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Situation on the Ground
Living in the Shadow of the Migrant Crisis Part 8 by Teutonic Fist
© 2018 James LaFond
JUN/22/18
Across the street where i live there is a Food Bank. It moved in there a year after I moved in here. Before it was a bottle shop or beverage market or however you call the stores bigger then a liquer store. Now its a food bank that gives leftovers to the needy and often greedy and sells them donated clothes and stuff like that. I seldom see any pale faces there. A year after this thing got there the migrant crisis started, and shortly therefor a reception camp was placed two blocs down from here. Mostly tents and a container.
The fugees so far I encountered from there were, in almost three years by now, once a group of Arabs holding hands, which is something the Arabs that are here since a while don't do, and some Afghans trying to climb a tree in the park. A small one, roughly the size of a cherry tree and covered in moss that dirtied their donated or scavaged clothes, yet that couldn't stop them since they made the impression they never seen a tree before.
Also once there was a group of Somalie looking like Skinnies dragging a crate of beer through the park to some artificial lake that is used to store rain water. The thing is shallow so no grown man is in the risk of drowning there even if he walks through, which none the less a risk the Skinnies could face since their enviorment and probably one or two famine denied them the few inches one would need to master this task. And so they sat there, trying to getting used to the local brewerage, talking to each other in their Chatter-Chatter "look at me, I'am da beer drinker now".
Only thing missing was the Somali version of "dead man's chest".
So in wondered how these poor wretches could pose a physical risk to anyone who isn't a child. So the collapse of a civilization doesn't even provide an enemy anymore.
More concerning is as always the utter stupidity with which some locals face the need changes to their habitat. There were ofcourse some council meetings in regards to the new asylum centers in which the local mayor together with some special commissioner, most often a relative of the mayor or someone else in the miserable corrupt apparatus of local government, talk to a room full of grey boomers about how we will all manage this. Was there ever a naive and retarded creature as the western boomer?
These people imagine the refugees as some sort of children from the 1950 who will be realy happy to play board games with said boomers and do other sorts of occupational therapy. These people have impressions about the West that these could boomers are not able to comprehend and that lead to these moments when Grandma in front of the Computer tells you "That is not the Creampie I was looking for". But more often, it leads to situations where some childless old lefti comes to the local bike stores and asks for something cheap, a bicycle that he could give to some refugee. Happend especialy often during the first winter, when some idiot had the idea he needs to buy a bicycle in November that some poor drag from the desert can ride in the winter.
Usually you sell the idiot some overpriced piece and then buy it back for not even 1/5 from the fugee that brings it back the next day so that he can buy himself some booze or cigarrets. This racket is still better for the ones involved then to suck dick in the public toilets. Thats usually something Afghans make some money with. The price for a BJ in the Park dropped to five euros thanks to these foreign skilled labor imports, which is just one euro short of a pack of cigarrets. So imagine that they take some journey in the back of a truck or even under it so that they can suck milky, soure cock in a public restroom. Hopefully the conditions get more misserable so that the actual conditions in their shithole countries look better in comparisson.
Meanwhile we watch, and move on.
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Bob     Jun 22, 2018

OK, you win. I laughed at loud at Granma.
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