Around this time one month ago, Paul DiGiovanni was living in a respectable three-bedroom with his family. Now, he’s downsized to a poncho and sleeping bag in a Lower Manhattan alleyway.
“I shoulda listened to the YouTube man,” he lamented, swigging a handle of whiskey, “I shoulda fuckin’ known better!”
But alas, Mr. DiGiovanni did not. He sought to watch his favorite compilation of Tony Soprano destroying liberals for the umpteenth time when he was ambushed by a mysterious, ominous financial advisory ad. The spokesman, “some David Kiyosaki or Robert Ramsey type motherfucker, I can’t remember,” portended that skipping this ad would “be the biggest financial mistake of your life.” But when the ad hit the five-second mark, Mr. DiGiovanni did precisely that.
What followed was NOT a middle-aged Italian man’s retrograde opinions on social issues, but a supernatural compilation of abject dejection, destitution, and unspeakable financial ruin. Within 4 hours, a tree crashed through Paul’s townhouse, killing his goldfish Vincenzo on impact. Within 12, the landlord evicted him for cursing the rental with “dark Stregherian folk magic.” Within 24, his wife filed for divorce and cut him out of the phone plan, and it’s only been downhill from there.
“The boys at the plumbing company booted me after they found out I couldn’t fix up my own damn house. The boys at the bank EFukt those ETFs after they saw my credit. The tree totaled my fucking car too much for the boys at the Pep Boys. All like goddamn clockwork.”
Worse yet, Paul tripped down a flight of stairs and broke his leg, an injury running $35k out of pocket in this God-forsaken healthcare system. “Can’t afford to fuckin’ live or die in this country man. You know you need at least 2 Gs down for a casket?”
He struggles to afford adequate pain medication with the dwindling funds he has left. Selling his dad bod on OnlyFans from the public library computer has proven a fruitless endeavor. Ignoring one pyramid scheme has unmasked the other pyramid scheme that was ever having any hope or semblance of stability in his life.
Now, DiGiovanni has become a notorious panhandler near Wall Street, annoying people about Forex investments offline with no 5-second skip button. He says he’s almost accrued enough change to upscale from a sleeping bag to a camping tent, and ultimately remains alive to keep the curse alive out of spite, to grift the nation’s worst grifters into ruin. To become the stock market Samara.
“If the withdrawals don’t kill me, if the pointy architecture ain’t kill me, if the death of all my dreams doesn’t kill me, then I’ll bring on the deaths of theirs. They don’t know shit about the little guy’s finances, I ain’t know shit about any shit outside a pipe or bucket, so it’s the perfect con. I’ll show those Ponzi scheming hedge fund fucks the biggest financial mistakes of their lives. I’ll show them! One of these days.”