This may horrify many who have never had a phone long enough to notice the battery getting slower or past the fall that cracks the screen. The phone I have now was released 18 months ago and both of those things have happened to it, but the processor is good and at this point I'm pretty attached to it. I don't know who owned it before, but they took excellent care of it -- either that or they did not use it at all, which by serial divorcee standards is entirely possible. I will have it for a couple more years at least, unless my fortunes change dramatically or it spontaneously explodes for no apparent reason.

A lot has been said about the out-of-control Western consumerism that turns phones into trendy, disposable luxury items. I say splurge your fickle little hearts out, America. You don't want that practically brand-new, barely used, overpriced thing? Send it halfway across the globe so those of us who don't have a disposable $900 for a phone that should be transporting people to Hogwarts for that kind of scratch. Afraid of a little spontaneous phone combustion? You and your first-world problems disgust me. But I'm grateful you have them.

The key word here is "American." When KFC, Burger King, Subway, and the like announced that they would be opening restaurants here, it made the papers. Almost overnight, what was a greasy second meal option for college kids became a middle-class status symbol. Getting the large bucket of drumsticks is prestigious. Parents would drive by a KFC after picking up their kids from school and order the family-sized portions. This was revolutionary. This was 1950s American housewives getting cake mix instead of doing it themselves. People would post photos of the opened boxes and buckets of their fried chicken to social media as a way of showing off in the same way that we post our out-of-focus tropical vacation photos.

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#Blessed

The unbelievable change in perception, ridiculous as it may seem, means that I carry a lot less shame about buying instead of cooking food. You full-blooded, artery-clogged Americans propelled the fast food industry to the heights of low-class, but it still seems posh by everyone else's standards. Say whatever you want about globalization, but God bless Colonel Sanders.

Speaking of food ...

Tons of fruits and veggies that were the wrong size, shape, color, or sweetness, or had blemishes, bruises, sunburns, or bugs, make up that big pile that we gladly devour. The pile that, apparently, would make everyone else on Earth vomit violently. The rejected food comes back to the local market at much cheaper prices, where I can get off-color but still delicious strawberries once a week and baby corn for a stir-fry. Your unjustifiable aesthetic standards ensure that I have decent meals. The produce will still be export-grade food, which means that there will likely be lower chemical content in it from pesticides and such. A lot more care will have been taken by the farmer, so it'll taste good. And there will be all kinds of exotic s**t white people like to eat, like peaches or arugula, which while normal for you is exotic for us.

But wow does terrorism lower my travel expenses.

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"Thanks, terrorism!"

Look, I know how bad that sounds. But when terrorist attacks slow tourism, hoteliers and airlines bring rates way down due to the crisis, in hopes of attracting a bargain hunter who can risk a little shrapnel. I am happy to oblige. See, despite employing thousands and making up a sizable chunk of the economy, vacations are not meant for people like me, who pull their pockets inside-out when we're asked to pay for those glorious aforementioned peaches. The normally unforgiving rates make it impossible for me to see the wonders of my own country. So while the threat of attack is just short of inevitable and advisories are entirely justified, seeing as the danger of actual death is very real, I will pretty much only budget for a holiday when the threat level is deemed high.

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I'm basically jumping in the water after someone yells "Shark!"

When Americans scamper away, choosing to stay home or go someplace else, they leave a gaping hole that the hoteliers must reluctantly fill with me. The horrific acts of murderers have unintentionally given me amazing experiences I could never have had otherwise. And I only have to worry about dying most of the time.

Still, everyone I know who does this is in the middle of completing their degree, and genuine care is taken in the writing of that paper. Really, as ethically questionable uses for the internet in Africa go, this is degrees of magnitude better than Nigerian prince email scams. It is honest work paid for by American students who pay the approximate black market value of a kidney for college textbooks that they don't read, for classes they don't attend, to complete assignments that unemployed strangers do for them. Is it difficult to write papers for students who are intentionally missing out on receiving a a full, world-class college education that I would kill to experience myself? No, not at all. And that says a lot about them, none of which is good.

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We probably wrote a paper turned in by one of your future presidents. So yay, globalism!

A writer who averages eight papers a week earns a living wage, which is more than most first jobs are willing to pay. Five bucks is not a fortune anywhere, but in my current situation, it pays for a meal and half a pound of weed. So keep asking us to do your homework for you. My pipe's looking a little empty.

Be sure to check out our new Cracked Podcast miniseries, "Looking The Part," in which Soren Bowie and Daniel O'Brien are dissecting pop-culture's greatest beards, scars and tattoos. Listen to part one HERE and catch parts two and three in the Cracked Podcast feed on Apple Podcasts or wherever you get your podcasts.

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