Day CLXV

"Hot Dawwwgs!"

     I always try not to park my car in the stadium or its nearby parking lots. They rip you off, it’s for out of towners anyway. One day after I found parking space a few blocks away on Walton avenue, I started walking down 158^th street, and as I got close to River avenue, I heard a familiar voice,

    “Hot dawgs, git ya hot dawgs, heaaaaaaaaaa!”

    “Marty, how da hail are ya, man?”

    “Hot…damn, my man how are ya!”

    “Are ya making any money, bro?”

    “Hea man, call me later, it’s a long story!” he gave me his new number, and I went to the game.

     One day Marty read in a book on business theory about the power of delegating authority. Of course that is cool if you have a big enterprise. But he decided he could apply some of the principals to his business. He got himself a second cart, helped a pal of his sweetie’s to get a permit, and set her up a block away. He had two carts.

     Then like an executive, Marty decided to delegate more authority to her. This would allow him to diversify, and seek other opportunities as the book adviced. He took her to all of his suppliers, showed her what to do, and expected her to do all of that on her own, and bring him the bacon.

     Sometimes we get so smart, you know. I mean like you can go beyond the boundaries of reason to the other side. Your mind spins three hundred and fifty nine degrees, just short of eureka, and you get stuck on that nth degree where stupidity rules, suddenly there you are in the Rod Serling zone, no way out, and making dumb moves you otherwise just wouldn’t. He wasn’t making a lot of money, but at last he felt he was on his way to being independent again, and he was smoking a lot less.