Executive Toys

Over the last few weeks, I've had the misfortune of spending more time than I'd like in a number of different offices - including those of some executives.

Something I've noticed is that the more 'important' someone is (or believes themselves to be), the greater the likelihood that they have one (or more) 'toys' in their office.

I don't mean Slinkys, or dartboards, or stuff like that; what I'm talking about is crap like indoor artificial waterfalls (varying in size from desktop models to something that likely needed a dolly to haul it in), personal water coolers (the kind with bottles on top), and any number of other things that could have some vague functionality and usefulness. Except that in a few rare cases, these 'toys' are not in real, actual use - in fact, most of them had clearly not been used in quite some time, but were still cluttering the office of the executive in question.

I'm left wondering: did these indivuals buy these things with money from their own pockets, or (as I'm afraid) did they manage to exercise their 'authority' to get them in a probably petty exercise of power? If these items were purchased with 'company' money, what did the rest of the staff think about it, and what was the effect on office morale?

For myself, I don't think I'd want to work where anyone was allowed to buy crap like that using 'company' funds - it seems to suggest that there's simply too much petty politics, power games, and other nonsense to make it tolerable, never mind enjoyable, place.

FEBF

I suppose that everyone has heard or made a comment on the ostentatious consumption of those with a high level of disposable income - most notably, those that drive vehicles like Hummers, the extra-large SUVs (such as the Yukon, Suburban, Navigator, and the like).

While I'm not a big fan of such monstrosities, I can understand that they do meet a certain specific designed function: the (perhaps theoretical) capability of going places that most other vehicles can't. By way of illustration, the original Hummer was the military version that was designed to meet the needs of ground forces. I wasn't surprised when there was a civilian version developed - after all, the military aren't the only ones that need to get from point "A" to point "B" regardless of what terrain might be between them.

Similarly, the SUV (which is short for Sport Utility Vehicle, after all) was designed with the idea that the owner/operator had the need to travel places where there weren't any roads, and other rough terrain - say, a rancher that needed to get himself and a small-ish crew to a remote location, surveying crews, and so on.

However, these vehicles have pretty much lost all claim to 'sport' or 'utility' for the simple reason that far too few of them are used for either of those purposes. I've taken to really observing the SUVs that I see, and I daresay that for the vast majority of them, the closest they've been to 'off road' has been when the owner accidentally ran one of the tires into a flowerbed. I mean, really: would a rational, normal person that intended to take a vehicle off road and into conditions that could conceivably cause damage to the outside of it give it a fancy paint job? Or rig it with all that shiny chrome? I sure as hell wouldn't!

I'm reminded of a supervisor I had at the first job I had when I got out of the Navy: he'd gone out and bought a fancy Jeep with 4-wheel drive that was capable of taking him just about anywhere he wanted to go - he was into fishing and hunting, and some of his favorite spots to engage in these activities were fairly remote. The problem was that his shiny new Jeep also came with a fairly elaborate paint job on the hood (an eagle), pinstriping, and a pretty snazzy basic paint job. The net result was that he didn't dare take the damn thing off the road in case anything scratched it!

Something else that I've noticed about the majority of the SUVs I've seen on the road is that it is very rare to see more than a couple of people in them - in fact, most often, it's one person driving (in the case of a Soccer Mom, she might have a kid or two in the back). That's hardly the efficient use of resources (not just the fuel to drive these monsters, but the energy and materials needed to MAKE them) that I like to see. I've heard a number of different justifications why people 'need' these behemoths, but none of them really works:

• I need 4-wheel drive (fine - there are smaller, more fuel-efficient vehicles that have that, if not ALL wheel drive)
• I need the space (what? for you and one or two other people?)
• They're safer (maybe for you when you get into an accident because the damn things have so much inertia that you can't stop them on wet/icy/snowy road, but whoever you run into is probably fucked)
• I need the capacity (sure, maybe once or twice a year; it'd be cheaper to rent a U-Haul those times)

No, I figure people buy the damn things purely to be seen in them: they can drive a monster like that, so they're damn well going to, regardless of any other consideration.

Oh, that FEBF that's the title for this post? Some little old ladies once hit W.C. Fields up for a donation to some charity or other; he told them that the only organization that he gave money to was F.E.B.F. The granny-ladies made the mistake of asking him what it meant - and he politely explained that it stood for Fuck Everybody But Fields.

Teamwork

During my somewhat mis-spent youth, there was a period when I was actually a member of a Boy Kraut troop.

That membership was not out of any commitment to the Boy Scout philosophy, a desire to live a Better Life, or any of that nonsense.

I just wanted to go camping.

As a consequence I ultimately found myself a member of the Nerd Patrol.

Oh, that wasn't the actual name we had (it was something like Flaming Arrows or Babbling Brook or somesuch). No, that was the function we served, compared to the Eagle Patrol, Bear Patrol, Wolf Patrol, et al.

Granted, there were a couple of guys in the patrol that likely shouldn't have been in the Boy Scouts, anyway - but the majority of us were members simply for the camping and other activities. Not a one of us ever got as far as First Class, for example - we simply didn't give a shit about merit badges or any of the other nonsense.

None of us was into sports or athletics or any of the other things the guys in the other patrols were so serious about. Rather, we did stuff like play chess, read books, and engage in similar non-jock pursuits.

Thus, we were subject to a certain amount of harassment by the other patrols - right up until we decided that enough was enough.

Once that decision was reached, it was a fairly simple and straightforward process of deciding how to deal with it. We knew that we couldn't compete with the other patrols on their terms; we ultimately settled on using something that we had that they apparently didn't: brains.

Sure enough, it wasn't but a couple of camping trips later that a couple of guys from one of the other patrols did some damn thing or other to make things difficult for us. We didn't fuss or complain or anything else. We just waited for our oppotunity for a little creative retribution.

That night, the patrol whose members had given us such grief discovered that someone had spiked some of their firewood with small magnesium rods. Now, magnesium wire (more like thread) is what is flashbulbs use - it burns really hot, and with a bright, bright light. It's also damn near impossible to put out - certainly not with anything a bunch of Boy Scouts out in the middle of nowhere are likely to have available. So the magnesium rods (probably about the size of large kitchen matches) tended to burn with a vengeance, screwing up any sense of tranquility or comraderie that might have existed.

Naturally enough, the other patrol associated this singularly unusual event to us - and tried to complain to the Scoutmaster. When he came to us (with a couple of the patrol members in tow), we did our very best "Who? Us?" impression, and asking what possible reason we would have for doing anything like that.

If the guys from the other patrol had fessed up, we would have had our asses in a real sling; but since they didn't, we were off the hook.

After that, it didn't take long for the other patrols to figure out that if they screwed with ANY of us, they were taking on ALL of us - and could look forward to some serious payback: they might discover that during the night, the ashes of their fire had been thoroughly 'seeded' with black powder, making the next mornings campfire rather 'vigorous'. Or they might get a repeat of the magnesium-in-the-firewood trick. Or perhaps their firewood might prove to have a hollow spot that contained chemicals (equal parts of sulfur, sugar, and phenolthalene) that would emit a dense, odorous smoke. It was never anything permanent or that caused any kind of injury (other than a few guys returning home sans eyebrows, anyway), but was inevitably something that drove the point home with a sledgehammer: don't mess with those guys.

I don't doubt that the Scoutmaster figured out what happened, and knew what was going on - and I expect he understood that we weren't doing anything to anyone that hadn't started it in the first place. We never got caught (that I know of, anyway), and even got a smile and look of what I think was appreciation for our 'style' after one of our paybacks.

Scrood Agin

Thank you, Republican gonzos in the Senate: thanks to your votes on the Defense Authorization Act, you've shown that you don't give a damn about the rights of the American people.

For those that weren't aware of it, there were two amendments attached to a bit of legislation meant to fund the military for FY 2008. These amendments were a call to re-establish the right of Habeas Corpus (which allows us Mere Mortals to challenge being incarcerated by the government) in the wake of all the "anti-terrorism" crap that Dubya has implemented in the wake of 9/11. Well, thanks to the votes of a bunch of candy-assed, chicken-shit, scumbags in the Senate, the attempt to give us one of our fundamental rights back was prevented.

So we are still subject to being tossed into a jail/prison cell, shipped off to Gitmo, or god-only-knows where else at the whim of whatever federal agent or agency that claims to be doing Dubya's work.

Nice going, you bunch of fucking weasels.

Difference of Opinion

While here at home, I got a phone call this afternoon:

"Hello! This is not a sales call. Please stand by for an important announcement. Someone will be with you shortly..."

On hearing that, my first thought was "Not a sales call, huh? Sure... and Santa Clause is going to bring me lots of presents this year..." - but I waited, anyway.

Several seconds go by, and I hear "Hello! This is not a sales call. Please..." (you know the rest).

Query to self: "If it's so damn important, why the hell isn't a Human Bean making the call instead of this damn 'bot?"

A few seconds more, and it's time for the not-a-sales-call 'bot again.

Query to self:"If it's an announcement, why not just tell me, instead of going through all this bullshit?"

Seconds tick by, and I get another not-a-sales-call.

Query to self:"This is 'shortly'? If I hear that damn 'bot again, I'm hanging up..."

On hearing the next "Hello! This is not a sales call...", I did hang up.

Clearly, whoever the hell told that farookin' machine to call me has a different idea of what constitutes "important", "announcement", and "shortly". If they really want to talk to me, they'll call back.

Otherwise... fuck 'em.

Prank

After seeing this prank on SFO, I've recalled a number of the various stunts that I and others have pulled on each other.

Just this morning, I had something pop into mind:

As a two-part prank, an individual allows himself (or herself, if so inclined) to be temporarily tattooed with a design that resembes the 'cuts of meat' think one can find in butcher shops and the meat department of some stores. This individual then takes a place in the area used for a medical school type class that involves dissection or anatomy, so that the students pull the sheet back only to be presented with the sight of a human being marked for piecemeal resale.

The second part of the prank is simply for the individual to remain as still as possible until such time as one of the students touches him (her), and then suddenly - and preferably dramatically - coming back to life.

I'm don't doubt that one or both of these have been done before, but I still think that it would be highly amusing to witness.

Yes, I have a warped, sick, and twisted sense of humor.

What next?

Over the course of the last few days, I've noticed something else that's serving to let me know just how damn old I'm getting: 60's and 70's rock-and-roll set as Elevator Music.

I'm not talking "Way to San Jose", either.

Stuff I've heard has been such things as

• Jeremiah was a bullfrog
• These boots are made for walkin'
• Riders in the Storm
  
• (what I'm pretty sure was) Paint it Black
• White Room

Jeebus. What's next? Purple Haze?

There aughtta be a law...

Turd with a Tail

a.k.a. the Hairy Nuisance, Fur-face, Useless Lump, Her Royal Highness, and a number of other things.

In short, my cat, Elf (shortened from L.F. which is the abbreviation of Lap Fungus).

She "suffers" from a surplus of personality and character:

• If her (dry) food dish is empty (that is, she can see the bottom of it, regardless of how much is still piled up along the sides), she'll let me know by coming and licking my nose - usually at Oh-Dark-Thirty when I'm sound asleep.
• She'll prepare to ambush me by hiding under the corner of the bed - forgetting about her tail, which normally sticks out and ruins the surprise. I've been known to stand just outside of ambush range and give her tail a little shake, which has prompted her to try and leap into the air in surprise; since she's under the corner of the bed, these leaps are frequently accentuated with a solid 'KLUNK!' when her head impacts the bed/frame. A few moments later, she'll appear from under the other side of the bed as though nothing happened.
• She doesn't seem to be sure if she's a dog or a cat: she'll periodically want to play 'fetch' with one of her toys (a stuffed mouse) - I'll toss it, she'll go 'catch' it, beat the crap out of it, and bring it back for another go - several times. That, and she has a predeliction for licking (not just once, but repeatedly) me whenever I give her a little 'scritch' (soft scratching) anywhere on her body. Since a cat's tongue is a LOT rougher than a dogs (think 60-grit sandpaper), it's a cheap way of getting dermabrasion...
• She won't eat solid canned food. She's fine with the Iams she has available all the time, but the canned food I give her to supplement her diet (a couple ounces every other day) has to have water added and mixed in until she has something resembling soup before she'll eat it. This isn't just for SOME brands of canned food, but ALL of them.
• Half or more of the chunks of dry food have to be dug out of the dish and knocked around on the kitchen floor before they can be eaten.
• Her food dishes are in the kitchen; therefore, if I go into the kitchen, it's obviously to feed her. If I fail to do so, she'll lay in the middle of the floor (making me work around her) in protest.
• She is absolutely fascinated by inkjet printers. I'm a computer geek, and work with a variety of printers for one reason or another; if I run a test print, Elf is there to keep an eye on it.
• Similarly, CDROM/DVD drive trays MUST be beaten/slapped as they close - apparently just to make sure they know who's in charge.
• When I go to bed, it is mandatory that I spend a couple of minutes rubbing her ears, petting her, and generally demonstrating my subservience before she'll let me go to sleep. If I don't do it long enough, I'll get head-butts, the inside of my nose sniffed, or any one of a number of other attention-garnering maneuvers.

"There are many intelligent species in the Univers. They are all owned by cats."

AARP and me

Yes, that's the American Association of Retired Persons - a.k.a. The Geezer Club.

Some months ago, they sent me an invitation to join (I'm soon to turn 53, if it matters); I responded by sending their invitation and application back to them with the explanation that I don't agree with their positions on just about everything(1). I also told them that I didn't want to be bothered again. Yes, I know that I could get a host of various benefits were I to join; however, joining would also add my membership fees/dues to their resources, and thus enable them (that much more) to espouse positions that I don't agree with.

Yesterday, I got an offer for AARP life insurance.

I've sent the (un-completed) offer back with the handwritten annotation that I don't want any, ever, and asking that I be removed from their list.

I've also sent them a digitally-signed email advising them that I wish to be removed from any and all AARP mailing lists, offers, products, proposals, or anything else AARP-ish. Here's hoping the senile old gits get the message this time.

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(1) The AARP is against the idea of requiring proficiency testing for older drivers and against the idea of 'means testing' for eligibility to receive Social Security benefits, for example.
Yes, pulling someones drivers license is denying them a measure of freedom - but it's also protecting the public at large from a possibly dangerous driver. I wonder if they'd fuss if the DL laws were written so that alternate license renewals required proficiency testing...
And I don't see any reason why someone with a 7-figure (or more!) bank account should be collecting Social Security checks: they clearly have quite enough 'security' methinks...

Uh-oh

With a hat-tip to Randy, it turns out that I'm more of a nerd than I thought (but not as bad as I was afraid :-) )