Wishful Thinking

Damn, I had it all planned out. So much for wishful thinking.

My plan began to take shape about a year ago.

"America is nearing a recession."

I figured, according to my knowledge of the machine that is the USA., that this meant stock market crash was imminent. Subsequently, anything based around our currency was bound to follow down the tubes. The job market, housing, value of the American dollar globally, the entire microcosm that we'd all came to know & love would be on it's back, flailing it's lifeless limbs like a cockroach on it's last ticks.

In turn, society as it were would be up for grabs. The bottom-feeders would now be on a leveled playing field with the well-to-doers & the lucky-if-they-got-it's. Organized confusion, if you will. Not being one of the wealthy would finally come in handy, like being the first guy in a soup kitchen line.

Fortunately, my tax bracket fell in somewhere between "too much" & "not enough"; mid-middle class extraordinaire.

Just as the getting appeared ready to be gotten, word spread of a new, deadlier strand of the flu heading out of Mexico with a vengeance, called the Swine Flu. After a few days of fearing for my children's lives, & the contamination rate beginning to soar, I saw my opportunity to seize the moment broaden. Alas, my plan began to gain momentum.

The way I saw it, rich people love to vacation, right? Jumping in & out of airplanes, jetting off to unknown islands where the only inhabitants were witch doctors & savages. At some point, they would have no choice but to come across some unlucky schlub who unknowingly had this sickness.

With any luck, they'd catch it one night while dining on open fire-roasted pig & machete sliced pineapple shards. Then, they'd carry it back to their sprawling golf courses & fancy jacuzzi parties, further infecting douche bag after douche bag. After that, they'd return to their plush villa's, coughing & sneezing rudely in the faces of the help. The help would then take it home to their husbands, who work at the car washes that the rich people get their million dollar chariots primped & primed for the next board room meeting. At this rate, they'd all be dead in a matter of months. From the rich, to the poor, & back to rich; so on & so forth.

This is where the middle class raises up, bearing arms like the gays when California voted no on same sex marriages. Without all the high-pitched yelling & open-toed sandals.

The jobs would be ours for the taking. The money earned from those newly available labors could be used to purchase property, creating a new rung on the ladder of hierarchy. The common man would now strike back & regain it's respect.

But wouldn't you know it.

President Obama made good on all his promises. Thus, avoiding the biggest economic downturn of all times. & just as that turmoil leveled off, the swine flu turned out to be a distant, less aggressive cousin of the traditional flu. It even killed LESS people than the regular flu did last year. Two massive bummers in less than a month.

So, regardless of wishful thinking, I'm still stuck between "too much" & "not enough". I could almost taste the success. & it tasted like everything on the McDonald's 99 cents menu.