Lincoln (b)Logs

For Abe, about Abe, by Abe.

Dear Readers,

I have moved to the Financial District!  I enjoy the cobblestone streets and views of the river, and my apartment is quite subway-convenient.  However, I’ve had several encounters with brokers and bankers that have given me some irritation.

Just the other night I was at a tavern in close neighborhood when a young, disheveled gentleman approached to observe my party’s beer pong match.  He was quite seasoned (I daresay he’d had enough to fill a pipe of wine!), and began to speak loudly of his occupation and personal wealth.  At one point he boasted that he could “buy and sell me.”  I feel I need not explain my vexation at this.

He continued to drink and brag of his accomplishments, telling us to “picture like, the biggest house you’ve ever seen, then add the value of the most expensive car you can think of.  That’s how much money I make.” 

I suppose he is within his right to be proud.  $2500 is a fine salary.  I simply reminded him that my visage is ON the money he earns, and returned to my game (which I won).

Yours,

A. Lincoln