Having a Job
On 11/08/01 Jeevan wrote:
I'd prefer if we didn't meet Sunday. I propose we meet two Sundays after that. or maybe in December.
Is that Ok with everyone?
can everyone just shoot themselves in the face?
So my purposes are always at cross-angles. It seems one minute I've got to do this thing, but then the next I've got to do that thing. Why have I got to do anything? It's like it's my JOB to do things.
I mean, does it strike anyone as just a little bit strange that "purposes" and "porpoises" rhyme almost EXACTLY?
Do porpoises have to do anything? It's like it's their JOB to do nothing.
If I had my druthers, I'd gather up all the porpoises in a huge Porpoise Conference in the Omaha Convention Center and I'd give them all slightly ill-fitting America hardhats like Dick Cheney's and say "Goddamn you fucking creatures, why don't you just get to WORK?" Then I'd hand out blueprints, stencils and post-it notepads to all of them and expect something, anything, to get done.
And you know what I think would happen? I bet they would all just rather DIE than do anything. Just flop around and squeak and knock over the folding chairs I arranged for them and just DIE. Like it's their JOB to DIE.
Goddammit. Does anyone understand me besides John?
On 11/08/01 Jeevan wrote:
I'd prefer if we didn't meet Sunday. I propose we meet two Sundays after that. or maybe in December.
Is that Ok with everyone?can everyone just shoot themselves in the face?
So my purposes are always at cross-angles. It seems one minute I've got to do this thing, but then the next I've got to do that thing. Why have I got to do anything? It's like it's my JOB to do things.
I mean, does it strike anyone as just a little bit strange that "purposes" and "porpoises" rhyme almost EXACTLY?
Do porpoises have to do anything? It's like it's their JOB to do nothing.
If I had my druthers, I'd gather up all the porpoises in a huge Porpoise Conference in the Omaha Convention Center and I'd give them all slightly ill-fitting America hardhats like Dick Cheney's and say "Goddamn you fucking creatures, why don't you just get to WORK?" Then I'd hand out blueprints, stencils and post-it notepads to all of them and expect something, anything, to get done.
And you know what I think would happen? I bet they would all just rather DIE than do anything. Just flop around and squeak and knock over the folding chairs I arranged for them and just DIE. Like it's their JOB to DIE.
Goddammit. Does anyone understand me besides John?