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In tonight's issue, we learn more about the inner drive behind a man's lashing out at what society fails to question.
Truckonomy
I sleep in my truck. It's not something I am proud of. I don't do it for fun or for attention or to be able to say in a better time of my life, "I once slept in my truck for some period of weeks or what turned into months."

No, I do it because there is no better choice. Because it's the only suitable solution to my problem. I work but not enough, so I'm still considered unemployed and I don't have to pay back student loans yet. They just sit gathering interest. I wasn't included in the bailout package.

Lord God, I was so pissed off to find that the government was bailing out Citigroup. When I heard the news, I was furious. Because these ******** mismanaged their money, they're getting bailed out by the government while the horde of people struggling to make $200 monthly payments suffer the twofold consequence of a drop in value of the few dollars they have.

And my anger doesn't stem from my perverse desire to watch it all collapse. Burn and collapse. Sweet smell of burning paper, drywall, burning berber carpet, burning dot matrix printers. Scents of victory. No, I want to see Democracy and Capitalism function the way it was originally intended. s**t doesn't work this way? It's finally collapsing? Let someone make money by starting a new mindset. How uninspired. How unimaginative. How infantile, to just pump air into a deflating raft when the hole is too large to be repaired. Ditch the raft, build a boat. Quit pumping money into this sinking ******** raft and get us on a boat, and quit bleeding our paychecks dry by holding the life preservers over our heads and charging us to reach for them.





 
 
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