streets. 

Malis shrugged her shoulders, slightly shaking her head with a bit of grin on her face.

Simply, the act is just beneath me. 

Anyone who knows me, knows that I'm just smarter than that. Side note: that's like two people as I'm really fucking awesome and of course a girl like me has standards. I can't just be everyone's best friend. I was given the gift of very high intelligence and now I'm a genius. Wasn't even hard. With that being said, it would just be such a waste of my time. Sure, standing out here and pointing a finger at a specific person or just blanketing all the crew leaders as being awful might be fun...

Malis trailed off for a moment, squishing up her face.

...I guess.

She said unconvincingly with a slight roll of her eyes.

Of course everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but that doesn't mean they are right. People are dumb and they are stubborn. So stubborn that when the bold ass truth is right in front of them they still cannot see it. They would rather be all stuck up in their ways and ignorant as shit than become an educated member of society.

It's a waste of time and I don't waste my time. Plus, if I every found myself in a place where I needed to just scream and argue about how my way is the best way, I would just pay someone to do it for me. There's always some starving street kid that would do just about anything for half a slice of bread. 

Malis smiled at those still around the conversation. 

"Young miss?"

She heard someone say behind her. Malis turned with the smile still painted across her lips. Her eyes instantly made contact with a gentleman behind her. He stood on the curb with his hand opening a cab door.

"I know this is a bit smart of me, but if you're available I'd love to share this cab with you tonight."

The man smiled as he finished, a dimple appeared on the left side of her face. Malis walked towards the cab and took the man's extended hand.

It'd be my pleasure.

She said and stepped into the cab, her smile never slipping away.