Let's face it: Your job blows.

You areunder paid, over worked, and under appreciated. I feel terrible that your job sucks, but you need to keep doing it, because I don't want to. You people form up the backbone of America, and allow people like me the opportunity to attend college instead of plowing fields in rural St. Louis. I give you my thanks for the things you have done for this country. I also understand that the stress your job puts on you is immense, and in an effort to avoid you shooting, at people like me, with a gun, I offer you this gift: Get Pumped: How To Prepare For A Day Of Menial Labor.

Mr. Bus Driver – Thank you for driving me to school, wayback in the day. My mom had to make it to her tenth "Tennis Lesson" of the week and couldn't get me to school on time. I can only imagine how frustrating it was driving past all those mansions you didn't live in. It must have been hard, but I know a great way to cheer you up.

Every day before getting into that giant yellow death trap, just sit down and listen to "Yellow Submarine" by the Beatles, and watch Speed. Just remember that at any point in time you can save the day by circling in a parking lot for a few hours.

Hey Janitor - Thank you for showing up every day and cleaning a place that you probably don't live in. I respect you because, even though there's puke all over the dorm bathrooms on the weekend, by the time I wake up on Tuesday to go to class it's gone. I respect that, because if I didn't, you'd stop replacing the urinal cakes, and that would be bad.

So before you get into your white Tacoma and come to school, treat yourself. Blast some "Let's Get Ready To Rumble," as you watch Half Baked. Just remember that you have a key ring to every lock in school, and behind one of those doors in the pharmaceutical school must be several kilos of medicinal marijuana. Knock yourself out, oh sultan of the sparking toilet.

Dear Fast Food Worker
- Thank you so much for offering a cheap alternative to cafeteria food. Not onlyis it delicious, but it is ready for me under the warm glow of a heat lamp. Yeah, there's spit in it, but that is a paltry price for the convenience of a 24-hour meal. You usually even give me what I ordered, except for that one time. I said double cheese with extra pickles bitch, and no, I don't have any intention of letting you remake it. I know you'll just fart on it, and I'll be damned if I ever eat a fart burger. But I digress. I apologize, as I know that working behind that counter all day in front of that deep fryer trashes your complexion not allowing for you to go out at night.

There is no question about it, you have it rough, so before you march out the door to pre-make a gross of Bacon McKing-wiches lighten your mood by having a near dawn screening of Good Burger, while listening to "Weird Al" serenade you with the lyrics of "Eat It."

Senor Meat Packer - I am a huge fanof your work. Every time I go into the grocery store, I can't help but drool over the cuts of meat so elegantlydisplayed beneath a sheet to shrink wrap. It must be tough going to work every day, knowingthat you are responsible for the deaths of countless innocent animals. The days you make veal cutlet must be especially hard; yet it must be done. For that reason I award you with the Bovine Murder Medal Of Honor: the most prestigious award I have ever given.

Even though your wife will no longer sleep next to you due to the smell, you should proudly celebrate your daily accomplishments by waking up and watching Boondock Saints, while blasting "Bodies," by Drowning Pool. Remember, as a meat packer your skill set also lend themselves to becoming a vigilante too.

Salutations Postman
- You are an integral part of society, even the media has begun to notice. So please don't shoot. I know that you hate getting up before the sun only to be bitten in the ass by my rabid dog, but without you I would never get those care packages my grandma sends, and I would have to walk down the street to get my license at the DMV. I know the Post Office's motto is "rain, sleet, or something," but I know your motto is KILL KILL KILL, and I appreciate your restraint.

I suggest you break into your day by watching the first few minutes of Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, as he does dress up as a delivery guy. Sorry that's the best I can do on short notice. I would also recommend listening to the Foo Fighters "Learn To Fly." Once again little to do with the USPS, but nonetheless a good song.

Good Morning Banker
- You are kind of the oddball of my group of rag-tag working class heroes, because you are no slouch,but I do understand how it must be hard to curtail your insatiable greed around all those stacks of money. The fact that my checking account usually balances is a testament to your self-control; although, there was that one time. But I'll let it slide, that "identity theft" thing still sounds made up. If I had your job, I'd be rolling in pools of Hamilton's too.

Celebrate the day by getting up, sitting down in your massive underground movie theater, and watching Employee Of The Month (The good one, not the one with Jessica Simpson, although she did help, but you justcan't beat The Office's Pam as a hooker.) Mute that bad boy and blast some "For The Love Of Money" by The O'Jays. Don't worry, that theater is sound proof so you won't wake up the rest of your gated community.

TsarChild Molester
- It must be tough with all the media constantly watching your every move, and the omnipotent eye of god burning downinto your soul must be painful too. Don't listen to them say those nasty things with their dumb lies all-full of doo doo. No, I don't believe anything that comes out of your mouth, but lets face it, without people doing your work in the world, society would find out about the insatiable lust within each grade schooler. Your actions allow the rest of us to still believe that children are inherently innocent. "NO!," we cry out, "Those children did not want the 'Jesus juice!'"

Thank you for protecting the innocence of children, by protecting the ignorance of adults. Don't let anyone catch you, but every morning, don't wake the toddler lying next to you, just sneak Charlie And The Chocolate Factory into your portable DVD player, and listen to Aaron Carter's "I Want Candy."






Hey You! Hobo - I know you sleep on the cold hard ground every night, getting peed on by dogs, and beat up, by other hobos for the moldy bread behind the bakery. I still think of you as an ally. You see, the change I throw into the street as a diversionary tactic so that I don't have to smell you, actually gets squared and put on my tax forms as "donations." I remember you when I use my refund check to buy an extra thirty rack, I am always sure to enjoy it twice as much for the both of us.

So, my systematically disenfranchised friend, when, and ifyou wake up in the morning, any CD or DVD you can find will do. Run to the closest pawn, and hawk that shit. Use the money to buy something you really need, a crack rock and another two-ounce bottle of hooch… and I'll hope tomorrow night isn't as cold.