Why you're broke
Why hello. Thank you for stopping by, you poor miserable little college student. I know you have to go write an essay or rob a liquor store in order to pay your rent, but I think you’ll really be glad you took the time to read this.
As I write, I’m sipping on a specialty blend of scotch that I commissioned NASA to design after the space shuttle industry went to hell. Oh, and I’m also smoking a cigar rolled with Donald Trump’s hair. So obviously, I am no stranger to money. Now I’m sure you’re wondering why I get to sit atop my golden tower and look down on you less wealthy folk like little ants (Oh! Does anyone have a magnifying glass?).
Well fortunately for you, my heart is as large as my pocketbook. So, out of total charity, I will tell you why you’re miserable.
I know some of you people out there like to blame your misfortunes on trivialities by saying things like “there are no jobs in the market” or “it’s really hard to work 10 hours in a factory right after I get my chemo treatment.” But come on now — this country wasn’t founded on lazy-ass whiners. It was founded on blood, sweat and tears (mostly of the natives we slaughtered for the land, but also because of our hard work).
Yeah, so maybe I spent $500,000 to carpet the second kitchen on my yacht with actual Persian tiger fur. But there’s a difference between us. I’m not poor. I have one word for you people: Ramen. It’s like the bread of life for lazy college hippies. You can get like 20 bags for almost zero dollars, and I’m sure there are plenty of great nutrients in there. Like – you know – carbs and calories and stuff. Plus those seasoning packets are sure to have rat feces that fell in at the processing plant. Great source of protein.