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The Candy Bitch

I make no secret about the fact that I do consider open bloody class war to be an ok way to fix things. “Life is like a stew, you have to stir it frequently, or all the scum rises to the top.”

I felt that way when I lived off $300 a month, $60 of which was for the rent in a pantry in a place known as the Elmer Phud House. But, back in my Phud days, I had this sneaking suspicion that if I ever managed to be one of the lucky ones one day that I would change my tune.

I’m pretty well off now, so I’m actually there. I am on the other side of the fence, and the grass is way fucking greener over here. Yeah, I got problems. We all got problems. But, back when I was scraping by, wondering if I would ever be able to save up enough money for a down payment on a car, much less a house? Those were real problems. Rich people problems are bullshit.

Much to my surprise, I have not changed my tune.

So let me yell to you from this side of the fence. I’ll stand here on that green green grass that my kids are playing bocce on, barely noticing the gardeners who trim it ever so expertly:

You really, really, really should kill us all.

We are disgusting. We spend more money on a car than you do on a house. We spend more on some dinners than you spent on your car. Think about that.

And we, as a group, flip the fuck out any time you might want us to chip in a few extra bucks for the goddamned roads, schools, and bombs. As a group, we can’t stand the thought of food stamps. Damn “welfare queens live better than we do!” Well, that’s what we say. We can not fucking believe it that so many of you idiots believe that, and actually blame each other for your problems.

I could say #notallrichpeople and try and absolve myself. I give a lot of money to charity. I do tons of pro bono work. I’m “one of the good ones!” But nah. You can’t go picking the peas from the goulash. If they let any of us live, they can’t know where the cancer will come from again. They had to kill all the members of the Russian royal family, lest the Romanovs come back. So, its time to just haul out the battering rams and bum rush the gated communities.

We really have reached that point. It is time. Dust off Pol Pot’s playbook.

Because we finally reached the tipping point where it has to happen:

The Candy Bitch.

The Candy Bitch wrote in to “Dear Prudence” looking for advice. Free advice, because why pay her fucking shrink — shrinks are generally considered to be “the help.”

I would summarize it, but then you would think I was lying. Here it is.

Dear Prudence,

I live in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in the country, but on one of the more “modest” streets—mostly doctors and lawyers and family business owners. (A few blocks away are billionaires, families with famous last names, media moguls, etc.) I have noticed that on Halloween, what seems like 75 percent of the trick-or-treaters are clearly not from this neighborhood. Kids arrive in overflowing cars from less fortunate areas. I feel this is inappropriate. Halloween isn’t a social service or a charity in which I have to buy candy for less fortunate children. Obviously this makes me feel like a terrible person, because what’s the big deal about making less fortunate kids happy on a holiday? But it just bugs me, because we already pay more than enough taxes toward actual social services. Should Halloween be a neighborhood activity, or is it legitimately a free-for-all in which people hunt down the best candy grounds for their kids?

—Halloween for the 99 Percent (source)

The fucking fuck?


Prudence responds as a polite advice columnist should. She gets a wee bit snarky. In part:

Your whine makes me kind of wish that people from the actual poor side of town come this year not with scary costumes but with real pitchforks.


When we have reached a point where anyone in America thinks that maybe the rif-raf shouldn’t be holding out their hands asking for some fucking CANDY, then we’ve finally arrived at the point where we do need a reboot. As Tom Robbins said, “Life is like a stew, you have to stir it frequently, or all the scum rises to the top.”

And here we are with generational wealth at an all time high. The same fucking names keep coming up, Bush, Clinton, Kennedy. Watch a movie, and ask who the actors’ parents are – better than average, they’ve inherited their place on that screen. You just can’t get into the senate or house unless you’re already a gazillionaire.

And the final cherry on the top of it?

There are actually people who have come to the point that they don’t want the poor kids coming by and taking a few pennies worth of candy.

I’m not going to enjoy watching the 99% burn down my house and take all my shit. Of course, my money is not in the house, its all squirreled away in offshore bank accounts, because fuck you. So, I’ll leave the insured crap behind, and run out the back gate with my wife and kids. I’m heavily armed, so I might even shoot a couple of them if they block my way. Then I’ll move to Italy and pay more taxes

But, should I stumble and they put the noose around my neck, the last thing that goes through my head as they hoist me up will not be “shit, this is pretty unfair.”

It will be “fuck you, Candy Bitch.”

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