Soon everyone would be thinking of Sharon. The package had just arrived. She had won. She had been accepted. It was as simple as that. The competition had been especially fierce and glass shattering, but Sharon had this knack for screams, screams that could turn blood into buttermilk. It was just this basic mood of hers. Her scream hit a nerve, a razor sharp balance between modern existential alienation and Nina Hagen on amphetamines. That's why her friends urged her to submit an application to the committee. The Council of Archetypes was broadening the collective unconscious to afford better representation to women. The special-delivery postman handed her the award certificate naming her the female counterpart of Edvard Munch's Skrik, the anguish archetype. Soon everyone would be thinking of Sharon...
Story #168
Note from Indeterminacy: In observance of "Free Mojtaba and Arash Day" (February 22, 2005), this blog stands for the right of freedom of speech and expression for bloggers everywhere.
2 comments:
I see you've met my new Inflate-A-Mate. This model not only has 'French' and 'Greek' openings, she also has perfect nostrils for the forbidden dance, nasal sex. Glass eyes standard equipment, French maid outfit optional ($3 more).
If you live in Iran, you have no guarantee of free speech. I don't think anyone should be imprisoned for having thoughts, but always consider where you're having them. Several new hires at my last job didn't make it past the second week because they told what they thought of our more mentally-challenged customers on their LiveJournals. It was right there in the contract they signed the company could do that. Always leave the shithole before complaining about the smell.
That website also deals with employee-company issues, which are not as clear cut. On the one hand, you usually sign a confidentiality agreement when working somewhere, on the other hand, who cares if you post about your experiences, if the company involved is kept anonymous.
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