If I
believed in swearing to God,
I would
pledge on the day I get to quit my job to smash
the
Okidata line-printer used outside the door of my office
to vomit rural
utility billing statements from DOS software
with a
sledge hammer and stomp the crap out it in the parking lot
like in
Office Space for the hell it has railed on my ear drums
while trying
to subdue my rage as a lame-ass CPA in nowhere Louisiana.
A pox on the
foul printer!
Nazgul ring wraiths be a better lullaby!
Nazgul ring wraiths be a better lullaby!
You are
drowning out Bob Dylan's Song to Woody!
May the archaic
software that demands its vile cacophony combust!
Where are
the angelic hackers to quell this foul screeching harpy
from my orchestration
of account groupings
of the
public safety paragons of the Livingston Parish Sheriff’s Office?
Oh, my
New Orleans
we will reunite
under the bridge of your river and
reconcile
the horrors of the great wasteland!
Bring me
home!
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