My Brilliant Second Career: DISH WASHER!

The great thing about our great American system is the gifted and talented cream always rises to the top and the lazy scum head to the bottom. All I got to say to that is: Hi, folks! It's me, scum!

In a free market, it's
all about your assets.

There's a reason we see Kim Kardashian living large and little folks sweating away in unnamed slavery until the merciful release of death. And that can only be because we worship truth and integrity above all. The invisible hand of capitalism unerringly guides our lives to a place of justice and equity without fail. In other words: if you're suffering it's because you DESERVE to suffer!

At least, that's what us good and responsible folk think.

If you get fucked, fired or fried, don't you be bitching! Go off in a corner and die nice and quiet like you should. If you was supposed to be livin' you WOULD be livin'! If you be dying it's because you SUPPOSED to be dying! Everyone start thinking they got the right to live no matter what the whole damn system goes to crap! Lincoln was wrong to take those chains off them slaves. He was an anarchist!

I hereby free you to earn minimum wage!

Good news here in the trenches, folks, is most people is good people and they don't mind dying for the greater good. God bless their diseased bodies and minds!

Now, used to be I was a so-called brilliant journalist before I saw the light of redemption. Ever since I was little I was told what a great writer I was. Boy, were they ever dumb! Before I knew any better I went out and became a star reporter and wrote about the Mayor running his company in an illegal manner by claiming his workers as independent contractors when in reality they were employees (this tactic saves companies large amounts of money). I got awards and everything for that.

Boy, am I laughing at those award folks now. They be all mixed up!

Next thing I know the editor calls me into his office and rightly FIRES my ass. Being without wisdom I asserted, "But I only printed the truth!" But the editor was guided by the hand of God (and the Mayor), replying, "Exactly! People don't want to hear the truth! We're here to make a profit, you moron!" Stubborn youth that I was I barked back, "I'm going to tell everyone you fired me for telling the truth!" "Go ahead!" he laughs. "It's the truth. No one wants to hear that shit!"

I'll tell you the truth as soon
as I'm through making it up.

Mr. Editor was so very right. Once word got out I was a truth-teller no one would hire me, a profit-killer. I felt just awful for my wayward and derelict ways. How was I contributing to the unquestionable greater good of corporate profits? Scum! Scum, I am!

Then someone told me I was free! That I live in the Land Of The Free! That all my poverty and lack of shelter was a blessing allowing me to finally pursue my passions. That's how things work in the Home of the Brave (If You Can Afford To Eat). Since I was obviously deluded by my passion for the truth I realized I must pursue what must be my true passions instead and thusly take my rightful place in society.

So I sat at home Googling pictures of Russian tennis stars and masturbating to my heart's content. I created a new resume as the professional masturbator that I was, ready to accept any and all offers of compensation. I thought to myself, "So that's why they call these Money Shots!" I have to admit at that point I felt a tad sheepish at not giving the system its due in making the world a better place for each and every one of us.

We've both been working on our forehand

But apparently, I aimed too high as the marketplace once again spoke in its unfailing wisdom. This career also was to be denied. Wandering cold, windy streets in my thin ragged jacket, coughing snot and musing upon whether or not the DART trains travel fast enough to induce death, I was saved as all good people are who accept shit. A fine Dallas Republican stopped his BMW and exercised the beauty of market forces, telling me: "Here you worthless fuck! Lick my car clean for a dollar!"

Halleluiah! I was reborn! A washer I be. Despite the fact I was picking bugs out of my teeth for days, I was deliriously happy to have at last found my place. I even called into Rush Limbo and he called my tale a "great American success story." Me! A success at last! Look, Ma! You gonna be proud, yes you is!

Soon, I started climbing the corporate ladder of success, scaling the heights from car licking to dish washing - indoors! Hard not to brag here (hate to engender jealousy among you NON-yuppies) but I've now fully arrived working for a MAJOR American corporation. Each morning my whole body just tingles as I put on my Official Denny's apron. THIS is what I call living!

The neighbors were suitably impressed as I
glowingly sauntered past with my mop bucket.

I hope you realize it's not my own horn I'm tooting here, but the greatness of the American system of rewarding honesty and hard work that has allowed me to come so far. First off, I'll have you know I'm not just a dishwasher. At Denny's my responsibilities are many. The whole kitchen must be cleaned from floor to ceiling, along with hauling in supplies from the trucks, bussing tables and most of all cleaning the bathrooms in a timely manner. As any executive can tell you, people of great import are required to wear many hats - mine just all happen to be paper.

But I don't want to gloss over any ugly realities. I had to work HARD to get where I am today. Industrial dish washing is not like loading up the washer at home, no sir! It's a constant barrage of dishes stacking up higher and higher as you shove them through nonstop hour after hour in escaping steam. Pedro, my mentor, laughed when he saw my scrawny white ass, thinking I could never make it in this rough and tumble world of scraping half eaten Grand Slams. But I showed him what I was made of!

And that's why this boy is living large! I can hardly repress the smile I feel every time I defecate indoors, remembering old times in the park having to squat and shoo away curious dogs. Renting 525 sq ft of matted carpet, I roam this single room like the king I am. And it only costs half my salary! That's the reward of hard work, folks.

Partying hard at Casa de Harry!

And benefits? Oh yeah, baby! The shop manager told me all about our great dental plan and handed me right off a FREE toothbrush. Whenever the roach guy comes to spray my place I always point out this grand freebie to him with a raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk (He pretends not to be impressed. Loser.)

All I got to say is: Thank You, Thank You, Thank You! Was lost but now I'm found. I realize some people still sadly play the fool. You should hear Jim, the overnight dish washer, always complaining and moaning, thinking he's a history teacher just because he did that for 25 years. God gave us talents, each and every one of us, and I for one am most grateful to be putting mine to good use!