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Careening over : the cliff toward the bitter : dark of depression

I’ve got something going on at work which will be occupying a good portion of my time, and unfortunately, probably most of my thoughts for the foreseeable future.  I alternate between being angry, bitter, and depressed and it is taking most of my energy to put it aside long enough to do the bits and pieces I’m still getting done.  I really, really want to vent about it, but can’t.  I’ve managed through the years to talk about work in an oblique fashion in order to maintain a certain plausible deniability and I’m not quite ready to give that up.  Not yet, anyway.

In the mean time, what I can say is that you can’t prove to a true believer that space aliens don’t exist.  You can show that there’s no proof they do exist.  You can show that it is unlikely that they exist, but, because of the scale of the area (the universe) that they might exist in, you can’t prove they don’t exist.  The problem with true believers is that they are sure that evidence does exist, somewhere.  The harder you try to show them that space aliens don’t exist, the more likely they will assume that you are part of, or have been co-opted by, the vast conspiracy to suppress the evidence.

In a bizarre way, my problem at work is, in a certain sense, very much like the “non-existence of aliens” problem.  And, now that I’ve re-read this, it occurs to me that I’ve said both too much and not enough about it and should probably just delete the whole thing.  But, I’m not going to.  There is a part of me that wants to spill the whole thing, piss off the powers that be and force them to put me out of my misery.  But, I’m not going to do that, either.

Instead of indulging myself like this and subjecting my 4 loyal readers to this sort of drivel, I should probably just concentrate on Global Warming Wear, since I may have found an artist willing to work for cheap who isn’t an animal rights activist with no sense of humor.

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