Monkey

Dads are the best. Especially when their daughters are in trouble or need. Like me. My dad worries about me because I don't have a job. I do have temporary health insurance and am paying Citibank, Amazon, Juniper, Chase, the U.S. Department of Education and my landlord, but my dad worries (like other dads would) that he might get the dreaded phone call one day:

"Dad, I need to borrow some money."

In my case, I would have to insert the word *more* between *some* and *money* since I am sure that my parental loan is already in the tens of thousands. Luckily, I have a dad who is a brilliant man. Always coming up with new marketing ideas for my singing website, always telling me what results come up when he googles different combinations of my name, skills, education and performances.

Today my dad sent me an email. It was pithy in perfect business-like fatherly fashion.

He wrote one single sentence:
"I will get you a monkey you can stand on the corner with to collect money while you sing."

The next time you see someone on a street-corner beating a white bucket, playing a pan flute, or singing and playing an electric guitar hooked up to a complete audio system, stop and give him a buck, ok? His dad might have been the one to give him the idea.