There are over 4,000,000 Americans either on parole or probation or are currently incarcerated in a jail or prison. Around a third of those Americans were convicted on drug offenses, the majority of which were drug trafficking charges followed by possession. Drug charges account for nearly 80% of the increase in prison/parole population since the 1980's when the "War on Drugs" really kicked into gear. 

A recent NPR story covering the results of a study conducted in China reported that just by handling money a person experiences less pain. (The story can be read here http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=111579154&ft=1&f=1001 ) The story suggests that these effects are akin to similar reactions our bodies have towards taking pain medication... drugs.

My head was hurting when I woke up this morning so I decided to run my fingers through my large coin collection by the side of my bed. I really should say change collection because the word coin might bring images of Spanish deblumes or mis-mints from days of yore, but really its just a bunch of nickels, dimes, and quarters all hailing from the depths of my pockets. Really it wasn't much of a collection either. At last count it was just under 67 dollars so must be around 68 because its only been a day and I count it ever other day and at the count before last it was around 65 dollars.

The effects this stroking had on my head pain wasn't immediate. I was well into my morning routine before I had noticed there had been a slight degradation of the pounding i had awoke with. I say pounding because my favorite way to describe the intensity of a headache is by comparing it to a large animal and its manifestation in my brain. By the time I was pulling on my business causal style shirt, it had buttons, the Elephants stampede in my skull had been downgraded to a march.

Periodically for the rest of the morning I would stop by my change collection and let a few handfuls fall through my fingers. Normally the sound of metal on metal would cause my headaches to flare, but there was something magical about the sound of dimes hitting quarters. It was almost like someone from far away, perhaps through a large tin cylinder, was saying "Its going to be alright". By the time I was grabbing my keys to head out the door the Elephants were just finishing up Swan Lake to a standing ovation of neurons. The coins and I had won.

I whistled a tune as I skipped to the train stop. Everything seemed to fall into rhythm with my song. The turn of the turn style the beeping of commuter passes. As I approached the entrance this little diddy needed a triplet so I passed my card along each of the three turn styles. Beep. Beep. Beep. With a tip of my hat, which was not actually on my head, I entered. As I waited for the train the sun shining brightly on my face I thought of what a great day it would most definitely be.

Then all of a sudden like a flash the Elephants were taking the stage again, but their leotards and pointy shoes had been replaced with leather pants and over sized electric guitars. The platform began to spin as the pain grew. I looked for the exit but the train had pulled up and I mistakenly rushed into the opening door thinking it was the way out back to my change. I stumbled into a seat. Actually i stumbled onto a person in a seat. Images of large pachyderms smashing a drum kit while one screamed "It's not going to be alright" into a microphone flicked through my head. The doors closed. I tried imagining swimming in a pool of gold coins and it began to ease my suffering until Scrooge McDuck showed up and told me to get the fuck out of his money pool.

I began sweating and then came the convulsions, everyone in the train car began exiting through the door that reads only open in an emergency, which you couldn't fault them for opening because by all means this was one. I crumpled further into my seat. The end was near, but whats this? I felt something under me, something square and in a back pocket, something that held the key to me pulling through. I grabbed and groped my ass to free my wallet from my pants. I hastily clawed away attempting to open it, but it was a trifold, a cursed trifold. I threw it to the floor and stomped and stomped it until... there he was, Andrew Jackson freed from his cage.

The Elephants stood still. I bent down and gently scooped Andy up, or Drew, not sure what his closest friends would of called him but I felt comfortable calling him it because at that moment he was the bestest friend I had ever had. In my renewed state I properly unfolded the trifold and took out my remaining saviors. I clenched them in my hands rubbing them against my hot wet cheeks. To tell you I didn't want to lay a kiss on every one of them would be a lie, and I would of done so if one of those damn Elephants hadn't started signaling for the landing of a 747 full of Elephants ready to compete in a step competetion.

I wept. The doors of the train opened. I looked up to take in my final image of this earth and there it was above a convenient store window. It read ATM in large glowing letters that shined brighter than the morning sun. I cast away the useless Jacksons, they were no good to me anymore. Visa, and Mastercard would save me now.

Is it normal to go out to the street to get into your car and when its not where you remembered parking it you immediately think it's been stolen? Or how about when you go to make a sandwich at work on your lunch break and your peanut butter seems to be at a lower level than you recall and you think who the Frick had the nerve to eat my peanut butter? Or maybe when you've just done laundry and you wind up with a missing pair to a sock and you think, how in the hell did you not see that person open up your machine and grab a sock, I mean you were right there listening to your ipod..... You weren't jamming out with you eyes closed again where you? Jesus after last time when it was smart wool you swore you'd catch that scumbag! You even made a play list called "Songs that I won't jam out to, thus not closing my eyes which would allow some jerk off to steal yet another single sock, rendering its mate alone and useless!". Wait did you put "My Heart Will Go On" in there? Yeah. Sure. Over a decade ago, when that masterpiece came out, you hated it, but now you're older and understand a woman's heart... you can't resist shutting out the Laundromat around you to better picture the imagery of those lyrics.... and do you know how long that song is? You're lucky you have any matching socks at all!

Dear Friend,
 
How's it hanging? Fam still doing good? How'd that investment scheme you were involved with turn out? I didn't hear your name on any news outlets so either congrats or good luck staying one step in front of the law.

I really do miss our time together. Remember that one time when you posted that funny comment and I commented back and then you commented back and then someone else commented on our comments and we both commented them back but then they never commented us back so we commented to each other posturing if they'd been embarrassed or perhaps they died in a fire soon after the last comment? Man if I had a nickel for every time you made me laugh I'd be overburdened with nickels and probably couldn't afford the storage fees to house a collection so large. Hahaha, you always loved change jokes.

Anyways I don't want to take up too much of your time, I mean its kind of selfish of me to spend so little time with you then ask you to pour over such drivel. Also I'm nearing the end of my lunch break and If I go over the allotted hour they suspend my health care for 18 years. I just wanted to say Hi, and let you know I am thinking about you.

Give the Fam my best and sorry I didn't send that kid of yours a birthday gift. I couldn't remember if it was a boy or a girl, their age, and frankly what address to send it too. I mean you have soo many spread out over god's green earth, you never could keep it in your pants!

Besties,

RWG

LAGOS, NIGERIA.

ATTENTION: THE FOD TEAM

DEAR SIRS AND MADAMS,

CONFIDENTIAL BUSINESS PROPOSAL

HAVING CONSULTED WITH MY COLLEAGUES AND BASED ON THE INFORMATION GATHERED FROM THE NIGERIAN CHAMBERS OF COMMERCE AND NUDE NATIVE DANCES , I HAVE THE PRIVILEGE TO REQUEST FOR YOUR ASSISTANCE TO TRANSFER THE SUM OF $47,500,000.00 (FORTY SEVEN MILLION, FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND UNITED STATES DOLLARS) INTO YOUR ACCOUNTS. THE ABOVE SUM RESULTED FROM AN OVER-INVOICED PARTY PONTOON RENTAL DOWN THE NIGER DELTA, EXECUTED COMMISSIONED AND PAID FOR ABOUT FIVE YEARS (5) AGO BY THE INTOXICATED GENTLEMEN WITH THE CHECKBOOK. THIS ACTION WAS HOWEVER INTENTIONAL AND SINCE THEN THE FUND HAS BEEN IN A SUSPENSE ACCOUNT AT THE CENTRAL BANK OF NIGERIA APEX BANK, THE ONE DOWNTOWN ACROSS FROM THE STARBUCKS.

WE ARE NOW READY TO TRANSFER THE FUND OVERSEAS, OR THROUGH THE AIR, AND THAT IS WHERE YOU ALL COME IN. IT IS IMPORTANT TO INFORM YOU THAT AS A CIVIL SERVANT, I AM FORBIDDEN TO OPERATE A FOREIGN ACCOUNT, OR COME WITHING TWO MILES OF A PUBLIC PARK; THAT IS WHY I REQUIRE YOUR ASSISTANCE. THE TOTAL SUM WILL BE SHARED AS FOLLOWS: 70% FOR ME, 25% FOR YOU AND 5% FOR JERRY'S KIDS, HE WORKS IN I.T. AND IS GOING TO SEE THIS E-MAIL. HEY JERRY.

THE TRANSFER IS, UNLIKE SLEEPING WITH A PROSTITUTE, RISK FREE ON BOTH SIDES. I AM AN ACCOUNTANT WITH THE NIGERIAN INTERNATIONAL PETROLEUM PRODUCING YEOMEN (NIPPY). IF YOU FIND THIS PROPOSAL ACCEPTABLE, WE SHALL REQUIRE THE FOLLOWING DOCUMENTS:

(A) YOUR BANKER'S NAME, TELEPHONE, ACCOUNT AND FAX NUMBERS.

(B) YOUR PRIVATE TELEPHONE AND FAX NUMBERS -- FOR CONFIDENTIALITY, EASY COMMUNICATION, AND LATE NIGHT DRUNK DIALS, WHICH WILL ACTUALLY BE AROUND MID DAY FOR YOU.

(C) YOUR LETTER-HEADED PAPER STAMPED AND SIGNED.

(D) A PICTURE OF WILL FERREL IN THE BUFF

ALTERNATIVELY WE WILL FURNISH YOU WITH THE TEXT OF WHAT TO TYPE INTO YOUR FANCY-SCHMANCY LETTER-HEADED PAPER, ALONG WITH A BREAKDOWN EXPLAINING, COMPREHENSIVELY WHAT WE REQUIRE OF YOU. THE BUSINESS WILL TAKE ME THIRTY (30) WORKING DAYS TO ACCOMPLISH. I ONLY WORK WEEKENDS SO THAT'S ABOUT 3 MONTHS, OH AND EVERY THIRD WEEKEND I KEEP THE KIDS. THAT'LL ADD ANOTHER MONTH. ALSO I DO GOLF OCCASIONALLY. I AM NOT A PROFESSIONAL OR ANYTHING BUT SOMETIMES YOU GOT TO PLAY A LITTLE GOLF TO GET AHEAD IN THIS WORLD. IN THE END WE'RE LOOKING AT A SOLID 6 MONTHS, UNLESS IT DURING THE RAINY SEASON IN WHICH ALL BETS ARE OFF AND I'LL GET TO IT WHEN I GET TO IT.


PLEASE REPLY URGENTLY.

BEST REGARDS,

Random White Guy

I took a step towards adulthood today and purchased my first suit. Not a useful suit such as a bathing suit, a diving suit, or a chicken suit. I'm talking a no joke, I'm sick of eating Hot dogs and Mac n Cheese, lets try to look like we belong at this interview so they might mess up and actually hire me, suit. Otherwise known as business professional attire.

I have always had reservations about buying such clothing. I felt that it didn't really match my style and for me to wear a suit would be like putting lip stick on a pit bull then trying to pass it off as a serious candidate for Miss Alaska. I mean sure the pit bull could conceivably make it through evening wear, and undoubtedly the judges would be impressed when, for her talent, the pit bull eats 2 small children playing gleefully in a yard, but when it comes time to the question segment the pit bull will be screwed. World peace doesn't sound sincere coming from the same mouth that just devoured a pair of kids.

I had a change of heart  about purchasing a suit after I started getting interviews that required business professional attire. Well actually the change of heart started when I gave my resume a bit of a face lift. The traditional foundation and blush just didn't make my resume attractive enough. I had to do a little botox into the years of experience and a bit of lipo to those unseemly gaps in employment. I'd of gone for some silicone implants for my education but that's much harder to pull off without soemone knowing its fake. You see my old resume wasn't getting its dance card filled by any means. So after my new and improved resume received a number of gentlemen callers I thought,  that's not me, really, so whats a fancy get up gonna hurt now?   

A bit of advice to any male shopping for their first suit. The sales associate that greets you as you walk in the door will either be the biggest stuck up prick you've ever seen or obviously gay. The prick will make you feel like you would be better fit at a a mop store picking out a new handle, and the gay guy is gonna tell you that your shoes wont match, your ties are horrible, and unless you want to look like a bum you need a new dress shirt. Either way you're gonna spend more money than planned. To impress the prick you'll buy a nicer suit, and because the gay guy is correct in his assessments you'll purchase all the accoutrements. After all you're not buying this suit to look like a bum.

In the end no matter what suit you get from where you're gonna have the same thought. "I can't believe I just spent that much when I have so little." They say to look at it as an investment into your future. They are right. You'll either get a great job that pays well enough to buy even more suits or you'll have something nice to be buried in after missing the shelter check in one particularly cold night. Sure that suit looks great but it doesn't provide much warmth.

Its funny to think for the same money I spent on a single use business suit I could of gotten a real sweet chicken suit, and oh are there so many uses for a chicken suit. 

What is the deal with Angus Beef? It seems to be making it's way into everything meat; Steaks, Burgers, French Dips. I've even seen it sneak into some not so meat places, like those fast food sub joints. Well the other day, while I was shopping for my monthly supply of freezer and micro friendly grocery supplies, I gave in and left with two packages of Angus Beef Hot Dogs. I paid for one and got the other one free because I had a Valued Important Special Fresh Deal Customer Membership Plan Card on my key chain. I finally applied for one last month after I asked the nice old lady behind me in line if I could borrow hers and she flicked me off. I didn't save 16.92 that day but letting the air out of her tires as she slowly returned her cart to the store felt real good.

Tonight I checked my Meal Management Plan and saw I had to start eating these Angus Beef hot dogs if I wanted to earn the maximum yield from my monthly food investments. It wasn't because the hot dogs were about to go bad. I mean everyone knows that hot dogs are sealed in the highest of tech germ free plastic wrapping and the juice they reside in have been used on many a tainted camping expedition to preserve human body parts for days until they could be reattached. To this day my Uncle cannot keep hungry dogs away from his left ear. No I had to eat hot dogs tonight because the bag-o-buns expiration date is steadily approaching.

Time is a crucial factor in any successful Meal Management Plan. You see not only is a tossed moldy bun a waste of asset from the bread group, it also throws off the bag-o-buns to germ-metically sealed hot dogs ratio. The perfect plan goes as follows. You buy large quantities of ever fresh hot dogs, but only one bag-o-buns. You start eating the hots dogs for meals, usually two at a time, well before the expiration of the bag-o-buns. This way you can eat all 8 dogs in one pack and all 8 buns in one bag before the green death starts a`growing and, if you start soon enough, you don't have to perform the dreaded Hot Dog Trifecta. Consuming Hot dogs for breakfast lunch and dinner all in one day. Then you go to the 7/11 down the block and buy another bag-o-buns, resetting the countdown. If this is thrown off by moldy bread or the eating of a hot dog sans bun, which is a disgrace most people have performed some drunken night, then you will end up with a far less profitable 3 to 2 or worse 5 to 3 ratio.

As I started preparing my meal tonight I wondered what this Angus Beef would bring to the hot dog table. I was filled with anticipation as I poked holes in the ends of my Angus Dog duo, placed them in the microwave oven, set the cook time to the tune of 63 seconds and started prepping the buns. I didn't know if these special wieners would need a special mixture of condiments. Maybe more Ketchup or less Relish. I received comfort in the fact that this was my first and I would have many more chances to experiment for perfection.

The micro-ding sounded and I pulled from the oven two partially exploded Angus Beef Hot Dogs. They were placed into the made buns and I started to the table. Like any man cooking any kind of hot dog, half way to the table I picked one up and took a bite. After a second of skillfully balancing the hot parts of the bite on the wet spots on my tongue I started to chew, then taste, and I came to a quick revelation. Angus Beef assholes and ears taste just like any other cow's assholes and ears, in fact it tasted just like pig assholes and ears and chicken assholes and ears. Which we all know is what all hot dogs are made of.

This fact wont factor into my next trip to the grocery store because I buy whichever mixture of assholes and ears my Valued Important Special Fresh Deal Customer Membership Plan Card gets me a deal on.