Walking down the rain soaked hollywood blvd., I can't help but become sinicle towards the thought of the american dream. Strolling past countless tattoo shops, stores selling an endless assortment of hollywood doo-dads, and window displays featuring stiff strippers dressed in their saturday night best, waiting to pleasure and entice any number of men who might show up, but never do.
Constantly being asked for a quarter. A quarter? Would you still ask me for a quarter if you knew I had only a couple dollars and some change in my pocket, you fucking leech? You probably would. Some people think they are entitled to assistance simply because they need it. What about the ones of us who want to work for theirs?
Was it only a year or so ago that we were all consuming at an all time high, brazingly spending money that we didn't have, thinking the ride would never end.
And now I find myself standing at the crosswalk waiting for the little man to tell me its safe, praying the blond driving her brand new suv will lose control as she is switching to the next bumble gum pop song on her i pod, swerve on the oil slicked, rain covered road, and replace her mercedes emblem with my teeth...
But that's not right. Isn't that just like the kid asking me for a quarter? Looking for an easy way out. Besides, I'll probably just get knocked into a coma, and wake up to medical bills that would make the national deficit look like a weekend loss at vegas.
Besides, it'll all be over soon right? And we'll all be a little wiser because of it? I hope so... I really would like to take me wife out to a nice dinner.