Pit News and Migraine News
Jul. 14th, 2008 04:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tinhuvielartanisFor folks who came to this journal after August 2005, the Pit refers to my previous place of employment, what was once called BMG Entertainment, but later became Sony BMG. My Friend Todd still works for them. That's actually how we met, working at what was then known as the RCA Music Service way back in 1987.
Anyway, he forwarded this Billboard news article to me. I called him as soon as I got the email to see where this leaves him. He doesn't know because the weasels who run the company aren't talking. They're pretty much doing what they did back in 2004, keeping their lips closed for as long as they can in order to maintain control of what few employees they have left up until the very end when these wage slaves are no longer needed.
Apparently, the club portion of the industry (buy fortyleven CDs for a penny and give your souls to us, that club, dig?) has already been sold. This means that the folks in the last remaining Duncan warehouse are all out of a job pretty much. At least that's how it seems to be going down. I hope I'm mistaken about this, but I don't think so. Of course, no one in the halls of power will lose their jobs, just the "little people" who actually need their jobs and the insurance that comes along with them.
I spent yesterday in the emergency room holding my head in my lap after it fell off and rolled away.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
clumsycake came to the house, picked up my head, and drove me to the ER. I loves me some clumsycake. The first thing they did when they got me to the triage room was ask about insurance. Now, they can't refuse treatment to people who have no insurance, but they sure as hell harass you after the fact.
The doctor came in and shown light in my eyes. After I grabbed him by the collar and shook him to and fro for doing such a horrible thing to a person with a migraine, he ordered me up a migraine injection comprised of a cocktail of nubain and phenergin. The nurse came in shortly afterward, injected a half gallon of liquid into my hiney, reattached my head, and sent me home to die.
I told a lady at work today that, when the hospital sends me the bill, I'm forwarding it to Dubya. The bastich can afford to pay it much more easily than I, who can't pay it at all at the mo. His policies and evil deeds are the reason why I can't afford a visit to the ER and probably why my migraines have increased in severity and frequency anyway. Bastich.... We hates him, Precious. Hates. Him.
Anyway, he forwarded this Billboard news article to me. I called him as soon as I got the email to see where this leaves him. He doesn't know because the weasels who run the company aren't talking. They're pretty much doing what they did back in 2004, keeping their lips closed for as long as they can in order to maintain control of what few employees they have left up until the very end when these wage slaves are no longer needed.
Apparently, the club portion of the industry (buy fortyleven CDs for a penny and give your souls to us, that club, dig?) has already been sold. This means that the folks in the last remaining Duncan warehouse are all out of a job pretty much. At least that's how it seems to be going down. I hope I'm mistaken about this, but I don't think so. Of course, no one in the halls of power will lose their jobs, just the "little people" who actually need their jobs and the insurance that comes along with them.
I spent yesterday in the emergency room holding my head in my lap after it fell off and rolled away.
clumsycake came to the house, picked up my head, and drove me to the ER. I loves me some clumsycake. The first thing they did when they got me to the triage room was ask about insurance. Now, they can't refuse treatment to people who have no insurance, but they sure as hell harass you after the fact. The doctor came in and shown light in my eyes. After I grabbed him by the collar and shook him to and fro for doing such a horrible thing to a person with a migraine, he ordered me up a migraine injection comprised of a cocktail of nubain and phenergin. The nurse came in shortly afterward, injected a half gallon of liquid into my hiney, reattached my head, and sent me home to die.
I told a lady at work today that, when the hospital sends me the bill, I'm forwarding it to Dubya. The bastich can afford to pay it much more easily than I, who can't pay it at all at the mo. His policies and evil deeds are the reason why I can't afford a visit to the ER and probably why my migraines have increased in severity and frequency anyway. Bastich.... We hates him, Precious. Hates. Him.
