New York City 1948


2:29 a.m.-2003-07-23

mad nickles

Black and white framed photographic poster. Blue blood leaning on his Rolls, champaign flute dangling from his fingers, decked out in fox hunt gear. In bold type "Poverty sucks".

The kids who lived three houses from me back in the day had that up in their sun room. It was meant to be ironic, like if Rush Limbaugh was to wear a t-shirt that said "Chicks dig me". The kid's father was an ex Haight Ashbury hippie, runs an environmental clean up company, Mondale/Ferraro bumper sticker weathered on his fuel efficient Honda, sandals and full jesus beard wearing in tight assed St. Louis, left wing reformed liberal church going intelligencia lunatic. All around he was fairly dope.

To him that poster represented his anathema and the finest wry joke ever constructed by man.

To me, I just fucking agree with it. Poverty sucks the dried sweat off a dead elephant's posing pouch. Damn poster has been dancing little ale house jigs around the head floaters that I converse with when I zone the world out.

If someone told me when I was a teenager that I'd be working in a job that did not require me to strangle myself slowly to death with a tie everyday, and make ( undisclosed figure ), and still tread the broke ass water mark, I would have thrown my own feces at their head. I leave the figure undisclosed cause revealing income in a public forum is just stupid. Let's just say I shouldn't have to rummage around a loose change pile to wrangle up enough loot to eat. I don't wear t-shirts with holes in them cause I'm a hip rebel. I wear them cause no other options in the clean spanky wardrobe department exist.

If the whole holes in the t-shirt rugged man thing works for you, book a flight to NYC immediately so I can bone your mouth as soon as possible. This offer applies to chicks with cute feet only.

The concept alone of money is an idea I find distasteful. I don't even like money. I hate that I need to be more carnivorous than the other predators just to get by. I'd rather just wipe my ass with money except it's not really made out of a material condusive to happy hemorrhoids. An intentional design I believe. Otherwise banks would be filled with poopy greenbacks.

They say money doesn't make one happy. Then make me miserable godsuckit. Douchebag theys.

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