JO = CO

Tonight I have come to the conclusion that jobs, like carbon monoxide, are odourless, colourless killers. As I type to you via the backlit moonlight of my electronic leash, I can't help help but think that, like CO, jobs should have alarms installed to alert you to when the toxicity levels have reached life threatening.

"Eglington this stop. Eglington."

Tomorrow, is a new day and a new week but by 10am someone at the office will cast the first stone in a long line of empty threats that, with player piano like repetition, will resemble the laundry list of complaints from the week before and the week before and the week before. The sad thing is as aware of it as I am, I am more an active particpant than self righteous observer. The latter at least carries some degree of elitest cache.

"Scarborough this stop. Scarborough."

I think to equip people with an appreciation of art, beauty, tragedy, irony; to create a people capable of painting the mona lisa, flying ships to the stars, capable of infinite genius and kindness; to arm them with emotion and then subject to the soul destryoing monotiny of a task oriented lifestyle is a kin to cruel and unusual punishment.

"Danforth this stop. Danforth."

As we look back on the medival days of torture and ask ourselves how man could be capable of such inhumanity, I think the future will similarly look back at this "modern age" not as the dot com inspired, self-proclaimed, renaissance but as an era that had no respect for purpose. A people that were not forcibly enslaved but even more tragically were willing participants baited by big screen tvs, $100 shoes and the promise of bigger screen tvs and $300 shoes.

"Union this stop. Union?"