Wednesday, 22 August 2012

Of jobs and blow-jobs


In today's world having a job is like giving head. 

A part-time job means you can use your hands, and your employer can't grab your head. You can go as fast or as slow as you want. However, there's no sleeping on the job. No slacking either. 

A full-time job means no hands and a lot of head grabbing. It also involves getting slapped and spit on. If the master or employer is in a bad mood, thunder fists will fall on the servant's head. In return, the employee gets a full health and dental coverage. Plus, the slave may experience difficulty breathing and thinking. Moreover, working full-time necessitates swallowing every drop. That's why you don't need to go to the food bank when you have a full-time job. It means gagging and vomiting and tears streaming down your cheeks. Swallow! Swallow! Swallow!

There are people who claim they love their jobs. Hearing such a reeking utterance contorts my face with disgust. I always avoid looking at the creatures who dare make this assertion. What I think is: "The semen washed their brains so thoroughly, there's nothing left. Tabula rasa. Their neurons mutated into little black fish swimming aimlessly in the aquarium of their skull. There's only darkness behind those milky eyes. A thick blackness growing out of the compulsion to please and empty the bitter cup of humiliation. Gargle on it as if it's coke."

When such creatures talk, they spit and foam at the mouth. In the grips of curiosity, I put an infection control mask on and study the fermenting yellowish discharge with my magnifying glass. Thus I determine what popped their mental cherry. I know what defiled their brains. The cages they chose to die in. I usually see floating tiny logos and slogans: "Just do it!" "I'm loving it!" "Work hard and party hard!" "Nike but not Adidas" "Sell! Sell! Sell" "M&M Meat Shop" "Self-esteem" "Happiness" "Bank rates" "The customer is always right" "We're here to serve you" "Media" "Wight-loss coaching" and so on and so forth. 

It's easy to show why loving your job is a symptom of an atrophied mind with a decayed will. The jobs available at a point in time are the product of contingent forces over which we normally have no control. They are the effects of states of affairs and powers which were in play long before we were born. The "job market" is an impersonal cold structure; the iron bed of Procrustes. Take a mill-town. Let's say textile-manufacturing is the only business in town, the only way to make a living. It's hard to believe that all people in that area are born with a strong desire to work in textile-manufacturing. It's more accurate to say that the town's residents just settle for it, and extinguish all thoughts that prompt them to do otherwise. Blinded by their desire to make a living, they persuade themselves that there is no otherwise

 
 
Going down on someone is bowing down in front of them. Surrendering your will and entering a pact to forget and repress. Submitting to the other's will, that is the crux of the analogy. 

Once the master imposes his will, he wants to keep it that way until climax. Also insure the possibility of future orgasms. The slave is not to change his mind or make up his mind about something and form an autonomous will. God forbid! He's not to become unpredictable or try to acquire a complex language and utter abnormal questions. Such a thing would ruin the entire experience. 

But that's easy for the masters to achieve because it's difficult for the employee to multitask while giving head. Try reading a book! Try doing your homework! All you can read is the curly pubic hair of your employer and the brown mole close to his linty belly button. You can only study the wetness on his balls and wonder whether it's your saliva or just sweat. Ex nihilo nihil. However, if you're lucky, if the master decides not to unleash his fists on your obedient head, if he finds it in his heart to let you inhale and exhale, maybe you can escape in a fantasy world. That's why the Fantasy Section at big-box bookstores is so huge nowadays. Maybe the misshapen, tortured body of your imagination can crawl over the valley and drown in the river of the Seven Kingdoms. 

There are a two central ways to ensure that the subjugated employee doesn't make up his mind or change his mind about something. First, make sure he doesn't have a mind, or that his mind is so rudimentary and small, the thought of rebellion can't fit into it. Second, make sure he doesn't have a will, or only a degenerate one. Maybe he knows that giving head isn't the best thing he can do with his life, but that knowledge lacks the will which would turn it into action. That knowledge is just a white balloon attached by a string to the bobbing head. The employer can always cut it with scissors and watch it float up in the blue sky. Follow it with a smile.

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