Collective Soul: Vomitola at the bargaining table

Hello chicken tits, it’s been a few days. We had to spend a bit of time in seclusion after our escape from Promises. Luckily Joe Francis has this primo Mexican compound. Our Lord saw fit to kill his only son so that we might enjoy Easter eggs hollowed out and packed full of blow by the tiny fingers of children.

We also realized that perhaps we could exercise collective bargaining rights to keep our jobs as Vomitola. Then we thought about it after another margarita, and we decided maybe we weren’t really deserving of these rights. What if someone else could use them more? Teachers, firefighters, those sorts of bridge and tunnel folks that make the rockin’ municipal world go ’round. We have everything going for us already! We pay no taxes since we’re a corporation. It wouldn’t be fair to make wealthy conjoined Americans such as ourselves pay taxes twice, so we formed an LLC a while back.

Thus did we officially strip ourselves of the concept of collective bargaining rights and appoint ourselves to our own board. We’re no longer just the presidents and CEOs. Let’s see anyone try a takeover now. Hmmph. Golden parachutes for all two of us! It will be a tandem dive, of course. We will land on Mustique.

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