C/O Union Representative, 13 Sweatshop Way, Heaven
Dear Amalgamated C & S Members,
I am in receipt of your request for a reduction to an 80-hour work-week, that singing praises to My name no longer be mandatory, installation of snack machines in all office areas and institution of a minimum wage.
I have carefully read your proposal and, in the spirit of negotiation that I think I am rightly famous for, here is My counter-proposal:
Piss off, you ungrateful bastards! Get back to work before I use your guts for garters. You think I can’t whip up a batch of mindless, automaton scabs to replace you? It’s just one thing after another with you, isn’t it? No wonder the mayor of New York calls union members thugs and the DoD says unions are a threat to national security.
You think you’ve got Me by the short hairs, but I’ve been preparing for something like this ever since the time I lost so many employees to Beelzebub, LLC. Around about 120 BC I started recording all business meetings attended by union members. That’s right. By the way, for those of you who are always bitching that I don’t provide pastry in meetings, you can just ask Archangel Josh why there never seems to be enough for everyone to have one. And Archangel Stan? I don’t know what kind of unholy rituals you’re performing with all the coffee stirrers, but one per cup should be sufficient for whatever it is.
As if Grand Theft weren’t enough to squash this disgusting power-grab of yours, I have a very interesting tape of the meeting just prior the the Jesii’s birth. If you open the attached package, you will find a copy of said tape. However, before you do, let Me advert you to page 721, section MMCLXIII, paragraph ii of your contracts.
“Backsassing, insolently goggling eyes at, quoting facts or otherwise disagreeing with Employer constitutes Sin.”
If you recall from your employee handbooks, distributed and signed for on Day One, the wages of sin, (much less, Sin) are, in fact, Death. As everyone knows, I Am not only Love, but a merciful Gawd. However, this tape clearly shows that every single one of your Archangel representatives backsassed, made that goggly-eye face at Me, frowned in My presence and, (Archangel Bob especially), quoted facts about biology and astrophysics. So you see, My hands are tied. These Archangels are your duly-elected representatives. They, by their very nature, represent all of you. Therefore, you are responsible for anything they do; ergo – you’re in deep shit.
I just don’t know how I could possibly let you off. I mean, rules are rules, right? There’s nothing I can… hang on. An answer to your predicament has just occurred to Me. maybe, just maybe I can talk Myself into letting you off with, say, a pay-cut and a work-hour increase if you’re willing to negotiate in good faith. If you give a little, say by dropping these niggling demands of yours, then I think I can see My way clear to refrain from wiping out the entire workforce.
Let Me know what you think. Just leave a message with the front desk of the Fullerton Hotel, Singapore.
Wish You Were Here,