Slavery for Fun and Profit
About a year ago, I discovered Slavery Footprint, which tracks the “virtual” slaves behind our posh lives here in the world’s last, great empire. Because I’m a Luddite who wears the same clothes for 20 years (or until they fall to pieces like some sort of lunatic castaway leaping around on the shore of an uncharted island), I only have 26 slaves. Most of my friends have around 55 slaves.
At first, I felt a touch superior in the knowledge that I had a smaller slavery footprint, but then I became jealous. I want to have 55 slaves. In fact — fuck this virtual thing — I want to actually own these slaves.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that I can’t possibly maintain 26 real slaves. This is because you’re trapped in your own world and you don’t really understand slavery. The stupid little Cambodian kids who poured their blood, sweat, and tears into my sneakers got paid about 15 cents a day. I pay $4 for a cup of coffee every day. I can pay the wages for all 26 of my slaves simply if I stop drinking coffee.
Housing is simple. Twenty-six slaves really isn’t a big number. I’d get a plot of land, preferably with some existing buildings, out in West Virginia. I’d like a barn, which I’ll convert into my all-in-one factory run by my slavemaster (he’s a vicious former Khmer Rouge death camp guard that I’ll pay in Tecate and 12 year old boys from my existing slave pool). The factory will make shoes, shirts, and knock-off iPhone parts (all of which I’ll resell for top dollar on eBay, of course). The 26 slaves can live together in two shipping containers, locked at night. My Khmer Rouge guard will sleep in the upper limbs of a nearby tree where he’ll rape squirrels…or whatever it is that turns him on. To be honest, I turn a blind eye on who or what he’s raping and carving up. This is business, after all. We have to try and be professional and not let emotions get in the way.
The initial investment isn’t that high. I’ve been looking at acreage in West Union, WV. Secluded, away from the main highway, and dirt cheap. An 88 acre farm with three well-kept existing buildings runs for $259,000. I’d certainly get approved for that loan. A couple of storage containers will run a few thousand. I admit, there is a bit of a start-up cost there that would make me take it very seriously if one of my slaves tried to run away, which is why all of their feet will be broken as soon as I bring them to West Union.
Water is easy. We’ll sink a well and they can drink West Virginia ground water. The farm I’ve picked out has a well system already, as well as a couple of wind turbines and solar panels. It’s currently self-sufficient, though I imagine there will have to be upgrades for the factory.
Food is easy, too. There’s lots of protein in dog food — in fact, from a nutrient standpoint, two cups of dog food a day is better than what most of us eat in a week. So…Costco membership, and giant bags of dog food. Easy enough, and certainly within the budget. There are, of course, no medical costs with slaves. We just throw them in the river when they die. Besides, they’ll constantly be making new slaves thanks to my rape-happy Khmer Rouge slavemaster. God…that guy. Doesn’t speak of lick of English, either. I’ve got him installed in an apartment in White Oak, MD right now. All he does, all day, is drink gin and masturbate furiously onto a 27X40 framed picture of Kate Middleton. Weird.
I’ll be honest with you — it’s either get my slaves installed in West Union or give my Khmer Rouge slavemaster 3 gallons of gin and a switchblade and pen him into the Silver Spring Transit Center construction site.