Posts Tagged ‘Wage Slave’

Square One

June in DC!  When the lovely spring weather slowly slides into swampland horror. The sun glares down and it’s a humid mid-80’s before 8am.  I try to walk 10 miles a day, despite my soul-murdering sedentary day job, so I push on through Code Orange mornings, breathing in toxic fumes and insuring that I’ll die, […]


Prayer Circle

The 6th of May is the “National Prayer Day.”  I’m very sorry that I know that, but it just couldn’t be avoided since all the pantries in my office building were plastered last week with fliers and posters encouraging staff to “come to the roof between noon and 12:30 and pray towards the Capitol for […]


What do you want to be when you grow up?

This is coming up more and more the older I get:  Where do I want to be in life?  It’s like I’m a teenager again!  SAT time!  If you put your name in the right spot you get to go to college and do drugs and have sex with fast women and drunkenly pass out […]


The Homeless Dollar

I work a late shift, and am often leaving the office around 7pm, trudging up the hill to Union Station, or getting in a good city mile going the other direction to the New York Avenue Metro station and pretending that I’m healthier for the hike. Either way, I always see a slew of the […]


The Land

Ah, winter’s angry hold has finally broken.  The first signs of Spring in Washington are upon us – namely, fleets of landscapers out preparing our corporate greenspaces for the warm weather. Whilst they labor with their hoes and clippers, surrounded by bags of mulch and soil, I’m somewhat nostalgic about my own attempt to change […]


Just Rewards

This has long been a theme for me – being indignant when people defend their wage slave jobs.  I define those as everything from the most menial shit on up to the more acceptable range.  Let’s just say customer service, generally. Life should be enjoyed.  Absolutely.  And I think, too often, we make excuses that […]


Recession Proof

They’re saying that we’re officially in the land of recession, which can only mean that the end is near and we should go hang ourselves in the basements of our foreclosed homes. I’ll let you go do that before I continue.


Compression Ends

Today is the first day back to a normal schedule, after volunteering for a shockingly retarded “compressed” schedule that did nothing but burn my soul to cinders.


Growing Up Breda

On the Metro home last night, I offered up a prayer of thanks to the dark commuting gods because I scored an empty seat and a fairly empty car.  But the commuting gods are fickle.  I got the crazy car.


Sunday Archive VI: Last Day (Wage Slave Rant Draft II)

Gmail cleanout part six! This article was written on the same day in February, 05, as last week’s post.  What I often do is rant in a notebook during my commute, then turn the rant into an article for the front page.  Just skimming this, since I can’t be bothered to read it all, it’s […]