A herd or phial of scientists has revealed the fruits of ten years research. Apparently it’s a fact that people working long hours in offices, even open plan, are losing brain cells at a greater rate than people working outside, in the open air.
The findings posit that the lack of oxygen atrophies not only grey cells but certain, essential synapses. The most vulnerable synapses are those involved in self-determination, identity and imagination. These three elements of existential presence are all suffering from the atmospheres in these modern factories.
“People in offices are less inclined, even before any half-yearly probation periods are expended, to want to think, and are very lethargic and more likely to plump for cliche and zeitgeist opinion. This condition is due to the over-warm and stuffy atmospheres in offices. The air-conditioning only gives an impression of ‘fresher air’. In actuality, the air in these places is stale and what is required is something of an anathema to modern production factories; namely windows that allow for a real change of air. Also, it would help if the organisms in offices were nurtured to lower their expectations of temperatures, especially now when global warming is providing a natural increase in lowering the temperatures,” one of the scientists told us as if, after ten years, she was glad to talk to anyone after being cooped up in a laboratory for a decade.
XMAS SONGS DROVE ME TO DRINK
Albie Seeingyou, an ordinary man now undergoing painful detox in a lift somewhere near his home in Chipping Sodbury, told reporters how his exposure to dangerously insidious noise over the festive period put him where he is today.
“It took only three days of incessant repeats of those demented, soporific and frivolously drab, existentially naive and disingenuous ditties trawled out to cheer us up at Xmastime. If I hear …IT’S CHRISTMAS! one more time in this lifetime, I’ll not be responsible for my actions,” the fellow related to his next of kin just before he needed sedation.
After his exposure to such musical and existential anomalies for just seventy-two hours – actually fifty-two working hours – he said he needed to drink something, almost anything that would take the torment away. He added during a brief waking moment, “ Anything would do to ease the excruciating sensation of having my heart, soul and cranium trapped and systematically crushed in the seasonally approved vice.”