58 lines
3.5 KiB
Plaintext
58 lines
3.5 KiB
Plaintext
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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #676
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`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8
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888 888 888 888 888 "Oh Boo Hoo! Poor Me"
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888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8
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888 888 888 888 888 " by RottenZ
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888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 6/9/99
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o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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So, while I've sat here, quietly, smugly, carefully for the last few
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years, brimming over with a sort of cock-eyed self import, my loser friends,
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for lack of a better phrase, have been arming themselves for the next wave
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of life. Even as I, the fully sentient being, Jon, have carefully hacked
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away at whatever bullshit project that I've taken onto my plate, my robotic,
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mind-numbingly personality-less, drone-like comrades have been sitting alone
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in their rooms, neglecting what I thought were important social skills in
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favor of more technical pursuits. They come in neat packages that are
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little more than buzz words to me; DHTML, PERL, LINUX, all that jazz. Yet
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to the world beyond my front door, apparently, these words, when added to a
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coherent resume, are like black gold; a flawless diamond the size of a fist,
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easily dislodged and pocketed in the blink of an eye. While I've wasted all
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my time on "creative" pursuits, I've lost the opportunity to join the ranks
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of the next great marketable ubermensch; corporate whitewash, swallowed
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whole at twenty dollars an hour.
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It's easy to fight it, simple to say that the resounding hollowness
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of corporate life is a soulless road that I'd rather not travel. And yet,
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pieces of me, those that realize that all the creative pursuits I've
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followed look as good on a Taco Bell resume as they do on one for a job that
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really matters, those pieces are furious at the sweeping arcs of tragedy
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that make up my half-baked existence. These skills that I've failed to
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acquire might be the boon of the business world, currently, but who knows
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how they can help me snag the dream job of tomorrow? Who knows how far that
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someone with both the gift of an imagination and the rote technical skills
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that so many young people seem to possess could go? But none of that
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bullshit matters, because I don't have those skills, and probably never
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will.
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And the worst part of this mess is that I'm smart enough to pierce
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the surface of this world; I've already lodged my sticky fingers deep into
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the crust of technology. Like some sick mayfly I've swallowed and
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regurgitated and swallowed again my own small plot of silicon; it's as much
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a part of my life as breathing is. But I'm just too stupid, or maybe too
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lazy, to dig any deeper. While I should be picking up new ideas and
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transforming myself into a dangerous modern warrior, I'm wasting my time
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writing offal like this. And for what? The two or three of you that have
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bothered to stick with me this far? Well, fuck the both of you, I say, and
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while I'm at it, fuck me as well. I was going to put some Icarus reference
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in here, but I can't make it fit what I'm trying to say, so I won't. My
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point is... my point is that my miserable, stinking life is just one big
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waste of time. Period.
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #676 - WRITTEN BY: ROTTENZ - 6/9/99 ]
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