Peace = Death

Ever since I can remember, I've always had an allergic reaction to peace and stability. Peace and stability are often considered to be a good thing, if you believe the financial and political pundits of our age. They are likened to a placid lake of harmony that nurtures growth and cohesion. They form a gentle breeze that carries all boats towards the horizons of prosperity and goodwill. As I am writing this, I have already thrown up slightly into my mouth and have swallowed it back down. I can feel the acid sear away the lining of my esophagus, much like an inquisitor would pour boiling oil over the naked flesh of a strapped-down heretic.

In my view of the world (--and believe me, I have viewed every dark pit this world has to offer), peace and stability form a recessive gene that pops up in our history every now and again. It does nothing but dull the minds of the masses. It turns drive and determination into a complacent jar of sheepish goo. We are currently in the middle of one of those periods.

Recently, the office has grown docile. My job is to remind people of their own true potential. That potential is best expressed through conflict (aka instability, aka office wars)---the normal state of our world--the way the world should be. My job is to provide the tools that enable people to break free from the chains of monotony and complacency. This is the reason a case of these is on the way to the office:


Live your dreams, my friend.