Finally a Newspaper Article that Tells You Where to Buy Some Crack

Hey some journo fuck tried to interview me for some shitty rag and I ended up making page 6! Check it out:

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Class Conflict in West LA Foments in Westwood

Local Swine Delay the Inevitable Daily Bum Riots...Pols, Figureheads, Wealthy Nihilists Giddy...Luxury Apartments Surrounded by a Human Moat of Shit and Piss in Westwood...No Rules, No Laws, Get Your Kicks While You Can...Crack, Violence, and Human Life are all Cheap on the Mean Streets of LA's Wealthiest District...The Only Part of Town Where You Can See a Hollywood Premier Being Busted Up By An Army of Hobos...

by Willis Todhunter Ballard

Westwood is a town where the chic and vicious live next to one another with a fragmented dividing line keeping the two from exploding in daily, all-out violence. The commercial district there is a small area consisting of a 3x3 square of city blocks, and needless to say there is not much space for the thousands of human beings who hit the streets every day. The cramped district allows no avoiding the many street people who either live there or are bused in from downtown every day. They ask for nothing: they will not accept money, food, or kind words. Their very existence seems to act like a slap across the face to the local police, who are driven into an orgy of arrests and brutality every morning (when there aren't any bystanders to witness it). For now those in power have corralled the street people into the western blocks, but they slip further and further east every day.

I asked around and found their leader--a pale, twitchy man named "Spike"--who told me he was "the king of the streets, man." Based on observations, Spike appears to be about 55 years old and his daily drug intake is equivalent to the entire city of La Brea. In between nodding off and talking to an imaginary person he referred to as "Tommy C", he said that he is a concert promoter who attends 30 concerts a week, "mostly just to steal a wheeze off the booze spigots, man." The man is clearly delusional. He offered to get me an all-access pass to the needle party tonight, but when I asked him where it was all he said was, "Huh?"

They don't make people like Spike anymore...but just to be safe, he ought to be castrated. Castrated? Jesus, is nothing sacred?! No, not in these times. The cops don't ask questions, they just slap the handcuffs on and ask the details later after their baton hands have been warmed up from your savage beating. When I left Spike, he was about to be hauled away, all the while screaming that the police were "All a bunch of fucking animals!" I suspect they're taking him off to the glue factory to get some use out of him after all...

The broken and angry are the new rulers of Westwood, and if they can organize there will be outright riots. There's not enough opposition to stem the tide, and the growing number of homeless due to the sinking economy will provide more than enough soldiers to fight the war for the streets. I say let it come, let them bring down all the organic grocery stores and luxury apartments that try to glaze over the sourness of these times. Of course, if you actually do want to do something about it there are easy ways to help. Better get on their good side now, because that guy on the street corner talking to himself is going to be the King of Westwood in another month or two.

Willis Todhunter Ballard is a freelance journalist in Los Angeles who has also written numerous texts about home-made defense devices and weaponry, most notably his 1971 screed "How to defend yourself, your family, and your home;: A complete guide to self-protection". His whereabouts are currently unknown.