Mr. Rivers
Wassup.
I am writing to you on my brand new Sony laptop, which is real dope. I could barely make enough money at my broke ass job to afford the Internet café, but I won't even bore you with that. Check out what I did!
Ladies and gentlemen, I have figured out how to make some serious coin on the subway. Let me spell it for you. T-E-E-M-Work. Some glass-half-empty types call me a bum-pimp, but what I am doing is creating a union for the have-nots. We’ll have benefits, and paychecks, and hookers, but that’s later, when we’re showing a profit and shit. I'll even rent that blowup rat and put it on the 6 train for a day if I find some dingy bum panhandling on the Lexington Avenue line without letting me know about it. No scabs in THIS subway, boy. All I ask for is 2% of earnings and in return, you're a Union Man! Know what I'm sayin'?
The 6 Train, otherwise
known as the "Home Office"
First off, I rounded up all the fellas offering hungry people a sandwich or a drink. You know the ones who say “I was homeless, and now I’m offering food to the hungry” and you think to yourself, “what a nice man” until you look up and they’re all scary looking. And I’m talking about the sandwiches, before you get the wrong idea. So I went around, and I said to them, listen up yo, noone's eatin that piece of shit sandwich, not least from a crusty old looking guy like you. At least wrap the shit in a Subway sandwich wrapper or something. Make 'em perceeve that it's a tasty fuckin' sandwich, even if it's a raw burger patty, a green pepper slice, and a bunch of ketchup on a coupla old wonder bread slices. And noone wants to take a swig off your 2-liter of RC Cola when they're thirsty. Know what I'm sayin'? Offer the subway riders a frosty 7-Up or something. A toothpick and a mint wouldn’t hurt either, but that’s for laterz, when we've established ourselves, gotten a brand name and shit.
Then, I cracked the battery sellers. It's long been a standoff between the Asians who sell you the duracells, or the loud toys that break the instant they touch a howlie's hands, and God knows what else - and the brothers, who sell the fake duracells which make people say "aw shit, fuckin' con artist" in their brain but their mouths go "thank you, sir." Know what I'm sayin'? Anyway, I took one for the Sino-Brotha team by puttin’ em to work with each other. I'm a marketing man by nature, and my research reveeled that the asians had the access to the real batteries, but that customers preferred dealing with the brothers. Yo, check this out. I got them all together and I said, if you work in teams of two, one handling the cash and the other making the sales pitch, you're bound to double your money. It's working real well so far; sales are through the roof and we've discontinued selling the robots that make a lot of noise. Fuckin' time wasters, those things. We gave em to some little kids charity, and a bunch of letters from the charity have been coming by registered mail. I’m assuming they’re just thank-you letters, so I’ve been throwin’ em out. Thank you's is not why I am in this business.
So now that I got the food folks, and the battery sellers all lined up, I axed myself, what next? The singers! So I had an open tryout last week. I called it Subway Idle. Man I wish I got that shit on tape. If it wasn't horrible, it was hilarious. The winners would get free outfits, a free backup boombox, and a charming little 5 year old girl (my half-sister's kid) for a week to solicit bigger donations from the straphangers. It went over reaaaaal well. This beatbox kid, real fat, former M&M seller gone "vocal" as he likes to call it, beat out this Hasidic guy in a deputy's uniform and this Hipster for the title. It was b-e-a-YOO-tiful man!
The runner-up, absorbing
the fact that he'd lost
I’m presentin’ my bizness plan to the MTA next week. I call it “food, commerce, entertainment – the subway ride of the 21st centurie”. I figure if I throw the MTA a bone or two, that second avenue line will get done quicker and I’ll have a new “line” of business, know what I’m sayin’? If approved, look for the peeps in the dark red t-shirts entertainin’, sellin’ and reprazentin’ on a car near you!
Peace, yo.
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