A Few Things To Consider Before Brown-Nosing In My Presence
1) I hate brown-nosers far more than I hate most other nosers
of virtually any known color!
2) I will make it a point to slap you in front of your superiors,
with a biblical fury, the likes of which, would make Mary Magdalene blush with fits of giggles!
3) You will proceed to cry, even though I didn't actually hurt you; because I slap like a girl - In solidarity for all the girls who slap like me, in what I can only imagine is our previously unspoken solidarity for physical comedy; and then you'll get angry when everyone (including the girls) calls you a whiner
Here comes the ever charming,
never failing, always smiling,
company man:
Sure would like the career opportunity
to slap away that stupid grin
from the smugly disproportionate face
of the man with a plan
that doesn't entail fellowship,
or even good sportsmanship
to wage earners and their dependents.
He wouldn't throw himself under the buss
to help a desperate family climb out of their rut
- But this doesn't necessarily mean
he doesn't consider himself a Christian:
It only explains why he isn't a very good one!
He's everyone's favorite scab,
just waiting to happen
behind the broken backs
of his fellow working-class
- And the boss,
he grows overconfident in his role,
because the boss, he knows,
he can always count on him:
For laboring after a fashion,
to keep on blindly hauling in
the treasures held within;
where their bloodstained corraborating hands
have martyrized the honest working man!
To liken him to Judas Iscariot
would be so embarrassingly easy for me!
Comparing his usefulness to deadwood
would be like breathing some new life
directly into his falsehood!
This poster child for infanticide
is but another lickspittle squire,
graciously content with inane servitude;
craving his coveted knighthood!
Just another fool of his own undoing,
being consumed by his selfish desire!
Not a single ounce of class consciousness
and even less in terms of self-awareness;
good for absolutely nothing
- If he's good enough for something
of such momentousness!
Transmuted by reification
to be made into a mere thing
of the poorest possible social habits:
Locked in a perpetual motion,
Spun up on an off-kilter axis,
subscribed to an endless routine
of massive excess that suits the boss's interests;
in his own shortsighted eyes,
he is the money making machine of free enterprise
- To the vitality of the workforce
he is but a cancerous growth,
needing to be expunged from its host!
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Dialectic Crisis
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