Here's the worst partabout being poor.
It happens every timeI call my bank, right?
I get the... Now I getthe e-mails; you ever get these?
The courtesy alertsI get from my bank.
These e-mails, right?
(nasal voice):"Courtesy alert.
"Just wanted to let you know
your balancehas fallen below $25."
It's been doing that every dayfor a year and a half now.
This isn't a courtesy.
Now you're justbreaking my balls.
That's all you're doing.
If youto want make it useful, like...
"Courtesy alert: your neighborscan hear you masturbating."
"Okay, thank you.That helps me."
I'll turn down Lord of the Rings.
Whatever you're into,it's all right, it's fine.
And every time I call my bank--I don't know about you guys--
I always get the sad robotwho reads me my balance.
It's always the depressed...
(slow monotone):Like, "Your... balance...
is four dollars... and 48..."
I don't feel bad enoughas it is?
I got to hear the sad terminatorread this to me?
"Your balance is three dollars."
Growing up in Texas,I had a neighbor.
Her name was Louise Jordan.
She was this black woman whoweighed, like-- I don't know--
she was, like, 500 pounds,but the sweetest woman.
Always happy,always in a good mood.
Why can'tthat be the voice you hear...
when you check your balance?
"Your balance is two dollarsand 72 cents.
(applause and cheering)