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What do you call it when 1 in 4 parents have reported losing their jobs because of childcare gaps and breakdowns and when politicians, instead of funding affordable childcare, are instead taking away access to birth control and reproductive care? You might be tempted to call it a travesty. Or to remark, “That country must really hate women huh?” But you’d be wrong. You aren’t thinking like a captain of industry. A thought leader. As someone who can fungibly morph bleeding-edge platforms. A person who will proactively incept business results. In sum, you are thinking like a loser. What you call it, you pudding-heads, is a BUSINESS OPPORTUNITY. This week, a Louisiana franchisee of Chick-fil-A, the fast-food chain that serves mid-tier chicken sandwiches on soggy white buns, made the news for offering a three-hour “summer camp” for parents overwhelmed with the summer childcare gaps. Yeah, that’s right, I called the Chick-fil-A sandwich mid. I will die on this hill. You pay all that money and the breading on the chicken is kind of damp and flavorless¹; you get two pickle slices and some sweaty white bread. You want a chicken sandwich? Grow up and get Popeyes². I’ll admit the Chick-fil-A sauce is great, but no sauce can save that clammy-ass bread. For that money, you can just buy your own cheap buns from a store and put a sink sponge inside and you’d have a better meal. And I know what I am talking about. I have eaten Chick-fil-a sandwiches beyond your mortal comprehension. In 2007, my friends ran a Chick-fil-a franchise, and whenever they needed help, I dressed up as the Chick-fil-a cow and they’d pay me in coupons for sandwiches. (Was I child labor?) And I once danced all night at the University of Iowa’s Dance Marathon in a cow costume and received a year’s worth of free sandwiches and I used that privilege. Back to the camps. For $35 per kid, parents can send their kids to a Chick-fil-A location (the Louisiana franchise was apparently inspired by one in Houston, so great news, you’ve got options!) where they will get a meal and learn how to cook, clean, and serve food, just like a little laborer. Does this sound suspiciously like child labor? HOW DARE YOU! It’s not like a company that has had numerous locations repeatedly cited for violating child labor laws would violate child labor laws. Not the company that has already paid out millions of dollars in fines for paying kids in food instead of money! (Editor’s note: Chick-fil-A franchises are locally owned and operated; according to ABC News, “A representative for the company explained … that this is not a corporate program and assured the restaurant staff are still the ones making any food and the children are not doing any work of a hired team member.” Okay, ass covering done.) They are a Christian company. They were founded on the Biblical principles! You know the classic capitalistic values that Jesus preached in his sermon on the Mount – about giving unto others, the meek inheriting the earth, and letting the little children come to him, because they’re lazy and need to get their asses to work.
Honestly, when you think about it, these kids are fulfilling the great commission preached in Matthew 25 to go into all the world, slinging moist white bread with unseasoned chicken. Parents defending the Chick-fil-A “camps” (scare quotes feel necessary here because the whole experience lasts a whopping three hours — some camp!) on Facebook have some good points though. Such as this reason cited in ABC News’ article – “Children love learning [and] experiencing new things.” That’s right. The old “the children yearn for the fast food mines” defense. Solid reasoning. Another supporter wrote, “It’s nice to see an offer to teach young children about work ethic and responsibility while having a little fun at the same time.” That’s right. These little smatchetts who can’t even perform long division need to learn how to have their souls crushed for a minimum wage job that exploits them and leaves them exhausted at the end of the day, still barely unable to afford the very chicken that they made. Learn early, that’s capitalism, baby. I personally taught my kids these hard lessons the old-fashioned way by indenturing them to a brutal silversmith. It was unfortunate when a cracked crucible leaking molten silver absolutely destroyed my son’s hand while he made a silver dish for John Hancock. But it’s fine. Later, a soldier fixed his hand so he could fire guns. You know what, I think this idea is genius. Here are some other people and businesses I want to see start offering childcare.
I just want to point out here that Chick-fil-A, which was founded on Southern Baptist values and whose founders oppose same-sex marriage, is not out here pressuring America to fund a social safety net and raise the minimum wage. But they⁴ sure are profiting off it. And now for something goodThe Supreme Court today released a ruling ensuring access to mifepristone. It was a nearly unanimous ruling. And I say “nearly” because I haven’t heard what Justice Martha Ann Alito has to say yet.
A town rose up against a terrorizing crocodile and ate it. And why is Australia so hilarious like this? What I am drinkingLast Sunday, I and 14 others completed Relay Iowa – a 339-mile relay across the state, whose goal is to raise money for nonprofits. The nonprofits we chose to support were Iowa Abortion Access Fund and Iowa Trans Mutual Aid.
The relay is not a race. Despite how many men doing 6-minute miles passed me on the road outside of Dayton, Iowa, it’s not a race. It’s really more of a quest. How can you and your team run across the state in 2.5 days with no sleep and too much breakfast pizza?
It requires a lot of communication and pop tarts. It requires forcing yourself to cheer people on when you’d rather just lie down in the road and cry. It requires caring about the people around you more than your paces, more than your miles, more than your own goals. This is my second year doing this relay. And I had a better time this year than last year. Last year, I learned that I wasn’t going to sleep, so any sleep I did get was to be treasured rather than resented for not being long enough. I made sure to stretch this time. And trained a little better in the months beforehand. But really I had a better time this year, because I knew that going in it was about doing this silly deranged thing with friends and strangers and the point of it was that I was doing a silly thing with friends and strangers and maybe making our state a little bit better. The relay was about working together. And it was about seeing the state I love in a way I never get to – at night with a sky full of stars, small towns in the evening rain, dirt roads in the midafternoon sun. We all ran the last mile together. Some people had to slow down. Some had to speed up. But we all got there together. And it felt so important to me to realize that if I’d just wanted to run 33.5 miles in 2.5 days, I could have. I could go hard alone. But I was choosing to go together. That’s community. That’s my antidote to despair. Going together. During the relay, we kept making jokes about what our reward was. At night, we ran with glow sticks and people joked that the rave was the reward. Tony Ho Tran, a teammate and journalist from Chicago, told us the Malort was the reward. Tony is a real sicko. So when we finished the race, we got back to my house and we all toasted with a shot of Malort. Which was a terrible idea for me, personally, because I got the stomach flu that night. And I’ll spare you the details. So, this week, I had a beer, a shot of Malort, and a lot of Ginger Ale. But also, I got to explain the fever dream of Wild Wild West, starring Will Smith, to the youth over the weekend. So, now you all have to remember that “Bailamos” by Enrique Inglesias absolutely slaps.  1 Mid-tier white meat and soggy buns also accurately describes my past couple of relationships. HEY-YO! 2 All food opinions held by this newsletter are not ever a joke and should be taken very seriously and as a direct attack on you personally. 3 All cursed daycare jokes from Jenny McCarthy on down to the Congressional Page Program were the brainchildren of my friends Anna Marsh and Kate Johansen and I cannot take credit for them. 4 THEIR FRANCHISEES. FRANCHISEES. DO NOT SUE US! WE CANNOT AFFORD IT!
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