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I Fought the Law and the Law Lost Because My Father is Rich

I’d never considered myself a hero until I was staring down the prison industrial complex and made the law relent, all it took was unwavering courage, and the best lawyers on the West Coast all hired by my rich father.

Let me paint the scene, it was a Saturday night and I was driving home from a show at the DIY venue/cocaine empire I manage when tragedy struck. I may have been crushing Four Lokos and speeding, I may have swerved into oncoming traffic, I may have hit a guy crossing the street. I don’t entirely remember. At least, that’s what my Dad’s lawyer friend told me to say.

The pigs harassed me immediately. They lifted me out of my car without asking. They made me do a field sobriety test even though I was too drunk to do one safely. They made me look at the body being loaded into the ambulance/ “See what you did?” they asked, as if I didn’t feel a little bad already. Then they locked me up in a cell with a bidet-less toilet. ACAB

But those pigs had no clue that my father was Scrooge McDuck-fuckin’ rich-(and also buds with the Chief of Police. I actually call him Uncle Dave, even though we aren’t related by blood.)

My dad started from nothing except a five-million-dollar loan from his dad. He bought a lot of property in the scary parts of town, and hired people to invest his money wisely. Now he makes millions just breathing. He drinks scotch with politicians. He flies to mysterious islands for full-release massages. He’s the man.

So yeah, I had a power inside of me the pigs couldn’t touch. And all that power came from my rich father. I’d call daddy and he’d fix everything.

And he did. My bail was paid. The pedestrian was forgotten, and the pigs who arrested me were removed from the force. Their badges hang on my wall. I got a package in the mail yesterday, containing a nice ring and a note that said “Clean kill, DOA, one more John Doe for the med school. Don’t beat yourself up. Cleaned the ring thoroughly.” My dad knows the county coroner. What a sweetheart. The body didn’t go to waste, and I bought a new car so I didn’t have to look at the dents the guy left when I hit him. It feels good to fight the power AND give back to the community.

So that’s my story. I’m just a regular Joe with a rich dad who fought the oppressive powers of the law and won. I hope I’ve inspired you. If I can do it, you can do it, if you have a rich father.