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17th of July, 2018

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Baby Needs New Shoes


Man, did you ever get into one of those spirals, where everything needs to be replaced at once? I need a car, a driver’s license, a new computer, furniture, spiffy clothes, a watch, some swanky shoes. In fact, I’m in need of pretty much everything that differentiates a human from a cave bear. It’s sad, really, that I’ve lived as long as I have in Germany without actually building a beachhead. It’s a good thing I wasn’t in charge of Operation Overlord, or they’d all be speaking German here*.


Sadly, I’ve got no money to speak of, as I’m apparently born to be po’. I can’t save money, for some reason. I’m not a big spender, so it must be the North Georgia white trash in my blood that acts as a bling repellent. It’s not like I’m tossing out Franklins and snorting heroin off the well-manicured mons venera of lanky Czech supermodels or anything. I lead a simple life. I get up in the morning; well, technically it’s still morning. I work hard...-ish. Until recently, I didn’t waste my money on luxuries like meat. So where does it go?


In a Socialist system, there’s an amazing amount of built-in drag. It’s like there’s an enormous, good-intentioned man-child riding shotgun who keeps lifting the hand brake while you’re trying to drive. A large amount of the money that you earn is siphoned off by the Gubmint for safekeeping. Which is great, don’t get me wrong; otherwise, you’d do something stupid with it, like buy corn dogs. The problem with this is, it makes saving money for things you think you need difficult; luckily, the government is using that money to finance your retirement, health care, and quality public television to let us know where canned soup comes from.


I guess it’s all for the better. I don’t really need a new computer right now: I managed to coax the current one back to life by removing the firewire card. And a car isn’t necessary, as isn’t the $1000 driving license to go with it, seeing as there’s a magical Streetcar Named Thriftiness that stops right outside my door. I just wish I didn’t have to stand next to all those smelly, aggressive winos while I wait on it. I wonder where they get the money to buy all that booze, anyway?

---

* -- sorry, bad joke.

Comments

GUYK

When I was stationed in Germany way back in the mid 1970s getting a permit to drive was the cheap part..it is the auto insurance that eat me up as well as the price of fuel off the bases

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