This morning, as I came home early on the #36, and passed through crime ridden Overelea Station, where I have seen broad daylight gang stompings, where shootings have occurred this year, where the bar on the corner employees a four-man security squad at the door, for the first time in 36 years I saw a cop on foot making sure that mass transit users and personnel are safe!
The clouds separated and the hand of the Almighty passed over the City of the Damned and white lilies began to spring from the cracked asphalt, rats arose from the gutters and danced around an alley cat, singing of peace in our time—then Little Dave told me about getting attacked at the bus stop last Friday and the grey clouds were restored, the flowers wilted and life was going my way again.
As I walked up under the worn gables of the old plantation house, I picked up the Anarcho-Tyranny Mouthpiece, otherwise known as The Baltimore Sun, and noticed that our paleface HPC has reassigned 150 cops, who had been pulled off of Drug War details, into 21 District Action Teams, two per a precinct, with three linebacker teams. The incongruously concerned cop was now explained.
But never fear, despite the machinations of this do-gooder cop, the Harm City Hoodrats are still hitting hard, breaking 200 kills on Wednesday.
Hope springs eternal in Harm City.
Welcome to Harm City, White-Boy
