A Serious Look at World Hunger
I am a self-centered, lazy American. I'm not fat, but that's only because I still have a high metabolism. I plan to be overweight by the time I'm 40. When I'm not hitting Taco Bell drive-thrus on my way home from work, I'm ordering out for pizzas and chinese food. I sit in front of my computer constantly playing any computer game I can get my grubby little fingers on. So I guess its not so hard to believe that I couldn't give two shits about world hunger. Let the fuckers starve. Its not my fault they were born in a godforsaken wasteland.
That is how I felt approximately four hours ago before my life was changed. As the scales fell from the eyes of the apostle Paul on the road to Damascus, so too have my eyes been opened. Never again will I be so callous to the needs of others. Instead of wasting my money on extra value meals, I have purchased several large bags of white rice and a Black and Decker steamer. This will provide me with the nutrition I need for several months and the money I save is going directly to the UN World Food Programme.
What happened to change my life so dramatically you ask?
It all started when a long lost friend linked me to http://www.food-force.com. This site, run by a radical faction within the United Nations, was offering a free computer game for download. Now like I said, I had no interest in helping to feed hungry people, but how could I resist the temptation to download a 221 MB installer file? Especially when I realized I could publish my high scores out to the food-force website! Had the download page not contained an emaciated, big lipped black girl staring forlornly off camera at her mother being shot by rebels, I might have ejaculated on my keyboard.
With the download complete, I began the install process. A few "nexts" and one "finish" later, I was staring at the title screen of my brand new computer game. I couldn't wait to get started, especially when I saw the hot piece of ass assigned to accompany me on my journey. For what seemed like hours I sat staring, imagining what it would be like to yank those khaki shorts down over those slim 12 year-old boy hips and... Yeah, eventually I got around to clicking the "Start Game" button and then the real fun began.
Now this is the Tale of Our Castaways...
The game centers around a group of sorry saps, who for no apparent reason, have decided to live on a small island paradise in the middle of the Indian Ocean. When not being washed away by monster tsunamis or being crushed by flimsy mud huts definitely not up to earthquake codes, the people of Sheylan spend their time engaged in harvesting poppy seeds and playing coconut freeze tag.
Unfortunately for the Sheylanites, Irresponsible countries with modern technology have been pumping massive amounts of fossil fuels into the atmosphere causing the degradation of the environment and resulting in a massive drought.
The drought destroys the poppy seeds that the Sheylanites had been using for their bran muffins and now they are in danger of starving. Since Arby's had no plans to open a franchise on their island the only hope for these people is the kind-hearted members of the World Food Programme.
It is as if the weight of the world has suddenly landed on my shoulders. I realize that I will be playing a vital role in the feeding of these people. If I fail, the ultimate price will be paid. First the children and the elderly will go. Their vital organs will shrivel and the flies will suck out their eyeballs. Then the young adults will battle over who gets to eat the corpses. Then a young boy named piggy will have his head impaled on a wooden stake...
The horror is almost too much for me to bear and my hands are shaking as I click on Mission one.
Target: Hungry People
I fly into Sheylan with Carlos Sanchez, the coordinator of the program and we immediately head for a helicopter. Our mission is to fly all over the island and find hungry people. Our helicopter is equipped with a searchlight that shines, even during daylight hours. The searchlight is linked up with Global Positioning Satellites and when it detects human DNA, it sends the coordinates back to WFP headquarters. As long as the people we find don't move, we should be able to get food to them within the next couple of months.
Carlos flies the helicopter making poignant observations about the dire situation. Meanwhile, I'm left with the sinking feeling that I'm actually painting targets for US tomahawk missiles.
We only have two minutes to find the hungry people. Apparently the helicopter is a rental and we've got to get it back before we start incurring late fees. Carlos flies like a madman and I'm working the searchlight like a lesbian on a double-ended dildo. Even so, I didn't think we had a prayer. However, the island was small and all the Sheylanites were walking aimlessly around outside their mud huts so we got a perfect score.
The Formula of Life
Mission 2 finds us back at WFP headquarters. According to a smarmy metrosexual with man titties, we can't send just any food to the Sheylanites. The natives of this island are black, and thus, their food must have heavy doses of red beans and rice.
After punching him in the nuts for talking smack to my bitch, I went into the lab to begin working on a formula for the food packs that met the special nutritional requirements of the Sheylanites and added up to a total cost of thirty cents per pack (now that's a value meal).
I work feverishly to find the right combination. Once again, time is of the essence. I have to find correct formula for the packets within 2 minutes. The task is made no easier by the fact that fag-boy keeps whispering hot nutritional facts in my ear.
Even so, after trying numerous combinations, I was able to find the right one. Carlos was pleased and sent the information we'd gathered off to Rome. As I stared at the information, I suddenly realized that for the price of a teaspoon of Starbucks coffee, I could feed a hungry child.
There, Up in the Sky, Its a Bird, Its a UN Plane...
At last, we were done jerking off and it was time to feed some Sheylanites! I boarded a UN C-130 and was informed by Carlos that I would be riding in the back of the plane with the door open! Fuck.
I was back there with bag fulls of food packets and the idea was to try and get the food to land on a spot of ground unoccupied by Sheylanites. Now this was a lot trickier than it sounds because the Sheylanites are so hungry that they try to catch the bags before they hit the ground snapping their fragile bones like twigs.
My first drop didn't go so well. I didn't take the wind into account and Carlos quickly informed me as to the shitty job I was doing.
After awhile I started to get the hang of it though and Carlos seemed to quickly forget the crushed Sheylanites from the first drop.
Back to the Drawing Board
With the emergency drops complete, things were really coming together for the Sheylanites and I thought they'd be living happily ever after. Unfortunately, I was informed by a pissed off black guy that all our supplies had been used up on the drops and we needed to acquire more through the goodwill of other countries. And if we couldn't depend on the goodwill of other countries, we could at least count on them to sell us some food.
And so I sat in front of a status board for what seemed like hours, looking for good deals and then dragging and dropping them into the Food Supply Plan. All the while the pissed off black guy jeered at me as if I was some kind of lazy American loser who had no idea what I was doing.
As usual, I had a two minute time limit which made perfect sense since I was planning the logistics for delivering food to the Sheylanites for the next six months. Through blind luck or perhaps divine intervention, I somehow managed to come up with a plan that satisfied the black guy. Then it was back to Sheylan where I was reunited with my bitch.
Eastbound and down, 18 Wheels are Rollin'
JB Hunt's truck driving school never prepared you for this. That's right, it's time to start delivering all these acquired supplies to the villages that need them. The problem is that the roads are bad, the rebels are restless, and there are hundreds of landmines from a past civil war strewn around. This will be no simple jaunt down Interstate 10. But with Rachel by my side, how can I fail? I hopped in the cab, started up the diesel and we were off.
We hadn't been crusing long down a muddy dirt road when suddenly we blew a tire. Fortunately we had a spare and I had one minute to unscrew the seventeen lugnuts. This was a lot tougher than it sounds... actually no it wasn't. A blind hedgehog could have done it.
So we took off again, thinking we were in the clear. Unfortunately, it was not to be. Rachel began screaming incoherently and the screen started flashing red.
Well you heard it from Rachel. No way are we giving this food to hungry Sheylanite rebels. So now my quick tongue is the only thing that stands between my healthy body and a bullet riddled corpse thrown by the side of the road.
Now I don't really have any experience negotiating with pissed off rebels and so the computer, sensing my ignorance, magnanimously offered me three possible canned responses to the head rebel's questions.
After trying the other responses and being told that they were incorrect, I decided that honesty was the best policy. I was then asked by the rebels if they could have some of the food. Even though they had guns, the correct answer was no and they inexplicably let us through anyway.
But we had a long way to go and there were yet more obstacles to be overcome. Maybe those clever Sheylanite rebels had let us through because they knew that they had blown up the bridge. What they didn't count on though, was that we could fabricate a bridge out of thin air. We even had a premade set of blueprints.
I had that bridge built with time to spare and used the spare time to smack Rachel's ass, just to remind her that she was still my bitch. And not long after we crossed the bridge, we arrived in the village where I paid a Sheylanite hooker with American dollars to smack Rachel's ass some more. Who would have thought a WFP employee could be so dirty?
The Sheylanites were no longer in immediate danger of starving. But we don't want to have to go through this tedious process every time global warming causes their crops to fail. So fag-boy is back and he wanted me to help him run several projects that would help a Sheylanite village build the infrastructure it would need to survive a drought. It sounded tough, but fag-boy informed me all I had to do was drag and drop WFP supply bags into the five different sections of the village. Surely it couldn't be that easy...
Feed the World
Now that the Sheylanite village was able to sustain itself, it was at long last time to part ways with my friends at the World Food Programme. I shook hands with everyone and assured them that my time with them had left an indelible mark upon me. Then I took Rachel to the back of a supply truck and left an indelible mark upon her.
And so now I move on. My life has changed forever. Hopefully what I've shared with you today changes your life as well. If it has, send me some money. I'll make sure the WFP gets it.