Your Seed: Hey who doesn’t like whacking off? Bob Timothy sure does! Did you know that you can get loads of cash by selling your semen? How about your eggs? You can get even more cash by selling your eggs! Profit I say! This may be the most lucrative thing you ever do with your degree! You always have something to offer the universe, and that thing may very well be your seed. Bonus points if you’re handsome – no one wants an ugly baby. Put that college degree to good use and start selling your unborn children!
Your skills: Face it, many of your skills aren’t worth anything, but this doesn’t mean that you can’t profit from them. Are you good at painting broccoli? Create an online course! Are you great at Photoshop? Sign up at Fiverr.com, where you can sell a number of your skills to people around the world for five bucks a pop. Are you a bad singer with a great body? Youtube! Are you a good singer with a bad body? Youtube (everyone loves an ugly underdog). Are you a renowned wordsmith? Write a jingle! A juggler? Perform at children’s birthday parties! A juggalo? You’re too old to be listening to ICP![13]
Get a pencil and some paper and jot this down now (if you can’t afford a pencil and some paper, get your laptop). I want you to write down all of your skills, ranking them from most profitable to least profitable. Be honest with yourself. No one needs a beer pong expert or a Buffy the Vampire buff. Only write down skills that are marketable. Speaking Dothraki or understanding Klingon shouldn’t be on this list. Neither should knowing all the birthdays of the members of One Direction or the fact that you started a Susan Boyle Fan Club that has been semi-successful in gaining membership. Keep it relevant, people.
Done?
Good! Once you have your list, get hacking! There is always someone willing to pay for something somewhere.
Start selling weed: For fuck’s sake it is about time! States are finally starting to realize that weed seriously isn’t as bad as heroin and that people should be able to enjoy it (recreationally in some place, medically in others). What is more American than undercutting the competition and selling something at a more affordable price? Nothing! Capitalism and the thought that it somehow makes us better is what keeps the ship afloat. Take advantage of this by becoming a weed dealer in a state where weed has been decriminalized! Get your friends high with a little help from you![14]
If the local dispensary is selling an ounce of the ickiest kush for $60, sell yours for $55. If a marijuana lollipop costs $5, sell yours for $4. Do you really want to make some cash? Of course you do! Be the first person to make pancakes with THC syrup, or the first person to open a weed restaurant (preferably with Korean food). Get creative! Think outside the blunt!
Your dignity: Grandpa and Grandma are richer than you, as are your parents (hopefully) and your brother who decided to skip college and learn a trade instead. How about asking them for some money? Instead of whining about your debt or blaming the government or your countrymen, get proactive and do a little campaigning of your own! Start a GoFundMe campaign, put out an ad for sexual services on Craigslist, find a sugar daddy or a sugar momma and start getting money the old-fashioned way – by peddling your self-respect!
Hey, it isn’t as bad as it sounds. I mean, you’ve already sold your dignity by getting a degree in iPad Calligraphy with a minor in Typewriter Restoration. Why not take it to the next level and actually use what’s left of your dignity to earn some cold hard cash? If you’re clever enough, you could even start a Hedge Fund that trades in human dignity, waging future earnings against supposed profit margins.
Wrap-up
I hope this short memo has given you some ideas on ways to get debt-free over the next thirty-fifty years. I’ll probably be fired for sending this out, but I think it is important for the American people to know their options, even if their options are limited and some are worse than others. You’ve traded a lot of green paper for a single sheet of white paper with fancy writing on it. By God, you should put that paper to good use or save it for when you’re homeless and need some kindling for a fire! Bob Timothy feels for you!
Good luck out there, you’re going to need it. E-mail me here for more tips. I’ll probably be fired after sending this out, so let me know if you can get me a job in the Lincoln area. Also, I’m drunk, and you should be too. Sometimes it’s the only way to cope with what we’ve made of our lives due to forces far beyond our control.
Bob Timothy
Senior Nelnet Loan Assistant
DEAR NSA
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On Tue, Oct 8, 2013 at 11:21 PM,
Dear NSA,
Hey, it's me again. Still no reply? Oh, it’s cool. I know things have been crazy lately with the government shutdown and all. Whatever. I’ll be patient.
I guess I might as well update you on what's been going on around here: after suffering from a strange whooping cough, Chester put some Vicks VapoRub on his testicles and he’s now in the ICU (for the third time this year). He will undergo a skin graft operation tomorrow and we may never be able to have children again. We will be OK, I guess. Two kids are enough if you ask me (I wish you would tell this to people in third world countries, but that’s just my opinion).
I keep forgetting to tell you—our neighbor, Jack Rankins, has been shooting his guns off in his backyard. I assume you know about that, but seriously, there’s a playground behind his house and it’s dangerous to shoot during the daytime.
Once, Jerry and Susie were playing when a bullet whizzed past and dinged into the playscape thingy. You know, the one with the yellow slide. You can see it (just use Google Maps and look next to the playhouse with the red roof). Well, the damn bullet bounced off the slide, flipped up into the air, and landed in the sandbox, inches away from the Norwood's baby. Inches! You should keep an eye on this nutzo.
Yesterday, I got an e-mail from Yahoo! saying someone in Utah has been trying to access my account. Could it be you, my secret NSA crush? I made the password especially difficult. I'll give you a hint: Frederick Douglass (more hints to follow).
Also, just so this e-mail gets flagged: bomb, death to the US Government, attack, I want to kill the President, Jihad, Tea Party, heroin, C4, anthrax.
Talk to you soon,
Leah Moloch
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On Fri, Oct 11, 2013 at 9:07 PM,
Dear NSA,
Are you purposefully ignoring me? Because if you are, that's really, really messed up. I mean, how many e-mails do I have to send just to get a single reply? A girl shouldn’t have to try this hard.
You know what, forget about it. Whatever. I'm not trying to piss you off or anything. Sorry for bringing those things up. I always get frustrated sometimes when I type. Add two cups of black coffee and I’ll say just about anything to anybody.
As you already know, Chester had to have his testicle removed.
I don't know if this is normal or not, but the doctor let him keep the testicle in an old mason jar, which now resides on our mantelpiece. I hate looking at the slimy thing every morning while watching Fox & Friends. Men are so obsessed with their balls. It gets old.
I should probably just put this out there: my nephew (Facebook ID: Michael Rosenboom) is definitely up to something much worse than occasionally smoking a doobie. He has been asking me all sorts of questions about the chemical that the Russians used to poison that spy a couple of years ago (Google: Russian spy poisoning and look for the guy with the Shrek face).
My nephew claimed it was for an experiment. He said that he was trying to synthesize a new kind of low calorie sweetener or something. Personally, I think it's a cry for help, and not a Britney Spears after she shaved her head or a Miley Cyrus after she became a whore type of cry for help. No, I think my nephew Michael is up to something. Anyways, I know it's none of my business, but it is your business, so you’d better check into it.
Still haven't cracked my password yet? I see that you’ve tried to hack into my Yahoo! e-mail address yet again. If you want
a lady who gives it up that easy, you're barking up the wrong tree (or better, hacking into the wrong e-mail account lol). I've never given it up that easy. I mean, it took Chester almost three weeks just to get my shirt off. That's a lifetime to kids these days!
I'll give you one more hint about my Yahoo! password: Christina Ricci.
Also, just so this e-mail gets flagged: dirty bomb, nobody will find out, cover up, kill Pelosi, big trouble, assassination.
Ciao,
Leah Moloch
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On Mon, Oct 14, 2013 at 2:26 PM,
Dear NSA,
I'm feeling lonely. I'm feeling sad. I'm feeling like I shouldn't have married Chester. I know I shouldn't have married Chester. He's a slob. He's a bad mechanic. He’s slightly bald. He constantly smells like grease and orange goop. He lugs his dirty feet into the kitchen and releases loud, garlicky burps that stink up the entire house. Now he only has one testicle. Lance Armstrong only had one testicle and look what good he did!
Ok, that's not fair to testicular cancer survivors. Besides, we both know how much men value their 'family jewels' as little Jerry calls it. At least Chester didn't cheat like Armstrong, and if he did, I'd expect you to tell me. In fact, I wonder if you knew all along that Armstrong was cheating. I bet you did. You seem to know everything, NSA.
So you're obviously still ignoring me. What's a lady got to do to get some surveillance around here? Jokes don't really help if no one's laughing at them. :-(
Oh, so I guess you think I've been sounding a little pathetic lately? You know what? You’re pathetic. You're the one that hasn't responded to a single e-mail I've written all year. Not one single e-mail. Is fighting terrorism really that hard? Is spying on foreign governments really that time consuming? No words for a secret admirer in Alabama? Whatever.
You think you're so high and mighty sitting in your data collection center in Utah, monitoring phone calls and looking through people's e-mails for naked pics. That's what I'd do anyway, if I were a man.
What am I saying? Honey, I know you've been busy, trust me, I'm not naïve. America is either always at war with someone, or about to be at war with someone else. I get it. Still, we are better than Russia and still, this doesn't mean you can just ignore me.
Chester never ignores me. Sure, he may be a greasy, one-testicled idiot, but at least he'll sit there and say, "Yea baby, sure, you're right," which is more than I can say for you. I guess he’s not so bad.
It looks like you have been paying attention to my nephew, Michael. Were you the one who sent federal agents to his apartment to arrest him yesterday morning? Channel 9 News said he has been taken to some facility outside Montgomery. What did you find? Care to share any info? Also, you can at least say thanks. I’m the one who tipped you off, remember?
Also, just so this e-mail gets flagged: hostage, enriched, Somalia, target, shoot Harry Reid, Iraq, ammonium nitrate, terror.
P.S. Here’s another Yahoo! password hint: Abraham Lincoln.
Love,
Leah Moloch
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On Wed, Oct 16, 2013 at 5:18 PM,
Dear NSA,
Not even a thank you?
I sit here and tell you about my nephew Michael and you can't even say thank you? Yes, Michael was planning to infiltrate the local Wal-Mart after disguising himself as a door greeter. Yes, Michael was planning to poison the newest shipment of broccoli with radioactive Polonium-210. Yes, he then planned to take over the store and offer rollback prices that would benefit the local community and not the shareholders.
Sure, his idea was deadly, but only for people who actually ate broccoli. In fact, this may have been the greatest flaw in my nephew’s plan. He assumed that most of the employees ate broccoli because of its high levels of vitamin C and vitamin A. What he didn't take into account was that many Walmart employees are on food stamps even with fulltime work, and most don't spend their money on broccoli, opting instead for McDonald's, Hungry Man TV dinners, and/or day-old donuts from the in-store bakery. Also, and maybe you can shed some light on this, I still don’t see why he was targeting employees in the first place. It’s not their fault they work for Wal-Mart.
But enough about Michael, this e-mail is about us NSA, you and me.
Yea, you might think you can just ignore me indefinitely, you might think I represent the under-educated American who never amounted to anything aside from assistant managing a Sonic, but I'm here to tell you—I won't go down without a fight. Just like Reagan, I’ll always believe it’s morning in America. And just like Bush, you can’t fool me twice.
Is this how you treat every woman you've been with? I sure as hell hope not! It's men like you that give the male species a bad name. Oh, and I'm not lonely or anything. Hardly. I mean, I have Chester, for what it's worth. And it's true, Chester has his testicle problem and now he’s off the wagon again, but that doesn't stop him from loving me and cuddling me every night. At least someone cares. Whatever. Don't respond. I just won't write anymore. No sense in wasting my time. Go to hell NSA.
I almost forgot: build bomb, Taliban, nuclear, Al-Shabaab, suicide attack, stab Obama, chemical weapon.
Sincerely,
Leah Moloch
-----------------
On Tue, Oct 22, 2013 at 6:51 AM,
Dear NSA,
Hi.
Sorry I haven't written in a week. I've been busy (you know). About the message last week, I was just a little angry and severely caffeinated. I'm over it now. No sense in keeping a grudge, besides, I'm not going to lie, I missed you.
Did you miss me? You don't have to say anything. A lot can be said in silence. You know you can say something when you're ready. What would have happened if Sleeping Beauty had got tired of waiting for Prince Charming? The story wouldn't be so magical, that's for sure. So, I'll wait for you, my mysterious NSA lover.
No pressure. Just be yourself.
Michael isn't looking so good on the news. What are you guys doing to him? I mean, sure, my nephew was planning to kill loads of people, but that doesn't mean you should treat him inhumanely. What's the point in that? He looks like he's lost fifteen pounds. Seeing as how I am the one that tipped you off, you could at least give him a steak every now and then (medium-rare, garnished with green onions). It’s the right thing to do.
Before I forget, I've received a few e-mails over the last week saying that there have been several more attempts to hack into my Yahoo! e-mail account. You really aren't as good as you think you are, NSA. I mean, I've given you three clues: Frederick Douglass, Christina Ricci and Abraham Lincoln. How many more hints do you need?
Will Michael Jordon or Justin Timberlake help? Look there! Two clues in one e-mail! I'm being generous here. Really, I am. As if you don’t owe me enough already. Anyways, I’m not trying to force you into anything, or whatever. Just e-mail me when you get a break, I know your job can be exhausting.
Also, just so this e-mail gets flagged: car bomb, Hezbollah, weapons cache, terror, surgically implanted explosive device, cyber-attack.
Sincerely,
Leah Moloch
-----------------
On Tue, Oct 22, 2013 at 12:45 PM,
Dear Mrs. Leah Moloch,
Greetings from the NSA Data Center.
Sorry it has taken us so long to get back to you, we've been playing catch up ever since the government shutdown. Two weeks is a long time to basically halt all investigative operations worldwide. Luckily, Members of Congress have finally come to an agreement, and we're up and running again for the time being. Let the espionage begin! (It's a joke we like to say around here.)
About your husband's testicle: losing a testicle is a traumatizing experience most men can't adequately handle. Our brother lost his testicle after a weed whacker went haywire and backfired on him. He lost his left leg too. Sad, really. He was never the same afte
r that, ask any of us. Now he lives in Alaska, where he collects disability checks and makes art using his stub leg. The art is really nice, but the colors are sad. He is constantly on our mind.
Unfortunately, we have no say in how your nephew Michael is treated. We are a research-based institute, not a corrections facility. Also, it wasn't you who tipped us off. No, the person responsible for giving us the information that led to your nephew’s arrest was none other than your husband, Chester. Shocking, we know, but Chester is smarter than you think.
Regardless of how you feel about him when you’re angry, Chester is a real patriot and American lives have been saved due to his diligence. The next time you see his testicle on the mantelpiece, you should be reminded of this. That testicle represents freedom and democracy.
To be honest with you – which we shouldn't, but you’ve opened up to us and we feel obliged to respond – most of us here at the NSA are contract workers. Remember, the American Government is vast and multifaceted, and the person who hands you your latte isn't the same person who made it, nor are they the same person who rang it up, nor are they the same person who filled the pitcher with milk, nor are they the same person who pressed the steam button, nor are they the same person who loaded the espresso into the machine. Think of us as a giant, industrial Starbucks with three times as many managers as we have employees.
Your e-mails have been a source of concern here at our offices due to their sad and potentially threatening nature. Also, it should be noted that we weren't the ones trying to hack into your Yahoo! e-mail account. Actually, it was someone from the Internet Imageboard website, 4chan, who intercepted one of the e-mails you sent us over the summer. Apparently, your e-mails have since become an Internet Meme (Google: Dear NSA meme). Congratulations on your newfound internet fame! Use it wisely.
Dear NSA: A Collection of Politically Incorrect Short Stories Page 3
