When I arrive at work I have a choice: juseful or useless.

I always choose useless.

I’m not looking for pats on the back, but it makes me feel good inside.

Being useless is the best way to spend the day. The blood starts racing to my mid-section everytime I stand between a person and their definition of success. It gives me an erectile rush that I like to augment with barbituates. What an exhilarating rush, especially when I turn around and see their self-esteem flee their body like a ghost in an 80s cartoon.

When the day ends, I seek out the person to nonchalantly rub it in. I take advantage of the inanity that makes it easy to bob my way to the top of the corporate ladder.

Will this help me live longer? Quite possibly. The entrails of my victims sustain and vigorate me. Does it keep me in shape? Probably not. Many of my victims are fatties.

Do I feel good? No question.

I’ll take useless over useful any day. See you in the hallway.