Flash Bazbo
BANNED
- Joined
- Feb 17, 2017
- Messages
- 736
Toronto after dark has become a shadow world, in which the privilege fear to venture out after dusk, and the ghost dance of the underworld usurps the streets. East of Yonge Street, the homeless are creating the world of "A Clockwork Orange", where young punks without moral compasses seek out victims who are careless or weak, to feed their appetites for sex, drugs, and nicotine.
Those who think underage prostitution isn't a major concern probably haven't been off their computers after dark recently. These 'low litas' aren't fob Asians, trafficked by organized crime cartels. These are the nomadic youths who come to the big city, with big, naive dreams, and end up addicted to crack cocaine, crystal meth, and a 'you only live once' lifestyle fueled by irresponsibility and life in the moment, without concern for how they will provide for themselves tomorrow.
It's a dog-eat-dog world in which the pimps are homeless, as well, and everything is expected to be free for the asking, from a nanny state out of control. If you don't believe me, walk along Queen Street East from Yonge Street to River Street, turn north to Shuter Street, walk west to Sherbourne Street, north to Carleton Street, west to Yonge, and south to where you started, any dry night, after midnight. Walk quickly, don't make eye contact, and don't be alone, unless you have a good rep in the hood.
The winter shelters have emptied, and the young have been booted from the nest. Nocturnal predators are always on the lookout for the new, just like in the primal jungles and savannas of the Old World. Whatever you do, don't withdraw funds from an ATM, if you don't have eyes in the back of your head. I'm not dumb enough to do that, but others are.
It seems like the tribes of 'consumer-survivors' spend all of their money on drugs and bling on the last day of each month, then they hustle for small change and handouts every other day. No one seems to care about them; their only purpose seems to be to consume goods and services, drain other people's resources, and worry about tomorrow after dawn.
I have no idea what the going rate for that kind of action would be, nor would I want to find out. Who knows what you could catch, from drug addicted kids, without a care in the world. They used to say that there's a broken heart for every light on Broadway. Now there's a used syringe, discarded beer can, or cigarette butt for every homeless teenager, aged 35 or less. New meat arrives daily. Avoid it like the plague.
