Jobbed Market

Saw that lyin' piece a shit Mitch McConnell on the news this morgen, an' thought to myself "Mitch, you lyin' piece a shit." He calls small business "job producers" and in an augenblink I recollect fifty years of interaction with them there job makers. 

Like walkin' into any place of business an' sayin' "I'd like a job." An' kindly old gentleman (or whoever) say "y'know son, we here to make money fer me an' mine, not you an' yours. This is business, not some kinda socialist hippie commune where we all share the profits."

He goes on (politely) "y'gots t'understand yer existence (such as it is). You exist...to work yer ass off so's to make me rich. You're what we call working class - a worker bee - a production line producer of goods and services. And taken together as a whole - you're consumers too - buyers of the stuff you make - which  in turn, I can sell back to you."

Well, that doesn't make much sense, but I guess I can kinda understand it. Small business aint in business to make jobs, they're in business to make money...for themselves. So I ask the old guy "you pay my salary, right?"

"Shit boy" he says "you gotta make me enough money to pay for your own salary. Otherwise I'd be losing money by having you around, dontcha see. And look 'round you...you gotta produce enough to pay for this here building, and all the equipment in it. If'n y'caint do that, we's losin' money. And that aint the point, now is it?"

"So" I ask (also politely) "I gotta produce enough to pay for...like twice my salary, right?" 

"Shit son" he say "you gotta make enough t'pay fer my big ole house, my fancy car, my vacation to the Bahama's, my kids' college - all that shit - come from the sweat a yer brow down t'the crack in yer ass."

"Doesn't seem fair" I mention "the harder I work...the more you make."

"Now you gettin' it boy" he says "welcome to the American dream." 

And he adds "I appreciate guys like Mitch McConnell lyin' out they ass - cuz that's what we pays 'em to do. Put a nice spin on things, dontcha know. Present us in the best possible light - like makin' money for ourselves is somehow patriotic...our duty to the flag and country. An' some poor slobs even believe that shit. Hope so, anyway." 

Then he shoes me out the door "move along now boy, I got work for people to do." And I notice a sign above the door "your time is my money." An' I thunk to myself "yo Mitch, this here world-wide crisis is like the perfect storm to change how all this Capitalist shit works." N'est pas?