Vermin Supremacy

For 25 years, anarchist, "psy-ops clown," and former Baltimore club promoter Vermin Supreme has occupied the narrowing gap between the candidates and the cops.

by Eric Ericson, Jr. (City Paper, 2/1/2012)

Vermin Supreme is a meme, according to his music video for his song “I Am a Meme”, which I am watching on my office computer while talking on the phone to Vermin Supreme, who says he is in a “secure, undisclosed location.”

“Where did you get that pony?” I ask.

“That pony belongs to a friend,” Supreme replies. “He let me use it.”

“You have a friend who will lend you a pony? That is totally awesome.”

“Get that lyric?” Supreme asks, repeating it for emphasis: “I will be gone like yesterday’s trash, but here I am—in the pan I flash.” He laughs.

The Democratic candidate for president of the United States has an honest, hearty laugh. He amuses himself with his own absurdity, which is refreshing during this particular campaign season. In 2012, Republicans are seriously asking whether former Massachusetts Gov. Mitt Romney, who collects $57,000 every day of the year for doing no work at all, might be too rich for the presidency. As such, they are actively contemplating electing a man so hilariously megalomaniacal and demonstrably venal that sincere attempts at parody seem merely to prefigure his actual views. Supreme has long advocated waterboarding schoolchildren as part of his platform. Former Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich, by contrast, speaking at Harvard in November, declared this nation’s child labor laws “truly stupid” and proposed that unionized school janitors be dismissed wholesale and replaced by poor children in order to instill in them a proper work ethic. He later reassured voters that he was not advocating that children work in coal mines.

Meanwhile, in New Hampshire, Supreme continued to promise that his longtime push for mandatory tooth-brushing laws has nothing to do with “secret dental police kicking down your door at 3 a.m. to make sure you’ve brushed” and is, furthermore, absolutely “not about DNA gene splicing to create a race of winged monkeys to act as tooth fairies.”

Thing is, Supreme has been saying these things for decades. Far from a flash in the pan, he has been a fringe political mainstay since 1992, when he first hit the road campaigning to become mayor of the United States of America. His campaign paraphernalia was left over from an early run for mayor of Baltimore.

Continue reading Vermin Supremacy at Baltimore City Paper.

Posted in 2010s, Baltimorons, Politics, Pranks | Tagged | Leave a comment

Shit Baltimore People Say, Do, Etc. Etc.

As found on Youtube, entirely too many “Shit Baltimore People Say, Do, Etc.” videos:

There are so many of these that you may have to go to another page to view…

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Baltimore Map: “All-American City” (1977)

By “The 59 King” (Curator, The Big Map Blog)

The map was prepared by the Baltimore Department of Planning in 1977 and depicts a pseudo-isometric illustration of dowtown.  The image is freely downloadable by anyone at its highest resolution [6,197px × 9,999px].

View the ZOOMABLE map at The Big Map Blog.

 

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Bar Odyssey: Dundalk to Fells Point

By Tom Nugent (The Baltimore Sun, 3/10/1978)

Friday night, Marie’s Tavern, and Shotgun Hank is getting into the Pabst.

“Listen here,” says Shotgun, swiveling around on his bar stool, grinning wide as an Oklahoma freeway beneath his blue, Peterbilt trucker’s cap, “I got me a wife in every state I got women up and down the Eastern Seaboard. These broads call me up on that CB-19, say, ‘Let’s go get us a coffee.’ Well, they don’t want no coffee, you can bet on that….”

Marie’s Tavern, Friday night. Long, narrow bar with a dozen swivel stools before it; the bowling league score sheets taped to the wall; the velvet painting which shows some dogs playing poker, the jukebox crooning “You Are My Special Angel,” and the big, hand-painted sign above the bar:

CREDIT MAKES ENEMIES
LET’S BE FRIENDS

And Shotgun Hank. “Trucking,” he sighs, this red-bearded, broad-shouldered man with 22 years and two million miles of the long haul behind him, “It’s bacon and eggs, man, it’s nothing but bacon and eggs… You hate it when you got it… but when you ain’t got it, you hate it more.”

And then he spins on the stool: “Hey, baby,” to the barmaid, “when you get out of jail?” And she’s popping another top, PFFAFFF, and Shotgun’s talking about the trucker who left his rig on the railroad tracks, and he’s talking about how Baltimore’s Boston Street is the biggest killer of truck drivers on the Eastern Seaboard, a real kidney-slammer, and he’s telling about how they used to pay him $200 a shot to run suitcases full of uppers into New York.

Marie’s Tavern. There are a thousand places like it in Baltimore, and there are a thousand guys like Hank. They are the regulars, the steady customers, the ones who keep the small, neighborhood bars in operation, the ones who spend two or three nights a week guzzling the cold brew, complaining about work, making jokes at the barmaids, and playing pool, throwing darts, dancing, dreaming, fighting, crying, bellowing two-fisted, gone weepy-eyed as the long night drifts and Dolly Parton sings, endlessly sings, on a thousand jukeboxes: Here you come again…

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Posted in 1970s, Baltimore Babylon, Baltimorons, Beer, Booze, Dundalk, Fells Point, Highlandtown, Neighborhoods, Nightlife, Nightspots, Strip Clubs, Vices | 1 Comment