Where is the American Dream?

Since I was 15 I have been searching for the American Dream. I've traveled everywhere from Cornbrooke Ohio to the great deserts of Nevada to the rich urban cities of New York. I've seen the poor dying and sick, and partied with the ignorant and unabashedly obnoxious, I've slept on a wealthy man's yacht with a wealthy man's daughter, and it was all in search of the American Dream. Never once though did I truly find a place where the streets where made of gold, and the wealth of a man was based not on his bank account or what throne he happened to be an heir too but instead on his merits and ambitions and his will to climb the steep ladder of power. And though I did come somewhat close to finding that at times, many places still had chinks in their armor or glaciers yet to climb. This is a story of one those times

See, I dropped out of school at 15, never got my high school diploma or GED or went to college, never once have I felt I would have been better off doing so. Some may call me a street urchin, but I've always found a way to hustle for a little dough, though for the most part I've gotten along just fine without it. You can find people in this world who will help you out, not out of the kindness of their heart, but because of the greed in their soul. I remember one time, I was out in LA, a very bad part of the town too. These people don't just help you out, everyone is suspicious and everyone is working an angle. Sure, that's no different than most parts of this country, but there you work the wrong angle, and it's a sharp knife in your back or a bullet in your heart. I had just arrived, thanks to a big ol' 18 wheeler driver named Lee he picked me up out in Arizona down near Mexico, and brought me into SoCal. I heard some nice things about LA, and had also heard some bad ones, but to my dear ol' sweet American Dream, "where I go your face goes to, to watch lest I play false to you." So I went with nothing but the hope of finding my dear sweet American Dream, little did I know I had her all along. I found my way to Compton, the one NWA wrote about, I wanted to find some niggas with sawed offs and see body's getting hauled off, but that's just not the first thing you do when you go to a town like Compton. No, you head straight to the church; everybody is loving at the church.

There I met a lovely widow named Tamicka whom's husband had been shot in a drive by shooting (I never did ask if he was the target of the shooting, but I assume not). We exchanged pleasantries and talked for a while. I told her that I was new to town, and went to the, "house of the heavenly father," because I was seeking a new beginning, somewhere I could start again, and thought, "here I might meet someone doing the Lord's work who could shelter me just for a few days while I cam to grasp what it means to be a shepherd of God," and of course she agreed not out of the kindness of her heart no, but of the greed in her soul. See I had over the course of an hour or so, began to push her to believe that it was in her best interest to provide me with food and shelter for a few days because it was God's wish. I do of course thank her for the hospitality, but it was not a decision of her own altruism but her own greed thus her desire to keep things right with God. Or perhaps she was simply lonely and I seemed like a person of low risk that could keep her company. Either way it was greed that made her kindness.

Now, I went back to her home and she cooked a lovely dinner, what it was, I have forgotten, but I remember it was quite good. She went to bed early and when I asked her why she quoted Ben Franklin, "Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy wealthy and wise," and then said, "and it does wonders for us women too." She was quite an interesting character; I remember another time, when I had broken a dish she said, "Now, boy don't you go hurting yourself tryin' a clean that there, your clumsy enough having dropped it," which was fine with me I didn't particularly want to clean the mess in the first place. I digress. In search of the American Dream, I had believed, at this time, that it had been outlawed. It was living underground with the criminals and knaves of the world, and that only by watching and learning from them may I resuscitate the spirit of the American Dream, also cocaine was pretty good back then. So after she went to bed, I left the house in search of the American Dream.

I knew little about how to get in touch with criminals back then, but I had some ideas, I went down to a local homeless shelter. It was just a little before 8pm so the place was, as far as I could tell, was full, and the lady at the desk told me I would have to find somewhere else to sleep. If only I could have found a way to explain to this nice young woman that I was only at the homeless shelter because of the networking opportunities it provided, but alas I was at a loss of words that could rationally explain my eager desire to 'network' with these homeless deplorable souls. Fortunately, my luck hadn't run out, as I was leaving the shelter I met a large old roughed up black man in some decrepit jeans and a torn up and worn out jacket. He called himself Cotton-Eyed Joe, because his irises were white which he said was from a, "damn kemikal expowsore in da 80s," caused by "em crazy faktory rats" I had no idea what he meant, but I knew he was my in into the criminal world of LA.

The whole story is rather long, and I think it would best to break it up into pieces. so like this if you want to hear more.