Hard work is for losers

 

You know things are bad when the local bank rips off people more than I do.

Not to mention the phone company, credit card company and health insurance.

How can a man like me make a dishonest living when the honest guys are more dishonest than I am?

Okay, so I know nobody gets rich from hard work any more, but this is ridiculous.

Everybody’s getting into my game, edging me out.

It used to be I could make a good buck by selling dope to kids, now the doctors prescribe kids more crap than I could ever get away with.

Banks might not break your legs for not paying your loan off on time the way I might, but they take your house – and the interest rates credit card companies charge make my rates look honest.

In the old days, I used to go around to local businesses and sell them a little insurance – this meant that we wouldn’t mess with their customers or beat them up after hours. But they got something for their money, unlike the honest creeps that sell insurance these days. A bank hold up is more honest than what they do to hospitals.

Okay, the  truth is most of us don’t want to work hard if we can find any other way to make our living.

Most rich makes their money by letting their money make it for them, while they sit back on their fat asses and smoke cigars.

I’ve always wanted to do the same thing and I don’t even like cigars.

I’m not even in this game for the money, except how it makes me feel.

I like feeling better than other people. I hate waiting on line to get what I want, pushing and shoving and getting pushed and shoved back.

I like the idea that I can pretty much get any women I want.

The problem is everybody’s trying to do that and we’re running out of suckers to get ahead of on line.

I know what it’s like to be a sucker. I grew up in a Polish neighborhood in Passaic, one of those places where family drags  the rest of the family out of the old country so all of us can work like asses in local sweat shops while stuffing cash in banks so the bankers can smoke cigars.

I made up my mind early one I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life like that, a white wage worker forking over half my weekly wages on lottery tickets on the false hope I can get rich quick.

While I still go to Atlantic City from time to time I know I’m only making the casinos rich.

Maybe in another life, I would have become one of those Wall Street whiz kids. They got a better handle on things, rolling the dice on the stock market so they can live high and pretend they actually made it, overpaid clerks, who won’t pay a man for an honest day’s labor fixing their toilet, but will blow a bundle on some fancy toy they don’t need.

Of all the crooks these days, the wall street hoods make the most sense to me because they want what I want.

That’s why when I come to collect from them, I don’t always go as far as I could.

I don’t break their legs the way I might any other dead beat, I just mess up their faces a little.

Not like I do with bankers, insurance brokers, doctors and rest. For them I show no mercy. After all, they’re the competition.