You are getting sleepy.... sleepy....slee.....

Awakening from a dream this morning, I had some real mixed feelings.

I had been restfully sleeping and drifted off to a surreal experience where I was informed that I was going to be laid off from work. I couldn't believe this was happening and began to panic not realizing what I was going to tell Mrs. Kfred to keep her calm or how I was going to meet my monthly obligations without a job. It was all so real. I tried to convince the messenger that it was a mistake and that they should keep me, but, I was told the decision had been made and that they were sorry.

I don't remember what else occurred but, did finally wake up. It took me a few minutes to come out of the fog and realize it was all a dream and that nothing had changed. The good news: I still have a job. The bad news: It wasn't my job here at FTI they were eliminating; it was my position in Dilbertland.

I think I will go back to sleep.

It's Green Sunday

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and tough enough to get this group to think during the week. We get a day off too, you know. I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

The weekly struggle begins again tomorrow.  See you then.

It's Ironic you got a hold of us here

A couple of recent events have made me become increasingly worried about our reputation here at FTI.

In the last 24 hours I have received both a phone call on my personal Executive Director's secure line and an email from 2 different people I do not know inquiring into issues that I know nothing about. The phone call involved an inquiry and request to call back concerning the "Camry" I had available on Craigslist. I have never owned a Camry before.  The second incident was an email from an individual wanting to know if I was "under a gag order" as I hadn't responded to an earlier email. The sad thing is I never received an earlier email.

As relayed above, in both cases I have no idea what these people are talking about.   I find Craigslist readers to be a bit strange and the site itself is nothing more than an electronic want ads site. I don't peruse there any more than I would the ads in the newspaper. If I'm not buying, I'm not interested. NowI have used Craigslist to sell small items before but find that most of the respondents want you to pay them to take stuff and then never show when they state that they  "will be right out". As to being under a "gag order", I don't even know where to start with that one.

Obviously, I am proud of the work here at FTI, but certainly don't trumpet it very loudly for fear of ridicule, shame, and embarrassment.  For the Misfits. Not me.

Jukebox: I'm not quite this lively when drinking wine

And now, a word from our Sponsor

I received an email yesterday from "Jason" at Blogflux who informed me that they have "been quiet for a while, but there is a lot going on in the background and new tools are coming." Jason also informed me that a new tool they would like to offer was a widget called the Daily Deals Widget. For our 2 faithful non-geek readers, a widget is an embedded tool put onto a blog much like our readers globe or the Stupidity Knows No Borders reader meter. Anyways this tool is designed for those living in the US, Canada, UK, Australia, or New Zealand, and is added to the site to show our users the latest daily deals in the local area.

Immediately suspecting this was nothing but another ploy advanced by Dickey the Peap to enjoy another free lunch, I tested the tool to check it out. Thankfully, there were no offers for free lunches for freeloaders, though, I did notice the 60% off savings offer on Waxing services at Bare Down There Waxing.  

I know there is a joke there somewhere. I just can't seem to identify it. 

Talk about procrastinators

I noted this news item from this past weekend; this past President's Day weekend, February 20, 2011! 

WASHINGTON (Reuters) – America's National Christmas Tree came tumbling down Saturday in a windstorm that battered the U.S. capital.

The 47-year-old, 42-foot-high (13-metre) Colorado blue spruce, which the president lit each year to mark the Christmas season, snapped near its base on the Ellipse near the White House.

"We're glad that there are no injuries," said Bill Line, a spokesman for the National Park Service.

"We're glad that it took place at a time when people were away from the tree and we are saddened that it has happened," he told Washington TV station WRC4.

Line said a new tree would be up in time for next Christmas.

Is it a wonder we can't get a budget together on time? Hell, we can't even put away the Christmas decorations until after Valentine's Day.

It's Green Sunday

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and tough enough to get this group to think during the week. We get a day off too, you know. I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

The weekly struggle begins again tomorrow.  See you then. 

The Dream. The Impossible dream

As part of our on-going "Quest for Excellence/the Unattainable Goal" initiative here at FTI, there is great pressure to succeed on our entire staff. Especially troubling is that a new component has been introduced this year.

Slated for vigorous discussion and debate at this Monday's staff meeting is a conversation over a requirement that all staff members pass a core competency test. The fact that our staff IS our staff would seem to negate this hurdle in the first place, but, our cheap-assed Board of Directors have insisted this be measured at well. I don't understand the nervousness surrounding this event as there seem to be no consequences for failure. After all, what's going to happen? If Gummo, the Balloon Boy's services are no longer needed here, what competitive group will need an individual with actual Balloon experience? Does anyone really think that Slateface's abilities are in demand? And other than being a spokesperson for either the Dollar Store organization or as a posterboy for anyone holding an elder abuse workshop, would Dickie the Peap land somewhere else? I think not.

In th end, I know the outcome: the losers here will remain. It's just our way.

Jukebox: As told to me this week

Anyone have any questions?

I currently am on the road on non-Institute business on behalf of the good folks of Dilbertland. I am scheduled to speak this afternoon to a small audience and am looking forward to it.

Initially invited months ago, I was a bit apprehensive as I thought this might actually be a cover for an intervention session. Further investigation showed,this group is unaware of my shadow duties here at FTI and that this invitation was just a, "no, we want to hear about some of your stuff and have you pay for lunch while we do it", type of gathering. I am completely at ease with this type of meeting as this is exactly the same type of attitude that Dickey the Peap employs whenever he calls a similar meeting: I want to invite you, but you are going to pay. Not only is love the universal language, so is cheap.

Regardless, I expect some follow-up questions afterward and all topics will be open for discussion, save one: Any FTI items. I want to be invited back some time.

If you want the best, you have got to get the best

A big shout out is due the wizards of the newly developed FTI fiduciary underwriting control klatsch-usury panel section. Their dogged determination and perseverance in detailing our financial position over the weekend to the US government has netted the Institute a small 3 figure refund on our 2010 taxes. Needless to say, this is a welcome bit of news in an otherwise dreary economic landscape.

Our team was recently hired as there is a multitude of financial talent in the marketplace presently. Knowing that ours is a destination organization for some of these bright minds, reviewing some of the names of organizations from which our team hailed was a pleasure: Enron, Circuit City, Lehman Brothers, and Jedi Mind. These were huge players in their fields and I feel fortunate to have snagged key employees of each to help prepare our FTI return.

I am confident the return will withstand any type of possible scrutiny given to it by the IRS.

It's Green Sunday

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and tough enough to get this group to think during the week. We get a day off too, you know. I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

The weekly struggle begins again tomorrow.  See you then.

Hardly a historical uprising

Like the recent events in Egypt, I was alerted to some continuing noise and clatter outside the Executive Living Quarters here at FTI yesterday. Sending my staff trustee (and  assistant executive director), Giacommo, out to investigate he found Gummo, the Balloon Boy, Dickey the Peap, the Green Comic, Rat Bastard G, Mr. X (and his toadish tag-along, Friend of Mr.X) milling about the compound square mumbling something about change and threatening to disrupt the calm we enjoy.  In an apparent attempt to conceal their true identities for fear of reprisal, the group of dimwits decided to exchange clothes with one another so as not to be recognized.  So, seeing the Green Comic holding a collection of Balloons, the Rat Bastard holding the Friend of Mr. X's hand, and Dickey the Peap holding on to a nickel (somethings don't ever change), I was hardly unaware of whom was involved in the whole matter.  Fortunately, calmer heads prevailed with Giacomo's negotiated offer of settlement: a bowl of 3 day old popcorn and a mug of Ovaltine for each. 

Give Peace a chance. 

Jukebox: Dedicated to Mr. X

I'm thinking of a number

I thought that the continuing  cockeyed investment saga of Mr. X was over with the recent postings of ineptness.  Instead , the story gets better. 

Mr. X called me yesterday excited about his latest venture.  Having earlier in the week fleeced a senior citizen out of a couple of hundred bucks in exchange for some manual labor around the old geezer's home, X is now setting his sites on cornering the market of ESP by investing in a company known as Jedi Mind (To our 2 faithful readers:  truly,  I can't make this stuff up.)  Once again, extensive analysis, raging greed, and blind unawareness,  has led X to a stock of a company that develops software for thought-controlled technologies, allowing the user to interact with the computer and other machines through the power of the mind.   TRANSLATION:  Give us your money, you will never see it again.  Having now taken a position on  60,000 shares, I mentioned to X that I would think that he would now be a member of the Board of Directors or at least part of the Executive team.  X replied that since share were only worth .01 cents each (that's right, one penny!) his $600  stake probably wasn't going to sway many decisions made by the company. 

Now I, for one, hope that X hits it big with this one.  I don't know, though. Apparently he missed this warning sign.  Regardless, all of this has cemented my choice for tomorrow's Jukebox selection.  I encourage you 2 faithful readers to return tomorrow and realize the connection.   

A not so super Super Bowl

Is it me or were all of the commercials during the Super Bowl yesterday, lame? 

And the movie trailers?  Daniel Craig in Cowboys and Aliens!?

If I didn't know better, I would suspect that a number of these ad agency types were alumni of FTI. Their work certainly resembled it.     

It's Green Sunday

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and tough enough to get this group to think during the week. We get a day off too, you know. I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.
Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on by some snotty 6 year old kid. But, go ahead: take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking. Like most places, our admonishments are the same: "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

The weekly struggle begins again tomorrow. See you then.

Jukebox: The CRAP vehicle is something like this

Gee. this is roomy

I am off to the car dealership today to deal with a recently discovered problem with our year old FTI Central Research, Analysis, and Policy (CRAP) Vehicle. Routine maintenance performed by an outside competent mechanic discovered a problem that our members of the FTI motor pool team failed to recognize:  a potential failure that could incur the total replacement of the transmission.   This on a vehicle that is just 13 months old!

My problem is not with the vehicle itself, but, rather the dealership's reluctance to accept the vehicle into the shop. Oh, they have no problem doing the work; it is just that they requested I bring it in under cover of total darkness.  Apparently our FTI logo emblazoned on the side was the source of  worry and ridicule by some employees and adjoining businesses.  (Obviously, our work is known region wide.)  Regardless, I have to bring the vehicle in before sunrise in order to get the necessary work done.

For my efforts, however, I did extract one concession from the dealer:  they will give me a loaner vehicle while mine is being repaired.  Apparently it is some type of trade they just took in.  Clean, Well-maintained.  Low miles.  Room for 12.  The prior owner:  Ringling Brothers.

When Mr. X says "buy", be sure you sell

Having thought that we had earlier fully covered the ineptness and foibles of Mr. X's stock picking abilities, I was under the impression that  under no circumstances would it ever become an issue again.   Unbeknownst to me, it turns out that X had solicited the FTI  charitable arm division  in the hopes of guiding the Institutes's portfolio. As our charitable arm division is  a separate division that is unrelated to our work at this site, they were unfamiliar with X and his epic history of failure in regards to picking successful investments.  Case in point:  his latest wealth building choice.

Known for his diligent research, keen insights, and savvy insider abilities, X's latest choice of maddening riches beyond his wildest dreams was a small medical devices firm.   Relying on multiple sources including the firm's own web page, Mr. X ignored statements including the words "troubled firm", "debt-laden", and "highly doubtful this shit can work".  Of course, the statement  in the "Careers with Us" soliciting candidates for a person whose duties included, "turning off the lights after we fold like a cheap suitcase" didn't seem to register as a warning, either.  Regardless, X bought a substantial position in the company early  in the morning only to  discover the firm had filed bankruptcy by noon.  Sorry Charlie.  Ala-hoo-ay-a-zer.     

Fortunately, our charitable arm here at FTI was wise enough to evaluate Mr. X's promises and statements by processing them through the Factorcrap Truthometer Deluxe via a reciprocal agreement we have with one another.   Realizing that an alliance with X would not be profitable and also a source of shame and embarrassment, they politely declined his offer.  We wish Mr. X a speedy recovery from the financial shellacking he seems to be suffering lately.

It's Green Sunday

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and tough enough to get this group to think during the week. We get a day off too, you know. I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

The weekly struggle begins again tomorrow.  See you then. 

Offensive? Maybe. Funny? Definitely.

With credit to Marv the Neighbor


A man was sitting on a blanket at the beach. He had no arms and no legs.

Three women, from England , Wales , and Scotland , were walking past and felt sorry for the poor man.

The English woman said "Have you ever had a hug?"
The man said "No," so she gave him a hug and walked on.

The Welsh woman said, "Have you ever had a kiss?"
The man said, "No," so she gave him a kiss and walked on.

The Scottish woman came to him and said, "'ave ya ever been fooked, laddie?"
The man broke into a big smile and said, "No".

She said, "Aye, ya will be when the tide comes in."

Jukebox: And I think I am Falling

Stay with it; You can do it!

A bit of odd recognition surrounds our activities here at FTI and I am torn whether to celebrate or be despondent. 

An unsolicited phone call was received here at FTI by someone purporting to be part of a contest  derived from the "Biggest Loser" TV show.  I thought that my continuing workout sessions on the Christmas Wii present must have drawn some attention to my dedication and steadfastness to drop a few pounds.   Immediately, however, I realized that my 15 lb. weight loss goal, though memorable, is not exceptionally meaningful to the producers of a show that profiles people losing upward of 150 lbs. of weight.  As I asked a few more questions, this individual started to explain that No, they weren't looking to profile people whom had lost weight.  They were looking for Losers.  Actual Losers.    Somehow, they had gotten our number and wanted to profile a couple of our members.

The Rat Bastard G begins filming next week. 

Advice for the Forelorn

  
Much like Dear Abby in the local newspaper, our new "Dear Kfred" initiative here at FTI is increasingly becoming a popular feature of the work we perform here for the community.  Here is an actual letter:

Dear Kfred: 

My husband (I'll call him "El-Cheapo") told me today that he didn't get me anything for my birthday because everything was too expensive.  What should I do?

Signed, Mrs. Peap El-Cheapo

Dear Mrs. El-Cheapo,

It's ironic that you write in as we had a very similar scenario here at FTI.  One of the Misfits relayed a story to me when he told me he had his feelings hurt while considering a gift for his wife's birthday.  Apparently our Misfit  thought it would be nice to buy his wife a little gift for her birthday and went to a department store. "How about some perfume?" he asked the cosmetics clerk. She showed him a $50.00 bottle.


"That's a bit much," he said , so she returned with a smaller bottle for $30.00. "That's still quite a bit," he complained.

Growing annoyed, the clerk brought out a tiny $15.00 bottle. "What I mean," said , "is I'd like to see something really cheap."

The clerk handed him a mirror.


Just be thankful he is cheap and doesn't try to squander your life savings on losing stock tips. 

It's Green Sunday

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and tough enough to get this group to think during the week. We get a day off too, you know. I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

The weekly struggle begins again tomorrow.  See you then. 

Jukebox: How cool is This?

You are eligible for an upgrade

Speaking with  Gummo, the Balloon Boy, yesterday during his daily verbal therapy, we discussed a range of topics:   needless insignificant trivia,  the recent passing of Don Kershner (let's see how many of our 2 faithful readers know that name!), the legalities of driving while talking  on a cell phone, etc.   The cell phone issue  is a hot topic  as the Latex Kid recently got a new smart phone and is utterly baffled by it's operation.  Wishing to revert to the simpler model he had been using so successfully earlier, he has scoured all of the phone stores to locate a model with no luck.  Technology has simply passed the point from which his old one operated.  Yes, I understand the new phones are a bit more complicated.  Yes, I know that they have a shorter battery life, but honestly, walking around with the backpack model that looked like the one used from the radioman of the old 60's Rat Patrol TV series  probably would interfere with most daily activities.     

Never the less, as a service to a friend in need, I am posting a picture of the preferred model of choice.  I urge both of our faithful readers to scour their attics, basements, and dead  grandfathers WWII belongings to see if they  have a comparable model.  If so, please contact us here at FTI for placement to a grateful individual.  It would mean so much.   

The official travel partner of FTI

Already thinking ahead and trying to plan to the best of my abilities, I scored a minor victory yesterday  that makes me a bit happy. 

Kfred Jr. 2 begins his 5 year journey with the US Army as a 2nd lieutenant upon graduation this spring.  Obviously, graduation is a big deal with all of the related events and hoopla.  We've known about the date for around 6 months but I never got around to buying some airline tickets.  2 weeks ago, a window of opportunity opened in which I could buy round trip tickets from the FTI base here on the West Coast direct to Newark nonstop for $279 per person.  That's a bargain!  Unfortunately, the window slammed shut by the time I sauntered up to the electronic ticket window a day later and suddenly prices had leapt to $386 each.  Immediately reverting to the type of behavior I have observed in Dickie the Peap, I started forming a plan to whine, moan, complain, browbeat, and badger to the best of my abilities, anyone on the end of the phone line into giving me the previous price.  Obvious, my skills are not as highly refined as his as I got nowhere fast.  Realizing that competition in the airline industry is cut-throat and ongoing, I figured if I waited  and kept checking the website, I would score a deal.  Yesterday, I check in for my daily ritual, note that the price has dropped $135 per ticket, reserved 2 of them, and walked away with the exact seats I had wished for 2 weeks ago and  an extra 270  bones in my pocket to blow in New York City in the springtime.  Badda-bing, Badda-boom.   

The website I used? Why, it's the one that Dickie frequents whenever he travels: CheapoAir. (this site is so cheap that their website is down as I am writing this post. I sure hope they get me the airline tickets.)

It doesn't take much to help

Because we normally have our hands full here, at FTI we try to stay away from any meaningful social policy that would be of note. NO, we are not trying to be lazy, but again, herding the Misfits on a daily basis is enough. A man has his limits. I did become involved with one organization recently, though, that is kind of fun and different.

Kfred Jr. 2 and his wife, Golidlocks gave me a present for Christmas that I activated yesterday and I am glad they did. I received a donation/giftcard in my name to an organization known as Kiva. Simply, from their own website, Kiva's mission is to connect people, through lending, for the sake of alleviating poverty.   Currently, I am a lending partner to a man in Uganda who is running a small market to sell fruits and vegetables in his village.  His total request was for $900.  16 other lenders read his story and decided to help him in his enterprise and loaned him various amounts totaling the $900 to get him started.  He has approximately 18 months to pay back the loan at which time I can then turn around and loan it to someone else.   The beauty of  the project is that the small donation I make is basically nothing to me, but, is a ransom to someone in a poor country trying to survive.  I feel good about helping someone else while knowing that somewhere on the other side of the world, someone, regardless of race, color, or religion is being assisted to get out of poverty.  I think it's great. 

Now, I have go work on my business plan that I am about to submit to Kiva.   I would think that  the FTI story would generate a ton of donations; if for nothing else, simply out of a sense of pity. 

 

It's Green Sunday

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and tough enough to get this group to think during the week. We get a day off too, you know. I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

The weekly struggle begins again tomorrow.  See you then. 

Jukebox: For MLK. Thanks, G-man.

Say, Is that REAL Bling?

The sharp eyed reader will notice a new feature I have added to our page.

Hearkening back to our post last week of the investing travails of Mr. X,  immediately below the "About Me" section in the column of the right side of this page, I am posting the closing price of the particular investment in question as a demonstration and fun way for our 2 faithful readers to track the utter failure of X as he attempts to rebuild his lost fortune.   X bailed out on Zales to take a small profit to only watch a monster run-up in value yesterday that would have easily netted him a solid 4-digit profit.  Instead, the timid one went weak kneed and missed out on a golden opportunity.

Until our idiot IT department (the most reviled department here at FTI) learns how to track the lost opportunity on a  real time basis and add it to the tally as well, I will continue to track it manually and post it regularly.  In the meantime, just remember that in shopping for jewelry, in Mr. X's case, every kiss does NOT begin with Kaye.      

January 27, 2011 UPDATE:  Having displayed ample evidence of the complete lunacy of this choice, I am suspending the practice of tracking this embarrassment.  Mr. X will have to live with the knowledge that stock picking is not his forte.     

Life imitating Art

I got off of the phone earlier this morning and have discovered a new troubling revelation that defies normalcy.

The Rat Bastard G informed me that immortality is his goal and that he intends to become the ageless wonder  similar to the character in the novel "The Picture of Dorian Gray." The novel tells of a young man named Dorian Gray, the subject of a painting by artist Basil Hallward. Basil is impressed by Dorian's beauty and becomes infatuated with him, believing his beauty is responsible for a new mode in his art. Dorian meets Lord Henry Wotton, a friend of Basil's, and becomes enthralled by Lord Henry's world view. Espousing a new hedonism, Lord Henry suggests the only things worth pursuing in life are beauty and fulfillment of the senses. Realizing that one day his beauty will fade, Dorian (whimsically) expresses a desire to sell his soul to ensure the portrait Basil has painted would age rather than himself. Dorian's wish is fulfilled, plunging him into debauched acts. The portrait serves as a reminder of the effect each act has upon his soul, with each sin displayed as a disfigurement of his form, or through a sign of aging.

Unfortunately,  in the case of the G-man, the aging process is not accelerated with sinful deeds, but rather, through acts of stupidity.   And right now, he looks like this. 

It's Green Sunday

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and tough enough to get this group to think during the week. We get a day off too, you know. I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

The weekly struggle begins again tomorrow.  See you then. 

How many Fingers am I holding up?

An unfortunate incident has required me to invoke emergency powers here at FTI. 

Our Safety Director, Mrs Kfred, suffered an unfortunate fall this morning on her way to the FTI Sanitation Receptacle/Misfit Monument as some unseen ice had formed overnight and she slipped and fell and suffered a bruised back and slight blow to the head.   I happened to hear her gasp and the subsequent fall  and immediately sprung into action to investigate.  Finding her slumped on the ground, I helped her to her feet, and immediately rendered first aid.   Fearing that her analytical abilities may be compromised and testing her mental faculties, I  suspected something may be wrong as she  gave incorrect responses to the first 3 of the 4 baseline questions I had formulated including: 1)  the correct atomic weight of chromium, 2) the value of pi to the 6th decimal point, or 3) if CarrotTop was truly a funny comedian.    Only on the 4th question of who was the biggest well known  skinflint that her mumbled answer of "Dickie the Peap" make me realize there would be no long term permanent damage.  Regardless,  I immediately assumed duties for the time being and  know things will be OK on a long term basis. 

Thank God for some absolutes when conducting these type of tests. 

Jukebox: Some Blue Eyed Soul

Pssst. Hey Buddie. Wanna stock tip?

I received a phone call last night from ...well, let's see, this is kind of delicate.....um, he's a little bashful.......well, lets just say that to protect his identity that he is an individual whom we have discussed

about earlier concerning his involvement with an eerily similar sounding venture to our organization.   Let's  just call him call him, "Mr. X".  

Now "X" is a decent kind of fellow; fairly intelligent, definitely more than a bit quirky, but overall a guy that you can count on for sound advice and information on most topics, except one: Finances, specifically, stock picking.  At that point, "Mr. X" falls off the rail and you might as well invest everything you have regardless of loss, cost, or value in any company that exclusively manufactures VCR's, horsewhips, or wall crank telephones. I can assure you that your financial position in any companies in these types of industries  would return more than what X has done with his analytical picks.

"Mr. X" originally hired a second cousin of one of the Misfits on an interim basis to act as an intern of his organization. The resultant failure of this experience made me realize that though X is still one of my confidants, he certainly will not be my financial adviser. Anyways, X was bemoaning the fact that he had a particular investment that he had been holding for a period of time and decided to take a small profit from it and immediately put an order to his broker to sell it all the next morning. Sure enough, the next morning, the investment opened to the downside, further shrinking Mr. X's profit, but, hey, a profit is a profit. Then just as quickly, it reversed course and went up a full $1.25 a share before settling higher for the entire day. As a result, Mr. X watched $6,000 float by his greedy, grubby, overcharging, whining, little meathooks without snagging any part of it.

I feel sorry for X.  Instead of the Midas touch, he has something else.  I think it resembles the short-armed touch. 

From barbells to dumbells

I have begun to take advantage of a new Christmas gift that showed up here at the Institute during the past holiday season. It is designed to help improve my health, balance, and weight and I am having fun doing it.

Santa brought Mrs.Kfred a Nintendo Wii Fit Board and game for Christmas, and I must say, I am impressed. Having requested one last year, at the time I thought Mrs.Kfred might have had made another an unauthorized entry into the FTI infirmary and gotten into a bit extra of the healing spirits we keep here for medicinal purposes only (and when Marv the Neighbor comes over to socialize).  Instead, the Wii Fit has turned into a fun way to exercise without realizing it.  You are doing physical activity and balance exercises without the boring repetitive counting while burning calories along the way.  Make no mistake, the weight training part is not a game and is no picnic, but, since you choose your own level of difficulty, you can certainly control the level of intensity. 

So impressed with the Wii board, that I sent of an e-mail to Nintendo praising them for their fine work and explaining my duties here at the Institute.  I described our population in great detail and offered to collaborate on a new instrument they may be interested for developing, measuring, and recording the numerical equivalent of  the degree of thought process and intelligence quotient in individuals similar to our population here at FTI.  I was subsequently informed that the thimble has evolved to also serve this purpose. 
   

It's New Year's Sunday Brunch

Hey c'mon, it's the first Sunday of the year and tough enough to get this group to think during the entire last year let alone start eliciting anything meaningful from them now. We get a day off too, you know. I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

The weekly struggle begins again tomorrow.  See you then.

Happy New Year

2010 Year in Review-Even Google likes us

As the final post for our year in review, I offer this as  the one that still seems to generate interest. 

I asked the nerds in the idiot FTI IT dept (the most reviled department here at FTI) to determine which of our posts had any type of long-term "traction".   I was trying to see which post generated the most internet traffic.    One particular post stood out and constantly came up in searches by the various search engines on the internet.  In asking how this result occurred, I was told that "a key metric of measuring visits and readership are utilized in embedded code  in the language that produces this page by the Blogger People whom host our site."  TRANSLATION:   There's some cool stuff that tracks all of this shit. 

My journey to the Coachella valley this past spring and this ensuing episode seems to repeatedly come up in search engine results.  But don't take my word for it.  Google the phrase "women attracted to authority figures"  and see who pops up in the number 2 position out of 302,000 results.  That's right. This one!  Oh yeah.  Uh-huh. We got it. 

Ending the year on a high note, I thank both of our 2 faithful readers for your support in this past year, best wishes for the New Year and the constant encouragement to continue on working on the 12 steps to attain  idiocy independence.     Take it from an authority figure:  We developed the program.

2010 Year in Review- the saga continues

Continuing the recitation of meaningless thoughts and observations that would be of significance to most people, I submit these 2 points of light as examples best not to mimic from this past year.  The reader should be admonished, though, that these actually look easy, we here at FTI are trained professionals with only the rudimentary of understanding.  The fact that these even accidentally occurred is still being studied. 

1)   Having the utmost confidence that we have the right people in the places, I am still concerned that Mrs. Kfred refuses to be a willing member of the FTI Executive team. Without prior knowledge, she was appointed Chief Safety Officer here at the Institute, but, occasionally refuses to embrace the importance of it all.  I view this incident as perhaps a wake-up call for her to take her duties seriously.

2)   The constant quest to be relevant, eye-catching, and yes, fun to visit, were the main ingredients when our page change of identity was undertaken.  Actually quite pleased with the results, this switch was not taken lightly and without debate. A faction of the page change committee openly pouted for 3 days after having lost in their bid to have the page consist of nothing but an image of a knotted shoelace.  Something about the ability to neatly convey thoughts and ideas without tripping over own own logic.  Losers.   

And tomorrow, we will revisit the incident that continues to generate the most amazement and doubt of all: my journey to the Coachella Valley and the Giant Carrot Festival, therein. 

2010 Year in review - Pt. 1

Like most other information sources, we here at FTI choose to use this end of the year calendar period  as a time to reflect upon some memorable events during that time.  As opposed to having our 2 faithful readers vote on anything, I, as Executive Director have determined a formula on which stories to highlight:  Knowing that even our 2 faithful readers only check in here about twice a month, I felt a more subjective method of determining some memorable stories would be to judge the stories based on the comments they generated at the time.  Obviously, the comment process is used more often than not as a forum by a couple of our own staff members (one, a  particular, disgruntled, small minded, fiscally "conservative" individual; the other, a known idiot with multiple personalities)  to take "potshots' at me to satisfy their small intellects.  Regardless,   I choose to remain above the fray and post 'em like I see 'em. 

Without any further adieu, I offer these 2 related subject stories with my own views: 

1)  Isn't it amazing how people are so drawn to the subject of internal health and view it as a joke or obvious sign of aging?  "Oh, yeah, I had that done 2 years ago and I came out  'pffffffft............clean as whistle.'  Doc even gave me some pictures  too.   Just wait.   Yep, you know you are getting old when you schedule that appointment".    I'm sorry.  I consider this milestone as nothing more than getting your eyes checked.  Granted, it is a little more invasive in a more private area of your body, but,  I don't see anyone walking around with eyeglasses on their butt,  either.  Each part of the body has a job to do; this one just happened to be last in line when God handed out the assignments.

2) Thinking that relaying this tidbit would put some reader's minds to ease, I get the feeling that the full appreciation for the danger I expose myself to on a daily basis is not always fully recognized.  I can't worry about that perception, however,  My job is to do the best I can with the tools at my disposal.  And believe me, most of our staff are tools.

I have a few more to list as the week progresses.  In the meantime, I am working on planning for 2011.  Hopefully, these times can be viewed as  our all time low water marks.   

 

May the rhythm of the season dance through your soul

Following my post 10 days or so ago about the lack of meaningful Christmas cards arriving here at FTI, I was speaking to Gummo, the Balloon Boy whom asked if I had received his holiday greeting.  Gummo informed me that Christmas was a special time to him and that he had taken the time to create a personalized greeting specifically for me  that best reflected his personality, hobbies, dress, and demeanor in such a manner that would accurately reflect  his true being.

Sure enough, right on cue, the next day, I open the mailbox and find the card pictured here with a "Merry Christmas, Gummo" signature.   Immediately submitted to the  crack staff of the FTI Psychological  Profile unit, our team of experts were initially baffled by this card and it's meaning until a late night, "We're out of vodka.  How about mouthwash?  Do you have any of that?" breakthrough occurred that explained Gummo perfectly.  The untrained lay person would assume that Gummo is attempting a cheap ripoff of the Saturday Night Fever franchise.  Deeper analysis, however, reveals the true meaning of this person and his personality:  Gummo is a well dressed, elf-like adventurer/4th place finisher in a 3rd grade spelling bee fleeing the impending giant disco ball  about to crush him ala Indiana Jones while playing hopscotch.  And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, explains everything perfectly. 

It's Christmas Sunday

Hey c'mon, it's Christmas Sunday and tough enough to get this group to think during the week. The Misfits are still enthralled with the pieces of string and couple of paperclips they received for Christmas. I can't seem to gain their attention.

In the meantime, take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

Our giant after-Christmas clearance postings begins tomorrow (you know, the one's no one wanted to read in the first place). See you then.

Merry Christmas

'Twas the Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all ‘round the ‘tute
The dimwits were sleeping, the sight is not cute.
The restraints were hung by the chimney with care,
It’s for their own safety and general welfare;

The misfits were locked in their dormitory with beds,
They’re really no more than slow-thinking pinheads;
And Mrs Kfred in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
He’d be the one to visit our mentally sick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called the dimwits by name;
"Now, Freako! now, Gummo! and Dickie the Peap!
Wake up you slow whacko’s; you need no more sleep!

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
He knew of these idiots I suffer each day,
He couldn’t believe I had chosen to stay.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
Some brand new straightjackets he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Replacing old tethers with an all knowing smirk,
He knew the great burden I constantly bear,
Sometimes I think, "I’m in a giant daycare,"

"Now Kfred," he boomed, “Don’t Worry, Don’t fuss,
All people have seen them aboard the short bus,
Most readers know they are all mental midgets,
Their collective IQ is but one single digit”,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,
“I’m glad I’m not you:  None of those idiots seem right!”

(with profuse apologies to Clement Clarke Moore)

Maybe they will call her Slate-arina

Certainly not quite as meaningful as the birth of the baby Jesus, but, every bit as much to be considered  a "miracle" considering the participant, it is with great joy we announce the birth of Slateface's new daughter. Slateface sent me a text message/photo yesterday that had been taken in the early morning hours before with his new daughter.  Both Mother and child are doing fine.

I have mixed feelings about this event. Certainly, the young child is an innocent being that will have every chance and opportunity to become whatever she chooses to do in life raised in a loving and stable home. She will, however, be saddled with the burden of having lineage traced directly back to a known idiot who has some strange ideas about  fun and playing outside. God help the little Princess.

"And I held his penis!"

I had Christmas lunch with Dickey the Peap last week.  We have conducted this meeting  for the past 4 years or so as a method to both celebrate the Christmas Season and a chance to get lit up on a weekday afternoon (which neither of us do on a regular basis).   As I had duties pending back at Dilbertland on the day in question, I was not able to celebrate quite as hardily as I had hoped .  Additionally,  the little miser was under close orders to control himself as a similar outing earlier this fall resulted in both parties experiencing some faint memory lapses in regard to particular incidents on the afternoon in question, so, restraint was evident on both sides of the table.  (Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury:  I submit this key fact will be instrumental in your determination of authenticity at the conclusion of this posting).    For the record:  Dickey DID buy lunch.  There. It's official and a matter of public record.  I don't want to hear any whining or face any smarmy comments.  The short-armed one paid.  Reluctantly.  Slowly.  Hesitatingly.  Something about having extra funds after a relative/close friend hired Dickey to do some home remodel work.  And as everyone knows:  Friends and family pay double.    

As we were trading stories and insults, we reminisced about earlier experiences in our lifetimes.  Dickey was describing an earlier camping trip he took as a teenager with another friend of his.  Backpacking deep into the woods with nothing but a few staples, a backpack, and their wits, survival would be a test.   During the course of their adventure and returning to camp from a successful fishing trip,  young Dickey  happened upon a  young, male deer that had wandered into their camp. Our boy now decides that some venison stew sounds mighty appealing and that in order to have a tasty stew of this type, you need one particular key ingredient:  venison.  Armed with only a .22 rifle and without any hesitation, ol' Dickey Crockett drew the weapon, drops his pouch of $20 gold pieces to the ground as their sheer weight would affect his aim, flipped the tail on his 'coonskincap to the back of his head, draws a bead on poor defenseless Bambi, and blasts away.   (At this point in the recitation, I ask you, the reluctant reader, to pause for one moment and envision a deer in your mind in a geometric fashion.  A deer is basically a rectangle supported by four spindly sticks.   You would be hard pressed to hit anything but the big rectangle if you were to aim and fire at this shape.)    The resultant outcome is that old Deadeye shot the deer squarely--in the leg.  Bambi is now hopping around, bewildered, disoriented, and pissed off.  Young Fudd eventually stalks the wounded beast and finishes off the animal.  At this point, he  realizes that he has a quandary:  What do you do now?   Fortunately, Dickey's camping partner has some experience with field dressing an animal killed under such circumstances.  The intestines of the animal can be easily stripped by exiting  through the anal area of the beast. Great care must be made not to puncture the intestine so as not to ruin the meat.  With that in mind, the hunting companion began to expertly make the cuts necessary to avoid any contamination.  Logistics, however, required an extra set of hands in order to complete the task.  Based on the information you, the gentle reader, have surmised to this point I will leave to you to determine the level of participation and area of the animal that involved the assistance of  the Frugal One.

In the end (pun unintended), it seems to me that any future re-telling of this story would emphasize the appreciation for the freshness of the meat, the thrill of the sighting, or the luck in encountering an animal under these circumstances.  Instead, I have a feeling that this milestone serves only as the foundation for the name from which  Dickey was previously known:  Groper.

r u kidn?

I received an email notification yesterday from the good folks over at Twitter. The message informed me that "Cheru Jackson wants to keep up with you on Twitter". I don't use Twitter and I don't know any Cheru Jackson. I'm not sure if Cheru is male or female. Obviously, Cheru has not read the information in the "About FTI" tab located at the top of this page.  For either of our 2 loyal readers and the accidental reader whom may stumble our direction, here is some info from Twitters own page:  Twitter is a real-time information network that connects you to the latest information about what you find interesting.  At the heart of Twitter are small bursts of information called Tweets. Each Tweet is 140 characters in length.   Simply find the public streams you find most compelling and follow the conversations.  You can actually follow someone in real time as they announce to the world that they are standing in the toilet paper aisle at their local grocery store dithering whether to buy the normal 1 ply brand  or step up for an extra 60 cents and buy 2 ply.  It's that easy.  Okay, I made that last part up. 

I don't know quite what to think. Is this another ploy similar to the one that Jemma Clark was trying to pull earlier this year?  Is this someone I know who recently changed their legal name and forgot to inform me of their new identity?  I have a deep suspicion that Cheru is, in fact, an agent at a competitive Institute attempting to attain some type of inside information on us here at FTI. Honestly, as we attempt to toil in the utmost anonymity in order to avoid ridicule, I don't think we have to announce to the world our every move. And who would want to follow it anyway? Upon reflection, though, I realize there may be some folks whom simply don't have a life. (I, as Executive Director here at FTI, seem to be in charge of a bunch of them.) They have no need to better themselves.  They actually want to see someone else fail. I get it. So let me attempt to make a "tweet":

Gummo, tBB & DtP r lame.  both wanna pony 4 xmas.   we can't have any more animals.  R  rules limit # of equine.  we  alrdy have asses. 

 

Jukebox Bonus: A Small gift to you

it's Sunday Brunch

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and tough enough to get this group to think during the week. We get a day off too, you know. I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

Not a Creature Was Stirring

As we increasingly  receive fewer and fewer Christmas cards from friends, acquaintances, and state regulatory agencies each year, I have chalked it up to the fact that times have changed. Technology in the form of email, video chat, almost free cellular time, Twitter, and the like have allowed people to become in constant communication with each other across the globe. 

As this is only our second year in existence here at the Institute, I thought perhaps we should reach out and attempt to send a meaningful message to our constituents via a classy, thoughtful type of greeting and assigned my normally reliable and dependable Trusty/Asst. Executive Director, Giacommo, to fulfill the task.  I left it up to him to find the appropriate artwork and suggested that the message we wished to convey was that even though times are tough, the  Christmas Spirit was certainly not dead and we wished all of our recipients Happy Holidays. Somewhere in our communication of my intent, a short circuit occurred and my here-to-fore Golden Boy thought I said that the Christmas Spirit was dead and to wish everyone Happy Holidays.  Imagine my shock and surprise when I found a couple of leftover unaddressed cards pictured above in the FTI Mail Center.  Inside, the verse of  "No Matter how hard times get,  the freezer is full of venison; Wishing You the Warmest of Christmas Wishes, Your Friends at FTI."

Giacommo is currently on loan to the people  over at Hallmark.

Jukebox: Actual footage from our Christmas Party

Edukation at it's finest

I note that spell check is now going to be allowed for public school students in the state of Oregon in order to complete the mandated writing tests as required by the state. Obviously, there is controversy on both sides of the issue as one side is saying that spelling shouldn’t be used as the measuring stick to determine a student’s ability to write. The other side is saying that allowing this tool will not increase the competiveness of the student as they get older and start to compete for jobs in the adult world and have to submit written reports, logs, or other bits of information in relation to their employment.

Fortunately our cheap-assed Board of Directors recognized this threat early on and provided me with a tool to combat this prevalent problem: a dictionary. I just need them now to get me some type of tool to detect and eliminate the possibility of having too many Misfits associated with us at any one time. I’m thinking an oversized butterfly net.

The Wheels of Justice Turn, Oh, So Slowly

Two continuing legal obligations have taken up much of my time as Executive Director here at FTI, and as a result, I have been remiss in reciting the daily points of idiocy that I am in charge of to this point. At the end of yesterday, a new page has been turned in the chapter of the continuing FTI novel and we can now move on. The FTI legal defense team has done an outstanding job in parrying with our legal opponents and I commend them for a job well done. One of the cases involved actual direct testimony from me on the behalf of one of our team members, so, I was actually involved with determining the victorious outcome. I will relay that experience here today and discuss the other case in an upcoming posting.

I accompanied our resident thrift-miser, Dickey the Peap, to court yesterday to act as a character witness in his defense over a small traffic infraction. Dickey's personal vehicle had been involved in a red light running incident which resulted in a photo ticket mailed to his house as the owner of the vehicle caught on camera. The law in our jurisdiction assumes that since it's your car, it must be you driving it. Of all of the Peap-ed one's various character traits (frugal, cheap, closefisted, miserly, parsimonious, penny-pinching, penurious, pinching, spare, stinting, tight, tightfisted, etc), he is not dishonest.   Dickey had not driven the car in question and was, in fact, not the person responsible.  He requested his day in court to present his case.  In formulating his defense earlier, the scrimping one had planned to plead an ignorance defense.  (EDITORS NOTE:  This type of defense was actually written for our membership and has been apparently exploited for a number of years based on the action of these nitwits in the past.) With the assistance of the results that had been independently confirmed by the Factorcrap Truthometer Deluxe, (which were accepted by the court) and my expert witness credibility, the charge was overturned and the penalty vacated. 

The Perry Mason moment of the whole incident:   The prosecution's entire case revolved around the alleged infraction occurring at an intersection of a downtown corner where the bank is located with limited parking.  The judge rightly realized after my testimony that the Peap-ed one could not have possible been driving the vehicle in question to the bank.  The bank won't validate for free parking.     

It's Sunday Brunch

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and tough enough to get this group to think during the week. We get a day off too, you know. I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

A Little Holiday Humor

A full-on acknowledgment to the Green Comic for this one. His act is so erratic as most of the time his stuff is moronic and then, every once in a while, he hits it out of the park. Anyways, it's a pretty good gag:

Three men died on Christmas Eve and were met by Saint Peter at the pearly gates.

'In honor of this holy season' Saint Peter said, 'You must each
possess something that symbolizes Christmas to get into heaven.'

The man from England fumbled through his pockets and pulled out a
lighter. He flicked it on. 'It represents a candle', he said.

'You may pass through the pearly gates' Saint Peter said.

The man from Scotland reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of
keys. He shook them and said, 'They're bells.'

Saint Peter said 'You may pass through the pearly gates'.

The Irishman started searching desperately through his pockets and
finally pulled out a pair of women's panties.

St. Peter looked at the man with a raised eyebrow and asked, 'And just
what do those symbolize?'

The Irishman replied, 'These are Carols.'

Jukebox: I don't quite Remember It this way

You' ll Leave Today Feeling Empowered to Succeed!

In order to sharpen my skills, leadership abilities, and over all effectiveness here at FTI, I periodically engage in refresher courses of various subject to increase my worth and value as an Executive Director.  I am currently engaged  in a 2 day seminar entitled, "Racing for Mediocrity: the Quest for Survival in a Cruel World", and  subtitled, "How to Make the Most with the Idiots That Surround You".    

If I do say so myself, I seem to be a leader in the class at this time.  I have repeatedly had the right answers, relayed the most helpful experiences, and throughly impressed the  facilitator of the course.  After yesterday's first session, he pulled me aside to congratulate me and compliment me on how impressed he was with my participation.  We started talking about my actual experience and background.  After explaining my circumstances and describing how the Misfits  think and act, I have been granted a waiver of the enrollment fee and have actually been asked to conduct a seminar on his behalf in the future.   The reason for asking me to do so?  I obviously have greater expertise in this area than the moderator when attempting to  "Making the Most with the Idiots That Surround You. "

You guys sound just like the Mormon Tabernacle Choir

As mentioned last week, I have begun to assemble the FTI Doofus Squad in the hopes of creating some type of choir that could entertain people over the holidays.  Knowing that most groups can sing the simple standard Christmas songs,  I thought it might be a good idea to tackle some of the more complex Christmas hymns as a display of our progress in developing our advanced behavioral programs.    Apparently, that idea was not exactly original as some other competitive group of deep thinkers has beaten us to it and posted their highly impressive results on Youtube. 

It's not easy to perform before a large group in a spontaneous setting.  It's also not easy to  to have memorable results when the majority of your choir's singing ability is equal to that of Peter Boyle's speaking parts in  the Young Frankenstein movie, either.    After listening to our attempts to be like the above featured group, I  realize that perhaps we need to try something less challenging.  We're working on     "Up On the Housetop" currently, but, are having some difficulties with it as well.  The Misfits have mastered the "Ho, Ho, Ho" part.  It's the rest of it that's hard.   

It's Sunday Brunch

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and tough enough to get this group to think during the week. We get a day off too, you know. I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

The weekly struggle begins again tomorrow.  See you then.

I got your weather for ya right here

Is there any other possible comment for winter conditions than this?

Jukebox: Well, its half original

Hey, that's Odd

Some uncharacteristic events have been affecting us here at FTI. 2 events of noteworthiness include: 

• the repeated false alarm/failure signal coming from  the FTI wastewater treatment facility.   Normally transformed into our holiday wonderland and short track speed skating course during the wintertime, the wastewater treatment facility has recently been plagued by the damn alarm that keeps intermittently emitting a shrieking sound to signal a failed pump. I trundle  my ass out there, check to make sure that all is OK with the water levels (they're fine), reset the float, and think all is well.  6 hours later it starts all over again.  It really is nothing serious, but I am going to have to do something as the sound is definitely irritating, especially for fans of Gummo the Balloon Boy, as he races for the finish line coming out of the turn over in corner 3. 

• the breakdown of the 42" FTI plasma TV/entertainment system.  I don't watch a whole lot of TV.  The unit itself is barely 4 years old.  Suddenly last night, Mrs. Kfred attempts to turn the unit on to monitor the questions on Are You Smarter than a 5th Grader?  in hopes that perhaps the Misfits might have met a competitive level for us to be proud about (to this point, they haven't), and the damn TV doesn't work.  Mustering my deep electronic knowledge, I stand in front of the TV and turn the power switch on and off a couple of times.  Nothing.  I then search  the FTI resource library to find every owners manual of anything we have ever bought:  Electric pencil sharpener, 17 year old clock radio, 2 models ago  toaster, current refrigerator, hair curling iron (really, Dear?  The owners manual for a hair curling iron.  What the hell are we keeping this for!?) Finally finding the manual for the TV, I find the troubleshooting index and do everything I am supposed to.  Same result.  My fear is that the repair will be equal to the cost of a new TV.  Of course, the fact that what I paid over $2000 4 years ago can now be had for $699 brings me about the same amount of pain as I experience when I hear the initial practice sessions of the FTI Holiday Choir (we'll be discussing that in an upcoming post as well).     So, a call to the repairman today is in order. 

I will post updates to the results of these and some other troubling aspects as they occur.  I'm sure it's nothing that a few bucks can't fix.  I will be consulting with Dickie the Peap to see if we should repair or just revert to reading books by candlelight ala Abe Lincoln in the 1850's for entertainment.   After all, it's cheaper. 

The Season of Joy begins

In anticipation of the upcoming holidays and taking advantage of a break in the weather yesterday, I was able to get outdoors and start the preparation of decorating the Institute with outdoor Christmas lights yesterday.   Not wanting to repeat the fiasco we experienced last year when I instructed Gummo the Balloon Boy to decorate, I took it upon myself to plan the layout and put everything together. And, if I do say so myself, it came out pretty well. I have to do some upper second story work next weekend as the light faded before I finished, but, that's OK.  I'm not ready to turn them on this early anyway.  Regardless, it is a scene reminiscent of any holiday postcard. 

Now, if I can just get the Misfits to start behaving, we should be able to capture that special Kodak moment and not have something like this.      

It's Sunday Brunch

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and tough enough to get this group to think during the week. We get a day off too, you know. I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

The weekly struggle begins again tomorrow.  See you then.

Let's get out there and shop

Well, Thanksgiving is over. Now let the real sport begin.

I am off today to begin my Christmas shopping. Mrs.Kfred is out with a friend to go to the various holiday bazaar's for those "special and unique Christmas items.*" While she is determining the next got-to-have- Christmas decoration to be displayed here at the Institute, I am on my own for the personal gifts to find for the family and friends. This is always a struggle as I never quite know what to get for those people on my shopping list; they are such a hard bunch to shop for. Some suggestions: A Kindle reading device, a digital picture frame, a new office chair?   All of these are on my research list today.

I shouldn't complain, however.  Part of my holiday tasks are quite easy.  For instance, shopping for the Misfits is not too difficult.  The Green Comic will be  satisfied with the signed, yellowing copy of a script of a 1971 episode of the old TV show Hee-Haw; Gummo the Balloon Boy has lately taken an interest in modern art; I found a book on how to make figurines from earwax which should keep him enthralled for days.  Of course, following the spirit of giving a gift from the heart and rather than supporting crass commercialism, I made a gift for Dickie the Peap that I know he certainly will treasure:   a simple handmade chart detailing profit levels  based on a 200% labor rate mark-up for any jobs  he does for Friends and Family.  After all, if you can't charge friends exorbitant rates, how would you make any money?

In the end, though, it's the thought that counts.  Thankfully, I only have to exert a few thoughts for half of my shopping list.  I'll let you determine which half. 

*gaudy, useless candle holders in the shape of reindeer, etc.

Jukebox: There will be a lot of this, Today

A pause for thanks 2010

Once again,  today is Thanksgiving; my favorite holiday. I have never thought Thanksgiving has received the proper respect; it's more than a bump in the road on the calendar toward Christmas. Everyone is in a hurry on the highway of life, but, Thanksgiving is the "Reduced Speed Ahead" sign that safely brings our life priorities back into focus.  Mrs. Kfred and I are having dinner with Marv the Neighbor and his wife as we are childless on this family day.  Kfred Jr 1 and his wife, Goldilocks, are going to join us for dinner tomorrow instead as they are returning from visiting her family out of town.   Kfred Jr 2, again has too short of a turnaround time to be with us now, but, will be home later at Christmas. 

With those ground rules established, let me briefly recite some of the things I am thankful for:  First and foremost,  I am thankful for my wonderful life partner, best friend, lover, and thought compass for 29 years, Mrs. Kfred. I love you dear.  I am thankful for the above mentioned 2 offspring and our newest addition, Goldilocks,  She is a wonderful girl.  I am thankful for my job within Dilbertland.  Like any job, there are things you don't like, but they have been fair to me and have treated me well  (I know people whom are suffering with unemployment right now and one truly should be grateful).   I am grateful for my siblings: Brother Eddie, Gertie, and Ace.  Though separated by many miles, I actually think we are closer than when we were kids living under the same roof. Of course,  I am thankful for my friendship with  the  dimwits that serve as inspirational fodder for subjects posted here on a daily basis: the more than 30 year affiliation with the  "Trinity of Idiocy" consisting of Gummo the Balloon Boy, the Green Comic, and Rat Bastard G; that golfing hack, Dickie the Peap; my Assistant Executive Director/Resident Trustee, Giacommo; and the rest. With the antics and ideas that involve you, this is really easy to do on a daily basis.  Please, don't stop. And finally, the readers, I thank you.  Our 2 faithful readers continue to get in the act and are actually close to becoming part of the story.   To the rest of those whom are mistakenly directed to this site when they are searching for something actually meaningful to read, I apologize.  You have to admit, though, it is kind of like seeing an accident on the roadside.  Admit it:  you want to see a body, don't you?   Wherever you are, I wish you a great holiday and thank you for your support. I'll be back tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that.

My life is truly blessed.

An image makeover

I got off of the phone with  the Rat Bastard G yesterday whom informed me that he is tiring of his 5 week old goatee and is considering shaving it off.  I asked him why he wants to get rid of it so soon after growing it and he informed me he just wants to go another direction with his appearance. 

Initially, I thought the idea was kind of loopey in the first place as it does not quite match his persona as a fat, old, white rapper.  Oddly, his act as  an opener for the Green Comic, has been met with positive feedback.  G is kind of like a bad boy Barry Manilow:  crisp around the edges and kind of doughy in the middle.    Anyway, he doesn't seem to care about what his audience may think.  He is thinking of jettisoning it all. 

This conversation got me thinking.  Instead of ditching the goatee and re-embracing  his personna as the middle aged answer to the 90's rapper Vanilla Ice,  I think he ought to attempt to shift his direction entirely and become more like  Emperor Wang the Perverted character in the 1970's science fiction/porno parody  Flesh Gordon.  Obviously, there is risk in trading out your fanbase. And yes, you are going to need to come up with a new tagline.   In the meantime, you can always use the one that brought laughs for Emperor Wang:  "Up yours, Gordon". 

Your weather forecast with our slant

Under the terms of our original charter, our purpose here at  FTI is to engage in  alternative interpretation and observations of everyday life.  While striving to do so and to present the side of a subject that others may not have considered, we always feel that in doing so, the result will be an easy to understand and comprehensive analysis.  We take pride in that and think we do it better than anyone else.  We now, however,  may have met our match.

The Institute is located in a fairly temperate region where we receive occasional, scant snowfall totals during the winter season.  Many years, there is no measurable snowfall totals at all.  One of the reasons  Mrs. Kfred and I moved to this area was to leave a more vigorous winter area behind.  I don't mind snow, but quite honestly, if I don't see it again ever in my life, it wouldn't bother me a bit.      Over the last few days a developing cold front and approaching wet system have been forecast to collide over our area.  Of course, all of the television stations and local papers have led with these stories to stir people up and warn them to be prepared for the coming "arctic blast" (lows forecast to be 20-25 F).  The hard hitting reporting by the local media finally exploded with this earth-shattering quote from a meteorologist from the National Weather Service:  "cold air and moisture are the ingredients for snow".

A major hurdle for us here at FTI is to constantly find sites where our "affiliates" can be transitioned back to society with a minimum amount of disruption of their habits and thinking processes while housed with us.  I am pleased to announce we have entered into a working agreement with the National Weather Service  whom have allocated the next 2 vacancies within their department to be filled by former FTI personnel.  It should be a good match for both sides.

It's Sunday Brunch

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and tough enough to get this group to think during the week. We get a day off too, you know. I'm taking the staff out to Brunch. Every time one of the Misfits say, do, or think something stupid, they have to put a dollar in the jar. We call it our Brunch fund. And as far as I can forecast, there's going to be a lot of Sunday meals.

Just like Sunday Brunch, most of the stuff here is overvalued, pre-cooked, and have already been sneezed on  by some snotty 6 year old kid.  But, go ahead:  take a look here and see if any of these days old items are to your liking.  Like most places, our admonishments are the same:  "Take as much as you want, read all that you take".

The weekly struggle begins again tomorrow.  See you then.

I know it's out here somewhere

This individual actually  was our top candidate to head the FTI Valet Services until this unfortunate incident came to light and was ultimately passed over.   He is, however, still in consideration to be our answer to Kreskin during the midnight floorshow. 

Portland, Oregon-- Who among us has driven 2,000 miles, reported our wheels stolen and dropped $1,400 on billboards offering a reward – only to discover that we were looking on the wrong street?

Mark Walther of Oklahoma City says he's "mighty embarrassed."
On Nov. 9, after two days of driving, the 58-year-old retired municipal employee and U.S. Navy Reservist pulled into Portland to deal with his deceased sister's estate.

He stretched his legs, grabbed a burger, and returned to where he thought he had parked his trusty 1992 Toyota pickup.  It wasn't there.

Sure, he looked around. No sign. So he reported the old King Cab truck stolen.

But he wasn't ready to say goodbye to the truck, the mountain bike in the back, the Neil Young and John Prine CDs on the front seat, or the miles of memories.

After flying home, he put down $1,400 for two billboards with a photo of the green truck and a $5,000-reward offer (no questions asked).  He also placed a classified ad in The Oregonian: "2 time Iraq War veteran desperate for return of vehicle!"

Then, on Wednesday, a woman called Walther. She asked him to come move his truck so that she could rake the leaves piled up under it.   The woman, who spotted Walther's phone number on a piece of paper on the dashboard, lived about five blocks away from where he thought he parked.

Walther explained that it didn't help that he arrived in Portland after dark. "I got turned around in an awful way," he said.

"I'm usually pretty good at directions," Walther says. "I guess the Lord's not done teaching me lessons, so he's shoving a big one down my throat."

Jukebox: Where we get off

Waiter, there are some hairs on my plate

Citing this news story, an anonymous inquiry into any vacancies here at FTI has prompted a complete review of our admission policies.  We certainly have admitted less qualified candidates, but, I have a feeling the admission bar would be raised to an unsustainable level if these two guys made it.   


LAWRENCEBURG, Ky. — Two central Kentucky men were sentenced to probation in connection with a bizarre case in which a third man said he was forced to eat his beard after an argument. The Lexington Herald-Leader reported 47-year-old Troy Holt and 51-year-old James Hill were sentenced Tuesday in Anderson Circuit Court.

Harvey Westmoreland of Lawrenceburg had said Holt cut off his beard and forced him to eat it while Hill allegedly held a sickle blade to Westmoreland and his brother during the May incident.

Holt could not say why he made Westmoreland eat his beard other than that things "got out of control" after some heavy drinking.

He added, "I ain't got no excuses about what I done."

Hill had no comment after sentencing.