20 May 2006

A Cloud of Smoke

The man in the dugout of my neighbourhood ball park raised himself up in his sleeping bag when he heard the Hammer and I approach. It was morning . The sun had not quite risen high enough to light up the diamond. A cloud of smoke, acrid as that which used to choke pulp mill towns in the '60s, enveloped the mysterious figure. He coughed like he had tuberculosis and lay back down. All his motherfucking problems were gone until the Hammer walked over and started licking his face.

Someone else who gives more of a fuck about people sleeping in their park than me probably phoned the police. The police will ride by the park on their bicycles a time or two and that will be that.

The mayor has said we are tackling the problem of homelessness. Too bad the team he is tackling for is the Ottawa Renegades.

Dope City, if you have not noticed, is becoming more and more like a Third World City. People pay as much attention to mayors and other parasites as the poor do to their mayor in Mexico City. They know they are more likely to get action out of a female goat than they are out of a politician.

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