Ignorance is Bliss

I usually perform a small task while the Refugee does hard and tedious labor so he does not feel like a servant who makes our meals and is then sent back to his ghetto. This way, the Refugee remains slightly less aware of just how shitty things are for him. This works much in the same manner as the escapist television programming to which the Refugee is obviously and hopelessly addicted. Glut the poor sucker's mind with vapid deviations and he will never ask for more; thus, the present social structure is firm, and justifiably, stable. The way god intended. Much like the way the Refugee thinks I "accidentally" cut the kiwi "wrong". While my manner of cutting the kiwi did not create an even distribution of seeds and sweetness, I assure you I got the good parts and the Refugee did not. Accident, indeed...

To add a flavour of excitement to your lives: Who's ready for some football food? While the crowd lounges and drinks beer and watches football and probably engages in a little domestic violence with the rest of the drunken public, the Refugee will be slaving away to cater Superbowl Sunday in Seattle. The menu will include traditional, gluttonous football food which has made all us Americans so goddamn fat, and maybe a few nontraditional items. Pictures of food and lewd behavior are promised.