The Headmaster Ritual

Fuck these people, i mean i'm really just trying to be a responsible imaginary parent and a responsible employee but now not only have they held up the hoops they've lit them on fire as well, they being the fuckhead middle and upper managers of the world, i believe the only ambition these people have besides stepping, stabbing and screwing over anyone in their career path is to be a massive hemorrhoid on the asshole of humanity...

it goes like this, the imaginary boy gets sick, imaginary dad takes off to take care of said boy, imaginary dad is now caught up in a bunch of bureaucratic bullshit involving doctors, human resource types, upper managers in bad sweaters and middle management bobbleheads, to quote Tim Burgess of the Charlatans, "I wonder what you people do with your life?" in fact it's gotten so fun in Assholeville that i'm easily approaching probation or termination all because the right papers weren't signed and the wrong ones were, the time is documented with valid reason but they have these rules in Assholeville and if you challenge these Muppet's to think you'll be met with a blank stare then a stupid grin, it's as if all the little hamsters have fallen off the wheels when even the simplest of problems arise and it can't be looked up in a handbook, ah fuck what do we do, it's as if this has never been documented before, shit i must be NeilfuckingArmstrong cuz i've gone where no man has gone before except that it happens every day all over the country...

moronic tools run this yinzer fool, spineless swine cemented minds, bobblehead drools this yinzer gets schooled, same old coat since 2ought2, he does the military two step daaaaahn the nape of my neck, i wanna go home, i don't wanna stay, i think i've been fucked with enough for one day... (to be sung to the above song)

and so instead of posting the treatise on what has happened to the working class intellectuals in music and art i sit and whine about the bureaucracy that helps destroy music and art with it's unflinching blandness and unoriginality, which keeps the writer worried about insurance for his imaginary boy, keeps him worried about beer money and the occasional sandwich, to hoist the middle finger is not enough, today i drop trow and expose myself and say "don't patronize me you motherfuckers", at least give me a little tongue before you fuck me, maybe a reach around and some lube you management fucking monkey's... but don't forget that when you toss me back out onto the streets i might just revert back to the old ways of living and then you must remember that you're the lamb and i'm the lion.