Dear Chestnut Hill Investment Banker,

You're right. It is not, in fact, 2005 anymore. Brilliant.

Let me ask you something. Why is it okay for you to hire Carl to do a job at a rate of which you were fully aware, and then chew him out about the invoice after he has done the job? Because it's not 2005 anymore? Really? Is your national economic crisis somehow worse than our national economic crisis? Does it hurt you to have to postpone your purchase of a second IPhone 3GS for a week or two more than it hurts us to make our mortgage payment?

Why didn't you just build your own stupid shelves or fix your own stupid pipes? Right. Because you are a spoiled freak. You are used to paying others to do your hard work, but very recently and suddenly, the world told you that you are not entitled to twelve times the income your skills are actually worth, and dicking around with someone else's blood-and-sweat livelihood is the only way you can recoup some of your crumpled manhood and face your ball-busting-spoiled-freak wife in bed tonight. You cannot imagine a world where you simply can't afford goods and services, because your clean-cut corporate-lackey head is small and important thoughts like this simply do not fit inside.

I suppose I should feel bad about berating the Cranially Challenged. Your pinched forehead squeezes in on your brain too much for you to produce complete thoughts about how people have whole entire lives unconnected to you. They have kids to feed and hobbies to pursue. They have a great list of things they would rather be doing besides driving an hour to and from your house through shitty traffic to do work for you. I know you don't really understand, so here's what I'll do to help you out. I'll put it in small words that will go in there easier: Shut up. Fork over the F***KING money. Get over it.

Wait-what year is it again? I need you and your tiny flea head to tell me.

Also, you suck.

Love,
Mo

(*I do not hate the rich. I am simply annoyed by jerks.*)