Dark side weekend

I have brought work home for the weekend, but I am not going to do it. I am going to sleep. I am going to sprawl across my bed like a beached whale, sunning myself in the stray rays of light that stream through my bedroom window, snoring until the walls themselves reverberate with subsonics that will make grown men tear the ears from the sides of their heads and cry for their mothers. I will be Sloth personfied, sinking deeper into the archetype than I have ever done before, rising only to empty my bladder. No amount of cat walking on my face or dog barking from the kitchen will rouse me from my holy state of slumber. No amount of MSG-laden dim sum will tempt me away from the embrace of the duvet. There is nothing on television that interests me any longer. I have watched all the DVDs I care to. Books can wait. I shall burrow into the dreamlands, where my mind will explore the darkest corners of my own subconscious. If perchance, I find the Dream King, I will kick him in the balls and laugh as my boots do a tattoo of destruction on his pasty white face for interrupting my quest. For deep in there I know I shall find every one I have ever hated in my life and, supreme in oneironistic power, I will take control. My retribution will be slow, and patient, and unhindered by petty human moral concerns.

And I will smile.

Pressure can work

( ES&S to introduce voting machine that produces paper trail. )