Saturday, January 28, 2017
We loose. No doubt. The Closed Minded, Racist, win. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. My kind should have been extinct by now. One really has to wonder how we got this far. I've never been good at making money. Shit, when I was twenty-five I was the victim of a car accident and didn't sue. I remember when the at-fault driver's mom called me. I could tell in her voice she knew she had a sucker leaving money on the table. "I'm glad to be alive," I said. And I was, for during the car accident as my beat-up VW Bug was ramming the car that had run the red light (by the Police Officer's Report), I felt an Angel grab me from behind my shoulders and whisper: "It's going to be alright."
When I woke up from the totaled-out car accident, I was laid-out on the ground a few feet from the car not knowing how I got out alive. It was all surreal and somehow my fault, I was sure.
I refused the ambulance and had the police drop me off at the hospital (they did things like that back in 1984).
Anyway, I never sued. And of course, I never got ahead in life either.
I won't bore you with all the details, but, I'm a passive, non-aggressive guy. Over the years I've had business partners screw me on film deals where they found a way to justify not giving me my share of the profits. You know, distribution cost or who knows what. Most recently, I found out for the last ten years I've been paying for the common-area electricity for my condos due to a wiring mishap.
"That's okay," I said, "Just fix it."
I guess I'm just lazy.
Anyway, I wrote a poem for Donald Trump. Here it goes:
Donald Trump is a chump.
He has a big-fat rump.
Every time he turns around.
We all get dumped,
Sensor that Steven Bannon.