Home Sweet Home: The Most Miserable-ist, Dangerousest Place in America

"Yep. #1 again." That was the message a friend sent in an e-mail, along with a link to this article from Forbes naming Detroit -- my home, the place where I chose to raise my child -- the most miserable city in America.

The reason my friend used the word "again" was because just a few months ago, Detroit received another #1 award -- most dangerous city.

And, you know, they're right. The reporters and the researchers who conducted these studies and made these lists are absolutely right. This is the most miserable-ist, dangerousest place on Earth.

Every morning, when I walk from my house to my car I get shot at. I've been shot more than 211 times in the past month. The rap star 50 cent was famously shot nine times. If you do the math that's just over a nickel per shot, so that would make my rap name "10 dollars and 55 cents and counting" or "$10.55 'n Countin."

But the bullet wounds don't even hurt anymore. My life is so miserable here in Detroit that I can't even feel the pain that's inflicted on me, or the pain that I inflict on others. I haven't been quite miserable enough yet to shoot anyone, but I've kicked and punched a bunch of people to steal a purse or a car or a sweet pair of roller shoes.

Funny thing is, it's like the Forbes writer said with that really witty line at the end of his article, "Misery loves company." In Detroit, we have formed sort of a community of miserably dangerous people. We're like the Grouchland of Sesame Street. We've gotten used to this way of life, so, in a weird sort of way, we like it. So, if you're looking for a sunny, happy, bullet-free existence, go to Mission Viejo, Calif., or Clarkston, NY or Sugarland, Texas. Get out. Go. Or, as one famous grouch once put it, "Scram!"