Social parasites

I realize my anger will sound like nothing short of a rant, especially to those bleeding heart imbeciles who actually sympathize with the Toronto Transit Commission employees.

But thanks guys for making me miss my lunch date with my Grandmother. I realize you have a hard life when you're making roughly twice what I am or more and trying to get by. I realize how hard it is to sit on your ass all day trying to collect tickets. $26 an hour just isn't right. It must be so hard dealing with angry customers all day face-to-face. I mean you have to deal with unruly customers, unlike all those losers who work for minimum wage! You should get a raise! Wait, you did but turned it down. Ah, shucks. Out of the blue, people can't rely on you. Now they have to drive home on a Friday night. Yeah one or two people might die in drunk driving accidents, but that's beside the point isn't it? I mean, the economy's bad, how's anyone supposed to live off a TTC salary? I'd write more supporting you guys, but I have to get up early and call my Grandmother and tell her I won't be around tomorrow afternoon. Scumbags.

Bob Snider

Last night I saw Bob Snider at the Free Times Cafe here in Toronto. He doesn't get credit for being the songwriting genius he is. He's definitely the most underrated songwriter I know of. His words are genius. I'll even go out on a really big limb and say there's a possibility he's the best songwriter Canada has. But I wrote a poem about last night.

Bob Snider
The ink bleeds blue
all the way through
this book with a 30 cent pen
found on a shelf at Honest Ed's.
And there's a bookstore with the family name.
Tonight I saw a genius among men.
His body and face would give other ideas.
One may see him and say,
"sorry no change,"
though the book displaying his genius
is available in the store with the Mirvish namesake.
I saw the man in a Jewish cafe tonight.
Bob Snider was his folksy self.
Thrilled he could share his genius with those who cared.
I hadn't enough money for his book.
A beautiful woman wearing a tattooed sleeve,
a beautiful woman, seemingly in and out
told me to go to the point of the books purchase,
which is across the street
from where the point of this pen began.
She offered to share her fortune cookie.
She loved fortunes and hated cookies.
I had my own fortune,
but I can't find it right now.