The media lens through which other people view places I actually live in, is fascinating for its distorting quality. Where ever I go across the country, when people find out I live three or four months a year in Portland, their mouths gape open and they wonder out loud about how I could live in such a dangerous place.
Portland is 3.5 times more dangerous than it was in 2019, going from 25 murders a year to 85 to 95.
This is typical across the nation in post-federally funded riot cities. Wherever the feds sent their storm troopers to loot and burn a city and inculcate the worship of blacks as demigods of unique moral superiority, you get a permanent doubling of violence at a minimum. Portland suffered more than most and all of its residence feel like it “has gone to hell” and many are selling their houses, which is the point. However, Portland was they safest mid-sized city in America, it had further to fall than others.
For instance, Baltimore typically had 200 murders a year prior to the 2015 riots, which were a federal operation, the actual clinical trial for the broader-based urban American instant-blight reboot of the 1968 urban America reshuffle. All of these things were scheduled for April, by the way. So, Portland, nearly four times the murders as before the op, is still less than half as terrible as Baltimore was before it got twice as bad.
Additionally, Portland actually have police that do not, as their main occupation, like the BPD and NYPD and Chicago and LAPD, prey upon the civilian population and act as the apex crime gang. Portland cops will not stalk you and rob you like BPD cops.
I do feel kind of cruddy, like a vulture showing up on a battlefield and declaring the banquet good. These small Asians, the old working class crackers and the little coastal Indians are easy prey for the black thugs that the Feds shipped in and for the tweaker yeti scum that are on the economic run.
The homelessness in Portland is astounding. But, that will be the case everywhere within ten years. Portland makes a good study for the general future of pale America just as Baltimore does for dark America. What is worst is that more and more of these homeless people are keeping clean camps and isolating from other homeless, telling me that they are people who have been impoverished, rather than pursuing a drug lifestyle. The rent here is very steep. Many of these people come here to die, with a couple bodies taken out of homeless tents daily. The highest casualties are among the camp followers of the invaders, not among the defenders.
I use a bar in an area called Felony Flats, that has always been regarded as a high crime zone in the working class Southeast. The bar door is now of plywood, as is the convenience cross the street, the dollar store down the street, an art co-op, a post office… Every time I go to the bar to get a half plate of meatballs and some light beer, another patron mentions yet another business that is open, but with a plywood front. I think this is good, that we lose cosmetics and take to functional construction, begin treating doors like barriers rather consumption portals. A local businessman is promoting plywood store fronts and doors as fashionable! Of old, tavern doors were of oak.
A local convenience is selling milk cheaper than supermarkets, basically giving it away to keep local foot traffic up. Women work it during the day. In the evening its two men. People are adjusting, learning that it takes a better person to navigate the low trust crime zone being ordained by the government than it did to get through life Before Floyd Christ.
Women at counters are so much more friendly than they used to be in Portland, where bitchy was once the rule and witchy the aim. Men, almost all of whom are of European heritage, are forever holding plywood doors open for each other and the non-combatant classes. The traffic laws that favor pedestrians, that Jack Donovan told me were only observed because of fear of the law, are still observed as a courtesy by all the crackers and most the other non blacks. Only black motorists in Portland practice the iconic hatred for pedestrians normal in most American municipalities I have lived. Next to Mormons, godless Portland crackers are most likely to hold the door for you or let an old dude make his way across the street with his groceries without threatening or cussing him.
Last night I had two beers with a nice lady at a dive bar who I met in another dive bar. When I stepped outside to leave, a young woman who was not having a good night, a pale woman who had been crying, who usually spit upon white men with their eyes, walked by me and said, “Hello sir, hope you are having a good night,” and entered the bar. The subtext of her statement was that those of us alone coming and going from bars at 6 p.m. on Thanksgiving night, are unlikely to be having a good night. Her behavior was a model of grace compared to typical Anglo-American feminine convention, which is to sneer at men and accuse them of bad intentions.
That is what the police state gets you... When the PIGZ turn way, women have to start acting human again to make their delicate way.
Despite Portland’s many problems, which will get worse, as the government has ordained on behalf of their real estate titan masters, there is a lot more random humanity in this town than there was before it went to hell, and a lot more than in most parts of America I have lived in. The pink-haired faɡɡots and purple-haired street theater freaks who called in their dark demigods to rule Portland in 2020, have been the first casualties. The political posters and nasty witch-hunt flyers on light poles that wallpapered this town three years ago are nowhere to be found.
People are starting to take care of people instead of agitating for the overlords to do it. Yes, I see on the news at the bar that the do-good social engineering train is still at full steam in the media sphere. But outside the dollar store, the liquor store, the bank, the bar, the grocer, the bullshit seems to have been washed away by the same visceral human aggression that the social activists thought to use for their own transformative agenda.
At this point, with a month left in Portland, I need to stop writing about it in journal, so that I can set a novel here that will hopefully capture the place true to its living form.
Portland is weird, parts of it are terrible, but it is certainly not the place its detractors imagine it to be, and nothing like the grand sissy dance its dubious advocates ever hoped it would be. Ultimately, Back the Blue cucks and Defund the Police nuts all want the same thing—total social control, a proxy thug boot on our collective neck. When they both fail then their potential livestock, being us, have a little longer to breathe.
