A LARGER executive jet, a SMALLER limousine and dinner at a NICER restaurant. Once again, I have been assured that this is a very atypical day.

Too tired to rant.

I like jelly donuts.

G’nite

AND PLANES STILL SHOULD NOT LOGICALLY BE ABLE TO FLY. They’re unnatural abominations.

An executive jet, a limousine and dinner at a French restaurant. Unfortunately, I have been assured that this is a very atypical day.

This post is for that under-represented community in the entertainment industry (movies, books, music videos, the backs of cereal boxes etc) wiz Monsters. It is partially inspired by these dudes and partially by this really bad movie that is on HBO right now.

I shall be playing the role of a business/management counselor (You know, one of those boring ass MBA mo-fos (sorry Chilli) who conduct those orientation sessions on the first day of work and have you engage in dumb ass games and meaningless team work “fucking kill me now” building exercises. No, I do not think that desert survival games will help me code better. Any refugees from WIPRO recognize that? Nor do I think that holding impromptu plays is a less traumatic experience than being shoved head first into a fucking food processor. The only dickheads who actually enjoy these atrocities, both the participation in and the formulation of are people who have gone to business fucking school.

Interesting, I don’t think I have ranted in braces before. But that rant is for some other time) and will be giving the monster career advice for a fulfilling job environment, rich with upward opportunities and an excellent growth path.

Here is my advisc to the “Monsters”. For the purpose of this exercise I shall call them Junior Level Executive in charge of Localized Mayhem and Fear or to shorten that, Scary Ass Mo-fo.
Remember, your goal is to a) Survive and b) Destroy the “bad” guys (The “bad” guys are conventionally known as the good guys, but to build self esteem and pride in the JLEICOLMAF we shall call them “bad”guys.).

Here goes.

1. Office Demeanor.

Enough with the roaring. It is counterproductive. It lets the bad guys know where you are and you spend valuable brain time trying to come up for an aesthetically pleasing roar. A side effect is that the bad case of halitosis that you suffer from alerts the aforementioned bad guys.

If your species tends towards a slimy exterior carry a box of tissues to wipe up after you. Thus eliminating traces of your passage.

2. Situational Awareness.

Look everywhere. I cannot stress this enough. The bad guys are always hiding in that small box/locker/cabinet which seems to be too small to be holding anyone but actually possesses dimensions worthy of a TARDIS (Those of you who aren’t Doctor Who fans, a TARDIS is larger on the inside than the outside ). Pay particular attentions to roofs. They like to perch there acrobatically, in physically improbable poses.

3. Enemy Grooming and Appearance.

Go for the good looking ones. The sexy ones usually are the most dangerous. It has been statistically proven that the better looking the bad guy/girl is, the greater their chances of … well surviving you. Particular attention must be paid at this juncture. The female in the slutty (weird, apparently Word refuses to believe that slutty is a valid word) attire is not a threat. She is a red herring and will later die in a way that she deserves. Probably in a manner that would not have occurred if she was chaster. Look for the woman who is sexy and strong but vulnerable. She will be showing some skin, maybe some cleavage, but not too much. Similarly, the outrageously good looking man will have feet of clay. He will panic further along and will reveal himself to you and/or your colleagues and you will have ample opportunity to dispose of him. Look for the other man, the strong silent one. If he has stubble you’ve found the main threat.

4.Minority Race relations.

People who are not white are not a threat. Races are easy to pigeonhole.

Asians will either be scientists or hold menial positions. Scientists wear white coats. (That is a universal rule irrespective of the race of the scientist.) Asians who know martial arts are not a threat unless they are the “lead” as described in the previous point. Further along, they will sacrifice themselves for the greater good of the group. This will involve them assuming a martial arts pose and doing their best Bruce Lee Imitation.

My race unfortunately is an uncool minority. We will die early on or will make comments with an outrageously thick accent until you put us out of our misery.

Europeans with British or French accents are guaranteed to be on our side. Do not worry about them. However, the women have sometimes been known to be attracted to the male “lead” so do not trust them. If there is a lot of sighing or lip licking on their parts during the observations of the male “lead” on the standard close circuit cameras, eliminate them immediately.

Other races (I’m being politically correct here. Draw your own conclusions) are usually along only for comic relief. If they aren’t, they will die suitably heroically in sight of escape. They can be problematic but can be handled with a little caution. Usually by placing the ”leads” in danger at which point they will sacrifice themselves gladly.

5. Upper management.

They cannot be trusted. The evil mastermind/boss/scientist does not care about you. All he cares about is the formula/specimen/suitcase full of bonds that is currently held by the bad guys/in the secure locker or will be his payment on successful execution of his agenda. It is worse if you are employed by a Corporation. They will do anything to look good at a shareholders’ meeting.

6. Your colleagues and You.

Remember, you need to work as a team. At least until all the bad guys are disposed of. Fighting over the remains of the lesser cast members is counter productive. Your task is to eliminate the “leads”. Then you may fight over the remains.

This is the end of session one. There will be more next week or when I’m bored enough.

A brief message from our sponsor…

Let me begin by blessing all those who choose to leave their wireless networks unprotected. They are the salt of the earth, the wind below my wings, my gateway to a whole new world, a new exciting place… (Insert rest of Alladin theme here).

I resisted this urge for days, this urge to roam the apartment complex searching for a vulnerable network that I could exploit. Until today, when desperation and boredom defeated me.

Unfortunately the only place I can pick this signal up is in the parking lot. So currently I am in the parking lot, sitting on the sidewalk, typing away furiously with an eye on my battery levels. For some strange reason the powers that be decided that having power outlets in the parking lot was a bad idea. If only the bastards whose networks I can pick up in the apartment had chosen to be as open and as giving as this wonderful Samaritan.

…thus endeth the brief message.

(I’d write more but it is getting a bit chilly out here. So good night all.)

And the weekly molestation of my blog by the spammers has started. Well I’ve certainly foiled them. No more will they leave comments saying that I have an excellent blog, but that from its contents it seems clear that I have a weight problems, real estate dilemmas, stock market opportunities, mortgage lenders beating at my door, chances to buy stock, ever popular erectile dysfunctions, chances to pick up degrees based on real life experience, painkillers at bargain basement prices and so forth.

(It’s really getting cold now. As “the devil” would say if he was french, “Adios”.)

Observe the profile.

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“Are those the pants you’re wearing to your first job interview?”
My uncle Joe (former Marine, newspaperman, sharp dresser) clearly disapproved.
“Just a minute,” he said. He left the room, reappeared shortly with a pair of these. “Served me well in the Corps. Never got a gig.”
A gig?
“A demerit. Passed every inspection with the Gunny. He could spot an Irish pennant a mile away.”
Irish pennant?
“Wear the pants, John.”
No-Gig Pants (No. 1599). Trim-cut legs. Precise buttonflap [sic] rear pockets and vertical side-seam pockets. Full dresspants [sic] construction. Threeseason [sic] weight, non-scratchy wool that holds a crisp crease. Save a trip to the Quantico PX.
Men’s even sizes: 32 through 46. Hemming (max: 37”) or cuffing (max: 34”), add $2 per pair.
Color: Marine Corps Green.
Price: $148.
Go here for that…

Literary party at a London townhouse. South American Nobel laureate and two Booker Prize winners in attendance.
Good thing there are no sharp knives on the hors d’oeuvre trays.
I step out into the private garden during a discussion of magic realism. She’s already there, inspecting peonies in the twilight.
Our conversation is of merciful inconsequence. The latest Tate show, our favorite cheese shops.
I like the one on Moxon Street, she says.
Gaslights flicker on, making her velvet dress glow.
I like that one too, I say. I like it very much.
Belgravia Dress (No. 1590). Lush, glowing rayon/silk cut velvet, lined in pure silk. Wraps down from V-neck to asymmetrical tie-closure at waist, continues to low-calf length. Flattering princess seams.
For special occasions, parties, romantic dinners, assignations in the garden (with the right planting, in the right light, you and the garden merge). Price: $248.
Sizes: 4 through 16. Color: Crimson and Green floral on rich Taupe.
… and go here for that.

All from the J.Peterman catalog. Apparently Elaine’s boss from Seinfeld is not wholly fictional. The mind boggles.