Oh, here they come, self-righteous, pretentious JOBSWORTHS!

The Streets are clean, YES?  We don't have a PROBLEM with litter, do we?  NO!

So why, why the ACTUAL FUCK, are the Street Sweepers sweeping away newspapers?

We need newspapers.  WE NEED NEWSPAPERS!

Say it LOUD and say it PROUD, WE NEED NEWSPAPERS!

We have guns, do we not?  Doesn't City Hall realise and understand that we can and WILL shoot random people if we don't get our newspapers?

Leave the newspapers on the stands, Street Sweepers, they aren't litter!

Peace & Love - SOOTY4

Please don't take this the wrong way, I'm asking this in the best way I can. But what in the hell are you talking about?

Hearing the loud rant she stops and addresses the topic at hand...

Doesn't City Hall realise and understand that we can and WILL shoot random people if we don't get our newspapers?

These streets have gone years at times without a newspaper. I'm sure we'll find another way to soothe our souls should this one join the rest of them. Our ancestors didn't shoot people for shits and giggles out of the sheer lack of literature then, I don't see it happening now. We do have some morals and standards after all. Classy criminals most of us are.

If you are looking for the latest to grace our shores there's a news stand on OOC Avenue that still has a few copies left I'm sure. Some say it's because the editor failed to removed obvious signs of an OOCitis infected article or two. Such a sad thing that OOCitis. I hear it can be cured with special cookies and a rigorous mental workout. There are several guides around that can help people avoid the infection even.

Holding City Hall and it's team of Street Sweepers hostage by threatening random mass murder is a bit extreme isn't it? They're only doing their jobs and keeping trash off the Streets. Especially OOC infested trash.

She smiles sweetly and returns to her quest for a good cup of coffee.

Lillith, you are a bit of and idiot, aren't you?  You remind me of someone...  Someone vile...

Anyway, City Hall only respond to the rattle of gunfire and maybe it's time that the citizens of this world paid with their BLOOD for the misruling of their so-called betters.

blood.  Blood.  BLOOD

If you're so desperate for newspapers that you'd start an insurrection, why not write one yourself? I hear printing presses are starting to be cheaper to own yourself.

We can happily allow you to sacrifice yourself and use your blood to cleanse the streets SOOTY4. The streets love to bath in the blood of attention seeking folk from time to time. Those that offer little more than noise and love the sound of their own voices.

The literature in question was clearly written by someone suffering and had content that would have raised far too many questions about cosa nostra. It is exactly the type of content that we keep those guys in city hall paid to remove from our streets. Heck, I'd offer them a nice tip if they took a more active stance on moving along nonsense speeches like this one that offer nothing of note and are simply a blight on our footpaths.

"Who the fuck is this stooge?" Constantine blurted out, as he approached Lillith, holding a massive homemade sign that had the words 'Just Say No' in thick black paint. He had just caught her before she completely left the area.

He was on his way to another street corner with his new protest banner where vagrants and other shit kickers were congregating, making a mess of the streets, when he heard the commotion.

After watching and listening from a distance moments earlier, he caught the gist the man was referring to the most recent publication to hit the streets. What else could he be talking about?

Constantine then addressed Sooty.

"You're obviously working out of Chicago, cause you're fuckn Bonkers. If you call that thing a worthy newspaper that's necessary around here you need to check yourself into an asylum. I do know Chicago has some crazies, and LA are a little into their whips and shit, but you sir need a straight jacket and maybe an exorcism, cause Lysol wont wash away stupidity."

"I wish it did, cause then we could simply just scrub the bums and recurring levels of self imposed ignorance to what constitutes standards off the streets. But, it's only good as a contraceptive. So you may want to grab some if you plan on knocking out anymore nutjobs like yourself."

Constantine then turned his attention back to Lillith, shaking his head.

"Who the hell breeds these demon spawn? Even the devil himself wouldn't approve of this level of shit stain. This, must simply be human ignorance cause OOCitis is curable and demons can be exorcised. But nutters like this just cant be fixed."

Constantine then presented the 'Just Say No' sign to Lillith, standing it upright on the long fence paling he stole from some new business site in Vegas. He flicked it around and took a gander himself, making sure the 'Just Say No' sloppily painted words were clearly visible to her.

BlackJack is strolling down the street, as usual with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He stops as he sees a small group of people gathering and discussing the city's street sweepers. He listens in to the opinions being shared before stepping forward to talk:

"SOOTY4, I can appreciate what you are saying but can not appreciate the way in which you are saying it. If you are referencing the newspaper which i published, I do not think that the street sweepers really did anything super wrong. While I was angry at the time, I can appreciate their point of view, in reality, the first edition of the National Mafia Times was far too forward thinking for the current climate. I can assure you that future editions will be far less progressive. Sometimes in order for us to change the way people think we need to gently influence their thoughts, not force ours on them up front."

BlackJack pauses to take a drink from his flask and allows someone else the opportunity to speak.

BlackJack steps forward once more to address the crowd. He had noticed that no other member of the community had moved to speak after him. He takes another sip out of his flask before returning it to his pocket and clearing his throat:

“Fello Mafioso, I have reflected further on this conversation and realised that I do in fact still have some thoughts which I have not expressed. The street sweepers often go unnoticed and remove rubbish from the streets anonymously. There is currently no way to get in contact with someone who has swept your rubbish away. It might be handy if the street sweepers take some more credit for their work and mark the places they have swept, that way, if something accidentally gets caught up in the street sweep, we can get in contact with them to discuss it. I know that it is rare for things to be caught up which shouldn’t be but surely we are better to have the measure in place for the protection of our community as a whole.”

BlackJack steps back and lights up a cigarette. He offers a smoke to the people around him as a gesture of good will.

Constantine thought about leaving it, as he believed the man with the editorial role in a publication who earlier didn't seem to really grasp what was or wasn't street worthy, wasn't really open to it anyway. As many others who copped a swift hit of criticism to the soft spot of insecurity also weren't.

It was just one of those human things, and reminded Constantine of the saying 'Don't give advice, cause the wise don't need it and fools don't heed it'.

Demons were easier to deal with. You babbled some biblical crap and hit the right holy chords and back to shitsville they went. But man, and his ego, were another story.

Since Constantine was already here though, he thought, why the fuck not indulge. And he was very much beyond advice. His latest trip downstairs killed a little bit more of his compassion. And experiencing countless examples of people not at all open to learning about this fine world created by the Gods, that left him rather blunt and direct.

"Good point you bring up, well, kind of, but not really. The street sweepers you talk of have no face. They are simply forces of nature. Like God's at work. Augustus Caesar would have a long list about them. So you see, you can only really imagine them, and just like your conversations with the one called Squishy, the street sweepers only exist in your mind."

"Sometimes we wish we could battle the forces of the universe in a real physical sense, but it's just not how it works. Toss up an apple, and gravity brings it down again. You don't then want to speak with gravity and argue if maybe it was doing it's job wrong, now would you?"

"I think you may have an over obsession with the Gods. You'd probably be good in my line of work. But, you'd still need to be realistic and connected to these times, and not completely lost in another realm or dimension. Sure footing in the physical is necessary, even for practitioners of magick."

"If you want to argue your disagreement with how the universe works though, maybe take up meditation. What you'll find, by opening your mind, you'll then be more receptive to life's inner workings, the maths of it all. Cause only with an open mind and attitude, can you go from ignorance to knowledge."

"Some never get to truly understand how it all works, the rules and natural laws. But that's up to them. A closed mind is all they need. And a pocketful of answers instead of a flowing stream of questions is going to keep them there."

"Best not to argue with the Gods, and instead seek knowledge elsewhere. If you look closely enough, you'll find truth written through all things. Look to readily available knowledge through sources laid down by those who have already walked your path. It's all out there for the earnest student, but only for those who take on that role."

You know, just from hearing this; why don't you just do it yourself? Attention seekers like yourself only get so far in this world, and while we do; we stare at them and wonder how long it's gonna be before their mental state crumbles down into a dark abyss. Instead of priding yourself on wishing to murder street sweepers, make the newspaper yourself and do your own content instead of complaining out here. Beggars can't be choosers.