Dear George,
I’d like to try and explain the gas crisis in terms you can understand.
I’m not going to talk about single mothers, or poor people, or black people, or the elderly on fixed incomes. Instead, I’d like you to imagine, if you will, a group of fraternity guys. Can you see them, dressed in their Polo shirts, and khaki Dockers, and brown loafers, and Abercrombie & Fitch baseball caps? Imagine that they’re planning a party to be held after the big football game on Saturday.
Surely you can imagine that, George. Once upon a time you were one of those guys.
Now, here’s the tragedy. Rather than buying three kegs for the party, they’re only going to be able to afford two. And do you know why? Because they’ve spent all their money filling up their Explorers and Yukons and Tahoes and Suburbans and Pathfinders and all their other 12-mpg SUVs. SUVs that have “W the President” stickers on the back windows.
Their reputation is on the line here, George. How is their frat going to be known for “great keggers” when they run out of beer before midnight?
And that’s not all. These gas prices are really hurting them. Instead of getting Bud or Michelob like they usually do, they’re going to have to step down to Natty Light.
They may even have to forego the bottle of Everclear 151 they use to spike the beer so the sorority girls at the party will get extra drunk.
George, this is SERIOUS. I know you can’t relate to poor people or black people, but you can relate to these guys. These frat guys are SUFFERING. So please. Do something. Work with Congress. Get those gas prices down.