Mariah Carey is one of the most famous women in the world. Millions of people own her records. She's just come back from an engagement entertaining the U.S. troops involved in Operation Kill Osama. But now that she's been dropped by her record label she's unemployed, just like me and lots of other regular Americans.

I can just imagine what it was like last week when her limo pulled up to her local unemployment office and she walked in, looking for work and a little something to tide her over.

Unemployment Clerk: Ms. Carey, what are your skills?

Mariah Carey: Well, I have a seven-octave vocal range.

Clerk: So you're a singer.

Mariah: An entertainer, please. I can act, too.

Clerk: I took my daughter to see Glitter. (pause) I think singer will suffice.

Mariah: (pouty) Be that way.

Clerk: When did you receive your last paycheck?

Mariah: You'll have to ask my accountant.

Clerk: (tapping a keyboard) Let's see what our records have ... well, it appears that you've earned more than twenty-one million dollars in the last two or three years.

Mariah: Is that more than Whitney?

Clerk: I have no idea.

Mariah: How about Britney?

Clerk: Couldn't say.

Mariah: Is it enough for me to qualify for unemployment?

Clerk: By the skin of your teeth.

Mariah: (rubbing her bicuspids curiously) So, like, how much do I get?

Clerk: Well, you qualify for the maximum amount allowed by law.

Mariah: What, one million? Two million?

Clerk: Try four hundred.

Mariah: Four hundred thousand? You think I can live on such a paltry sum? I've got bodyguards to pay and poodles to feed. Nothing less than a million will do.

Clerk: Four hundred dollars. Per week. And we take out fifteen percent off the top for Uncle Sam.

Mariah: I don't care who your uncle is, he doesn't get any of my money.

Clerk: The I.R.S., ma'am. Taxes. We can also withhold state taxes, if you like. That's up to you. You tell us how much you want withheld and we'll do it.

Mariah: Four hundred dollars? For a whole week?

Clerk: Ma'am, that's the best we can do. Do you know how many people are out of work these days?

Mariah: But we're talking about me. Mariah. The one and only. I deserve more than any little person. I'm actually important.

Clerk: We'll keep that in mind. Now, do you want your state taxes withheld or not?

Mariah: (with a glare) No.

Clerk: Fine. Now, we need to get you into some workshops in order to hone your job-seeking skills. Do you have a resume?

Mariah: I haven't had a resume since I got married.

Clerk: Pardon me?

Mariah: Well, you know, first you get a resume and then you marry the idiot. And then, after it turns out that he's just a scumbag music mogul who prefers to screw ugly women, you get an ex-husband.

Clerk: I see. Well, we've got a resume-building workshop Thursday morning at ten. Will that be good for you?

Mariah: I'm not sure I'm ready to make that sort of commitment yet.

Clerk: Well, if you don't go to the workshop, you won't get any checks.

Mariah: (thinking it over) Where will this mixer be?

Clerk: (pointing) In that conference room over there.

Mariah: (looking around the room) I'm sorry, there's just no one here'd even start to consider. But, like you said, if I want the money, I have to come.

Clerk: That's right.

Mariah: Okay. But I'm a good girl. No fooling around until I get a ring.

Clerk: Whatever you say. Now, I need to get you entered into our database. What sort of work are you looking for?

Mariah: I suppose I could record another album.

Clerk: We don't often have openings for that sort of thing come across our desk. Do you have any skills that might be useful in the real world? You know, can you type?

Mariah: (with a disgusted look) No.

Clerk: Use a computer?

Mariah: Get real.

Clerk: Run a multi-million dollar corporation?

Mariah: Oooh, that sounds fun.

Clerk: Too bad, I was just kidding.

Mariah: You're mean.

Clerk: Never said I wasn't. Ms. Carey, we need to know when to start your checks. Did you receive any severance when you lost your job?

Mariah: Why would I cut off my hair? Guys love my hair.

Clerk: I mean, did your former employer pay you anything when it let you go?

Mariah: Why didn't you just ask that? Of course, they did.

Clerk: How much?

Mariah: Twenty-eight million dollars. Cheap bastards.

Clerk: Well, Ms. Carey, based on your earlier records, I figure that should tide you over for at least a year or two. So I can't set you up for unemployment checks right now.

Mariah: I need the money! I've got to have the money!

Clerk: Twenty-eight million is nothing to sneeze at, Ms. Carey.

Mariah: But my accountant said I was living hand-to-foot! I'm practically broke! That twenty-five million's only gonna last a few weeks.

Clerk: Who's your accountant, Arthur Andersen? Come on, even a spendthrift with an entourage the size of Wrigley Field could stretch twenty-eight mil out over a few months.

Mariah: (sobbing) I can't take this any more! I just don't know what I'm gonna do.

Clerk: (patting her shoulder in a very chaste manner) It's gonna be alright. Everything will work out just fine. I'm sure you'll find suitable employment real soon.

Jon Worley figures that Mariah Carey's recent "breakdown" was more intellectual than physical.