Okay… let’s put it another way. Take me away. That’s more like it. Has a pleasing finality, a sense of “closure” – that quintessentially American value. Yes, that’s it. Closure. Aaaaahhhhhhh. Multo mucho end-o-lissimo.
As some of you will recall, your Big Green fiends (I mean, friends… what a difference a letter makes!) were served last week with that loathsome object known as a writ of eviction. Seems there are forces at work in the land that want to keep the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill — our beloved squat — as abandoned as its name suggests. They also happen to have local codes and property law on their side, it appears. Not good. Not at all good to have police showing you the door… especially when they want you to walk through it, besides. (I’ve seen the freaking door, okay? Stop pushing me!) I mean, it’s one thing to throw people bodily out of the only home they’ve ever called their own…. but you don’t need to get nasty about it. Or do you….?
Got to tell you, this is all about money. Sure, sure, you’ve heard me jabber on about this before. But it’s true, I’m telling you. I’ve got it on the best authority — Marvin (my personal robot assistant), who has been hanging 
around the local public houses, Tonto like, listening in on other people’s conversations. These real estate developers from Madagascar, it seems, have targeted the Cheney Hammer Mill as part of a larger parcel that will soon be converted into luxury condos and sold to… well… sold to people who can afford them. People like Mitch Macaphee. You know… the heavy wallet brigade. Silver and riches. Gold and jewels. That’s all that ever matters to the local planning ministry! They would sell their grandmother’s grave to developers, and send the same thugs harassing us now to see her exhumed and consigned to street beggary.
Do I seem bitter? Well, hey… I just spent the night in the flapjack vendor’s cart with Marvin running interference. My ass is killing me. Even more troubling is the fact that this consortium of developers will not stop with our humble hammer mill. I’ve heard mutterings that they are planning to pave over large sections of the Indian Ocean and start selling parcels to retirees and businesses. Mitch Macaphee’s eyes kind of lit up when he heard about this little scheme — I could almost see the diagrams being 
drafted in that big floppy brain of his. A veritable city on the sea. As if that isn’t bad enough, I can see the same kind of sparkle in Commandante Lincoln’s eyes, as well: vast new lands to conquer! A new horizon for the hoary junta. God be praised!
But hey… we’re not beaten yet. No sir, not by a long shot. This is just the opening salvo in Big Green‘s continuing battle for its wholly illegitimate home. Hey – be that as it may, it is more legitimate than that bloody flapjack stand. (And a hell of a lot roomier, too.)
