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Section 8

Illustration for article titled Section 8

Picture on the FP reminded me of my time living in public housing. See, Section 8 in rural Texas isn’t the monolithic public projects you think of in the cities. The one I lived in was a set of quadplexes about a mile long. To get there you had to go about two miles down an unmaintained gravel road (aka a set of ruts that they’d dump gravel in when too many people bottomed out).


Other fun features: walls were literally about 1/10 an inch thick and the houses frame was jacked so they bowed. In two places that caused them to split so I could actually look into (or even stick my arm into) the neighboring unit). Windows were simple frames with two nails holding in plate glass. Why? Because people were constantly breaking into each other’s units and it allowed the super to just bend a nail and stick in another plate when that happened. The laundry room also had a sign that was up the whole time I was there that said ‘due to a large quantity of armed robberies use at your own risk’ (I washed my clothes in the sink).

What does this have to do with the picture? Well, the units were all on the north side of the ‘road’, the south side was a cattle field. Kids who lived there would regularly (like every damned day) open a gate and go play in the field. That meant the cows could escape. They didn’t, except for one. That one, for whatever reason, lived to stand in the road about 50 yards from my unit. Every single day, almost, I’d return from work or school and have to try to get this fucking cow out of the way so I could enter my shithole and sleep. The cow knew this and was an asshole. She wouldn’t move for an hour plus sometimes of pushing, prodding, poking, yelling, etc. Then, a couple times she went and stood in my parking spot. Shithead.


Moral of the story? Cows, when not food, suck.

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