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Crackpot Mailbox: Harm City Spreads its Charm for Toker and Banjo
As texts from back east piled up this week, I was standing at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change, noticing that three other people were lined up next to me ready to cross. Then, when the light changed to the walking ghost we crossed and no one zoomed through in a Lexus trying to hit any of us.
That observation aside, I thought back to all of the times I can recall crossing streets back in Baltimore, and never in all my 40 years, did I ever cross a street with a stranger. I can not recall ever even being in the act of crossing a street with others in the same direction, simply because that many strangers never congregate at crossings unless they are there to shakedown, threaten or ambush or follow a mark.
Just before the end of my 57th year I had the realization, that only in Portland and Manhattan have I ever had the mundane experience of crossing a street at a crosswalk with a human being that was not dogging or hunting me for some unsavory purpose. This is something so simple, that happens about once a day for me here, that it amazes that it never happened once in a lifetime in the hell-scape known as Baltimore.
Below find some missives from back east.

"Bix-Nod," said the text from Toker the Big House Tarzan in the following three texts:
"Even down here [Florida] a pain in the bag bix nod is.
"Bix-nod = boons"
"they generally z me as an enemy real quick."

"In case you missed the essence of Baltimore...
"Today two women almost came to blows for no particular reason that I could discern except a mild slight of reaching in front of the other. It was like two fighting roosters who just start fighting on sight. Then they start calling the demons out of each other in the name of Jesus. Good times...
It was weird, never before witnessed a demon casting out competition or prayer used to say "fuck you." Degenerates can be pretty entertaining."
"Take Good care."
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