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Heavy. Leaden. Opressive. A mood H. P. Lovecraft would love. ...that described the atmosphere this morning. Settled in overnight, elbowing its way into dreams first, then wakefulness. The pendulum arcs backward. Or, as Vivian from The Young Ones exhorted... "BORED-BORED-BORED, I'm so Very BORED!" ...whilst smashing the kitchenette, the TV, Rick's record player and various walls. I know, get some Prozac. Well, fuck that. One of the reasons I bailed from a psychology major was the rabid emphasis on psychopharmacology. Don't wanna fix it? Drug it. "Oh, and what therapy method do you prefer?" I prefer self-medication... rather than further enrichening the Drug Companies. They'd rather steal old folks' money, anyway. And give it to their three-piece-suited ho's in DC, just down the road. They call prostitution the oldest job in the world. Political favor has to be the second. Right across the road from work is the MCI/WorldCom "campus." It's one huge muthafucka, forever changing the landscape and the roads in all directions. A friend once applied there. Sweating the piss test and interview... and was entertained by the football games in the halls, employees and management alike padding around in stocking feet. Sound like a dream job? For a while. Until, say... this week. 3.8 BILLION dollars shuffled around to balance the books. More than the gross national product of most Countries. And, you just KNOW, the person responsible will be shown the door with more money than if he's stayed 'til retirement, drawing his salary. Add to this, Xerox, etc., etc. Who needs Osama bin Laden when we have the quality of corporate executives that we hand the keys to? No wonder the rest of the world hates us. Just makes me want to get fucked up and break something. Grrrrrrrrrrrr. Yes, Haritari... I know the drill. |
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