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.
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7 comments:
Money doesn't have a brain; it NEVER went to Harvard Business School.
The biggest danger is when Walmart becomes China's fifth largest trading partner and strikes it's own foreign policy. (I bet Walmart's ambassador would be wearing polyester.)
Ms.- of course you do. I always. knew. you. were. a. lezbo.
Mrs-of course they would be wearing polyester! Or maybe a spandex blend. What else would stretch and cover the bulge that is (metaphorically and realistically) their huge ass?
sounds like you should have been sleeping.
and other anti-conformity, anti-commercialism things...
Ed, you are--as always--so right. How DO they cover their behinds. I have spent many, many years in the study of Behinds. It is difficult to cover them. Of course, there are the ploys of fabrics (bustles) and the annoyance of hootchieness, in the form of "short where fat, is better". I stick with the classics: A Firm Hand on the Behind is the Behind That is Happy. Call me old fashioned.
the mrs-
I have no idea what the fuck you are talking about. I would suspect that you were drunk when you wrote that--> but I don't have to suspect. I know. You alkie!
Mands-
Thank you. I do what I can.
Oh, my; it was one of the few times I was sober. That, in itself, is frightening. It will never happen again.
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