Actually I dont need agents. I cut them out anyway unless they hot and let me dump on them. Might cut the selling agent a 1/2% in that case. Doesnt cost me a penny anyway down there. Actually it costs the agent a chochoate-vanilla penny and a few days on the shitter. Homeowner happier that way too.
So now we get the true story betwixt Pumpy & Kim.
Unfortunately splitskin I disqualified men and ugly bitches above. Kim could be either but still not in the picture for me. Come un grudgle , I was just starting to like your material.on occasion.
That place is gonna POP huge. Calling all RE agents...get your signs up down there. Pup knows Seattle real estate...then again what doesnt he know. Might just buy a few 'cabañas down there myself. If you are male or an ugly female agent do not bother.!
Fashion isnt hipster. Its non-fashion fashion that works. A woman likes a real man over a skinny-jeans "hipster". Chicks like broad chested guys in filson, that can fix their plumbing, over a little beer-sipping Seattle pussy.
Gavin Mcinnes is a hipster, not a real man like pup, but a guy with real style, and real politics.. These seattle "hipsters" are the worse kind of posers. Its embarrassing to watch. A little X once in a blue moon and trendy adult alternative, beer of the month and skinny jeans doesnt make you a hipster. Nor is bern feeling faggots
When the faggy Seattle culture finishes permeating through Tacoma in a few years, I will be leaving the state for good.
Stop acting like you had anything to do with how Hilltop was in the 90's80's
God you're a tryhard faggot some? times
Ash Street shootout: The night that changed Tacoma's Hilltop (Warning - Long)
27 years ago, a tense Hilltop neighborhood erupted in hundreds of gunshots as gangsters fought Army Rangers for control. The shootout gained national attention and brought changes to the neighborhood and the city. ....Ten minutes, 300 shots. Army Rangers versus gangsters. Bullet holes and broken windows. The night of Sept. 23, 1989 turned the Tacoma Hilltop into a national bulls-eye, an emblem of unrest.
Bill Foulk, the retired Ranger who led a group of Army buddies in a defensive stand against the gangsters, still lives in the same house: 2319 S. Ash St.
He wouldn’t leave then, though even his commanders urged him to do so. He isn’t leaving now. At 52, it amuses him to think he’s turned into the old guy on the block.
A few years back, a Tacoma police officer said something to him about the shootout.
“He said it was the single most important incident in Tacoma that caused a change in police policies and practices,” Foulk said.
BLATANT DRUG DEALING
In 1989, Ash Street was an open-air drug market. There were several hot spots, but the epicenter was a little house numbered 2328, where Renae Harttlet, 18, lived with her boyfriend, Mark “Marco” Simmons – the main dog on the street, according to neighbors who remember.
The drug traffic had always been around, but by the summer 1989, it had grown blatant, fueled by an influx of gang members moving in from California and other areas.
“We had this open drug-gang phenomenon that was occurring in Tacoma that we had never experienced before,” said Bob Sheehan, now an assistant police chief, then a sergeant who worked the Hilltop area. “We didn’t know how to respond to it. We were doing our best but we were struggling with it.”
Ash Street neighbors groused to police, called 911 repeatedly, and got nowhere.
One of them was Shirley Luckett, then 33 and a young mother. She lived at 2360.
Luckett was a busybody and a spitfire – the type who took down license plates, took no guff and called police on a regular basis.
“I’m always looking at my surroundings – I like to feel safe,” she said. “My son, he couldn’t ride his bike to the store and wear his red shirt without them gangsters chasing him home. You have a right to live anywhere, peacefully, without that junk and trash spilling over on you.”
.... Police Chief Ray Fjetland pushed the new programs, but old habits were hard to break.
“They used to call it ‘over the hood or over the radio,’ ” said Bob David, 52, a retired Tacoma police officer, and one of the first responders to the Ash Street shooutout. “That’s the way a patrolman handled his day. If it didn’t come over the hood – if the fight didn’t come over the hood of the police car – you could drive away and let it resolve itself. Because that way there’s less violence, less stress, and that’s the way things were done.”
THE GUN FINGER
The day of the barbecue, Foulk and the neighbors got the gun finger.
It came from bystanders across the street, from cars driving by: the index finger pointed, thumb up, a little flip of the hand, mouthed words: boom, boom.
The gangsters saw the video camera in Foulk’s house. They threw stones and rotten pears at it – one of the scruffy trees on the block was laden with September fruit. Someone else took shots at the house with a BB gun.
Foulk and a few Ranger friends walked across the street to confront the harassers.
It was a short talk, marked by a difference of opinion. Foulk asked for Marco Simmons. The gangsters scoffed.
Foulk told them to stop throwing things at his home and the neighbors, to stop shooting BBs, to knock it off.
The gangsters told him to take the camera out of the window.
“Stop doing wrong,” Foulk replied.
Foulk was 32, already a combat veteran, married, a homeowner. The people facing him were children, barely out of their teens – Simmons was 20.
The gangsters suggested Foulk didn’t know who he was dealing with.
Foulk suggested the gangsters didn’t know who they were dealing with.
The gangsters weren’t impressed.
“You’re history, bitch,” Foulk remembers one of them saying.
They would burn his house down and light him up – after dark, they said.
Foulk walked away, cheap chatter trailing in his wake.
“I’m gonna shoot that Army SOB,” he heard someone say.
Things started moving fast. Harttlet remembers Simmons telling her to take the children out of the house, to go down the block to her mother’s.
“It was out of control,” Harttlet said. “It wasn’t right, you know. But at the time, whether you’re right or wrong – people at that time probably didn’t look at it that way.”
DEFENSE
A few Ranger friends were already at the barbecue. Foulk called a few more. The total grew to 15. He told them to bring personal weapons, whatever they had. He called The News Tribune. A reporter, Dan Voelpel, and a photographer, Russ Carmack, soon arrived.
The plan was defensive, he and his buddies agreed. Stake out locations and wait. No first moves. If police come, disarm immediately. Maybe nothing happens. But if it does, keep the gangsters off. No more.
“Our intent was to not allow them to advance on us,” Foulk said.
Foulk ordered the women into the house. Shirley Luckett, who had a gun, was mildly annoyed. She had sent her children to stay with a relative. However the thing went down, she was in.
“I had a nine (a 9-millimeter pistol) in my hand – yes I did, somebody gave me a nine,” she said. “I was gonna fight for my life.”
A car drove by. Someone in it fired a shot into the air.
After sunset, Foulk turned out the lights in the house and the yard. The neighbors waited.
THE SHOOTOUT
The first shots at Foulk’s house came at 9:20 p.m., according to statements from several witnesses. Then things got crazy.
“Shots were heard and seen coming from the west side of the house. Small-caliber automatic gunfire was also heard.”
– Tacoma police report
“All of a sudden I hear a bang from across the street, then it’s boom boom boom,” said Carmack, the TNT photograper. “I’m hunkered down by this piece of wood, among these cars. The bullets were whizzing past, over my head. I’ve never been on the receiving end of the sound before, the zinging.”
William Edwards, one of the Rangers, was posted on the front porch. When the shooting started, he hit the ground. A bullet slammed into the wall beside him.
He and other Rangers returned fire, seeing figures running among parked cars on the other side of the street.
A new fusillade of shots came from the opposite side of the house. Ranger Russell Nolte, posted in the backyard, crawled forward – a shot hit the front of the house, three feet over his head.
Ranger Burr Settles was upstairs by the hated video camera. A shot came through the window, and a shower of shattered glass grazed his head.
“Numerous muzzle flashes/shots began coming in from the east. There were at least three different shooters.”
Great song to mob to in Mom's minivan while heading to the frosh-soph GALA.
We stole cars to get to the dance, did a drive by or two on the way, and then got wasted and crashed them. Then did coke to numb the pain and ran from the cops while boning STD ridden sluts in the ass as we dropped acid.
Great song to mob to in Mom's minivan while heading to the frosh-soph GALA.
We stole cars to get to the dance, did a drive by or two on the way, and then got wasted and crashed them. Then did coke to numb the pain and ran from the cops while boning STD ridden sluts in the ass as we dropped acid.
Great song to mob to in Mom's minivan while heading to the frosh-soph GALA.
We stole cars to get to the dance, did a drive by or two on the way, and then got wasted and crashed them. Then did coke to numb the pain and ran from the cops while boning STD ridden sluts in the ass as we dropped acid.
You know how I know you've never boned sluts while on coke?
Great song to mob to in Mom's minivan while heading to the frosh-soph GALA.
We stole cars to get to the dance, did a drive by or two on the way, and then got wasted and crashed them. Then did coke to numb the pain and ran from the cops while boning STD ridden sluts in the ass as we dropped acid.
You know how I know you've never boned sluts while on coke?
Comments
Craft cocktails, male fashion and single origin coffee beans are here to stay.
Stop acting like you had anything to do with how Hilltop was in the 90's
God you're a tryhard faggot some? times
Gavin Mcinnes is a hipster, not a real man like pup, but a guy with real style, and real politics.. These seattle "hipsters" are the worse kind of posers. Its embarrassing to watch. A little X once in a blue moon and trendy adult alternative, beer of the month and skinny jeans doesnt make you a hipster. Nor is bern feeling faggots
Ash Street shootout: The night that changed Tacoma's Hilltop (Warning - Long)
27 years ago, a tense Hilltop neighborhood erupted in hundreds of gunshots as gangsters fought Army Rangers for control. The shootout gained national attention and brought changes to the neighborhood and the city.
....Ten minutes, 300 shots. Army Rangers versus gangsters. Bullet holes and broken windows. The night of Sept. 23, 1989 turned the Tacoma Hilltop into a national bulls-eye, an emblem of unrest.
Bill Foulk, the retired Ranger who led a group of Army buddies in a defensive stand against the gangsters, still lives in the same house: 2319 S. Ash St.
He wouldn’t leave then, though even his commanders urged him to do so. He isn’t leaving now. At 52, it amuses him to think he’s turned into the old guy on the block.
A few years back, a Tacoma police officer said something to him about the shootout.
“He said it was the single most important incident in Tacoma that caused a change in police policies and practices,” Foulk said.
BLATANT DRUG DEALING
In 1989, Ash Street was an open-air drug market. There were several hot spots, but the epicenter was a little house numbered 2328, where Renae Harttlet, 18, lived with her boyfriend, Mark “Marco” Simmons – the main dog on the street, according to neighbors who remember.
The drug traffic had always been around, but by the summer 1989, it had grown blatant, fueled by an influx of gang members moving in from California and other areas.
“We had this open drug-gang phenomenon that was occurring in Tacoma that we had never experienced before,” said Bob Sheehan, now an assistant police chief, then a sergeant who worked the Hilltop area. “We didn’t know how to respond to it. We were doing our best but we were struggling with it.”
Ash Street neighbors groused to police, called 911 repeatedly, and got nowhere.
One of them was Shirley Luckett, then 33 and a young mother. She lived at 2360.
Luckett was a busybody and a spitfire – the type who took down license plates, took no guff and called police on a regular basis.
“I’m always looking at my surroundings – I like to feel safe,” she said. “My son, he couldn’t ride his bike to the store and wear his red shirt without them gangsters chasing him home. You have a right to live anywhere, peacefully, without that junk and trash spilling over on you.”
....
Police Chief Ray Fjetland pushed the new programs, but old habits were hard to break.
“They used to call it ‘over the hood or over the radio,’ ” said Bob David, 52, a retired Tacoma police officer, and one of the first responders to the Ash Street shooutout. “That’s the way a patrolman handled his day. If it didn’t come over the hood – if the fight didn’t come over the hood of the police car – you could drive away and let it resolve itself. Because that way there’s less violence, less stress, and that’s the way things were done.”
THE GUN FINGER
The day of the barbecue, Foulk and the neighbors got the gun finger.
It came from bystanders across the street, from cars driving by: the index finger pointed, thumb up, a little flip of the hand, mouthed words: boom, boom.
The gangsters saw the video camera in Foulk’s house. They threw stones and rotten pears at it – one of the scruffy trees on the block was laden with September fruit. Someone else took shots at the house with a BB gun.
Foulk and a few Ranger friends walked across the street to confront the harassers.
It was a short talk, marked by a difference of opinion. Foulk asked for Marco Simmons. The gangsters scoffed.
Foulk told them to stop throwing things at his home and the neighbors, to stop shooting BBs, to knock it off.
The gangsters told him to take the camera out of the window.
“Stop doing wrong,” Foulk replied.
Foulk was 32, already a combat veteran, married, a homeowner. The people facing him were children, barely out of their teens – Simmons was 20.
The gangsters suggested Foulk didn’t know who he was dealing with.
Foulk suggested the gangsters didn’t know who they were dealing with.
The gangsters weren’t impressed.
“You’re history, bitch,” Foulk remembers one of them saying.
They would burn his house down and light him up – after dark, they said.
Foulk walked away, cheap chatter trailing in his wake.
“I’m gonna shoot that Army SOB,” he heard someone say.
Things started moving fast. Harttlet remembers Simmons telling her to take the children out of the house, to go down the block to her mother’s.
“It was out of control,” Harttlet said. “It wasn’t right, you know. But at the time, whether you’re right or wrong – people at that time probably didn’t look at it that way.”
DEFENSE
A few Ranger friends were already at the barbecue. Foulk called a few more. The total grew to 15. He told them to bring personal weapons, whatever they had. He called The News Tribune. A reporter, Dan Voelpel, and a photographer, Russ Carmack, soon arrived.
The plan was defensive, he and his buddies agreed. Stake out locations and wait. No first moves. If police come, disarm immediately. Maybe nothing happens. But if it does, keep the gangsters off. No more.
“Our intent was to not allow them to advance on us,” Foulk said.
Foulk ordered the women into the house. Shirley Luckett, who had a gun, was mildly annoyed. She had sent her children to stay with a relative. However the thing went down, she was in.
“I had a nine (a 9-millimeter pistol) in my hand – yes I did, somebody gave me a nine,” she said. “I was gonna fight for my life.”
A car drove by. Someone in it fired a shot into the air.
After sunset, Foulk turned out the lights in the house and the yard. The neighbors waited.
THE SHOOTOUT
The first shots at Foulk’s house came at 9:20 p.m., according to statements from several witnesses. Then things got crazy.
“Shots were heard and seen coming from the west side of the house. Small-caliber automatic gunfire was also heard.”
– Tacoma police report
“All of a sudden I hear a bang from across the street, then it’s boom boom boom,” said Carmack, the TNT photograper. “I’m hunkered down by this piece of wood, among these cars. The bullets were whizzing past, over my head. I’ve never been on the receiving end of the sound before, the zinging.”
William Edwards, one of the Rangers, was posted on the front porch. When the shooting started, he hit the ground. A bullet slammed into the wall beside him.
He and other Rangers returned fire, seeing figures running among parked cars on the other side of the street.
A new fusillade of shots came from the opposite side of the house. Ranger Russell Nolte, posted in the backyard, crawled forward – a shot hit the front of the house, three feet over his head.
Ranger Burr Settles was upstairs by the hated video camera. A shot came through the window, and a shower of shattered glass grazed his head.
“Numerous muzzle flashes/shots began coming in from the east. There were at least three different shooters.”
Still waiting on @theciscoshow
#pussy
Lmfao
72nd st 711 at 1 am tomorrow
Schurrrrr
Oh so now we getting real technical up in this bich cuh?