An Open Letter

This time, to the able-bodied but jobless residents of my neighborhood:

Standing in front of the Job Bank on E. 161st Street, bitchin' about your baby mama between bowl hits, in a group of about twenty other folks doing the same thing, does not, in fact, constitute a job.

I realize this may be confusing for you- I mean, you do hang out there for eight hours a day, five or six days a week, and people do sometimes give you money. Sometimes you even switch position to admire the shorties. So it's somewhat physical. However, I am here to tell you, that if you didn't fill out a W-4 or I-9 or some form with a combination of numbers and letters and your address, you are not employed.

Thank you.