On A Cold And Gray California Mornin, A Poor Little Baby Child Is Kept From Bein' Born. In The Ghetto.

Today I went back to my roots and pulled a shift in the ghetto. I used to regularly work in the ghetto, and I miss it. It's far more interesting there than with the affluent clientele' I work with these days. Let's face it, assholes are boring. They look the same. They act the same. There are perhaps 5 acceptable hair styles, clothing types, and thoughts that are allowed among those with a high net worth, and watching how quickly the credit cards can come out when the insurance claim for Viagra is denied time after time can get more than a little monotonous. In the ghetto however, the cluelessness, the desperation, and the zest for life you can have when you know you might die tomorrow almost always makes for a lively work experience, and today was no exception. First thing this morning an old Asian lady makes her way to the happy pill room carrying an empty shopping basket and proceeds to fill 'er up with prophylactics. Damn near cleared out all the rubbers we had, then looks at me and says at a volume that might have been indicative of hearing loss, "YOU KEEP GOOD STOCK"

I don't know if this was intended as a compliment or as a command.

"She runs the massage parlor up the street" My temporary trusty tech for the day told me later.

"And exactly how do you know this?" I asked, and we both had a good laugh. He never did answer the question.

Later on he said it would be funny if he went to this woman's place of business and made some smart-ass comment about the stock she kept.

"When was the last time someone checked the expiration date on those condoms?" I said, and it looked like a light bulb went off in his head. They tell you in pharmacy school you'll be saving lives. They don't always tell you how.

No one ever caught AIDS from a scotch bottle. Never a boring day in the ghetto.

Apologies to Elvis for the post headline.