You know who’s the man? Math. Math, always one right answer, columns, sheets, secret codes trapping us, forcing us to draw perfect angles. Math is hard, mean, strong, oppressive, everywhere. Fuck the man. Fuck math.
And you know who else is the man? Yeah, the electric company. Oh, hey, here’s a bunch of great stuff, oh, yeah, by the way, you can only use it if you have electricity. Yeah, the whole steam industry, all your steam-powered shavers and steam-powered steamers, none of that works now. Fuck the man. Fuck the electric company.
And while we’re at it: motorcyclists, Winter, Taylor Swift, streetsweepers, Gulden’s mustard- guess what, you’re all the man, too. Yeah, that’s right motorcyclists. Didn’t see that coming, did you? Pretending to be rebels but really just intimidating all of us into hiding in big boxy crapfests.
All the other ones should be obvious. Especially the mustard.
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