Just after midnight this morning I was breaking down my perishable freight in the stockroom as the dry grocery crew took their break up front. I start later as we share the same space and equipment in this congested old store. Night crews typically take their break after the freight is decked out on the floor. In a 24-hour store, instead of using the lunchroom, they will usually break up front so that the cashier is not alone and any customers can ask for help.

Ron and the boys were up front with Bubba when two ‘drug-head dykes’ came in. These two ladies of color were high on crack and were sucking face and grabbing ass in the aisle. Steevo did not mind one bit. The Ghetto Grocer was on the scene with an interview moments later and Steevo was still licking his lips:

“Yeah the fem had half her tatted-up ass hanging out, not saggy from the Tasty Cakes yet. I was liking that. Her dyke looked like a moldy muffin. Nevertheless I enjoyed the show until she went off. This stupid food stamp bitch started yelling at us for having freight on the floor, kicking the boxes, giving Ron shit. We should have slapped her. But the customer is always right, so we just sat there. But you know, a dumb bitch like that—that’s just a cum dumpster anyhow—how can you not laugh at that?

“So maybe there’s a smile. Then its on—fucking Ron up like she’s his wife. He remained very polite and told her to call in the morning. He had to give her his name three times before she could remember it. ‘Ron,’ how fucking hard is that? That bitch had five hundred left on her EBT card after she bought her shit. I can afford but two-hundred a month for me and the wife and kid. All this bitch has got to do is drop babies and she’s rolling in dough.”

I then digressed. “Remember when you asked me what it would have been like to be a slave hundreds of years ago?”

“Yeah.”

Well, according to the slave narratives it was often the slave mistresses—the wives of the masters—that were cruelest. Slave owners were essentially the same as welfare whores: they did not work, they drank where welfare whores get high, and they were very violent, just like ghetto bitches. Now, imagine that bitch owned you? Granted she owns you indirectly with the government acting as her proxy. Imagine that?”

“Oh I would kill that bitch in a heartbeat—even now—if she laid a hand on me.”

“It wouldn’t be her hand man. She’d have a gang of bouncers with whips and clubs and dogs to keep you in line.”

“You mean like pigs fuck with us now?”

Steevo’s anarchist education is coming along nicely.

An hour later a 62-year-old woman, dressed like Daisy Duke, covered in faded tattoos, and so fat she has to ride a handicapped cart, came in shopping with her 16-year-old son. I thought to myself, ‘Whoever knocked her up to keep her in food stamps until retirement was a better man than me.’

By the merchandise in their cart and the time of month I knew she was a foodstamper immediately. Everything that appeals to the compulsive welfare mentality has a greater margin built in. If food stamps were cut grocers would be laying off as much as 20% of their staff. People that shop with food stamps do not add—or perhaps can’t. They let the register do it and leave the overage for the cashier to cart back to the shelf.

Now I was about to be shocked. What I thought was an unrelated customer was a 45-year-old half-sister to the mulatto son, who had a newborn baby in her second grocery cart! This was at 1:15 am. At 45-years-old this woman is still popping out babies to remain on the dole just like her mudshark mommy. These ladies represent the aspirations of the majority of females in our growing underclass.

What is most fascinating about this is that these female parasites actually constitute a leisure class. There is very little difference, in terms of incivility, violent propensities, and lack of self sufficiency, between the postmodern welfare queen and the English wives of the colonial plantation owners. The only real difference is that our modern slave-mistresses are not married to some dude who we might drag from his bed and burn, but to the U.S. Government.