March 3, 2002

To: Mr. H. Ross Perot, Rich Big Shot, America’s Last Patriotic Businessman

Mr. Perot:

Well, sir, we shoulda listened to ya, I reckon. You told us what was gonna happen, and it all did, only worse. That huge suckin’ noise isn’t just jobs going south to Mexico. Some of them are going north to Canada, too. I guess there are people up there who’ll work for 65 cents on the dollar and sound almost American on the phone. Well, not like real Americans, like from Fort Worth or San Antonio or Lubbock, but close enough to pass for damn Yankees. Naturally, when the questions get too hard they have to call someone in the lower 48 for help, but at that price what can you ask for? Even worse, there are people in India that don’t even sound American but they can send email without enough of an accent for most people to notice, and they’ll work for even less than Canadians, as long as they don’t run out of canned answers an American wrote for them. What in the hell is this world comin’ to? What with good American companies like Dell and HP selling good American computers made in Singapore and Taiwan out of Korean and Japanese parts, then havin’ their tech support done by fureigners, it’ll be a plain wonder if anything still works right in another year or two. Can’t you do something? You and W are our last hope!

So, shorty, how’s your life goin’? I hate your squeaky voice and big ears, but I love your attitude.

By the way, are you hiring? I'll stick in a resumay just in case.

Regards,

-- bubba