The Press Room
Day 4,776, 04:13
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Published in USA 
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by
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by Wilker Nath
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QuJroujjYDk
The mood of the day is steel guitar.
I'm sorry.
Wait, no I'm not.
It had been another day of sitting on the couch, enjoying NEET life enabled by government handouts combined with a cushy WHPR-staff pension. It had been Wilker's third consecutive day wearing pajamas. He flipped through the TV channels, stopping briefly at eNPR hosting a discussion about something the executive did. Like a deadhead sticker on a Cadillac, it gave Wilker pause, remembering all of his time serving the country.
His life had become stale lately. He wasn't doing much of anything. He was useless anymore; more than useless because of all the handouts he took. He should be there. He should be helping in some way! In his current state, he was much less than he once was.
But that would require commitment. That, unfortunately, was something he just could not muster at the moment.
He flipped the TV to a different channel, resolving not to think about it. After he did, though, a stray thought crossed his mind. He got up off the couch and propelled himself to his nightstand, where he kept a lockbox containing the usual daily contents of his pockets. He keyed in the combination, and opened it. Inside, among other things, was the Whitehouse-issued ID-card that served as an electronic key to nearly all the doors in the building that WHPR staff were deemed to need.
Drama about leaks and potential leaks came every other month these days. If he didn't return this damn thing soon, he was bound to be accused of some stupid thing at some point. Frankly, he was surprised no one came around to take it away already.
He sighed, and resigned himself to needing to do something tomorrow.
The next day, he actually got showered and dressed in business attire. He had forgotten what real clothes felt like.
Stepping out of the front door and getting into his car, he double checked he had everything he needed, and then drove off.
Theforum's Executive board Whitehouse, though, was empty when he got there. There was no security at the front door. There was nobody at the daily press briefing podium outside. The Press briefing board gigantic telecommunications screens capable of broadcasting the President's face and voice all through DC were set to static.
Huh, this was weird.
With unease, he keyed himself into the building through the staff entrance. The lights were off in the hallway, something that had never happened once in the time he was there. He had to use his phone's flashlight and look around to find the right light switch.
"Hello?" He called out. There was no answer. The corners of the hallway were filled with cobwebs. With curiosity and resolve, Wilker pushed into thePDB board private executive offices hallway.
The lights in here likewise were unlit, and the corners were likewise filled with cobwebs and dust. Wilker stepped through the hallway.
"Hello? Anyone here? I came to return my keycard!" Silence surrounded him. He never thought he would see this place empty in his life, it was the most eerie and desolate feeling.
And then, he heard a rustling! He froze in his tracks. The sound came again. Carefully listening, he identified which door it was coming from The WHPR staff room! He opened it and turned on the lights, but the room was empty. Then, the sound came again, louder this time. It was coming from...
THE SLAVE OFFICE! PAUL! Quickly, Wilker rushed over to a long-since-crepitating door in the back of the room, and spun the combination into the manual lock on the handle. With a rush of speed, he burst inside and saw only a skeleton sitting in an uncushioned rolly chair with its leg chained to a desk piled high with paperwork. Nobody had remembered to feed Paul. He was now dead, and his meat was inside the stomachs of the rats who were scurrying to all corners, shocked by Wilker's entrance.
He slowly approached Paul's body, and then turned to look at the desk. There were mounds of paperwork, pages upon pages of it, he flipped through a good number of them. Every single paper was properly filled out. Even starving and in his dying moments, Paul was diligent enough to finish his tasks.
He looked the skeleton in its empty eye sockets, but then remembered this was Paul he was thinking about. He slapped it, and the skull fell off of the flimsy spine. Fuck Paul.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2PqfDyPAcBw
Only one of us is good-looking now, Paul
But in all seriousness, I'm curious why the current admin is neglecting the PDB board so much. You guys didn't even bother to switch access over.
I'd also ask why party politics were brought into a traditionally non-partisan branch of government with the blocking of an entire party from the exec, but I don't think I'd get a meaningful answer.
Stay jazzy!
o>
The mood of the day is steel guitar.
I'm sorry.
Wait, no I'm not.
It had been another day of sitting on the couch, enjoying NEET life enabled by government handouts combined with a cushy WHPR-staff pension. It had been Wilker's third consecutive day wearing pajamas. He flipped through the TV channels, stopping briefly at eNPR hosting a discussion about something the executive did. Like a deadhead sticker on a Cadillac, it gave Wilker pause, remembering all of his time serving the country.
His life had become stale lately. He wasn't doing much of anything. He was useless anymore; more than useless because of all the handouts he took. He should be there. He should be helping in some way! In his current state, he was much less than he once was.
But that would require commitment. That, unfortunately, was something he just could not muster at the moment.
He flipped the TV to a different channel, resolving not to think about it. After he did, though, a stray thought crossed his mind. He got up off the couch and propelled himself to his nightstand, where he kept a lockbox containing the usual daily contents of his pockets. He keyed in the combination, and opened it. Inside, among other things, was the Whitehouse-issued ID-card that served as an electronic key to nearly all the doors in the building that WHPR staff were deemed to need.
Drama about leaks and potential leaks came every other month these days. If he didn't return this damn thing soon, he was bound to be accused of some stupid thing at some point. Frankly, he was surprised no one came around to take it away already.
He sighed, and resigned himself to needing to do something tomorrow.
The next day, he actually got showered and dressed in business attire. He had forgotten what real clothes felt like.
Stepping out of the front door and getting into his car, he double checked he had everything he needed, and then drove off.
The
Huh, this was weird.
With unease, he keyed himself into the building through the staff entrance. The lights were off in the hallway, something that had never happened once in the time he was there. He had to use his phone's flashlight and look around to find the right light switch.
"Hello?" He called out. There was no answer. The corners of the hallway were filled with cobwebs. With curiosity and resolve, Wilker pushed into the
The lights in here likewise were unlit, and the corners were likewise filled with cobwebs and dust. Wilker stepped through the hallway.
"Hello? Anyone here? I came to return my keycard!" Silence surrounded him. He never thought he would see this place empty in his life, it was the most eerie and desolate feeling.
And then, he heard a rustling! He froze in his tracks. The sound came again. Carefully listening, he identified which door it was coming from The WHPR staff room! He opened it and turned on the lights, but the room was empty. Then, the sound came again, louder this time. It was coming from...
THE SLAVE OFFICE! PAUL! Quickly, Wilker rushed over to a long-since-crepitating door in the back of the room, and spun the combination into the manual lock on the handle. With a rush of speed, he burst inside and saw only a skeleton sitting in an uncushioned rolly chair with its leg chained to a desk piled high with paperwork. Nobody had remembered to feed Paul. He was now dead, and his meat was inside the stomachs of the rats who were scurrying to all corners, shocked by Wilker's entrance.
He slowly approached Paul's body, and then turned to look at the desk. There were mounds of paperwork, pages upon pages of it, he flipped through a good number of them. Every single paper was properly filled out. Even starving and in his dying moments, Paul was diligent enough to finish his tasks.
He looked the skeleton in its empty eye sockets, but then remembered this was Paul he was thinking about. He slapped it, and the skull fell off of the flimsy spine. Fuck Paul.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2PqfDyPAcBw
Only one of us is good-looking now, Paul
But in all seriousness, I'm curious why the current admin is neglecting the PDB board so much. You guys didn't even bother to switch access over.
Stay jazzy!
o>
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Comments
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[removed]
Yo Wilker, you need help with that interview, peasant?
CG was Potus before without forum access.
That's another proof that the PIG DIGUSTING PRIVATE eUS FORUM IS NOT NEEDED in order to play the game, even when you are the top executive!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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NO GODS
NO RULES
NO MASTERS
NO SLAVES
lol
You are an idiot if this is the best you can comment
I D I O T ! ! !
the idiot is the one keeping this article in the top 5 for me 😛
🙁
Feds are 💩 worth!
I have never cared for the forums and despite that I played along with GnilKrapis in trying to revive interest in using the worthless forum. Complete waste of time.
Dump the meta-game and I guarantee the eUS will start recovering from the malaise that has over come the community during the GnilKrapis' imitating M-rick challenge.
George, when you are right, you are right!!
Burn that pig-disgusting elitist idiotic forum to the ground!!!!
tbh them not using the forums doesn't bug me as much as this article would make it seem, I was just bored and had an idea for satire. If they have a way of communicating that works for them, power to em.
I'm more bothered by them bringing partisanship into the exec tbh. The cab is not the place for that. A potus who doesn't actively seek out cab members from all parties isn't a great potus.
We have people from all Party in the cabinet.
apologies Wilker Nath did not actually read just glanced, saw the mention of forums and commented merely on that. On your writing theme centering around the communities execute suits, it comes across very partisan and exclusive, Not that I consider that your fault but more to whom you seem to be writing to imho.
"Party" as in one??? @baby groot
fair enough trite, I do usually write with the regulars of the "exec club" as my target audience, whether I realize it or not. Even down to the inside joke of killing Paul in every article lol
Whenever I've been in cab, we've been very open that anyone who wants to step up from 2-click status and take a beginner-level cab post is more than welcome. We go out of our way to find places for people, and include anyone who potentially wants to get more active.
I've even been a bigger voice than most in expanding inclusion in the exec, because I'm of the mind that giving a seat at the table to people who disagree will do more to bridge gaps in the community than alienating them from "the room where it happens." I've gotten pushback from others before on wanting to include some of the traditionally anti-forum crowd in exec positions.
That desire for inclusion is how I justify writing for the exec club without feeling like I'm being exclusive. That desire is also what I haven't been seeing in the current admin.
The same subset of the same party that started the CBOD drama for no better reason than "block Feds" replaced several long-time Fed appointees to exec roles for no better reason than "block Feds". CG has broken the tradition of anti-partisanship in the exec.
FIST
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Ah shit, Hank