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| America respects Labor. ("Whipping slaves, Missouri, 1856." No indication if this is Ferguson.) |
You wanna do something for people who work, kill the fucking bosses. It's not as if they "work" at anything but oppressing you & the other marks, stealing what little added value you create & on & on. And not just the abstraction of "the" bosses. This is not an academic exercise, it's fucking class war, so KILL YOUR FUCKING BOSS! And if you don't, then knock off all the "Waaah waaaah whassa matter w/ labor yada blah" typing. Get your fingers on a trigger, not a keyboard.
In a world where violent pigs claiming to be human control everything, especially work & the suckers who work, voting & whining is useless. ACTION NOW!!
Enjoy your fucking barbacoa; then get the fuck back to work tomorrow w/ your hangover. And no, there are no raises in sight for you.
*How to do it? The magic phrase "I'm overworked & underpaid" seems to effect the bosses as if you'd actually pointed a weapon at them. Try saying it to your overseer & see what happens. Unless of course you're such a sucker you've literally mortgaged your freedom & liberty (joke words w/o meaning) w/ a mortgage, lazy spouses/children who expect you to support them†, or owning (i.e., making payments on) anything larger or more expensive than a television.
†They, too are fucking parasites. Ever feel as if you're being stretched on the rack? You are. They have you at both ends.
1 comment:
Meh. In general, you're correct, but I somehow have ended up with the GOOD end of the shit sammich. I 'work' a couple hours a day. I have no 'hours', where I have to be anywhere at any given time. My 'commute' is ten minutes without having to drive on the freeway. My 'boss' is entirely disinterested in managing a direct report, and doesn't actually give a shit WHAT I do. The rest of the company has spent more effort reducing my responsibilities and workload than anything else. I'm all alone in the office at least half the time, and I the only travel I've had to do was a trip to the Christmas party in Beverly Hills (on expense account).
It's true I don't make as much money as I used to (relative, I used to make a LOT of money in the early stupid days of UNIX/Windows/Internet), but I DO make more than the American Household Average, yet have no spouse or snot-nosed children or pets to chew up my set of towels or even potted plants demanding I buy them some Scotts fucking Miracle Gro.
Leaves room for a righteous toys/weapons budget...
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