The prince of retards, my Jabba the Hut bossman, jellyroll dunderfuck, is getting shit canned. Already volunteered to man the broom that sweeps him and his detritus outta here. He should look for career in modelling for pork product illustrators. Sounds like they are searching for a riding crop wielding nazi to take over his spot. So, still gonna launch from this internet tech sludge pit as soon as the booster jets are fueled.

Trying to fight my ingrained work ethic. I am never late, hardly call out sick, finish projects early and thouroughly, and bust my hump when the need arises. Offset by my attitude of disdain towards the suits and any company rhetoric, deliberate complete removal of any personal stakes here and a constant stream of unfiltered verbal unpolitically correct foul mouthed sick and twisted humor and lifeviews. I want to situate myself to be placed in the bye bye column next round of layoffs. However we actually, ick, profited last quarter, and the usual atmospheric miasma of reorganization grumblings are nonexistent. When dealing with management I don one of two attitudes. Complete poker faced I couldn't give two full diapers about what happens here and sneer faced you can slob my knob with the chunkage your talkin. I would not put it past them to be oblivious to the fact that I despise them. Having survived seven rounds of layoffs, a spanklin cheerleader must be in the works. Think maybe I should bone a cleaning lady on the CEO's desk and shoot a load all over his corporate desk toys.