the less than (and more than) pedestrian vote

Ah, hell, the god-damn reductionists won. It is fifty-six, thirty-nine. It is not yet over. Its over, they god-damn won. And I am glad they god-damn won because it serves those assholes right. He is reddening and he orders a martini. Dry, he poses, but the server doesn't look back. They are all unconcerned, fucking unbelievable. The god-damn bastards. This martini better be good. Will you calm down, its not even over yet. Fifty-seven, forty-one? You say that isn't god-damn over. The whole thing is god-damn over. He is perching, on the edge of his seat and tapping, uncomfortably avoiding smoking. The culture has requested that he stop. Cease his activities in general shared spaces. I could fucking stop on my own time, god-damn it. Its not as if the party really expounds on values, he admits. The server returns with the martini. Little fucking olives, he thinks. This place is gonna get what it deserves too. It is filling up, slowly, the white shirt after work crowd. Vultures. God-damn reductionists. You need to take it easy. Take a break. And by the way I think they call them scientists now. Yeah, sure, it probably is fucking science now. But I'll tell you what--this isn't science. Its just stupid, no narrative no god-damn explanation just fucking useless. He is perching still, rocking back and forth, on his seat, like a child, sure, and reddening, still reddening. I didn't think irish got so red, his friend thinks. That is your problem, Carry, you never think for yourself, never walk out of the room and say, fuck you all you bunch of fucking assholes. You never think that this whole thing is just a joke, a phoney fucking joke and we're the assholes. Yeah, you and me, sitting here, drinking here, judging these other assholes, starved for articulation, lost in our own bullshit dialogue, overanalyzing the fucking market, the weak and weakening culture, the greedy assholes downtown--yeah, your problem is you don't even know it. He takes a sip of his martini--and another thing, that stupid girlfriend of yours, whats her name, Lacy, Lucy? Sally. Yeah, Sally. You got to stop bringing her around to the labor parties and prancing her in like she is some god-damn 20s dame and you just got off the fucking yaucht. Its out of control. The music comes on. It is loud. The place is filling up. People ordering drinks. More people ordering drinks. You see, I told you, the god-damn reductionists won. Look at that. One twenty-one to seventy-six. Fuck, we didn't even score any points at the end of that run. What the hell are we supposed to do? Fuck. Keep living this god-damn torn up lifestyle. Compartamentalize a little bit more. Jesus, they expect us to live in shattered motion, keep living in shattered motion. Ah, hell, what got you so steamed, we knew we were gonna fucking lose to these assholes. We always lose to these assholes and then we end up back in the office walking around some god-damn mouse maze and eating fucking cheese out of the water cooloer. You shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have said what. What's got you all steamed. You shouldn't have said that about Sally. She didn't do anything to you and she's only ever been anything but nice to you. Remember that shirt she bought you, yeah the one after you had that real shitty day, all spent in the apartment? You really are a fucking asshole. Hey, I never said I wasn't an asshole but don't try to make me pity you and your sorry ass relationship. This whole fucking structure is sinking and stinking and I'm walking around in shit all day, eating shit all day, and you expect me to walk out of that sewage full of god-damn roses? Its a god-damn shitter. He finishes his martini, plays with one of the olives and looks at the room. Christ, this place is filling up with worse replicas than last year. It seems the new product of assholes out of the god-damn cloning factory, are lacking in spirit. Come on, lets get out of here and stop smelling like shit. I'll buy you dinner. God-damn fucking reductionists won again and I'm still playing the game. I should get my god-damn head checked out.

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