Issue 7, Winter/Spring 2009

We Piddle Along (for Joseph Mosconi) by Stan Apps

Somebody's got to give everyone jobs.
Let's hear it for Somebody! Three Cheers!
Somebody's got to realize that the lazy man deserves respect!
And the lazy woman needs a relaxing place to wait to get paid!
Somebody's got to recognize all the Somebodies out there!
It's the usual self-interest, raised to a higher power!
And Three Cheers for that! It's about damn time!
It's about damn time and it's past time
And the time just keeps on coming round again!
The lazy man needs a shovel to lean on
So he won't fall down if he falls asleep standing up!
I'm tired of all this right-wing big-ball-of-baloney!
There's a very advanced person sitting in a cubicle,
A person of indeterminate age and indifferent gender
And s/he is drowsy, hir head is falling softly on
The keys on hir big old cuddly keyboard
And the weight of hir cheek is spelling out the word nnh,
And a little drool is pooling out, into the gap between "k" and "l".
Somebody needs to be paid good money for this!
S/he could be home in a soft large bed being cuddled
Or s/he could be home in a soft large bed being stroked
Or s/he could be home in a soft large bed being sat on,
And all the wonderful furious things of home and bed are denied hir.
S/he has just got to be appropriately rewarded!
Men, women, and things have got to be given jobs and well paid
And left alone—no more workplace harassment!
Bosses may speak in only the quietest, most wheedling tones!
Every boss must get a PhD in Begging and Eloquence
So that s/he will have the skills s/he needs
To convince one worker to lift one piddly finger
And stroke one key
To activate the automated system
To make the future happen by itself
As we always dreamed
And every human being must have a calm lucrative job watching it
And waving and smiling at the business of the world as it gets done.
The hyperactive people, their scalps crawling with supplemental robots
Shall be paid no more nor less than any other human being
As they hurry through the valley of the indolent with steely hands
Smashing every flower that does not yield medicine
And checking every teat for milk.
The lazy shall beam forth from the sunny valley
Full of armchairs, couches and recliners.
In hir workspace ergonomic as a crib
The laborer of the future shall do time
Like a prisoner awaiting the end of the four-hour day:
4 idle and eternal hours
In which fits of sporadic labor punctuate the tedium:
Somebody will get something done just to have something to do.