Mixed nuts and Mojo

Somebody stole my mojo. Swear I had it here a minute ago. Doing things far beyond mortals. Well the difficult was simple. The impossible took a little longer. Motivation can only come with opportunity and the pickens are slim to none. Maybe that's why I've been a procrastinator most of my existence. Why do it today when tomorrow is just as good and it'll keep you busy in the process. Let the overlords sweat the deadlines. I know what I'm doing except there's nothing doing. Just hanging around waiting to become worm food I guess. Hobbies? This is my hobby only it doesn't pay the bills and it never could. That wasn't it's purpose.

To meditate? To contemplate the most esoteric of quantum of thoughts. Enough of that, been there done that. Another cup of coffee another piece of pie oh tell me there's something important to do. Nope let the bridges fall. Let the roads crumble. No remodel. No rebuild. No money in the coffers to pay the hired help. So what, just tell me what those over educated rum stumbling bums are doing in the offices along plush carpeted corridors with their day? Would it be a meeting to decide on a meeting about when to hold the meeting? And don't forget the danish! Emails kill a lot of time. Did ya catch the one about... Or maybe a silly text message, but on second thought better not, it might fall into the wrong hands. Perhaps a tour of the plant would be in order but who wants to get their Armani dirty. That's a duty for an under of underling. Oops staff cuts, the middle of management is gone now but their lack of salary sure made for a good bonus. Forgot about the new CCTVs, so much cheaper than actually being there.

So where's the rest of the nuts you may ask? This was to be more than Mojo. I'm thinkin I'm thinkin. Ah! it comes to me, a study of studies of the spawn of the last generation (That's our former rug rats in case you didn't know) all growd up and causing their own miscreant mischief. With tweets and redits, facebooks, IMs, PMs, Skypes, chats, texts, and every manner of communication know to man short of smoke signals, there they sit staring blank looked at a computer screen with little to nothing to say. And after five minutes of dead silence or more someone will cue up a music video for all to sit and stare some more. Maybe I missed something here. Some secret of secret background language or mode not yet know to the uninformed just waiting to be discovered. Paper notes passed in class were more informative in the day. So I must wonder. Are these the responsible soon to be caregivers of us in our old and feeble days? Sure I'd trust them programming my TV remote but anything else is questionable. But I will say this, they have developed their own standards and for the most part hold to them. Total vulgarity is never permitted but innuendo is fare game. The rites of passage sure got complicated.