Some kind of Relief

I've had it.

I thought the world had grown up somewhat.
I come from a time and place that says substance is more important than cost, and the merits of the person are always taken into consideration before where it is that they are coming from.

Welcome to the new aristocracy. I'll be fucked if I let any shit like this get around to me. I don't care if you live in a motherfucking box on the street. If you've made something of yourself, you're fucking gold. A homeless man with a sense of humour beats a vapid mogul's kid any time during any day. A kid from a poor family who has the skills and the charisma to bend a country to his knee shouldn't be held back on the account that he only has five thousand in the bank.

A scruffy ruffian who's given his heart to the lady of his life shouldn't have to put up with this... archaic bullshit that should've been buried in the feudal period. Who cares if he looks like shit? Who cares if he smells like engine oil all the time? He's busting his ass off to make his way in the world, and maybe make life a little easier for someone important to him. I fail to see how it makes him any lesser of a person than some rich, motherfucking snob who carts around in a limo and eats oysters off a hooker's ass.

Jesus Conrad, some of the shit I see, I swear I just want to take out the torch and not stop until barbeques are out of fashion.

I'm feeling better already. Time for some sleep.