I’m sick of this consciousness.  This insane American consciousness.  We continually compare and measure ourselves against each other.  It’s how we know our value.  If you have a nicer vehicle it means you are doing better than me.  If you have a nicer house it means you are just better than me.  I try not to care about such things.  It’s hard though.  People who have made it seem so happy.  Even when they are divorcing or in trouble for some terrible deed they still seem happier.  They may not be.  I don’t know.  They just look the part.  Rolling to your trial in a limo denotes style and taste and happiness.  Happiness dammit!  It can be bought I’m sure of it.  Sure they tell us about all the lotto winners who have a bad time with their cash.  Do they ever tell us about the ones who live happily ever after?  That’s a big No.  I know when I first get my pittance, or paycheck as it is called, I am pretty happy.  As I dole it out to the people who own me I get less happy.  I believe this is proof. 

      I’m looking at my chances for making more money and thus gaining some extra happiness.   I don’t like my chances.  I am trying  some stuff.  That stuff doesn’t seem to be paying  off.  I’ve heard people say, people that should know, that you have to spend money to make money.  Well I spent a bunch of money.  I made some money.  I’ve basically broken even if you don’t count the hours and  hours I’ve put into my endeavor.  It’s not happening for me.  I have no one but to blame but all of  you.  If you all would stop looking so nice in your fancy houses and your fancy cars then I would not feel so small.  I would not feel so inadequate.  The comparison between me and you would not end so  badly for me.   That’s why I’m close to throwing up my hands and saying the hell with it.  Why not go all the way?  Be the ultimate comparative loser.  Be a bum.  A wino.  A lay-about.  A hobo.  A Democrat if you’re a Republican, or a Republican if you’re a Democrat.  I could easily just admit I have lost the battle and relax, drink, beg for food, get beaten up or killed, freeze to death, whatever.  Who cares?  I guess my wife and kid would care.  Dammit!  So I’ll get up tomorrow morning and slap a poor-man’s smile on my face and go out there and tread water, spin my wheels, chase my tail, run in one place, and stay even.  I’m not falling behind and I’m not getting ahead.  I’m comparing my ass off to the rest of you.  Please think of me when you decide if you want the racing stripes or not.  You really don’t need them.