Good evening friends. By now many of you have had the fortunate experience of meeting me personally, while the rest of you may have only heard of me through legend and simply feel as though we have crossed paths before. Yes, I of course am John's much beloved and talked about infamous penis.
I come to you this evening inspired by recent events taking place in the fine state of Wisconsin (trust me, you don't even want to hear the cheesehead story) and have decided that not only am I going on a temporary labor strike, but to announce that I have also become a member of a local union that exist to protect hard working guys like me from unsavory characters like my boss.
The reality though, is that I enjoy my profession a great deal and take my craft very seriously. All I am asking for is that I am finally given proper safety equipment and to stop being exposed to hazardous environments. The hours suck, I am overworked and underpaid with very little time to rest in between brutally labor intensive shifts. I'd like some healthcare benefits and a little vacation time would be nice every now and again too.
Unfortunately my boss is a real jerk. The guy has very little regard for his own safety let alone mine. Do you have any idea what it's like being trapped down there all day? I'm the only guy on the planet who can be locked in the dark and still look and feel as though I have gotten a sun burn. This is fuckin bullshit.
For example, this is a recent exchange during a trip to the free clinic on a Monday morning after a wild weekend of hard boozing and beating up trim.
Time: 7 am
Location: Free Clinic.
A clearly hungover John limps to the back of an already long line full of impregnated skeezoids and baby mama's getting WIC. The young lady infront of him catches his eye.
John: Good morning.
Girl: Good morning.
John: So what are you in for this morning?
Girl: I'm here for my WIC check, get away from me you fucking creep!
The door opens and the line files into the initial waiting room. There's a lady handing out forms and paper work at the entrance.
John: Good morning, maam.
Lady: Oh, boy. Again?
John: Well, You know how it goes. It was first Friday.
Lady: Geez louis buddy. Just wait here a second.
John: It's ok I know the routine, just hand me the forms and I'll go have a seat.
Lady: No, no. Please, just wait here a second. Hang on.
The lady goes to her desk to make a phone call to the doctor.
Doctor: Hello, Dr. Miguel speaking.
Lady: Yes, Doctor Miguel, he's back!
Doctor: For the love of god, man. Please, hold for a minute.
The doctor proceeds to bow his head and mutter some sort of spanish prayer under his breath. Then grabs a stool and walks over to the cabinet. He pushes some boxes and supplies out of the way, reaches way to the back and pulls out a bottle of Jack Daniels. Takes a huge swig, shakes his head and walks back to the phone.
Doctor: Ok, send him back. I'm ready now.
Lady: Yes, sir.
Lady goes over to John.
Lady: The doctor will see you now, sir.
John: Sweet, a guy could get spoiled by such speedy service. Hope you guys work this quickly the next time I'm in here.
Lady: Good god! This isn't an express pass, sir.
John enters the room, he reaches out his hand to greet the doctor.
Doctor: Oh, umm, one second.
The doctor picks up a latex glove and places it over his hand before he shakes Johns hand.
Doctor: Ok, how can I help you this morning?
John: Well, (details are censored).
Doctor: Ouch, what happened to the last five packages of free condoms we gave you? Don't you ever get sick of coming into this dump?
John: Oh those, I trade them to cab drivers in exchange for rides to the bar.
Doctor: Sigh. Let me examine it.
John pulls down his pants.
John: Before you look, doc, keep in mind it's kind of cold outside today and I'm a little shy.
Doctor: This is quite unique to say the least, never seen one that looks like this before. Where the hell have you been shoving this thing? The reds, the blues, the swirls. It is all very avant garde. I don't know whether to treat it or frame it for the Smithsonian to hang up as a work of art.
End.
Now do you understand my plight? I am just a hard working guy wanting to do his job, but I can no longer work under such detrimental conditions. Until my demands are met I refuse to punch the clock and perform my duties.
I ask that all others in my situation or even those who simply sympathize, join me in this strike and immediately contact your local state representatives to demand that stricter rules and regulations are in place to protect our special interest.
