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RTS – Eviction of Frommestraße 2?

There’s nothing like an eviction of a squat early in the morning. Okay, I can imagine at least one thousand things which are better. Having the runs, for example. But today I left the house and found my self directly in front of a bunch of dark-blue dressed pigs.

The house next to the one I just left, the Frommestrasse 2 (see here what was going on there), was surrounded this morning by the police. At 7am they started to march ruthlessly into the garden, trampling over some people sitting in the garden gate, and entering the house. This action was accompanied by the protest of about 50 demonstrators. After a couple of minutes the most cops left the house, looking pretty stupid (well, no news, I know). That was the moment I had to leave to work but I heard from a resident that, in this moment (about 8:30am), there are about two hundred cops with dogs ready to evict the people from the ground.

Now I’m sitting here, pretty angry and have this catchy tune from the band Rest in Risiko. It goes like this: A-C, A.C.A.B, all cops are bastards, fight the police…

And the Song Wasteland by Goodbye Jersey:

oh shit! wake up, get out of bed! this building has been sold. the owner wants you bums to fuck off. a hotel or a new café, which will it, which will it be? you can’t go home but still go to hell.
so take you art and shit and put it in a bag. take it with you while you’re getting on the wrong track.
vanished, gone all your non-profit fun. after every home has turned into an office, our job is done.

welcome to wasteland, this city has been sold.
there ain’t no place for the sick, poor and old.
welcome to wasteland, your home has been sold.
this is the dead end of a story untold.

you don’t need no alternative to our way of life.
„buy or die“, „consume to survive“. this might sound disgusting, trust me, all of your sorrows will be destroyed by our well-tried „low price, high costs“-program.

make way! you want the things to change, be careful what you wish for. these walls got ears and pretty sharp claws. this ain’t a place to dream, this even ain’t a place to live. this is a place to go to work and spend some fucking money. dead whales along the shores, happy hour in our stores. you know what really counts. nice suit and tie, sweet as apple pie. give the poison a taste.

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