Red Mosquito

spike wrote:

lennytheweedwhacker wrote:

spike wrote:Can you mow the field at Bryant-Denney to make ends meet?

That is working. Stupid is stupid as you are

So it’s not stress but laziness you’re battling.

Simple Torture wrote:My wife had to fire someone last week—it’s the first time she’s ever had to let someone go for performance-based reasons—and when she went to clean out this person’s office today, they had left behind all of the gifts and things that my wife had given to them over the past year (like for Christmas, their birthday, their first day with the team). Fucking woof.

bart wrote:Make them the poor performer gifts - once somebody in the office starts getting them, they know it’s time to get their shit together

Bammer wrote:

bart wrote:Make them the poor performer gifts - once somebody in the office starts getting them, they know it’s time to get their shit together

We have a desk like that in my office. It’s never been done intentionally but …. When someone is assigned that desk, it’s not long before they are outta here.

The Argonaut wrote:Good news for me, bad news for the board. My factory days are soon over. I'm leaving the factory later this month for another job. My new job will not be in a factory. Sorry to disappoint you all, I know how much you've liked the factory content

The Argonaut wrote:I return to the civil service, from whence I came. I'm going to have to wear a tie every day for the first time since 2017. Time to go tie shopping I guess

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.