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I worked in one of the busiest farm and feed supply store locations in the nation. I know why public health care and public retirement is going to fail. The men nicked name the warehouse “the Dungeon,” and make no mistake I’ve seen what fates men find in the dungeon.
This album will be my hip hip/rap psychopath alter ego introduction.
I wanted to help these people, but they wanted an excuse to go home and do drugs; it makes the news funnier I hear. I separated myself from them else my emotions would mean nothing. Caring for someone who is unwilling to care for themselves, it was one of the few if not last passages of manhood.
It was twisted dark passage of manhood. Usually men forged their identity in a group of men. I could not trust anyone employed at that location, they were all a living boil in one way or another. I’ve seen men and women fail and opt to be anything but that. Thanks for the gift.
I kept a journal, and recently I found myself reading the Edda. As I read the Edda I’m reminded of my journal.
White identity is coming back.
Without a reward