We talk race to death in this country but nobody ever talks about class

I’m driving my wife nuts.

Lately, I’ve been working really hard to get my artwork up to six figures a year. It won’t be this year but it may be as soon as next year if everything goes as planned. At worst, it will be 2024.

Anyways, with busting ass, you gotta take time off or else your brain will explode.

Yes, I’m not exaggerating. One of my roommates in college had a brain aneurysm because he worked 80+ hour weeks until his brain went pop. Now he’s crippled.

So what do I do for entertainment?

We’re going back and watching 80s movies.

Now, the fantasy list, she’s cool with. She enjoyed several of those.

Recently, we watched Dragonslayer which Princess for the Night rips off. I literally based the lyrics from that movie. The only difference is in the song, they throw a wild ass party for the girl about to be sacrificed.

However, the John Hughes movies drive her nuts. Yes, she liked Ferris Beuller.

But the Molly Ringwald movies? Nope. She’s totally not a normal chick.

Yes, I married a tomboy. When she was in high school, she was better at throwing a punch than walking in heels.

Sure, in her 20s, she looked like a knockout in a bikini. That’s why we ended up together. Her friends tried to get her to be a runway model (she had the looks, the height, etc).

It was me who got her into dancing because any girl of mine is going to be graceful.

But to this day, she doesn’t like those high school romance John Hughes movies.

We got European Vacation tonight and Some Kind of Wonderful next in the queue. I’ve seen the former but never the latter. I’m definitely looking forward to seeing that German girl’s titties in European Vacation.

Anyways, what does this all have to do with race vs class?

Here goes…

I related to the Molly Ringwald working class characters. I come from the working class.

In junior high, I was 1A popular. Yes, I was in the inner circle of the popular kids. Whereas everyone else hated junior high and said it was the worst time of their lives, it was the best time of my life (up until the five years before the scamdemic, and especially the years when we lived close to both Allie and Roxy).

Then in high school, something happened.

I learned the hard way that money matters.

I fell to 1B popular. Yes, still a “popular” kid but more outer circle popular. Not inner circle popular.

In my junior year of high school, there was a smoking hot black chick. We’ll call her “Liz.”

Anyways, Liz’s locker was right next to mine. And I of course asked her out. I was never one of those guys who was scared of girls. I’ve already done everything (other than anal) before I first saw Liz.

I struck out. She didn’t want anything to do with me and I can’t guarantee you this, but I’m pretty sure it came down to my class.

You see, she was upper middle class. I was working class.

She lived in an upper middle class area. I lived by a refinery.

Just like the Pretty in Pink movie except swap the genders.

Yes, class is real. People talk race to death but nobody ever talks about class.

Now the good thing…

America is THE country where you can leave your class.

You could do stupid shit and fall a class or two. Or you can do smart shit and go up a class or two or even all the way up.

I started off my career as a day laborer. I could carry heavy shit from 9 to 5 with no problem. I’ve always been super strong with lots of endurance.

Then I got into waiting tables. Waiting tables is underrated if you work in the right restaurants. You could actually make some pretty good money.

Not great, but it was nice having a nice wad of cash every night I worked.

Then the surprise pregnancy forced me to figure out how to get into the corporate world and we eventually worked our way into the upper middle class, where we are now. Where Liz was born into.

Going back to Liz, I pissed her off and she moved her locker away from me.

Heh. Oops. It happens. Not everyone will like you.

I’ve ironically found that everyone thinks the rich are the most classist people. I’ve found that the upper middle class is. They think they’re better than everyone else and they’re the most likely to thumb their noses at “lower” classes.

Even when I was working class, I’ve found rich people liked me. My best friend in junior high came from the lower upper class (otherwise called “new rich” or “new money” as opposed to “old rich” or “old money”).

I was a cool kid amongst my own class too because I could throw a football, catch a football, run with a football, and tackle anyone carrying a football.

But upper middle class kids? They thumbed their noses at me. Not just Liz.

I noticed this pattern pretty consistently.

This even happens as an adult. I pretend not to be educated because I don’t like to identify as a college graduate. Yes, I’m actually quite well read and I have a degree. I just don’t brag about them because over-educated people tend to be the biggest douchebags.

The upper middle class is almost Nazi-like about education. Their whole meaning of life is to get their kids “educated.” Which of course means outsourcing their education to a university, where they often come back as useless woketards. But that’s another story for another day.

Categorized as Rants

By Roman

Pinup Artist. Composer. Writer.


  1. I knew “ten cent millionaires” who were actually debt laden to look rich. They acted like big shits wearing outdoor store clothes that neo yuppies wore. I see some of the ten cent millionaire crap in plant workers where I live

    But my neighbor was a scruffy cheap as fuck type who invested in/worked for IBM, then bought useless real estate in (a swampy hell hole you would call Boca Raton FL).
    He was a classy dude. Respectful, experienced in life. Didn’t turn his nose up at people. Worth millions. Rich in experience, treated me like a son. Always game for a sailing excursion as payment, considering I got less than minimum wage. But I got to tear ass around on tractors and go swimming near his lake slip.

    Class? I know of decent people in many different strata. But some of the sorriest were multi generational broke types. I use class in the character measurement. I knew of quasi poor folks (one family) that was all heart. We helped fix their house. I loved that lady. She blatantly told me that she wasn’t poor because she had a place to stay, a good job, and a family that loved her. They were good people that loved. I think class is in the proverbial heart.

    1. Boca Raton?

      I know that area. That reminds me that you should NEVER under any circumstances take financial advice from me.

      I’m terrible with money. For all the money I’ve made in my lifetime, I should be rich today.

      Back to Boca Raton, I had the cash to buy some properties in Boca Raton in the early 00s. Instead, I spent it on limos, booze, and titties. My friend even kept saying “buy in Boca Raton” like a million times. I didn’t listen.

      Partied like a rock star. Now got nothing to show for it.

      Saw a lot of titties though and got the pics to prove it.

      And yeah, I saw both extremes amongst the poor. Some of the best. Some of the worst.

      As for ten cent millionaires, that’s pretty much everyone who thinks they need to keep up with the Jones’s. Yup, know plenty of those too.

      I would have loved to have known your neighbor. I really needed a mentor growing up. I made so many bad decisions with money because all my peers made bad decisions with money and we were the blind leading the blind.

      It’s ironic how people who really know what they’re doing are often the most humble. Your neighbor would have been a great mentor. And of course a great guy to know.

      As for my friend who said to buy in Boca Raton, she was even worse with money than I was. But at least she knew I should have bought there in the early 00s.

      1. We lost him a few years ago. He was good to those that he loved
        Famous for making the news, interviewed about how his cruiseliner caught on fire. Was a NY State NRA firearmms safety instructor. Deep dude, competitive sailor, pipe smoker, etc.
        I should have asked him advice before I left for the service.

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