I made a donation recently to some charity that feeds children who bleed from their eyes or something, and now they’re all after me.

My bleeding heart has been red flagged in the blood sucking community of need.

Now that I’m running my own non-profit organization, I can understand a tad bit more, but I’m still a little overwhelmed by how many calls I get from charities these days.

The phone rings off the heezy, and there is usually a cute little girl on the other end ready to explain how if I don’t donate ten bucks everyone will die. It has become vital to my bank account that I avoid these calls completely. My husband keeps saying, “just answer it so they can take you off the list,” because he clearly doesn’t understand there is no such thing as “just answering” a call like that for me. It’s automatically a situation. I reluctantly say hello and then as if I black out, I hear myself saying I could probably send some money. WHAT?! What money? How did this happen?

It’s apparently not bad enough that we are inundated with depressing images of starving, crying children raising their 18 brothers and sisters in a box. Alyssa Milano cannot stress enough that if I wasn’t such a selfish cow I could be saving millions of babies by rubbing two quarters together, and that Sarah McLachlan song, UGH, with all those cute puppies that some asshole neglected or abused. These are the images that are aired between episodes of Sponge Bob Square Pants. And it doesn’t end there. No no… how could it? There’s no shortage of need these days, and there’s always another call with another sad, horrible story. They need my help!

Seriously, how do we sleep at night?

Donating to charity is a terrible idea.

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