Hey.
Psst.
Wanna hear a secret?
These letters that I write every week, they're not very funny. They're not even written well.
That's probably because I generally write them in about five minutes at 2:00 a.m. when I have everything else in Street done. By that time I've been in the office for like eight hours, and I'm really really tired. So the letters are just something I get
done pretty quickly so I can go the hell home and go to sleep. In fact, as I write this, this is the last thing that needs to be done in the whole paper this week. So not only am I waiting for it to be done, others are waiting as well.
So I've figured out a solution: child labor. That's right. Child labor. In a sweatshop. For the cheapest price I can find. Am I ashamed? Hell, no! It's the American way! Well, it's not necessarily the American way to have sweatshops anymore, but it's certainly the American way to use other countries' sweatshop labor. And that's exactly what I'm going to do. Because, hey, let's face it. Most illiterate seven-year-olds can, and do, write better than me. And they'll get paid, thereby increasing the GNP of their country and decreasing American hegemony over the Third World. So I figure I'm doing the world a favor. And I'm not going to be like Kathie Lee. No, I won't cry and scream and say I've been slandered. I'll stand up proud, and say, "Yes! I am an exploiter of children!"
Also, lately, my columns have been dealing entirely too much with child exploitation recently. And if that's not a case for sweatshop labor, I don't know what is.
