DIY: How To Drink Whiskey
Is this some kind of trick? How to drink whiskey?! Are you kidding me?
“You know how to drink, don’t you? You just put your lips together and suck.”
No shit, Sherlock. Every newborn that ever successfully met a nipple knows that much.
Why do the DIY nut jobs have to overcomplicate everything? I think they got a screw loose.
OK, smartypants. How do you drink whiskey?
Star Wars: Seventh Heaven
“Basically there’s going to be two Death Stars,” Abrams said. “They symbolically represent your testicles which will be snipped by the end of the film.”
Warning: I am about to bitch about Star Wars. This in no way should be construed as an inference I will not see the film. Of course I’m going to see the bloody film. They can shit on a plate and call it steak jarjare for all I care and I’m going to lap it up. I have as much chance of boycotting the film as a heroine addict has of telling his supplier to go to Hell. Even with Disney at the helm fairy tales do have their limits.
“Always two there are. A filmmaker and a sucker.” I’d be the latter.
Here’s my $42. Take it. I feel pathetic enough. You don’t have to rub it in. Just let me in and soon I’ll feel dirtier than Luke Skywalker in a trash compactor scene. I’m pathetic. I’m scum. No, scratch that. I’m rebel scum. I’m lower than a Denebian tick on a swamp rat on Degobah.
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McFucker McWalgreens – A Tale of Two Shitties
At least in the United States of America people have rights. For those at the lower end of the equity scale, however, the sole purpose of allegedly having rights is so you can feel bad when they are taken away.
Be born. Grow up. Get a job. It’s the American way. And what do you expect in return, besides being subservient to a douchebag, I mean? You expect to be paid. Minimum wage, yo.
We all know the elitists at the top of the equity teeter totter hate minimum wage. People like Michele Bachmann wanted to be a lap dog for these folks. She famously said, “If we took away minimum wage – if conceivably it was gone – we could potentially wipe out unemployment completely because we would be able to offer jobs at whatever level.”
Yeah, if only we could get that minimum wage down life would be better for us all. At $1/hour there would be virtually no unemployment. Hell, at a penny an hour every American could have 10 or more jobs and still not enough money to buy enough food to survive.
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Staff Infection Meeting
I once quit a job over a staff meeting. True story. I’m sure it’s documented here on the blog somewhere, but long story short, they made us on the 6am crew stick around for a 5pm meeting. I asked, “Is it important?” Our managers assured us it was. “You have to be there,” they said.
The meeting started and the first item of business was rolling out birthday cake for our safety director. At 5-fucking-o-clock. It’s not like most of us would be consuming dinner any time soon.
Then, for the icing on the cake, the rest of the hour was consumed by our managers reading memos to us. Line-by-line. Word-by-word. Like we were in kindergarten or something. Memos that had previously been delivered to our inboxes. Memos I had already read on my very own. It was worse than an insult to our intelligence. It was calling us babies.
After the meeting I opted to go back to my desk rather than heading straight home. I sat there and wrote out a memorandum of my own. Perhaps you’ve heard of it. It’s a classic piece of Americana called the letter of resignation. I plopped that puppy on my manager’s desk and then called it day.
Good times.
In another place and another time there was another staff meeting. This one involved the quintessential management tool known as the employee survey.
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Nom-Nom Nom-de-Plume Nomenclature
Last night I thought about the boss and clutched my chest in pain. Other people, I guess, refer to this phenomenon as “the drive home.” To each their own!
Easy come, easy go. Another day another feeling like needles are stabbing your ventricles. It’s all in a day’s work. And required per the Employee Handbook.
Recently someone in a comment here on this very blog revealed that they refer to a coworker as The Manwich. (I’m too lazy to go back and look for the author of this absolutely brilliant comment. Speak up and take a bow.)
Giving pet names to coworkers behind their backs is a time-honored technique for workers dealing with the mind-numbing bullshit of their dreary existence in the pursuit of the almighty dollar.
It’s a practice we honor here now on this Feckless Friday.
Today’s challenge is twofold: Tell us about pet names for cretins in your office and/or tell stories about times when someone stepped in it by using the term within earshot of the victim.
Good times!
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He Tasks Me
I give the orders around here.
This post is dedicated to The Boss whoever it* may be. Ed.
It happened on a work day. (Holy fuck. Is that the scariest opening ever or what?)
It was the arrival of a package that prompted the fun. The boss stopped everything he was doing. Ooh, a package had arrived.
Must. Open. Now.
His fleshy, grubby and unwashed digits picked up the box and it rotated in his massive NFL-style steroid-induced mitts. A piece of gooey food substance jiggled in his beard as he moved.
“Oh look,” he said. “I got something for you.”
Inside? You guessed it. New business cards for my department, the department where he always claimed I was in charge and had autonomy.
The cards were emblazoned with his name. Not mine. And underneath, the business title was printed. “Manager.”
Indeed.
Some time later he indicated with an explosion of gas that he had a “task” for me.
All hail the task!
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The Company You Keep
“Company.”
The dictionary defines the word as “a commercial business.”
Wikipedia, as usual, is a bit more verbose:
“A company is an association or collection of individuals, people or “warm-bodies” or else contrived “legal persons” (or a mixture of both). Company members share a common purpose and unite in order to focus their various talents and organize their collectively available skills or resources to achieve specific, declared goals. Companies take various forms such as [a] … [b]usiness entity with an aim of gaining a profit.”
Source: Wikipedia – Company
“Warm bodies?” Holy shit. Wikipedia nails it. Again!
The business manager stormed into the meeting and saw a lot of empty chairs. “God damn it,” he bellowed. “Get me more warm bodies in here!”
Most of us born and bred in the United States wholly swallow – hook, line and sinker – the premise that a company is an organization comprised of human beings with the shared goal of making money, i.e., acquiring profit.
My purpose here today is debate the other point of view, that this concept we’ve so fully accepted is complete and utter horseshit.
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Shouts from the Abyss 
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