People who work in cubicles have too much time to think, the lazy bastards. No one wakes up in the morning and says "Thank god my life is insulated by penetratable, fabric covered styraphome. Thank. God." So they sit around, work, look at the brown-grey godawful walls, and they think. They think of new things to do, whys, whens . . . They decide it
(
Read more... )