Inside the Big Box

Large-carton markets like that one for which Hillary Clinton worked are notorious for employing thousands of desperate children in Southeast Asia.  They work their little fingers to the chicken, ranch free, only to be so beaten down as to barely be able to appreciate that one hopeful momenton the twenty-second of each lunar month when they get paid… in rape.

Why do we ignore such Kurtzian horror when we, as Americans and other stuff, have the economic power to force various mart derivatives to employ our pungent outburned hippies and other people for whom we truly care.  Who will shed the first tear when the Lin family starves because little Phat couldn’t bring home the bacon?  His name is Phat!  That’s hilarious!  I’ll bet he puts two spaces after his punctuation.  It’s the only way to format papers that makes them longer that actually makes you seem more professional.  I mention it because you ask.

As a formality, imported foods should be avoided like linear algebra homework, if only because the good stuff comes from America’s inner space.  Pain is relative; I don’t think morals are.

The point, as always, is grammar!  It’s the posture for the fingers that isn’t finger posture or the obvious.  It is the art of the prescient parody, and Freud would be proud if he had only avoided high-fiber breakfast cereals.  So say the bloggers.