I just stopped in Castle Hayne to fill up two tires that were very low. The thing about Castle Hayne is that it's a nice little country town outside of Wilmington. It even borders Wilmington, but most people that live in Wilmington wouldn't know how to get out of their bubble and find it.
The fun thing about Castle Hayne convenience stores is that there is always a random dirty black guy and a random dirty redneck looking at you from different sides of the store parking lot both waiting to rape or rob you. They never do it, but you can tell they're thinking about it. The just let you pump your gas or whatever and then walk backwards into the wooded area around the store. I take that back, there are actually some pretty good crimes in Castle Hayne. A lot are done by Mexicans. The following one wasn't.
Two months ago, some young black dude got into an argument in a convenience store with his girlfriend. So how did he handle his fight with his girlfriend? Naturally, he walked up to a white guy he didn't know and put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. (I still don't know what that was going to accomplish.) It's all on high-quality security tape. Here's the best part: the gun misfired. So that honkey from Castle Hayne gets to know a thrill most of us will never get to know. He knows the rush you feel when a stranger puts a gun to the front of your head right above your eyes and fires it. He got to feel it without the usual added effect: death and bloodiness.
I'll tell you one more thing that describes Castle Hayne. People who live there are always winning the lottery. Just last week some dude won a million. People there are always winning a million. Their mostly nice folks and you'd think I'd be happy for them, but I'm not. You know why? I don't think poor people should win the lottery. It sends a bad message. It tells other poor people, "You don't have to do shit, just keep wasting money on lady luck down at the Kangaroo Mart and you'll be fine."
You know who I like to see win the lottery? Rich motherfuckers. It's hilarious. They have all they need, and they get more! That's the way it should be. It says, "This guy worked his ass off and someone just put financial whipped cream on his already-pile of whipped cream." That's the way it should be. It tells poor people to get their asses to work. As the old saying goes, "Poor people have poor ways." Look, in America you shouldn't be poor forever. And the number one indicator of the fact that you won't be butt-ass poor forever is if you just keep working without taking extend voluntary periods away from the workforce. (I read lots of studies. I do it because it confuses the assumers who think this silly bastard here must also be an idiot. Oh, I am an idiot, but not in every way.)
But the greatest lesson about rich people winning the lottery is what they do afterwards: THEY KEEP WORKING! Poor people that win the lottery quit their job down at the pantyhose factory before the press conference is even over. They usually quit live on television. That don't even have enough class to write a resignation to the boss - or serve out a two weeks. But rich people that win the lottery, you hear about them burning the midnight oil even ten years after winning it all. They may have a private jet, but they'll turn that island-bound jet around and head back to headquarters if their is an emergency at the office. Sure, we all know the occasional rich prick who got money from his parents and didn't do shit with his life, but most rich people I know: they're tired! Sure, they can afford a massuesse and unlimited perscription of uppers - but they need those things. They've been working their asses off! Sorry, jack. I'm not gonna buy into this class warfare and envy game that people have been trying to sell me. I don't hate the rich. One day, I want to be the rich. And it won't happen by winning the lottery. I have to admit though, I'm not sure that I'm smart enough to become rich, and I'll tell you why. I can be really really dumb. You want proof of my dumb? (As if I haven't given you enough.) When I went to the Kangaroo Mart this afternoon and pulled in to fill up my two low tires, a miracle happened. I got out of the car and saw the miracle before my eyes. Both tires were already filled back up! Did they do it themselves? Was it the work of God? Or was it the fact that I'm an idiot? Yep, it was that. It occurred to me right then and there what had really happened. I had just woken up from a nap about 30 minutes prior to stopping at the gas station and I suddenly remembered having a dream about having two flat tires. Yes, I pulled in to fill up real tires, when the only ones that were flat were dream tires! I'm never gonna be rich. Unless I play the lottery in Castle Hayne. But then that black guy and the dirty redneck will just rob me of my ticket. So screw the whole thing.