Thursday, November 08, 2012

Sad dogs and big people

Or, perhaps, the other way around.

Sad people, for all those electoral reasons.  Hey, it would be awesome if we could all be happy, but that's called Utopia and even there you'd have the Oligarchy ruling over you telling you how to be happy, so what's the selling point there?  At least HERE you can vote your conscience, bitch about the outcome if it doesn't suit you, and can go out and purchase a case of Miller High Life tall boys without some demi-god in a bad hairdo and obseqious manner come sniveling up to your pen to tell you it's time to eat the manna and bed down like a happy little cloud, please forget about the beer.  Utopia, it's like that.

Look 'er up.

Eh - Perhaps, I get a little mouthy from time to time.  I blame the bland mundanity of my work surroundings, esp. when I am at work, for the RATM-istic ichor.  Cubicles, mine in particular, are frelling BORING, and even with my plush brain cell and E. coli toys things just aren't very very interesting and awesome. We need some RC sharks at work, or at the very least some almost-dangerous poison dart guns to aimlessly (in the most literal sense) fire off at one another to liven up the 2:30 slump time.  This would be much more like the workplace of the future I was promised in 1969, random dangerous interludes and all.  PLUS FLYING CARS!

Also, don't go wandering around in parts of YouTube you're not given permission to.  Word to the wise. Scary stuff in just a few tangential mouse clicks.  Yeeesh.

I hope you're all well.  I know I am.  I won't tell you HOW I know that.  Wonder away, y'all!

Tiff out.

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