Here is a link to the 12th rant we ever ran on the Almanack, a rant by M@LONE.
Growing up, Devil's Night was all about soaping your neighbors' windows, any of them, especially your friends'. Perhaps you could toilet paper some trees, or set off some salvaged fireworks from the past July 4th on your neighbors' porch, or in front of their bedroom window (if all the lights were off.) The old standby of filling some newspaper with dog shit and lighting it on fire in somebody's porch was funny as hell. And something unfortunately branded "Nigger Knocking" was popular (it's where you knock a few times on someone's door and run off and hide, waiting for them to open the door to an empty porch in the middle of the night). As kids we did all these things year after year and didn't think nothing of it. Devil's Night was as fun as Halloween.
Then I grew up. I was in high school. Then I graduated. I was no longer under-age. I wasn't a minor anymore. Devil's Night was a new holiday. I watched Detroit burn. It burned, and burned. Year after year it burns. If you go to the city and open your eyes, look at the horizon every year you will see an orange glow. It doesn't encompass the whole horizon anymore, not like it used to in years past, but you can see the glow of isolated fires. If you open your ears you will hear a constant droning, a wailing of near and far sirens screaming down the boulevards. Gunshots and gleeful cheering round out the sound-track. I doubt if anyone is at the end of the barrels of those guns; the skies are the target. Street signs are the target. Rows and rows of abandon houses, storefronts, drug houses, cop cars, rotting cars, mail boxes, stop lights, and any other motherfuckers or useless piece of old shit laying around in town are the targets.