Pity the Rich

Those poor little rich folk.

They can’t go to dive bars, or downtown Juarez. They’ll never know the joys of thrift store shopping, of finding that vintage jacket that fits just right, or cowboy boots that are already broken in.

If they go to a ballgame, they have to ride their private elevator up to their private box, where they eat their chili dogs with forks.

(Do you reckon the owners of MountainStar Sports Group go to every Chihuahuas home game? 71 games a year? Will they go to all 19 soccer games? That’s 90 games. That’s like house arrest. Like a sentence a judge might hand down for embezzling $200 from the Girl Scout cookie fund.)

Those rich folk are insulated. In fact, they’ve insulated a lot of the fun out of their lives. And the only way they know to get it back is to make the taxpayers build them more luxury skyboxes.

Those poor little rich folk. And the poor little taxpayers that support them.


  1. We both know they don’t give a rat’s ass about any sporting event, other than to count the dollars they themselves can make from it. As for insulation, we also know they prefer to never come into contact with the hoi polloi, except at the collection window.

  2. Sometimes they want to mingle, but then a judge issues a court order banning him from the Tap…

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