One Rubber Boot In the Grave

The mayor of Steepleton, a fine man who has had one rubber boot in the grave and the other on a relentless casino development proponent's neck for years, has finally told the local hick gestapo to lay off the homeless camped on wooded city property near the highway bypass. I have seen police running around the area making themselves look busy for some time. Now both myself and the Hammer can stop wondering where the homeless near my place have disappeared to. The Hammer has been reduced to eating soggy newspapers in the park. Come to think of it, newspapers are a stinking close relative of homeless people's shit.

The local chapters of Animal Sacrificing Christians in favour of the demolishing of whatever the ghost of Richard Nixon wants bombed and bombed good will soon be swooping down on the camp to pass out Bibles that will make great asswipe for those who do not burn them for warmth first.

The move by the city has made front page news. Looks like a homeless man's protests about the Steepleton Christians being the most heartless, unhelpful motherfuckers on Earth toward the poor have not fallen on deaf ears. You do not hear about the success of the philosophy often, so pay attention, Anarchy works. Sometimes a little action goes a long way.