Fueled by my insane need to find some closure to my paper-writing marathon, I drove to the grocery store for some impulse buying at 1:30AM.
And as I pulled through the check-out lane, I realized that I had not even checked the country of origin for my produce. Which is something I always do. But tonight, I didn’t care if my grapes where grown in Chile as a front business for cocaine drug lords, or that my strawberries were grown in Mexico by some mongoloid peasant that used human excrement to fertilize his crops.
Fuck you Dan Rather and your “Harvest of Shame.” Your uppity investigative journalism makes me want to exploit immigrant seasonal labor even more. Yes. I buy produce picked by disenfranchised migrants. So fucking what? I am basically thrusting my enlarged, elongated, American, Imperialistic phallus into the gaping vagina that is the exploited 3rd world labor source. I don’t care.
Fiscal liberals still haven’t found out that the free market is too powerful a tool for them to harness. The only thing that drives an economy is money. Yes. That’s right. Nobody gives a flying fuck about principles. To the lowest bidder goes the patronage. Why else would Wal-Mart exist? Jeez, do I have hold your hand?
As Conan O'Brien once wrote to his mother in a Valentine's Day card, I have the same timeless message for my country. America: I reject your bourgeoisie values, the wheels of my revolution will crush you.