Hypocrisy Is A Dish Best Served Cold…And Green

As I headed to the bank yesterday to deposit a very unexpected check, I was aghast to see the lights off and the parking lot devoid of cars. I was momentarily confused, but then the light bulb turned on. I immediately began cursing the dead presidents this day had been set to honor…the same deceased leaders who grace the faces of the greenbacks I thought should have been lining my pockets that day. So I sat, in front of me, a huge, cold bowl of my own hypocrisy, and a big fucking spoon. I finished every last spoonful, thinking I’d learn a lesson. Alas, I’m still annoyed, as if the bank wasn’t going to be there today. This holiday is pretty much useless to most people, barring teachers and students, as most get a four-day weekend out of the deal. And I don’t know about you, but I’m not spending the day in private meditation, peppering the hours with moments of silence in remembrance of two slave-owning hoodlums (check the history books, it’s there) who have been dead for centuries. Sure, they did some tremendous things, as you might know if you were awake for five minutes in any history class you’ve taken, but I don’t see the need for two days of rest. I’m usually a big fan of rest too, but I’m a bigger fan of money. Cheers.