In the early part of the millennium, I like many young people barely out of high school, found what I thought was a decent job. The job paid shit money, something like $6.00 miserly dollars an hour. I was hoping to gain some experience and then advance to better jobs. At this time, the economy was booming and that dot com crash didn’t seem that serious. Despite, my years of book worming, I didn’t understand the complexities of our economic system yet (that, I came to understand a bit too late).

Most young people who land a full time acquire two mandatory and important accessories: a car and a cell phone. At that age, (16 to 19, well 34 for Paris Hilton), people are carefree (unless, the kids ended up preggers at 16, then you’re fucked). The last things on their minds are savings accounts, 401Ks, life insurances, etc. If you’re not covered by your parent’s insurances, it’s not the end of the world. Bad news, calamity and hardships are the last thing on your mind. Since I wanted to rid myself of my rolling and thundering 85′ Chrysler LeBaron, I really needed to improve my non-existent credit history. Much to my surprise Providian gave me a card worth $1000.00. In retrospect, it seems unreal that someone earning $6.00 per hour could get such a high amount. Later, I was offered an additional $1000.00. Due to several family issues, I had to take use a large portion of this capital. At this point I lost my job and only source of income. I didn’t find another job after 4 months. By this point, my credit had been ruined. I managed to repay Providian their money and not take out anymore cards until I had a safe, secure job that paid real money. Later, I took out and canceled various cards, many of whom initially offered much less than Providian. Currently, I get letters from different banks and financial institutions that offer credit. With the recession, these companies seem frightened to offer too much credit. Despite the bailout and their free market doctrines, their holding the money ass tight. When reading the fine print from these companies I really have to laugh.

First Premier Bank offers me credit; they don’t tell me how much exactly, only that the minimum credit limit is $250. If I accept and signed the confirmation paper, I’ll find out how much credit I would receive. The letter does a good job of describing the different charges incurred if I accept. There’s a program fee for $95.00 for extending credit. Then there’s an account setup fee of $29.00, followed by an annual $48.00 fee. There’s also a monthly service fee of $7.00 and if you want to obtain an additional card there’s a $20.00 fee. Add this all up and you only have $51.00 left in credit and you haven’t fucking even bought anything!! Don’t forget that the monthly fee will eat up what’s left in the account in a little more than six months. The folks at First Premier Bank are smoking some powerful crack cocaine if they think people are actually going to accept that stinking offer. Normally, I just throw away these credit offers, but this time I decided to read just in case they had a good offer…..wishful thinking, of course.

With all assurance, we can say that McDonalds and other fast foods are not the typical American food. But their food brand is heavily consumed. Even those of us who avoid McDs like the plague have eaten there atleast once during the last 2 months, even when we know it’s lousy and unhealthy. And why? Well, simply because of convenience. If you only have half an hour for lunch (and you didn’t spend part of your break sitting on the toilet doing number 2), you need your food to be prepared QUICK. Most cafeterias have great ambiance, friendly waiters and decent food. I’m OK with them, I don’t mind tipping. But I’ll be there eating for a longer time than my allotted luch break and of course, I don’t want to give my boss the pleasure of reducing my wage because I clocked in a few minutes late from lunch.

Well, fast food is called fast food for a reason. It’s the closest thing we have to a automated production line in a post-industrial world. You go in, you buy, you go out, you eat, you’re filled. Since we Americans are always in a hurry, fast food companies can rest assured that they’ll have a market for their produce. As long as we don’t eat their shit more than twice a week, we won’t have a coronary (just a bit of diarrhea, that’s all). Each fast food company has it’s market segment safe.

Lately, I have noticed that fast food companies are starting to attack each other’s market. McDonalds has suddenly created McCoffee, clearly invading Starbucks’ territory. My theory is that McDs wants some of the yuppie-hipster coolness associated with the Seattle-based latte maker to rub on it. McDonald’s new Angus beef hambruger are actually tasty and non-poisonous. They are obviously trying to knock out Burger King’s market segment.

Finally, I’m also curious as to when McDonalds will bring back Ronald McDonald. When I was a kid, back in the 1980s, good ‘ol Ronald was everywhere. Now he’s totally MIA. Does it have something to do with the fact that he’s a man wearing makeup, a wig, high boots and is friendly to kids……..Did the Conservative Christians banish Ronald McDonald??…..No fucking way!

Now, I must ask, are Laura’s parents (well, her dad) the coolest ever are they are on LSD? If you are willing to let your prebuscent kid go sailing around the World, you either really want to get rid of her and have the house all to yourself in order to host orgies every week, or you’re terrified of little Laura reaching puberty and coming home preggers or hooking up with a wanna be rockstar. Maybe it’s better if little Laura is out there in the ocean sailing instead of Amsterdam. Remember, those Dutch are extremely liberal and maybe dad is an old-fashioned kind of guy. What dangers are there in the ocean?

Well dad, you obviously never saw The Ice Storm, or those National Geographic documentaries about great white sharks. Dad seems to forget that there are pirates close to the shore of Ethiopia more than willing to kidnap little Laura if a generous reward is at hand (unless dad IS planning of getting rid of her). I’ve heard that people that spend ridiculous amounts of time at sea end up crazy and suicidal. Why not just send her to boarding school. What if the poor girl gets bored and wants to call her friends. Does she even have internet access out there?

It’s pretty obvious that these folks are rather wealthy. Who else buys their kids sailboats and teaches them how to sail when they’re kids? Psychotic rich folks, that’s who. When I was thirteen, my dad wouldn’t teach me how to drive. I resented this a bit and wondered why couldn’t my parents be cool. Of course, if I had kids now, I’d be insane to let them drive at thirteen (of course, I knew jackass kids in middle school who claimed to know how to drive since age 10, yeah right). Now, let them sail around the World? Gimme a break! Does having so much money bore people and then they try to find new and odd ways to entertain themselves by challenging nature? Haven’t you noticed how many eccentric millionaire’s end up dead by trying to do something heroically stupid? Does the money make them believe they’re invincible?

What bugs me is that I didn’t even know about Cash for Clunkers up until a few days before the initial expiration date. Luckily, it was extended. I heard of it while listening to National Public Radio (I admit, I must watch more TV). The mainstream media should have mentioned it more often like they do with all stupid celebrity divorces that no one really gives a fuck about. Unfortunately, neither me nor my parents were able to get rid of our clunkers. If I get the job I’m looking for, I’ll buy myself a Camaro and I’ll electro-modify it.

As I’m contentedly strollling back to my car, I noticed a large amount of broken glass around the floor. I’m thinking “damn, someone’s car got hit”. And what glorious surprise I have when I see that smashed car happens to be my 96′ Isuzu Rodeo. My first instinct is to curse all hell through and throw a few punches in the air. The car’s back window is completely smashed and the back door has been bent in the middle. The car’s front wheels have been pushed over the parking bump. I’m wondering how hard it got hit.

I look inside the car and notice that nothing has been stolen. I’m figuring that it might have been a hit and run, and as usual, no one saw anything. I call the police to report what happened. I’m connected to a Sergeant to whom I give the information whilst cursing profusely (get your car crashed, greta excuse to bitch out a cop). A few seconds later, I receive a call from the FIU campus police. Somehow, the culprit didn’t run but decided to report the crash. Said culprit is in the police office. The officer notices my anger and repeatedly tells me that it was an accident, accident happens (so does cancer).

I walk to the office expecting to see some idiot frat-boy wanna-be or some coked out idiot (I mean who’s high already at 11:00 AM?). What a surprise when the culprit turns out to be a young Latin girl, like 20 or 21. And she’s kinda hot. Somehow, she was going to press her brakes, but instead she stepped on the accelerator and voooomm!! I didn’t exchange words with the driving-challenged hottie. When I got there, she was nervous and crying. Since I was so angry, I didn’t think of trying to ask for a date (you crashed the shit out of my car, btw, are you free Saturday?). Besides, I was already seeing someone.

The police officer’s report stated that the girl was at fault. Luckily, she had AllState as her insurance and they covered all my damages and gave me a rental car while mine was in the shop. I didn’t have to pay a dime. The body shop people even washed it and made it look llike new. In regards to the hot chick, maybe I’ll look her up on Facebook…

That would’ve really sucked…..

After towing the car to my trustworthy mechanic in Hialeah (yes, such thing does exist), it turns out that the car needed a new alernator. It might have been damaged by water during the heavy rains South Florida experiences in the summer. It doesn’t help that the alternator is located more than a feet lower than the battery is. The following day, I took the battery to a local Autozone store for a recharging. According to the store guy, the battery almost exploded and started leaking. I checked the battery and noticed that the manufacturing date was 2005, which means it was pretty old. Miraculously, the battery was not made in China, but in Ohio. Long live American industrialism.

Two days later, a central rotator which moves all the belt broke off. In the process, the alternator belt which was also old, snapped. My mechanic told me the rotator’s exact name in Spanish (it’s Hialeah), which I have no clue how to translate. Supposedly, these artifacts fall off due to old age. Don’t forget that my car is 96′ model. After everything, the total cost for parts and repairs was around $400.

Mind you, in the three years that I’ve had the Isuzu, the only big repair it had done was changing the time belt and the usual oil changes and tune-ups. Likewise, I consistently check water and oils; plus I don’t race on the highway. As a matter of fact I prefer driving between 40-50 mph. If I’m driving at night, I don’t turn on the A/C. Personally, I wouldn’t mind taking public transportation if it fits with my schedule. Unfortunately, Miami’s public transit sytem is mostly a joke, especially if you live in areas like Kendall or Hialeah. Last but not least, I hping to learn a few things from a cousin who just got his mechanic’s certificate, so I can repair stuff on my own in the future.

Sadly, over the years, news of Michael’s eccentricities and odd behavior became common. His scandals were maximized, while his talent was under appreciated. Today, many believe that we never knew the real Michael behind the performance. The glimpses that we got, showed us a confused, lonely and a times delusional man who might have realized how others viewed his actions. I wonder if the strange behavior is a result of excessive adulation as similarities in Michael’s lifestyle can be found with Elvis Presley and a few others. Michael’s behavior caused people to ignore much of his extensive humanitarian work.

Rest in Peace Michael and keep moonwalking in heaven.

Well, it turns out that Father Cutie (pronounced Koo-tee-ay), was caught frolicking on the sands of Miami Beach with the horror of horrors, a woman! This caused much distress to church elders and confirmed that Father Cutie was an ass man. A few days later, after the media had had a field day, Father Cutie admitted that he had a girlfriend and ocassionally they made whoopi. This means that Father Cutie was not a virgin and had popped his cork along the way. Good for him cuz celibacy sucks. He subsequently left the priesthood and became an Episcopalian reverend.

Rumors have started to surface that Ruhama Canellis, his formerly secret girlfriend, has a few skeletons in her closets. First, Canellis is divorced and has a 15 year old son (poor kid, people will harrass him with ”yo mama sucked the priest’s dick”); then it turns out she might be a masseusse. An ex-lover has surfaced saying that Canellis used him and wants him deported (poor dude is undocumented). Some folks even say that she leaked her and Cutie’s whereabouts the day of the beach orgy,.. er, I mean dalliance, in exchange for some cash. Likewise, Father Cutie might be loaded, after all he has a radio program, TV show and no wife and kids to spend his dough on.

But the questions remains: how would Father Cutie know if the woman he’s dating is a saint or Satan’s little helper? The poor guy can’t at all. He’s not a sailor. He’s never paid for punani. He wouldn’t know the difference between Jenna Jameson and Mother Theresa. He wouldn’t notice if a woman is dating him only for his wealth and fame (as odd as that might seem in his case). Since priests are supposed to remain celibate (but somehow give advice to married folks), they don’t get to date. They don’t learn about picking up woman in the seminary. Hence, they have a different conception of male-female relationships. Regular guys with some experience can tell when a girl is a slut (likewise, girls can tell when a guy is a man-whore). Regular folks also don’t always marry their first love nor the person with whom they first had sex (regardless of whether it the hot wild type). Those who do, usually end up divorced after three years. In my opinion, everyone should go out there, date a lot, kiss a few folks, lick some punani, do it doggie-style, side-ways, upside-down, master the art of blow job, mix in a few nasty fluids (if that’s your thing), before getting marriage. In the end, let’s wish luck to Father Cutie. Rumors, after all, might be fake. And his new bride isn’t bad-looking either. Just make sure to sign a pre-nup.

There’s Father Cutie, his lover,..er I mean wife and 2 geezers from the Episcopalian Church. Nice hat.