Globalization, Real World


Question: Hey Laurie, you sage woman you—what in your opinion, is the best definition of globalization?


Answer: Why, Princess Diana’s death, silly!


Question: How come, Laurie? Why, huh????


Answer: Easy, mon ami! OK, here ya go: Diana was a very British woman…..and a princess no less. Her boyfriend was a rich, Egyptian playboy. They crashed in a French tunnel while riding in a German car powered by a Dutch engine.


It was driven by a Belgian who was supposedly drunk and had spent an evening slamming back (among other things) 12-year old Scotch.


Their car was being closely followed by mostly Italian Paparazzi on Japanese motorcycles. Once she arrived at the hospital, the Princess was treated by many doctors—one was American trained who used numerous medicines which of course, had their origins in the flora and fauna of the Brazilian rain forest.


This post has been prepped and edited by me, a Texan of Polish descent. I used a computer which utilizes Taiwanese micro chips and processors and more than likely, the monitor is Korean-made.



Furthermore, my PC was probably assembled by Bangladeshi workers at a plant in Singapore, then transported by Indian lorry-drivers, who were then no doubt hijacked by Indonesians. They in turn, struck a deal with Sicilian Mafiosos who transported the cyber contraband to Senegal where it was handled and unloaded by Latvian dockworkers who did so under the supervision of an Armenian boss who sang Portuguese whaling songs as he checked inventory.

It–my computer–eventually made it to the U.S, probably via a Malaysian trawler, then was unloaded at a harbor somewhere in Northern California by Russian stevedores. The computers were then driven en mass to Houston by a Midwestern Teamster named Sven who’s wife is a Yap Islander named Matunga.

The computers were then offloaded by undocumented Mexican workers at my friendly neighborhood “Computer Shack” which is owned by a Croatian conglomerate. This particular location is managed by a guy who was born in Romania.

He owns two African Gray parrots, one Burmese python and he loves Greek food.  So much so that he regularly dines at a little dive called “Takis Take Out” where all the food is made and served by Bolivian refugees.

Lastly, as I typed this, I was drinking a Canadian beer while wearing a “Save the Galapagos Turtles” T-shirt, sewn by an 11 year old seamstress of indigenous extraction who toiled in a Panamanian sweat shop for a few weeks back in 2004.



And THAT is the true definition of GLOBALIZATION!!!




  1. And here I thought I was international when I found out my shoes were composed of parts made in three separate countries…

  2. You should add “and not to mention, you my friend, are reading this post via a complex series of inter-networked cables”

    – Tristan from London, Canada.

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