Employee Meeting ... Argh

You know, the other weekend I started to write a relatively upbeat blog entry about a classic artist that I met. I don't know how current it still is, but I might write about the experience anyway. Just so not every entry here sounds morose or bitchy.

Yesterday, we had our employee meeting. Employees swayed back and forth in glassy-eyed reverence as warblers in three cities ran rock music through the corporate propaganda sausage machine. That's when I decided.

I'm in a cult.

And as cults go, this work cult is pretty lacklustre. I mean if I were to be in a cult, I'd prefer it to be a Satanic one. They have much better music, funky costumes, psychotropic drugs to take the pain away -- oh, and lots of willing beautiful virgins ready to offer themselves to ugly guys. (At least they seem to on TV. Never could figure out how that works in reality.)

I mean, really, it's a pretty substandard cult that doesn't have a virgin sacrifice.

Oh wait. Damn. I'm the virgin sacrifice, aren't I?

Suddenly cults seem a whole lot less sexy.

Allen

P.S.: I shudder to think about who might visit this entry after a blog search.