Give Me Your Money

My bleeding heart went into cardiac arrest the other day when one of my best financial supporters for handouts for the helpless hesitated to hand over a few dollars more to help me help the homeless help themselves. I cried myself to sleep in Sonjia DeSade's arms.

I am a tireless selfless worker for those that nobody cares about. But to do this good work, I need your money. I need your disposable income. I need you to work volunteer hours at my telemarketing operation. I need you to write letters to our uncaring government to demand that taxes be raised, that an additional dollar a liter levy be put on gasoline to fund research into global warming. All it takes is a fistful of dollars, your dollars.

Yes, I need you to help me so that I can help myself to the government money that I need to fund saving the lives of the starving billions in Africa, the hopeless urban youth, and the forgotten homeless. I ask the good, the bad and the ugly questions that get the answers.

Let me point to my consistent track record of success.

Mitchieville is free of crime and despair now that our most vulnerable village peoples have been pre-evacuated to a hurricane safe community just outside of the abandoned radioactive asbestos mine at Elliot Lake Ontario. There, they receive the food, help, and sex reassignment surgery they need to become empowered members of the sex trades crafts village peoples. Without the spiritually centered vegetarian diet, the authentic First People's pre-contact living conditions, and the spending tokens generated from the telemarketing call center I established, these helpless people would be left to die on the uncaring streets of Toronto of hunger and disease. Many is the time that the Mayor and I have sat in the village long house and heard the happy hoots of joy as a fresh bucket of nutritious bran mush was shared among the Looter-Canadians.

Africa is a happier place now that they know that The Mayor and Fenris Badwulf are raising money to purchase used ballet shoes to begin planning a midnight ballet school in war torn Darfur. Make my day and help African Activists by giving me your money so that I redistribute your wealth.

Extinction of the seals has been pushed back a few days now that The Mayor and Fenris Badwulf has gathered almost enought money to train the homeless in canoe building from recycled materials so that our canoe activists can have canoes so that they can wave signs and chant hip hop anthems at the blood thirsty white heteronormative seal killers.

Lake Ontario will not boil away in global warming this weekend. Why? Because the Mayor and Fenris Badwulf have started a telemarketing campaign to raise money by selling chocolate covered dog kibble to fund a research group and activist awareness campaign to fight opponents of Kyoto.

The list goes on and on. I am unable to list all the caring initiatives when my eyes are flooded with tears and my hands dirty from handling cash and my finger sore from dialing to my Cayman bank on the payphones at random locations throughout the Greater Toronto Area.

I need your help. I need to fund a scholarship for the bag lady I have on record as my accountant to attend school to obtain her Chartered Accounting designation so that she will not face unjust criminal charges of misrepresentation after I affixed her signature to taxation documents.

Help me help you so that I can help myself to your money so that I can spend it to tell you what you want to hear without witnesses or evil authoritarian concepts like accountablity.

I accept Visa, MasterCard, and/or American Express.

Give Me Your Money.

(If you act now, your name will be entered into a draw to attend a wine and cheese fundraiser for the Liberal Party of Canada, headlining one of our activist Supreme Court Justices)

My name is Fenris Badwulf, and I care.