People all over the world dedicate their lives to helping the less fortunate. They give a voice to the voiceless and hope to the hopeless. Their sacrifice inspires me. That’s why, this holiday season, I’m gift-wrapping luxury automobiles.
You’re probably sitting at home in your cable-knit cardigan next to a crackling fire — the type that could heat unsafe drinking water to a satisfactory level of sanitation — thinking about what you might get the misses for Christmas. But the same old diamond jewelry , mined on the backs of African children , doesn’t have the same, shall we say, peak-of-civilization extravagance your queen deserves. She needs a new Lexus. And I’m here to gift-wrap it for her.
Tiffany’s has a little blue box in which to hide blood-money diamonds. Hermes has an orange box in which to hide crocodile skin handbags. A comically large red ribbon affixed with some double-sided tape to the roof of your new sedan is the extra touch this gift needs to really make it pop.
Just be sure and keep the ribbon on for much longer than you would with a normal gift-wrapped item. That way the neighbors will know the car was a gift and not the result of a well-discussed plan between consenting adults who jointly manage the affairs of a household. What are you, schoolteachers?
Remember, it’s the thought that counts, especially for someone who doesn’t have to worry where her next meal is coming from — unlike the 15.8 million children in America who go to bed hungry every night. Besides, I don’t mind doing it. You know why? Because I get it. I. Get. It. I understand that going from Point A to Point B isn’t enough. What are you doing, migrating south due to seasonal drought and failed crops?
Time was you’d buy a car for basic transportation. But thanks to unrelenting advertising, planned obsolescence, and a bottomless dissatisfaction with your life — a life the 3 billion people who live on less than $2.50 a day would consider downright opulent — those dull, pragmatic days are a thing of the past.
I’m happy to gift-wrap this luxury sedan. You know why? Because you haven’t shaved in a few days and you’re oddly tan for this time of year — not unlike the exposed skin of migrant workers who pick blueberries for your morning smoothie — and that is a look that screams Money! How rugged and rich!
Gift-wrapping luxury motor coaches is why I get up in the morning. Other people have their calling. I have mine. It’s how I make a difference in this cruel, dark world.