Originally Posted by
zombicidal
What got your bitch ass pussy in a tangle? Lemme guess, you went to Hot Topic and they were all out of Team Jacob shirts, right? Or did you call in your favorite pop radio station and they wouldn't play Cheers by Rhianna? Me and the ex-wife once had sex to an entire Rhianna album, so I can't hate too much. Best sex ever was every bitch after that. Mother fucker, do you even know what money is?
Lemme lay it down for you flat like your bitch's ass. Ok... so, back in the old days people had shit on their hands. They'd make shit, they'd grow shit, they'd build shit. Some people would have more of one kind of shit than another. So they all traded and bartered shit. But that's not the best system. If you want fresh bananas and all you got are some hemp necklaces, and the guy with the bananas don't want no necklace, you're screwed. So one day somebody decided to invent currency. Y'know, gold and precious stones and shit. Y'know why? Because of the bitches. Men were just fine picking up fist sized rubies, staring mindlessly at them whilst stone, and then chucking them at someone's head. But the bitches wanted them for keeps and shit. So everyone agreed on that, and gold ended up becoming the standard. You trade your hemp necklaces for gold, then buy some bananas. Of course, it doesn't end there. You, being a dumb fuck you are, decide to steal the gold. And since you're Irish, you somehow manage to succeed. Well now... you don't want your freshly stolen gold to get stolen, do you? Of course not! So when some nice man tells you that he has a vault and some body guards and will gladly watch your gold for you, you take him up on that offer. Because hey! It's a bank. You give him your gold, and you get an IOU of that price. And since that IOU represents the gold in the bank, it's as good as gold, and thus... paper money. Money... but in paper form.
But then the guy at the bank decides to print out some more IOUs, but without the money to back it up. In America, this has been happening for over a hundred years. So all those fat stacks of cash you snagged off of photobucket and then used Paint to tag your name because you're not fooling anybody... yeah, shit's worthless. It's not even good for toilet paper.
Now, my abilities to disassemble and reassemble most firearms, to treat bullet and explosion wounds, survive in hospitable climates, handle oneself in a firefight, and all that MMA training mixed with everything else I've picked up over the years... well, my son. That shit is priceless. I can actually give that shit to my kids and grandkids. In case you haven't noticed, a dollar bill today will be worth less than a penny tomorrow.
You. Bitch. Puss.
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