Today I was cleaning out my work computer when I found a letter than I authored to the 7/11 corporate HQ back in October. I’m just going to leave the letter in its entirety here. PS – this letter is now in the mail to 7/11. It’s a good thing I’m looking out for the dietary health of America.
Click “more” for, well, more.
Unless you’re living under a blissfully unaware rock, you’ve probably read, or at least heard of, Warren Buffett’s editorial against tax breaks for the super-rich. Stop coddling them, he argues. They’re good people. They’d willingly give their wealth to the needy–if only we asked them to! (Did you hear that sound? It’s Ayn Rand’s condescending sigh from the grave.) Now, I don’t claim to know anything about finance, save for how to spend too much money on pointless trinkets and rack up tidal waves of student debt, but Buffett essentially blaming politics for a part of his wealth is like an extremely overweight person blaming Golden Corral for their obesity. I don’t know. I’m going to avoid technicalities here.
Good old Warren, however, gave me an excellent plan. You see, I was a liberal arts major. An art history major, to be specific. In case you’re an optimist or just an idiot, let me put it to you bluntly: major in art history, struggle financially. I’ll illustrate the situation for you. Most of my fellow art nerds and I tolerated unpaid internship after unpaid internship before acquiring even the most basic, art-related job. Those that found the job market unforgiving entered graduate school for several more years of cerebral flogging. On the greener side of the grass, I have a physics-major friend who is currently getting paid $60,000 for a 6-month internship at a major tech company–an internship where he presumably does nothing but play around with robots and occasionally order people around.
So you see the predicament here. I chose what I liked over what was profitable in college, and now I’m faced with a life filled with Franzia and ramen.
So back to Mr. Buffett–his editoral inspired me. The rich should not be coddled. In fact, they should be cuddled…specifically by me. That’s right. Cuddled. Judging from Warren Buffett’s allegations, the so-called “super rich” don’t even want this money. Nay, they frown in its general direction. I plan to take advantage of this. I, for one, would enjoy having a few extra zeroes in my bank account. With this in mind, I have decided to undertake an onerous task–to assist the super-rich in being, well, not so super-rich anymore. I shall begin the quest to find the perfect wealthy husband.
Take that, silly idea of “following your dreams”!
As you may or may not know, Matt James and I had a brilliant idea last summer. We decided to develop a fantastically corrupt YouTube series titled, creatively, The Matt and Justine Morning After Show. (Google us.) Unfortunately, this show never saw more than one episode due to our busy schedules, since we decided to actually chase our dreams (which takes up a lot of time, as it turns out). However, to be fair, the one episode that we did make contained a rap about the Golden Girls from a random Lil’ Wayne imposter.
Last night, we were sitting in Roxy, taking advantage of their 10-hour-long happy hour. It’s common knowledge that we are royalty at Roxy due to the fact that we’ve spent the GDP of a Baltic country there. So we got to thinking about our lives. Where are we going? What are we doing? What is our destiny? Obviously, greatness and wealth, but we just don’t know exactly what we’ll do along the way.
And then it hit us.
We will open a bar.
The Matt and Justine Morning After Bar.
Let me tell you about this bar. It won’t be any normal bar. Picture the End of Line Club (Tron):
Just take away the abundance of neon lights. Actually, all the neon lights. Also, forget the fancy wall-length windows and the elaborate bar. And, you know, we always hope that Daft Punk will make an appearance at our bar, but don’t count on it, so remove that too. Yeah, and we probably won’t have bar stools that look like an IKEA of the future. So basically, picture the End of Line Club and then picture the exact opposite of that and you have the Morning After Bar.
Some things that the Morning After Bar WILL have:
- Drinks named after the Golden Girls, third world countries, and fatal diseases
- A giant sign that simply reads, “WHO IS BRENT EVANS?” This will seem like a clever Atlas Shrugged reference when you enter, but it will progressively freak you out and make you question your life choices the more you imbibe.
- Crooked decorations on the wall to enhance your sense of disorientation and nausea from the get-go. Why wait until you’re actually drunk to feel dizzy?
- A cardboard cutout of Paula Deen
- Jeff Green in a cage
- A riot room
When you think about this, it’s just the natural progression of our life courses. We’ve been practicing professional alcoholism for about 7 years now. So…
Who wants to invest?