The besuited and cloistered one,

not yet aware of his future,

of impending doom,

of coming misery,

the loathing,

of the mind,

against body,

the seducer,

of the labor,

of beings,

unaware.

 

 

Unaware that the all-powerful,

Office of Human Resources,

was soon to be created,

simply answered,

“I do not know.”

 

Additional questions then arose:

 

“Where doest the labor of my body lay?”

“Doest it lay in dungeons of smoke?”

“Do I labor for thee in the sweat,

Of my own oily countenance?”

Or do I long toil unto thee,

along-side automatons,

of the creative man?”

 

“Or doest my spirit die in the simplexes,

of the everyman’s repeated spasms of labor?”

Thus Spoke Fred

 

Tomorrow:   “The Shrug”

 

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