It’s not hard to figure out the difference between the rich and the poor. You know the answer. Everybody knows the raw deal, apart from the clueless affluent. The disparate views inhabit the world of those without, so many levels of the indigent, and the ignorance of the wealthy who’ve never worked an honest job, riding freely on the poorest backs with lame-ass excuses. Work hard and save money. Something that they never have to worry about.
Even the neediest look down upon the ones less fortunate than themselves. I got mine; you get your own. There’s always someone worse off than another. The cruelty of ruling-class arrogance is legion throughout history. They don’t wish to spread it around. A bacchanalian excess of conspicuous consumption. A drunk tourist in Tijuana. Sad housewives playing penny slots at the local casino. Throwing that money around like there's no tomorrow. Only the rich know the price tag.
Everything is so expensive, they quip. Quibbling over pocket change and gas prices. Cutting corners with discount coupons. Buying lottery tickets for tomorrow’s better days that never arrive. Scratch-off ticket losers in a brain-dead economy. It’s cheaper than dying. All is well except life for the living. Life is always cut-rate around here in the land of the not-so-free and homeless of the brave. Bloated bloviates sneer down greedy snouts at the floundering masses. The less fortunate ones without struggle would have nothing if they didn’t have pain and suffering to spread out. The same sorry storyline. The rich get richer by the poor who stay poor. How did it get that way, or worse yet, why does it continue? The rich could solve the world’s problems in half a day, but they’re too busy accumulating more money.
There are no easy answers, only lame excuses from dismissive people who don’t care about truth, as advertised by the media. Rummaging through the day-old bread aisle, grabbing buy-one-get-one deals at the Dollar store. Off-brand discount cigarettes and cheap booze. Shoddy polyester clothes and plastic shoes. The illusion of charge card freedom and the choice of no options with double interest. It’s always been a tale of two worlds in the same place. But not exactly together. The richest hide high above inside towering skyscrapers, looking down at the ants, those little worker grunts.
They keep their heads down, living in hovels inside the city's gross underbelly. Life is bargain-basement cheap, more than ever before. Insane nightmares blinking wide awake in the bowels of high-rise projects, inner-city ghetto dwellers who dream about something to eat. Meanwhile, back at the White House, the grand Great Gatsby-themed gala is in full swing. It’s the greedy versus the needy.
The greedy want more of what they don’t need, and the needy get what they deserve according to the wealthy, doling out little scraps and crumbs. Government cheese and potted meat, the Mac and cheese of giving us this day our daily bread, and the audacity of people who have terminally rich disease. Too much of a good thing is bad. To do without the bare-bones essentials. Those fellow creatures that have less than zero.
Dior, Gucci, and the other high-end luxury players cater to the lifestyles of the rich and powerful. Dior has a perfume called Filthy Rich. The scent of old money, with a hint of leather and a whiff of cocaine. They could sell raw sewage in a plastic spray bottle and still come up smelling like shitty roses. The rich have poor taste. They’ll buy anything with a designer label slapped on it.
They buy indiscriminately overpriced crap and think they’re better for the obscene amount they pay. It’s a royal scam. The richest man on earth, poised to become the first trillionaire, is no genius. I wonder if he wears Filthy Rich toilet water sourced from the sweat and tears of the slaves who labor at his South African emerald mines. He bought the recent presidential election for the smelliest man in the world. Then he got stiffed. Screwed by the very same scum that he helped put in office. From the White House to the outhouse. It stinks.