Bitch Better Have My Money. Brapp!

I have a folder for unrealized blog ideas with a paragraph or two to remind me of the emotional tone I had in mind.  Here are three entries in the folder:

This was written at 8:15 a.m. on August 3^rd.

THERE ARE days when I feel so inadequate, so lacking in ability to add anything of value to any social situation. The words that spill out are vapid noise – they reverberate in mocking chords. It makes me squish my eyes together and bring my forehead low.  I want to make my face disappear.

On August 3^rd when I wrote that paragraph we were in the middle of a pleasant moderate summer in the beautiful village of East Hampton where I live.  Early mornings on Georgica Beach on the Atlantic Ocean were stunning.  All my kids had jobs and the grandkids were thriving.  I had no threats to health or finances.  I had a new book out and the reviews were good. What degree of self-loathing could make me want to make my face disappear?  

A very different entry: September 29, 7:29 p.m.

I often watch re-runs of Lassie. Parents would now go to jail for everything the Mom and Dad let Timmy do on that show. Five or six year old Timmy is allowed to fend for himself, day or night.   Sometimes he sleeps in the woods (against a log and without a blanket). Cayotes roam.  Timmy is regularly left alone in the house with his chubby friend Porky (yes, they call him Porky). The boys turn on the stove and sometimes start a fire.  Porky will eat an entire roast, an entire pie, etc. In one episode, Timmy gave all the food in the house to Gypsy squatters down by the river and that sent Gramps into apoplexy.  “Get those varmints off my land.” I kind of miss that incorrect America.  Later the homeless, foodless gypsies, who were insanely happy, were playing their stringed instruments and it turned out they knew some of Gramps’ songs and they ended up friends, singing together.

Here’s another entry.  November 9^th, 7:06 a.m.

One of the best of the tech things in the pipeline is a cash free society. No more greenbacks.  We’ll pay with a fingertip or our eyes.  It will eliminate people asking to borrow money and people offering to lend money.  It will do away with those awful encounters when you have to ask for money you have loaned that is in the time limit danger zone.

But that’s in the future.  Until then, I bring you Rihanna’s fabulous “Bitch Better Have My Money.”

I don’t pretend to understand most of the lyrics in this song.  For instance:

Every time I drop I am the only thing you're playin'
In a drop top, doin' hundred, y'all in my rearview mirror racin'
Where y'all at? Where y'all at? Where y'all at?
Like brrap, brrap, brrap

The important thing here is that instead of a mealy mouth apologetic, “Ah, when do you think you can pay me back that twenty-three dollars I loaned you last month to pay for your lunch?” we can say:  

Pay me what you owe me, don’t act like you forgot. Bitch better have my money. Yayo. Moo-la-lah. Yayo. 

Brrap!