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F the MTA: A Bootlegger"s Perspective

Would I like to share a cab with you? I thought you'd never ask.

Ah, much better. Would you mind moving over a bit? Just make a little room for the blanket. There we are. Now then, can I interest you in a DVD? I've got King Kong. Two for $20. Kong is supposed to be spectacular, but I have a full selection of DVDs, not just ones about giant apes. Any film I have-highest quality, I assure you. Here, take a look. I'm telling you though, I can't keep Kong for more than a few hours because they're literally flying off the blanket. It' a good deal and you should take it.

What? Yes, yes, I am that Chinese chick who sells bootleg DVDs in the subway. I guess you probably recognize me from the E or F lines. Until they start running again, though, I'm up the river. How about The Ice Harvest? Cusack? Billy Bob Thornton? Here, just read the package.

While you're reading that, I have to tell you, with the exception of those commuters who are sleeping late, masturbating to The View and cracking open the most recent Netflix shipment under the guise of "working from home," this whole transit strike thing really sucks. All I hear on the radio stations is the same 30-second loop of useless information about every artery into the city being clogged like a spicy pork sausage in Dom DeLuise' aorta. The transit workers are pissed. The MTA is irate. Bloomberg thinks they're both pussies and he' walking across the Brooklyn Bridge in the freezing cold.

I see that you've put down The Ice Harvest. You're a tough nut to crack, but I think I've got the solution: Fun with Dick & Jane. That and Kong for just $20.

I have to tell you, sales are so bad with the strike, I've often thought about hurling myself onto the tracks and ending it all. The only problem is, I'd probably just crack a rib or something-since there aren't any trains running. Working for the MTA is one of those jobs that I always equated with people who get paid decently to suck miserably. Their professional cousins include weathermen, meter maids and New York Knicks. I can't remember the last time that a conductor, or a station attendant gave me better service than a Metrocard machine.


And then there' the "Stand Clear of the Closing Door" guy. If I had the mic and was running one of those subway trains, you'd better believe I'd use it as my time to shine. I would hum loudly to help the homeless sleep better. When the panhandlers were walking from car to car, touting their hard luck stories, I would cough things like "Bullshit," "Fullofshit" and "Ahem, not homeless." Between end-runs, I could even walk through the cars and spray a little Lysol. That stuff goes a long way. These are the types of things I think about as I sit in subway stations all day, every day.

I hear a lot of commuters pissing and moaning about a difficult commute and lost profit. You want to talk about someone' holiday business getting thrown in the shitter, how about you talk to me for a second? Things are so bad today, I can't even move Legally Blonde 2: The Uncut Version.

Where the hell is my union? I've got Jay-Z bitching and moaning that I'm taking food out of his mouth. I've got all of these file-sharing bastards fucking up my program and I have to deal with hiring filmers and color printers and my legs. My legs, they fall asleep every day squatting over my brigade of illegally shot films. Then it becomes messy when the cops come and I have to fold all my product into a ratty old blanket and hotfoot it. How can I hotfoot it with pins and needles, though? It' a rough life, this.

I guarantee you that if we could make the MTA workers spend a week trying to sell a bootlegged version of The Transporter 2 off of a blanket that looks like it was used as a jizz rag, they'd get their asses back to work faster than you can say Moulin Rouge.

Oh, you're getting off up here? Um, I know this may seem awkward but I don't have any money on me. My business has dried up since the strike started. Can I pay you with this copy of Cheaper by the Dozen II?

Kong it is, then!
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