As a destitute freelance writer who's been subsisting on a steady diet of Folger's crystals and saltine packets (for protein), I'm sure you can imagine my excitement when I saw the perfect ghostwriting gig advertised on Craigslist: "Emotional Writer Needed For Support Community for Affluent Individuals (SF)."

The ad, posted on Sunday, put out the call for a blogger to talk about "providing psychological support for the problems money brings – family tensions, unfulfillable expectations, boredom, etc." and the writer is expected to have been born wealthy or acquired an intimate understanding of what it means to be filthy rich, which this hired gun will soon be anyway, as the salary provided by this "Community for Affluent Individuals" is $90 a week. The "big bucks," as we call 'em over our nightly trash can fires under the freeway overpass.

This "first world problems" blog could end up being a big hit, with posts ranging from "Top Ten Reasons Dad Won't Let Me Borrow The Lambo" to "Why Do Threadcounts Only Go Up To 1200?" and "What's That Maid's Name Again?" Luckily, since all poor people fantasize endlessly about what it would be like to be rich, it shouldn't be too much of a stretch to convince the Rockefellers you're secretly writing for that you're rich too. Just namedrop a lot of brands mentioned in mainstream hip-hop, and try to fit the word "indubitably" into as many sentences as possible. Maybe end the e-mail with "As dictated by Your Name." After all, tricking rich people into giving you their money is the primary concept behind trickle-down economics – that is, after the rich trick the poor into giving them all of THEIR money. 

There's something wonderfully endearing about the fact that the wealthiest complainers of San Francisco can't even write their own series of first world problems and are willing to part with some of their inheritance just to have someone else complain for them. Also they're unable to open attachments. Typical. But we shouldn't judge too harshly, I mean, being rich is a straight up hassle; what with the difficulty in evicting the poors from the more desirable neighborhoods, the Google bus protests making them late for work, the indignity of having to deal with that weird subway smell (just kidding, rich people on the Muni? Ridiculous), and the overwhelming difficulty in finding a quality barber for your dog (Hint: Market & Guerrero).

Anyway, good luck getting this once-in-a-lifetime gig, jobless freelance writers of San Francisco, (which by now has become more of an honorary title given to the legions of unemployed still clinging to their rent control).

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