fuck this job.com

Been a while since I've done a personal rant instead of threading on someone else's. You know things are really bad when the shortest temp assignment you get is three days, whilst the longest is maybe a month. The former was moving rental furniture in ghettotacular Metro-Detroit neighborhoods, the latter and current job is back in another shop. I'm racking and packing cylinder heads and transmission housings to be dipped in Loctite resin. Beats the hell out of that plating factory, but I trade chemically-induced brain death with the possibility of cancer for being balls-tired now. Human beings weren't meant to do repetitive motions for four-hour legnths, I don't care who you are. Wish I knew how to program robots, I'd figure out how to make machines do this mindless bitch work and take my bonus. That would be the crowning achievement for this country to educate everyone on how to do things better while making shit-loads of money and keeping business here, but then the billionaires and crybaby labor unions would shit when their tax-free trust funds and political machinery are at stake. Plus we're still running on the same Puritanical bullshit economics and philosophies that date back to the anal-retentive bastards that Britain kicked out that started the monkey farm, so that's not happening within my lifetime, if ever. It's like being trapped in Atlas Shrugged or something. Everyone has the potential to be great, but the people that profit off of inefficiency, greed, and stupidity are in control. In the end, we all ask the same question, "Who is John Gault?" You don't need some graduate degree to want to change things for the better. I wish Six Sigma were taught in public school starting in third grade, we'd stop producing sheep, and at least start making semi-intelligent apes again. Yet I digress, nobody should be stuck in tedious bullshit forever, guess that's why I keep working for my goals. Keep it evil.

Big man, pig man, ha ha, charade you are
You well heeled big wheel, ha ha, charade you are
And when your hand is on your heart
You're nearly a good laugh
Almost a joker
With your head down in the pig bin
Saying "keep on digging"
Pig stain on your fat chin
What do you hope to find?
When you're down in the pig mine
You're nearly a laugh
You're nearly a laugh
But you're really a cry.
Bus stop rat bag, ha ha, charade you are
You fucked up old hag, ha ha, charade you are
You radiate cold shafts of broken glass
You're nearly a good laugh
Almost worth a quick grin
You like the feel of steel
You're hot stuff with a hat pin
And good fun with a hand gun
You're nearly a laugh
You're nearly a laugh
But you're really a cry.
Hey you Whitehouse, ha ha, charade you are
You house proud town mouse, ha ha, charade you are
You're trying to keep our feelings off the street
You're nearly a real treat
All tight lips and cold feet
And do you feel abused?
.....!.....!.....!.....!
You gotta stem the evil tide
And keep it all on the inside
Mary you're nearly a treat
Mary you're nearly a treat
But you're really a cry.

(Pink Floyd: Pigs-Three Different Ones)