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When Your Neighbors Hate You
Tony Rooster

A couple of years ago when I was living in an apartment on 52nd Ave in SE Portland, some young white hipster got himself all killed up, shot in the head for the 2 cases of beer he was carrying. It happened around 1:30 am, and lucky me, it happened in my driveway about 50 feet from where my children sleep.

The dumpster next to the blood stained driveway instantly became a shrine. For, whenever a young white boy is senselessly killed in a white neighborhood, it is, of course, a "tragedy".

News reporters, solemn looking old ladies, and of course hipsters, hipsters, hipsters, took to crying and lighting candles there at the memorial dumpster. It all got to be too much. I didn't mind drinking the beer that was always being left there, but really, besides that it was a major annoyance. These people just couldn't let go of their false grieving. Every time I took out the trash I'd try to shoo these morbid barnacles away. "Go write a damn poem. Spread his ashes on the highway. Seek vengeance. Whatever. Just LEAVE!!"

So I kept throwing the flowers and candles in the dumpster, drinking the beer, and getting yelled at and threatened almost every time I stepped outside.

It was all very humorous to me, as I'm the type who is much more comfortable being disliked than the not. The landlord tried to evict me and I told her that I double checked the rental agreement, and desecrating a shrine isn't mentioned anywhere.

The sanctimoniousness of Man is an endless well.

The Hunt for Whitey

Recognizing and Surviving the Condition of Anarcho-Tyranny

The Hunt for Whitey on Kindle

Recognizing and Surviving the Condition of Anarcho-Tyranny

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PRSeptember 27, 2017 8:56 AM UTC

My neighbors hate me for dampening their drug operation and chasing their pit bulls with a pitch fork. Gosh I'm a dick.