Dear Yuantee,
Eight weeks ago, I sought your advice on how to make money, and you advised me to build a chicken coop, raise chickens and sell fresh eggs. "Flawless," you called this awful idea. "Bulletproof," you swore. So naturally, I followed what you would Zhu, and now have no money; six dead chickens; a large, gnarly stash of rotten eggs; an ex-girlfriend; and a broken neck. On top of this, I graduate in six weeks with an English degree and no job prospects. You failed me once, Yuantee, but I want to give you the chance to bail me out of debt. What should I Zhu?
—(Still) Poor On Packard,
PP,
As much as I love hate mail, I am utterly baffled as to how you failed to make lots of money raising chickens — especially with six of them. Did you not try advertising fresh eggs on TuftsLife, by stapling flyers all around campus or by doing whatever the hell the pseudo-overachieving majority of Tufts students like to do to promote its borrowed agendas? No, you didn't? And what about the winter elements? Do I have to go into why winter elements may pose an obstacle to raising chickens? Must I advise you to keep only one or two chickens, not six, and to keep them warm and fertile? I'm fired up! Damn!
Listen, son. I can't spell out every detail for you in 600 words or less. When you assess my advice, you must think outside the chicken coop. Expand on my ideas and fill in the goddamn blanks. The chicken coop is a money-making machine, not to mention a chick magnet, human chicks included. I suggest you try it again.
Now, to address the problem of your ex-girlfriend: For my benefit, I'm going to assume you want advice on how to get her back. Build a chicken coop. Get rich. Get your girl back.
Now, to address the serious problem of graduating with an English degree: I live in a house with three English majors and they're all losers. They're also all poor and always will be. In fact, they are such English-major losers that they planned on building a chicken coop, but instead spent weeks meticulously crafting an email to our landlord asking for permission. Unfortunately, we found out the neighbors on both sides were allergic to chickens. Rotten luck.
As an English major, you don't actually have any easily profitable options. You could be a teacher, but it takes time and money to get certified and you'll be in school for the rest of your life. And school sucks, right? It's always sucked.
Don't worry, though. I've got a couple solid ideas for you, based on what I've gathered about your personality from your letters and my knowledge of English majors. Just make sure to send me a thank-you note and 3 percent of your yearly salary after one of these puppies makes you a wealthy man:
Write other people's papers for money, obviously. Write jokes for The Situation or Brian Agler. Write speeches for Rep. Michele Bachmann (R-Minn.). She's hot and educated-ish. Write for Sarah Palin's TV show, "Alaska." Also hot and educated-ish.
Write songs for the Tufts band Knives For Sale. They play the same 35 original songs every Thursday night at The Burren and could use some new material.
Lay brick. And don't worry, there's nothing wrong with laying brick. My dad laid brick.
Invent something that will be extremely useful to a lot of people and will make you a lot of money.
Marry a wealthy woman, preferably hot and educated-ish.
Buy a plot of land, and commence work on a chicken farm.
At least, that's what I would Zhu.
--
Yuantee Zhu is a senior majoring in biology. He can be reached at Yuantee.Zhu@tufts.edu.
