As you may have guessed from the subject, I am switching gears from my usual internal memoranda in order to address a subject that has been at the forefront of many Americans’ minds over the past couple of months. I’m referring, of course, to the Indian government’s decision to “fight dark money” by taking 500 and 1,000 rupee bank notes out of circulation.
I can assure you that we are fighting this rash, impulsive action with every resource available to this company. India has always been one of our greatest allies in business and oppression, and we resolve to continue the free flow of large sums of cash through the streets at any cost. We will not rest until large currency is back in circulation, ensuring easier completion of DEFINITELY UN-corrupt deals of all kinds for years to come.
Psst- still there? Now that the NSA has stopped reading, I can finally address the fake elephant in the room.
Yes, America, you’ve finally done it. It’s distinctly possible, in fact, that some of you within this company have helped. Throughout the recent election cycle I tried to remain impartial, only bothering to comment on how boring both VP candidates were or the necessity of hiring paramilitary operatives to aid in an inevitable coup (no matter the result).
Now, however, I can make my true feelings known on whatever the fuck just happened to this country and what it means for the future.
Simply put, I am a businessman. My political preferences, like my penis, lean more right than left. I am of course in favor of lower taxes across the board (but much more for the wealthy) and, otherwise, I believe government should stay out of people’s lives and uteri. Now, some of you sheeple would take this to mean I am an unabashed supporter of the pro-capitalistic (maybe?) neo-conservative (sure!) Donald Trump and his Republican allies.
Wrong. Loud wrong. Please refrain from filing an HR complaint when I ask you holy SHIT how in god’s name did you get so fucking wrong?
As the rappers say, let me break it down for you. As a businessman, my chief aim is always and only business, as in the free flow of goods and services between consenting adults and impressionable young children with a taste for tobacco. For such business to continue and ultimately succeed, only one component is needed: stability. You see, I can make money off of anything, and under any set of laws. Tax me and I’ll put my money offshore. Regulate me and I’ll charge higher prices. Break up my monopoly and I’ll buy Pacific Avenue to form a new one. No amount of government regulation or control short of Stalin-level nationalization can stop this company and its fearless leader from exploit- I mean, advancing the cause of a free and fair market.
At the beginning of this election cycle, there were ~1,000,000 choices of candidates. On the left there was Bernie Sanders, who never had a shot in hell for many reasons, chief among them that America hates Jews. There was also Hillary Clinton, giver of Wall Street speeches and arbiter of globalist, Euroliberal steadiness. On the right there were, in no particular order, Marco Rubio, John Kasich, Chris Christie, Ben Carson, Carly Fiorina, Big Bird, Scrooge McDuck, David Duke, Jesus Christ, and Donald Trump. Oh, did I forget Jeb Bush? Didn’t we all.
The point is, America couldn’t distinguish between the policies of any of these assholes if it tried. American politics has never been about policies (as 99% of all policy promises are broken as soon as a candidate takes office (Pew International, p. 5)), but this race was especially not about policies. In nominating Hillary Clinton, the Democratic Party forced regurgitated Robotussin down voters’ throats and, in nominating Donald Trump, the Republicans dropped racist LSD.
Needless to say, American voters (that nebulous group that includes you and several thousand Macedonian teens) were not thrilled with their choices. On the one hand, they had a woman who vowed to keep the status quo, which for many in middle America means Oxy and STDs, and on the other hand they had Max Greenfield’s character from The Big Short. One was even-keeled and offered no easily understood solutions for improving the average person’s quality of life, and one was fucked up on gold Krylon fumes and offered a subprime mortgage on a little property known as “America.”
What would you choose? Well, if you have no money, probably the latter. If you have a lot of money, probably the latter as well. Wait a second… how does that work?
Well, “friend,” I’m glad you asked. It’s because that same subprime lender who promised you two high-flying months followed by a fucked up future also offered us folks at the top of the pyramid scheme a cut of your money. Not a lot of your money of course (Ha- like you have any), but enough that, when combined with lower taxes and the obscene capital gains we already make (don’t worry, I don’t expect you to know what those are) it allows eight of us to amass more money than the rest of you combined. It should be nine, but I just missed the cut. And I mean just.
You see, in a free market, money flows to the top. Rich people start banks, into which poorer people deposit their money, which is then used to make high-risk, high-reward investments that reward – you guessed it! – us rich people. If those investments don’t work out… the government makes like Yankee Stadium’s gay grounds crew and rolls out the TARP.
Is this an oversimplification? Yes. Do I care? No. Am I a Bond villain carelessly explaining my master plan before you somehow get wise and escape just in time to take me down? Maybe… but you’re no James Bond. For starters, you’re far too ugly.
So what’s the problem with all this, you ask? I mean, by all rights, I should be thrilled.
And I am. A little.
But I’m also (and this takes a lot for a man with three Bentleys to admit) fuckin terrified.
You see, when I first started this company with nothing in my pocket and only a $1,000,000 loan from my father in the bank, I had a dream. I dreamt that someday our widgets, foodstuffs, and personal care products would hold together machinery, stock shelves and fill bellies all over this great nation. How was I able to make this dream a reality?
Oh yes, through “hard work,” sure, but also through the collective unconsciousness of a sedate populace.
By electing a megalomaniac with the serious potential to wage nuclear war on both friends and enemies over a perceived slight the size of his hands, we have awoken a sleeping giant. There are protests in the streets. I can’t afford protests! If people are protesting, they’re not working, and therefore people like me don’t make money (oh, and, needless to say, if you protest you’re fired. This isn’t Woodstock you fuckin hippie). And, as I laid out earlier, I need to make money to survive. One of those Bentleys is leased.
The point is that the old adage “the rich get richer and the poor get poorer” is no longer simply an adage, mostly because I don’t know what that word means. It is a clear and present fact- or, in the words of Tom Clancy, a Rainbow Six. It is entirely possible that this unbridled deepening of the wealth divide between the haves and the have-nots will spiral out of control and cause some real problems. I mean, rich people area already taking advantage of their power and influence in horrible, sadistic, satanistic ways. Hello, ever heard of a little thing called PIZZAGATE!!??FEHFBIESUHUEHHSERE>?!?!JiOJ_+(
So listen up intrepid, loyal, interchangeable members of this company: I’m not pleased. I wanted America to hum along giving social carrots like gay marriage and gay bathrooms to all, blissfully unaware of the solid gold spur of capitalism crushing the 99% underfoot. Sadly, that spur is now painfully obvious. And worse, it’s only gold-plated. But that will not stop me from continuing to amass pharaohic wealth while bringing you the greatest gift of all: employment. This company will operate as it always has, without regard for who is in that big White House on Pennsylvania Avenue or the big 9-bedroom house 10 minutes north. As long as everybody sits tight, does his or her job, and remembers that, above all, I’m the boss, we should be just fine.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to finish macraméing this life-sized vagina dentata…