Work isn’t to make money; you work to justify life. – Marc Chagall
In this day and age I think work may solely be for the purpose of making money. I think it would be wonderful if we could all go out and get jobs we loved doing and didn’t have to worry about making an income by working a crappy job that drains us of our souls, but the fact of the matter is soul draining jobs are what makes our society go round. If money wasn’t a factor then everybody would just be a painter (which Marc Chagall happened to be) or musician, or TV watcher, or Writer. I mean look at all the people already who have to justify their lives by writing crap nobody cares about and posting it on the internet where nobody will continue to care about it and they do this for free, what pathetic losers these internet bloggers are (interesting hearing that come from you) I don’t even begin to know what you’re talking about. But behind sleeping, work is going to be the second thing most people do in their lives, so why shouldn’t it at least help justify their life? Luckily for me I use sleep to justify my life. I don’t know if I can be one of those people who gets a job they hate and works it their whole life. That’s one of the biggest things that scare’s me about life. I know it’s part of life for most people, but it’s a part of life I’d like to avoid. I admire the people who can go out and work a job they hate their whole life in order to pay the bills for their family. I really do. Those stupid bastards have my full admiration. I mean screw Obama, all he does is raise my taxes and laugh about it (first of all you don’t have a job and therefore don’t pay taxes) true (and second of all you voted for Obama) also true, and I think he’s a great president [coughs* for a black man] I’m kidding. He’s far better than the self-righteous, Arab hating, cracker we had before him. But the jury is still out if he’s better than the pervert we had before Bush Jr. Boy did I love that pervert. But the point that I was trying to make before I got off topic as I always do is that Obama doesn’t make this country run, and neither do high priced lawyers or Doctors, or CEO’s of Fortune 500 companies. It’s the peanut counters, and the box movers, and pill poppers (no), and the burger flippers, it’s those people who knocked up their high school girlfriends and got crappy jobs to pay for the baby and now fifteen years later they still have those crappy jobs and go home every night to their callous unattractive wives who won’t have sex with them so they go out to the bars while unbeknownst to them their wives sleep with their best friends and at the bar they drink their sorrows away, but it’s only for the night because their sorrows will be back tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that and everyday for the rest of their pathetic lives, and they wonder where they went wrong and the answer my friend is at birth, it was being born where they went wrong, it’s them, those poor pathetic son’s of bitches that make this country so great.
God bless them. And may they have a great labor day.
And why do they call it Labor Day anyway? I mean it’s one of the only days of the year that people aren’t supposed to work, yet it’s called Labor Day, essentially Work Day. It should be No Labor Day right? right? (crowd boos)
And a special happy birthday to my buddy Thai Son – may your twenty-second year of life be leaps and bounds better than your twenty-first – and also happy birthday to my new chum Lizzy, who probably isn’t even reading this.