Greetings Me Droogs N Droogttes!
Home safe at Casa el Grande Campesino. Let me tell ya, it’s really good to be back home. Training and staying in a top notch hotel is one thing, it’s entirely another to have to be in Ft “Muh Diversity” Myers. Place is an absolute shithole. And the drivers? Let me tell ya, moving down here from the People’s Socialist Republic of Assachusetts, I thought the folks here in Tampa were bad drivers.
Lord, he know not of what he speaks.
No wonder Ft Myers is BOOMING with personal injury lawyers and fucking body shops. That and pawn shops, tattoo parlors, payday-check cashing joints and marijuana dispensaries. And oh yeah, failed fucking malls. Lots and lots of near-to-empty failing or already failed malls.
Reminded me of one of the earlier “Living Dead” Movies seeing these giant acres of empty malls…
Creep AF if you know what I’m saying.
Yeah, not much there, Peoples Glorious Tractor Factory had the monthly meeting where I was called out by the Supreme Leader for above average production. Makes one feel good to know I’m ahead of the power curve, but of course with that means the inevitable knives out for my back from someone, somewhere Aye?
Nature of the corporate beast.
Been There, Done That.
Usually in certain corporate jobs when I was the Number One performer, and someone else decided they wanted to play ‘office-poly-ticks’…as I call it “Fuck around and find out”… I have had in the past the occasional opportunity to elucidate to the offending person the following… usually when I’m alone with the fucker, and no one can say I did or did not say the following:
“OK Bob, I dig you want to climb the ladder.. to you, stabbing someone in the back is a metaphor for getting ahead. But lemme tell you here, the problem here is Sparky, is that for 20 plus years, stabbing someone in the back was just the opening act before I -literally- took my KaBar combat knife and ran it thought the targets jugular and larynx. Kept them from shouting out as I lowered their bleeding-out corpse to the ground. Maybe a couple extra hard thrusts into the kidneys to assist with the quick-and- quiet bleed out. Now, so we’re clear, if you ever try to fuck me like that again, I’ll go “American Psycho” on your ass so quickly they won’t know what happened to you, so, as Rodney King used to say, ‘Lets all get along’, M’Kay?”
Usually did the trick. Word spread especially if and when Bob started blabbing. The stories would get back that “Oh yeah, Big Country? Fucker has a body count IRL!” usually did the trick. But anyways, doubt it’ll happen here. The Old Guard is on it’s last Boomer-Legs… and I’m not being mean, but there’s only so many years one can keep up out there before the body fails, (or the mind Aye?). Average age of this shop outside of the IT side of things is like mid-to-late 60’s. Lots in their 70’s.
Whoooooooo BOY are they Karens.
Nice folks, but man… Thank GOD I’m not the manager.
What kills me, is that I’m -finally- getting the reigns of control so to speak at 54+/- YEARS OF AGE. By all rights, I should be training MY replacement, IF we were on a normal schedule of replacement theory. That being said, Grande Dame Winemom of the Senate, Oberfuhrer Ginhag, AKA Peeloser is running for re-election again.
Telling you, the stories of adrenochrome, extended life formulas, and deals with Satan are rapidly losing the ‘nutjob conspiracy theory’ and going into “Why the fuck aren’t these fuckers dead!?!” Mebbe Lizard people? Who knows? Sort of like Henry “Undead Jew” Kissinger.
the list goes on
Fuckers who by all rights should have been dead years ago are -still- on the scene and nominally in charge. No wonder we’ve got infantilized 32 year old cellar dwelling nonbinary genderqueer unicorns-in-the-land-of-make-believe bunch of incapable incontinent incapacitated-by-incorrect-pronoun fucktards following behind us.
Normally, I’d say weep for the future.
Thank Christ at least ONE of my spawn isn’t pozzed the fucking max
In fact, he’s damned near a fucking true believer.
“Gas ’em all, let God sort ’em out.”
And he means it.
As do his friends.
Fucking pure Savages, One and All.
Enough to make an Old Man proud Aye.
Gives a guy hope.
So, More Later I Remain The Intrepid Reporter