I drove up to the Sonic near my parents place the other day for a hamburger. For those of you who aren’t familiar with Sonic, it’s a drive-in style burger franchise that you find primarily in the South. They employ mostly younger high school girls as carhops, and I’ve heard first hand that it is not out of the ordinary for an attractive 17 year old to come home with more than $120 or more in a shift.

I ordered my burger and smoked a Parliament while I waited for my sandwich and strawberrry limeade(!) to arrive. This time, however, my food wasn’t delivered by jailbait on roller skates. This time my sandwich was delivered to me by a 30 year old man. It just so happened this was a guy who I went to high school with.

I didn’t know this guy very well when we were in school, as he was a few years older than me. What I do remember is that he was a charismatic guy and had a way with the ladies, but he did not come from money. You could tell he had issues. Maybe he had a hard time sitting still in class. Maybe his father beat the shit out of him when he was a kid. Who knows.

What I do know is that he left our school at some point after he ran into problems with drugs. I never saw the guy again. Fast forward to last week.

Ten or twelve years is a long time to lose. I know this first hand.

What kind of grit do you think it takes to work a menial job in your old hometown?

What kind of balls do you think it takes to deliver hamburgers, knowing you will be judged by the same people who judged you ten years ago?

No family connections.

No solid skillset to compete in the ever changing marketplace for the working class.

I know a lot of people who played with fire and got burnt. This is unbearably sad.

But then there are others, those who smile when they see this happen. God, I hope the drugs did him in for good, they think. Less competition for me.

The Germans have a word for this.

Shadenfreude: satisfaction or pleasure felt at someone else’s misfortune.

Tell me this: what the fuck have you accomplished that’s given you the right to judge the poor, the sick, the illiterate and the insane?

What makes you so much better?

Your class?

I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but if you’re working AT ALL– if you are doing something you would rather not do for money–then you’re a hustler just like the rest of us.

Know this:

1. History repeats itself. The narratives that are being woven right now have been woven before.

2. You will be judged by the way you treated those less fortunate or gifted than yourself. Prepare accordingly.

Now go buy a fucking hamburger.

The most recent one I watched last night was called Girl 27, a film by writer/producer David Stenn. Mr. Stenn is doing research for a book he is writing, and comes across a story from 1937 Hollywood that is absolutely heartbreaking. 1937 was a booming time for MGM and as a reward for performing so well, Mr. Meyer decides to reward his salesforce with a drunken orgy–essentially he feeds unsuspecting starlets to these guys. One of them gets raped and the corruption and lies that surround this event is almost surreal. Her Mom takes hush money so she can open a liquor store. She is vilified by everyone in Hollywood as being a whore/slut/tramp and how this echoes into the rest of her life is really, really sad.

The guy who directed it is a very good writer and the film is full of footage and pictures from the gilded age of Hollywood. I like to watch period stuff now quite a bit, because, while the scenery and technology may be slightly different, the narrative could easily be told to day. This could happen tomorrow. I’ve read that the effects of trauma can last for 3 generations and I don’t doubt it a bit.

The sexual power women yield over men has inspired both awe and hate, likely since we first started running around in tribes.  The more cultures work to control something, the more valuable that thing  likely is.

A couple other recommendations from snagfilms:

Life on the Mesa

Inca Mummies: Secrets of the Lost World