drinkdrankdrunk: "Share Your Sparkle" by The Midnight Rider

it is january 2016, and i haven’t written anything since august 2015 . . . i realize that i ended the last paragraph by bragging about how easy my job is, but it’s kinda hard to enjoy your final year when one could be fired for failing to fill out a form or by not attending a corporate webinar--i guess that’s corporate america though . . . during the course of the fall semester, cashpoint laid off all non-essential personnel including the administrative assistants, financial aid staff, admissions staff, librarian, and postmistress . . . their modus operandi usually entailed a tuesday dinner followed by friday layoffs at 5pm pst (and this is iowa) . . . lil hitler (my boss’s secretary) and the sexy grandma (my friend) went in the last round, but lil hitler was so lost that she came into work for another 3 weeks before human resources finally had to tell her not to come in anymore . . . there were rumors of a faculty layoff in november (and i got in trouble for gossiping), but it would seem as if the final 30 professors will make it through until the end (along with roughly 280 students--down 700 from just three years ago) . . . you could say that the final 280 are ripe for the plucking, but that’s another story for another time (like this summer when i’ll have no job and no prospects other than going home and changing my parents’ diapers) . . . anyway, i took copious notes on our faculty workshop this week, so i might as well break it down for you . . . the vice president for academic affairs opened the meeting by announcing that cashpoint had been sold to a real estate company for 1.5 million . . . the vpaa then confessed that he had no idea who the mystery owners were or why the grounds were sold for roughly 18.5 million less than they were worth . . . he said that our offices would need to be cleaned out by the last day of may and that we should “focus on taking care of ourselves and each other” . . . i was itching to ask where i should dump my garbage after cashpoint folded, but i assumed that that would hurt some old lady’s feelings and i held my tongue . . . the public relations officer was next, and he announced that the mission of the finish strong committee (of which i am a member) was to “SHARE OUR SPARKLE until the end”--and his voice was cracking, and there were audible sighs from the crowd . . . the human resources officer was next, and she had some good news for us----the computer lady had gotten a job at a chiropractic office in davenport (good riddance for an ugly tattletale), and the sexy service learning chick had taken a job with a furniture company (she is sexy, but happily-married and a born-again christian, so who gives a shit) . . . for the next 45 minutes, the (cocky) athletic director argued with the born-again christian members of the biology department over make-up testing procedures for lame-duck athletes (whose sole purpose for being here in the spring is to play their respective sports one more season) . . . before the lunch break, the pr director asked me if i would organize a bags/cornhole tournament for the spring--of course i said “yes,” but i was thinking: “what a fine use for my phd” . . . after lunch, the career services lady gave a presentation entitled “backpacks to briefcases”--the suits in kalifornia want us to attend resume workshops in the spring where the faculty will be taught “dinner etiquette” and receive “fashion tutorials” along with other horseshit they think will help us get another job in academia--it was one part tedious and two parts embarrassing . . . after the career services lady (who is dumb-as-a-rock) announced that there would also be “mental health sessions,” lil’ frank burns chimed in that a “session of sexual harassment could be beneficial as well” . . . the faculty forum was next, and we spent roughly 30 minutes on who would replace the toner in the copy machines since all the administrative assistants had been fired--someone-in-the-back suggested that we throw them out the windows in may, but hot lips houlihan reminded the room that the copiers were now the property of the new owners . . . a member of the faculty welfare committee announced that the online adjuncts hated us because they were sure that the campus faculty were in line to steal their jobs . . . he also told a funny story about teaching online and sending his scheduler (the online official that assigns online instructors classes) a christmas card every year even though he hated her guts . . . over the past few months, cashpoint has offered the campus faculty the opportunity to train to teach online--the implication is that we would be hired on as full-time with benefits, but conventional wisdom is that for every one huckster who got a good teaching gig, there would be 100 others working for slave wages . . . roughly 75% of the professors in my college volunteered, but i obviously want to get the fuck out of here . . . the afternoon workshop (a.l.i.c.e training to prevent school shootings) was perhaps the most ridiculous of all, especially since the biggest criminal in the room was the head of campus security--lebrick is a sawed-off, little-prick-of-an-ex-soldier who was on his way to being kicked out of the marine corp for embezzling money from toys-for-tots (for buying, among other things, a purebred hunting dog) before he resigned his commission . . . he was also up-on-charges of sexual harassment for asking the women that he was supposed to be interviewing out on dates . . . like i don’t mind some of the older security guards (hell, we even have “mash” code names to track the deans), but listening to lebrick rattle off the names of school shooters made me realize what a fanboy-waste he truly was (and always remember that the lesson of reno 911 is that cops/criminals are essentially white trash) . . . anyway, after a slideshow of rent-a-cop pinups like adam lanza and seung-hui cho, lebrick broke the faculty into three groups, and we were sent to our respective rooms and told to prepare for an active shooter . . . my group consisted of 5 female professors and 2 male vietnam vets/professors and when the “lockdown” command came over the walkie-talkie, the two vets immediately removed their belts and lashed the ends to a table and to the front door . . . and then we waited for over an hour--there were bangs-at-the-door and cries-for-help, but the vietnam vets refused to let any of us move . . . i took out my iphone and tried to videotape the absurdity for posterity (or facebook), but there was ultimately nothing to videotape (except the granny panties of a 54-year-old ed professor) . . . i finally got on the walkie-talkie and announced that “sister butch was the active shooter and that everyone should remain calm” . . . the faculty was supposed to return to the classroom for a debriefing after the final “all clear” was announced, but i waited until orly (the near-sighted-security-guard-who-walks-with-a-limp) turned his back and snuck out through a girls’ dorm . . . in the old days, i would have tried to gank a pair of panties on my way out, but in the winter of my 49th year, i really just wanted to go home and sleep until spring

The Midnight Rider prefers to remain mysterious.  You could visit his website, but he won't say where it is.  You could read his books, but he won't say what they are.  You could email him, but I'm pretty sure spam@gofuckyourself.gov is not a real email address.  In a world where everyone is repping their Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, sex tapes, line of clothing, new microbrew, virus panic vaccine status, and overall brand, I find that refreshing.  I am happy to have The Rider ride on drinkdrankdrunk.