Total Drek

Or, the thoughts of several frustrated intellectuals on Sociology, Gaming, Science, Politics, Science Fiction, Religion, and whatever the hell else strikes their fancy. There is absolutely no reason why you should read this blog. None. Seriously. Go hit your back button. It's up in the upper left-hand corner of your browser... it says "Back." Don't say we didn't warn you.

Thursday, December 28, 2006


Sometimes I think I work for the best cover of all times for an international crime organisation, like the ones you see in James Bond movies. It's all a little too politically correct, and people really enjoy enforcing the dress code. Moreover two of the main figures in the organisation are (non-medical) Doctors; they have faintly unlikely, decidedly foreign names, and somewhat bizarre mannerisms. There is a sprinkle of both dangerous and jaded blondes and sweet, innocent brunettes. There are two whole floors where no one ever goes and for which we have only the most general description available - the perfect place for a secret control room with a giant communications screen through which to threaten cowering world leaders.

Sadly, however, my employer is, in fact, entirely upright and non-criminal, not to mention a tad humourless. The desks are just desks, and there is no shark pool, though there is a vague attempt at a gym room. My job is mostly beneficial to the universe, in a small way, and my colleagues do not know how to operate nuclear submarines. My boss is nice, genuinly religious, and quietly unglamourous. And even if there were a giant screen somewhere, the Dr. in charge's son would probably be playing playstation on it.

Don't you hate it when that happens.


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