Quote:
Originally Posted by Twodogs
Come on out to Kansas City and I'll take you around to meet some. I used to buy my junk down in the city, so I know the "Brooklyn" area and some of the residents very well. I wouldn't lie to you anyway, they treat it like a business. The guy, if there is one, doesn't claim to live there, so the woman and kids qualify for mo stuff (mo kids, mo stuff). He deals drugs (in some form or another) all day, while she sits around watching TV and tending the kids. Food stamps are just like money in the hood.
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Reminds me of old times.
Back when I was "kid", my buddies and myself lived in Denver, one bock off of Colfax Ave., close to the State Capitol. Nothing but drunks, titty bars, and drug dealers. No place for a Methodist, and I didn't remain one for very long. Apologizes to Samuel Clemens.
Our neighbor was a junkie, now on methadone, who sat around his apartment all day drinking Schlitz Malt Liquor and listening to old Hank Williams records on his POS record player. While his wife "worked".
Anyway, we were out on Colfax one evening (talk about a bunch of rubes) and saw Dave's wife come out of a bar with a big drunk who was feeling her up. We turned to one another in shock and said, "This is horrible, wonder if Dave knows his wife is running around on him".
Didn't take too long to figger out what Dave meant when he said his wife "worked".
I learned a bunch of things that summer.
Chas