satire-by-sroka #30

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satire-by-sroka

Labor Day In America

Today is the day America honors the millions of workers who toil away, 52 weeks a year, for minimum wage, with little or no benefits. Yes- today is the one day you get off work so that you can labor away all the other days. What does Labor Day mean to Americans? We decided to take a survey, on this Labor Day to see just what Labor Day really means to American workers.

First off, we caught up with a man known as Heroinballs who was fishing for carp along the banks of a polluted river in rural eastern Kentucky. Mr. Heroinballs was a little upset with our presence, as he’d just popped a hand full of Percosets and Levo-dromans. We approached cautiously. “I’ve never worked a day in my life”, he told us, in no uncertain terms. “Now, get the fuck way from me before I kill you,” was all we needed to hear before we decided to conduct our survey elsewhere.

We thought a good place to check would be a union labor hall. We went to the penthouse office of union leader/mogul Baluga H Cornhole in Detroit. Mr. Cornhole, leader of several unions for more than 40 years, was sitting in his penthouse, being massaged by a Playboy type sexpot. Between spoonfuls of caviar that he was being fed by his attendant, Baluga expressed his true feelings for the American labor movement and it’s workers: “These lazy-assed mother fuckers should all be fired. Incompetent, stupid, ignorant lazy goons. All of them! Now, get the fuck way from me before I kill you!” abruptly ended our session with one of the most powerful and influential labor icons in America.

Believe it or not, there are people who have to work on this sacred day. We found laborers Alfonso Crowbar, Rambo Sambo and Kim Mo Bong chopping up cement with pneumatic drills in the middle of New York City. The boys were sweating their balls off, laboring away on an emergency project to replace a 48 inch water line that had ruptured. Crowbar was irate saying, “This is my day off. I got called in from my all night drunk at the bar. To hell with you. I need a drink right now. Go get me a 6 pack or I’ll kick your ass.” We moved away slowly as the three roughnecks got into a violent fist fight.

Next, we figured we’d surely find a lot of people in a bar on this day for labor and we stepped into Pedro’s Pool Hall. The dump was packed from front to back. Beer bottles were flying left and right. Debbie was doing Dallas on the big screen and a sporadic fist fight erupted here and there. We approached establishment owner Pedro and asked him what Labor Day meant to him. “Get out of my face. You see I’m busy here. I don’t have time for no shenanigans. Get the hell out of here right now or I’ll have the boys pound the shit out of you!” was all it took to send us fleeing back to the safety of the city streets.

Out on the street we ran into a big burly longshoreman type rogue who refers to himself as Buckminster. He wanted to know what we (strangers) were doing in the lower Bumtown section of the city. We advised him that we were doing a survey of how American’s felt about their Labor Day. Buckminster pulled out a pistol and pointed it in our direction. He told us to get the hell out of Bumtown and that if he ever saw us there again he’d kill us. We left in a hurry.

So, there you have it folks. From the peoples mouth, on this Labor Day in America.

2/08

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