Watching Sons of Anarchy makes me want to start my own motorcycle gang. Unfortunately, I don’t ride a motorcycle. I do have a car, but you never hear about car gangs. I think a car gang would be scarier than a motorcycle gang, simply based on a car being bigger than a motorcycle. That seems like common sense. But when I ask people to join my car gang, they just laugh and point at me and call me a loser, then they go and start their own car gang. They have cars with Blaupunkt stereos and fuzzy dice hanging off the mirror. Also, they have way cooler jackets than me. I knew I should have sprung for pleather. It’s a timeless fabric.
But if I did ride a motorcycle, I would totally start a gang. We would probably be one of the toughest gangs in the world. I haven’t seen the final list of who makes the cut, but suffice it to say, we would be extremely muscley, yet limber. We would obviously have a really cool theme song that was easily recognizable in all the toughest parts of town. Probably some a capella, three-part harmonies, a ton of finger snapping and a whole lot of whistling. Nothing says,”Hey sucker, this is our turf, you best get to steppin’ if you don’t want to find yourself on the wrong side of a good ol’ Donnybrook”, like muscley gentleman singing in unison. Plus all that whistling is a very effective deterrent to a drive-by shooting. I think it has to do with the sound waves messing up GPS signals or something scientific like that.
When people begged to join my gang, at first I’d say, “I’m terribly sorry, we are not currently accepting any new members, or pledges, as we call them in the motorcycle gang business. Perhaps next semester.” This will make my gang seem very hip and exclusive. That’s how it starts. People will start to talk amongst themselves in the coffee shops, hardware stores, and disco roller rinks. They’ll say, ” Hey, what can I do to make myself more attractive to this gang, get them to like me and take me into their confidence? Should I make some brownies or something?” There would eventually be a buzz around town. That’s when I let it slip that we might be looking for one or two more tough guys to join our organization. I’d tell prospective hooligans that they could fill out an application at our
treehouse clubhouse, but that they most likely won’t get in. This would make sure that only people who really wanted to join the gang would apply. No posers allowed. Unless they’re like, world-class, championship caliber posers. Then it would behoove us to accept them. We want the best of the best. It’s kind of what we’re all about.
After filling out an application, The potential pledges would be put through a grueling initiation process. It would include, but not be limited to such things as:
- All pledges would be kidnapped off the street or from their homes or place of employment, blindfolded, and forced to come to the
treehouseclubhouse for an orientation barbecue. They would all be required to have something to eat, even if they weren’t that hungry. Then we would talk about a whole bunch of different stuff. Favorite movies, recipes, their hopes and dreams, and what not. Maybe play some bocce or croquet. When the night was over all pledges would be required to bring some food home for their families. No exceptions. If they don’t have a family they can drop it off at a shelter or orphanage. Do some good for the community. But they would also be required to return any container that the food was in. We’re trying to run a bike gang, we need money for gas, candy and tattoos, we can’t be buying endless amounts of Tupperware. That’s not economically feasible. Ask the Hell’s Angels about that, they’ll tell you some stories. Plus it’s just bad for the environment.
- There would be random text messages that would need to be returned immediately. Text messages such as: Hey what’s up? What are you doing? What’s that guys problem? How does this thing work? Who shot J.R again? What channel is AMC? What’s so funny ’bout peace love and understanding? Can you grab me an ice coffee? Can’t we all just get along? Aren’t you glad it’s nice out today? Does this look infected?( That one would be picture mail. Standard text messaging rates apply)
- At some point there would have to be an initiation beat down. That’s just standard practice throughout the entire gang milieu. Everyone does it. The Bloods, the Crips, the Latin Kings, the Lost Boys, the Pink Ladies, Menudo. All of them. Fortunately, our beat down is less of a physical altercation and more of a water balloon fight. But it gets pretty heated, in a refreshingly cooling type of way. Some of the bikers have mouths like sailors in a motorcycle gang. Apologies in advance for that. But the annual water balloon initiation beat down is the highlight of the social season for some of these guys and they get a little carried away. It really is a fun time.
- After the water balloon fight we have another barbecue. This time every pledge is required to bring one dish to the party. Either an entrée, or an appetizer, or maybe a nice dessert? But they must let me know 48 hours in advance so I know what I have to work with. They can just call me or text me or hit me up on the Facebook event invite page. I don’t care how they do it. Just do it. A little common courtesy and a pleasant attitude will get you very far in this particular motorcycle gang, bucko.
Now if someone makes it through this extensive soul breaking initiation process, they would be welcomed with open arms into my motorcycle gang, The Cinnamon Whistle Sticks.
Cinnamon, because we’re hot and spicy like the sweet nectar of the forbidden cinnamon Pop-Tart that Eve ate in that bible story.
Whistle, of course, after the blood curdling, bone chilling whistling sections of the intro/outro (and maybe the bridge section) of our gang theme song.
Sticks, because those and stones can break your bones.