Satire | Economy

I’m Keeping the American Dream Alive for You!

While mine is flushed away

Covid shot me straight to the unemployment line. I moved into my old man’s basement in hopes of catching retrograde amnesia but learned it’s not contagious. Like Orin Scrivello, Pops incessantly drilled me with Italian Guilt 101 until I was as limp as the sucky spaghetti Aunt Maria made.

Marone! When you getting job? Per l’amor di Cristo, you thirty-two! I make honest living as plumber for 40 years. Not good enough for you? Mister Bigshot go to college. Spanish? What’s dat? You already talk Italian! You shoulda stayed with Irene!

I remained silent about my bullshit Spanish degree and 3-month marriage to Irene Benedetto, my date at the senior prom. She said I knocked her up. Her mother was ecstatic about having a grandkid but still sent Ice Pick Nunzio to kill me. I escaped after I spied Irene stuffing a pillow under her blouse. She confessed — she just wanted to get out of the Bronx with a college man.

Now Irene lives in Manhattan with her husband Rico. She hit the mega jackpot for a billion in 2020. They have like 40 or 50 kids.

I was depressed and ready to inhale gas, but Pops only had helium. On the weekends, he sells cartoon balloons in town. Then Joey B was elected and the light from the crack in the kitchen door shone upon me like a stella nel cielo.

The ambiguous they said unemployment dropped from 13% to 3%. My crap degree landed me a translator job with a company that starts with the letter A.

I leased a sweet apartment. My high school buddy Noah Josephson, who was good at math, told me to go crazy and buy shit because the CPI has never been this low. Made no sense but okay. I went to Costco and glommed onto 50 pounds of ribeyes for 8 bucks a pound. Cars were free — no interest. I leased an Alfa Romeo for 600/month. With mortgage rates so low, maybe a house in a couple of years?

I met Cindy on eHarmony. She had just been hired as a regional manager for the largest drugstore chain in the country — starts with the letter W. We were making bank, watching our American dream unfold during trips to Mexico and Bali. As a weed enthusiast, I convinced Cindy to go to Amsterdam. It was on my bucket list.

Pops was pissed about everything I was doing. He wouldn’t lighten up. Every Wednesday at 11:30 p.m., he’d call to yell at me.

Abasta! Don’t be a jadrool! You gonna end up broke, a poveretto, like Uncle Tony who wash money for the ‘Ndrangheta. Stugots thought he was the Sicilian Al Capone. Now, he wash clothes on Rikers Island.

I’d just point the phone at Jimmy Kimmel. I could see the look in his eyes whenever Pops got to him.

They said the economy was cooking and time was money. I heard Snoop Dogg made tons by investing in monkey pictures from The Bored Ape Yacht Club NFT. At first, I thought it was a movie sequel, but Noah said it was some hot crypto art but way out of my price range. He said he heard about a something similar called Phanta Bear NFT. He told me to Check it out, but don’t get over-leveraged.

Apes, bears — what’s the difference? Screw the Yacht Club, I’ll ride the gravy train on top of Yogi and Winnie the Pooh. I was a wrestler in high school and leverage was a good thang!

Then, in the blink of a quark, they said the economy overheated and was going to hell!

What’s overheated? Nonna’s Chevy Vega overheated like a mutha!

They said the economy was expanding at an unsustainable rate. There were too many people with jobs. Huh? Demand for stuff was out of control. Huh, huh? People had too much dough to spend? Banks were making loans faster than speeding bullets? Inflation was going through the roof?

The R word started spewing from they mouths, the same they that gave me back my American Dream two months ago. Recession? What’s that? The hair on my dome is in a recession, but that’s hereditary.

I had no clue as to what any of this meant. How do you go from cooking to spontaneously combusting overnight? Noah said,

The price of everything will skyrocket. People will pay their rent with credit cards and drown in debt. There’ll be loads of bankruptcies. The Fed will raise interest rates to the sky. Once enough people are laid off, things should cool down and then start to cook again.

WTF? The Fed? Sounds like a sneaky organization designed to control the world!

Sorta. The Fed is seven unelected tools who claim to be economy experts. Think of it this way, a year ago you could buy a 400K house for $1,500 a month. Today, you’ll pay double because the economy is too good.

Trying to appear as if I understand, I ask, How’s high unemployment, inflation, and high interest rates a good thang, my brutha?

Who do I look like, Nostradamus? I’m tellin ya what they said. I’m just a bookkeeper for 3 taco shops my brother-in-law owns in Schenectady. I only know how to cook his books.

Next, I’m laid off — fired. The A company replaced its translators with ChatGPT, Inteligencia Artificial en Español.

The Alpha was repo’d. Mr. Landlord evicted me. The friggin’ bears went into perpetual hibernation and lost 99% of their body weight. I’ve got credit card debt up the ass and no place to put my Ben Affleck bathroom rug.

My world turned Orwellian.

High unemployment — bad. Not so high unemployment — good. Too high employment — very bad.

Low interest — good but then bad. Fed won’t let me buy a house — really bad.

NYSE down — bad. The NYSE during inflation, high interest rates, and national calamity is at a record high — good! I have no stock — bad.

Eggs, meat, bread, cheese, lettuce, and coffee are out of my price range. Cereal is too rich for my blood. I’m working with sugar, tortillas, white rice, and bologna to hone my culinary skills and win 10K on Chopped.

Cindy and I are history. She was laid off/fired from the W drugstore chain. It shuttered 150 stores. However, she did move up — to the attic of her mom’s house. Her old room was already rented out.

And me? I’m in Pop’s basement keeping the American Dream alive for you.

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