I grew up broke as shit, in the poorest county in my state. I've gone to school with duct tape holding the soles on my shoes and my glasses taped together. I was working for other people at 8-9 years old, working on the farm, working on other farms when I was 12, and started traveling in summers throwing iron and tires for an auto salvage company and have paid taxes every year since I was 14. My dad had as many as 3 jobs outside of our farm. I worked construction and odd jobs that would make most others puke to get through college and spent the first year after sleeping on a blow up mattress.


Want to know why I'm not poor now?

I guarantee you I could start today in a new city, with $500 and no job, and by the end of the week have work. By the end of the year, I won't be poor. It's because I'm not a lazy douche-bag with twisted priorities.


My area has plenty of people who are perfectly happy to sponge off of working Americans.
I'll never have respect for the lazy. I've been in the shoes of the poor, and I know what I had to do to wear the ones I have now, which are much more comfortable.

I've earned the right to have the opinion I do. I don't give a rats ass if you think so and I feel perfectly informed to hold the opinions I have.

Heh why flash mob when you can flash rob!

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No way. Poor is like a terminal disease and nothing can be done about it except sit there and take it.

Update.

Ironically enough, the same people who were unable to assist me unloading a single box from their uhaul....have hauled a dump truck load of junk from their house to the curb each of the last 3 weeks, including one today....and one of the helpless bullfrog twins is manning a hedge trimmer as I type.

Also interesting of note, I've yet to get a wave, nod or look in the eye since I stopped mowing their yard.(another sucker is taking care of that now.

:clap:

Tough Love works!

Teach a man to fish......

Continued.

So, I haven't heard from the above mentioned people since the above incident. Since then, the daughter has sat on a chair in the yard behind the old man, who must pray nightly for a quick death in his sleep, doing everything short of beating him with a cane as he works. They've hauled loads and loads of crap out, cut the bushes and briars out and in general having the place looking better than I'd guess it has in years.

So, the end of last week, I have a message on the answering machine(always introducing themselves by name, where they live and location to my home, because I'd never remember that by now).....furnace is being repaired and not working and could I bring them a heater so they won't get cold.

My first instinct is "seriously?" and then the voice on my shoulder says You can't let that old shit freeze. I've got an older electric heater I'm not using, so I take it over and say "I don't need it any longer, just keep it and use it in emergencies"....and am thanked kindly.

The next night, I get home and brideowanian is laughing in the kitchen, encouraging me to join her. She's not laughing because it's funny, she's laughing at my pending reaction to the 2 messages on the answering machine.

In short "this is your neighbor, gilbert grape's mama, wife of Mr praysfordeath, across the street. I used your heater last night and it was smelling the house up and made me so sick and I almost puked and it stunk and ......................................................................................2 minutes...................more words...and I know you said it was a gift but we don't want it and don't want to pay for getting rid of it so it's on the porch and you need to come and get it. click.

Message 2.
Hi, this is gilbert grape's mama and I called an hour ago and you still haven't come to get your heater....I tried to use it but it smoked and stunk up the house and made me so sick...I was coughing and can't breath and almost barfed and .......4 minute rant.....more words and words......and you need to come and get it............silence.....and we thank you and appreciate you tried to help.....but it made me so sick and I'm feeling terrible........but thanks.....but it made me sick, come and get it. click.


I walked over and got it, plugged it in the garage to see.....the dust was burning off of the coils. That's it.


I'll learn someday. I don't know how mr Praysfordeath will survive the winter locked up with that herd of fat, mean, nagging hens without impaling himself on a butter knife. I feel sorry for the old sonnabitch, I don't think he's ungreatful, I think he's just beaten to the ground by that mean old sow.