A fat little man wearing a white fedora and trench coat steps out of the shadows. He hobbles up to a podium located in the town center with his all oak cane and freshly lit marijuana cigarette . With bloodshot eyes the man stares strangely into the crowd. Eyes popped open as if he had someone biting his genitalia from under the podium, he smirks and lets out a audible cry. 

Hello my fellow mobsters, how are we doing today?

Crickets begin chirping as the confused crowd is left speechless by the sight. 

That's great! I'm actually here today because I want to address something I find rather amusing. What could this be you ask? Well it's quite simple. The other day I over heard a man complaining about his pockets being touched in an inappropriate manner. No i'm not talking about the time you allowed your cousin to play hospital in the loft of your grandfathers barn during your family reunion. Actually this fellow was complaining because funds of his he had gathered throughout the week were taken while he was in a crowded line at the bakery getting his warm bread for that special someone. He slandered the fact that he wasn't able to safely keep hundreds even thousands of dollars in his back pocket without the chance of someone getting greedy. After minutes of listening to this gentlemen whine I slapped him with a trout I found laying at the coffee shop, yes this coffee shop sells fish or even has them laying around. Once his face smelt like a bad scene at the beach, I began to explain to this individual exactly how a bank worked. It went a little something like this:

"You see what you do is you take that there green stuff and coinage, you then take it into this here building, open that there account and place this here slip into the tellers hand and then give that there teller your greenage and coinage and Badaboom!"

As confused as you all may be, trust me this poor soul was even more lost. So I simply dipped his feet in the concrete mix I had so conveniently placed in my basement, then dropped him from the river bank. The point is this, is it really worth complaining about something you have total control over? I mean granted, there will always be those who complain about simplistic shit. For example, "I have been jailbreaking my ass off, I saved tommy the other day yet my boss don't see fit for me to be promoted. All I do is jailbreak jailbreak jailbreak. So much that bubba has a wanted ad placed in his cell because I snatch up all his possible booty calls."

Sound familiar? Pretty senseless huh?  I could go on and honestly this subject has been beaten with a dead horse as well but I still hear it over and over again. It's been a while since my bloodline has REALLY walked these shores. It was in their journals then and it seems it will be in mine once I pass.

The weird looking man takes a hit of his fresh rolled and makes his final statement.

Please use your head and stop with the insanity. My sane self can't take it anymore!

With a big smile and thought of how much fun it was to confuse the hell out of a crowd he steps down while hollering "Drunken Monkey's for life!," and wobbles back into the shadows from once he came. 

LynxX I know, I hear your frustration. I know it can be very monotonous to hear complaints about the same thing time and time again, especially where they are ways to prevent it. Unfortunately we and our ancestors will probably hear it for years to come yet. I guess the best we can do is to continue to try to explain the ways to prevent such an occurrence.

Mari turns to continue on her way down the street when a gentleman runs right into her. The man is walking with a large wooden cane which hits Mari hard in the hand. She feels pain and looks down.

Watch where you are going mister, I just broke a nail!

Mari hates it when she breaks a nail and mutters under her breath about it for a block or two.

Kip listens to what is being said and waits for an opportunity to add some words himself.

 "I am confused. I know it doesn't take a lot to make me this way. If people leave money in their pockets, why do they whine when it gets taken? Why when their pockets are empty do you get a note from them describing how disrespectful you have been and that you should ask permission before you steal from them. I don't get it. If you were going to steal their expensive stash of cubans from their safe when they are tucked up in bed, you wouldn't inform them that was your intention would you?

Kip scratches his head wih total confussion. "Mari, i have som super glue for that nail if you want it. With that Kip steps back and awaits other speakers.