"Why the fuck have you gotta serve somebody?" Job Dylan

Dear Dylan, Even the great Dylan had to serve somebody. Even when he was writing his pop philosophic 'You gotta serve somebody', he was serving somebody. Even when he wasn't serving anybody, he was serving himself. That is the reality of life. You may be a preacher, you may be a teacher, you may be a screecher, you may be a moocher, no matter what you are, you gotta serve somebody. You may be a ho, you may be schmoe, you may be a bozo, you may be gonzo, no matter what the fuck yo, you are serving somebody. As the great mooner Billy Koel once said...hmm, now what did he say? Oh yeah, never mind, what he said. It doesn't serve the purpose of illustrating the point that you gotta serve somebody. The point to be noted though, is that when he was saying what he said, he was serving somebody for a large amount of money. If you don't fucking serve somebody, you are not serving yourself. You can only serve yourself when you are serving somebody. We may be a writer, we may be a blighter, we may be a fighter, we may be nothing more than a typewriter, no matter what we fucking are, we've always fucking served somebody. God fucking knows why we have to? Speaking of the blighter, even he serves somebody. Yes God. You might ask who does the great Lord above serve? Well, apart from the fact that the great Lord above is little more than a figment of somebody's manipulative imagination, he is there because he serves the purpose of that manipulative imagination. No matter what or who or where the purpose of that fucked up imagination is taking us, God is serving it. Then there's the great science seller Richard Hawkins who says, "The only reason we are here is to keep our genes going. Our bodies are little more than delivery machines for the genes they carry. Our minds make our bodies do what they do so they can serve the purpose of optimum gene survival. No matter what you may think you are doing, you are only doing what your genes are directing you to do for their continued survival." God bless Science. We'd like to end this service with a throwaway line from the very dead shunknown shoet Slob Milan. Slob loved to say this to nobody who cared to listen. Hunched on his couch that took him nowhere, he'd stare into the distance and amuse, "Do, do, do-do. Da, do, da. Do, do, do-do? Hah, bah! I do not." Go back to that every time you're forced to deal with the angst of serving somebody. It will serve you well. Your well done Funcle.