A life spent in the pursuit and accumulation of wealth is no life at all... yes i know that's the statement of a man sitting in some suburban enclave as he ponders his navel... or is it? While i don't know much i do know that i've made and blown more money than the average bear, no not like the robber barons of past and present but like a hood famous hoodlum who had no problem dropping north of a grand in bar and that was before the tip... and i was a great fucking tipper. I know that i've lived some of my happiest days living hand to mouth while living some of the worst with more money than i knew what to do with, so yes, the maxim is true, money does not buy happiness and while i'm sure the prevailing thought in the land of milk and honey is that it sure does make things a lot easier i'll point to the divorce rate among the affluent and thereabouts.
You see that first sentence was made to a financial type person the other day as i told her that i needed to cash out some of Pops' investment funds, yes the financial types hate when you take the money, they want you to save for a retirement that in my case will never come. Once the nest is empty and the occupants remaining realize they aren't really that fond of each other i will be back on the Jack Jones and divorce being the quickest way to poverty for the non-earner i suspect it won't be long until i'm surviving by my wit and charm once again. Or maybe one would call it resourcefulness but really i'm not all that concerned or worried about it. Que sera sera my friends.
And what was the seed for this little moment of clarity, the impetus for this diatribe? It was the usual financial squabbling between house mates over how to pay for certain things when those things can be easily paid for under the current conditions. But that would be wrong, there was no squabbling on my end just another shrug, of course one of the reasons for this trip to the bank was the never ending expense of my lovely teeth and after cracking and losing another crown, a crown i didn't replace when it cracked originally due to the moaning and wailing every time i need one replaced by a certain someone. One of the first things said by the Breadwinner when Pops' estate began to get settled was a gleeful comment on how she'd never have to pay for my teeth again. Yes all those years where i provided high end insurance (thank you Big World Bank Machine) all those years when the weed money flowed like wine and bought and paid for most everything mean nothing now that the script has been flipped. These expenses will be taken out of "my money" though i've never said it was mine. In fact i freely put it into the household without batting an eye. Some of course will go to pay the boyos to play for the oldest football club in America because somehow that is less important than a dining room table. Yes apparently my priorities are fucked up. It's a rigged game and i'll most likely come out on the short end in some respects but in the one that matters most i'll be just fine.