The workplace of Infinity Textiles was thrown into disarray this morning as the company announced it’s discontinuing employee HMO plans and only offering pricey PPO ones. CEO Chuck Woolrus flew into Minnesota himself to deliver the news, doing so in the most honest and efficient manner possible.

   “Let me open by saying go fuck yourself,” said Woolrus. “There’s absolutely nothing you can do about this, so fuck you, fuck off, go fuck yourself and shut up. I don’t care about any of you or your dumb problems. If you have complaints, please toss them into a sack of honey roasted dicks and throw the bag and yourself into a ravine. Please hold all questions until I’ve left the premises. Thank you for your time, and also fuck you.”

   HMO plans were $30 per month, but PPO ones will be a minimum of $174 monthly. Woolrus admitted he doesn’t like having to deliver news like this.

   “I don’t like having to deliver news like this, mainly because it requires me to visit you,” said Woolrus. “I hate it here. This building sucks, this town sucks, and all of you are ugly. Super ugly. Your computers are old, which depresses me but not enough to buy you new ones. A lot of you look and dress as if you listen to Weird Al Yankovic cassette tapes in your car on the way to work. I feel absolutely nothing for you or your smelly hobo families. If you don’t like this, feel free to quit. We’ll just replace you with another person who looks like they listen to Weird Al Yankovic cassette tapes.”

   Not giving a hot shit about employees was a central theme in Woolrus’ 90 second speech. He reiterated multiple times how worthless the working class is and how catering to them in any way is the equivalent of shoving money up his own ass and then immediately crapping it out into a toilet again.

   “Giving you quality health insurance is the equivalent of shoving money up my own ass and then immediately crapping it out into a toilet again,” said Woolrus. “I know you’ve been raised to think you’re special, but you’re all dipshits. That’s why you work here. Your jobs are just meaningless busywork to keep you from roaming the streets and molesting others who are more useful to society. If all 60 of you were murder raped by a clown tomorrow, we’d have replacements hired and trained within a day. I honestly didn’t know any of you existed until this morning, and I will forget before I leave the building. If you don’t like it, feel free to shove your entire first up your own butt.”

   Despite briefly hinting that he knows his employees exist, which longtime workers found quite flattering, Woolrus was quick to return to the main topic of why he enjoys slapping his proverbial dong in every employee’s face.

   “Corporations used to treat workers really well, providing solid benefits and giving back to our communities, but then we wised up and realized you losers won’t stop buying our products no matter how shitty we treat you,” said Woolrus. “You all claim you’ll fight back, but then you just start some lame internet petition that requires zero effort. I mean, do you feel that? That feeling of absolute despair and hopelessness you get each morning when you wake up, like you’ve been drowning in salty water but have cottonmouth at the same time? That’s the feeling of me and my fellow executives peeing in your mouth 24 hours per day. Does it taste good? We don’t do it because we like it. We do it because you let us and it’s funny. You only have yourselves to blame. The reason I’m telling you this is because I know you still won’t do anything, because you’re all a bunch of fucking losers.”

   Woolrus also took time to sympathize with the plight of workers by describing his own struggles and the great sacrifices he’s had to make in carrying out this decision.

   “I had to fly all the way over here - a 45 minute flight - and the airplane food was terrible,” said Woolrus. “It’s a complimentary first class flight, but that’s not the point. It’s the hassle of the thing. You pay $7 and it’s like a lunch put together by a four-year-old. A granola bar, a pack of Chex Mix, a bag of peanuts and a can of soda. I mean, I won’t get the runs or anything, but it’s still awfully dry. Are we astronauts? Must the entire meal be space food? Ugh. I digress. It’s been a rough morning, but now that I’ve taken away your health insurance, my day is only going to get better. I’m going to fly home, get paid to take the rest of the afternoon off and never think about any of you ever again.

   “Oh, and in case I forgot to mention it, go fuck yourselves!” said Woolrus, cackling like a villain in a terrible Adam Sandler movie that made $40 million in its opening weekend. “I won’t help any of you human turds unless you force me to.”