If Life Were A Song.

Snobs. snobs. snobs. I work with insufferable and crashing snobs. Which would be fine if there was anything to back it up. Anything. But there is nothing besides being done in by a Wednesday NYT crossword puzzle and making a spectacle of it at that. Today I saw boy-wonder wrestling with the LA Times puzzle of all things, and tomorrow I'm pretty sure we'll be down to crayons and finger paints on legal paper. And they're all snobs.

Around 10:00 a.m. it became fashionable to pass judgment on the occupiers, and they really dig how they "captured" the ironic transitive verb tense of "occupied" and weaved it into a witty barb. I'm only guessing about the verb tense, but it seriously started to bug.

Office Jesus made a comment about being "occupied" in traffic, and whether someone was late for work, then he did it again. Then again. It went on and on and like the time he tried to share his M&Ms and no one wanted any, he just wouldn't give up. Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't be better if someone just took him out back and shot him.

The ass clown who looks like he should be wearing clown shoes moos on about a lack of a cohesive message and I'm wondering where he picked up the phrase "cohesive message" because it certainly wasn't from his wrestlings with the crossword.

It doesn't matter what the OWS movement does at this point. They irritate my coworkers which peevishly is enough for me.