Well, it's been great, living life amongst all you normal saps and suckers. But I've been called. Yep, the word came down today. I always knew I was destined for greater things, but that was only a gut feeling. I didn't have the hard proof. The indisputable evidence. Haha! But now I do. Oh yes. Say goodbye to Normal Schmoe Jesse. That guy doesn't work here anymore.
You see, the wizards and seers of Wall Street have seen my potential. Yes sir, they've finally come to realize just how vital I am to the forward march of American progress.
Titans of industry! Bow before my burgeoning economic might!
Oh right...what am I going on about? What brought about this sudden, seismic progression from meek worker bee to unstoppable financial Asgardian? Just a little something-something I got in the mail today. Oh, you know. No big deal really. Just a letter from a certain international banking agency advising me - ME - that I was PRE-APPROVED FOR CREDIT.
I'll let that sink in for a minute.
Pre-approved. Do you even understand what that means? That means that my credit record is out there in the wide world, blowing people away with it's swollen biceps of responsibility. My credit pheromones are pumping through the atmosphere, crushing ozone, pimp-slapping the nostrils of respectable business types from Hong Kong to Halifax.
I mean, how does that even happen? I didn't ask for credit. I don't even need credit right now, but this enormous bank, chunky with cash, is coming to me - direct to my mailbox - and offering to give me money. "Take my money," they're saying. "You're so dope with cash that it's probably safer with you than it is here in our massive, machine gun guarded Swiss money Alcatraz."
People are always ragging on the NSA for spying on our business, but what if THIS is the end result of all that hard work?? What if they were just listening to our phone calls and peeping our internet histories to see who should get all the free money? I think we can all agree - especially in light of me being the primary/only benefactor of this grotesque invasion of privacy - that it was probably a good call and totally worth it.
And I know what you're thinking. This is probably some tiny, local bank looking for free viral fame by dropping the keys to the kingdom in some nobody's lap. NO SUH. I don't want to name names, because I don't want all of you feeling bad that they didn't offer you the mad stacks they offered me, but I can assure you this is no mom and pop operation. Do you know who Samuel Motherfucking Jackson is? The only goddamn BLACK JEDI currently known to man??? He reps this company, so you know it's massive. Oh, and what about VIKINGS?? You thought they were all dead and gone like a million years ago? GUESS AGAIN! This credit card company OWNS a whole goddamn HERD of VIKINGS! How does that even happen? They have Jurassic Park technology? They probably found a severed Viking hand in some amber and scienced them all back to life and now they roll the world, chopping off heads and getting sick cash back rewards for going to the movies and shit.
And that's another thing - you might be tempted to think that this is all a ploy to get me to spend money I don't have and then blast me with fees. BOOM. That's where shit gets serious. Because this giant multi-national credit card company wants me to have this money - just have it - and pay no interest for SIX MONTHS. Six months!! I might not even be alive in six months! Cash money and no responsibilities well into the MIDDLE OF SEPTEMBER? And a super dope, completely manageable 22.9% interest rate after that? Call me Al Capone because I'M STRAIGHT ROBBING BITCHES.
And the money? Basically limitless, capped out a cool 5 Gs.
Wait. What's a "G" again?
Lemme just...Oh.
Yeah, anyway, it's basically limitless. All the way up to 5 Hs. You know how many times I can go to Target with $500?? Like, 3 or 4 times. THREE. OR. FOUR.
Phew. My head's getting light just thinking about all this money. I'm gonna need to make some serious life-style changes. Like buying-a-tank-that's-also-a-boat sort of lifestyle changes. Master P territory. I'm gonna have to adopt some kids just to finance their totally shitty rap careers.
Anyway, I have to bounce. Word's probably gotten out about how strong my bankroll just got. If I'm not careful I'm gonna have Stephen Dorff sleeping on my couch in no time, and nobody needs that shit. So peace out, poor-ass homies. It's been real.
