Saturday, July 23, 2011

Crime pays. Crime pays very, very well.

I'm standing in line at Jewel today behind three thugged out black guys who absolutely reek of weed.  Honestly, they must have just finished rolling around in piles of weed, because that's the only thing you could smell within like a ten foot radius of these guys. 

To pay, the lead guy pulls out of his pocket what must have been, conservatively, $10k in hundred dollar bills.  It wasn't like he just had a show hundred wrapped around a wad of ones.  He seriously stood there flipping through about an inch of hundreds before he was even able to find a fifty with which to pay the cashier.

That was hands down the best marketing I've ever seen for a job.  Yeah, it was cool in elementary school when Bobby's dad was a fireman and let us climb on the firetruck for career day.  However, now that I'm older, I can't help but be impressed by the guy who can't walk straight because he has the down payment for a fucking house his pocket. 

I don't know about you, but I'm seriously considering a career change.


  1. Shit, where do I sign up? Count me IN.

  2. Yeah, I know what you mean. I already have my stripper name picked out.