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so anyway I'm just standing around minding my own business when reality, that arch fiend, cold cocks me from behind
and before i can get off even one round blackness overcomes me and i succumb to the hazy night only to wake to find
that my hair is short and i'm inexplicably wearing a silk noose and an oxford shirt and i'm like, what the hey? why do i get
the queasy feeling that all of this could mean one thing and one thing only and that is i went out and got myself a real
job, a career, a path, a concept most alien to my being and i can feel my innards screaming make it stop! make it stop!
only i can't and there i stand at the corporate maw with it's gnashing teeth, putrid black tongue licking its dripping blood
red lips, eyes rolled all the way back in their sockets and rumbling at me in a voice so deep that cracks form on various
parts of my corporeal self, "you didn't want to grow up! you were content to float aimlessly, only making the pretense of
progress, well, heh, heh, heh, we've got you now, sucker!" and i look up at the words floating in the dank air above the
beast and they are vaguely familiar, "Abandon all hope, you who enter!" ,which for some reason i find divinely funny, but
all my resistance is futile and i find myself stepping through the maw and onto the pulsing tongue and the maw slams
shut behind me as the sound of rotting teeth colliding echoes through my head and i'm thinking, as is my wont, do i want
to work for a company that's desperate enough to hire me? if their judgement's that poor, how much longer can they stay
in business? and most of all what the hell am i going do now when i actually start working there and they find out i don't
know nearly as much as they think i know... will they take me out back and shoot me or maybe they'll get on the
company PA and announce throughout the entire building, "Our new hire is a complete idiot who misrepresented himself
during the hiring process, please feel free to drop by his office and spit on him. Thank you. Oh, and the company picnic
will be August 14 this year. Thanks again.", in an effort to shame me into quitting or maybe they'll simply rig up my
computer so that when i hit the escape key it electrocutes me into fried existentialist. (Hey! who burned popcorn in the
microwave again?) and standing there in the belly of the beast i can feel my soul wither into nothingness and as the maw
spits me out back out into the now cold light, i'm the same but different, kinda like the victims in Invasion of the Body
Snatchers. Then again, maybe i'm overreacting. Except i'm wondering what this week's Q might be.
THIS WEEK'S Q: (courtesy Robert Bolt) "Morality's not practical. Morality's a gesture. A complicated gesture learned from books." Comments?
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