Your job is washing dishes? Haha, seriously? That’s a twiddle on the ol’ joystick. Can’t you get a better gig than that?
Better gig? I don’t know if there is one. Let me count the ways:
1) get my own stereo to blast tunes through the whole shift
2) don’t make hardly any money, so I don’t pay hardly any taxes, so I’m not helping Uncle Sam blow up brown men as much as, say, Jay-z is
3) get to take massive offerings of reeking waste to the curb every night to feed TIAMAT the Detroyer. It fills me with pride to be able to look down the empty block after last call and see the great heaps of nourishment bound for the landfill, and imagining all the little green businessmen and scientists intent on living comfortably AND saving the world from ecological disaster, imagining them having meetings together in restaurants all over the world, imagining their optimistic patter continuing unabated as a silent server pulls plates of half-finished monteleños and sweet potato fries from the table and turns them over to one of my smiling brethren, to be hurried out of sight and scraped into the jaws of the urconsumer, the eater of civilization!
