Friends,
I spent the weekend in America’s Finest Just Okay Merely Adequate Barely Passible City for work-type meetings and have had a surprisingly good time. Surprising, after Friday’s meeting called by the higher-ups about how we suck. That wasn’t exactly name of the event. Something about data collection and reports and the dullness and dryness that middle management functionaries wallow in, but I’m mostly not allowed to talk about it. I guess they’re very sensitive. You know, about their crabbiness.
The funny thing is this. I called it a week ago. I accused them of holding a grand “finger-pointing exercise” and wanted no part of it. Tempers flared, accusations were leveled, and my presence became mandatory. Speaking of inappropriate, I probably shouldn’t have told Mr. Boss “I told you so,” but that’s how it went. Cripes, what a nightmare.
But wait! What about the mailbag? We don’t have a mailbag. Okay, we do, but nobody sends anything to it. That’s not to say the we don’t receive criticism. Let’s chat with the editor:
- yeah, apparently you’re a right wing jerk. – ed
- Um, what? Me? Mister peace and love?
- well fruitcake, you supported the war, and you’ve got this free market, anti-immigrant thing going on.
- Wait a minute, anti-illegal immigrant, thank you very much.
- well, ain’t that cute. you’re against people fleeing their corrupt, third-world existence to the promise of a better life. nice.
- Only when we’re paying for it.
- small-l libertarianism. isn’t that the current vogue?
- Not anymore, I guess. It’s a post-partisan world now. Or didn’t you see the State of the State speech.
- and the war?
- I’m going with the moderates on this one. Right war, wrong time.
- are you kidding me? you’re supporting that brain-dead idiot?
- Can you hear yourself? He’s a knucklehead and he’s botched the middle and the end part. Maybe Obama can fix it!
- jeebus, i’m depressed.
- Me too.
There was a little more in that meeting with the editor, but it was mostly gentle sobbing, and we held hands for a little while. In a totally manly way, though.
Your pal,
bob