I occasionally get excited about earnest call-to-action political pieces, but it's really satire that gets me. Case in point: Wall Street execs make money even when they do a shitty job, yada yada yada, I really don't care as long as I get to look at photo of their penthouses in the real estate section of the Times.
Then along comes McSweeney's with "Word Problems for Future Hedge Fund Managers":
Advanced (Ages 16-18): If an American hedge-fund manager makes $900 million and is taxed at a rate of 15 percent, how many American factory workers making $32,500 and being taxed at a rate of 25 percent does that make a sucker of? (Show your work.)
Also, last night I dreamed I was camping in a desert with a bunch of people from high school that I keep tabs on via Facebook, and a gully near our campsite flooded and I had to jump in and save our stuff as it was washed away. Then I dreamed about dolphins that were cute and playful and let you pet their squeaky smooth heads, but then got a little too rough and frisky and bitey. I gave one a good talking to, it apologized, and they quieted down again.
Jesus christ.
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