DEATH OF A WORKING BOY!

As I pack up the Peanuts characters and photos that have come to become constant companions over the past few years, I am confronted with the harsh reality of unemployment and all it entails. Ever the optimist however I am determined and confident in my ability to create a new, more powerful persona that is hellbent on getting what he deserves consequences, friends, family, legal restrictions be damned. Luckily, I have already begun to refine and enhance some of the finer points of my new persona. A persona so inherently “me” and brilliant, I’m embarrassed I didn’t think of it sooner. For you see, Working Boy is but a small supernova of gaseous brilliance soon to be replaced by the magnificient blackhole that is....The Renaissance Urban Sportsman (TRUS).

What is an TRUS you ask? Well, quite simply, he’s man who has a closet full of ties and sports jackets that he wears while sitting behind the mirrored glass of an OTB site with an unlit Swisher Sweet in one hand and a hand full of racing stubs in the other. That’s right TRUS plays the ponies.

You see, I’ve always wanted to try my hand at a gambling addiction ever since a dirty chipped tooth bar jockey told me all about the exciting world of “win” “place” and “show.” Not only that, but when I learned most of the people who spend their summer days inside a smoke filled and cluttered room watching tv screens were old, lonely men and hobos, I knew I would feel right at home. I even have a strategy: bet on the horse that will win.

Of course, TRUS won’t just spend his days in the luxury boxes of Wells and Randolph. Oh no, he’s smarter than that. He’ll be smart enough to know when the horse creatures aren’t going to cut it. When the, uh, spur isn’t, um, spurring. And on those days he’ll sit in his apartment and day trade on the margins.

Of course, day trading is a tricky species but if you know what you’re doing you’re guaranteed to make lots of money really fast with little to no risk. The plan is simple: Buy in big on margins and sell high minutes later and then retire to a plush condo in Rogers Park overlooking the lake and jewish delis.

Working Boy: Who do you think you are?
The Renaissance Urban Sportsman: Just the greatest thing ever.
W.B: You’re so attractive and confident.
TRUS: Am I? I guess it just comes naturally. Naturally like the women I now attract like bees to fresh mountain honey.
W.B: Wow.
TRUS: Oh yeah. You have a lot to learn Working Boy. Come take my hand and I’ll tell you all the latest gossip from the Wednesday afternoon library crowd.
W.B: Why didn’t I think of all this sooner?
TRUS: Because the man was getting you down.