bull shit sermonette de jour

 "But I foresee that if my wants should be much increased, the labor required to supply them would become a drudgery. If I should sell both my forenoons and afternoons to society, as most appear to do, I am sure that for me there would be nothing left worth living for. I trust that I shall never thus sell my birthright for a mess of pottage."


hardly a warning for the mass of todays job class

this asperger's anchorite sale of a better mess of pottage for a dubious leisure


behold florida's  desolate grizzled  army of the  retired
early birds clutching  till the feeding hour
 to a long  deep drooping telephone line

or the idle corner boys of harlem
like so many seals arfing away on a rock

this  is the  guts of the why
  riding around  inside the job ethic