D.F. Krause Read D.F.'s bio and previous columns
September 11, 2009
Sanity Killed the CEO Star
It’s
hard to believe I paid good money for all this furniture. Actually, I didn’t
pay good money to buy it. I paid good money because my employees
talked me into leasing it. It’s darn nice furniture, but it’s cost me my
shirt (and I don’t have that many shirts), so now I’m sitting on it
realizing that they’re probably going to take it around the same time they
take me.
“Mr. Krause! Open the door! You can’t barricade yourself in there forever!”
“I’m
perfectly sane, I tell you. Perfectly.”
The
next voice I hear is Lacey’s familiar soprano. She tries to be as soothing
as possible.
“D.F., it’s OK. Really. No one’s going to think you’re crazy.”
“What?
You tell me I’m crazy six or seven times a day! They probably heard you.”
More
knocking. I suppose I can’t sit here forever, but I’ve got one last play.
And from the corner of my office, opposite the locked door, I’m not thinking
about opening the door and going with them. I’m thinking about a song that’s
been rolling around in my head for the past week or so. “Video Killed the
Radio Star” by the Buggles. You remember that one, right?
But in
my mind today, the lyrics are a little different:
I’ve seen you stealing wireless ever since ‘02
I
warned you at the time it would come back on you
And
now you sit in there and don’t know what to do
Oh-uh-oh!
They took the credit for your business victories
And
then they ripped you when you had calamity
And
now a way out of this mess is not to be
Oh-uh-oh
I
saw your workers
Oh-uh-oh
They think you’re bonkers
Sanity killed the CEO star
Sanity killed the CEO star
In
your big stuffed boss’s chair
Oh-oh-uh-uh-oh-oh
And
now we meet in some abandoned parking garage
You
hand me documents and strangely a corsage
And
then you disappear, and I need a massage
Oh-uh-oh
How
did you get away?
Oh-uh-oh
Where will you go today?
Sanity killed the CEO star
Sanity killed the CEO star
In
your big stuffed boss’s chair
No
one’s weirder anywhere
They’ll wonder how you got out of there
But
you’ve fled, and you don’t care . . .
You
are . . . a CEO star
You
are . . . a CEO star
Down
comes the door with a thud.
“Where
did he go?” says the heavy. “How did he get away?”
Lacey
peers out the window, and a slight grin curls her lips.
“I
don’t know,” she says. “Vaya con dios, D.F.”
Sanity killed the CEO star . . .
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