Accept this symbol of my time spent, and allow me to sleep in this box… Provide me with heat and electricity; I give you my time in turn for a seventy-five degree cube that I may reside within.

I have given my time; allow me this meal. I offer you this symbol.

I have lost faith in the value of the dollar. Gold is merely a soft metal, and diamonds are only worth the blood shed in their harvest.

We work hourly, or have a salary. In turn for our actual time we receive a note… not anything of worth but a symbol of our time and choices, it is composed of cotten and linen, it is a symbol of worth. The dollar denotes the holder’s time and choice. This is by no means arranged upon a standard. One may be born into another’s wealth; one may inherit the spoils of another’s time and choice. This is then no longer a symbol of the holder’s time and choice, but of those before. It is a symbol of time and choice, not of anyone’s in particular, but an essence of time and choice. This is a symbol of worth… I do or do not deserve this. Somebody did and/or does… You and I are somebody, but may or may not deserve a dollar.

I worked in a Dollar Store in Owatonna MN. Everything within the store cost exactly one dollar (+6.5% sales tax in MN… so approx. $1.07 per item). It was called “Dollar Deals.” Many things within the store were not a “deal” despite the dollar price tag. I would call these things “worthless” even though there was certainly time put into their creation.

I could potentially sell nothing over an hour, the store making a profit of $0, and I would make $7. I could sell an old senile woman one hundred and fifteen poly-resin sculptures over the time of an hour for $122.48… I would make $7. I probably implemented more good into the essence of existence in the hour that I did next to absolutely nothing.

I got paid on the hour.

I would spend this money on cigarettes, and coffee.

I killed myself on the hour.

Two packs of cigarettes costs one hour of a high schooler’s time.

A cigarette costs 1.5 minutes, and takes 5–10 minutes to smoke. It then supposedly takes the same amount of time off your life expectancy (being 5–10 minutes).

It costs 1.5 minutes to receive 5–10 minutes of nicotine.

It costs 1.5 minutes to take 5–10 minutes off of you life.

One minute is worth about 12 cents.

It costs 12 cents to loose a potential 60–120 cents.

If a high schooler’s time is worth $7/h, one cigarette – forth dimensionally – costs approx. 72–132 cents.

If a high schooler’s time is worth $7/h, a pack of cigarettes – forth dimensionally – costs $14.40–$26.40.


TheGrza said...

Listen, my client is an artist. You know that, that's why you want him. You just have to understand the subtext, the nuance of his position here. Of course, he sees your generous offer, no, no we're not writing it off as mere cotten or mere linen. Again, he wasn't talking to you, or comparing a very reasonable offer, yes, it is, a reasonable offer to blood diamonds. You're a Fortune 500 firm, no one would confuse you with the Congalese rebels, or anyone of remotely african descent for that matter. If you notice, in his statement, he tacitly admitted that money has value, important for our discussions today, the mathematics of a high school cigarette? You have to admit that was pretty neat. No, the fourth dimension thing, I don't know what that was either, but that's an artist, that's what you're paying for right there, he's weird, he thinks of things you didn't. Oh, I'm sure you could have if you wanted to- You know what, you seem salty about this whole deal. Why don't we part ways, we'll shake hands and move on and I'll take Eric to some other design firms?

Oh. I see. Well, as reasonable and generous as your offer is, it clearly wasn't enough to differentiate between the other middling pieces of paper that he's thrown away like refuse. He's a very talented man, I don't need to tell you that, but his quirks and foibles and more importantly his ethics and ideals are something you're going to have to live with and again, more importantly, buy. I've written a number down on this sheet of paper. I know Mr. Carlson very well...as well as one can know such an enigma, but this part of his life I know and I think this number will bring about an epiphany toward your organization. I can't say that, no I won't give you any assurances on the part of content. Dead businessmen, their skulls on pikes, anarchy, dead cops, pre-civilization primitivism, these are his forms that he works with. Can we convince him to turn them around, maybe a touch of sadness as the rivers run red with blood, who knows, not an issue right now. I will say, you dictating what he can and cannot draw before you're even willing to make a worthwhile offer, it will probably rub him wrong. No, he isn't just sitting there, staring, he's taking all of this in, in his own way, well, your individual words aren't really meaningful, he's more enjoying the entire emotional palate that's swirling around here and if he doesn't feel like exerting a little indignation, well, sirs, that's what he pays me for. My client will not sit here and take your insults or your petty offers. I think the number on this sheet is about to change or even disappear sirs, if you will not apologize to my client, and by my client I mean to me, because it is through my grace that I would pass it along. I accept. Please, take a look at our figure, let's all be adults about this.

I'm sorry to interrupt, I don't want a song and dance about your budget or who you have to pass this by. A yes or a no works fine for us, a signature works even better.

Thank you, I'm sure he'll be very pleased. Yes, thanks again. Alright, Bobby, have a good day. Nice seeing you again, Nice meeting you folks, Ron? Nice meeting you, Ron. Not this weekend, but the weekend after, we'll probably get the last of them signed, don't worry, he'll sign. If I have anything to say about it, he'll sign. I am sorry about him, before, it was a little creepy. It's a savant thing, he'll rambles off a poem about the dollar bill, something very apocalyptic, add some weird math problem, and then just stares at the wall for a while. You just have to either continue what you're doing, or wait for him. No, but it's like a catatonic. I honestly think, and this is between you and me, I'm on the line for this contact too and I'm not about to piss off my healthy 15%, but I honestly think it's a put on, I think he just stares because he doesn't want anyone to respond, if you watched close, he blinked a few times. I always have to stifle a laugh when I see these suits, what am I talking about, I'm a suit now, these suits, but when I see some business man who stays pretty much in his business corporate environment and he's trying to negotiate with me while making wary sidelong glances at the Jeremiah freak staring into the 80's knockoff landscapes inoffensively poisoning the boardroom. I really have to get going, but those papers, yes, by the seventh, I know. Goodbye, and gentlemen, you won't be sorry.

ETC said...


ETC said...

on a different note...


madam tyrant said...

What is comment moderation? And that rating website is whack. They won't even let you vote a whole bunch of times so that you can screw all that cheesy shit up. So why didn't any body like the skull with the laser-beam eyes? Was i just under the impression that you were some great artist and you're really not? I guess the public has spoken right? I'm very confused, I don't think we should hang out for a while...

madam tyrant said...

Why won't you approve my comment you stupid puss-drinking, pillow-biting, scab-eating moderator?