A bit fussy, aren't you?

I am currently bunking with the Rat Bastard G as our room reservation arrangements got mixed up while we are presently conducting the Lost Reunion Tour II. The Rat Bastard is easy to get along with as a roommate, however, as documented here on many occasions, his thought processes and mis-firing of brain synapses are their own case studies worthy of further research.

One interesting event that I helped formulate may, however, serve to confuse this issue just a bit more.   Between our daily performances we both choose to get a bit of morning exercise. This entails a 6 am or so morning walk in the neighborhood of around 2-3 miles to get the day started. Of the 2 days we have done this so far, I have encountered an elderly lady walking her dog. After our first day's walk, we had walked in to 7-11 to get a couple cups of coffee and head back. She looked at the 2 middle aged men in walking shorts and black socks thinking, "here are a couple of queens", and yet, politely said, "that coffee sure looks good". Yesterday morning, we repeat our exercise regimen again, but this time, the Rat Bastard opts out of the coffee and said he is going back. I decide I want coffee, go to 7-11 and figure I will buy the Rat Bastard one anyway, and begin to head back  juggling 2 hot coffees, when I run into her again. This time, she remarks "Where's your other half?" I was put back a bit, but decided that I could cement the Rat Bastard's reputation in the neighborhood by just answering, "Oh, he's waiting for me back at the house".  

As I explained to the Rat Bastard, I don't live in his neighborhood.  He has seen this particular woman on other occasions before and,  from now on, will be viewed as a member of the "diverse" community (not that anything is wrong with that.).    His lady's man reputation has not suffered on bit, except with one little old lady.  And that's Okay.  Maybe he can walk with her later, together.  She with her dog.  The Rat Bastard with his cat.   

Jukebox: Thanks for the VIP Pass Partner; It was a good show

Tour stuff here! Buy a memory of the show!

Atypical of my experience and expectations, I am in the final stages of launching the Lost Reunion Tour II today. Of course, the fact that the idiot Rat Bastard G made a key scheduling error will not deter us from the goal of having some fun. To recount the phone conversation:

RB G: Uh, before you say anything, I have some good news and some bad news.
Me: Uh-huh.
RB G: We're gonna have some more time to bond together.
Me: I don't need any of that. What's the good news?
RB G: Hold it! That is the good news!
Me: What's the bad news?
RB G: The Thorogood show is next week.
Me: You're an idiot.

The Rat Bastard had secured 2 tickets to a George Thorogood show and was planning, I assume, to demonstrate to me his competence and progress in advancing toward his goal of normalcy. After I booked my ticket, after I scheduled my vacation days from Dilbertland, and after I had gotten the green light from Mrs. Kfred to engage in this nonsense, did this key piece of info that the Thorogood show is on the 20th, not the 13th, surface.

On a brighter note, the Rat Bastard did notify me that our two official tour sweater vests did arrive safely and as ordered. Pictured above for your reference, you will note there are no graphics or gaudy printing on the vests. As the tour will only visit one city during one date, the Rat Bastard went ahead and hand-printed the date and city on the back with an indelible Sharpie.

Hey George, I don't need to spend $25 bucks for your lousy concert t-shirt. I have a vest that also looks good with a shirt and tie combo when I go to work. I just have to wear a coat to cover the back of it.

And the ice maker is Free

Wanting to do as much as possible for the local economy, Mrs. Kfred and I did our part yesterday on a lark and decided to spread a few dollars around by making a major purchase. Deciding that these kind of decisions are best made on a whim, we threw all caution to the wind, and decided, "ah, what the hell? Let's do it." Was it something fun, glamorous, and involved tickets to some far off locale? Nope. Something exotic, extravagant, and over the top? Hmm-mm. Ok, maybe something that would be interpreted as a midlife crisis type of issue and involve a new car? Not even close. Our purchase of choice? A refrigerator.

The FTI auxiliary meat-locker/beer cooler located inside the motor pool storage facility here at FTI suddenly met a mysterious demise this past week. I had suspected things were not right during my daily sampling and testing of the grain based sacraments earlier in the week.  Though Germans prefer to consume these sacraments at room temperature, I have never shared that same affinity.  Keeping with FTI tradition of excellence of deep analysis, careful consideration, painstaking research, and exhaustive testing, I realized the warm pickles were probably a good indicator that the 18 year old Amana had given up the ghost. 
Thinking we could probably move forward without an auxiliary  unit, I was quickly and decidedly shown the errors of my thought process by Mrs. Kfred and immediately  headed for Lowes.  Within 10 minutes of entering the store, we became  the proud parents of a healthy, humming, cute Frigidaire. Congratulations. 

Note to Fourth of July picnic guests:  Hope you are recovering from the mysterious stomach ailments.  Since none of you wanted to take it with you, we had to throw out the creme cheesecake.   

It's Sunday Brunch

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and I am tired.   We get a day off too, you know, so,  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".

See you tomorrow.

Never pick on a guy named Ali

If you ever wanted a feel good story, this is it.

I guess reading is not a requirement for this set.

Jukebox: George in a week

Please enter it now

Just a quick observation today:  Efficiency at some organizations never seems to work the way it is planned.   I have a perfect example.

I just got off of the phone with a customer service representative of the investment house where I keep my Roth IRA account. I have been saving throughout the year and made a small deposit  in order to hopefully insure my financial well-being after I retire someday from Dilbertland. (My account is nothing on the massive scale like Dickey the Peap's, but, hopefully it will grow to something large enough to keep the wolf away from the door in my old age. I would be happy with a simple 1/10 of the little miser's worth.)

Anyways, as I call them, I am instructed to "please enter your account number" into the phone so they may access my records. I dutifully perform that task and then am informed that "all client service representatives are busy with other callers and my call will be answered in the order of which it was received." OK, I can hang out for a few seconds. Sure enough, the guy then gets on the phone and asks me for my account number.   I already gave it to you! Why are you asking for it again?

It's really no big deal in the end; certainly nothing to get grumpy with the person on the other end of the line with whom you are trying to get assistance.  I give him my account number, he confirms my social security number, I get my problem resolved, and that is the end of it.  I do not understand his step of the process if it isn't going to be used during the process.  I have, however, decided to use it as an assistance tool whenever I get service issue calls from any of the Misfits here at FTI.  Upon calling, they are instructed to identify their particular FTI classification in order to best meet their needs.  Push  1 for Idiot, 2 for Numb-o, or 3 for Stooge.  Of course, all of their calls are ignored.   

It makes us much more efficient. 
 

    

Have a Happy Fourth

We're drinking beer and having a good time today.  We'll be back tomorrow. 

It's Sunday before the Fourth

Hey c'mon, it's the Sunday before the Fourth 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 Tuesday as we are celebrating the Fourth as well with a bunch of beer. See you then.

Dial 911 only in emergencies

I enjoyed a lunch and a game of golf with Dickey the Peap the other day. And, of course, I paid. To be accurate, I paid for lunch and the beer on the course. The little miser did claim to pay for my greens fees, but, I do suspect he probably browbeat the guy in the proshop so much that he let two of us play for the price of one just to get rid of him. Regardless, we played a round of golf and had an enjoyable afternoon.

During our play, Dickey did relate a story to me that I found to be very ironic. He and Mrs. Peap are doing some updating in their own home and were collecting bids for some new shades and window treatment accessories. A woman from a national chain store came to their house, did the appropriate measurements, and gave them a bid of well over $10K to do the various windows. Obviously, the poor woman didn't know whom she was dealing with and immediately suspected a medical case as the frugal one immediately developed profuse sweating, rapid heart beat, and shortness of breath. Suspecting an imminent heart attack, she immediately dialed 911 to summon medical assistance as she was sure our boy was going to die as he couldn't speak or make any coherent sense while trying to communicate and then suddenly passed out. Upon examination by emergency medical personnel, it was determined to be another  false alarm and nothing more than a good scare. The medical professionals on the scene noted in their call logs that this was another response to this same address as the countless ones performed before.  As a result, they have made a note  for use by the dispatchers when concerning any future emergency calls at this location:  AMMONIA CAPSULES USELESS WHEN USED TO REVIVE PATIENT;  PATIENT INSTANTANEOUSLY RESPONDS TO ROLLED DOLLAR BILLS , INSTEAD.  SUGGEST PERSONNEL FIRST STOP AT BANK WHEN RESPONDING TO THIS LOCATION.

Jukebox: OK, it's Disco; but, it's good Disco

If you can't say anything nice......

I have increasingly become concerned with the tone and civility of comments written by people on the internet to one another.  A number of news story  or opinion pieces articles have a section allowing for readers to comment and leave their thoughts.  I have wide interests and enjoy reading different stories to gain knowledge.    It's the comments, though, that tend to make me a bit disappointed. 

The fact that someone may misspell a word or use grammatically incorrect phrasing and language is, in my mind, no reason to attack the author of the comments.  It's fair to attack the argument; but,  not fair to attack the author personally.  We all don't have to agree on a single subject; there are various viewpoints.  Every issue has two sides to it; it's my job to investigate both sides and make my own determination.  Then, once I decide, I can sit back and read other people's positions, but, I don't have to feel I am superior to them.  I just disagree.  That's all. 

A majority of the subject material displayed here rarely generates comments or criticism for accuracy as everything is fully vetted through the Factorcrap Truthometer Deluxe before publication.  Oh sure, Dickey the Peap will consistently try to defend his short-armed ways when his practices are exposed periodically.  (The telling fact that the little miser still has yet to voluntarily buy lunch without intense prodding and therapy speaks volumes, but, we won't go down that path.)   By and large, though, my job is to observe, analyze, and report.  The fact that the personal attributes of the aforementioned Peap, Gummo, the Balloon Boy, the Rat Bastard G,  or any of the other Misfits happen to be  a) cheap;  b)  idiotic; or  c) mentally deficient,  has nothing to do with it.  They can't help it.  That's why they are here.   

Cue the snarky, smart-assed comments in 3...2.... 1

Hey, how come we don't have any roadies?

Rehearsals and planning are currently underway as I prepare for this year's edition of the Lost Reunion Tour II scheduled for later in July with the Rat Bastard G, the Green Comic,  and Gummo, the Balloon Boy. 

Though  last year's  initial run was an overall success, my desire is that I can somehow improve and build upon the event in order to strengthen it for years to come.  Some of my plans include witnessing the Rat Bastard croon some new karaoke material of old Frank Sinatra ballads,  thumbing through some old obscure Reader's Digest's from the '70's with the Green Comic to find some Laughter, the Best Medicine stories he can steal and use as his own, and attending an advanced balloon-tying art class with Gummo, the Balloon Boy, to show support as he advances his craft.   On a personal level, I hope to attend an all class high school reunion with some of the other fossils of my class from a million years ago and even catch a George Thorogood concert as well.  All of this with in a short 4 days time window. 

Advance interest as evidenced by advance ticket sales appears to be minimal.  This tour will not be canceled, however.    The Rat Bastard cleaned the carpets anticipating my arrival.  I wouldn't want to disappoint him.   

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.

Is this where "inner peace" is found?

Some people go to the mountains, the beach, or even just under a tree in the backyard to find solitude.  I didn't know this was such a tranquil setting. 
 
BOULDER, Colo. — Police in Colorado have arrested a 30-year-old man accused of hiding in the tank of a portable toilet at a yoga festival last week.

Kim Kobel of Boulder police says Luke Ivan Chrisco was arrested during an unrelated panhandling investigation Thursday. Police say an officer noticed his resemblance to the toilet suspect, and Chrisco was taken into custody after he was interviewed by a Boulder detective.
Police believe he was the man discovered in the toilet at the festival in Boulder by a woman who lifted the lid. A man who checked said he saw someone covered in a tarp inside.

A festival security officer says he chased a man who eventually emerged, but the suspect slipped away. The man was covered in human waste.

Chrisco faces misdemeanor charges of unlawful sexual contact and criminal invasion of privacy.

Jukebox: And I Still Am

The low-cost alternative

I recently discovered that Spirit Airlines is running a huge promotion in which they are offering one way fares to Las Vegas from my market for $9 each way. $9! Now, that sounds like a pretty good deal and I thought I would check it out a bit. Competitive airlines are charging $109, so,  even if I didn't go, I would book the flight and only be out a $20 bill if Mrs. Kfred and I changed our plans.

I have been mildly aware of Spirit as a low cost airlines, but, really didn't know their whole concept. Digging a bit deeper into the details and fine print, I figured there would be a few rules and restrictions but, wow, I had no idea. Yes, the fare is $9 each way per person. Want to actually sit on the plane? The ability to select a seat costs a minimum of $10 with the option to move up to a $50 "big seat" with more room.  (I guess you can't opt out of the seat selection process and opt to stand the whole flight and save money.  They charge you anyway.)    Bringing only a carry-on so you don't have to check luggage through and avoid the baggage charge? Uh-huh. That's a ten-spot, as well.  They are actually charging you to put stuff in the overhead bin!  Feeling like a big spender and figuring you will go ahead and check your flippers and snorkel anyway?  Yow!    That's another $30 per bag one way!   Additionally, the others fees, taxes, and government charges boosted it up another $74.  Suddenly, the deal didn't look so hot. 

I ultimately decided to pass on this offer, but, was a bit inspired with the thinking  and am considering adopting it here as a new FTI business model.  Admittedly, our work here is free as we enjoy our  non-profit status for tax purposes, however, I did extend the ideas a bit to our own methods in order to cover costs. For example, our initial analysis on any issue or situation would be free.  Do you  want it accurately identified?  $50, please.    Produced in a timely manner?  An extra $25 charge is added to the bottom line.  Roll out the Factorcrap Truthometer Deluxe for an honest confirmation?  That's another $100.  I could go on and on, but I think you get the picture. These kind of gimmicks just tend to turn people off.  Just give me a good bottom line price and quit nickel and diming people to death.  I have, however, instructed our financial department to offer one incentive to any future customer should they come our way:  any  deep analysis by Gummo, the Balloon Boy, would be free.     He never sits down to think clearly.   

A little victory lap

Have you ever had the feeling of having the cloud just lifted from you?  Suddenly, your world is viewed through an entirley different lens.  The little nagging things are no longer a bother; they are an inconvenience.  The bothers are now a challenge; they are something that can be corrected with a bit of work.   And the hopeless issues have disappeared.  They have now reverted to a challenge; again, something to be corrected with a bit of hard work.    That's it.  Nothing more. 

That's how I feel today.  Father's Day was relaxing, quiet, and stress free.  I actually will celebrate with my two fine sons, daughter-in-law, and Mrs. Kfred this evening.  I can get on with my life and fully intend to do so.  I can now turn my attention back to my work here at the Institute knowing full well I will not have a distraction in my life.  It's over.  We won. 

It's Father's Day Sunday

Hey c'mon, it's Father's Day Sunday. We get a day off too, you know. I'm not going out to Sunday Brunch today, but, rather celebrating tomorrow with Kfred Jr's. 1 and 2.

Just like Sunday Brunch, though,  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.

VICTORY!

It is 5:30 am on a Saturday morning. I have slept approximately a total of 4 hours last night and write these words in an excited, giddy state. I am still stunned and shocked.  The FTI Dopes trial is over and we have been judged as victors! We Won!

More importantly, not only have my neighbors and I won in our ongoing suit with the developer in our fight as chronicled here earlier, we won on all of the points we filed suit over and were also awarded attorney's fees!. Shifty, our lawyer, has told us from the very beginning it would be doubtful that attorney fees are ever awarded, it just doesn't happen.   Usually, most judges hear a case, decide it's merits, and render a decision with the thought that both sides pay their attorney fees to sort it out.  In our case, however, not only did the judge find in our favor, but announced that we had also been "substantially damaged" and ruled we were entitled to attorney's fees. Like, in upward of $150,000 in attorney's fees and this thing is not completely finished yet attorney's fees!  Now, I don't think for a minute that there is going to be a big ceremonial Publishers Clearinghouse Sweepstakes check with my name and the 150,000 smackers printed on the front of it. More likely, we are going to end up with some property liens and long term claims of monies owed.  But, that's OK.  This was never about money. It was about doing the right thing. 

I have voiced my concerns with the American legal system and all of it's weaknesses in the past.  It is not speedy; it is not efficient; and it is not easy.  And sometimes, it is not right. But this time; this time, it was right.  Not because I was the victor; rather, because an obvious wrong had been committed.  20 or so good, decent, people had been wronged by one individual.    And the wrong was corrected.  As it should have.        

Jukebox: Shame on You

Today in history

The FTI Dopes Trial resumes today where we left off from last week.  I am so anxious for this to all end  as I am unsure how much longer I can be asked to support the Lifestyle of the Rich and Famous type billings I am receiving from Shifty, the lawyer, to conduct this nonsense.  Shifty is doing a great job, but My God, this is costing WAY more than I ever dreamed.  Now, I am convinced it is the right thing to do, but it is expensive.  How expensive is it?  Let's just say this:  I am seriously studying the habits of Dickey the Peap (including the the thought of having elective surgery to shorten my arms so as to have difficulty reaching for a tab at dinnertime) in order to make ends meet.  Now that is drastic!  

On a totally unrelated note, the calendar reveals it is once again the second day past Flag Day ( or as we call it, Flag Day +2).  This can only mean one thing:  it is the Rat Bastard's Birthday.     Happy Birthday to our own oafish character.   He is a good sport to take the ribbing I direct his way with rarely a protest.  Admittedly, part of this is due to his inability to comprehend the written word; regardless, I note his birthday and salute him as well.  Happy Birthday, Partner.    

Our own Michael Jordan?

I currently am engaged in the middle of an investigation that could become scandalous and cause undue embarrassment to us here at FTI.  Ripped from today headlines, a similar event is brewing in which I am trying to sort out the details.

Recently, photographs of  Dickey the Peap, pictured  in a mirror wearing nothing but his underwear and flashing a handful of $5 bills, were discovered.   The embarrassment and shame of being compromised in such a manner is overwhelming to all of us.  This comes at a particularly unsettling time for the little miser as his continued insistence of not having sufficient funds to ever buy lunch has always been his out at tab-time. 

The little, short-armed one denied any knowledge of this whole affair, but, the facts don't add up and I immediately am placing him on an unpaid suspension until the facts become clearer.   As a result of this incident, he has agreed to go away for a short while to get some help.  Apparently, the Fruit of the Loom people  are contemplating legal action as well.  They're mad because they are now being referred to in some circles as "Nuts of the Loom".  Figuratively and literally.

Time for Sunday Brunch

Hey c'mon, it's Sunday and I am tired.   We get a day off too, you know, so,  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.

Yes. That's my mark.

My time on the witness stand is over.  In continuation of this week's theme and to cap our nearly 3 year drama, I had studied, researched, and prepared for countless hours for my turn to tell my story.  In the end, it all went so fast I didn't get a chance to relay all of the damning, smoking gun stuff I had accumulated.  Shifty threw me some softball questions he had shared with me in advance, so, I knew what was coming   His 30 minutes of questioning and confirming of my earlier deposition was fairly routine.  He did throw in a few last minute questions that surprised me only in the fact I didn't know they were coming and knocked me off center a bit as I had mentally prepared the sequence of events, but, it really was no big deal.  Then, I got to go face-to-face with Ms. Ding-a-Ling.  And it was game on. 

During this whole ordeal, I have been cast as one of either "instigators" or "ringleaders" of the plaintiffs.  (I actually prefer the term "Head 'Mo-Fo' in Charge", but, feel that may be a bit disrespectful in a courtroom setting which relates to another incident, but, I digress.)   Ms. Ding-a-Ling  approached the podium with her disorganized book of shit loaded for bear with her fangs bared.  I knew this was coming and felt confident, so, really wasn't too fazed over the whole event.  I was prepared to tell the truth and had proof to back it up.   Instead of opening me with a "Good Morning" or other type of  greeting, she immediately launches into a, "Now isn't it true......." line of questioning that puts a spin on an incident to make her client look favorable.  If you ever encounter a lawyer phrasing a question as "isn't it true?", I recommend you listen very carefully before answering because it most probably is not.  For the next approximate 30 minutes, we parried back and forth  and I held my ground consistently.  Then, out came the documents.

The whole basis of this lawsuit has been the denial of documents that pertain to a homeowners association.  State laws require that members be able to view them and examine them with reasonable advance notice.  I and my fellow plaintiffs have not ever been able to do so because they NEVER GOD DAMN EXISTED!   She gave me an exhibit "labeled as defendants number xx" and announced that it was a copy of an email sent to me by her client with a response by me in return.   I answered it looked similar to something I had.  "Similar?!  What do you mean similar?  This is an email with your response.  Is it your testimony that you have never seen or was not sent this document?" Now, her voice went up a full octave and the decibel level had risen a few points as well on that question.  I pulled out my copy and answered that it was indeed similar, but, not identical as mine had an additional paragraph from her client that had been removed that changed the whole meaning of the document.  Other than the deletion, the balance was the same.  I have to admit she didn't visibly flinch, but it definitely caught her off guard.  She immediately pulled out another document and asked me to authenticate it.  "Well, this one is different as well as it deletes your involvement in some of these incidents as well."  "My involvement??"  "Yes, see here.  My copy says these were "drafted by the attorney to protect", etc.  Your copy doesn't have the words, 'by the attorney'."  It was at this point the light went on that most of the shit she had copies of from the idiot developer have been doctored.   Like Lt. Tragg from the old Perry Mason series, I knew which document was mine.   The discovery earlier by other plaintiffs of this same type of behavior definitely was showing a pattern.  And I don't think she wanted to continue to be embarrassed. 

In the end, I was told it was the first time most people had seen a witness actually do better with the defense attorney that with their own attorney.  (I am not sure that was a compliment.) Shifty said I did a good job, but, that I owed the judge an apology.  I asked why and he mentioned that I had referred to the judge as "That guy".  Now, I do remember the comment as it was in the heat of testimony and I was feeling a bit frustrated with  Ms. Ding-a-Ling.  I was trying to explain something to her that she had been badgering me over and I started to speak faster and did indeed say that;  not to imply his lack of importance, rather, as a reference to whom were were speaking.  Anyway, after my testimony, I did make an apology in court to the judge for my comment and explained there was certainly no disrespect intended.     He graciously accepted it and that was the end of it.  I imagine he has been called worse before.

We're STILL not done.  We resume next Thursday and hopefully will be done then or on Friday.  Shifty won't commit  to a guess whether we will win or not, but, he does give a good pep talk.  I can't see how we will lose, but I am sure the other side feels the same.  I wish this was over.

Jukebox: What I am NOT doing

Objection overruled

Alas, My Perry Mason moment did not occur yesterday. 

As is typical of this entire story, everything got bogged down due to the inefficiency of Ms. Ding-a-ling and her rambling, unfocused, and belligerent questioning of some of my fellow plaintiffs.  As a result, I kept being pushed back later in the schedule and now am supposed to be first up to bat today. 

Yesterday did have some interesting moments as there were 2 incidents of altered documents uncovered.  One of my fellow plaintiffs was accused of parking his RV on his own property visible from the street (Whoop!  Thats a violation!) 6 months in advance of even having purchased it!  Ms. Ding-a-Ling pulled an instant 180 when it was discovered and that was the end of it.  I can't read the judge in all of this as he has a cold, stony, pokerface.  Shifty assures me that he has a brilliant mind and is taking this all into account as it occurs.  I hope so, because if I lose this thing,  I and my fellow plaintiffs, are going to be on the hook for a shitload of money in attorney fees.     

I write this with cold, clammy fingers; not from nervousness, rather excitement.  I cannot wait to tell my story and actually mix it up a bit with Ms. Ding-a-ling.  I hope no one wants to shake my hand. 

Do you swear to tell the truth............

Well, today is the day.  My explosive, blow this case wide open, God-Country-Applepie and Motherhood moment is upon me.  I get to tell my story after 5 years of nonsense. 

That is, of course, my Walter Mitty moment. Actually, I do know that a lot of court action is a slow, boring, monotonous passing of time.  I have refreshed, reminded, and restudied all of the salient parts of my story to present in a clear and concise manner.   I have to guard against becoming emotional and angry because, though, it makes good TV, it really is not effective in court.  You want to be factual, cool, and ultimately, devastating.  

I can't wait. 

It was Tuesday; we were talking to a guy........

Not to be confused with the historical landmark 1925 Scopes Monkey Trial, in anticipation of the upcoming FTI Dopes Trial, I had a dream last night that I was being questioned. Instead of being cross-examined by Miss Ding-a-Ling, the defense attorney, I was subjected to a Dragnet like inquiry and examination by someone. I didn't recognize the character and  I do not expect this type of treatment  in real life when I testify tomorrow, but, it was kind of odd. I'm not the one being accused of wrong doing.  I have done nothing wrong. 

"So, you are the guy that founded this "Institute".  Is that right?"
"Yeah, What of it? "
"What do you do there?  What's it's purpose?"
"It's designed to advance and share some alternative thinking."
"How's that?"
"Look, I just observe what I see and write about it.  Nothing more.  I can't help that these guys are idiots." 
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." 
"Look,  Mr. "Executive Director".  It's people like you who make fun of the Gummos, the Rat Bastard's, the Dickie the Peap's of the world. You whine about their actions within your little organization;  the weak-minded, the mentally feeble, the cheapest of them.  You created them. You collected them. Now, they are yours.  You own them.   Got it?"
"But,  I never thought I would end up being responsible for them!"
"No,  I bet you didn't, smart guy.  Sure it's easy to deny any responsibility; take cheap shots, embarrass this group.  Point out their weaknesses.   But in the end, it's guys like you  that guys like me have to clean up after."
"Yeah, how?"
"We use them for stiffs in the morgue.  They're dead from the head up anyway."

Call your first witness

I am in earnest preparation for the upcoming FTI Dopes Trial which is scheduled to begin today. Pre-trial motions and arguments are scheduled to be heard this morning over which evidence will be allowed and which will be excluded with testimony starting tomorrow. I am scheduled to testify on Wednesday.

I have purposely been vague over this whole matter and decided until the last minute to discuss the whole issue. (The attentive reader will remember the significance of this post from a year ago. I feel the same way today.) In a nutshell: The FTI compound is located in an area that is governed by a Home Owners Association  (HOA). I decided to locate the Institute here with the understanding that some day I could employ my Executive Director experiences to help lead and direct this group of neighbors and (as time has worn on through this process,) friends.   The guy I bought the property from is very reluctant to give up control of his little kingdom and has made life very difficult for the entire community to the point that a lawsuit was filed to end the nonsense.  To date, collectively a bit more than $130K  has been expended in legal fees by our group of 16 to fight this clown.  (I will let you do the  math to determine it has been a BUNCH of money to Shifty, our lawyer.)   Anyways, after nearly  3 years of delays, denials, and deferrals,  (see, I know how to play the legal game) the stage is set.  We get our day in court. 

I offered the services of the FTI Truthometer Deluxe for use in the courtroom to help determine the truth should any conflicts arise.  I was politely rebuffed as it was considered to be a prejudicial piece of equipment.  Prejudicial?  Old, slow, confusing, and ill-informed, maybe.  (Wow,  I just realized that describes Dickie the Peap, as well.)  But prejudiced?  No way. 

Truth, justice, and the American Way.  It's not the easiest, the cheapest,  or the most efficient.  It is, however, the best.

Jukebox: Could this be the real thing?

Blackberrys are for jam, not talking

Having successfully transferred all of the information and converted my old phone with all of the necessary settings back for use as my primary form of communication, I am now ready to once again join the digital world. 

Back in November, the folks at Dilbertland forced me to purchase a new Blackberry or iPhone as my primary communication device.  This mandate  was made because of an upgrade in the internal email system in Dilbertland and the requirement of an outside support vendor to record other information that was not compatible with the model of phone I owned at the time.  The problem with this requirement was that there was no corresponding allowance or  compensation given to us to convert to something else.  Any purchases made to meet the mandate was to be made at own expense.   (Subsequent research indicates that the Dilbertland Chief Financial officer is a distant cousin of our own Dickie the Peap.  Cheap truly does  run through family bloodlines.)  I was in the middle of a phone contract and was forced to either break the contract and pay all of the attending exit fees or buy another phone to replace a perfectly working one at the time.  Not happy with this dilemma, but, having no choice in the matter, I opted to buy the Blackberry Storm 2 which I recommend no one to ever, ever, buy as  a phone of choice.   I had  chip on my shoulder going in and never embraced the Blackberry system as so many people have. 

Knowing that  the FTI IT team (the most despised department at FTI) didn't have the knowledge, ability, or lucidity to assist me in figuring out how to make the other phone compatible with all of the corporate requirement, I finally figured out a way that I can ditch the Blackberry and go back to what I had before when I was happy; when life was good; when I was satisfied.  I wonder if I can employ those same methods in dealing with the Misfits.     

I'm back in the Saddle again

Safely ensconced back  here at the FTI Executive Directors Living Quarters, I have assumed full duties and responsibilities after my 13 day excursion. Fortunately, nothing of any meaningful significance occurred (TRANSLATION: Same old, same old) which I give complete and total credit to my able-bodied Assistant/Trustee, Giacommo for his steady hand at the FTI wheel while I was gone. Good job, son. I  do note that the fluid levels in the bottles of the ceremonial Executive Director sacraments were noticeably lower, but do accept your explanation of testing the effects of evaporation in the atmosphere and your experimentations, therein.   (Regardless, I am recommending to the cheap-assed Board of Directors that his status be upgraded to Assistant Director in Waiting, Level 2. Though certainly not an increase in any type of compensation, the prestige and title alone should allow him to take advantage of the super prices offered on any mattress at any of the 100's of locations of  the Sleep Universe superstores located across the United States. Congratulations.) 

So back at it I begin.  The Rat Bastard is incommunicado, Slateface has had a birthday and Dickie the Peap, ever thinking of ways to save money,  suggested I wait until after his birthday to see if I could get a card half off.  I failed to point out to the  little miser that the greeting card industry has developed a product known as a "Belated Birthday" greeting to combat this type of thinking, but alas, these are the condition under which I work.  In other words, nothing has changed.  I just got a 13 day reprieve, that's all.  I'll take it.     

We Honor you

Remember these guys.

They have been protecting our right to do this kind of stuff for nearly 250 years.

Now this is a roadside attraction

(DES MOINES, IOWA)-On the road through the heartland and America has been quite entertaining.  Hey, we've gone through Williamsport, Pennsylvania, home of the Little League Hall of Fame.  Let's stop there.   Nah. Booooring.   Oh, Canton, Ohio is just a few miles off of our route.  Let's swing down and visit the Pro Football Hall of Fame.  Uh-huh, couple of old footballs in a trophy case.  As we swing through Elkhart, Indiana, however, I note the sign announcing Elkhart as the home of the RV Hall of Fame.  That's right;  Elkhart has a Hall of Fame devoted to RV's!   Now, we're talking, baby!  Home of he largest RV in the world, the most hours spent on the road by a driver, and my favorite, profiles of some of the greatest owners in RV history.  These guys are legends:  who will ever break the 7.8 second world record of Emptying the Dump Tank held by "Flushin'" Frank Grabowski of Mesa, Arizona?  This guy is the Michael Jordan of the RV world.  I just wish he was available for an autograph.  I would insist he wash his hands first, though.      

On our journey to greatness

(LIMA,OHIO)-I am currently located in a non-descript Holiday Inn Express, beat after a full day of driving nearly 580 miles from New York City through the entire length of Pennsylvania, almost across Ohio, stopping here outside of Toledo. We are headed for the FTI compound with arrival scheduled later this weekend with a proposed stop along the way at one of our nation's treasures and my personal inspirational monument, Mount Rushmore.

My hope is that if I can get some good pictures of it from my personal camera, I can then post them in the FTI staff lunchroom as a reminder of the great deeds and leadership milestones performed by great men in history. We do have one currently, and though I feel it is reflective of our current staff's abilities, I think we can strive for something greater than a 3 Stooges poster. 

The 47 month journey is over

You gotta love it. 

After 4 years of intensive immersion in classes, training, discipline, physical rigors, and military awareness, it all comes down to a 2-hour graduation celebration and the tradition of the tossing of the hats.   And then "we" are outta here.

A little known fact is that many times, the graduates place a picture, small memento, or even cash inside of their hats that the children in the audience race to  later collect.  I have no idea what Kfred Jr. 2 put in his cap, but, you have to think that no matter the amount of money placed in the hat never to be seen again, it is money well spent.  Unless you are Dickie the Peap.  In that case, no money ever to be seen again is money well spent.  It's money that will never be seen again.   Rumor has it that when the little miser graduated from High school a million years ago, he put an IOU in his cap.  3 subsequent generations of family that originally recovered that hat have been trying for 60 years to collect on this obligation, but, so far, the short armed one has evaded the responsibility of doing so.   I don't think anything is going to change. 

Regardless, young man, congratulations and well done!   

One of many,
one of few,
a proud nation awaits you.    

It's Graduation Sunday

Hey c'mon, it's Graduation Sunday. We get a day off too, you know. I'm taking the family out to Brunch and celebrating.

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 and the roadtrip across America starts Tuesday.  See you then.

Jukebox: Class of 2011 Song "For Freedom We Fight"

I am outta here

It is currently 3:20 am local time, the full moon is shining brightly into the Executive Living Quarters here at FTI, and I am finishing up my last minute duties before departing for my near 2 week Excellent Adventure. I have successfully located Giacommo, my able-bodied Assistant/Trustee, performed an emergency renewal- oath affirming ceremony, and transferred the doomsday scenario codes as a precaution should anything go terribly wrong in my absence. With all of that said, I can rest a bit easier.

At the direction (no,  that's not it)  insistence (uh-uh, that's not it either) "suggestion" of our Institute Safety office, Mrs. Kfred,  3 various clock alarms; one electrical, one  battery operated cell phone, and one sundial (though the actual accuracy of that device is suspect) were set  "just in case" we happened to sleep through so not to miss our departing flight this morning.  I have NEVER overslept on any occasion for ANY event that I woke up tearing around the house like a mad man trying to meet a schedule.  That is funny in the movies and on TV, but it has never happened to me.  I just have a built in internal clock that does not allow for it.  Immediately identifying that this issue  could become a major flash point of disagreement at the last minute that would result in a 6 hour cross country "quiet" flight, I immediately evaluated my options, chose the most prudent course of action, and  acted accordingly in a matter best described as :  "folding like a cheap tent."  Leading by example and exhibiting the type of signature thinking we have become known for, I drank 4 glassfuls of water insuring  that I would have to get up sometime in the middle of the night to relieve myself gambling on the odds that it would occur before the expected time of awakening.  And just like magic, my idea worked perfectly.    We are up in plenty of time, there are no evident disagreements to this point, and all is proceeding according to plan.

I do note, however, that before we use it again a new mattress pad will be needed to be purchased for use on the bed.        

And we don't even charge a Dollar

The pre-departure checklist of things to do before I leave is being shortened on a continuous basis:  re-reconfirmation of hotel reservations (under strict orders, I know better when to conform rather than argue), pre-flight check-in (oops, more than 24 hours before departure, no can-do), collection of clothes, shoes, toiletries, chargers, sunglasses, etc.  All good.  Remembering to pack rain parkas purchased at Dollar Tree store.  Affirmative.  Everything looks good. 

The Dollar Tree Store is an interesting place.  Other than buying an occasional theater  boxed size of candies for a snack, I rarely go there.   As the name implies, everything in the store is one dollar and since I wanted to plan for inclement weather, I figured I would pick up a  few rain ponchos for our party to hand out; if it rains I am covered, and if not, I am only out a few bucks.   I trust they will be sufficient to be pressed into use if needed.  The more I think of it, however, I begin to have some doubts.  I mean, come on now, can any of the items other than the food or cleaning  materials be that good if they are only a buck?  Logic dictates that some of this stuff is going  to be cheap junk.  Having trouble reading and need some reading glasses?  No problem, here are a pair of glasses for just a buck.   Need some inexpensive tools to throw in the jockey box in the car in case of emergencies?  Here are a screwdriver and small wrench.  One dollar each, please.  I really didn't look that closely, but, I swear I saw  pregnancy test kits in their as well.   Now, whom are you exactly testing the pregnancy status of and what is the reliability of this kit if it only costs a buck?  Is this a goldfish test pregnancy kit?  For a buck?

The business model seems to be successful as there are a couple of national chains that compete in this arena.  I guess people will buy anything if the price is right, regardless of quality.   I just don't think it is for me.  After all,  I offer thinking and observations for under a dollar on a regular basis and have 2 faithful readers to prove it.    There is always someone willing to use your product if the price is right. 

        

The Countdown is On

I am currently developing some type of emergency transfer of powers clause for insertion into our FTI bylaws in order to make it look official should there be any question in the future concerning legitimacy. Legally, this act is a crime and called "Forgery by Insertion", however, Shifty, my lawyer, has given me the wink and nod and told me to go ahead and do it.   You see, I am preparing for an extended absence from FTI for the next 2 weeks to attend and celebrate the graduation of Kfred Jr. from West Point and have failed to locate my part-time, able-bodied Assistant/Trustee, Giacommo and inform him that he will be needed and pressed into action during my absence. Inserting this clause will cover my ass if I fail to locate the little knucklehead  and have to institute emergency martial law powers decreeing that all activity is suspended until further notice.

Mrs. Kfred and I leave Wednesday and I hope to return around Memorial Day. The actual Graduation is this coming Saturday, but, we are going to hang out in New York City for a few days and then Jr. 2 and I are going to conduct a road trip from NY back here to the FTI compound on the West coast via car. I am actually looking forward to it as I hope to visit some inspirational historic and cultural sites along the way that have meaning to our Misfits here at FTI. Of course, there is Mecca: The Ripleys Believe It or Not Odditorium (God, I love that name. I wish I had thought of it) in Times Square in New York City; the 2 headed calf described as "8 eyes, 8 nostrils. In the basement. Fabled Freaks of the National Road" in Brookville, Ohio;  the "worlds largest Ball of Yarn" in Cawker City, Kansas, "Carhenge", a Stonehenge replica made of junked cars in Alliance, Nebraska, and other "gotta sees" along the way.  I can't wait.  Of course, all of this is done for professional purposes are are going to be itemized on next year's FTI tax return as being pursued for educational purposes only and counted as a legitimate deduction at that time.  I can't wait.   

Like the lasagna that is prepared 2 weeks ahead of time and put in the freezer when you know you will need to offer it to the family when someone is about to die, I have pre-prepared (?) some posts for future publication.  Unlike the lasagna, they will be fresh and appear to have been made just that day.  I have wound down all of our official FTI commitments during that time, so, expect Gummo, the Balloon Boy, the Green Comic, Slateface, and the rest of the Misfits to do what they do best during this time:  Nothing.    I won't have to worry about them.  After all, I have to figure out the true meaning of Carhenge.

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: Hey, it's not my fault

In a stunning turn of events, the genius IT guys at Blogger (our internet hosting service) discovered a problem with their network and had to call in extra help to repair the problem resulting in the removal of some earlier posts and the inability to add anything new for the past few hours.    Unfortunately, it appears that the incompetency of those they called in is equal to, or exceeds,  our own IT loser members here at FTI.  Our own IT team (the most reviled department at FTI) have long been known for bumbling, dopiness, and flat out stupidity.  I hope they don't suffer the same sort of long-term embarrassment as we have over this display of incompetence. 

On another note, I offer this Friday jukebox selection as an appropriate choice 

2 Brothers of a different mother

I read where an Olympic swimmer from Australia recently took some time off during training at the beach and decided to have a bit of fun. He dug a huge 7 ft hole around himself in the sand when suddenly the walls collapsed around him and he got stuck. Fortunately, rescuers were able to free him, but, not until after 2 hours of strenuous work to do so.

This incident reminds me of a similar  incident involving the Green Comic.  Green is widely accepted as the standard for and regarded as an expert on, (court certified, mother-approved) matters of idiocy.  Having been recently absent of any noticeable activity he is now once again posting, on his Facebook page, repeats of past observations.  Not only  does he steal other comedian's material, but, now is stealing his own and offering them up as new stuff.   In this case, "The Best of the Green Comic" is in fact, the worst of his prior material. 

Technology: coming to your house soon

I note that the Green Comic has finally attained his own direct internet connection at his residence versus hijacking the circus's bandwith for his own personal enjoyment. Now, instead of downloading and stealing material not only written or delivered previously, (while wasting time on his employer's behalf as well) he can do so at his own leisure with no fear of job related retribution.

Welcome, Green. To the 21st century. You're only 11 years behind.

It's Mother's Day

Hey c'mon, it's Mother's Day Sunday and tough enough to get this group to think during the week. We get a day off too, you know. And because no Mother in her right mind would claim any of these idiots, I am taking the staff out to Brunch.

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. 

Edison would be proud

I am happy to report that we are now functioning at 100% efficiency levels following the correction of our small electrical incident of 2 days ago.

Having decided that calling in a professional would be the wisest choice of action, I contacted an electrical contractor and scheduled a repair. As I couldn't seem to convince any of the local electrical contractors that this was a major, code-red emergency in need of their immediate attention, the best I could come up with was a home visit 24 hours after I made the initial phone call. (EDITOR'S NOTE: Degrees of emergency are subjective. Obviously, electrical contractors in this area are quite adept in ascertaining the difference between true emergencies and "vanity calls".) I thought I would attempt one more repair before the electrician showed up by purchasing a new breaker switch for install in the panel box in lieu of a visit by a true professional. Still no change in status. Completing this task, I quickly realized my problem was much bigger. Now a professional would have to trace each outlet in the area in question to determine the open source. That task would require some time and also, in Dickey the Peap terms, moolah, dinero, funds, cashola. If nothing else, I have learned from the little miser that these valuable resources are best left to joyfully dive into and repeatedly counted rather than transfer to an electrician. In one last gasp of an attempt, I plugged in an electric clock into each outlet and found one that behaved, like our staff, oddly. The clock suddenly flashed to life, then just as quickly went dark. Basic electrical knowledge dictates that there should be no current at all if the circuit is open. Yet, I was getting an intermittent flashing of the clock by wiggling the outlet itself. Removing the face plate and then the outlet, I discovered a lead that was not securely attached to the plug. I reattached the said wire and everything once again functioned as designed. My world was complete. And I just saved 200 bones. The Nerve Center once again is in operation.

I called and canceled my appointment with the electrical contractor. I think the receptionist was as happy about the cancellation as I was, though I am sure, for different reasons. I am happy to be up and running all at the cost of a bit of minor inconvenience. I think she was happy she didn't tie up a half a day's time to address a problem that was noted on the job order as "Description: Doesn't Make Sense".

Jukebox: Only In one Room. I don't understand.

It's labeled "ON"

I have been out of town doing work on behalf of the good folks of Dilbertland and, as a result, did not bring my computer with me.  I am now back, but, am now experiencing other difficulties which are resulting in some transmission difficulties. 

Having arrived at the compound in the early evening from completing my duties, I immediately headed for my Executive Living quarters (aka the FTI Nerve Center) and discovered that we were without power in that area of the compound.  I am currently posting from my auxilary backup laptop in order not to break the continuity of the excellence in thinking, not withstanding our recent 2 day absence.  Regardless,  the well rounded Executive Director that I am, I immediately began the electrical investigation routine so common with most people:  I wiggled the plug at the wall.  Nothing.  Waiting for another 5 minutes and thinking that something must reset in that time, I repeated the step above.  Same result.  I quickly realized that I would most likely have to move to second level diagnostic tests and hearkened back to my training when I was a youngster under the tutelage of my Father, an electrician by trade and our Emeritus Executive Director, in  Memoriam.  This procedure consists of the collection of various electrical tools, a volt meter, some baling wire, and psyching myself into a mindset that usually involved a bunch of swearing.  (I never did know what the wire was for, but, that man could fix most things with baling wire.).  Having none of these tools except the ability to swear, I went to the panel box in the utility area of the compound, removed the framebox and located the appropriate circuit breaker labeled "Nerve Center" and flipped the breaker.  Nothing.  In the meantime, Mrs Kfred is ably assisting me in the task to get in the swearing mood by repeatedly yelling "Nope, Nothing's happening!" while I run  through the diagnostic checklist.   Having spent approximately one half hour with no positive results, I am throwing in the towel and calling a professional out to look it over. 

In the end, I suspect I have a bad breaker.  I noted there was no spark when I pulled the breaker in question and re-attached it into the panel box.  Nothing that, I'm sure, a $100 service call can't fix.  I do find it odd, however that the original electrician in question chose to label this area as the "Nerve Center".     Should we ever suffer some sort of sabotage by members of a competitive thinking organization, this would be the logical place to attack first.  Normally, most organizations think of their members as their most valued parts and see losing them as the most damaging thing that could affect their abilities to compete.  Should some other organization try to lure away Gummo the Balloon Boy or Dickey the Peap to think for them, logic would dictate that this single act would bring our work to an end.  Not so.  Just flip the switch on the Nerve Center Breaker.  Everything stops.     

 

Ah, I see you have a reservation

I by no means think that the recent news of the killing of Osama Bin Laden indicate that the "good guys" immediately win the war on terror. It does, however, make a lot of people feel much better. And I am one of them. Couldn't happen to a better guy. And now,  back to our regularly scheduled programming:
_____________________________________________

 Marv, the Neighbor sent this one along.  I thought it was pretty good.  I can tell it with no fear of retribution as Mrs. Kfred is a "Cat-Lick" and she thought it was pretty good. 

Sister Mary Katherine entered the Convent of Silence.


 The Priest said, 'Sister, this is a silent monastery. You are welcome here as long as you like, but you may not speak until directed to do so. '

Sister Mary Katherine lived in the monastery for 5 years before the Priest said to her, 'Sister Mary Katherine, you have been here for 5 years. You may speak two words.'

Sister Mary Katherine said, 'Hard bed.'

I'm sorry to hear that,' the Priest said, 'We will get you a better bed.'

After another 5 years, Sister Mary Katherine was summoned by the Priest. 'You may say another two words, Sister Mary Katherine.'

'Cold food,' said Sister Mary Katherine, and the Priest assured her that the food would be better in the future.

On her 15th anniversary at the monastery, the Priest again called Sister Mary Katherine into his office. 'You may say two words today.'

'I quit,' said Sister Mary Katherine.

'It's probably best,' said the Priest, 'You've done nothing but bitch since you got here.'

Jukebox: It doesn't always Fly

It's a long time coming









A disappointing announcement came through yesterday that just seems to defy all type of logic.

The 2011 FTI Dopes Trial has been postponed for another month due to, according to the administrative clerk of our county, "circumstances beyond our control". I have no idea what that means. Did our retiring judge choose to upgrade to the "premium" package and opt for an additional 7 days on his retirement cruise? Has the idiot defendant once again gamed the system? (I find this scenario unlikely as I am sure Shifty, my lawyer, would be all over this one.) All I know is that we are now out one more month, the first week of June, to once and for all settle our wee bit of controversy.

I assigned the idiot members of the FTI IT Department (the most reviled department here at FTI) to create some type of countdown clock to post on our page (if, for nothing else, my own satisfaction and as a reminder to how long justice truly takes in our society). So far over 24 hours of brainstorming, they have come up with the brilliant result pictured above. I summarily rejected this idea and demanded something a bit more high tech, but, allowed it due to our pressing publishing deadline this morning. I cannot, however, fault them for their description of the measurement of time.  This description truly portrays a long, long time.   

Oh, It's that kind of Trunk Organizer

Apparently not thinking our cause was worthy or having read our letter a scant 9 months ago explaining so, I got another request from A. Barry Rand, Executive Director at the AARP, in the mail yesterday to once again join his organization. I thought my well reasoned, clearly thought-out, succinct letter spelled our position in detail that anyone could understand.  Alas, A. Barry, even your bribe of the FREE Trunk Organizer is simply not enough to pony up the annual $16 to be a part of the Old Folks League.  I do,  however A., want to  introduce you to a fellow whom also sent me a request to join his organization as well yesterday.  Perhaps the 2 of you should speak with one another.  Really, the fact that your 2 letters arrived in my mailbox at the same time was kind of interesting.  Anyways,  he won't bite.  His name is John.  John:  A. Barry.  A. Barry: John.

John's request was a 2 page letter that didn't offer me anything as cool as the FREE Trunk Organizer.  He was also much more aggressive in asking for money. 3 times in his message he implored me to send $25, $50, or $100 to his organization to help them meet their goals as well.  He buttered me up by calling me a leader, explained his goals,  and then thanked me for all I have done and for what I continue to do.   Our work here at the Institute is fairly non-descript and so I was a bit surprised that he even knew of it, but, there it was.  In writing.  On his own personalized stationery.  A letter from John thanking me for my efforts and asking for some money.  I tossed it as quick as I tossed old A. Barry's request.   Someone always has their hand out looking for money.

It's funny.  We have been toiling here on a very modest budget since our beginning.  I actually have been thinking of applying for a government grant to continue the fine work we do here.  Knowing the current budget process is trying to identify as much unnecessary and wasteful expenditures, I guess I would have to make a strong case in order to receive any  of this money.  I would have to have an "in" with someone; I would have to "know" someone at the top that could streamline the process and cut through the bullshit. I went back to the garbage and pulled John's letter back out and then it hit me.  I do know someone.  I know John Boehner, the Speaker of the House!  He wrote to me.  We're pen pals. 

I wonder if I will get a piece of real ivory if I send money. 
  

It's Easter Sunday

It's the Holiest of Days in the Christian Religion.  And just like our idiots seem to celebrate their own type of  religion, we take time to pause and celebrate as well.  I'm taking the staff out to Brunch.

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.

Easter Bunny Go Home

For only the fourth time in what seems about 2 months, it is actually bright, light, and a sunshine filled morning today. I intend to get outdoors and plant some new vegetation that has suffered over the winter.

I have suspended our normal FTI Easter Egg Hunt/Beer Garden Plaza Event after the results of last year's fiasco.   We didn't get all of the chicken legs collected and the resulting rotting of meat attracted wild animals  and produced a horrible smell which was initially mistaken as emanating from  the FTI wastewater treatment facility.  Regardless, it's a new day and a new beginning.

For his sake, I hope the Easter Bunny doesn't think he needs to stop here.  There is enough make believe going on.  We don't need any more. 

Jukebox: Now where is that bunny suit?

A Funeral for A Friend

I am having lunch with Dickey the Peap today. 

We had originally scheduled to have lunch tomorrow, but, a change in date of an event  for Friday altered our plans, so, today it is. I believe it is the little miser's turn to buy and that in itself should make for a joyous day.   In making our plans, however, I discovered that  the Frugal One is burdened with a heavy heart.  It seems that the recent passing of a very close friend (whom I have never met) of our boy and the very odd friendship these two shared has made his attitude blue.  I understand. These things are painful and, for Dickey, this one hits home fairly hard.  In wanting to give him some comfort in realizing these things occur, that death is really a part of life, and truly wanting to help, I asked Dickey if he would share a  copy of the eulogy with me.  My intent was maybe I could add my own thoughts as well.  Here is what he gave to me: 

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the life and pay homage to the passing of an old friend.  Though I know that none of you never knew him, he certainly knew all of you.  Some of you even better than others.  Regardless, no one should leave this earth without a small remembrance.  And that, my friends, is why we are here today. 

The Bible tells us that if we work on behalf of the Lord's Glory, though, we may not earn riches here on Earth, our reward will be bountiful in heaven.  Fortunately, the Lord did bless our friend with many riches and abundant blessings during his time on earth.  And yet, with all of God's graces showered upon him, his sharing of those riches, by intent,  was extremely limited.   Never once, was he first to offer his help, share his treasure, or host the event.  No friends, this concept was a foreign one to him. 

You see friends, his  place in life was always the same:   He knew where to remain.  Hidden.  Obscured.  Away from the Action.  Whether it be left behind in the car,  hiding away at home, or just remaining in plain sight and not moving a muscle, our dear friend steadfastly refused to join and get involved.  No amount of coaxing was about to move him.  And now, he is gone.  Forever.  For never more.

And so it is, ashes to ashes and dust to dust.    From this earth you were formed and to this earth you will return.  Good bye, dear Friend. 

Thinking that this special relationship that Dickey shared with his dog must have been one of a kind, it almost brought tears to my eyes.  I was just about to say that  you can never replace a loyal dog and I would understand if he waited a bit before getting another one.  Then, after reading all of this, it hit me!  Dickey never had a dog. I know what he is doing on Friday afternoon!  He is going shopping. He has to get a new wallet. The old one died. 

A bit of Faith restored

Talk about impeccable timing!  No sooner than I had chronicled the  experience of our upcoming Trial of the Century, the 2011 FTI Dopes Trial, than I receive an email yesterday afternoon from my lawyer, Shifty, that the preliminary appeal by the idiot defendant had been denied by the appellate court!    This opens up a huge door in our case and effectively blocks the other side from advancing their idiotic positions  any further, not to mention saving us valuable time (and dollars!). 

We have waited over 2 and one half years to get to this point and many times I have wondered if this struggle is worth it.  Many sleepless nights of worry, anger, and frustration have occurred due the greedy actions of one individual that never had to come to this point.  Mrs. Kfred, myself, and our fellow plaintiffs have only wanted nothing but one thing in this whole affair: to be treated fairly and evenly.  This isn't about money.  It's not about power.  It's not about control.  It's about doing the right thing. Unfortunately, we have had to sue to have the right thing done.  I know I am talking in code and I have not revealed what this is all about, but,  it will come out shortly. 

And believe me.  There will be a big blowout when this is all finished.  I think I hear the band warming up.   

Our temporary leave is over

Our normal production of meaningful analysis and commentary has been interrupted a bit over the last couple of weeks due to our involvement with the FTI Legal team for the upcoming trial of the century (instead of the landmark 1925 Scopes Trial, this is to be identified as the 2011 FTI Dopes Trial). The Factorcrap Truthometer Deluxe® is now safely back here at FTI having been loaned out to our lawyer, Shifty, for his use and assistance in actually finding the truth.  The FTD® was put through the most demanding of analytical trial periods that even exceed what the manufacturer had ever intended the mechanical marvel to perform and it functioned brilliantly.

During legal discovery, a number of statements, documents, scenarios, and possibilities were examined and judged to be anywhere on a scale of , "Well, thats kind of how it happened", to "Nah, that's Bullshit".  (Most of it was on this lower end of the spectrum).    I will discuss the trial once we get underway, but, can't before we actually begin.  I can offer one teaser however: last week, the idiot defendant got frustrated during depositions and called Shifty a "chump" on the record.    The  FTD® registered nary a hiccup over that statement. (OK, that was a cheap lawyer joke.  Shifty is a good guy and I am glad he is pushing our case for us).  I guess when your defense starts to unravel before you own eyes, it can't be a comforting feeling, and you get a bit frustrated.   

Anyway, we're back, the Dopes trial is a mere 15 days away, and I am once again determined to offer the truth as only we can present it.  A final note:  at no time during our intellectual absence was anything published here that did not meet out strict adherence to a policy of complete accuracy, forthrightness, and openness.  After all, if I lied about it, it would actually improve out reputation.

It's Palm Sunday

It's one week before the Holiest of Days in the Christian Religion.  And just like our idiots seem to celebrate their own type of  religion, we take time to pause and celebrate as well.  I'm taking the staff out to Brunch.

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.

Oh, that explains it

An actual study conducted on our behalf succinctly, accurately, and fairly,  pretty much sums up my position here as Executive Director.

I commissioned this study by an outside affiliate whom has increasingly displayed the tendencies to become a member of our staff and, as a result, will be recommending him for induction during our next membership drive. In the meantime, I display his work for your review.

Jukebox: I'm anklin'

FTI Math

Part of the intellectual pursuit/behind-the-scenes struggle occurring last week included a small subset drama over my personal compensation.

Though clearly enunciated in the "About FTI" tab at the top of this page that states "we have agreed to perform this community service for an undetermined amount of time at no cost", a small (think Dickey the Peap meal tip type of small) caretaker fee is given to me on a monthly basis. Having performed this service for the past 2 years with no adjustment whatsoever, I quietly approached our Cheap-Assed Board of Directors in the hopes they would address this issue. When the intellectual disagreement issue came to a head, though, my stipend issue was quickly moved down the list of priorities and it was tabled by the BOD. Now, that the intellectual content matter has been settled, I am pleased to announce that an agreement to increase my stipend by 2.5% has been reached.

Let see, I think I can do this one in my head: that's, uh, this times .025, carry the 9, bring down the 7, move 3 decimal points to the left, and add 2. Got it. I am now at officially at the US Government's Poverty level. God, this is a great gig!

It's Reconciliation Sunday

An agreement has been reached and a major crisis resolved:   we're gonna be able to produce the continuing stupidity some more . Due to the grueling negotiations, however, we are taking today off and enjoying our normal Sunday brunch. 

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: Our claim to Normalcy, that is

We are definitely at an impasse

We are currently facing a stalemate of epic proportions as to the direction we wish to pursue in the future here at FTI.     I can't seem to get the 2 factions of our intellectual debate  to give enough of their respective positions in order to find a common ground.  Alas, we may be in for as shutdown if some type of agreement is not met shortly.

As noted yesterday, I had the "Chump Chatter" faction submit an example of the type of material they wished to pursue.  Still liking the art idea that the Chump Chatter group advanced, yesterday, I asked the other side to produce a piece of art they would offer in  alignment with their stated policy direction.   Fully expecting a highbrow, clearly defined, intellectually advanced piece of work, I was sadly disappointed with the example offered:

I was uncertain of the relevance of this offering and asked  how the Whacko, Weirdo, Misfit faction would describe this lovely velvet painting.   I was told this piece was symbolic of  a man whom walked on water, changed lives, and was misunderstood by most people  during his short life here on earth.  And  "we haven't even begun to describe Jesus' life experience."  

I have already notified the utility company to prepare to suspend service to the FTI compound for the foreseeable future. 
    

Could this argument shut us down?

Ripped from the pages of today headlines, a battle is brewing here at FTI that is similar to a battle being currently fought in the public arena.  Fortunately, it has nowhere near the complications involved. 

At our normal Monday staff meeting, a chasm was revealed that could result in a shutdown here at FTI unless some sort of compromise is not reached. Unlike the Federal government's battle between political parties about government spending, our differences emanate over a battle of intellectual pursuit. On the surface, I know that sound like an oxymoron, however deeper investigation shows an argument vigorously defended by both points of view. On one side, there is an element that supports our original charter and purpose to (as noted in our "About FTI" tab at the top of this page)"offer policy analysis, event commentary, and recount observations as generated by the same staff that mental health professionals have identified as Weirdos, Whackos, and Misfits." Seems straight forward enough. The other faction wants to take our purpose in another direction resulting in nonsense, drivel, and a daily feature known as "Chump Chatter" that basically highlights questionable investments, 20 year old jokes, balloon tying tricks, and examples of "art".  I, as Executive Director, have stayed above the fray, but see myself increasingly getting drawn into this mess. Being the Broker of Peace that I am, I summoned both factions to the Executive Suite here at FTI to facilitate some type of negotiations. I am familiar with the side that wants to keep our purpose status quo, but, was interested in raising our intellectual angle and thought the art idea was interesting.   I decided to ask the other side to submit some type of example that I could study so I could make a recommendation to the cheap-Assed Board of Directors for their consideration.

The resulting submittal speaks for itself.  I hope our mission suffers no interruptions. 

Family Secrets

I received an email from Dickey the Peap over the weekend.  It's always a good thing to get an email  from him.  Although you can't tell it from some of my thoughts posted here, I do enjoy his company.  (A lot of the time it is more for the comedic relief than anything else, but, hey that's OK.  He knows it as well.) Anyways, he followed it up with  a phone call  where he tells me of his various past activities in the week including now cornering the market in his latest venture which has produced MORE untold riches for the little miser.   I digress, however, back to the email.  It seems  the Peap read  our post concerning family memories, was intrigued by it, and wanted to add a personal highlight of his own.  After reviewing and discussing his submission with him, I only shake my head in wonder.  Why someone would submit a photo so personal and humiliating as this is beyond wonder.  I asked if he might want to reconsider and share something of a less personal nature.  "No, it accurately reflects my life and this is how I want it shared."  Not wanting to add more misery and disappointment to the little dwarf's existence, I post it here for your review.  I am unaware if Mrs. The Peap knows he submitted this or not.    

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: My everyday goal