Rich people live in the sky, with God

While in town, my grandparents took me shopping at Nordstrom. This is a store designed to make people feel poor. I saw fuzzy, multicolored clownskin sweaters go for over a thousand American dollars in this store.

So naturally, when you are shopping for something, they assign an old white man to follow you around and tell you what looks good on you (everything, you handsome devil, you!).

I was waited on literally hand and foot while these people put shoes on my feet and told me which pants looked good on my ass. Not once did these people appear to be down-to-earth people, as you may know that only poor people live on Earth. Rich people live in the sky, with God.

(work, 8-6.)

The salespeople never cracked jokes. I'm not sure if that was because they weren't allowed to or because there was no humor left in their wrinkled, decaying caucasian bodies. I have a feeling if I were to demand platinum cufflinks covered in diamonds and then platinum again, these men would have just politely said, "I'm sorry, sir, we don't carry those. Could I offer you a Swedish taint massage while you try on those khakis?"

I don't know if taint massages actually exist, but if there's any culture I trust with my taint, it's the Swedes.