The End of Existence
I'm sitting in a work meeting ("CPMS"). We're into the second hour now. Random people are talking to each other. The manager is playing with his phone. The meeting, as usual, enlightens nothing. I eagerly await my return to banishment at my desk. Emily put in her notice today. I can understand why. I go to Fancy Farm this weekend to watch people who make far more than I do fight over my vote. I rendered this artwork just now while in the meeting. I wish I were finger-banging Mrs. Moffit right now. I'm dyin' here.