You may recognize the title of this post as being the exact same title of a song that the Rackatees released on their split 7" with the Shidiots of Omaha, NE, but I doubt it. If I need to explain the title, then there's really no hope for the human race after all (probably isn't anyway).
I decided upon this title as an attempt to somehow direct my flow of consciousness for this post, because that's about all that I can hope to accomplish as far as writing goes--to grab hold of the cartoon fire-hose that is my squirming brain and just hope for the best as it sprays its contents wherever it may. On with the show.
I mentioned earlier that I got a new boss at work, as if I asked for one. I'm simply thankful that I work the nightshift and won't have to worry about crossing paths with this person past 5 o'clock. That's 2 hours of faking it, and them I'm more or less free to work and fuck off at my own leisurely pace.
The problem with this person--who shall obviously remain anonymous, I'm not a total idiot who'd risk getting fired over a stupid blog post--is that they still believe in all of the shit that got them through high school and college. The whole "are you a winner, or are you a loser" speech illustrates this pretty well, I'd say. Come on dude. Jesus. Are we adults here, or are we teenagers? Is this a fuckin' job, or is this football practice? Because I don't know about any of you, but when I'm at work, I'm doing--at maximum--what I'm paid to do. I am not here to "succeed", just here to make enough money to pay the bills I've got to pay and to have enough left over to drink with. People like this scare me, not because they intimidate me, but because they seem so fucking fake that I'm honestly in disbelief that these sorts of people run shit. It's like Vonnegut said, and I'll paraphrase: true terror is when you wake up one day and realize that your graduating class is now running the world. This person is what the captain of my high school basketball team would be like if he hadn't have knocked up his girlfriend his senior year then gotten locked up for writing fake checks, gotten out, and found himself back in rehab for a pill addiction. At least that guy is (was?) real.
Rant finished. Thanks for reading.
P.S.- It looks like I will most certainly be traveling to St. Louis, MO to hang with a bunch of my punk rock music buddies. Should be a rad time. I will be sure to report in, probably this coming Tuesday, on all of the shenanigans. And there will be pictures! I'll be posting this tasty dish here on the Letters Home page of this blog for your enjoyment.
It is 11:30, friends. I need to clock out and get drunk ('cause I'm a loser apparently, not a winner). Ciao!
Follow me on twitter: @Paddy_Rhino,
on instagram: @paddy_von_westerhausen,
or on facebook (just search my name, k?)
I decided upon this title as an attempt to somehow direct my flow of consciousness for this post, because that's about all that I can hope to accomplish as far as writing goes--to grab hold of the cartoon fire-hose that is my squirming brain and just hope for the best as it sprays its contents wherever it may. On with the show.
I mentioned earlier that I got a new boss at work, as if I asked for one. I'm simply thankful that I work the nightshift and won't have to worry about crossing paths with this person past 5 o'clock. That's 2 hours of faking it, and them I'm more or less free to work and fuck off at my own leisurely pace.
The problem with this person--who shall obviously remain anonymous, I'm not a total idiot who'd risk getting fired over a stupid blog post--is that they still believe in all of the shit that got them through high school and college. The whole "are you a winner, or are you a loser" speech illustrates this pretty well, I'd say. Come on dude. Jesus. Are we adults here, or are we teenagers? Is this a fuckin' job, or is this football practice? Because I don't know about any of you, but when I'm at work, I'm doing--at maximum--what I'm paid to do. I am not here to "succeed", just here to make enough money to pay the bills I've got to pay and to have enough left over to drink with. People like this scare me, not because they intimidate me, but because they seem so fucking fake that I'm honestly in disbelief that these sorts of people run shit. It's like Vonnegut said, and I'll paraphrase: true terror is when you wake up one day and realize that your graduating class is now running the world. This person is what the captain of my high school basketball team would be like if he hadn't have knocked up his girlfriend his senior year then gotten locked up for writing fake checks, gotten out, and found himself back in rehab for a pill addiction. At least that guy is (was?) real.
Rant finished. Thanks for reading.
P.S.- It looks like I will most certainly be traveling to St. Louis, MO to hang with a bunch of my punk rock music buddies. Should be a rad time. I will be sure to report in, probably this coming Tuesday, on all of the shenanigans. And there will be pictures! I'll be posting this tasty dish here on the Letters Home page of this blog for your enjoyment.
It is 11:30, friends. I need to clock out and get drunk ('cause I'm a loser apparently, not a winner). Ciao!
Follow me on twitter: @Paddy_Rhino,
on instagram: @paddy_von_westerhausen,
or on facebook (just search my name, k?)
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