Who's Watching Who? by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

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Housing

Much continues to be said about this important aspect of life on this planet. Politicians are always mentioning a need for affordable housing. So why have they not made any inroads? First, it must be recognized that their goal is not to provide affordable housing, but to be in the forefront of zoning changes for higher density building, which makes the land more valuable than it was with low density zoning, and puts them in line for “contributions” from the land owners and builders.

Secondly, housing is more or less quite affordable to the average worker, and always has been. The “problem” is that most people want a better than average house, far from the N1668R5, while not having made any personal distinguishments to warrant that. Many such people find their material goals perpetually thwarted, leading them to back the jealous commies, whose primary goal seems to be making the above average areas into something reminiscent of the third world, Brazilian favelas.

Third, the best neighborhoods didn’t always have larger houses at outset, while many of the undesirable areas do. That is not to say that after an area has been deified, the rich will not go there to build gigantic homes. The dynamic behind all this are the people, not the brick and mortar. The unspoken reality is

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that the market prices are determined by Whites seeking a safe area somewhere within two hours of the job, which is not overwhelmed with slobby B&B bums.

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Set Up

Ranney had a secret reason for loving the night. It was easy to take advantage of the cop defunded, cop deficient, purposely inoperative or hopelessly blurred surveillance systems, designed to obscure the predatory B&B’s by the city’s B&B government. What the B&B’s in charge had not anticipated was that this same system could be used for the benefit of Whites. You know, they’re not all that bright.

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Ranney saw that under the current “governance,” cops were not very inclined to arrest anyone who they expected to put up a modicum of resistance, for legitimate fear of being dismissed, charged with a crime, incarcerated, or sued civilly. Cops are practical people who do what the powers that be call for rather than pursue any ideals or conscription to any silly oath. It was much easier, more safe, and more lucrative to do interminal “investigations” by viewing films and reading social media posts, putting out stills asking for the public’s help. ..... Hell, they probably voted in the likes of “Village Idiot” Johnson in Chicago and “Big Fat Slob” Pritzker in Illinois state; and are getting what they asked for.

Ranney didn’t participate in any social media. He put no value in trying to accumulate likes from people he disrespected. But more importantly, in that same vein, he wasn’t stupid enough to incriminate himself.

He never wore clothes which advertised his beliefs. MAGA hats and T-shirts depicting nooses were for the suckers. They’re used by the B&B loving cops to “establish” intent, and Ranney thought that his intent was solely his business, and if he was ever

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caught at anything, he wasn’t about to make it easier for the B&B’s to “prove” it.

Ranney made good use of another childhood possession, purchased so long ago it was now untraceable. It was a rubber mask he used to wear on Halloween. It resembles a geeky fortyish face. Originally the entire costume was called a hobo, an outfit no doubt deemed “inappropriate” now in the enlightened third decade of the twenty-first century. The mask, which used to fit loosely over his entire tiny head; now tight enough on his big one to not be detected from ten feet. He wore it only when hunting in his forties noir attire, donning it when halfway to town while walking through the secluded park, and offing it in the same place on the way back.

When not doing his work, Ranney kept his mask and forties clothing in a hidden spot in his apartment. Some former tenant hollowed out a gun rack by prying up a floorboard, to apparently keep his important stuff in that place between the second floor ceiling underneath, and the wooden floorboard that was tapped gently back in place when not in use. “The old wood was a lot more useful than this new faux shit they call engineered wood.“ thought Ranney.

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Ranney was no longer young, and wanted to make a contribution to the society which enabled him to work and support a wonderful and well loved wife and family. Even on the odd chance that he was caught, he thought; “My wife passed a few years ago and I have no interest in finding another. My kids were well trained and are taking good care of themselves and their kids, in other parts of the country.”

Looking Into You

Jackson Browne

Well I looked into a house I once lived in

Around the time I first went on my own

When the roads were as many

As the places I had dreamed of

And my friends and I were one

Now the distance is done

And the search has begun

I've come to see where my beginnings have gone

Oh the walls and the windows were still standing

And the music could be heard at the door

Where the people who kindly endured my odd questions

Asked if I came very far

And when my silence replied

They took me inside

Where their children sat playing on the floor

Well we spoke of the changes that would find us farther on

And it left me so warm and so high

But as I stepped back outside to the grey morning sun

I heard that highway whisper and sigh

"Are you ready to fly?"

And I looked into the faces all passing by

It's an ocean that will never be filled

And the house that grows older and finally crumbles

That even love cannot rebuild

It's a hotel at best

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You're here as a guest

You ought to make yourself at home

While you're waiting for the rest

Well I looked into the dream of the millions

That one day the search will be through

Now here I stand at the edge of my embattled illusions

Looking into you

Ah the great song traveler passed through here

And he opened my eyes to the view

And I was among those who called him a prophet

And I asked him what was true

Until the distance had shown

How the road remains alone

Now I'm looking in my life

For a truth that is my own

Well I looked into the sky for my anthem And the words and the music came through

But words and music will never touch the beauty that I've seen

Looking into you

And that's true

Written by Jackson Browne.

This was Ranney’s personal explanation to God of what he was doing having no negative effect on anyone except the devils.

So, Ranney posed as a solitary White victim, flashing his Rolex under the central city street lights. Without exception, he was approached every night by one or two B&B’s desirous of a few days supply of crack. When one put their hand near Ranney’s face he pulled out his gun and shot them in their face(s). Seems fair, no? Regardless, it was a powerful pleasurable intoxicant for Ranney; better than fentanyl. Better than hook up sex.

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Happiness Is a Warm Gun

The Beatles

She's not a girl who misses much

Do do do do do do, oh yeah

She's well-acquainted with the touch of the velvet hand

Like a lizard on a window pane

The man in the crowd with the multicolored mirrors

On his hobnail boots

Lying with his eyes while his hands are busy

Working overtime

A soap impression of his wife which he ate

And donated to the National Trust

I need a fix 'cause I'm going down

Down to the pits that I left uptown

I need a fix 'cause I'm going down

Mother Superior jumped the gun

Mother Superior jumped the gun

Mother Superior jumped the gun

Mother Superior jumped the gun

Mother Superior jumped the gun

Mother Superior jumped the gun

Happiness is a warm gun (bang, bang, shoot, shoot)

Happiness is a warm gun, momma (bang, bang, shoot, shoot)

When I hold you in my arms (ooh, oh, yeah)

And I feel my finger on your trigger (ooh, oh, yeah)

I know nobody can do me no harm (ooh, oh, yeah)

Because

Happiness is a warm gun, momma (bang, bang, shoot, shoot)

Happiness is a warm gun, yes it is (bang, bang, shoot, shoot)

Happiness is a warm, yes it is, gun (happiness, bang, bang,

shoot, shoot)

Well, don't you know that happiness is a warm gun momma?

(Happiness is a warm gun, yeah)

Written by Paul McCartney and John Lennon.

He'd see the failed predator B&B bums on the ground, their eyes bulging more than usual; in pain and surprise, looking up to

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receive their second shot in the chest, putting their lights out forever. Ranney’s only regret was his inability to savor his work very long as he had to get out of there, before some asshole with a smart phone camera tried to make him famous. He also thought it best not to take any remembrances which could pop up in an investigation. The indelible imprint in his mind had to suffice.

Ranney had put away seventeen so far, and every time the shooting was officially attributed to gang activity. “No need for public concern,” invariably said the dem authorities, a worn out cliché still used.

Hehehe. One only needs to stop wasting time trying to change an unchangeable system, and rather just make targeted use of what the demonic dem system allows. ........ Ecstacy, without Molly; and the realization that one is doing the work of God.

Someone who is not serious about doing a thing , broadcasts/ telegraphs the thing, talks/posts about the thing . This gives the countless enemy judges plenty of time to prepare for blocking "the thing".

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I mean, look at everyone already counting this as some great win EXACTLY like alllll the fraud DOGE confirmed and never prosecuted.

Over 12 Million social security scammers found in June 2025 . Not one person arrested.

FORTY BILLION a year being put on Gooberment credit cards -nobody held accountable.

Israeli pedophile head of cyber security in Israel, Tom Artiom Alexandrovich, still Zero punishment for trying to have sex with American children.

The bar is set so frick'n low now Americans consider "I'm thinking about doing a thing" a record breaking win.