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Poetic Work



This is a guest post by The Urban Blabbermouth. Comments are welcome!

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It is Thursday morning, the day after hump day and a work day and I ask myself why am I getting up to go to work.  The customary answer is to eat and pay my bills.  Seriously?  I can probably work half-a-day, every day and still eat and pay my bills if I can reduce my bills.  I could have bought a smaller house with a much smaller mortgage, a less expensive car with a tiny-winy note, get rid of my overpriced and useless cable TV, or eat out less, but I don't.  Have I become a wage slave to the wrong American Dream?


Poet Ogden Nash on the nature of work:
When people aren't asking questions
They're making suggestions
And when they're not doing one of those
They're either looking over your shoulder or stepping on your toes
And then as if that weren't enough to annoy you
They employ you.

Anybody at leisure
Incurs everybody's displeasure.
It seems to be very irking
To people at work to see other people not working,
So they tell you that work is wonderful medicine,
Just look at Firestone and Ford and Edison,
And they lecture you till they're out of breath or something
And then if you don't succumb they starve you to death or something.
All of which results in a nasty quirk:
That if you don't want to work you have to work to earn enough money so that you won't have to work

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