Hello, my name is Jeffery Paxton. I am a bureaucrat working inside the United States Government and I fucking hate your guts. You’re probably asking yourself what a bureaucrat is and does, right? And why this will inevitably affect you. Well, to answer this, I suppose I’ll just describe myself.
Do you remember that sort of weird kid in grade school, the one who wasn’t mean or anything, but never really went out of his way to say “hello”? The one who was average at math, average at history, average at English, and had absolutely zero talent for or trace of physical or artistic ability? Maybe he ate cheese sandwiches every day for 12 years, and when the opportunity came to do something mildly risky, say, skip school with friends, he chickened out or he told his parents what happened right after? That’s me.
But that’s OK. You see, there are more of us than there are of you. Lacking the drive necessary to excel in the private sector, together, we as one amassed as a series of intricate cogs which comprise the cold, heartless machinery of government. And there we sit in our cramped, confining office areas, under the bright, pale, fluorescent light, hating every single one of you.
You had a dream. Not only that but you had the balls and resources to carry out your dream. Fuck you. We hate you so goddamn much. That’s why everything is designed to make your happy life miserable. Those of us who never went to college are the blunt faces you see every day, at the DMV, the post office, the court houses; anyplace where you are forced to put up with unnecessary bullshit. We are the reason your mail gets lost. Ever received a third notice on a bill but you don’t remember getting the first two? Those men and women who serve this line are the angels of wrath and those of us who have a college degree are God. For what is more powerful than complete control over someone else’s life? Having complete control over more lives.
It is those like me who you should truly fear. We are the paper pushers. We are the handlers of sensitive information. We are the conveyor belts of policy. We handle the votes, we re-write bills, and we foreclose on your house. We don’t like you or your goddamn freedom at all. We are the reason gays can’t marry. We are the reason marijuana will never be legalized. We were the reason for this. Want to know how? I’ll let you in on a little secret; politicians are pill-popping suit dummies who don’t read what they are signing. Don’t believe me? Just keep watching the news. I think I’ll have all the tea in China banned in a trade embargo. That’s it. No more green tea. It will be surprisingly easy to blame this all on China, too. I also write politicians speeches.
Anyway, I should probably get going. My lunch break is only 25 minutes and I already spent 15 talking to you people. I’m eating shrimp flavored cup-n-noodles. The doctor says my weight problem is adding unnecessary stress to my heart, so I’m more likely to suffer a heart attack. But it’s not like my celibate wife or fag son will miss me when I’m gone. I wish my heart would explode. Right there at the dinner table. I’d sit down, say “meatloaf again?”, lean back and let my chest burst open. Cover my family with black, dark gore, just as the evening news comes on. That’s how I want to go.
Do you remember that sort of weird kid in grade school, the one who wasn’t mean or anything, but never really went out of his way to say “hello”? The one who was average at math, average at history, average at English, and had absolutely zero talent for or trace of physical or artistic ability? Maybe he ate cheese sandwiches every day for 12 years, and when the opportunity came to do something mildly risky, say, skip school with friends, he chickened out or he told his parents what happened right after? That’s me.
But that’s OK. You see, there are more of us than there are of you. Lacking the drive necessary to excel in the private sector, together, we as one amassed as a series of intricate cogs which comprise the cold, heartless machinery of government. And there we sit in our cramped, confining office areas, under the bright, pale, fluorescent light, hating every single one of you.
You had a dream. Not only that but you had the balls and resources to carry out your dream. Fuck you. We hate you so goddamn much. That’s why everything is designed to make your happy life miserable. Those of us who never went to college are the blunt faces you see every day, at the DMV, the post office, the court houses; anyplace where you are forced to put up with unnecessary bullshit. We are the reason your mail gets lost. Ever received a third notice on a bill but you don’t remember getting the first two? Those men and women who serve this line are the angels of wrath and those of us who have a college degree are God. For what is more powerful than complete control over someone else’s life? Having complete control over more lives.
It is those like me who you should truly fear. We are the paper pushers. We are the handlers of sensitive information. We are the conveyor belts of policy. We handle the votes, we re-write bills, and we foreclose on your house. We don’t like you or your goddamn freedom at all. We are the reason gays can’t marry. We are the reason marijuana will never be legalized. We were the reason for this. Want to know how? I’ll let you in on a little secret; politicians are pill-popping suit dummies who don’t read what they are signing. Don’t believe me? Just keep watching the news. I think I’ll have all the tea in China banned in a trade embargo. That’s it. No more green tea. It will be surprisingly easy to blame this all on China, too. I also write politicians speeches.
Anyway, I should probably get going. My lunch break is only 25 minutes and I already spent 15 talking to you people. I’m eating shrimp flavored cup-n-noodles. The doctor says my weight problem is adding unnecessary stress to my heart, so I’m more likely to suffer a heart attack. But it’s not like my celibate wife or fag son will miss me when I’m gone. I wish my heart would explode. Right there at the dinner table. I’d sit down, say “meatloaf again?”, lean back and let my chest burst open. Cover my family with black, dark gore, just as the evening news comes on. That’s how I want to go.
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