Tomorrow we are headed to Wildwood for our annual vacation. The start of summer wouldn’t be complete without a reposting of this TBP classic from 2011.
UPDATE 2020: Fat Moe’s days at the shore are over. He left for the big litter box in the sky. The Section 8 couple, skinny Mike and Fat Foul Mouthed Joyce broke up when Mike was sent to State Prison for selling heroin in a school zone. She immediately shacked up with a huge black dude who ended up taking her away to Florida.
We sold the condo in January 2019, so no more Section 8 stories. It was an interesting 12 years as a condo owner. Now we’re just renters.
UPDATE 2021: My real estate acumen has been proven once again. We had the condo up for sale for 3 years without a nibble from 2016 through 2018. We finally sold it for $240,000 – an $85,000 loss after 12 years. The condo above ours just sold for $389,000, two years after we sold. At least I got that big tax writeoff.
Update 2022: Condo in my old complex sold for $489,000 in the last few months.
Enjoy
I bet you’ve been waiting for another cat story. Well this one doesn’t involve my dumbass cats. The start of my vacation didn’t exactly go the way I wanted. I worked until 5:00 pm last Friday. Avalon headed down with the kids and the cats earlier in the day. I had to go pick up my mother and her fat cat after work to bring them down. I bet you are all jealous. Avalon, my three kids, one friend, one girlfriend, a mother, and three cats in my one floor condo. Sounds relaxing, doesn’t it.
My mother’s cat is the size of a freaking house. She says he is just big boned.
We had to practically pry him into his cat carrier for the 2 hour trip to Wildwood. This cat never meows, according to my mother. Well, from the second I put him in my little Honda Insight, this cat never shut the f#$k up. He meowed non-stop the entire trip. We figured out why he was meowing about 45 minutes into the trip when the aroma of cat piss started wafting through my very tiny car. This was supposed to be the start of my relaxing vacation and my blood pressure was rising by the second.
We arrived in Wildwood with a fat dumbass cat covered in his own piss. This is where the story gets surreal. My crazy ass mother decides to get the hose and spray the cat down in his carrier. Not the brightest move of all time. She now had a fat, urine soaked, wet, panicked cat in the carrier. I ignored the festivities as I lugged luggage into the house. I brought the carrier onto the deck.
![These Cats Are Pissed to Be Wet [14 Pictures] @Misty Cash](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/19/c1/59/19c15968e3b9e355da74e7298c2a9612--hilarious-pictures-funny-pictures-with-captions.jpg)
You were probably wondering how Section 8 housing in the title of the article could be involved in a story that takes place at a shore resort, a half a block from the Atlantic Ocean. I’ll address the Section 8 aspect later, but for now you need to know that a black family consisting of a 50 year old guy that doesn’t work, his 350 pound loud mouth wife, her 75 year old mother with a walker, and a teenage dullard live in the condo unit next to ours year round. That’s right. No one in the house works and they live at a beach resort year round.
Evidently, they don’t like to waste their government money on air conditioning. They leave their front door completely open so that you can see them in their living room and kitchen. Well, they used to leave their door open until the crazy old lady and her fat cat incident. My mother had her knee replaced five weeks ago. She isn’t the most mobile 75 year old and she sometimes doesn’t show much common sense. She decided to dry Fat Moe with a towel before letting him inside. One problem. Fat Moe was in panic mode and as soon as my mother unhooked the carrier, Fat Moe made a beeline into the black family’s house. The old guy thought it was a rabid possum. Without introducing herself, my crazy mother ran into their house after Moe. The 350 pound lady screamed because she is afraid of wet urine soaked cats. In the meantime, I continued to lug bags up the stairs while muttering under my breath – DUMBASS.
The cat ran into the dullard teenager’s room and hid under the bed. My mother, with her new knee, spent 20 minutes trying to get fat Moe out of their house. She eventually succeeded. Moe still smelled like piss, so my mother and Avalon grabbed him and threw him in the tub and washed him down with Victoria Secret shampoo. He looked like a fat drowned rat and they decided to blow dry him. My mother held him and Avalon used her blow dryer on him. He liked it.
Later, on the deck, the 350 pound lady asked if my mother was alright, inferring that she was crazy. Not far from the truth. By the end of the night, Fat Moe was the best smelling cat in Wildwood.
Section 8 at Beach Resorts?
My condo is one of 7 units located a half block from the beach in Wildwood. They were built in 2001. One guy bought 3 of the units pre-construction as an investment. His name is Pete. He owns one of the largest blueberry farms in NJ. He shall be known as Fat Pete for the remainder of the story, as he weighs approximately 500 pounds. He sold me our unit in 2004 and sold one of his other units later. He continues to own the unit next to mine. For awhile, he let friends and family, use his unit. But, as the real estate market imploded, he has been left owning 9 different investment properties in Wildwood. He needed cash flow. This is where the story gets interesting.
I have very little understanding about Section 8 housing. Here is a description:
Section 8 of the United States Housing Act of 1937 (often simply known as Section 8), as repeatedly amended, authorizes the payment of rental housing assistance to private landlords on behalf of approximately 3.1 million low-income households. It operates through several programs, the largest of which, the Housing Choice Voucher program, pays a large portion of the rents and utilities of about 2.1 million households. The US Department of Housing and Urban Development manages the Section 8 programs. The Housing Choice Voucher Program provides “tenant-based” rental assistance, so an assisted tenant can move with assistance from one unit of at least minimum housing quality to another. Section 8 also authorizes a variety of “project-based” rental assistance programs, under which the owner reserves some or all of the units in a building for low-income tenants, in return for a Federal government guarantee to make up the difference between the tenant’s contribution and the rent specified in the owner’s contract with the government. A tenant who leaves a subsidized project will lose access to the project-based subsidy.
Somehow, Fat Pete got approval to turn his unit into Section 8 housing. He is evidently receiving $2,000 per month in rent from you and me so that this family of “poor” people can live year round in a beach resort, one half block from the Atlantic Ocean. I’m positive there are multiple Social Security disability payments pouring into their bank account. The 350 pound loud mouth is surely disabled. She parks her car in a meter spot for free because she has her little disability tag. When did being a pig and being grossly overweight become a disability? The old lady with the walker is definitely getting a payment. I don’t know what scam the 50 year old dude has going, since he is clearly able bodied. He sits on the deck reading the paper and drinking beer. They probably get something for the dullard.
As the country spends $4 billion per day more than it brings in, how many of these scams are going on across the land? This shit needs to end. These lowlife deadbeats need to work and earn a living rather than suck off the teat of state. Yeah, we need massive cuts in the military. We need to crush the banks. We need to scrap the tax code. But, we need to throw lazy pieces of shit out of their cushy resort living fantasy land too. As you slave away at your 8 to 6 job trying to make ends meet, remember that you are paying your taxes so that lazy freeloaders can live in a beach resort for free.
So concludes my story about a fat dumbass cat, a crazy old lady, and Section 8 at the beach.
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