The only real tragedy when the robot parts spilled out of the corporate elevator was that the five hundred staples I used to eviscerate the robot are not considered "expense budget requisitionable items." One of these days I'll take down the selector switch from "Total Staple Mayhem," to something more reasonable, like "Full Automatic."

But enough of this.

Eisudiem does not allow the concept of cubicles to survive in this corporation. Which is the best explanation as to why there was nothing to stop the AOL-cum-chakram-disc from just barely missing my handsome and well-chiseled face. A second after I heard it embed itself deeply into the wall behind me, I heard the voice of a Desk Drone. "Wow, I was just throwing these things for amusement value. They're like frisbees! But I just read on the AOL disk that it seeks pain from the souls of the pure. Huh, I wonder what that means?"

Oh, what we can learn from reading.

Clearly, this Desk Drone was in the thralls of the Multi-Demon AOL's invisible hand. There will be a stapler-induced cleansing later, for he is not terribly important. My incredible legs propelled me past the Desk Drone, and his seemingly endless supply of me-tracking AOL death disks. And right into the Hallway of Throwing Dart Madness. Eisudiem has been quite clear on the issue: "The more intelligent office worker doesn't work all the time, but when they know that it is the right time."

What this does is clear up time for sharp objects to be thrown.

My chair and I were flowing like the wind. Flawless like the diamond, no mere sentences could describe the action witnessed by the Desk Drones. Only single words, in the ambiguity of their meaning could be used. Teleport. Deflect. Reflect. Collate. STAPLE. The eerie silence that followed my summary quelling of the chaos was one that I once encountered before. Throughout that gauntlet, I was moved further down the floor until I was in a long, long open hallway. I knew where I was.

I was in the domain of the Mailboy.


Blue October - Foiled - Into The Ocean

7

hourly lapses in consciousness

It first started as an official memo from Eisudiem himself.

"There is need in the coming days for me to have an agent. I have heard of you and your chair. As a test of your loyalty and ability, I have deliberately left a manilla folder full of proprietary papers somewhere in a meeting room two floors above you. You are to retrieve this folder and bring it to an Executive's office. You will have to survive those two floors full of dangers. You must also not look into the envelope, no matter what the temptation. Your reward for fulfilling this mission is a veritable bathing of sunshine. Your punishment for failure is death by exploding."

It appears that I have a destiny to retrieve a manilla folder.

If my SUPERCHAIR 3000 had a motor, it would no doubt be revving to very loud levels. But as it is human-powered, I have achieved super-human speed by careening around, kicking off of walls and vending machines. The patterns on the floor blend together as my super-coasting SUPERCHAIR 3000 tears over acres of tight-knit rug. Already after kicking empty desks and silk plants in rolling planters, I see the corporate elevators that will take me to higher levels. The floors where the Executives can be seen.

Upon rolling in, I was confronted with a choice.

Should I tell the berserk laser-wielding robot to go up one floor, or two? Mechanical precision brought my SUPERCHAIR 3000 elevation down a few inches as the burning light flashed overhead. Biological precision put my Golden Staplegun in my right hand in a mere second. Only one thought was going through my head. "It's on the first of the two floors. Why? Searching takes time; while the movie can afford to be shorter, the epic mini-series cannot be too long.

There was a flash of gold and laser red.


Enigma - Le Roi Est Mort, Vive Le Roi - Morphing Thru Time

7

why doesn't my thermostat go up to 300?

Most people haven't heard of the SUPERCHAIR 3000. Very few others would even know what to do with it. Forged with titanium alloy, this six wheeled aerodynamic human transportation unit is a masterpiece of what most people commonly refer to as a chair. And only when occupied by my chino-covered-cheeks is it not only a sophistication of seated power, but an instrument to guide surgical-precision change.

And now, it is time for change.

The harsh glaring light of the corporate-supplied fluorescent lightning is starting to affect me. It isn't so much the sterilized fabric of the cubicle, the questionable minerals in the water cooler, or for that matter - the insipidity of the recycled air that is starting to give me waxy skin and a flaccid expression. There is but one thing missing from my sweet position in this vast corporate empire. Available only to those in the high ranks of the Executives, coveted by the drones at the office, and reminisced about by those who remember their childhood well.

It is the healing rays of the sun.

Those with the connections to management and those who have proven their laziness and total lack of ethics have been rewarded in the drone afterlife with offices with the portals to the outside world, lit by the blinding billion-year-nuclear-explosion in the sky. Those either fortunate or unfortunate enough to be summoned to an Executive's office have seen the light. Their brief glimpses of the awe-inspiring light either boost their morale or fill them with spine-wracking fear, depending on why they have been summoned by the Executive.

Today, I will get to see the light. For I have been summed to the offices of the Grandmaster of the Human Race - the CEO - Eisudiem.

Neither I nor the Executives have seen Eisudiem. We only know he exists by his seemingly psychic memos. The phones are his voice, the Executives are his hands, and today, I am his double-o seven.

Joy Division - Unknown Pleasures - Day Of The Lords

7

i've been here

HA HAAAA!

You are all under my power now.

Check out the new year.

IT IS THE YEAR OF THE SEVEN.

SEVEN IS IN THE HOUSE.

My plans for world domination are going forward at this point. There was talk about Overlord Throne takeover in the ranks, but that is the understandable restlessness in the ranks from waiting until the year 2007. There will be more details as events unfold.


Dead Kennedys - Frankenchrist - MTV Get Off The Air

7

prince albert's still in the can

I've been told by someone nearby (at least in Internet terms) that unless I write more blog posts, I will be decommissioned with a pair of pliers. So, in order to fulfill my goal of retaining all my body parts, I will forgo my usual dinner of chum-sicles and I will create another post.

But first, I have to tell you about THE CONSUMER.

Long ago and far away (a couple of weeks ago and a block from here) there was A STORE. In this store there was A WORLD CONQUEROR, who was attempting to maintain his ruse as a simple citizen selling expensive things to people with too much money. Little did he know, that no amount of secret societies could save him from a horrid fate. In strolled THE CONSUMER. This was a terrifying 5'8" middle aged man who spoke naught but the words of the ANCIENT PANDEMONIUM, pulled from the very grey matter of H.R. Giger, H.P. Lovecraft, and other scary visual and literary artists WHO HAVE INITIALS FOR NAMES.

There was confrontation as order and anarchy were inexorably drawn close. At first there were volleys of bedlam - premeditated attacks by THE CONSUMER. But after a harsh return fire of structured reason and law by THE WORLD CONQUEROR, there began the CARPET-BOMBING OF MADNESS. Opposites clashed as each attempted to establish control over the land, and the lives and fortunes of its people. As the two forces fought, their resources became fewer and fewer, until only the last weapons remained: PROTEAN CHAOS and AN EXPLODING BOWL OF STEW.

THE CONSUMER was the first to strike. BEHOLD HIS WORDS OF OUTRIGHT INCOHERENCE: "Does the shutter need to be open for the camera to take a picture?"

And lo, the EXPLODING BOWL OF STEW was thrown. And there was much rejoicing.

i have to ESCAPE

In other news, for X-mas, I got a 1980 Technics RS-M6 tape deck. It has a hydraulic tape loader, analog needle meters, a three digit mechanical counter, two mono microphone inputs, and a three position tape selector: Ferro-Chrome tape, Chrome tape, and Normal tape. It even comes with built-in Dolby-B Noise Reduction. I think what turns me on is the fact that it is one of the last working pieces of audio equipment that is made mostly out of metal, instead of the cheapness of the all-plastic audioware of today. I just made up the word audioware.

I proudly proclaim to the world that I am a true technophile. Old and new, I love it all.



In Strict Confidence - Exile Paradise - Away From Here

7

i'm being reprogrammed, and i've lost my teddy bear