Still Better than Being an Office Drone
It’s time to wake up when I want to wake up. It’s time to have lunch when I want to have lunch. It’s quitting time when I say it’s quitting time. I’m saving around 90% of my take home pay.
And then, I have the best office view around.
I enjoy watching people wink up their nose when I say I am a truck driver. I enjoy hearing them criticize my choice to leave the
noose news business. I enjoy watching them fling whatever shit they can fling at me.
For I know if corporate drones who are helplessly dependent on the myths and the debt slavery the system subsists on are attacking me, that I’m on the right path.
Down the road I go.
It’s not long until I’ll be leaving The Matrix again. And they’ll be fighting rush hour traffic to go back to their cushy prison cell, riding their new car in a circuit between their Office Space and back to the clutches of their fatass wives in between feeding her penchant for wasting money on materialism and recreational eating.
And I’ll be sliding inside of some 21-year old in between writing, sunning my white ass on the beach, drinking wine and smoking cigars.
A free man.
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