Thursday, 15 May 2008

career




HOW DO YOU DO…
a career


Parents keep telling you to get one and you’ve looked all over eBay?
Job Centre's sacked you?
People tell you you smell, you’re that stagnant?
Your work history reads like an A to Z of a fast food guide?



Confident?
Shit, I hope so. Don’t, whatever whimsical passion you surcome to do a University course that has the words ‘interactive’ ‘media’ or ‘art’ in the title. Because then you’ll have to tell everyone “Yes, but I don’t do drugs anymore, my heads back at the top of my body, and I’m more focused into the whole 9 to 5 jobby whatchma thing” to stand any chance of them letting you use the first aid kit without a senior staff member present. If ‘Interactive media artist’ is your course title, I think there’s an exhibition in a bin down the road. Not that bin, it ain't that repellent and fake filled.



Pro-fesh
Get yourself a suit, remember it doesn’t have to look great but they key is shiine. If you see TV people in suits they bloody shine, not because of Mr lighting man or your own badly placed positioning of the TV set. They buy the equivalent of a solar panelled suit so those seemingly teeny tiny PDAs can run off the power generated from just a starbucks stroll. That is power, is class and now is you. Top this off with Audi cufflinks and the biggest and the pinkest tie, now you can go sky high.


Hold on a magic roundabout minute!
Why do you want a good job? Because it gives you money. Why do you need money? To buy the latest things. Why do you need to buy the latest things? Because high society and the Government tell you to. Why do they tell you to? Because they've got good jobs. Okay carry on.


The ladder
A career is not like a ladder, it’s like a really arduous battle of will and self-belief and having that ability to suppress those for many years until you realise you’ve wasted many years befriending coked-up power enthused, twats.

The routine is like this: Temp, Permanent Junior, Senior, Section Supervisor, Section Manager, Middle Manager, Deputy Executive Manager, Executive Manager, Regional Manager, National Manager, International Coordinator, Vice President, Senior Vice President, CEO. Some companies are different, they have more titles. Trying, most people will get to say the third or forth job, some in their lifetime will achieve fifth or sixth, one mabye seventh.

No one you know will ever get to be CEO.

But in the end, after all that work, the sex you missed, the bum sweat sex you wished you missed, the all nighters, the smiles and suppression. To come out with the bequeathed title of
Ms Fanny Stainbridge U.K. manager of Tampax, must be so very worth it.



Rule to rule
Talk to your boss. Sit down and have a very direct conversation with him about the toilet rolls in cubicles. Say it undermines your hard-line work ethic to use quilted when you need cushiony soft velvet God damn it! Share your own career goals with him. Tell him you want his job and think he does a shimmering shit job of it now. Say that you could achieve better results with your head in a bowl of frogspawn gargling “my old man said follow the van.” Your boss will respect this display of confidence and maturity.

Be innovative. When everyone talks shop, you talk Power Rangers' new series. Never be afraid to think outside of the box, discuss the cinema and the latest comics.

Don’t ask for more. Volunteering to help out other departments will mean you have less time to play whatever trendy Facebook game with ninjas or zombies is pop-plop poo. Within your first month erect a very strong bulb above your head creating a spotlight for everyone to see who's the divine shining light in this office.

Sharpen your pencil skills, everyone loves sharp pencils. One day, your boss will ask you if you have a pen, give him one of your sharpest pencils and see that look, yes, it’s the same as you had ten minutes before when you got it that sharp.

Don’t listen carefully to people. Do look around while people are discussing important in depth matters. When your confident with your observations, tell the room. “Yes, true as that
appears to be David, your missing the point, why do we have mouse traps but I never see any mice, arrrrrrrh. Exactly.”



I have a dream
Dream, dream for that penthouse, dream for the yacht your boss has, dream to fly business class, dream because it won’t happen. Your boss is your boss because he realised that he, only he, can get all that stuff, not you, your some upstart who wants his bath tub.



Mein shaft
Not had a promotion in a while, best thing to do, create a crisis. Deliberately make a part of your company break, then because you broke it, you are the best person to fix it. One thing, you didn't break it, well you did, but to your boss, it was Bob with warts, or Victor with the vein face, maybe divorced debt Donald or too-tight Claire with the terminal cancer.

Slander colleagues who want to achieve and are better than you but just haven’t got the lack of morals you have. Even if their family goes hungry. I mean, hey he gets free coffee and biscuits, he can provide.



Succeed
Succeed you have to succeed, if the boss puts that big old wrinkly cock in your mouth you know you're going to succeed, cos he wants you. If he lays his trust in your hand you know he wants it handled well.

There will be compromising times, times you wish you were somewhere else, times that make you think is it all worth it. But when you look out of your office window into that grey monoxide clogged city with all those millions of people in those thousands of office blocks all thinking the exact same thing, you know you're right.




“If you are very involved with your career where it becomes your 24 hour life, it is easy to not worry about relationships. As for love, if people don’t want it, they avoid the people that would offer it. I’ve done it. As for meeting someone when you get older, I have noticed a lot of women in their 50’s who are willing. Most of them either have had kids but are not in a relationship. Or the ones who are childless I find are not trying very hard to turn me down.” Anon

Tuesday, 6 May 2008

god



HOW DO YOU DO...
god


Didn't already know?
Everyone tells you you've got a 'God complex' and your lives relatively simplistic and don't even know a God?
Better not try this.



Thy kingdom
What do you want to control; a planet, a friggin Petra dish, a galaxy, maybe the whole bleeding universe or even the entire concept of what everything sumounts to be? Are you a leader or a crazed megalomaniac?



Godly
What d'you wanna look like? Historically God's have had many incarnations: Gases, TV personalities, penguins, Alanis Morrisette (if your that way inclined), fat friendly men (if your the other), dolphins, stars, blobs, epervessant light, multi appenedaged old men with beards, bald boys, flipper. Pretty much owt you like that isn't Morgan (oh please give me another God role) Freeman.



God get up
White, white, WHITE. Why white? Because in heaven you don't get stains, simple, simple? Yep cos if everyone could wear white they would do it for a bit and in that bit, be God, n look a tad odd. Nah tie dye, nah black. How about being that gratiousatus clothes would be an insult to an abomination.



The flock
It's essential you create a following. If no one knows you exist it's a bit rubbish being God, kinda like been incharge of the UN and realising no one gives a fuck about it. The best way to do this would be to get a TV channel, call it 'God' or 'Yiiass me, yes the silly sod!' Have some celebrity special to launch it with a starfish winking Madonna performance. Now audiences aren't stupid? You have to create an extravaganza of biblical proportions: Raise a sunken cock, make it rain menstuation fluid, blow uranus, turn everything adjacent, bring every man back that ever tossed off Julius Ceaser, something that'll keeps the ratings up and won't just end up as a footnote to I LOVE 2008.

Once you got them, you can sit back while they build oddly shaped buildings in your honour and have strange conversations in there about what they think you would say without you actually been part of the exchange. Like they think you're omni-retarded.



Show'em
Exercise divine muscle over everyone. Be the raging fuckin super-power. Burn, abuse, drown, kill, confuse, falter, starve, terrorise and then destroy with a knowing Baron Greenback like cat that jeers and sneers. Because you are God, you are all and all is worthless and you are worthless, powerless, useless, infertile, nothing.

Hi god, bet your feeling quite small right now but shit you have to cope with that kinda confused criticism. That and sceptics. People who just don't believe in a book you got some people to write that's not that entertaining, seems to drag alot and have too many supporting characters. I'm just saying for part two razzle it up a little, have an addiction an affliction, a clit ring accident, anything other than a good person. God, it's so dated.

See God everyone thinks they got an opinion. The best way to handle any God job is to be half arsed. Carelessness is the only way to go, ask em. They all watch us like we're entertainment, handing out floods and earthquakes while privatly having a increasing violent war with the other Gods about their 18,000 year popularity contest, madness, divine madness.




So watch ya waiting for?
It's ok, reelax this whole thing is all just a big computer game called First Life. Our simplistic human and animal creations and relative binary coded theorem of cause and effect conciseness was, is and will be acted out in our virtual constucted terraferma. Earth, or as the programmer calls it Bertha. Any hilarious and stupidly embarrassing events are captured and replayed on a behemoth sized God Tube for a gaggle of Buddha's to giggle at. Even our sky is a 500,000,000 mega-pixel photograph that shakes every so often to give the idea of perspective. You need to complete the guided tour of Milton Keynes, Microsoft Word and all of The Rock's "films" and then you'd become the next Quantum spiritual htmliio. Or have I have just being reading too much New Scientist backwards?