To all my G.D.s in the Diaspora
Thursday, May 24th, 2007Oh, and speaking of gang signs…
When I was in High School in Minnesota, there were a bunch of rival gangs. My favorite was by far the Gangster Disciples (G.D.s for short) because this was their gang sign:

Seriously. A Star of David…with pitchforks coming out of it.
Every bathroom stall at my school looked like this:

It was literally the only place in the world where you’d catch yourself wondering, “Hmmm…I wonder who did that graffiti? A real-life gang member or an artistic Jew?”
The best part about it was that all the G.D. gang members wore big Jewish Stars around their necks. Proudly. It was amazing. Baggy clothes, neck tattoos, and a Star of David swinging from their chains. I don’t know how many Judaica stores those dudes robbed, but they were decked out in some of the finest temple gift shop items money could buy. (Or not buy, obvz.)
Wait, no. I take that back. The best part was definitely the behavior of rival gangs. Because the rival gangs only knew Stars of David in the context of gang warfare. So, for a while, little Jewish kids all over the Twin Cities kept getting beaten up because retarded gang members were mistaking them for G.D.’s.
Believe me, that was a scary time in my life. Most the kids I knew traded in their stars for chais. Nothing was more frightening to me than the thought of being mistaken for a G.D.

“Hey! You a G.D., nigga? I’mma fuck you up!”

“Someone cap dat G.D. before he gets into orbit!”

“Yo! Fuck that cat up! He a G.D.!”
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“Why the G.D.’s always gotta have the best Air Force in the world, son?”























