Well Apparently the MTA is a 2 Bird 1 Blog reader. Ever since my last post, I’ve been seeing the English version of the Man Clinging to the Outside of the Train PSA poster everywhere.
Now normally I would go into a rant about how I don’t want to live in a world where I have to work everyday at this god-awful job with bitchy old women who remember where they hid during the attacks of the French and Indian War, only to have tax dollars stolen from my paycheck to pay for pointless PSAs like this. However, 2B1B reader Lovely Laura has been doing her research and found this little gem: http://www.nytimes.com/2007/10/17/nyregion/17surfing.html
This New York Times article says that a homeless man died in 2007 when he clung to the side of a subway car and was “shorn from it’s side” when going through a tunnel. Shorn from it’s side. That is poetry. According to this article there was a surge of “Subway Surfing” in the 90’s. At its peak (almost 20 years ago) an estimated 12 people died each year of clinging to the side of subway cars. Well suck me sideways! 12 people. In the 90’s. Please! Take my tax dollars to fix this problem! And while you’re at it, make more PSA posters reminding passengers that breathing will keep you alive and blinking will keep your eyes moist. Siiiighhhh…these posters are crushing my soul.
In other continuing news, as acting President of E.M.O. (the End Meek Offensive,) I’ve been making progress studying The Meek. I’ve learned that The Meek is one of the hardest working animals in the forest. Seriously. The Meek is consistently doing work. Now don’t get me wrong, I have a good work ethic (she says as she updates her blog/gchats/ignores her office email/listens to her ipod while half of the art department is out). I get a lot done in the day and I work a long day, but I have to layer my hard work with some solid assin’ around. So if I layout a particularly hard section of the magazine, I’ll wikipedia Saved By The Bell and make snowflakes out of the pages of my 401K informational catalogue until I’ve mellowed out. Then and only then, I will go back to work. Not the Meek. The Meek takes a continual approach to work, going from one task to the other. In instances when The Meek doesn’t have any work to do, The Meek turns to our magazine’s website to study as much as the creature can about our brand. If the drought continues past 15 minutes, The Meek seeks work from her supervisor. I must find out what super DNA strand The Meek carries that makes her able to work continuously. If I don’t have my assin’ around time, my brain would melt and I would ride the subway home clinging to the exterior (see what I did there?). Maybe the kerchief that The Meek always wears is the secret to her productivity? She got a new one:
Look in The Meek’s eyes. Look at her looking at me with a look of arrogance and disgust. Does the Meek think she’s better than me just because she works diligently in her cubicle, decorated only with 5 different dictionaries and blank walls, whereas I’m frequently seen making snowflakes out of important documents in my cubicle adorned with a giant Gossip Girl poster?
Whatever Meek. You and your birthing hips can get in line to kiss my ass. Right behind the MTA’s PSA department.
Sha la la!