Who will run the machines?

A former co-worker once said, rather jokingly, although I could sense the seriousness behind the tone, that he would always come back and visit our workplace wearing a different suit everytime just to remind everybody that there is another place, a better one, or what a typical middle class or aspiring middle class would describe as a real job.

Lamentations on Labor Day

I was tempted to open this line with something like “a spectre is haunting the world”, but decided, quite wisely, I suppose, against it, obviously, lest it would look more like an early 1900 proletarian manifesto in Europe rather than a twentyfirst century petty bourgeois blog.