Stop holding onto your useless dreams. You may now safely dispose of them—saving money, energy, and natural resources—through the brand new Reduce, Reuse, Recycle Your Dreams Program, brought to you by the Department of Dashed Hopes (DDH).
Curbside recycling is now available for your unachieved dreams. Please place your tear-stained, futile imaginings in the bin labeled DUSTBIN OF HISTORY and leave the bin at your curb. The DDH regularly drops by to pick them up and deliver them to a dream recovery facility, where they will be washed, sorted, reprocessed and implanted in some other idiot with even wilder expectations than you had.
That dream to make a difference (or a cool million) by your 30s is long past its expiration date, it’s pretty clear to everyone but you. Face the facts: you’re living in your parents’ basement amid their obsolete electronics, sleeping on a rock-hard futon, and spending your hours playing on your old Game Boy. It’s time to get rid of your baggage and move on.
The DDH is here for you in that regard.
In addition to the DDH, the Dream Liberation Army (DLA) accepts your gently used, laundered delusions of grandeur. These can be bundled and dropped off at any DLA Center. The DLA is run by Gen X-ers and Millennials who foolishly went for that liberal arts major even though their parents pointed out that jobs in the petrochemical industry are far more lucrative.
Did they listen?
That’s why they are still trying to pay off their college loans. You might consider getting a job at the DLA, even though it pays minimum wage, has part-time hours and no health care benefits except for what you can get, but still not afford, through Obamacare.
Did you know that you can also compost your abandoned hopes? Yes you can! No matter how toxic they have been to your earnings potential and life hopes, your unattained dreams are completely organic, as you can tell by the stinking mess they have made of your life.
Making compost keeps these materials out of your daily life, where they do nothing but maintain your illusions that you still might someday be a member of the middle class.
This is clearly not happening. Get over it.
Compost those suckers by stuffing them way, way, down in your psyche and put on your red shirt and beige pants and get to work retrieving grocery carts from the Super Target parking lot. With any luck, you may wind up in management and put the rest of your generation to work as cashiers and cart retrievers. That’s making a difference isn’t it?