Cubicle Chatter

Revenge of the Nerds

Remember when times were simpler? Times where you could shove a nerd into the lockers while strutting down the halls  showcasing your dope letterman jacket. I sure do but guess what, Karma is a bitch. Now, I find myself in a monkey suit serving over priced steak to those nerds I once owned.

While I was out doing my best impersonation of “Biff” From Back to the future, these kids were mixing chemicals in the laboratory becoming the next Zuckerberg’s. In high school, I was the fucking man as I’m sure you’re all  aware. I drank the booze, Kissed the girls and threw the touchdowns all while breezing through high school. Evidently, running a 4.8 40 and being 25 lbs. overweight doesn’t market well when transitioning into the real world.

These children I used to terrorize in the hallways are now bending me over the barrel with these non fixed ARP’s and credit fucking scores. Retribution was swift and severe. Point case, I strolled in a car dealer to purchase a new vehicle yesterday. The whole 0 down with a free cruise was a real hook line sinker for me. Next thing I know, instead of wheeling out in a fresh new car, I’m getting wheeled out in a wheelchair because I just got fucked. These once nerds, roused me into their fancy financial $400 dollar monthly payment.

In the days of past, They would have thrown me into the coliseums with these nerds and I would have been obliterated their kind. Now, their obliterating any chance of me getting full time employment. This is mental warfare which should be categorized the same as nuclear bombs, banned. You can do math, that’s spectacular but how many beer cans can you smash over your head? Einstein? Aristotle? Fuck that, we need more Rambo’s. Last time I checked, an acute IQ doesn’t move a rock, it takes 12 chubby meatheads like myself to do it.

If there were more high school heroics like myself, shit wouldn’t be so out of balance in this world. Give this a try, put the calculator down and grab a can of dip. Take for example the Soviet Union, a country who praised  the working man. They didn’t have a propaganda of pencil pushers dialing buttons, they had a plethora of blue collar Demetri’s smashing rocks with their bare hands. If we ever want to salvage a glimpse of what it used to be and restore balance, strap on those letterman jackets and take life by the balls.

Categories: Cubicle Chatter

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