Creativity pays, people.
After a long day at work of busting my ass to come up with great ideas, I just gave five whole dollars to a raggedy man on the subway who was wearing crudely constructed space-alien antennae on his head and playing a saxophone. I gave him the money because, in between songs, this was his shpiel:
I am an illegal alien from outer-space, not Mexico. I crash-landed on your planet and my spaceship is wrecked. I am in need of earthly currency so that I can have it fixed. When I return to my planet, I’m taking Bush with me. So think of this as an investment.
