Subject: heart beat

Date: Sat, 13 Dec 1997 01:17:03 -0800

From: biteme@spam.xus (THE Rev. What's His Name)

Organization: (c) 1997 NFN

Newsgroups: alt.fan.kathy-jo, alt.slack

 

death of a thousand cuts.

 

warning. major whine coming up.

 

but, you know, I care, so I hate it.

 

The job. I am so sick and bloody tired of calling receptionists to

"verify your address." that took six weeks, but hurray for me. i mean, i

should have been sick of it in ten minutes, but you know, the rent and

shit.

 

wait. i need a bowl.

 

where is the NEXT bag coming from?

 

fuck, i dunno. but now is now.

 

I know, I know, but dude, did i want to be here at 45? does it matter?

some people say that we are always where we want to be, that we make our

own fate, blah blah.

 

every job I get, they ask me "why are you HERE?" yeah, well, maybe

because i am too fucked up to play nice and let everyone fuck me up and

laugh at me while they play golf. i'd rather just fucking leave, knowing

that i have known them since second grade for the assholes they chose to

be. i saw it all way then, i could tell how it was gonna be for fucking

ever. the loser suck ass assholes would win at "the game," and i would

waste the rest of my life trying to play it. i remember the teachers in

grade school warning me that if i didn't straighten up i would end up "on

the outside looking in," except i already was, so what the fuck?

 

every job i go to i can identify the "boys club" in two point five. they

wear white shirts three days a week. they get their hair cut. they shine

their fucking shoes. and they suck assholes for a living. and they have

cars and houses and pools and either they don't think at all or

who-the-fuck-knows, cause i sure don't. i been to their restaurants, seen

them leer at the lingerie models, leered with them! order that shit for

their girlfriends, big hearty drunken stoned (oh yes, and on the finest

frop, I promise) laugh at those stupid cunts they married. except that

they fuck the models with their credit cards and expense accounts. i know

all that shit that everyone knows and makes believe it isn't really like

that. well, it is exactly fucking like that. that's what runs the

country, politics, business, military. All those assholes who were stupid

enough to let me see it.

 

Except all i see are the same death head pervert football, sports, bully

assholes i always had the honor of seeing real close up, like with their

dicks in my face. I mean i don't give a shit what your gender or

preference is, if you are not them, sooner or later they stick their dicks

in your face and give you a choice: suck or leave.

 

and i did it once, but their representative fucked me too young and fucked

my head up too bad. so now i can walk past their ferraris and their

armanis and their power monster bazillion megafuck computers and, yes,

come in my fucking pants, BUT I WON'T SUCK THEIR DICKS, even if i smile

and tell them "nice one."

 

so fuck it. fancy aint my name.

 

so, you know, fuck them. i could die broke and forgotten, or just

remembered as that fucking know it all asshole loser. and i would win by

a mile. 'cause there are winners and losers, at least on the personal

level, and sometimes winning means refusing to give a shit and getting

fired and being glad, even as you hate yourself for just not giving in

this one time when you really needed the money.

 

but everyone is so fucking desperate. i don't know anyone who doesn't cry

thanks for every pay check, for every time they find an extra buck in

their pocket, while they're working themselves into the ground. and they

people who lay them off get million dollar bonuses for being heroes to the

stockholders who are just their squash partners anyway.

 

I work for "an international organization of company presidents and

ceos." honest i do. i get to say that about 100 times a day. so, i am

calling receptionists and "confirming" their names and addresses off lists

which were "confirmed" three months ago. but, hey, at nine bucks an hour,

they could have me do the same page every day for a month for 1,400 bucks,

so who cares? half a weeks' pay for them. until i become surly and

uncooperative and they get someone else to do it who is oh-so-happy for

the first month becase the by god rent is paid and there's beans on the

table.

 

not so fast

 

fucker.

 

there was an opening for a "system administrator" at this job. but i know

what that means. even a year ago it was e-mail and let me show you how to

surf the net for cool stuff and info and shit. now it means NETCOP,

telling people what they can't do, shutting down their communication,

monitoring every click. that's all the business has come down to. all

this professionalizing of the net and of corporate networks is just some

puritanical peeping on where the boss or the secretary has been surfing

this week and who's e-mailing who and it a stupid slimey little bunch of

creeps, just like you might imagine. hall monitors asking you where's yer

pass. and the idea that anyone like an employee might actually learn

something is so threatening all they can do is laugh at people's hearts

and get them fired because they know that all their secret, precious

knowledge is something that any mechanic who knows how to follow a manual

could learn in a week. but this makes them the "internet gods." what a

bunch of animal house jerks. and management is thrilled that the power is

back, that they control shit again like they did before everyone got their

own pc. so they develop their own little daisy chain of suck ass.

 

so, anyway, it is making me nuts.

 

And now, the asians have seen the light and are getting out. all the

asian markets are collapsing because for the last 20 years the korean and

japanese governments, among many others who copied them, have totally

played along with the banks and the brokers. the revolving door has been

spinning along. so, when things (unsupported credit) spiralled out of

control behind the scenes, no one called anyone on it. to the point where

multibillion dollar brokerage houses collapsed under the calls. now, it

is happening faster, and the public is freaking, getting the fuck out of

the market, but having nowhere else to go, they are hording cash.

 

the safety net is tearing apart. there is no one behind the door, no

wizard, no god who is going to show up and save us and we know it. the

sky isn't falling, it wasn't even there. we are just catching on.

again. but the world isn't ending. it is just that lots of people (yeah,

the same old "them") know how to make an additional ton o' dough in a

panic. after millenial fever dies down, they will remember how to make

their tons with a slow, stable bull market once again. they will rehire

the even more desperate drones and either work them 80 hours/week (for

37.5 hours pay--the glory of "salary"), or hot bunk them on unbenifitted

part time shift work.

 

what i truly do not understand is how there are still enough people to buy

new cars, and houses, and computers (the holy trinity of consumerist

economics). Maybe it is all auto workers, construction workers, and

electronics manufacturing people feeding off each other and then letting

us buy their shit when it is "used."

 

or just kill me.