Slices of SNAPocalypse

“Even on an aesthetic level, you annoy if not disgust them, so their mass killing won’t just continue, but intensify. This entire world is just Gaza to them.”

with gratitude to Linh Dinh at Postcards from the End.

Bonanza of Deprivations — Nov 03, 2025.

West Bridgewater is a village of 8,000 25 miles from Boston. Judging from online photos, it’s picturesque, idyllic and historical. On 10/28/25, it made international news, however, for a mere shoplifting incident. London’s Daily Mail, “Plus-size sisters attack supermarket staff and hurl racist slurs ‘while trying to steal lobster, steaks and truffle butter.’” There’s even a blow by blow:

Footage captured inside the store caught the moment the two punched an employee and hurled bags at them while shouting their heads off.

(L): Olivia and Rahjane Byrd ; (R): Phơi outside Ông Bầu in Vũng Tàu on 11/3/25

One of the sisters was seen clobbering a worker in the head, while the other charged at another employee, swinging a blue bag at them.

The real racial angle here, though, is that Olivia and Rahjane Byrd are black. Plus sized, they fit the stereotype of welfare queens abusing the system. Thinking ahead, they had to stock up on lobster meat, prime ribeye steaks and truffle butter, these cushy ho’s got taste, before their SNAP cards became useless on November 1^st, due to the evil white man.

For months online, ratchets been bitching about this day of reckoning. On TikTok, video of an enraged black woman in red hoodie has become viral. She rants, “I just wanted to come real fast, just to make this video, just to make something very, very clear to the white man. Black Americans do not care about your government shutdown. Black Americans do not care about you taking away our EBT and our government assistance, because Black Americans never depended on the American government to take care of us and feed us, because we never could. We were never able to depend on the government in spite of what you may, and what you may try to, force us to believe. So you can sit back and you can mock, you can laugh, and you can think that you’re about to starve us to death, but I’m here to let you know that we are going to eat regardless, even if we have to hunt you animals down, and roast and eat you. The delectable crackers and cheese! We will make it happen if we have to, trust and believe me.”

MAGA crackers can’t get enough of this ratchet. Matt Walsh, “They will do literally everything except get a job.” They means black parasites, but let’s consider some facts. More than 20% of SNAP recipients are old people of all races. Most worked and paid taxes their entire lives. Another +25% are children, most of whom are white! Nearly half, then, are helpless kids and seniors who would starve without SNAP.

Consider also, “More than 20,000 military families, 213,000 National Guard and Reserve members, and more than 1 million veterans, rely on such benefits, according to Veteran.com.” Having nearly died for Uncle Sam, these bums are threatened with starvation. Military.com:

SNAP is his only way for [Juan] Saro to keep food on the table for himself and two boys he cares for.

Saro survived a brain injury and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) from his time in the Navy. He later worked as a sixth-grade teacher. But COVID-related health problems made it impossible to stay in the classroom.

With a name like Juan, dude must be an illegal alien! ICE must smash through his door to deport this freeloader!

If he’s a Venezuelan drug dealer, just shoot Juan, José or Julio on sight. Nick Fuentes, too. How can you be a white nationalist with some Spic last name?!

Speaking of Venezuelans, the Dodgers wouldn’t have won the World Series without journeyman Miguel Rojas. In the 9^th inning of game 7, Rojas hit a home run to tie the contest, then threw out a runner at home to prevent a Blue Jays walk off win. When the Dodgers visit the White House, ICE must pounce on this shifty wetback. In handcuffs and shackled, Rojas will be swiftly deported to El Salvador or, better yet, South Sudan. Interviewed on field after his heroics, Rojas did show some unexpected humor, “Hitting a homer wasn’t on my Bingo card, to be honest.” Who cares. Rojas means reds, by the way, so this guy’s also a Commie.

When I arrived at Ông Bầu around 6AM, that homeless Cambodian was still asleep. To wake him, Morose nudged Phơi slightly with her foot. Not a Vietnamese name, phơi means to expose or air out. I’ve been told Phơi doesn’t even make a buck a day, scavenging plastic bottles. Still, he eats. No way neighbors would let him starve. Though transplanted, he belongs to us.

In that greatest country ever going through its golden age, this SNAP drama is just a foretaste of all sorts of deprivations, of food, energy, housing, freedom and means of escape, they have carefully planned for y’all. They’ll enjoy you becoming more wretched than those ratchets you despise so viscerally.

Postscript: Just now, some smart ass emailed me, “Rojo is red and roja is rock in Spanish, but we’re all on the rocks these days.” It’s best we settle on a compromise. Rojas, then, is “red rocks” or “rock hard reds.” This Miguel must be a Commie with a hard-on. Isn’t that the ultimate reason for deportation? How many blonde MAGA chicks have you groped lately, Miguel?

(L): St Francis of Assisi Soup Kitchen in Scranton, PA on 11/25/14 ; (R): charity food given to author in Philadelphia on 12/24/14

Uploaded Mayhem — Nov 04, 2025.

Online, Americans are sharing shoplifting tips. Many brag about their recent hauls. Others post videos telling muggers not to mess with them. An old white man says those who try will hear two sounds. The first is a stern warning. The second the cocking of his handgun. The third a loud bang only he will hear, since you’ll be dead upon the impact of his accurately aimed bullet.

Will it be between your eyes? Betcha! Maybe gramp will slot it into your loud, stinking mouth, without breaking your teeth even. Swallow that! I’d think you’d hear it for a split second, but let’s not argue with this woozy old head.

Americans are also warned against shopping at night, since some SNAP starved asshole might follow your sorry ass into the parking lot to denude you of your potato chips, cans of tuna, packets of ground beef and boxes of Hamburger Helper. He might even tail you home for even more goodies.

Check points, I hear, are already being set up by gangbangers. One way to avoid all this unpleasantness is to shoplift in the whitest and greenest neighborhoods, you know, the ones with Audis, BMWs and Land Rovers in driveways and parking lots, slim chicks jogging and kids kicking soccer balls. Don’t be wasting your time with Market Basket, Grocery Outlet or Food 4 Less. Drive a bit to hit Wholefoods, Wegmans or Harris Teeter, and don’t be flashing your chains over track suit, bunny slippers or MAGA hat. Give that shit a rest for one afternoon.

Above all, don’t be a victim. Don’t be like this sap, “Y’all, I’m literally sitting here trying not to have a full-blown meltdown. But to the person who came on my porch, like 30 minutes ago, and stole my groceries, thank you so, so much for taking from my kids. I literally spent my last $200, and during this time that we are in right now, that was literally my last. You came on my porch, and you stole everything off my porch. So thank you. Because now my kids don’t have. So you literally just took out of four little children’s mouths. And let me show you who you took from. These are my kids. And this is what you stole. So I truly, truly, and wholeheartedly hope it was worth it. And I pray that nothing but evil comes to you for doing that. Because we are all struggling. But that doesn’t mean that you go and you take from others. Simply because you just want to be selfish. Now my children won’t have after I busted my ass to make sure they have. Because you wanted to be selfish. You never know what people are going through. That’s why you don’t do certain things. So again, thanks a lot. Like a whole lot. I am so done.” Why did she leave all that shit on her porch?

Consider, “So it is what it is. Since you want to take food stamps away, I’m going to fuckin’ Walmart. I’m going to rack up any damn thing I want. Move and get the fuck out of my way! I’m not paying for a damn thing. Y’all got me fucked up. I’m about to go on that bitch, messed up, you hear me? Racking every damn thing off the damn shelf, throwing that shit in the basket, walking clean out of there! It’s about to be Thanksgiving, and Christmas is coming up! Y’all think I’m playing?” Though not an exact transcription, its spirit remains. It’s the texture and tone of this moment. It is what it is.

Quite remarkable, this evolution. Since there ain’t no revolution, it won’t be televised, but the mayhem and societal breakdown will be on TikTok and YouTube. Like everything else, those dubious, chaotic archives will disappear soon enough. Already, few can retain a thought from one minute ago. Among the ruins, no wispy narratives or explanations will rise.

(L): Atlanta, 2/23/17 ; (R): charity food given to author in Atlanta on 2/23/17

Yesterday, a friend emailed me from California, “I’m one of the down and outers dependent on that EBT handout, although lobster and sirloin aren’t to my taste—more a ramen kinda guy. Whatcha gonna do when the noodles run out and the well runs dry?” For years, my buddy Chuck Orloski, a school bus driver in his late 60’s, has relied on St. Francis of Assisi Soup Kitchen in Scranton, PA. It’s a mostly white city with blacks (6.65%) and Asians (4.68%) negligible minorities. Depressed for decades, its residents rely on all sorts of government programs. Many are rabid Trumpers, though. Chuck and I clashed over his savior.

The last time I hung out with Chuck was at a Phillies game. With tickets and beers so expensive, that was a very rare treat for either one of us. Sitting on the upper deck under a beautiful sun was heavenly. We barely cared what was happening on the field. Inside Citizens Bank Park, there were no horrors or mayhem, just men acting like boys.

This predawn in Vung Tau, I lay on the hard ground to stare up at the stars. Wrested from basic knowledge, I couldn’t identify any of them. From far away came sounds of crowing cocks and chirping crickets. Like falling leaves or the wind, they were barely audible, but I heard them. Nearby was at least one stray cat. Countless ghosts lurked.

With offshoring, endless war, Jewjabs and AI, they’re about done with useless eaters. Bailouts or universal basic income are just jokes to string you along. Even on an aesthetic level, you annoy if not disgust them, so their mass killing won’t just continue, but intensify. This entire world is just Gaza to them.

About Linh Dinh (@linhdinh):

‘Before being canceled, I was an anthologized poet and fairly prolific author, with my last book Postcards from the End of America. Now, I write about our increasingly sick world for a tiny audience on SubStack. Drifting overly much, I’m in Cambodia.

Born in Saigon, Vietnam in 1963, I lived mostly in the US from 1975 until 2018, but have returned to Vietnam. I’ve also lived in Italy, England and Germany. I’m the author of a non-fiction book, Postcards from the End of America (2017), a novel, Love Like Hate (2010), two books of stories, Fake House (2000) and Blood and Soap (2004), and six collections of poems, with a Collected Poems cancelled by Chax Press from external pressure. I’ve been anthologized in Best American Poetry 2000, 2004, 2007, Great American Prose Poems from Poe to the Present, Postmodern American Poetry: a Norton Anthology (vol. 2) and Flash Fiction International: Very Short Stories From Around the World, etc. I’m also editor of Night, Again: Contemporary Fiction from Vietnam (1996) and The Deluge: New Vietnamese Poetry (2013). My writing has been translated into Japanese, Italian, Spanish, French, Dutch, German, Portuguese, Korean, Arabic, Icelandic, Serbian and Finnish, and I’ve been invited to read in Tokyo, London, Cambridge, Brighton, Paris, Berlin, Leipzig, Halle, Reykjavik, Toronto, Singapore and all over the US. I’ve also published widely in Vietnamese.’

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