Kids will Always Find a Way to Die

My friend Jerry was the first guy I knew to blow the dorm tenements of NYU and shack up in his own bang studio at this old brownstone on the north end of Tribeca. This was a fifth-floor walk-up on like Laight and Hudson – just four walls and toilet with a shoddy heating unit that either blew too hot and stank like hobo piss or didn’t work at all. The floor was littered with like cigarette butts, caved in Budweiser cans, and sweat-slick Hostess wrappers from Ho Hos, Twinkies, or whatever the fuck he lived on there for the three years he squatted between freshman year until he got the boot just before graduation. He had this little blue-eyed Cornish Rex that used to creep around eating garbage off the floor and drinking from the toilet. I loved that place.

After like a year, Jerry’s pisshole apartment was the spot. Friday nights, weekdays after class – we used this fake ID he swiped from his half-brother and were able to pack his little Igloo compact with an entire 30-pack of Budweiser. His two square feet of pantry space was a boneyard of empty Ketel One bottles and half-drunk liters of Jose Cuervo. As the years dragged on, the parties got more and more out of hand. The cops were called on a few occasions. Once I had to go with him, hat-in-hand to this old Armenia slum lord and help explain how the apartment ended up in two feet of toilet water.

The last party he ever threw, probably the biggest, we had a Rubbermaid washtub filled with two gallons of Everclear and enough Gatorade to douse the coaching staff of D3 football squad. This was in the heat of an NYC August so I spent most of the night out on his smoking deck, drinking tequila sours and trying to fuck this freshman bio major I met in a chemistry lab the week prior. The night went on longer than I can remember. I know I was back at NYU passed out in the union when I got the call. There was a dead lacrosse team jock face down in the bowl of Jerry’s toilet – he needed a place to crash while they fished him out.

Moral of this story: Kids are always going to get their hands on shit they aren’t supposed to have and kill themselves with it – Wal-mart (WMT), Dicks (DKS), Kroger (KR), I’m talking to you. I know it’s no longer hip to sell firearms to kids under 21 and you gotta do what you gotta do. I get you’re trying to shut down this new-left PC and outrage mob and dodge boycott season, but good luck with the death tolls. This is America after all.

To all of you vying for skin in the game, don’t do anything stupid like shorting the gun market over this. It opened up this morning flatter than Kansas asphalt: Wally World (WMT) up next to nothing at .06 points, Dicks (DKS) and Kroger (KR) around the same 05. and .20 points respectively.

Make no mistake, the citizens of this country will always get their hands on whatever the fuck they want them on, they will always kill each other with firearms, and will always die doing dumb shit. Buy buy buy, kids. Sell high, and don’t short, dummies.

The rest of the market faired about the same, coming off the worst month on Wallstreet in the last two years. If you gave up drinking for lent, good luck.

The Dow opened up just over 25k again this morning, but there wasn’t shit happening off the bell. Visa (V) and Nike (NKE) having maybe the best morning, both of them up like a half point. Big whoop.

S&P went from green to red then back to green with the cadence of a midnight stoplight. No telling where this day is going. Probably nowhere.

Big tech is down, but not by more than a twitch. Facebook (FB) and Amazon (AMZN) both down half a point. Microsoft (MSFT) down .74 points.

I’m going back to bed.

 

 

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