The World's most Famous, Sucessful Internet Humorist. (Whoa! A quadruple contradiction in terms!)
The company is moving pro-actively to do somthing about their stupidity, howevor. In a bold move of leadership, there has been some serrious rearranging of the deck chairs recently on this Titanic waste of venture capitol money. The main things the company has been doing in these cruciol, dire times are:
Farting around with the logo Farting around with the "look and feel" (Bleah! I hate that term!) of the website Changing the typeface of the Business Plan Planning the next re-Org Hiring more freinds and cronies and inventing positions for them Trying to be Robust yet Nimble, while being Granular. I dont know what that means.
Althuogh today there was a new inovative corrageous thing added to that list. Which, in spite of everything I actualy didnt mind, cause it was sort of like a day off:
Two of the big bosses, Mr. Bouvard and Mr. Peckushay brought this consulting firm in which is owned by freinds of theres on the West coast. Like, 20 consultents were flown in First class. All of Cyberblop had to spend the whole day learning how to be respectfull of one anothor despite all our differences.
"Hey Walt, howya doing. Listen, I'm sorry about jazzing you on the train back there in New York."
I replied, "Yeah, I know you called. Granfather was making cruel fun of me."
Stu looked at me simpathetically.
"I told him you were sick. I didn't tell him you crapped on the subway."
Then I told Stu that Tilde faxed Granfather the details. He said, "Whoa, that's cold, Walter." Stu was one of my only true freinds at work. And for that matter, in the world. Me and him sat there in the back row hangin out and talking for the whole Sensitivitty Day. I noticed the book that Stu was reading. It was one I never saw before, "Passover For Dummies". I asked him about it.
"I'm dating a Jewish chick. She invited me to her family's seder," said Stu.
"Cool," I said.
"Yeah, back in college I went to a seder at another chick's house. I really made a scene. I drank Joshua's wine." I said, "What's that?"
"I mean...Damn! I meant Elijah's wine," said Stu, flipping thruogh the book. "Anyway, you're not supposed to drink it. Then, I scarfed up all the horseradish. Made a real ass out of myself. And with a face like this, well, I'm not the most Kosher looking angel on the Christmas tree."
Howevor, there was a reason for it, because just about at this point up on the stage they were up to the "Sexuol Harassment portion" of Sensitivity Day. The moderator, one of these useless high-paid five-thousand doller a day cronies of Mr. Bouvard and Mr. Peckushay were scouring the audeince for "workshop participants."
"HIDE!", squealed Stu, as he grabbed my arm and dunked me out of view to the people on stage. We did not want to be "workshop participints." If you got picked as one of these, you were forced to go on stage and act in a dumbass skit. A skit on how NOT to act at work. This was the whole point of Sensitivitty Day.
They ended up picking this guy named Jimmy from Systems Analysis. They practicaly had to drag him out of his seat. Poor Jimmy marched up onto the stage staring at his shoes. They forced him to act in some skit where he had to pretend to sexualy harass the moderator. It was the dumbest thing I ever saw in my life.
"And then a year ago," said Stu, who, like me, was not payin attention to Sensitivity Day, "I was dating this absolutely beutiful girl I met in a bar..."
I said to him, "You know Stu. I cant meet anyone. It's amazing that you do, considering that..."
My words trailed off. Then I was silent.
"Considering what, Walt. Go on. Say it," said Stu.
"Oh, nothing," I said.
"Go on! Say it! Considering that I have a face like a pig! A PIG! SAY it!"
I contineud to be silent. I pretended to be interrested in what was going on on the stage. Jimmy from Systems Analisys was choking up there. He coud not come up with any words to effectively sexualy harass the moderator for illustrative purposes of the demonstration.
"Jimmy stinks!" the moderator screamed, as she turned to the laughing audeince and snapped, "Who can come up with some insensitive terms Jimmy can use?"
Jimmy just stood there clasping his hands and lookin down at his shoes, like one of those poor guys who coudnt outrun the tanks in Tienaman Square back in '89 and got cought and who was now on trial there in the kangaroo court with a wooden sign hangin around his neck that said mean things on it. As people in the audeince called out all of these awful words, the moderator forced Jimmy to write them on this blackboard.
"Hey, Walt," Stu said to me sudenly, "Are you, um, playing with yourself?"
"No," I said, "I have a horobble rash."
I told Stu the story of what hapenned to me because I sat on the plane all those hours in vinyl pants with no underwear after my accident on the subway.
Stu got a shivering willie. "No underwear? Oh, man, Walt," he said, "That's the last time I steal your office chair."
I told him that, "I am wearin underwear NOW," but of course I said it too loud and this ugly girl sittin nearby turned around and heard it. She looked at me in profound disgust. I supose it is not so bad if a cute girl looks at you with proffound disgust but when an ugly girl does it, it really is more houmilliating.
Stu whispered, "Have you tried Monostat Seven for that rash? Don't laugh. It's not just for the ladies anymore."
"Whoa, Stu," I said, "Like, you know evereything."
This is why I got him to help me market my cartoon project. Stu's peice of the action (if we ever get any freakin action), is bigger than mine, and he deserves every penny of it. Stu is the kind of guy that by all acounts people like me ought to be jeallous of him, although that is kind of hard on account of him havin the face of a danm pig.
Jimmy from Systems was doing teribble on the stage. He was practically in the fetal position. The moderator hollered at him, and made him sit down. As soon as Jimmy left the stage, Bob from Purchasing shot his hand in the air from the audeince and one of Mr. Bouvard's and Mr. Peckushay's high paid crony consultent friends called on him to come up on stage.
"I can pretend to sexaully harass the moderator!" said Bob. The audeince erupted in applause. I whispered to Stu, "What an ass kisser!"
"No," I said.
"Repeat after me, Walt: B-to-B E-commerce."
"What does it mean?"
"Who the hell freakin knows," he snorted. "Just keep sayin it. It's what people want to hear."
I said to him "Stu, you are amazing. How do you do it?"
I waited almost a minute for his answor, as, without turning to face me he tried to quickly wolf down an oversized mouthfull of honey crusted salt almonds he'd just sucked into his maw from a paper bag which was wrapped kind of tightly onto the pink prominent conical facial protuberance which comprized his snoutlike nose and mouth.
Meanwhile up on the stage, Bob from Purchasing was realizing that what he agreed to do was harder than it looked. He had a slow start at first, but after prodding and encurragement from the moderator, who lectured him strictly in her assertively stern Katie Couric voice that he not be as cowardley as Jimmy from Systems was, Bob began to open up and do as he was told. One by one the offensive words slowly came from his reluctant lips and his confiddence grew as the presentation progressed.
Stu was still chewing. He raised his index fingor in a motion that I shoud wait a moment. He crunched and chomped vigourously. Soon the almonds in Stu's pendulous wobbly jowls were mashed up enuough to visibly descend down his pink porky throat in a throbbing bolus of chewed food, and he gasped, and he winced and he spoke.
"HOW do I do it?," Stu gulped, repeating my question, then sudenly answering, "Kissing ass."
"Trust me, Walt," he heaved for air, brushing crystally crumbs from his lips with small stout hooflike hands, "It's the only way to get ahead in this world."
Well geez, I started thinkin to myself, if anyone's an ass kissor its me, danmit. But I am not a sucess. Mabye I am just kissin the wrong asses.