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1~12~00

What can be better, wickeder, or more amusing than gaggles of ignoramuses caught up in impotent rages against their machines?
Don't bother trying to answer. You've either been there or you haven't. If you have then the answer is well known to you. They have a theory at call centers claiming that people can hear you smiling. They say the smile effects the sound of your voice and, no shit, I have to agree since it changes the shape of your oral instrument. The tone and pitch will change just as surely as the size of a drum cavity will do the same. I decided to experiment with the theory by straining my muscles upwards into some form of smile or hideous wince. I conducted this experiment for about an hour and I'm not sure if it changed the way people heard me, but it definitely changed the way the only co-worker in my very immediate vicinity saw me. He looked over once and said, "Oh jesus." I ignored his cry and noted that he moved one computer down from me after lunch. They imply that they want you to smile like some deranged, um, smiling guy but don't know that in the unhappy environment of technical support a grin is one of the scariest looks for other employees to be confronted with. Thus, the grinning fool receives bizarreness reactions from his coworkers as a warning that if this sort of behavior continues it will result in ostrasization and you can just go hang out with the Mac losers because obviously you're having trouble running a lot of your programs.
( I just cracked a techie-esque joke. I hate techies and their jokes.) I'm sick to death of websites about Star wars and The Matrix as well as little darth Maul toys militantly lined up along the cubical dividers, fatmen with ball peen hammer wits who believe they are Don Rickles or some fucking over baked ham of that caliber, losers with hardons for their knowledge of the windows registry or MS Excel, the ceaseless barrage of happy chirruping voices stating their names and division and gently caressing morons to click on the right mouse button, the knowledge that my voice is part of that happy tapestry of nonsense, balding heads glowing under fluorescent lights, drone of keyboards clacking, adjustable chairs always one quarter inch from chiropractic misadventure, legs too long to fit properly under the desk when crossed, my hair being ripped from my head by the clinging headphone set, fifteen minute breaks with nothing to do because I gave up smoking, and the evil fucking ring of a thousand cursed phones. I keep thinking about smuggling in gasoline and maybe setting the bathroom on fire for something interesting. Or something more insouciant like emptying a lunch cooler full of hamsters loose on the call floor. With the maze of cubicle walls and all the delicious wires snaking across the floor, I visualize fat men huffing and puffing, all stooped over chasing after fast little rodents that can dart under cubes and meanwhile computers fizzle out as little hamsters' eyes fry and bulge from their sockets after gnawing through live wires. I could probably do that without even getting caught. I'd go to a pet store in Compton or some such place to buy the fuzzy disasters and my purchase'd be untraceable. Maybe some wise guy at Earthlink would get the idea to release cats to go after the mice.
There was an old lady who swallowed a cat to catch the bird to catch the spider to catch the fly...
I wonder what the stiffest penalty aside from getting fired could be for such an act? I suppose if found guilty I could be held accountable for all damages and any loss of business caused by my actions but then I ask, "What, really, are the odds of getting caught? And don't I deserve this one glimmer of fun and excitement?"
I can't wait until my health insurance kicks in. Soon as it does, I'm going to a psychiatrist and having tests done to see if I have anything that could be considered clinical depression, mild insanity, anything, I don't care. I want some brain disease on paper, then it'd be a hell of lot harder to find me guilty in law if I went bonkers with hamsters. But I suppose they might want to perform tests if I just went ahead and did it anyway. I just don't know if they'd find anything wrong. Actually, it is true that I do have witnesses that could testify in court that by certain laws I am technically insane from past drug use.
But all those hamsters will probably have to be euthanized.

"La,la,la,la La,la,la,lie Even God's little creatures, they have to die."

And isn't that kind of sad? Kind of wrong? Much worse than maybe burning the place to the ground, but it's too late. It's too big. They have buildings all across the country and more money than I'm capable of comprehending, and if they are so weakened by the destruction of one building then things will just get worse when AT&T or some other nameless, faceless corporate Cthulu turns them into puckered face fishmen of their own. Then what will I have accomplished with my purging flames? Big yuckiness, that's what. Sorry hamsters, but it looks like Nick Cave is right about your fate.