Kid be frusterated, y’all!


Aww, man, I tell ya it ain’t but tuff out there for a kid like me. Seriously, whether it’s granpa belly-bitchin’ ’bout them cornhogs he calls feet or that bacon-faced teach’s twisted ideas on the sex, I gotta tell ya, it’s hard for a guy like me. I mean, lookit, I get it awright and all that the world ain’t no smaller and less comlicated than a mechaniacal goose is. I seen one of them up at the circus before and I couln’t start to tell you what all them gears and greases and electric honkers was for. And that ain’t even close to the whole world and all at all. But still, c’mon, just for one second couln’t these wrinkled gut-buckets who says they’s in charge of things just for one second lookit from my ‘spective for even one second? Yeah, sure, priorities or whatever the frick they’re called. I get that. Things are important. Uh huh. I know ’cause I got them importants too y’know. Like strokin’ Mary Peters. That’s what I’m thinking ’bout most of the time. And Thurby Newter’s go-cart. Them rides don’t wrangle themelfs and that takes up a lotta my brainspace, right? I could give a sticky nugget ’bout the price of frickin’ lotion. If I could I’d rub them on, y’know, make them their own frickin’ lotion. How’d they like that? I ain’t own no stocks and I don’t care bought the politics and the behaviours and the stuff like that. I pick my nose ’cause it needs to be picked is all. So get off my back. Whatdya expect me to quit the kid business and get a job sipping tea and spanking babies? Get real, mango, I wouldn’t wanna if I even knew how. All I’m about is getting under Mary Peters’s pink unders and go carting and nose turds and putting crud on dead gunk. Is all. Whatdya think? I was the high king of the special guys or something. Geesh. Get real.


All Hail the Hoi Polloi!


Most gentle dirtbags, unite thee with those myriad other pieces of shit that grease the gutters of this fair world. Stinking up the place with their foul and noxious windy thoughts, their dumb ideas and sweet, sweet ignorance.
Take the soiled masses in your filthy arms and hold them tightly to you, warming their stupid brows with sullied kisses and your bad breath.
They are you, sleazewad, and you are they.
One and all.
Sick and disgusting and as stupid as a stripped screw.
Open the pigpen you call a heart and let in the dung-like love of all the other skidwipes and turdchews that are stinking up the place.
Bathe and be bathed in the undivided and unanimous adulation of the countless scores of downtrodden chunks of living manure that defile the universe and make it that much tougher to simply get around.
Rejoice, oh tender greaseball, and be merry and all that corny jazz, coadunating with all the other dipsticks like a toxic swamp full of love and filth and blighted vermin.
Hands held high, hearts joined, buttholes puckered, raise high the roof beam of the universe and shoot the sloppy moon and bask in the eternal glow of stupid stinkery that we all are.

Watercooler 2.0

E.F. Hutton office in Denver, Colorado

Attn. employees,

Due to recent legislation that has been enacted by both state and federal governments we have found the need to clarify acceptable inter-office conversations based around this beverage station. Please do not take this as any sort of ban on conversing with your fellow employees around said beverage station, in fact, a major principle of a piece of said legislation expressly forbids employers from prohibiting inter-office conversations around beverage stations of any kind, be it water, coffee, tea, juice, smoothie, lassi, soda (diet, high-fructose, Dr. Pepper), milk, lactose-free milk, non-dairy lactose infused milk, non-milk milk (almond, soy, pine), or liquid whatever.

It is now company policy that any and all conversations around this beverage station must recognize the following guidelines:

-Regarding any and all of employee’s political views and their opinions there of, in no way will the pure and proper ideals of ownership and management impede on those held by the painfully mistaken members of our team, and neither shall any employee. This includes, and is not limited to, right-wing conservatives (try it, you’ll like it, there are pamphlets in the staff room), liberal leftists (Santa is dead. Believe that.), centrists (get off the fucking fence), socialists (you want me to pay for whose what?), communists (so ultra-over), kleptocrats (there’s something there but it’s all “who you know”, y’know?), anarchists (like the IT department, it’s lonely, complains a lot, and smells like b.o.), proponents of true democracy (BWAHAHAHAHA! –wiping away tears- Seriously though, your points are valid), and the don’t know-don’t care-don’t vote ideologues (we’re looking at you, Janitorial staff). It’s all good.

-Regarding any and all employee’s political views, whether they be (most correctly) right-wing conservative, gossip-mongering centrists (we hear you secretarial pool), anarchy (which like it’s IT dept. proponents is lonely, complains a lot, and smells like b.o.), or the don’t-know don’t-care don’t-vote ideologues of the Janitorial staff, it’s all good.

-Regarding sports. All hail sports. Unless you hate sports. Then, go heil yourself.

-Concerning co-workers who like to spout off about their sexual conquests. While the newly minted personage bestowed upon the corporate entity that is this company believes that certain sexual proclivities are utterly indecent and immoral, it is no way our business, or yours, to restrict Lance in the data-processing department from extolling you with how much fucking pole he smoked at Buster’s Thug and Tug last night. Nor is it in anyway acceptable for us to limit the amount of Melissa in PR’s non-stop dry as all hell descriptions of how painfully unsatisfying her husbands penis is.

-This also goes for conversations concerning employee’s automobiles. All forms of transit are valid and to be included. Especially someone’s robust enthusiasm for continuously letting you know how awesome theirs is and how much awesomer theirs is going to be with the new whatever the hell kind of thing they’re going to attach to it mechano-babble-blah-blah-blah, day-in and day-out. Yes Hector, we know you have a cool car. Is that also why you have five kids with three different women at age twenty-six? It’s not for us to judge or even question. But still–

-When Janelle or Peter or You-know-who wants to talk ceaselessly about how many hot wings they put back at The Sports Pump on the weekend, you must let them, but also you are well within your rights to let them know they make you sick to your fucking stomachs. Then politely let them roll back to their special desks near the elevator, which of course was also part of new special legislation, which made fat-as-shit a universal job qualification in all places of employment.

-When a co-worker just has to rave about the episode of television he/she/gender-neutral saw last night, and is just BLOWN AWAY that you didn’t see it and then you’re all like if she says spoiler alert one more time I swear on my gram-mam’s freakin’ grave I’m-a gonna stab her freakin’ eyes in wit’ a pen, please understand that you have just got to roll with that, bro. (Important note, this company is legally obligated to ensuring that this is a certifiably safe working environment and that any and all acts of violence will not be tolerated and may result in suspension and/or some kind of mild reprimand).

-If Soo-Yin from Acquisitions and Mergers wants to tell you how talented and smart her two-year old twins are she is fully encouraged to. Over and over and over again. But always keep in mind the rumor that they may actually both have Down’s Syndrome and/or Spina Bifida, which is totally fine by the way, and that in no way makes them any lesser a part of society, but that’s also why she looks so tired all the time. And why the husband’s no longer in the picture. Feel free to discuss.

-Concerning religion, there is of course only one true God and it is through him and his only begotten son, Jesus, that you will find the way. We’re pretty firm on this one. Still, we respect your right to talk out of your ass.

We hope this clarifies things.
Thank you for your understanding on this issue,
The Management.

I cannot spell GENIUS without US

She stepped to the podium.

“Hello. Great to be here. Greater to see you all here. Greatest that we’re all here. Isn’t it? I sure think it is. You go ahead and think it, too, because that’s alright with me. And it should be alright with you. And if it isn’t that’s alright, too. It’s been such an honour and a privilege and a hell of lot of work–the good work, mind you–to get here to this place where I am here with you all and you’re all here with me and we’re all here together and it’s great and all and I mean that sincerely–about how great it is and the honour and the privilege and the HELLA HARDA WORKA–ha , sorry, that’s for y’all in da back, yo! No, seriously it is, for everyone in the back, and the front, too, and the middle and over on the sides there, you folks can feel it as well, because we are all here and it is great. Because together me and you and I and us and all, well, what are we if we are not great? Well, I’ll tell you. We’re just lumps on a log in some woods that are scheduled for clear-cutting. We’re just future pulp to be mushed into paper that’ll be printed with lies and then balled up and thrown in the trash and buried in a landfill for eons to come. So you tell me? Is that who you want any of us all to be? No way, Lasagn-yay. You can take that cannelloni and stuff it with an eggroll and roll it in a tortilla and batter it up and fry it in the oil of I DON’T THINK SO. Get me? Damn straight. WE ARE US! Understand? T to the O to the GETH to the ERRRRRRRRRRRR! Tiger wolf scorpion brain freedom cow cobra dolphin shark barbecue picnic! Am I right? I AM! And so are you. Because we all are. All right. Alright. Right. Right right right. Say it with me. Say it to yourself. Say it together. But just keep saying it, okay? And never, ever take your foot off the prize. Great. Thanks. Have a gooder.”