maybe
I'm in the wrong profession and should trade in my keyboard for some
speedos and summa those tight ass muscle shirts the swollen cats at the
club wear. if Rob Schneider can do it, why can't I?!
Last
night I watched "Cat House" on HBO, that show about the brothel, The
Bunny Ranch, in Nevada. In the preview of the next episode, one of the
ladies pronounced she was about to make $30 thousand for an “out date,”
presumably a “date” that takes place off the ranch. After utter shock,
an incredulous conversation with my right-hand man, rumination, a
good’s night rest, and some more thought, I’ve decided that if I were
female, I would become a prostitute, if I had the opportunity to make
that kinda change. Fuck morality, which itself is perpetually
circumscribed by circumstance.
The women at the Bunny Ranch charge
$1500-plus per hour. I know the owner of the ranch is taking money off
the top of that, but even if he takes half, where else can anyone
that’s not an entertainer make that much cash? Theoretically, using the
$750/hr. figure, a “bunny” could work 250 hours (the equivalent of six
work weeks) and make close to $200k. A worker bee, or hungry sex kitten
(if you’d prefer), could conceivably make more than $1 million in a
year, if she had the desire, lubrication, and ice packs to do it. 1,350
hours of fornication (which certainly doesn’t sound that bad, maybe cuz
Imma guy) is all it would take; 34 weeks worth of s+f (use your
imagination to decipher what that means) to become a 7-figure chick. 35
short, “out dates” would perform the same miracle.
Fuck mommy,
daddy, my future hubby, the haters, the churchgoers, errygotdambody, I
would get that paper! Maybe I’d just disappear for 18 months, stack
cheese, and then return to familiar society, keeping my temporary
occupation and my wealth a secret. With my earnings from carnal toil, I
could decide never to work again, or if I owed Sallie Mae and Access
Group some unreasonable sum, I could pay them back in a breath too! (
Taking a moment to bask in the fantasy of the latter scenario.
Be back…)
(
Ok.
Back.)
Beyond
my epiphany that Imma hoe at heart, I’ve also resolved I have a
socialist streak. Something irks me about the fact that some cat spent
about what the average (median) African-American makes in a year on
some pootie tow; not even some Rosario Dawson, Kenya Moore…(my bad!
Dude is prolly white, in which case) Sandra Bullock, Alyssa Milano
pootie tow, just regular pale chic wit implants pootie tow!
Never
mind that irony, (since we can attribute African-Americans' paltry
earnings to the anti-education culture amongst “urban blacks,” the
fostering of dependency by the Democratic Party, race-baiters that
provide excuses for blacks instead of pushing for personal
responsibility, and, of course, rap music) what really bothers is that
the same cat, who paid $30k for the cooch cooch, quite possibly could
have some immigrant with four kids cleaning his office that makes
barely more than half of that in a year. Then consider that the same
cat, if he’s conservative (like I assume most rich folks are), would
probably insist that his janitor/cleaner should not make the same
amount of money he spent on an extramarital “date,” lest his company
run into the red.
How bout another funked up scenario, which doesn’t even require speculation like the prior two? George W. Bush, a.k.a.
Bushy The Revenge,
passed an exorbitant tax cut, so that guys that can afford to spend
tens of Gs on snatch can have more money to spend on such luxuries (“
they bear more of the burden,
so they should get more of the relief”
(Lmao!)) At the same time, Republicans insinuate that if we raised the
federal minimum wage, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse would emerge
from the ashes wreaking havoc and devastation on our cities. Maybe if
cleaning ladies swallowed and took butt plugs, they’d get raises
immediately. Hmmm…
