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‘Bodymore on Business’
Web comment from Bryce Sharper 10.16
© 2022 James LaFond
MAY/16/23
[We don’t call him Bryce Sharper for nothing. Crackpot comments will be in brackets. I really like this story. Thanks to Lynn for converting it to a readable form.]
I just visited Bodymore on business. Mostly we stayed at the hotel near the airport but one night we decided to dine in the inner harbor. It is a heavily policed game preserve or feedlot for UMC white yuppies who seem completely oblivious to the fact that their area is so protected because they are being farmed.
[Just to the south and southeast, across that dirty water, with easy access to I-695 south, nearly the entire pale population are Washington D.C. functionaries brought in as urban homesteaders from out of state, paying 500k for row houses like my brother bought for 20k and renovated in 1986. Ironically, most of the ghosts that work in downtown Baltimore by day, shiver in the suburbs 10 to 15 miles north by night, which is where the Z-man’s post office box is, far outside of “Lagos.”]
The yuppies I was with snickered partially out of contempt when I noticed this. They feel entitled to safety and good job opportunities and ignore the fact that this means they must stay within a game preserve like zoo animals.
[The Central District Precinct building is two blocks from the Inner Harbor and constitutes the outer northern bastion of the tiny perimeter. To go one block west or north or east after dark from Baltimore Street is to enter a veritable Dark Continent.]
The yuppie driving the car almost drove down a dark alley where a kang was obviously dealing drugs. I told the driver to continue down the alley so we could see what was for sale. This elicited laughter, mockery and fear.
[They can feel in their sheep bones that they fear the ebony glisten of the wolf hide in the moonlight. Big Ron and I share a fantasy that if we are in Baltimore when the grid goes totally down, that we will take a cooler of beer and park his pickup truck across the street from yuppie mansions festooned with BLM signs and watch the rape, murder and cannibalism.]
Quickly our smugly confident yuppies retreated in the face of this imagined threat who obviously wasn’t trying to rob anyone but rather sell drugs to rich whypeepo.
[You know, whypeepo of the suburbs have traditionally supported “squeagie kids” posting up near the Inner Harbor because it was how they bought their drugs in plain site without having to actually go to a negropontic kangdom five blocks west or east.]
Meanwhile, the poor and criminal element are section 8 farmed as you explained above which is degraded the housing stick and public spaces for those trying to get by.
[Nations have never cared for those “trying to get by.”]
This seems to be increasing in all suburbs as section 8 is a tool of young yuppies building their real estate empires. Often it is disguised as a rehab facility where suburban SFHs are converted to flophouses for nearly a dozen men farmed for $15-20k a month under the guise of charity.
[This practice is rampant in Maryland and Pennsylvania and has its own built in corrective. There is simply nothing more Anglophone than this modern version of the London or Philadelphia workhouse combined with the Chinese opium den.]
The government and real estate/FIRE scum clearly want to whip us back into the cities while avoiding the rent collapse of the previous urban crime era. Their hook is access to jobs. We must figure out how to employ ourselves and live near each other to provide mutual security. I can’t tell you how many friends who’ve moved out of CA who want me to live near them.
[This has been my experience also. It is nice, knowing myself to be a subprime combatant and aged besides, to be the person encased in the “break glass in time of peril,” case in the mind of fellow subjects of the ailing king. I would suggest you parlay this status among your expat associates into something feudal, as The Far Knight Sharper.]
This is starting to look like 700s Europe where no one has confidence in the king to stop the Danes.
[Very nice analogy. I do sense, that a new Danelaw is coming. Enjoy the Kiking Age.]
‘Taking Hyphenated Names’
crackpot mailbox
The Name
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uncle satan
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night city
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all-power-fighting
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into leviathan’s maw
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your trojan whorse
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