Much ado about poopshit

Although Shakespeare was truly masterful in his craft, nothing can compare to the fiction created on a daily basis by any and all pro company maggots trying to suck their way up the corporate ladder. Ra-ra-raing dipshits galore these days and I swear I’m going to make the investment and buy brown poopy pompons for the whole Brady bunch loving gang. Do you hear that? You guessed it, they’re practicing the perfect cheer.

“Try you must, try you may,
Flee, escape or get away,
Cheer your team and cheer the company,
Or puke your guts in wretched agony.”

YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY…


I swear the levels of false optimism reach nauseating heights as of late and you can’t help but feel sorry for the naïve buckaroos that swear that it’ll all make a flipping difference in anyone’s life, especially theirs.

“Hey team, it’s ok if you work 60 plus hours a week because it’s for the good of the company. TEHEE”

“Turn that frown upside down, I TOTALLY understand what you’re going through but you gotta tough it out. Wait, is it 6 PM already, gotta jet, tootles.”

“Our president is the best president in the whole wide world!!! He’s also so handsome.”

Somebody please lend me a twelve gauge. Or better yet a rusty moldy pissed on saw. Yeah. Something blunt and bloody and painful. Bring it. Much ado is right, because it’s a whole lot of fuss over meaningless banter. It’s blowing hot air up their own asses in the hopes that it’ll be contagious so we don’t realize how devilishly we’re getting fucked each and every work day of our lives. It also happens to be annoying, very annoying so please luv, desist from insisting because much ado about poopshit is merely reason to spit at thee. Cheers.