[--------------------------------------------------------------------------] ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #676 `888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8 888 888 888 888 888 "Oh Boo Hoo! Poor Me" 888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8 888 888 888 888 888 " by RottenZ 888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 6/9/99 o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8 [--------------------------------------------------------------------------] So, while I've sat here, quietly, smugly, carefully for the last few years, brimming over with a sort of cock-eyed self import, my loser friends, for lack of a better phrase, have been arming themselves for the next wave of life. Even as I, the fully sentient being, Jon, have carefully hacked away at whatever bullshit project that I've taken onto my plate, my robotic, mind-numbingly personality-less, drone-like comrades have been sitting alone in their rooms, neglecting what I thought were important social skills in favor of more technical pursuits. They come in neat packages that are little more than buzz words to me; DHTML, PERL, LINUX, all that jazz. Yet to the world beyond my front door, apparently, these words, when added to a coherent resume, are like black gold; a flawless diamond the size of a fist, easily dislodged and pocketed in the blink of an eye. While I've wasted all my time on "creative" pursuits, I've lost the opportunity to join the ranks of the next great marketable ubermensch; corporate whitewash, swallowed whole at twenty dollars an hour. It's easy to fight it, simple to say that the resounding hollowness of corporate life is a soulless road that I'd rather not travel. And yet, pieces of me, those that realize that all the creative pursuits I've followed look as good on a Taco Bell resume as they do on one for a job that really matters, those pieces are furious at the sweeping arcs of tragedy that make up my half-baked existence. These skills that I've failed to acquire might be the boon of the business world, currently, but who knows how they can help me snag the dream job of tomorrow? Who knows how far that someone with both the gift of an imagination and the rote technical skills that so many young people seem to possess could go? But none of that bullshit matters, because I don't have those skills, and probably never will. And the worst part of this mess is that I'm smart enough to pierce the surface of this world; I've already lodged my sticky fingers deep into the crust of technology. Like some sick mayfly I've swallowed and regurgitated and swallowed again my own small plot of silicon; it's as much a part of my life as breathing is. But I'm just too stupid, or maybe too lazy, to dig any deeper. While I should be picking up new ideas and transforming myself into a dangerous modern warrior, I'm wasting my time writing offal like this. And for what? The two or three of you that have bothered to stick with me this far? Well, fuck the both of you, I say, and while I'm at it, fuck me as well. I was going to put some Icarus reference in here, but I can't make it fit what I'm trying to say, so I won't. My point is... my point is that my miserable, stinking life is just one big waste of time. Period. [--------------------------------------------------------------------------] [ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #676 - WRITTEN BY: ROTTENZ - 6/9/99 ]