Brief conversation overheard in the supermarket Express Checkout lane on December 13th, 2006, at roughly 5:23 P.M. between a middle-aged gentleman wearing baggy shorts, a stained Washington Wizards T-shirt, a sweaty Harris Paints cloth cap and sneakers with no socks and a middle-aged woman wearing a fuschia blouse missing the fourth button, white shorts that bulged, sandals and hair the color a carrot isn't.
He: "I don't like the sales tax."
She: "Neither do I!"
He: "Who's idea was it? How much more do they want to take from us?"
She: "You know what bothers me? That they live it up while we have to scratch for everything. They don't know what we go through!"
He: "They're all guilty of treating us like slaves. (It) makes me think of moving to Orlando.
She: "I want to move, too. My sister lives close to Disney (World.)"
The man watches as his groceries are scanned. He pays with a PAN card, the Food and Nutrition program run with Federal funds by the local Department of Family Services. He takes out the full 25% portion of the monthly allotment he's allowed to in cash.
The woman does the same thing.
The next I see them, they are buying local "Loto" tickets. He buys $30.00 in tickets; she buys $20.00.
"Someone has to win, right?" she says to him.
He nods and pushes his cart out the door.
It dawns on Me that gambling with Uncle Sam's money is a win-win situation...
The Jenius Has Spoken.