by RAF KATIGBAK

...and wave them like someone has an illegal firearm pointed at you and you don’t really feel like getting shot like those three guys last Thursday who were involved in an altercation with another man in front of a St-Laurent bar at 3:10 a.m. One guy was critically wounded, but is now, according to a police report, in stable condition! Say hooooo!

Is it me, or is shit getting rougher in club land? While the continued use of fun fur as a pant fabric is a sartorial crime that should be punishable by stoning, over the last year I’ve heard about more shootings, stabbings and gratuitous use of crowbars in or around clubs than any year before.

According to the major crime squad of the SPVM, there has not been a significant leap in assaults with a deadly weapon in greater Montreal this year compared to last—but there are no stats on club-related crimes per se, no “rave report,” no “dancefloor dispatch.” Why does it feel like club-related crimes are on the rise? Why does it make me think twice about breaking up a fight at a bar for fear of getting a proverbial “cap” in my “ass”?

The answer is beyond the scope of this column, but I will say this: what ever happened to PLUR? Okay, now that your eyes are finished rolling so far in the back of your head you can see your spine, let me also say this: yes, maybe the rave mantra Peace Love Unity and Respect that was supposed to save all humankind has morphed into so many huge sweaty dudes with bitch-tits taking turns stretching each other on their backs in the middle of a circuit party, but damn it if I don’t miss the club days when your biggest physical threat was if the person behind you was going to massage you too hard.

When the thing you worried about most was if security found your stash and you had to buy your shit retail. When “armed and dangerous” meant the guy with bad dreads in the corner who felt like he had to give everyone like, the BEST GLOWSTICK SHOW EVER!!

Maybe it’s the drugs? It’s no secret that ecstasy use has dropped considerably in this town, and that cocaine is back on top as drug of choice for club-goers. But does the prevalence of Colombian marching powder as the narcotic du jour have a direct effect on club-related crime? Maybe, but most likely the biggest crime is having to listen to some idiot blather on about his “amazing idea for a new reality show.”

“Okay—sniff—so like, there’s this guy right—sniff-sniff—and he’s got all these girls right—sniff—and he has to choose one, right? But one of them isn’t a girl, okay? Are you ready for this? It’s really his mom in disguise!!! It’s called Oedipus Complex!”

“Ummm... speaking of Oedipus, excuse me while I just go to the bathroom and pluck out my fucking eyes, thanks.”

Sure, ecstasy may cause irreparable damage to your spine and deplete your brain’s non-renewable supply of serotonin, making you over time even more depressed than when you started using, but at least you don’t get that gross white stuff at the corner of your mouth that keeps flying onto everyone you talk to.

In the end, from a strictly statistical perspective, if you look at the stats for 2004 and 2005, violent crime isn’t really on the rise (homicides involving guns levelled off at 12 a year—the 2006 tally was unavailable at press time). So there may actually be no need to worry. Indeed, a police spokesperson suggested that there have been as many violent crimes this year as there always have been—it’s just that thanks to the media’s heightened sensationalist interest in “gang-related activity” (what is this, 1989?), we’re hearing more about them.

So by all means, go forth, party, and throw your hands in the air and wave them like you just don’t care. Within reason, of course.

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