Nearing the Nightmare-Cusp of a Double Term Bush Empire & Streetgangs are Born Again Slapped Violently Away from the Red Carpets of Mother USA
October 2004
Streetgangs are on the rise again in America. America has rejected so many of its own children. Runaway children are wild on the streets, rejected and looking for love, often tough love, wherever and whenever they can find it.
They are temporary nihilists, passing thru different kinds of beliefs and falling thru the cracks of the system just as they pass thru shelters in the night and as scraps of food drop thru their own digestive systems. They will believe in YOU… if you help them survive. The USA and its rinky-dink rhetoric, its mediated hypno-facade, have lost all novelty, as seen thru the clear windows to their souls. They feel nothing but the razor’s edge of artifice, as they try to climb over and escape the walls that imprison them in this so-called post-modern reality.
Perhaps the cycles of the moon may be their only guiding light, within the periphery of the endless anarchy of night. Your faithful reporter's humble advice at this point is, check your heart first and then your head when coming into contact with streetgang members in the streets – streets extending in any direction from the heart attack nerve centers of the USA - [Washington, D.C. & N.Y.C.]. Will you welcome them with open arms and charity or will you choose to match the strength of their motorcycles, chains, baseball bats, icepicks, pool cues, brass knuckles, swords, and switchblade knives? There is a likelihood that there will be bloodshed, timeless bloodshed, as there has always been. Either way, we all inevitably Go with the Flow
Baby Adoption or Underhanded Business Deal?
Monday, June 13, 2005
A member of the Psychic Streetgang of 8 was seen at the "Making Time" monthly musical event held at Club Transit in Philadelphia last Saturday night, June 11, 2005, talking to two middle-aged men dressed in Brooks Brothers suits. The three were standing off in the side shadows, smiling crocodilian, punctuating their hearty laughter by clinking their bottles of Zima together.
Their presence did NOT elicit much curiosity at all from other patron scenesters in the building. After about ten minutes of more toasts, laughs, and discussion, one of the two elderly businessmen seemed to attempt a specialized handshake with the streetgang member, and suddenly bowed rather gravely, turning silent. He was wearing a double-breasted jacket, diagonally-striped tie, a Phil Collins-styled haircut, and heavy eyebrows. He departed forthwith.
Then the two remaining - 'street tough' and 'suit' - stepped off quietly to a balcony. The suit patted the tough on the back reassuringly and pulled from his inner jacket pocket a packet of Benson & Hedges cigarettes, offering one to his younger associate. The two now appeared relieved...jubilant, indulgent, puffing away, overlooking the crowd. Their laughter was now more expansive.. exploratory.. whereas before it was strictly business and bravado. Can you fathom the notion of exploratory laughter? That's almost precisely how it sounded. The streetgang tough was wearing his hair in sort of a post-psychedelic mod style, a bit unkempt and black, along with a sleeveless t-shirt, tight black jeans, snakeskin belt, and brown engineer boots. The shadowy suit & tie fellow bore quite a peculiar likeness to actor Michael Gross of 80s sitcom "Family Ties," albeit with a less trustworthy air about him.
Having prepared for the evening undercover, dressed as a "hipster", I approached the duo. Affecting a devil-may-care attitude I asked, in a provincial south Philadelphia accent, just what they were celebrating. The streetgang member, looking down his nose at me in response, said "my, eh, father was just brimming over with enthusiasm at my noble decision to adopt a child. I suggest you do the same. Now let me do you an immense favor and bid you farewell..." and getting closer to my ear, his eyes widening, whispered: "I'm a NARC you know!!" And with that he pinched my nose and pushed me away. The two of them stood facing me stoically, with their arms folded across their chests until I left the scene.