R S Prasanna

Spam that tries to be literature.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

The Job Hunt and the Hunted

Who's to blame, brother?

When it is known that there is no free lunch, no easy way to earn our money?

Who's to blame when we took the cushy Software job which we hated to the core? We joked about how all we ever did was paste codes googled from the godown of the Internet while our pay packets ballooned faster than the poisonous fat around our waists?

'Who cares for tomorrow, I have a Life now,' i remember sayin, guzzling the wines of heaven, for a few thousand bucks at the dingiest bar in the most uppity up restaurant in the stinking night of the dark City.

Who's to blame brother? We rejoiced hard, didn't we?

Maybe we should have worked hard too.

Obama has come, not to worry. he will take care of us all.

Ha ha.

We still haven't grown up, have we, brother?

Obama's milk will once run dry. Let's stop suckling and take to finding food ourself, for a change, eh, brother?

But then, who's to blame?

I know who's to blame, brother.

I didn't know till yesterday. But I know now.

There's no free lunch brother.

Maybe we should have stuck to drawing.

We were good at it, weren't we?


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