Wednesday, June 18, 2014
I'm still giving away more than others make, still paying my employees more than any other club in town, still driving my old work car to work (It has more to do with security than it does with humility.), still asked for advice and guidance from other business owners, I still have a solid reputation and I still hate nightclubs.
I'm referred to as the 'King Maker' by local politicians because I have a ninety percent success rate when I endorse a candidate.
I'm asked to sit on the boards of charitable foundations, asked to become an honorary member of clubs and fraternities, asked to support causes...
Everyone who is 'someone' in this town treats me well.
But herein lies the problem.
I am now seen as an Expert.
As a local celebrity.
I hate "Experts".
Experts believe that they always know best, that they are more important than others, that they no longer have a need to learn, listen or to be humble.
Experts are overconfident and lazy.
Experts are overpaid and under performing.
Experts, are pretty much useless.
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
With a new version of Godzilla coming out, I decided to teach my girlfriend's son a thing or two about Sci-Fi monster movies.
Epix has been showing a lot of the classic monster movies lately.
Hours of bad special effects, dubbed lines and story lines which are a stretch for any imagination are just a DVR away. (Godzilla on Monster Island or Godzilla Versus Monster X being my favorites.)
But the saddest series of the genre would have to be the final scene of Giant Robot.
Sure, Kimba talking to the ghost of his dead father was a tear jerker - and no, Bambi's mother getting killed in a fire was for wimps - the saddest scene of any movie or television series I remember watching as a kid was when Giant Robot refused to heed the commands of his master, Johnny Sakko, in order to save the world.
After watching all 26 episodes of the series, the saddest words I could bear were...
"Giant Robot, come back! We need you here...!"
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
I never knew that a woman's weave was seen as a symbol of status?
I have a cocktail waitress (not pictured here but just as ratchet) who was embarrassed that her new summer-weave was too short.
Sure, it was Virgin Remi - but to some, the length of ones weave is a sign of having money.
The problem was: the girl was picking up extra shifts so that she could afford to buy hair that she cannot really afford.
The girl was willing to be broke in order to appear 'rich'.
Guys buying cars they cannot afford to insure, maintain or even keep gas in, women buying $1700.00 handbags with only $17.00 in them, and women buying someone else's hair (and no longer even having to pretend that it is their own) and going broke doing so...
I'm sorry, but the ghetto/ratchet/hood culture is one that is beyond my understanding.