America, Fuck Yeah. Comin' again to save the motherfuckin' day, yeah. America, fuck yeah..

6:37 pm, October 21, 2004

So, what are we saying the cost is for University-type education these days? Are we getting into the 10's of thousands? That's tuition, board, food, books, spending money, hepatitis tests, flu shots ... that's a lot of money.

Now, I went to a University-type place for four years, got my degree-type document.

And, for that hard ... scratch that;

and for that work ... scratch that too;

for those four years of wasted time and money, I have become Fred Flintstone.

As we all know, Mr. Flintstone, for a living, broke rocks all day while sitting on top of a dinosaur. I don't necessarily break rocks, but I think I could do my job on top of a dinosaur. However, I DO break boxes all day, among other stone-age type activities.

Now, I'm pretty sure we're all familiar with the work-place environment. As it stands, I believe there should be a study involved on the dynamic of the workers. Sort of a Jane Goodall type exposť on how the workers interact. During a break, in which I hid out in the check-storage room for fifteen minutes instead of suffering another banal exchange with these cretins (as it stands, I've been taking my morning breaks in the bathroom on the shitter, as I've noticed I've become extremely regular since starting this job. If you'd like to know, I now poop every morning at 9:00am). These are my notes:

All these yentas want to do is sit on their asses like their fore-housewives, watching game shows and gabbing about their idiot home lives. Kids and husbands and that damn stove on the fritz again. But, since they don't live in the times of yore, the great golden age of the 1950s where asses spread faster than Richard Simmons' at the photoshoot for YMCA's weightlifter of the year, they have to settle for the Game Show Network (no whammy's no whammy's NO WHAMMY'S!) at their 30-minute lunch and 15 minute afternoon breaks in the kitchenette, thrusting me to the check-storage room for peace, silence, and sanity.

See, I'm still of the mindset of the children to these freaks. So, when they ask me if I'm married or how I survived a year in Washington State with no employment, I have to remember I'm surrounded by "adults" and, for the life of me, I now look the part.

These people are of the mindset of the traditional adult. A job in your twenties. Settle down and get married by your 30s, 'cause if you don't, you look pretty sad. Get your family on and forget any dreams you ever fancied about being rich and famous, because your only goal now is to make sure those kids of yours turn out with lives better than yours.

This is pretty bleak, but I see it every day. Seriously, nobody growing up envisioned themselves balancing boxes of checks for a living. And, you know, some people are content with the whole family thing, but I kinda think it's pathetic. You have these kids and you do everything you can to ensure they get a good education and grow up to be somebody important. You tell them to dream and maybe, just maybe, they can grow up to be president.

Why don't people ever tell their kids, "Hey, look. I work at a factory. I make next to nothing and I bust my ass every day. My back aches, my bosses treat me like shit, and I dread waking up in the morning. Well, guess what, odds are you'll be suffering my same exact fate one day."

And then, their kids, with that twinkle of hope thrust thoroughly from their eyes, look up at their parents and say, "But, I'm five years old. You can't know that."

Why do we even have to grow up at all? I mean, obviously I get the physiological aspect of "growing up." I'm just saying, it's one thing to be responsible and go out on your own to live your life, but why do we have to succumb to living by the "Adult Codes of Conduct"? Why can't we still watch cartoons into our 80s? Why can't we eat ice cream as a meal or stay up until 2am when we know we've gotta be at work at 7?

Why can't we hope for something more than a couple breaks during work and a weekend off to sit at home in front of our televisions, thoroughly defeated by what life has handed us, settling for meager scraps of contentment three weeks a year during the family vacation to the Grand Canyon?

Oh, what am I saying? Who the FUCK goes to the Grand Canyon anymore?

I'll tell you who, fucking losers and their degenerate kids who know beyond a shadow of a doubt that THIS is as good as life gets.

Current Mood: Enjoying the next five hours before I have to go to sleep and get ready for work
Current Music: Team America - America, Fuck Yeah (Bummer Remix)