Hey folks, Fred the Tuckpointer here. Things have been terrible lately…and if you guessed its Obama’s fault, you win the prize. It all started while I was reading Brad the College Idiots’s latest rant and mockery of American values. Richie called: the “stimulus” money finally ran out, so the tuckpointing gig at the Terminal Tower is over. Kaput. No more tuckpointing. I thought the Porkulous package was supposed to create or SAVE jobs that were already there? So the economy is still sputtering, and while it was nice to make some nice, fat tuckpointing cash for a change, Obama’s plan has failed miserably and I’m out of a job. Again.
We’re luckier than most – Sadie’s teaching job covers most of the major bills like the mortgage and my medical debt. Still, a man’s got to work and provide for his family, and I’m not about to switch to Pabst again. Its either Great Lakes Beer or nothing.
Problem is, because Obama interfered with the Market, there’s no jobs for me in the Cleveland area. Sadie tried to get me to write up a resume, but that’s stupid – I’ve never had a job that I couldn’t just fill out an application for. That’s the way it should be: you fill out the paper, they hire you and you work for awhile, then you buy the business and you’re set. Anyway, I went around to Home Depot, a couple of gas stations, even the golf course where my old man works…nothing. No jobs. Not even an interview. Last night I was giving the bad news to Sadie, when she told me I should file for unemployment insurance. Which is welfare. ‘Cause Rush says so.
So here’s the pickle, if you will…if I chuck my pride and head down to the unemployment office, they’ll give me a check and I can sit at home being lazy like everyone else. That’s the way Obama wants it to be, so that he can declare himself dictator and make me a slave. Uh-uh. Not going to happen. That’s the Liberal way to go, and I’m no pussy Liberal. Let some other douchebag plead for help – I’m a real man, and I don’t need help or anything. We got some land in the backyard I can farm, and I bet I can teach our dog Bernie Kosar how to hunt and kill deer or something. And I’ll put fliers in everyone’s mailbox on the street asking if they need their house tuckpointed. ‘Cause that’s what I do and that’s who I am. A Tuckpointer.
Listen, I gotta run. Sadie just opened the mail and she’s pissed because I bought Browns season tickets again. Also, I’m a couple of months behind on the F150 payments, and we need some groceries. My buddy Don‘s heading to the unemployment office to get his check now that they’re starting up again, but…you know. He may need some help with the paperwork. Ol’ Don’s not too swift. So…anyway. Things will pick up eventually. Till next time, Fred the Tuckpointer signing off.