True Story©... Checking In On Reality

 

    The cooler it gets outside, the fewer times a week I have to leave my house.  These things are proportional...  I will be back outdoors sometime around March.  At this point, I am up to "put on pants"-level going outside about three times a week...  Four if I am doing the Band Booster Dad thing.  Being stuck-but-not-stuck in the house reveals to me the fact that I am back on actually answering unknown numbers again, as we have discussed at length once in the past.
[Phlip note: Wife Person™ saw me actually do that shit week before last!]

    I guess I can refrain from making this lead-in any longer than it needs to be and g'head and just say it.

My phone rang...

Me: "Hello?"

Caller: "I heard you battled Smoak."

Me: "Ex--...  excuse me?  Whodis?"

Caller: "Jericcho--..."

Me: "JIGGABOO JACKSON!!!"

Jericho: "I'm trying to put that behind me, man."

Me: "Everything on the internet is forever homie."

Jericho: "So you battle rapping now?  What happened to 'take up a trade, learn to weld'?"

Me: "I know how to weld, for the record...  Learned in 2001.  My personal trade of choice is lawn care and I do that on the side of my full-time job.  I am doing pretty well."

Jericho: "You sold me a dream."

Me: "I ain't sell you shit, I presented you a reality you weren't ready to face."

Jericho: "You know how much that welding certificate is?"

Me: "I got mine as a part of a whole 'nother program in 2001, but when I looked last month while talking to a high school senior, it was almost sixteen hundred dollars."

Jericho: "And welders only make like thirty five an hour?  Fuck tha--..."

Me: "You spit in the face of seventy three grand a year as if the median HOUSEHOLD income in Greensboro isn't like sixty five grand already?"

Jericho: "And I'm sayin, that ain't no bread neither!"

Me: "How much did you make on your mixtape?"

Jericho: "Why that matter?"

Me: "Round number."

Jericho: "None of your business."

Me: "I would bet ALL of my yard money I'll make in 2026 that it is less than that 73k you just shit on over the entirety of the two-ish years you been in my life."

Jericho: "That's why I ain't rapping no more."

Me: "You're clearly not welding either."

Jericho: "I started a firearms enthusiasts club for African Americans, we me--..."

Me: "... what the fuck."

Jericho: "We meet on Saturdays.  I also sell t-shirts."

Me: "I'm afraid to ask, but what do you CALL this endeavor."

Jericho: "Blick Lives Matter!"

Me: "I'm sorry, WHAT!?"

Jericho: "Y'know, like my old mixtape...  'blick' is what we call guns on the street and in the studio."

Me: "Do you know why?"

Jericho: "Nah, I just know that's what they call them."

Me: "Ever heard of onomatopoeia?"

Jericho: "What the shit is that?"

Me: "Nevermind...  So I am guessing that the shirts will be the biggest money maker in this situation, right?"

Jericho: "Yes."

Me: "And how much are you selling them for?"

Jericho: "Thirty dollars."

Me: "How much are you PAYING for your thirty dollar shirts?"

Jericho: "Ten"

Me: "Assuming you don't value your time, we'll call that other twenty your 'profit'.  Do you know how many shirts you'd have to sell to make 73k?"

Jericho: "How many?"

Me: "Three thousand, six hundred and fifty.  Or ten EVERY day without ever taking a day off on average."

Jericho: "Shit."

Me: "While laying out thirty six and a half thousand just for the privilege."

Jericho: "What?"

Me: "Ten a shirt out, twenty back...  You pay 36.5 and make 73."

Jericho: "Wait..."

Me: "Or your dumb ass could have gone to GTCC and paid 1589 and walk out into that 73k while only having to work five days a week."

Jericho: "But--..."

Me: "But a nine to five  is for 'lames' right?"

Jericho: "Well--...  yeah."

Me: "Lames get days off and healthcare insurance.  Lames can buy houses and cars without elaborate schemes so as to not trigger the IRS."

Jericho: "What you sayin'?"

Me: "I thought your head was getting straight when you wrote that pamphlet and called it a book."

Jericho: "Hmm?"

Me: "But it seems you've just regrouped and redefined the ignorance."

Jericho: "Wait wait...  So nevermind that.  You gave Smoak them bars, you tryna set something up?  We could both kill it on streaming numbers."

Me: "I am not a rapper, and you shouldn't be."

Jericho: "C'mon, man!  You know you trying to see some paper!"

Me: "With a fake rap beef between two rappers no one has ever heard of?"

Jericho: "Aye, n**gas heard of me!"

Me: "With a fake rap beef between two rappers no one has ever heard of?"

Jericho: "Asshole."

Me: "No thank you...  That 'average' income I named is household, and my wife and I are both bringing in multiple streams, we good around these parts."

Jericho: "C'mon, man, I thought you was about giving ba--..."

    I hung up the damn phone...
Can I write raps?  yes
Do I think I am good at it?  no
Am I willing to trade bars with a worse rapper than I feel I already am in order to gain publicity on the heels of a fake conflict?  fuck no!

    That this man looked at his current income level, compared it to a hypothetical career in a trade with guaranteed employment prospects paying 90% of the median household and 120% of the individual income in the whole nation -- not even just here -- and turned up his nose at it is wild to me.  I mean it is flatly insane that a living that would be comfortable for a single person with no kids that could be FURTHER augmented by a built-in side hustle based on the skill level alone looks like a 'bad' idea to people of a certain mindset when compared to failing at rapping or selling.

If you'll excuse me, my lame ass will be clocking in at 730am and paying these bills like a responsible adult.