Along with lovers, muggers, and thieves

I'm gonna tell you a story
I'm gonna tell you about my town
I'm gonna tell you a big bad story, baby
Aww, it's all about my town

Well… mebbe not my town. Mebbe more about lovers, muggers and thieves.. Bless the lovers. They are a plenty. Seen another couple last night… been eyeballin’ ‘em for some time. I hate (love) ‘em… They can’t look at each other without smiling. I hate (love) that. It’s a choice. She’s a lawyer (who DONATES hella time to assisting children in court)…. He’s in some kinda food equipment sales/maintenance.. That don’t matter. Could be unemployed, business owners, city workers, you name it. They “get” life. It’s all about looking out with them eyeballs and then the chain of events that send those images to one’s brain - down to the mouth - and a choice is made. They choose smiling.

“I love this guy” she said after I’d complimented them on their obvious happiness. “When he comes home from work I’m like ‘take me, just take me now.’” Dayum. “We’ve known each other since kindergarten - and we’ll leave this planet together.” Yeeee Hiiiii.. Blessed, they be blessed. But they choose blessed.

Yeah, down by the river
Down by the banks of the river Charles (aw, that's what's happenin' baby)
That's where you'll find me
Along with lovers, muggers, and thieves (aw, but they're cool people)

Well, the lovers are - but no so much the muggers (fuggers) and thieves. The muggers are those guys who control the oil - pretty much produce, don’t produce as they want, and build bigger castles every time the price of a barrel goes up a dollar, or ten - and stack the cash up unner their turbans.. We needta find a way outta this. Be it an alternative source, remarkable technology breakthrough, or hell, mebbe even making Saudi our 51st state. Muggers, the fuggers are muggers. I sit in a cubicle all day and, on behalf of my company, try to find the least expensive way to move crap from inland, to Ocean Ports. Independent truckers are expected to fill up, drive 3000 miles, and then mebbe get paid in sixty days. Uh huh, sure. So bread, milk, produce all go up - business’s don’t have as much business, jobs are lost…. And the vast majority tread water just making it to “YES, I paid all my bills, let’s see if I can make it to payday.” Muggers, fuggers are muggers.

Thieves. Cash advance places, title loan places, household finance places, mortgage companies, even banks. (VICTOR! You've been emailing back and forth with a lady who RUNS a bank, HOW DARE YOU!... sorry, jes' my take, ain't nuttin' personal).. The po just haveta pay mo. “I ain’t treadin’ so good, can I borrie fitty?” Sure, pay me $80 in two weeks, k? “I didn’t keep a journal, my bad, but $173 in overdraft charges for $37 in debit card expenditures?” Yes, that’s our rules, sorry. But we’ve got doggy biscuits, here Rover. “Sorry, my child was sick - our car shot craps and I was two days late on my mortgage. “It’s ok, we’re sympathetic to that, just add $43 to your payment next time.”

Well I love that dirty water.

Life’s a roller coaster and the price of a ticket to ride justa keeps on climbin’. The middle class keeps on’a shrinkin’, and we’re gettin’ bottom heavy. Fuggers.. Muggers and thieves.

VICTOR! STOP! This is depressing shit!.. K, will. I love that dirty water.

It’s an admitted rough time in our country now. We’ve been there, we’ll get thru it. We started by finally learning how to all get along, resident Indians and newcomers. We learned howinthehell to forge that river westward. We figured out the right way to govern. We hid money in mattress’s after Wall Street crashed. Fuggers. Muggers. We gotta New Deal. Even after we were bombed unemployment went from 14% to 2%. Races gained equality. We made it thru the Cold War. Women gained rights. Bra’s were burned. Sit ins happened. Just say no. We’ve survived droughts, hurricanes, tornados, floods, fires, health crisis’s, you name it, we’ll make it. We conjured up “why?” and “no… huh uh, I ain’t.” We’re survivors.

Well I love that dirty water.

We hand down “yes, sometimes it’s rough shit, but we’ll make it.”

Tweren’t my intent to sit here and “bitch and moan” about muggers and thieves. I love that dirty water, I really do. Someone very nicely wrote in something to the effect of “Victor, I hope your week gets better.” NO, NO, NO, NO! (But TYVM!).. My week is GOOD! I’m’a hopin’ what’s interpreted here is that the words on these pages are what happens when the eyeballs look out, it’s transferred to the brain (then to the mouth) and finally the fingers. Yes, sometimes the fingers get poopy. But trust me, I’ma lover. The fingers just get in the way of what's really important. The thoughts sent down to the mouth allow me to almost always smile. I love this dirty water.

If you… you love this dirty water.. If you… you look out at life and when it comes back thru you it transforms into a smile (inspitea the muggers and thieves and past historical crisis’s..).. If you… you have that “When he comes home from work I’m like ‘take me, just take me now.’” Call me. 867-5309. We’ll be lovers of life together.

“Yes, sometimes it’s rough shit, but we’ll make it.”

I love that dirty water (I'm the man, I'm the man)
I love that dirty water (Owww!)
I love that dirty water (Come on, come on)

Peace out. Love, Victurd.