A Post for Punks: Please Steal My Wallet.

Couple weeks ago at the office, some guy came in off the street and stole my wallet. The security door was deactivated so that couriers could come in without disruption. The thief only had to polish his brass balls and stroll inside.

One of my co-workers saw him milling around and asked him what he was doing. The thug said, “The woman up front said I could use the bathroom.” Good enough. The punk was directed to the can, which shares an approximate location with my office. My wallet was sitting on my desk, so the asshole swiped it and later charged $300 to my debit card.

You live in Memphis, you expect to absorb some crime. It was irritating to replace my driver’s license, cancel my credit cards, and file a police report. But it wasn’t exactly upsetting. Shit happens.

The attitude of society towards crime victims is what’s upsetting. When I finally figured out my wallet was not lost, but stolen, I immediately informed the building’s security force. Three (3) security guards interviewed me on three separate occasions. This is a Reader’s Digest version of the transcript:

GUARD: (writing in little black book) You say the thief stole your wallet.

ME: Yep.

GUARD: And where was your wallet, sir?

ME: On my desk.

GUARD: (pursing her lips) Oh. On your desk. (snaps little black book shut)

Case closed. See, it wasn’t the thief’s fault for stealing my wallet. It’s my fault. I was the fool who left my personal property on my desk — a desk that happens to be located in a building that can afford to employ three security guards.

What kind of ass thinking is this? And it wasn’t just the security guards either. Nearly everyone in my office gave me the “Knowing Nod.” You know the one. That nod you save special for fools and Memphis City elected officials. That’s what I got when I told people how my wallet was stolen.

KNOWING NODDER: “Why didn’t you have your wallet in your pocket?”

ME: “What does it matter? Some asshole came in and stole my wallet!”

KNOWING NODDER: “You shouldn’t have had your wallet out.”

In my opinion, I should be allowed to leave a pile of diamonds on my desk and expect it not to be stolen by some guy passing along on the street. Why? Because it’s fucking stealing, that’s why.

The Knowing Nodders patiently explain that what happened to my wallet is “A Crime of Opportunity,” which is another way of saying it’s my fault that somebody stole my wallet. See, I deserved to have my wallet stolen, because I made it into an irresistible opportunity. Now it’s not a crime. It’s a lesson. For me.

The Crime of Opportunity Argument is the most idiotic, liberalized, anal-sore mouth shit I’ve ever experienced. This is the same thinking that justifies the rape of a woman who wears a short skirt. This is the identical line of reasoning people take when besmirching a murdered man’s character for jogging in the park at night. “Well, if he hadn’t been jogging in the park at night, he wouldn’t have been gang-beaten to death with baseball bats. Serves him right.”

Remember, this isn’t his fault. It’s yours.

The wallet thief, more than likely, won’t get caught. He didn’t stick around to accept accountability. The only person left is the victim. Me. So I get to listen to condescending lectures about keeping an uncomfortable wallet in my pants, because leaving my wallet on my desk just invites innocent people to commit a felony. Meanwhile, I have to wait ten days for my “customer first” bank to decide I’m not a liar. Only then will they reimburse the $300 I allowed to have taken from me.

The point of this exercise is to reveal the identity of who is at fault when crime occurs: Criminals. Yes, criminals are the ones to blame. When somebody shoots me in the face, arrest the guy who did the face-shooting. Don’t wonder why I was sitting in a porn theatre at 2 in the morning. It’s not relevant to the case. Nor when I get gang-raped by thugs, don’t wonder what I did to provoke them. It doesn’t matter. I was gang raped by thugs! That’s the crime.

Don’t worry about this guy. He had it coming.

Because my blog is so popular with the underworld, I’m sure that the wallet thief is reading this post and laughing his ass off. Can’t say I blame you, punk. Because, ironically, society sees you as the victim and not me. You may be the punk, but I’m the privileged product of middle class society with the nerve to own a wallet. You were right to take the wallet, punk, because it was a Crime of Opportunity and I deserve to be deprived of possessions I work my ass off for. You lived off an unearned $300, punk, not because you are a cowardly piece of shit too stupid to learn how to fill a W-2 Form, but because I made crime too easy an option for you. I deserve the prison-rapings you could be receiving right now at 201 Poplar. I’m sorry I canceled the goddamn check card. If you had stolen more money from me, punk, I might have received a deeper lesson in return.


5 responses to “A Post for Punks: Please Steal My Wallet.

  1. I can clearly see the bitter old man you will become.

  2. By the way. I heard your wallet was left on your desk out of spite only to disappear once again. How’s that going for you?

  3. I like muscles. Do you… like MUSCLES?

  4. I like muscles. Do you… like MUSCLES?

  5. How strange it is that once you become a partaker in the fruits of your liberal ways that you scream like a conservative who would, heaven forbid, lock up the criminals and actually use the death penalty to reduce the number of punks looking for bleeding heart pansies like yourself.Next thing you know you will be toating a 6 shooter and arguing for your right to bear arms…. what has the world come to?!?

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