Will Anyone Take the Factory Jobs Trump Wants to Bring Back to America?
It’s time to start realizing your full potential by making American Dildos Great Again!
Trump has pledged his tariffs will bring more factory work back to the U.S. at a time when many manufacturing jobs are already going unfilled.
According to the Wall Street Journal -my newspaper of choice for absolutely nothing- a survey this year by the National Association of Manufacturers of Gruel Bowls and Whipping Chains found nearly half of manufacturing companies say their biggest challenge is recruiting workers.
Explanation? Something about rigid hours, workplace safety and low pay. Piddling little shit like that. Oh: and no healthcare. Things both political parties, YES both parties1, do not give two red hot fecal-rivets in a bucket about.
Employee retention is another problem. If a factory hires 20 new employees, maybe two or three will decide to stay for a career while the rest will quit after a few weeks. Solution? Do what California does with firefighting: put people in prison and then pay them nothing to fight fires with shovels.
But it’s still Donald Trump’s dream to bring factory jobs back to America. Why? Because Trump loves giving Americans shit they don’t want or can’t use. Take Trump Steaks and Trump College for example. And the worst: the Trump College of Steaks.
Let’s face it: Americans hate factory jobs. Our culture screams it. How out of touch do you have to be to have no musical memory of every goddamn song ever written about factory jobs?
Remember Dave McCarn’s 1926 ditty “Cotton Mill Colic”?
I'm a-gonna starve, and everybody will,
'Cause you can't make a living at a cotton mill.
Pete Seeger’s “Song of the Punch Press Operator”?
I got a job in a factory
Feeding a beast that don't like me.
The Kinks’ “Working at the Factory”?
All I lived for, all I lived for
Was to get out of the factory.
Bruce Springsteen’s “Factory”?
Men walk through these gates with death in their eyes.
John Prine’s “Hello in There”?
Someday I'll go and call up Rudy
We worked together at the factory
But what could I say if he asks, "What's new?"
"Nothin', what's with you?
Nothin' much to do"
Paul Simon’s “Richard Cory”?
But I work in his factory. And I curse the life I’m living.
Nobody has anything nice to say about the kind of factory jobs Donald Trump nostalgically pleasures his phantom erections with. Literally nothing with the word “factory” in it has pleasant connotations. Even Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory was an oppressive hell hole. Owned by a dangerous eccentric who derived his riches from enslaving Oompa-Loompas and addicting them to toxic cocoa beans.
And What of America’s Artisanal Dildo Industry?
Has anyone even considered what Trump’s tariffs will do to my artisanal dildo business?
Americans just don’t want to work all day in brick and mortar dildo tool and die factories anymore. They still remember when kids were falling into the vats. And that was on a good day. That 30% tariff will force me to cut 30% off my dildos. The livelihoods of whole villages in China depend on the needs of my customers. For god’s sake I have a shipload of GPS Dick-Dildo Dash Cams anchored outside Long Beach harbor right now. And I’m supposed to pass on that 30% price hike to my loyal customers? You can see how torn up my customers are about this. The American outsourced dildo is the true measure of the American Dream. A big, GPS Cam-Cock J’Accusingly pointing through the oversized windshield of our cartoonishly useless 4x4s we use to cruise to and from the local donut shop. It plugs into the cigarette lighter damnit! The best of all worlds.
On the other hand, what’s so bad about those the gritty, low-paying hazardous jobs our great grandparents performed 12 hours a day, 8 days a week? Reduced to deformed orangutans straining over Gogmagogian-sized wrenches, tightening someone else’s swollen money nuts. Sodium from hours of sweat drying their overalls into stiff, hollow statues of their former selves before they retired to nothing. No Social Security. No Medicare. No company junket safaris to cavort with giraffes. No conventions in Australia to rent koalas or take selfies with quokkas who smile sweetly while waiting for the first opportunity to rip their throats out?
No free facials on “casual Fridays”? Nothing but day after day of “feeding the beast” before they retired to the five remaining years of their lives coughing up asbestos.
Who wouldn’t want to construct sand molds in 700ºC metal casting sheds, grinding iron casings and pouring molten lead for the latest iteration of Elon Musk’s cheek-chin implants? Have we no respect for the pride our ancestors felt losing half their lifespan inhaling metal shavings? Getting shot by strike breakers before they returned to their company dormitories?
It’s time to start realizing your full potential by making American Dildos Great Again!
No, this isn’t “whataboutism,” a term widely used by people who also use “whataboutery.”
You might also like Mourning Remembrance: A Collection of Mocking Obituaries.
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Jim Earl for the slam dunk.
How could you leave out Great Big Sea:
And it's go boys, go
They'll time your every breath
And every day you're in this place
You're two days nearer death
But you go
It’s a cross over, can be used either inside the chemical factories or in the hovels surrounding them.