Final re-post

Re-Posted from October 16th, 2010

The money rant

The long awaited, much debated, overly-emphasized, hair pulling, teeth gnashing, dinner plate throwing, toenail ripping, cuticle chewing, knuckle breaking, finger bleeding rant upon which my accountability is weighed against what I am already accountable for.

This morning started great. slept in. Read a couple chapters. got out of bed. Lazed around the apartment for half an hour. Decided it was time to start my day. First stop, bank. Not very different from a typical weekday, in fact, the only thing that really makes today any different from a Monday through Friday day is that the farmers market is open and I happen to have a small amount of money in my checking account; just enough to take about twenty dollars down to the farmers market and fill up my pantry with fresh vegetables and legumes and fruits and all sorts of goodness from the soil. I'm excited. I'm giddy. If I were a dog, my tail would have been wagging.
however, as any informed blog reader would do, you've already perused my profile and noticed I am unemployed. You would ask yourself, as an informed reader, "Where does this person get their money, if he or she is unemployed?", ergo, "Do tell, dear brother, from whence your farmers market bounty doth inspire?", therefore, "Yo, this cracker ain't got no bread, he's just a poor honkey in the ghetto spending some of grannies dough, ya'll", to which the banker replied, "It is not our problem that you do not have an income. you owe us money. Any time there is money in your account, they will take what money is owed to them. what would you have us do?"
So, dear improbable and imaginary reader, I implore you. How does a thirty-five year old, with no job, no friends of vastly significant wealth, (see professional sports figure salaries), come up with money? My parents. My own mother. not so demeaning as working for someone you disagree with, going home to your beautiful wife, loving children, warm house, working car, quiver of bicycles and warm slippers for your toes, I have the ignominy of begging, panhandling to may own parents, who worked all of their lives to raise responsible, loving, strong and capable children, being given enough to pay immediate necessities, waking up in the morning and finding the bank has taken all of it. For debt. This is about eighteen months ago. Since then, I've had one job, and was laid off about a year ago.
This trend, this description, this instance happened just this morning, but in truth, the most difficult part of being lied to is finding the one grain of truth in the lie that makes it believable. This is my grain of truth. the straw that breaks the camel's back. This has been my carcinogenic, malignant, metastatic, day to day repetitious agitation.