Zuccotti Park was my back-up plan. I planned to go there if my lover put me out in the cold. I hear they are giving flu shots for free. Unlike the Mexicans, I have no insurance. The hot meals that were being served down there looked appetizing on CNN. It has been decades since I last had sex in a tent. My lover is not the only one with a connection to the marijuana man. I don’t have to put up with him if I don’t want to—I hear they may permit tents in Zuccotti Park again.
Where will we go now that Billionaire Bloomberg is chasing everyone who is not Jewish and rich out of town? There are only so many swastikas one can spray paint before we run out of park benches.
The unemployed who are no longer being counted as “unemployed” simply because we ran out of unemployment benefit extensions are entitled to welfare, that is Mayor Bloomberg’s answer. I cannot imagine facing the black bitches at the welfare office again. They all seem so knowledgeable of the ‘system’ and when they see a white face, they cop an attitude. No, I’d rather camp outside and piss on a tall, pretty building. It seems so romantic—imagine Christmas Eve in the cold of Wall Street.
The New York movement needs a real leader, someone like MLK but white with prowess who is not afraid to put his life on the line for a good cause. “Try to arrest me and I’ll fucking kill your fucking family” is my motto.
The kid protestors are merely camping downtown. They are so cute in those little tents, but their leaders were trained at Columbia in the science of political movement. They know nothing about cause and effect. Occupy Wall Street needs a leader who is not afraid to go to jail—imagine all the cock an old queen can get in an upstate prison—more than is found in Chelsea or on Christopher Street in this sad, new world where even Hitler seems worthy of praise.