A Little Compassion, Please

Dear Americans, I sit here somber and with a heavy heart. And I ask for your compassion. As I type now my eyes, clouded in tears, are drawn out through my picture window to the empty spot on my drive. The brand new pick up there sits like a lonely star in a clouded midnight sky. Again, I ask for you compassion. I have for sometime been victim to a need so dear it could tear my very life apart. It is not alcohol, drugs, gambling, or sex addiction...I need A Hummer H2. This is where you come in. I can not afford an H2 and I ask, no I beg, for you in your compassionate hearts to do this one simple thing for me. A quick call or letter to your representatives and senators asking for a infinitesimal tax hike here or an added fee there would be all it would take to save my very soul from the dark abyss that lies before it. I am sure you feel, right now, somewhat skeptical, but give me a moment and hear my tail of woe.
The mistakes and bad decisions I’ve made follow me back as far as I can remember. I recall as a young lad working hard in school. As a naive child, I believed it was important to study hard, get good grades, and instill in myself a love of learning. For this I apologize, but understand I was so young. If only I’d been more worldly, and had the wisdom to ignore my teachers, how much better off I’d be today. I could now have a weekly social security check for my inability to read. A Link card for my food and rent. And whatever various government sponsored programs I need to enable my weaknesses.
Then as a teen and into my early twenties I opted out of college and worked odd jobs. They never paid a living wage. Never had vacations, profit sharing, or child care. How the owners of those businesses slept at night I will never know. Never had health insurance. Sometimes worked 80 hours a week to get by. Sometimes did not even have enough free cash for a good well balanced meal with the minimum RDA of all vitamins and minerals. It was hard not to be pulled into easy money options, if you know what I mean. But I wasn’t, and I apologize for that. The decisions I made to work hard and long and stay on the right side of the law, in retrospect I realize, came from my inability to make good judgements. Had I slid into a life of crime, I could have looked forward to 3 balanced meals, daily exercise, and even cable TV.
Even now I am a victim to the societal pressures forced upon me. Pressures to keep a job, be a good citizen, a good family man, and be decent to my fellow human beings. And unfortunately, I do not have the strength of character to tear these shackles off and break free. To live as say, a drug addicted street person harassing those poor souls unlucky enough to come within earshot of my ranting. Or as a man who jumps from bed to bed leaving nothing behind but fatherless children scraping by on no child care. Or as one so lazy and apathetic that I spend my days in front of my big screen from rent-a-center, with my true friends Jerry and Ricky, wondering if the Pay Day Loan center will be stupid enough to cash another of my checks. But, I have chosen none of those lives and for that I am deeply sorry and ask once again for your compassion. I see now, that as a man I have made such terrible decisions.
Yet still, with a hole in my heart as large as the gargantuan emptiness in my cement drive, I beg of you to find some caring place in your souls. To forgive the errors of my days. And to call and write your congressmen and demand they help one poor soul. Demand they take fairly earned profits from those who rightfully earned them and give me this one small treasure.
Oh yeah, I want black, with leather, and a sun roof.