We the working peeps always have to adjust to conditions on the ground, as they happen. The “news" doesn’t always match up with real life. Here’s some old “news" from my neighborhood: many good jobs disappeared. Some folks ain’t working 'cause there ain’t work. Others found crap work and live check to check.
But, ya know, even in so-called good times, at good jobs, hardly anyone “gets ahead" in life without sacrificing all slack time and therefore their sanity. Make more, spend more. Work your butt off, or do as little as possible, and end up with nothing. No fault of governments or gods, just Life. So, why bother?
Why bother indeed? The simplest adjustment to broken dreams and mass unemployment is Slack. Voluntary Poverty. Drop Out. Give Up. Who Cares?
This attitude removes all stress at once. Relax and commit to Slack. It’s not always easy; unsteady oft unsafe part-time low-wage toil, no medicine, no more full purse or “eating out.” Working Slackers must learn the delicate work/slack balance and do just enough to keep the job. No worries, the bonus is the extra slacking at home now.
Home Slack means avoiding housework, cooking, laundry, and “yard work.” If you don’t like filth, ease into it slowly, naturally: first day, your clothes don’t smell awful yet, the house ain’t too messy, and your kitchen ‘strike’ is like a new diet. Stick with it! By the time the house is piled with refuse, reeking of armpit, sour pudding, and pets, on your ninth day of peanut butter sandwiches, you will hardly notice.
The payoff is well worth it. Hours of slack time, to dream, read, play, sing, hang out, love, think, pray, dance, and fondle yourself. None of these cost a penny. Slack parenting is better too; “quality time beats quantity time” has always been a guilt-reducing lie for too-busy parents.
Our Cavepeople ancestors worked about 25 hours a week, say anthropologists; that sounds about right. If you can’t afford to quit working, you prob’ly have too many bills and doodads. Dump your car, phone, and everything else you think you need which our ancestors didn’t for 90,000 years. Scam a free room from a relative or friend in return for housework or babysitting. Eat whatever comes along, or not at all; hunger ain’t as bad as folks make it out to be. When you get hurt or sick, you’ll either get well or not. Pain is only pain. Death is part of life. Your funeral costs ain’t your problem once dead, and you’ll never have to work again! Eternal Slack!
If you lose your job, be grateful. The ladder of success is leaning on a crumbling wall anyway. Lower your sights, forget about goals, just relax and be happy with whatever you got left even if it ain’t much. Volunteer somewhere if yr bored at home or hungry. (Service organizations and churches always serve snacks!)
If you haven’t lost your job, quit, or ask for a demotion. We can have everything we want, right now; all we have to do is quit wanting so much. Anyone happy with what they have has entered the only heaven we will ever know.
The Slack Life is a good life once you settle in. No more running around, beating yourself up in endless circles. No more crap worship, no fussing with worthless stuff. More time with the people you love, doing what you want to do, whenever you want, free!
So why wait? Commit to Slack now, and forever live in peace!
A proposal: Nationwide Slack Days. Starting now, every worker take one bogus sick day per month, to do nothing. No dues to pay, no club to join, just call in sick. No official date: if we all pick different days, the Owners may never catch on.
“Bonnie’s heart sank when she considered the horror of the lives that most men led, trapped for nine ten hours a day in the slave gangs of traffic, the uniformed peonage—suit and tie and digital wristwatch—of the office galleys, the nerve-wracking drudgery of the on-going never-ceasing destruction and reconstruction, backhoes, front-end loaders, jackhammers, wrecking balls, freight trucks, nailguns, concrete culverts, asbestos insulation, I-beams, hardware, software, application forms, medical claim forms, auto insurance forms, income tax forms, garbage, mud, dust, sludge, whole monoclines of paper and anticlines of carbon (press hard) and synclines of silent despair. The world of “jobs.”
“...And not only the men. Progress proceeds. Now the women too, driven by need or madness or by simple greed, were plunging into the same nightmare world, unsexed by unisex, becoming office-persons, waitpersons, chairpersons, cowpersons, truck driverpersons, coal minerpersons, machine-gunnerpersons. With their children abandoned all day five days a week in pink and blue Day-Glo Tee-Vee Jailhouse Kiddie Kare storage centers. That is, if the women were lucky enough to be able to afford it. Those mothers, that is, who had their “jobs.” The cruelty of it sickened her.”
--Edward Abbey, from Hayduke Lives!
(NATURE IS SEXIST!)
The fight for the right to party is real, people! And critical:
If you can’t party, what good is freedom of speech n stuff?
Huila swallowed. It made her feel terribly sad. “Will I like being dead?” she asked.
Teresita opened her eyes.
“Did you enjoy being alive?”
Huila thought about it.
“Yes,” she said.
“Then,” Teresita said, “you will enjoy your death.”
--from The Hummingbird’s Daughter by Luis Alberto Urrea, p.337