What I learned in Business School

I attended the Leeds school of business at the University of Colorado, and I the sum of what I learned from 4 years at that fine institution can be summed in the following sentence:

A conscience is a terrible thing.

There is nothing more eloquent, true, nor extensive than the ability to type efficiently(universally taught in every business school), excepting the capability to eschew any sense of conscience. It is what makes the world of business go ’round.

If you wish to spank it to a copy of Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged or (the condensed version) The Fountainhead, business school is the place for you.

I’m writing a book

And it’s kind of a challenge– you see, there are no men in it. Not one.

It’s science fiction (big surprise). The story is based on a traditional male-fantasy of a galaxy populated entirely by women. Sure, it sounds like the old Saturday Night Live skit starring Kirstie Alley about the “women with eyes on their breasts”– but it’s really more complicated than that, as the story will indicate as it goes along.

You see, I’ve always been fascinated by a world run by women. Men have had their shot, and their reign has largely been dominated by warfare, violence and stupidity. What if women ran the game?

For reasons to be explained in the story as it unfolds, what if the males of alien species throughout the galaxy were hyper-aggressive and violent, and the only way that females of those species were able to survive to reach the stars was that they had to eradicate their sexual counterparts?

That is the initial premise of the story, and I don’t want to spoil things by disclosing anything more; but what if such creatures discovered the Earth– a planet where (for undisclosed reasons) males have not been eliminated by a relatively less aggressive female gender?

Just thinking out loud while I write a book (books, actually) that have been unfolding in my mind for about 10 years now.

Stay tuned– I hope to publish book one in about a year.

Hound me and try to hold me to that timeline.

I voted for FDR, but all I got was this lousy Obama

I have a T-shirt that has this saying emblazoned on its chest. I wear it proudly–in public, no less. I believe every word of it. Thusly is how expectations and hopes die.

So, who is FDR? (Go fucking read something, you embryo! Or watch “The Roosevelts” on PBS! He is only our greatest president since Abraham Lincoln, whoever the fuck he was…) Grow the fuck up, and learn something! You owe it to the past, the present and the future! “Who knows only his own time, shall remain forever a child.”


Anyway– when wearing the T-shirt, I often have obvious Tea Party conservatives approach and congratulate me on my choice of apparel and clear vision. They are often quite shocked when I turn on them and their beliefs with a fervor of vitriolic intensity they do not expect and cannot withstand. For they are under the false impression that I, like them, dislike Obama because he is guilty of a crime that is entirely unforgivable in their eyes: governing while black.

The word “socialist” is plied about quite liberally when describing Mr. Obama, and I can only say, as a proud socialist myself, that he is nothing of the sort. For those of you who often confuse socialism with ideologies that have co-opted its name for their own purposes– National Socialists (Nazi pig fuckers), Soviet Socialists (totalitarian communists and red-book thumping Maoists), etc.– and use what was once a popular and respectable term to gain popular favor, socialism can quite simply be defined as the belief that there are some parts of an economy that can be, should be and often are best served when operated by the government.

Since we have (or should have) a government “by, for, and of the people”– “government” means us. How much socialism we have and which industries can best be governed by us as the people as opposed to those conscienceless and marginally psychopathic entities we call corporations is a matter of debate; but that is socialism. Public transportation, when not hampered by right-wing reactionaries can actually work. The energy grid would best be governed by us out of fairness– recordings of Enron employees laughing over “grandma not having her AC” while they manipulated the Californian electrical grid for their own political and financial ends in the early 2000’s should be enough evidence of that.

Greed is often not good, Mr. Gecko.

I think, without reservation, we can all agree that the United States is socialist, like it or not. If you have a problem with that, go out and read a fucking book instead of being frightened by terms used by bloviators like George Will, Fox News, Rush Limbaugh, etc. to scare the shit out of low minded idiots. Quit pissing your pants and grow the fuck up. Socialism is here, it’s staying, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Government is not a bad word, and those who hate it hate themselves and you, a citizen of this great nation.

By the way, I can point out a “socialist” in the modern post-Fox-News parlance by looking at a photograph of any person or persons therein– if they are black, they are obviously socialist, at least to the benighted and hateful Tea-Partiers.

To be more explicit, “socialist” today is a code word for another word that I feel people who dislike our president for the entirely wrong reasons use as a substitute for a word which makes them uncomfortable also for entirely the wrong reasons, which is the fear of exposing their inmost hearts. I will now use that word in its proper and only acceptable context– a quotation, and that word is “nigger.” You have heard it and read it throughout your life, and it is time we confronted it.

In 2014, Socialist = Nigger. Don’t forget it, for it is the codex of your time.

I just wish the people who hate our President for the wrong reason (his race) would come out and use that word plainly and openly, for I can see it in their hearts when I speak with them, they are sadly my friends of many years. For that horrible word would more properly and accurately encompass how they truly feel about anyone they feel is “uppity”– lacking a sense of their true racial place. It is the truest expression of how the Right sees Barak Obama and the inevitable, rightful destiny of our pluralistic nation– “nigger”, “spick”, “kike”, “chink”, “jap”– the other. Their denial only reinforces the fact of their fear and hatred.

Please allow me to make a side comment here about the use of any word that I myself find offensive and hateful: those words should be allowed as a quotation in any and all cases. If someone uses them we should not shirk from quoting their use of it, for the very reason of its and its speaker’s ugliness.

Recently, the works of Mark Twain were purged of that offensive racial term– something that I consider entirely wrong. Mr. Twain in his books Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer, was appropriately using the “N-Word” (a term that I find cowardly when used, for we all know the word for which it is used as placeholder), because he was quoting what people said or would have said without reservation during the time portrayed therein.

In the 1840s when those wonderful and enlightening books are set, which word do you think that people said in that last of slave states, Missouri, to describe a black man? Negro? Black? Colored? Slave? Servant? No, there is only one word that southerners of that time used, and I quote it now: “nigger”. They would have and did use no other word for the condition and subject of human slavery. How could Twain more accurately portray this time and its horrible expression than their own speech?

Use of that word to offend is wrong and beyond forgiveness, that is why I want Tea-Partiers to use it without restriction. What better way can we identify those hateful, hideous people who hide behind other, more pleasing words for what they are and what they truly believe?

I will say, however, that to quote its use by those who use it as a weapon of offense should be regarded as the equivalent of turning over a rock under which hideous and corrupt creatures dwell to expose them to a light from which they will shrivel and recede in fear and (hopefully) shame.

But back to my main point– I dislike Barak Obama as a leader, it is perfectly within my right and accurate perception to do so. My dislike and disrespect is founded on the fact that he had such an exceptional opportunity to change our nation after the abysmal failures of the previous regime, which he squandered. What makes my disrespect for him all the greater is the knowledge of how his race, a subset of our own people, has for so long been held enthralled and subjugated; but he has turned his back on the oppression we have all suffered and the progressive programs that could and should have liberated us all.

Let me stress the description of the Bush white house as not an administration, for with Dick Cheney calling the shots during its first term, it was well and truly a regime– in all the negative connotations that term engenders.

Mr. Obama has pissed away any and all opportunities to better our country in its current plight, by exhibiting the most common trait of his party in its current form: cowardice.

I am not a Democrat. That spineless puddle of piddle has no room for me in its midst, and I do not wish to associate myself with any party that stands for nothing but capitulation to the bullying of ignorami, and appeasement to the loudmouth know-nothings on the right.

I have a theory that at this time has utterly failed: good, “fat” times produce shitheels like Dick Cheney, George Bush, Warren G. Harding, Calvin Coolidge, and Ronald Reagan; while difficult, “lean” times produce Washingtons, Lincolns, Theodore Roosevelts, and Franklin Delano Roosevelts.

We live in absolutely shitty times and we got a convictionless, pale shadow of political ambivalence called Barak H. Obama to address them. For shame to us in appointing him and in him for failing to committing himself to do so.

One of the things I most admire FDR (WTF he was) for saying in response to the suggestion that his conservative opponents to the New Deal (RTAFB!) despised him was: “I welcome their hatred.” Yes, bravery often means hating the true dipshits who oppose you. Fuck ‘em.

Barak Obama has no such convictions. He wants even the people who cannot and never will like him to do just that– like him.

Fuck them. Let them hate you. If they are pricks (and, believe me, they are pricks), then love, enjoy, revel, and roll like a dog in shit in their hatred.

I also miss reasonable, rational conservatives with whom I can hold a considerate and respectable debate. Such people no longer exist.

I remember a scene in Monty Python’s Holy Grail where Arthur is assaulting a castle in England held by unreasonably and possibly unbalanced frenchmen who claimed that “his mother is hamster and his father smelt of elderberries”. To such an insane declaration, one of his knights asked “is there someone else up there we could talk to?”

I feel that way when talking to “conservatives” today. I am dealing with psychopathic nut-jobs who cannot reason in any rational or acceptable way. I say “health care” and they shout “socialism” even though the Affordable Care Act (“Obamacare”) is a program championed by their own leadership since 1992.


Furthermore, thirty-four years of “trickle-down” and the Laffer curve (look it up, embryo!) has ruined us as a nation. How much longer must we endure the myth engendered by Ronald Reagan’s piss-poor vision of the United States which his own Vice President rightfully called “voodoo economics”? The experiment is dead, its champions discredited, why do we venerate the idea and persist in its execution?

Likewise, I miss liberals with any sense of strength and conviction whatsoever. Since the Democratic National Convention of 1944 black-balled Henry Wallace, there has been absolutely no defense of the common man excepting the half-assed appeasement of our aging population enacted with the 1965 Medicare Act, which even required that dipshit George W. Bush to expand the prescription benefits for the elderly.

Let’s consider the expression of the human condition since then: demonstrably there is nothing lower in morality than a corporation; but contrarily, there is nothing held higher under law than a corporation.

<Insert crying jag for the future of mankind here/>.

Being stupid is not a sin, but being ignorant is, especially when that ignorance is willful. We live in a time where people choose to be ignorant, to be oblivious to their own plight, let alone to the plight of those who differ in race, creed, color or religion.

Money is not free speech, corporations are not people. I don’t claim to have originated that sentiment, but I believe it wholeheartedly and if you can reason, so should you (I guess that means the most recent Republican candidate for the presidency, Mitt Romney cannot reason, Q.E.D.).

I am and shall remain a man of my convictions. If I must die to defend what I believe in, so be it. There is no other way for me. Hypocrisy is the greatest and most intolerable of sins and cowardice its most common expression. I will endeavor to hide behind neither of these things.

And so I wear my T-shirt.

The Illuminati

I have always been fan of the most bizarre conspiracy theories: that aliens have been in contact with our government since as early as the Tunguska event or Roswell; that Freemasons, Rosicrucians, or the Bavarian Illuminati secretly run the world; that George H. W. Bush was describing the some sort of secretive star-chamber of sinister manipulators on a global scale when he used the term “new world order”; that Hitler escaped his final retribution and lives in a secret base in the “inner earth”– a world that exists inside our own, with the “inner light” of our world projected on a landscape inverted on the “inside” of a hollow planet; that JFK was killed by a cabal of communists, mafioso, CIA operatives and J. Edgar Hoover-fronted homosexuals bent on dominating the Earth… the list goes on interminably and insanely.

Robert Anton Wilson and Robert Shea wrote a truly excellent book called “Illuninatus” in the late 1960’s. It is written in the style of James Joyce’s “Ulysses” and “Finnegan’s Wake”: essentially writing a book onto a printed page (easy in pre-word-processor times, since everything was done on a typewriter) and then cutting it up paragraph by paragraph, throwing the scraps into a bucket, mixing it up and drawing each piece out one by one and recording it as the book in the order extracted. The book is called “Illuminatus” and it attempts to incorporate every conspiracy from the supposed rescue of Christ from the cross to John Dillinger’s death (and reported recovery) and display of his reportedly exceptionally large penis to “selected” guests at the FBI to the JFK and RFK assassinations to the ’68 Chicago riots into a description of the state of mankind and its readiness to accept an ascension into a new state of awareness.

It is a great book for the very reason that it destroys every mechanism used to describe the world as a victim of conspiracy. Conspiracies cannot exist.

One thing I’ve learned about the way that the world in my few years of living on it is that no conspiracy can last for long. By legal definition, a conspiracy is more than one person planning  and executing an illegal act for nefarious purposes. Consider the classic bank robbery: there is more than one person who plans and executes it. What makes such an felonious act fail when one or more of the perpetrators is caught? Somebody talks.

Somebody always talks. The hairless monkey, if he loves anything at all, loves to talk, to brag, to blabber, to boast. Talk makes the world go round, and nothing can stay secret for long if a hairless ape (that’s us) is involved, and the more shaved primates involved, the more the likely that they will chatter. Welcome to the human race– no one can keep their mouth shut for long.

“Good Fella’s” is one of my favorite movies because it demonstrates (with the “Lufthansa heist”) that sooner or later, living, breathing human beings are going to talk, so (as it turns out) the best way to keep them quiet is to eliminate the adjectives from that description: make them non-living, non-breathing human beings– dead.

My only conspiracy theory that I am able to accept regarding the JFK assassination is that “Guido” is dispatched to Dallas on November 22nd 1963. He waits behind wooden fence above the grassy knoll to assist the “fall-guy” Lee Harvey Oswald. He greases the president and returns to Chicago or New York expecting a slap on the back, while LHO kills J. D. Tippett on the run to be later arrested at the Texas Theater (at which I saw film in the 1980’s and minorly freaked when my friend David Platzer reminded me was where he was caught). At the airport “Guido” is met by “Gianni” and “Rocko” who were sent by the “boss” to pick up and because he “ratted”– an unforgivable sin in mob terms. “Gianni” and “Rocko” aren’t bright enough to know anything about “Guido’s” connection to Dallas (he keeps his mouth shut just long enough to die). Later, “Rocko” and “Gianni” meet the same fate at the “boss’s” orders. Nice and neat– all the people aware of the conspiracy besides the “boss” are dead.

This is the only way that a conspiracy is preserved: everybody but one person is dead, and it’s even better if he or she is dead, too.

Loose lips sink ships.

The fewer living lips that can talk the better– thus the conspiracy survives.

There is no fucking way that the freemasons, the Rosicrucians, the Trilateral Commission, the Mormons, the whatever can be secretly running the world. Why? Secret handshakes or not, more people equals more flapping mouths and more chances the conspiracy will fall apart.

The next time you hear some Obama-hater (read “nigger-hater”, because that is all that they are) talking about the imagined socialist conspiracy, remind them that they are racists that are out of their minds. Their imagined nefarious plots out to “destroy ‘merka” are impossible because those activities involve more than one person to execute and will never be able to be kept secret for 20 seconds.

Historically, the Illuminati or “Illuminated ones” were thought of as some beings, whether human or otherwise (aliens? Atlantians? Lemurians? Republicans?), that control the world with absolute authority and capability. Such a group is an impossibility as long as human beings are involved, Q.E.D.

Humans are blabby, ergo no super-secret organizations involving them can exist.

So who or what are the Illuminati? The “Illuminated ones”, the folks who supposedly know what is really going on?

In the process of destroying the myth of the Illuminati or the masters of all conspiracy in the world, Wilson and Shea spent a lot of time in their truly mythic and voluminous book to describe the process of illumination: seeing the world as it truly is, not as an illusion.

If someone were to ask me what I wanted of life when I was 20 or 30, I would have said “happiness” (whatever the fuck that is).

What I want most of all now is enlightenment– to see everything as it really is. To be, by the classic definition of illumination, one of the Illuminati. I don’t want to conquer or control the world, I want to see and experience it as it truly is, without illusion.

To be enlightened is painful, lonely and frightening. It is easy to accept a commercial for a new car on face value and to desire the product offers– to accept its definition of the buyer as a superior person as refinement and ultimate life satisfaction. It’s painful and lonely to recognize the advertisement as a complete sham, its message as an utter falsehood.

It’s frightening to know that all appeals to our purchasing power, to our professional sports team loyalty, our protective instincts regarding our children are manipulations of our base needs.

None of the things we are implored to buy, none of the political loyalties we express in the voting booth, none of the sports we watch, the things we buy, the activities we are socially pressured into performing are genuine, and that is terrifying.

Illusion is everywhere. It is offered in a panoply of disguises we accept with dull acquiescence. To quote Wilson in his later books: “all that is is metaphor.”

Now, I’m going to go way out on a limb here and say that far beyond the social illusion and game-playing that is done to get us to buy things and vote a certain way, there is the illusion we accept at the level of what we call “reality”.

We only know that which our senses (seeing, hearing, touching, tasting and smelling) can perceive. What exists beyond those perceptions? What about the state of reality at the quantum level?

What is real?

That is what I want to know. I have always been somewhat of an oddball because I have always asked that question. I have often been mocked by friends who are stuck in the paradigm of the day-to-day. What is real? What is an illusion?

I have chosen to be  enlightened as opposed to benighted, and for that I will never be normal.

Who the fuck wants to be normal?

I only wish that people were smart enough to control things on a global scale; but I’m afraid we are far too stupid to do so at this point in our development. We are still working on mastering cleverness, and it will be a while before we are prepared to tackle intelligence.

Tales from the Automated Men’s Room

There is a fully automated men’s room at my current contract.  I dread the future like like an oncoming train every time I go in there.

The toilets flush at unexpected times, or not at all. The urinals seem to function all right, I’ve never experienced a misfire once; but the process of washing your hands rarely goes without mishap.

You can wave your hands in front of what appears to be a motion sensor on the spout. I have absolutely no idea how to control the temperature of the water. One time I washed my hands and the water was warm– words cannot express my wonderment and joy. Cold is the norm. There is a little lever on the side of the spout near the sensor, but it seems to have as much to do with the temperature of the water as the current phase of the moon.

Placing a hand under the soap dispenser, you can hear a mechanical whirring much like one you can hear when you place a penny on one of those toy banks where a green claw rakes outward to scoop the coin into a maw one can only assume leads to a cache of other coins deposited in the past. Whether the sound is actually accompanied by the deposit of a small dollop of coconut-scented soap in your palm is another matter. Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t.

Mussolini never promised to make the soap arrive on time, only the trains– fascism (the merger of the corporate with daily life) fails again.

Once you are lucky enough to be anointed with (anti-bacterial!) soap, your wash your hands. Maybe your hands are wet from attempting to trigger the water spout; but if they are not, you get to feel that ever-pleasant feeling of “dry washing” with soap– sticky and unyielding, like drying Elmer’s glue or peanut butter.

Your hands properly washed (using the ABC’s rule for how long to wash them), you start dong hand flourishes like a model on the Price is Right to get the water to run again. It squirts for a nanosecond or two, requiring you to spend at least a minute to rinse the soap off your hands. Once you no longer need more water to wash the soap away, the spout gushes forth with enough water to put Niagara Falls to shame, as you shake your head in puzzlement. You try to recall what ritual you performed to get the water to flow so copiously for next time, knowing that some random number generator embedded in the sink software has generated a new pattern for the next poor sap to have to follow. You are certain you can hear the distant laughter of some engineer who came up with this shit and gets paid for it.

But you’re not done yet. Oh no, my friend– you must now dry your hands.

Knowing from past experience that the paper towel dispenser coughs out a square of paper that is insufficient for mopping up the tears of a housefly, you shake your hands over the sink. You notice that other patrons have shaken their hands about the sink in the same preparation– there are puddles all about the sink and floor, a slipping hazard and eyesore. Progress!

You turn and approach the PT dispenser with the wariness of an old adversary. It knows your moves– it’s single, unblinking sensory eye giving no indication of whether there are any PTs to dispense or not.

You pass your hands over the eye left to right, right to left, in and out, out and in, top to bottom, bottom to top, diagonally– the machine is unresponsive. You whip out your best Kung Fu moves (Quai Chang Kain would be impressed, but the machine isn’t). New patrons enter the room, and you are embarrassed at being caught in an awkward hold position you saw on UFC.

So much PT dispenser, but in case it fails to render square of pulped tree, you can rely on the back up: a hand blow-drier. As you move toward it the PT dispenser mockingly spits out 3 inches of towel as reward for your pitiful efforts. It is thoroughly soaked as soon at you tear it from its lodgement.

Bow to the machine, mortal!

You fight a homicidal urge to rip the towel monster from it mountings and smash it to smithereens. Such behavior is unseemly among contract staff– immediate termination for destruction of valuable company property in the offing.

You head for the door, dreading with utter certainty the installation of a robotic arm that will extend from the urinal in the not too distant future that will bang your dick against the porcelain to dry it, wringing the last drops from it with a wringer much like your (great-) grandmother’s vintage 1935 washing machine and stuffing it unceremoniously into your drawers where it will most certainly get caught in your zipper (I’m prepared– I wear button fly jeans).

If brilliant minds dedicated to improving the process of bodily waste elimination in a sanitary fashion can’t get this right, we are doomed.

With such a simple set of tasks going so horribly wrong, just think of the complexities of an airplane autopilot. Imagine an airline pilot frantically toggling the switch as the passenger plane stubbornly plunges into the Atlantic (Air France, anyone?) or just plain disappears over South East Asia (hello, Air Malaysia!).

That car wash you like to frequent at the local filling station– should it go bonkers, would you and your dog Fluffy (who loves to bark at the splashing water) be found in the contraption days later– you lucky to be alive only because the attendant went out to check the soap levels, having long since devoured your loving pet and one of your feet out of near starvation?

It’s what I call the “robotic arm effect.” The machine does some task that 99% of the time works without a hitch; but every once in a while that old arm goes into twitch mode, welding a nearby factory worker into the frame of your specially ordered Ford Compensator which you discover only after that “new car smell” becomes something far more sinister and nauseating.

This is where technology goes awry– or more accurately, little-understood technology in the hands of mildly clever hairless apes goes awry. We are ever more feverishly complexificatorizing everything around us, believing that if we just sprinkle or squirt a little more technology on something, it will get better. We do this blindly, and sooner or later it is going to kill us all.

I’m no Luddite by any stretch of the imagination; but I see technology fail in alarming ways every day, and people’s ability to cope with such failures becoming becoming less and less. It’s rare for someone to take a step back and say, “wow, this is cool; but will it kill me?”

As I’ve ranted before, Siri is my poster child for bad technology. The same people who were fascinated with video laser-disks and digital watches back in the seventies think that Ray Kurzweil’s brainchild is really keen, when I think of it as a slobbering, half-deaf, goat-brained monstrosity that never hears what I say nor yields a decent answer even if I talk to it slowly and avoid calling it the C-word (give it a male voice, and I’ll stop that immediately).

I’m not saying that technology is bad, but whoever thinks of the net result it yields?

If evil is the lack of conscience, then innocence is lacking the capacity to understand consequence. Adam and Eve of mythical fame were innocent, so are your children (if they are lucky they will grow out of it).

Computers are the epitome of innocence. They follow the instructions given them without question.

I’m sure somewhere, some innocent computer has been given the capacity and ability to launch a series of events (nuclear missile launch, release of airborne Ebola from government research labs, “I’m all about that base” played on every audio device on the planet, etc.) that will turn the Earth into a very un-livable place. Someone will fire off the program that initiates such an immanentization of the eschatons and the friendly and helpful computer that hosts it will pop up a dialog much like this:


Note that “Yes” is the default option, and I am terrified of what the little X in the upper right is going to do.

My father, who worked for over 20 years in computer operations before going low tech and starting a rental business that “computers don’t make mistakes, the people who program them do.” More accurately: “computers don’t make mistakes, but the hairless apes who less than 10,000 years ago were still picking lice off each other for sustenance and are the very exemplars of laziness do.”

Programming is software, and there is no such thing as bug-free software. Take it from a guy who writes the stuff for a living.

The reason that it’s called a “release” every time someone makes a piece of software available to a wider audience is much akin to the evil mad scientist “releasing” his monster on an unsuspecting nearby village, just as those same villagers coming on up to the castle to take some revenge after the depredations of the EMS’s can be considered “end-user feedback.”

We are fucked no matter how you look at it.

The International Chinese Communist Conspiracy

ChiComs are at it again.

They started back in the 1970s, when they started monkeying with the weather.  If you’re from Colorado, you remember the winter of 1983-1984–need I say more? Hurricanes started making landfall as far north as New York in 1986.

Global warming? Poppycock! You want a man-caused weather problem? ChiComs.

But enough about the weather– that’s so yesterday. Besides, the damage to the delicate climatological balance by those deranged Maoists has already been done.

But this time, they’ve gone too far. Now they are monkeying with time.

Remember how last Christmas only seemed to be about 2 weeks after the Christmas that preceded it? And, if that don’t beat all, it’s almost Christmas again! Hell, summer is over! It’s fucking Labor day (an International Communist Conspiracy holiday I might add).

Are you beginning to follow my drift?

The sheer gall that these Godless Communists show by fiddling with such things. I think their reasoning is that if they can properly distort history to further discredit Genesis. Oh the lengths to which those socialist monsters will go to prove their sick Darwinistic beliefs!

Not to mention the fact that they produce prodigious quantities of crap in their slave-labor camps that must be consumed in an ever more rapidly occurring cycle of holiday giving, or CrApple product releases.

Besides that they like fucking with us. Seriously. They could all fart at once and blow out every window on the west coast; but that would be too easy and they couldn’t deny it (not with the ensuing tsunami that would obliterate Hawaii). They want to keep us guessing.

Who else could be playing hide the pickle with time? The Ruskies? Why not? Who’s to say they haven’t been commie all alone? Were the Russians just lying low for a few years, so we’d get cocky, bloated and bogged down in a middle eastern debacle, so that they could re-emerge? Isn’t Putin trying to re-absorb the old Soviet republics? Ukraine anyone?

So much more easy to destroy the west when you can speed up time to deploy your troops and then– whammo! The First International is being sung by your kids at school, where they learn Marxism.


A good Consultant

A good consultant puts him or herself out of business. Go in, apply the skill set necessary (hopefully they are learned by someone who stays behind) and leave. Sticking around is wrong.

The worst thing that a good consultant can to is make him or herself indispensable.

I know plenty of bad consultants: they become the “data expert” or that one person who just knows how everything is put together– indispensable.

I’m trying to get back into good consulting again– trying to not be indispensable. Back to basics– learn my chops.

Musicians know that they have to get back in there and perform every once in a while. Practice is fine, but you have to play with a band, make your mistakes and learn the hard lessons, no matter whether if it’s straight blues or show tunes.

Being inconsequential but contributory.


I’m absolutely for sending troops to Iraq

Yes, we should suit up Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, Paul Wolfowitz, Richard Perle, Bill Kristol, Liz Cheney, George W. Bush, Condi Rice, Colin Powell, Karl Rove, John McCain, Lindsey Graham, Hillary Clinton, John Kerry and every last Neocon we can round up, arm them to the teeth and paradrop them smack dab in the middle of Iraq. There should be at least 4500 of them we could find– just the number of lives that we have already invested in the country. Obviously those who died there in the last 11 years were not committed, if they had been they would never would have been killed…

We will keep them supplied: plenty of ammo and food, however medical evacuation and extrication is out of the question until they have solved the problems in Iraq they are so certain they could mend if they were once more in power.

Now is the time to prove with actions the conviction of their words.