Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Flo the Greay

You are All Owed a Standing Ovation



Every last one of you.

Anyone who survives long enough to eventually die is owed it.

When we get to wherever we're going, there better be a standing ovation. All the dead from before, all the saints, Gods, Suns, Shamans, Eagle Spirits, and magicians better be on their fucking feet applauding each and every one of you just for making it through this shit.

Each of you deserves a trophy for putting up with your own chemicals, others and their chemicals, tsunamis, earthquakes, war, famine, dead voices in your head, school teachers, cops, robbers, cyclones, double-parked cars, disease, ugly one-night-stands, shitty Star Wars movies, shitty TV, shitty music, shitty toilet stalls, bad food, ex's, so on and so on.

Fuck heaven and hell. Whatever God you have should be thanking YOU for exploring this pit of shit and having to put up with it.

I don't remember choosing to be down here. How dare a preacher, pope, or politician tell me I'm going to burn for this, that or the other thing.

And those who have it really bad – they should be made Gods.

I have no idea how I've lived this long with all the bullshit. Coupled with an angry self-hatred this has made out to be a really great time. Thanks again.



Yep, I've been watching depressing documentaries and staying up late listening to music again.



I saw Dark Days last night and you really have to wonder how come life isn't a lot nicer when you know you don't have to set up rat traps, fend off crack heads, and brush your teeth in a bucket.

Life should feel grand.

Good God!

Get a job? I know I wouldn't work in a McDonald's, why would I expect them to.

I also saw American Pimp and if this isn't a study in self-flagellation, I don't know what is.

Here you have every woman who has low self esteem exponentially modified to the point where she answers to "bitch," gets beaten, gives away all her money, and let's her body and mind be raped on a daily basis.

Man is an extraordinary creature.

And the clown that is the pimp? How do these people take themselves seriously? It's almost like some kind of mind fuck; cuz when you look at these guys you can't help but laugh. And yet, they have a hold over humans tighter than most religions. And that's just the street pimps.

The "legit" ones are almost worse in their smug belief that they are somehow above the Willie Ds out there.



What else?

I have a feeling you'll be seeing part two of "Shitty Review" on Monday, as I'm having my mid-year on Friday.

You get the chance to grade yourself on how you feel you did and I just shot through the entire review giving myself "3's" (average) just to show my boss that her review is for shit.

In short/long term goals I wrote "To get another job."

The review process is a joke and the managers, VPs, SVPs, CEO, et al must know it. Or are they so smug that they really think they're making a difference by asking employees to honestly judge themselves and their bosses, even though telling the truth would land you in so much hot water they'd need pot holders to remove your fired ass from the building.

"What are your biggest strengths?"

Well, I guess one of my biggest strengths is answering vague questions about myself that could only be answered by God or whoever is watching me from the spy camera you've set up in the elevator, cafeteria, etc.

"Where do you see yourself in five years?"

Um, I'm sorry, you must have me confused with H.G. Wells.

What kinda question is that? Five years ago I would've answered "dead." And, yet, to my amazement, I'm answering this stupid fucking question again.

I have no idea how a guy like me even exists in the same universe as a job like this.

Fucking corporations – full of mental savages.

Which brings us back to the pimps. If you work for a corporation and think you're not being pimped like Jasmine the hotpants hooker, you're brain dead enough to...work in a corporation.

So, this Friday, my friends, I'll lay on the KY and spread em' so my boss can put on a strap on and rape me for an hour.



Pleace,

Matt

No comments: