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!
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…
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