Dawn of the millennium, 1999: my nervous breakdown manifests itself as clinical anger. I smear on war paint and get on the A train. Beware the person who opens a newspaper too wide into my space, who sits next to me and bangs me with their elbow while searching for gum, who rests a bag on a seat while the train is crowded…
Flowing with the stream I’m a fucking human lemming on 42nd Street. GOD FORBID I walk west while everyone walks east — these gray-suited motherfuckers would knock me down!
I get to the corporate hell-hole without a bruise, without running into co-workers on the way demanding exhausting talk. I don’t like a lot of the people here. Most are aggressive, game-playing, conniving, shit-eating grinners – back-stabbing, pus-filled goons. They keep the system going in circles with great numbers of casualties all over the world. Consciousness doesn’t negate my complicity, as I purchase the shoes made in Chinese factories, consume the items that require the going elsewhere and sucking out resources and labor for this never-ending demand of we who seek great distraction for the cost of a gaping hole filled with Zoloft. Ahhhh, but what soothes a mind heavy with routine and knowledge? A call from Martin Lemmon’s secretary Gabby on the 57th floor – “Sandee, let everyone know there’s cake left over from the meeting in conference room B.”
Corporate leftovers are always a welcome distraction, especially if cake is involved. Sometimes it’s the only thing that gets you through the day.
Sound like any graduate school across the world. Leftovers is the only thing that’ll get you through the day. Ask Mike Slackenerny
That’s a funny strip — it’s universal — free food makes the world go round!
Indeed! We are in agreement!
You know Madame Weebles — that would have been a nice title for this post, “Corporate Leftovers!”
You’re a brilliant writer Sandee. You create a steady stream of images in my brain. I love it.
Anette — you made my day! I thank you so much!
Reblogged this on 1800ukillme and commented:
I wrote this a while back. This is probably as political as I’ll ever get on this blog. I look at this now and say, “Oh my, so much anger.” But really, who the fuck eats frosted cake in a business meeting?! How does SCB come up with this stuff? A couple of you have seen this before, so please, feel free to skip. Here it is: Corporate Sheet Cake!
The only thing I’m worried about after reading this post is how Le Clown shined by his absence, when your nephew was indeed, already, a Sword-Chinned Bitch fan. Stupid Le Clown.
Don’t ever call yourself stupid in my presence again! You are a flawless relative — nothing less!
Ohhhh, I thought you said Corporate Shit Cake. Sheet cake is much tastier! 🙂
Oh Margarita! Maybe this’ll be the title of my next post! Thanks!