Whatever this thing is, it’s intelligent and it’s not afraid to kill its loved ones for food…
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I’m not suggesting we cover the Earth in six inches of concrete, build a few oxygen generators and eat nothing but discarded skin. I’m just saying that if we want to avoid the weirdness this planet keeps throwing at us it’d be a good start.
This thing looks like it was the inspiration for John Carpenter’s “The Thing” and most, if not all, of the CGI in “Men In Black” only, instead of cartoons vomiting and/or exploding all over Tommy Lee Jones’ credibility as an actor, this thing is sitting in the middle of a Spanish road eating one of its own.
And I’m using the word “thing” on purpose. The fucking thing looks like an insect, it even moves a little like an insect, but I swear to Christ that thing is intelligent enough to know those cars whipping past aren’t a threat. It’s walking on two freaking legs with its buddies head in its freaking mouth. Something that fucking insane looking isn’t supposed to exist outside of a LucusFilm computer.
I’m totally fucking serious, you see something like this crawling around your neighbourhood and you start thinking “where’s the fucking government? Where are the people who are supposed to be doing something?” What is wrong with Europe that something like this makes sense? It’s four inches long… it’s four inches long, it’s intelligent, it looks like it looks and it has its friends head in its mouth. Seriously… there have been some pretty good reasons to do it in the past, but it’s finally time now to cover Europe in concrete.
Working on any other level than the tippy-top one at a public relations makes you a red shirt. If you’re not willing to put in eighty hours a week, every week, on inane project after depressingly inane project you’ll have a short, yet spectacularly violent life as a stress toy for the True Believers. In fact, if you’re not willing to hand over your nut sack to the first Project Manager who asks for it then you might as well shove a gun in your mouth and pull the trigger because that’s how useless you are… as useless as a bloodied corpse on the desktop of strategic vision.
So you start to find little ways of relieving the pressure. Like when you’re a waiter and the stooge gives you grief so you put your finger down your pants, give your dick a scratch then put your finger in their mashed potatoes. Except in Public Relations you replace “mashed potatoes” with shaking your clients hand. Or, maybe, you take your firms strategy for Client Media Training and accidentally email it to “others”. Or, maybe, you set fire to the building after you’ve gutted the harddrives of anything you can sell.
I can’t remember where I “Saved As” this, but if you can feel free to let me know so I can put some kind of mark on and/or around it. I think the moral of the story is addictions are private and if I wanted mine to be public I’d puke on your girlfriend when she finished cleaning up after we had sex…. because nothing gets that smell out, and when you got close to her you’d just know. If you’re interested in finding out who created this drawing please feel free to “Save As”, print it off and paste it around your neighbourhood.
