He was reading the financial news on the computer. From his 2th floor one bedroom apartment overlooking a Wall Mart parking lot, the view was as nice as it could be on a rainy day. Some weekend! Since he had woke up, everything was wrong. And now this!
On some article over Bank of America's future prospects, Lulu had authored one comment that he was now rereading.
“Bank of America will continue to be the CROOKS they are with or without Countrywide. Bank of America is an evil unethical bank that is being run by a greedy, heartless crew. They will have their day.
They are Financial Terrorists! They are racketeering and no one is doing anything about it. These criminals need prison and nothing less. Let them whine all they want after they have fraudulently made huge amounts of money off of the backs of helpless homeowners.”
What foolish nonsense!
At that, he had to reply something. He was even invited to do so. All he had to do was click on that very same word to make appear one box and then, silly Lulu could get it all.
So, he wrote back:
“What's wrong with you Lulu? Banks are terrorists? I would think that people in this country would know better about terrorism and not use the word in vain, like to describe collecting debts from creative failure debtors. So, banks gave money to some who should not have got it in the first place? Like me loaning 2000.00$ to a windshield washing guy at some street corner? I do that and if, naive that I am, I do ask for my money back, I am call a terrorist by the likes of you? USA financials institutions did act foolishly a few years back but that was largely our politician's fault and their fancy to give easy access to property for the greatest possible number. This was nice, looked nice, felt nice and like all fairy tales, was too good to be true. But when prices imploded, better know why and how it happened. It happened because individuals bought homes that they could not afford and because of them, I mean their undesirable presence in the market, at inflated prices. I know a terrorist when I see one. Can you?”
When he was finished, he signed his real name beside his post.
Michael Carpa.
Things had been put straight. He felt better, now. He felt like he was somebody important. It was a good feeling.
Monday, he got to work at Enzo’s barber shop. He had inherited the place from his father. Back home, at night, wanting to reread his sage criticism of Lulu idiotic opinion, he was very upset when he saw the responses that his post had gotten him. They were so many that he could not count them.
- “Fascist pig!”
- “One BAC bankruptcy, one less thieving bank to worry about, can you get that, ass kisser?”
- “Arrogant bastard!”
- “Capitalist flunkey!”
- “What a sorry asshole you are, Carpa!”
And Lulu herself had written:
- “You poor shmuck! You pitiful white trash nobody that you most probably are. You are just a monkey mimicking the rich.”
The last, he had to admit, described him pretty well. He had enough sense to realise that.
Maybe Lulu was not so bright in economic but she was certainly quite good at judging people.
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