First of all, I reminded Fred about my position on the high rent we’ve been paying. I say we bail, and stick it to the landlady, to whom I have no loyalty. There is as much as a 23% vacancy rate in Broward County and no way should we pay a penny more because she figured to speculate over our backs. Here is a photo of a place we could have gotten for half what we pay here.I know if Fred leaves, it means bankruptcy. A new convenience store with a full liquor sale license opened up down the road, putting the screws to the Haitian market next door to us. That same Haitian opened a restaurant on Dixie around the corner and that is going under. I believe the landlady overextended her credit on some other property and needs us to meet her payments. Few things would please me more than seeing someone like that forced go back to work to pay her bills. See how she likes it.
Who recalls the Friendly Inn? Seems it was not friendly enough to the staff, the patrons and the entertainment. That’s correct, the joint is belly-up so bad there isn’t even a for rent sign in the window. This is one of the places I volunteered to play for free back in early 2007, actually to play for tips. It had a real stage and a larger following than Jimbos. But the owner was a cantankerous old Canadian who counted the quarters from the jukebox. He put an Internet computer in the corner, then he’d let one gambler monopolize it playing the pony game all day. Maybe he’s learned a lesson about having real entertainment, but then, being a Canadian, probably he didn’t. I know, for I worked with Canadians for almost 15 years.
The Cocaine Cowboy is not fairing well, the word on the street is that he has advanced liver cancer. Can’t make it up the front stoop of his million-dollar mansion. The question on everybody’s mind is where did he hide the money? This is the dude that, when he was caught, had $135 million buried in garbage bags in his back yard. I was wondering why things were so quiet the last few months. Well, it won’t him another minute buy, but he is the spiteful type that would rather let it rot.
The job situation is not happening in North Carolina. It lagged a little behind Florida before the entire mid-paying jobs dried up. That’s the jobs paying $15 to $25 per hour that afforded a minimally decent lifestyle for the frugal. When there are no such jobs left, it doesn’t make sense to put down roots. Thus, when Theresa called this morning, the premise seems to be that she moves back down here. Wilmieville is only a 12 hour bus ride away, which means Greyhound can do it in 24 hours. But don’t dare complain at their terminal, they have zero-tolerance for complainers. That means if you complain, they throw you out. Typical.
