I am officially ON STRIKE as of right now.

My reasons are legion. BooMan does not provide me with health care, a decent living wage or adequate working conditions. Come to think of he doesn’t pay me anything. And I have to work from HOME! (Wait a minute, that’s not all bad, he can’t see me when I goof off on company time, or leave work to to go get a latte and chat up the cute Baristas, or. . . nevermind). And the worst thing of all, is he never offers me any help writing my stories. He’s heartless, I tell you.

But anyway, I deserve more. And better, lot’s of better. Like a personal assistant to do all my typing, a personal editor, a personal writer (to take my ideas and flesh them out for me), a personal masseuse (this is a very stressful job, after all, and I need my back muscles kneaded by a professional) and a public relations assistant to get my name out there so I can become an A List blogger and get my own damn blog and make the big bucks by appearing on Countdown or Hardball or at least the Rachel Maddow Show. But will BooMan spring for these necessities to advance my brilliant career? Will he even consider my more than reasonable demands? Do I really have to answer these questions?

So you won’t be seeing me around here no more. Not on your life. Until tomorrow. Maybe. Probably. But nothing for the rest of today! Take that Big Man with your name on the Green Banner next to that poor frog you’ve been torturing for years now by putting him in stress positions! See if you can make it through the night without me. I dare you!

Phew. I feel much better now that’s off my chest.

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