Mostly rambles, few brambles
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Greetings to my Forever Friends and my Favorite Family,
Apologies for the mass email, you four-hundred-odd personal heroes, but this really is the easiest way to shill. You are all so uniquely special and have always been there for me—or at least existed somewhere—which is why, and on no other basis, I’m certain I can rely on you to support my new business, Trash Trinkets by Tracy!
I know, you’re thinking, “How much is this going to cost me for a glorified craft?” The answer is at least twenty-nine dollars or, if you prefer, chronic lingering guilt from disappointing your biggest fan.
Don’t think of this as a no-win situation of either funding my subpar creative outlet or objectively caving to your own heartlessness and completely disregarding my self-esteem, my new conflated passion, and my need for your disposable income dollars.
—I mean, yes, that’s exactly the situation, but don’t think of it like that. Consider, instead, the opportunity to do all of your holiday shopping at once, assuming your loved ones and your own heroes enjoy locally sourced, handmade jewelry that does, occasionally, provoke crow attacks.
I start by foraging for only the best materials—copper wire, baby food lids, perfectly good broken mirrors—and then I hot glue and twist-tie it all together into a garbled, pendulous, breathtaking mass. Though my rugged, raw, ratty style does turn heads, it also may cause skin irritation and, once, pacemaker malfunction. These, however, are statistically small risks when compared to larger numbers. Generally, my pseudo-smelting-accident hunks adorned with bits of rag will revert back to garbage quickly enough and before any ringworm can gain a real foothold.
Twenty-nine dollars isn’t a lot, and hence, refusing my wares would be taken as a personal affront, and would reveal that all the years when I thought of you as a role model were but a hollow grift on your part—looking at you, Mom, Dad, and your wealthier friends (who, if you could, please forward this email to).
Weaponizing guilt is impolite, I know, but it seems profitable, and I really need money now that I’ve broken up with Corporate America. Not to get into too many details, but it was mutual (it wasn’t you, it was me). Both of us were mature and realized that I couldn’t thrive in a place where I couldn’t express myself artistically and they couldn’t trust me to stop stealing computers.
Titles and corner offices are nice, but, frankly, I prefer working on a craft thingy from my couch whenever I’m tired of getting high and watching TV. Corporate America, though, thank you for that lesson, and for teaching me that if you’re fired for theft it will be considered gross misconduct and your unemployment claim will be denied.
Let me know how many pieces or how much gross tonnage you would like to purchase to feel you have appropriately supported me. Also, if anyone knows how to get on Medicaid, or any sort of free government money, I would appreciate it. (Dad, didn’t you say you used to know that guy from the commercials with the question-mark jacket?)
Love you all, unless you don’t buy anything and unequivocally betray me and my dreams.