There's No Business Like No Business

We, the undersigned slave classes, demand an end to all employment.  It's demeaning, debilitating, and damned boring, and it goes on five days a week.  We didn't grow up to report to offices and factories and building sites at some ungodly hour of the morning--we grew up to get laid and drunk and fucked up on pot at some ungodly hour of the morning--after which we could go to bed, sleep til noon, and then start the whole process all over again.

Our job is boring, which is (we admit) our fault for not learning some interesting trade like catching catfish with our bare hands (we could have gotten a tv show out of it!) or becoming a professional mountain climber or monster truck driver.  But no--we settled for becoming a faceless bureaucrat.

But still.  This whole "work or you don't get paid" thing has gone too far.  We sit in this office, and we vegetate.  And for what? A lump of dough that takes us through the week.  It's a vicious circle.  What did the French Situationists say? "Beneath the paving stones, the beach!"  We don't want to sit in a chair in a cubicle editing torture confessions for misuse of the colon--we want to live! And this office life is the opposite of living.  It's a death in life.  If it weren't for coffee and cigarettes and this blog, we'd go mad! 

What America's--make that the world's--workers need to do is go on strike. Permanently.  No, that won't work.  Nothing will work.  It's truly a fucked situation.  Futility rules all.  They've got us where they want us, and nothing short of Armageddon is going to free us from our unholy bondage.

Comments

[Martijn]

Instant classic, this post! Love it thrice. Somehow, I always pictured you as someone who didn't do any actual work -- slipped through the sytem as it were. Nobody knows your still on the payroll. But that can be just as boring, if not more, than doing work. Today I was checking texts for articles of feminine hygiene. It wasn't as much fun as it sounds. Cigarettes, whiskey and wild wild women! And this blog...

Kramer went on strike! You know, from the donut shop. Founded Kramerica Industries. He did allright. I'm a dreamer.

[bannedfrommikes]

My boss came to me this week with a plan for getting my productivity numbers up from 20% to the company standard of 50%. His plan?
"Fudge your time" he says.
I'll probably earn a bonus.
How do I get out of this chicken shit operation? Why would i want to, except one could die from boredom here were it not for UF Mike.

[UF MIKE]

Thank you gents. I got the same "fudge your numbers" speech a while back. I made the mistake of filling in a time sheet that reflected exactly how much idle time I had on my hands. It turned heads across the organization. Martijn, that Seinfeld episode is a classic. He comes back for a day--after eight years of being on strike--and promptly quits.

[Dave]

If it weren't for coffee and cigarettes and this blog, I would go mad!

[sodajerk]

nobody ,on their deathbed,ever wishes they had spent more time at the office.

[Karoline]

I wonder if in goddess cultures there ever was an equivalent to the job of get up at noon, get laid, get drunk, smoke pot and do the same the next day. but they propably made you hull small boulders to build their temples then discard you when your mating abilites waned and you went from "a thumb" to "a pinky" as what i have learned happens from watching the show "the doctors" or what is it Dr OZ?

[Martijn]

"They've got us where they want us, and nothing short of Armageddon is going to free us from our unholy bondage."

In the light of yesterday's Massive Earthquake, I have to say that perhaps you were right the other day, when you said one should ask God only for negative things.