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Faux Outrage

Literally the most important blog in the universe since 2010.

Disclaimer: Let’s get one thing straight here, I am not a Communist all the time.

I haven’t been to 1980’s Russia recently, but I bet I wouldn’t have a hard time fitting in once I learned Russian and the wonders of drinking colossal amounts of homemade vodka.  In no way am I suggesting that Russians know how to make vodka by themselves.  Eh?  Am I right, Americans?

I like things that look good on paper.  Logical proofs, photography, pornography, tracheotomy, the usual.  To me, if people weren’t as lazy as I am or as corrupt as I wish I could be, I would be a red-blooded, au natural, 100% fat free Communist.  What’s wrong with Communism isn’t the theory, it’s the people.  And for the record, that’s what’s wrong with our government too.

Before I get too specific, let me start out by saying that if people went as far as to do what I am about to suggest, our economy would go down the tubes and I would be a far less rich, more unhappy person.  (In other words, don’t try this at home).  The point is that the lower class workers in our society could do this if they wanted to and weren’t lazy about it.  You heard it here first: Low class people are too lazy to start a revolution.  Also, our society is completely hell-bent on the existence of unemployment.  Yeah yeah, that’s right, that’s what I wanted to say.  Yeah, that’ll be my thesis.  Eh HEM.

I work at a baseball stadium (reader’s note: symbolism), which I believe to be a pretty darn good microcosm of American society.  My job is to stand inside a little hut (which, by the way, was used as a commercial oven in a commercial oven factory in a time where commercial ovens were manufactured in commercial ovens at temperatures far surpassing that of the capabilities of the commercial oven being manufactured!) and wait for people to be tricked/begged/forced/guilt tripped (choose your own adventure!) into buying a souvenir.  To put it frankly: My fellow coworkers and I are the bottom of the proverbial barrel (right between the people who make your hotdogs and the people who clean your hotdog wrappers off the ground, you “too good for garbage cans” bastards.  Those people shouldn’t even have jobs!).

Now, as I was staring off into space today, I realized that I was worth way more to the organization than $6.75 per hour.  In fact, if I don’t come to work, the Rochester RedWings will not make at least $100.  So I was thinking (*gasp*).  What if one gloriously organized day, all of us hotdog makers, hotdog cleaners and salespeople decided to go on strike?  That would be downright detrimental to the economics of the Rochester RedWings (read: baseball stadium) (read: microcosm of American society).  So I was thinking, why not just go on strike for fun? We wouldn’t demand more money, we wouldn’t start fires in the main concourse (again).  We just wouldn’t work one day.  For fun.  And all hell would break loose…Just because we wanted it to.  So I ask you, how powerful is the lowest class at Frontier Field?  (answer: quite)

The sad truth is that big business owns the government.  The sad truth is that doctors and lawyers and government officials will always makes more money than they deserve.  The happy truth is, however, the poor working class in America can decide if and when this country is working.  Lucky for you, there is still unemployment and immigration to keep those people “deciding in the right direction” if you will.  Otherwise, those crazy low-income, unskilled working class members might go and do something “crazy” like ask for more money.  Think about it.

I wonder if this makes sense.  (Yeah?  Well, neither does your mom.)

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