Blue Company: work work work

Date: Sat, 18 May 2002
Subject: work work work
From: berto_alto@tank20.com
To: You

Dear You,

Awwwwww . . .

I notice from your message header
that you’re writing me from work
on Saturday!
I thought you were trying
for a real weekend
this week.

Poor you!

(I think it’s Saturday, isn’t it?)

Up here in the mountains
days of the week vary from village to vilage

These here folks believe it’s Sunday
and they were in a Sabbath-esque mood today . . .

. . . although . . .

it’s hard to tell if the whole “Jesus from Nazareth” concept
has really captured people’s imaginations
or not . . .

In the village we’re camped near tonight
They were singing to this thing:

which is about 3 feet high
made of marble
and is leaning up against
the Village Chief’s house
with a little roof over it

I don’t see one bit of Christian
iconography in it . . .

It’s pure Roman
It’s essentially E.T. in a toga

shrugs

Whatever.

crosses himself

looks to the sky for thunderbolts

touches wood

laughs

Saturday Mood

I’m in a typical Saturday mood tonight

which is odd, really . . .
because we do the same shit every day

Saturday mood equals
(at least in the “old days” of the 21st)
Going Out Drinking With the Gang
and Complaining About Work

I should be happy
We had roast stoat and wheat bread

Pep Talk for You

Dust Off Your Resume, god damn it!

You don’t need them!

Go in there to your Performance Review on Monday
and give ‘em Hell!

If I was there with you right now
I’d help you rehearse!

We’d stand up
and I’d sing
one of our silly Provencal marching songs
with you

and then we’d keep marching
and you’d repeat your Performance Review Mantra:

“I’ve made you so much money
“I’ve made you so much money”
“I’ve made you so much money”

which cancels out their

“We’re doing you a favor”
“We’re doing you a favor”
“We’re doing you a favor”

and then I’d hear you sing out

“I’ll make you more money if I’m happy”
“I’ll make you more money if I’m happy”
“I’ll make you more money if I’m happy”

Motion Sickness on the Trail

This poor Renaissance Faire Wench
was puking her guts out today

I hope we get out of the mountains soon

Skip in the Drive-Through

Stoats are kind of a cross
between a gopher, a weasel, and a power saw.

So we’re standing in the dinner line,
and Skip says to one of the Goth Kitchen kids
“I would like the Stoat Super Value Meal
with a superslice of bread
and a large diet spring water please”

What does stoat taste like? hmmmm . . .
Stoat tastes kinda like baby fox, but stringy.

My Job

You ask what my job is?

Pretty much what it always was —- Marketing.

except Marketing is a bit different back here

Marketing =

1) Creating a fearsome field reputation for the company
—- rumor mongering, essentially —-
so that people are
a) eager to contract us
b) loath to fight us

It’s all about the brand!

2) Doing parlays
—- meetings, meetings, meetings —-
ransom, safe passage, blah blah blah

3) ‘Ragging and Bragging’
(as we call it)
i.e. riding up and issuing these very ornate challenges
at the top of our lungs
‘If you are idiotic enough
to fuck with the Blue Company
you’ll end this day by begging to crawl back
into your mother’s womb
to escape us!” yadda yadda
It’s fun.

4) Oh, yeah, and maybe the main thing:
I’m an Information Officer.
People pay fortunes for political and military information
back here.
It’s an information economy.
That’s how we got all our roastin’ stoats —-
telling this Village Chief about some troop movements
we saw in Switzerland.

“I warned you”

I’m glad the Democrats are pressuring Bush again

. . . but realistically, how can a warlord sift out
which of the million warnings
is gonna come true . . .

(I know, I’m an Information Officer —-
“Warnings R Me”)

When I’m consulting for gangster warlord
I just tell His Local Highness Whoever
to act fairly in the world

. . . that’s better prevention than paranoia . . .

But do they ever listen? Hah!

Taking my Job Too Seriously

Yeah I know what you’re saying about
me taking my job too seriously, too . . .

But if only you were here to see
how intense all this shit is . . .

. . .but then I know everybody says that
about their own job . . .
You’re right; you’re right.

Everybody Else Who’s Reading This E-Mail
Get Lost
And Skip Over This Next Section!!

*******************************************
So . . . you . . .
I want you to close your eyes
right there on your chair . . .

right in front of your computer, your e-mail . . .

. . .and imagine that you can feel my warm fingers . . .

sloooooooooowly, slooooooooowly unbuckling
your wrist braces

and gently massaging the base of your thumb . . .
. . . kneading your poor sore wrists

squeezing sloooowly and sweeeeeeetly
down your forearms

taking the pressure off your poor carpal tunnels

and ending with a little soft soft kiss
right on your enflamed

tendons . . .

*****************************************

Voyeurs Beware!

OK! If any of the rest of you read that
I’ll have you drawn and quartered!

Don’t laugh.
I’ve seen it done.