Math for Monkeys

I sat at my desk, listening to two bullshit jockeys distract each other from working.

“I don’t understand people these days, they want to find a medication for every problem. Like, Attention Deficit whatever…what a crock of shit. Someone not paying attention is called poor discipline.”

The other brings his shoulders up towards the face he’s built up a fart-clenching grimace across.

“Well, actually I take medications for A.D.D. I can tell you, without them I have a hard time even focusing on a conversation like this.”

The first fends off the social disaster, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

“No, no, no,” the other forgives, “I agree about some of the other things they try and make disorders. Like Oppositional Defiant Dis-blahblah. That’s just a kid who needs a swat on the ass.”

The first guy gets to look uncomfortable now. 

“Actually my nephew has that and it’s no joke.”

“Yeah, yeah,” other guys practices backstroke, “in some cases sure, but generally speaking…”

I plug in my headphones. I’ve never heard society argue with itself before; it feels like the soundtrack to a migraine and the inspiration for a heart attack.

The secretary brings sanity back: “Can you two shut the hell up?”

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