The boss came to me a few weeks ago and said he wanted a company-only “wiki.” Yeah, just like that famous encyclopedic one. He explained it would be a good place for everyone on the team to document critical information. We’d all benefit by having searchable information at our fingertips.

Even I had to admit that sounded like a logical good idea, if everyone chipped it and actually used the tool effectively.

I should have smelled a rat.

After a few seconds of thought, I came up with a plan and cleared it with the boss. I’d check into hosted products first, and, if I didn’t find any to my liking, I’d see about searching for some sort of open source solution. I already knew that the software that powers Wikipedia is an open source product, but I didn’t know yet what was involved.

I did find a hosted wiki I liked, but it was $5 a month for privacy and no-ads. The boss is one of the biggest pennypinchers of all time, so I ditched that plan and concentrated on open source.

After a quick bit of research, I found a piece of software called Mediawiki, which is the exact same software originally used by Wikipedia. As an open source product, it was absolutely free. I simply had to install it on one of our web servers. And it looked and functioned almost exactly like Wikipedia which I thought was a really good thing. And it didn’t cost a penny to make it private. I simply enabled a server-level password.

I turned the wiki site over to the boss the very next day, explained it was completely free, and that’s when he had a conniption. There was not a single single positive word. It was as if slinging criticisms was the only way he could build to an orgasm. He flung them at me fast and furious like a blindfolded daredevil throwing knives at a woman bound to a rotating platform. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk!

“Why did you put it on that domain name?”

“I don’t like the logo image.”

“Why do I have to create my own account?”

“It shouldn’t say Widget Company. This is supposed to be an umbrella. It should say Acme Corp!”

“I don’t like this.”

“I don’t like that.”

Say what you will about the boss, but he never holds back. For him the criticism of others is like verbal vomit and he never hesitates to hurl. I’ve often wondered what it feels like to so ruthlessly cut down other human beings to cover your own incompetence. Perhaps I’ll never know.

There was an endless litany of other, equally frivolous complaints, until I was so livid I sat at my desk panting like a dog. Fuck that bastard, I thought.

He was, of course, most expertly employing the concepts and techniques as illustrated in my book, How to Destroy Your Employees. Absolutely none of the things he criticized had he ever explained or even told me were design requirements. In fact, the entire project framework consisted of nothing more detailed than, “Me want a wiki.” That was it. That was the grand blueprint. And I had beautifully exceeded that mandate only to be shit upon. The boss apparently wanted a mind reader. Maybe he should hire Miss Cleo.

What came next was beautiful, classic boss. “I guess I’ll have to take care of this myself,” he uttered as he turned his back on me.

The next morning I walked in the door and a shitstorm was waiting.

“Good news,” he began in on me before my ass had even made it to my chair. “I fixed our wiki problem,” he announced in what he probably thought was his sagest voice.

Problem? We didn’t have any fucking wiki “problem.” I had served up a gold nugget in a single day, but that sucked now. Ahhh, only he could deliver. And that was the point, right? To show me I was shit and marvel in his greatness. Wiki out. New solution in. Except the wiki rocked and his new solution sucked.

With that he unveiled another example of his masterful genius. It was a hosted “project management” software that costs $50 a month for the starter plan and put a limit on the number of projects it could handle. I was thinking in misery, “Is this guy nuts?” when the other shoe dropped.

It also did other stuff. The truly important stuff. It allowed the boss to create “things to do” tasks for his employees. And assign them dates. And email him when those “milestones” (yes that is me vomiting some air quotes) were not completed on time by the minions.

Suddenly it was all so clear.

The wiki, which was what he fucking asked for, was weak in one area, and that was in the issuing of tasks and assigning dates. And that was the only piece that was important to the boss.

“And,” he added, “I’ve already issued lots of deadlines for you. For example, the new website launches in one week.”

OMG! That project estimate was utterly insane. Under his leadership the project had floundered for over a year since I’d been hired and a couple of years longer before that. But now he had “project management” software that allowed him to set dates, thus, by his logic, the project would magically be done with a single week.

What factors had gone into that estimate? What work? On what basis in reality? Again, it was nothing more substantial than, “Me want,” and the fact that he feels it is time because the project has floundered for so long. “It feels like it should be done by now so one week feels like a good deadline to me.” It was literally that simple.

It was truly staggering.

That was almost a month ago.

We blazed by that deadline as the list of meaningless shit he wanted grew exponentially. I worked away on his assignments as fast as I could, although most of them were nonsensical and totally irrelevant to making a functioning ecommerce website. We’d have, for example, four hour discussions about “inches” vs “millimeters” and the “philosophy” of the same. And by the word “discussions” I mean to say that he pontificated wisely as I sat miserably, like a clam, counting the number of seconds until his next “deadline” and his words failed to penetrate my impending sense of doom.

Last Friday morning I walked into work and he dropped the bomb. Even though the deadline had been extended and was a few weeks away, the site was going to launch today. “What? Are you shitting me?”

“Why not?” he said.

“We’re not even remotely close to being ready. For example, ALL of the pages say ‘coming soon.’” The boss was supposed to have someone writing content like policies, about us, shipping rates, etc. None of that was done. Not a single piece. Our site was an empty shell full of gaping holes.

“Oh, we don’t need that stuff. We launch tonight. It’s time or this will never get done. Weeeee!” he said with glee.

I ended up working overtime on Friday. Duh. When it was time to go home, he said, “I need you to make a few more changes.”

And here I thought we were ready to launch.

He gave me some text to add, which I did. Then he reviewed that text and said, “I don’t like what it says. Change it again.”

But you fucking provided the text, you nimrod! And thus there was a bonus hour of doing important work like that.

Worse, it was the exact opposite of what he said he wanted two weeks ago. “Maybe the two halves of your brain should get together and actually decide what they want.”

“It’s too bad the site has so many gaping holes,” he finally said.

“Yeah. Typically people decide what they want on their websites before they launch,” I said. “Those holes are the things you were supposed to take care of. Amazing that you never took care of a single one.” I was in a bad place.

I finally escaped his gravitational pull and got out of the office to go find my wife, wherever she was.

And guess what? The boss called me this weekend to complain that there were some glitches. Go figure! We launched a few weeks early than we should have and everything wasn’t swimmingly perfect? Well, holy fuck! Shit me sideways.

Of course those glitches were the biggest dealbreakers of all time. “That’s the one thing I can’t tolerate,” he said about every single one, sounding a lot like me.

To me, this whole thing is reminiscent of what I call The Webmaster’s Curse. At every step in the process you get asked your opinion, and you naively give it. It is never taken. 100 decisions and 100 times you are overruled by the more brilliant people who surround you. Then, at the end of the project, when you are left with a steaming pile of dog shit, those same people say, “God, you suck as a webmaster.” Unbelievably that’s actually how they see it, although this no longer surprises me.

Today I go in to work expecting to be buried alive in pressure (that I eat for breakfast), bullshit, and a myriad of his mind-numbing irrelevancies. It’s hard to feel one’s efforts are so wasted and ineffectual because of such moronic leadership. It sure doesn’t feel very good.

The social scientists of the Abyss have been hard at work putting together the following guide to help you make sense of this confusing Republic primary. Should you vote for Mitt? Newt? Who the hell knows?

Now you do. Simply follow this chart and everything will turn out fine.

Thinking is hard and overrated. So don’t try.

You’re welcome!

Okay, okay. Wait, wait!

Knock knock. Who’s there? A virus. A virus who? Newt Gingrich!

Dammit. That doesn’t work, either.

A priest, a rabbi and a virus are floating in a boat…

No, no, no, no!

Take my virus, please.

Aw, fuck it. I guess there will be no humor in this post. Don’t blame me. I tried!

So yeah, there I was the other day, writing a post about Google, recent updates to Google’s privacy policies, and thinking thoughts about just how immense Google has become.

Click image to go see what all the hubbub is about.

To illustrate the latter, I decided it would be fun to modify a graphic of our solar system comparing the relative size of objects contained within. My plan was to seamlessly add a “Google sphere” to the image and make Google the largest object our solar system has ever seen.

After some experimentation, I decided that Google would only be about nine times as large as Jupiter. Yeah, that seemed about right. Let the sun reign supreme as the largest object. At least for now. Watch your back, sun! Google is coming!

Somehow, though, The Newt made his appearance in this graphic. That was an odd juxtaposition, wasn’t it? Seemingly it made absolutely no sense. Even I almost forgot how it came to be there, but luckily I remembered. At least, in my mind, it made some sort of sense and I thought I’d take a quick moment to lead you on a tour behind the curtain and share a rare glimpse of my creative processes.

Ready? Let’s go. Please remember to remain seating, stay within the post at all times, and no flash photography.

While laboring tirelessly to produce that “Size of Objects in Solar System” image, I had a thought. What if I also showed something small, really small, for comparison? That somehow struck me as funny.

So I fired up a Google Image Search and went to work. (Yes, I was using Google tools to assist me with a post that was critical of Google. I appreciated the irony of that. Isn’t this fun? I consider it akin to a virtual version of cannibalism. Yummy!)

I tried various phrases like small things and microscopic. Eventually I started trying phrases with the term “electron microscope” and it wasn’t long until I hit paydirt.

Yes, it was love at first sight. This was The One.

But how to include it? Clearly this was a phallic symbol on spider legs, and, of course, really creepy. It was perfect. And then it dawned on me.

What looks like a phallic symbol, is really creepy, and walks around on spider legs? The ethics of Newt Gingrich! It was fate, destiny and kismet all rolled together in one.

And there you have it. That’s how it all works here in the Abyss. I hope you enjoyed the tour.

For those of you not satisfied with the tour and on a quest for even more information, here you go. Our little friend is actually called a bacteriophage. As always, Wikipedia provides more illumination:

A bacteriophage (from ‘bacteria’ and Greek phagein “to devour”) is any one of a number of viruses that infect bacteria. They do this by injecting genetic material, which they carry enclosed in an outer protein capsid. The genetic material can be ssRNA, dsRNA, ssDNA, or dsDNA (‘ss-’ or ‘ds-’ prefix denotes single-strand or double-strand) along with either circular or linear arrangement.

Bacteriophages are among the most common and diverse entities in the biosphere. The term is commonly used in its shortened form, phage.

Phages are widely distributed in locations populated by bacterial hosts, such as soil or the intestines of animals. One of the densest natural sources for phages and other viruses is sea water, where up to 9×108 virions per milliliter have been found in microbial mats at the surface, and up to 70% of marine bacteria may be infected by phages. They have been used for over 90 years as an alternative to antibiotics in the former Soviet Union and Eastern Europe as well as in France. They are seen as a possible therapy against multi-drug-resistant strains of many bacteria.

Source: Wikipedia

Now I’m hungry. Let’s eat!

It’s true. My career in education was a short one.

I was going to run a caption contest for the picture of Arizona Governor Jan Brewer planting a part of her anatomy in the airspace of Obama’s face, but then I realized that such a contest would be a pointless exercise. Why? Because, of course, there is one (and only one) right answer.

"Smell my finger!"

Yesterday morning I was listening to a little Christian radio on the way to work and they were all abuzz about this tarmac incident. Huh? What? Oh, yeah, I do occasionally listen to Christian radio. There are a couple of stations in the morning where they can sometimes be interesting enough to hold my interest. I pride myself on being open minded.

I hate commercials. I call them persuasion attempts. And we are literally hit with thousands of them every single day. Your consciousness can’t suffer an onslaught like that without taking some damage. So I have trained myself to resist. It does require no small degree of mindfulness. If I’m listening to the radio in the car and a commercial starts, my finger wails on the SCAN button and doesn’t stop until it finds something halfway interesting that is not a commercial. I end up never lingering on a station for, at most, more than a few minutes. Sometimes I end up on a Christian station (around here there are plenty) and hear something interesting.

So, like I was saying, the guy on the radio was abuzz about this Obama and Brewer incident. It went down a little something like this:

See? Obama is disinterested in immigration. Brewer invited him to the border and … he didn’t go. Obama doesn’t care about what is happening at the border.

–Some radio guy (paraphrased from memory)

My problem? That is patently false logic. And there’s been a lot of that going around these days. I’m no expert on logic, it wasn’t taught at my high school, just like it probably wasn’t taught at your high school, either. Instead my high school liked to focus on things like making lamps out of a block of wood, automotive repair, balancing a checkbook, baking chocolate chip cookies and sewing your own apron for the kitchen. You know, all of the important stuff you need to know for living an inspired life.

The logic espoused by the guy on the radio is essentially this. Issue an invitation to someone regarding XYZ. If they don’t immediately do as you request that proves they are against XYZ.

It sounds great on the radio and I’m sure the loyal listeners are nodding along saying, “Yeah, that’s right!” But it’s totally false logic. It might be true that Obama is disinterested about immigration, but his failure to accept an invitation is not the same as proof that it is true.

This is the same sort of damn logic that the birthers employed. “I say you are XYZ. You then have to prove you’re not otherwise it must be true.” I know they don’t teach logic in most high schools but, even so, it’s hard to understand how grown functioning adults believe in such utter falseness. It truly boggles the mind.

And, I think, it’s sad that most of us are whizzing through our lives, never really paying attention, never thinking critically, accepting what we are told, because we’re too busy running to the store to buy the next incremental version of some small electronic device that was made by exploited people. Which reminds me of a discussion I had with some folks yesterday.

It’s been a big question in the news lately: Should Americans care about the working conditions and plights of the people who make the iPhone? (I have blogged about Foxconn, the company in China that produces iPhones and other gadgets.) Workers at Foxconn recently won concessions from the company after threatening mass suicide. That is an interesting negotiating tactic. And an effective one for people who are desperate and mistreated enough. For some reason, all of the sudden, now the issue is big news for it’s 15 minutes of rotation before we all become disinterested and move on to something else.

One person was saying, “I like a lot of what Obama said in his State of the Union speech. It might only be lip service but at least he’s talking about bringing jobs back into our country.”

The blowhard douchebag in the room rebutted, though, saying: “If Apple had Americans make the iPhone then the price point would be higher. Americans don’t like to pay a lot of money.” The dude is a huge Apple fanboy. The rest of his reasoning was implied: “Therefore, it doesn’t matter what happens to people in some other country as long as Americans get the stupid shit they want at a cheap price.”

Speaking of cheap, that’s what seems to pass for impeccable American logic these days. It’s almost like logic is something that should be taught in our schools.

I just reread this post and it sure meanders. I apologize. That’s just how my brain happens to work. Quite illogical.

“Don’t be evil” is the informal corporate motto (or slogan) of Google, originally suggested by Google employees Paul Buchheit and Amit Patel at a meeting. Buchheit, the creator of Gmail, said he “wanted something that, once you put it in there, would be hard to take out,” adding that the slogan was “also a bit of a jab at a lot of the other companies, especially our competitors, who at the time, in our opinion, were kind of exploiting the users to some extent.” While the official corporate philosophy of Google does not contain the words “Don’t be evil”, they were included in the prospectus (aka “S-1″) of Google’s 2004 IPO (a letter from Google’s founders, later called the “‘Don’t Be Evil’ manifesto”): “Don’t be evil. We believe strongly that in the long term, we will be better served — as shareholders and in all other ways — by a company that does good things for the world even if we forgo some short term gains.” The sixth point of the 10-point corporate philosophy of Google says “You can make money without doing evil.” The motto is sometimes incorrectly stated as Do no evil.

“Don’t be evil” is said to recognize that large corporations often maximize short-term profits with actions that may not be in the best interests of the public. Supposedly, by instilling a Don’t Be Evil culture, the corporation establishes a baseline for honest decision-making that disassociates Google from any and all cheating. This in turn can enhance the trust and image of the corporation, which may outweigh short-term gains from violating the Don’t Be Evil principles.

While many companies have ethical codes to govern their conduct, Google claims to have made “Don’t Be Evil” a central pillar of their identity, and part of their self-proclaimed core values.

Criticism of Google often includes a reference to “Don’t be evil”.

Source: Wikipedia

What Wikipedia won’t – can’t – tell you is that this famous informal corporate motto was actually intended as a cruel mind fuck. It’s true, even though a Google search won’t provide a shred of evidence. Suspicious? I think so!

Their actual motto is a little more mundane. (And greedy.) It reads: If you can do a thing then you should.

The sky’s the limit!

It’s easy to be flippant and make altruistic sounding phrases part of your business when you small and just starting out. But what happens when you get big? Really big? Like a “one followed by a hundred zeros” big? It must just becomes slightly more difficult to leave the big money on the table, eh?

Google has increased is size slightly since the heady days of yesteryear after being founded by two nerdy “super virgins.” (That status is no longer maintained since money changes everything.)

We all know that Google updated their privacy policies recently. The change may seem complicated which is why I’m here to help. I ran the revised policy through the translator. This is what I got back: “We’re going to do what we want.”

Think of it! The possibilities for improving our lives are endless:

• You apply for a job. You’re surprised that the prospective employee refused your resume? They’re using Google’s new Life Transcribed feature. They’ve got a printout of everything you’ve ever said since you were three years old and received your first iPad as a present. Oops. You didn’t actually want to be employed in this modern society, did you?
• It is the model of convenience as your ex’s cell phone beeps with Google’s Stalker Alert Email Notifications. Google just let them know that you’re in a bar around the corner. Get ready to say hello to an old friend. The motto for this service? “You don’t have to thank us.”
• Insurance companies will get unprecedented access to more information about you, which they will then promptly use to deem you an increased “risk” to justify rate increases. You spend $100 a month on Farmville? Actuary tables say that makes you four times as likely to get into a fender bender. Don’t like it? Too bad. It’s the law and our data can’t be wrong.
• Google’s Secure Workplace product will alert employers to “suspicious” activity on the part of their employees. What did your employee say in email? Chat? On their so-called “secret” blog? Employees have rights, of course, which is why they’ll have to “opt-in” (hahahaha!) as a condition of employment. No opt-in? No job! That preserves the rights of everyone. After all, you have no right to complain if you agreed to it voluntarily. You have the right to be unemployed. You have the right to be homeless. (Soon to be taxed.) You have the right to go hungry. You have the right to die of scurvy, an old-time mariner disease about to make a thrilling resurgence. Take that, vitamin C!
• The divorce rate will skyrocket after Google introduces their new Till Data Do Us Part service, which will allow curious spouses to get email alerts of web history searches. Finally, you’ll get to know that your partner has been looking for. This won’t help the institution of marriage very much.
• Can you even begin to imagine how thankful you’ll feel when you are vacationing and Google’s Location Services notifies you that, based on your current GPS coordinates, there is no way in hell you’ll be able to physically make it in time for that forgotten meeting in the next hour? That is useful information! It’s too late and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it now, but Google will be there to let you know. Google Pedestrian will automatically show you the best route to take that will increase your odds of being run over by a car. Or Google Maps showing the best way to get trapped in the snow on a secluded mountain road.

Yes, endless possibilities for improving our lives. And, of course, imagine all of those services (and more) with context-based advertisements to enrich our lives.

What other bountiful benefits can you imagine from the cornucopia known as Google? How will your life be enriched?

A couple of weeks ago Yahoo! got a new CEO. He can earn up to $26 million in 2012 in cash, stock and bonuses.

This is an FYI: I’m available to do the job for less. Ah, shit. I can probably take as little at $500k and fuck the stock options and bonuses. I bring a wide array of skills to the table and I work lean and mean.

And I can use words like: synergy, win-win, “I got this,” blazin’, meggy, modernization, crowdsourcing, “low-hanging fruit” and social media. Oh, also: array and “lean and mean.”

I also have lots of ideas. Here’s a freebie to give you a wee taste: Don’t spend $26 million a year on a new hire.

Yahoo!, I await. Have your people call my people and we’ll do lunch.

Click to enlarge

Congratulations, everybody! We’re officially half-way through the Sweet 16. I guess that explains why I’m draggin’ and feel dead on my feet.

Yeah, a pun about dying. You know this shit is fun.

Last week was a squeaker with Electrocution giving Hypothermia the cold shoulder. I’d say it was shocking, but that would be one pun too many.

This week features a gonzo marquee match-up. Therefore our advertising rates have tripled. This is the one most of you have been waiting for. Even the bookies in Las Vegas are refusing to issue odds – and that’s sacrilege! Yep, sitting this one out is a clear sign this will be a fierce contest. Or maybe they just had too much meat at the city-wide 24-hour all-you-can-eat buffet?

Bear Attack vs Airplane Crash. Wow. It doesn’t get any better than this. Which is worse? Being a crunchy amuse bouche snack attack tartare for a playful ursus americanus? Or riding that roller coaster all the way down, helpless, completely out of control, often with plenty of time (measured in minutes) to know full well what is heading your way? (Usually the ground but sometimes the ocean.)

Yes, I think this one should be good. For bonus points try to think about getting rich on pornography or cheating on your wife during the act of voting. I hear tell that makes it much more fun!

If I designed that sign I wouldn't have split "apologize" and I would have put a space in "thank you." That's why I'm worth the big bucks.

Ah. What a dilemma. What to get the employee who has nothing?

It was mid-2011 and my wife’s employer had already announced there wouldn’t be any Christmas bonuses. A few key people were laid off and replaced with fresher and more inexpensive ones. (Good management is hard to miss.)

And yet, when Christmas rolled around, management had one more surprise up their sleeve. Yes, Virginia, there is a Christmas bonus, although, in this case, interpretation of the word “bonus” can be a wee bit tricky.

It was a little something that made my $50 Walmart gift card look like a gift from the Gods.

Can you even guess what her “bonus” might be? Close your eyes and try to imagine it before reading further.

My wife’s Christmas bonus was a book. On the front it proudly proclaimed that it would help you save thousands of dollars.

Yes, it was a coupon book.

The back of the book even contained one of my favorite phrases of all time. “It’s a win-win for all.” Isn’t it sad when your employer has a low opinion of themselves? I mean, don’t try to shield us from the glory of your magnificence or anything. It’s a gift. Be sure to tell us how you shine with awesomeness!

Even I had never heard of such a thing. I was impressed. They had managed to make a $50 gift card to Walmart actually looks good. I knew that took no small amount of skill.

I leafed through the book. It offered discounts on hearing aids, the gym, a sewing and quilting center, Segways (I shit you not), dog grooming, a local motel (when you want to get away from it all), a bucket of “range balls” at the golf course, window tinting, a fucking tanning salon, and, of course, a few restaurants.

I was impressed. They knew us better than I had ever guessed. They knew us enough to offer very little that we actually desired. Well played!

Out of curiosity, I grabbed a coupon for a restaurant we actually liked and checked out the fine print. It offered a whopping $5 off. Holy shit! Five whole dollars? Wowie! By Grabthar’s Hammer – wow, what a savings!

Nay, they opted to stay away from traditional savings like, “Buy one dinner and get another of equal or less value – FREE.” Something like that would be dangerously close to having actual value. Or even the eminently lame, “Buy one meal and get the second half price.” Which, in my neck of the woods, we call a 25% discount. It still works dramatically on the weak-minded.

Let us break down this coupon, shall we? As always, they seem confused by the word “any.”

• $5 off any purchase (but only on purchases of $25 or more). Thank God they added “or more.” Otherwise our options for savings would be extremely limited. It’s hard to spend exactly $25.
• Good only on Monday through Thursday. Oh yes, our Christmas bonus shouldn’t include the days we normally like to go out. We are only worthy enough for the “off” days.
• Good only “4 p.m. to close.” Good gravy, they even want to dictate the hours we can eat. Control freaks.
• Not valid on alcoholic beverages. Shit. There goes my reason to live.
• Not valid on to-go orders. I honestly can’t figure this one out. Why in the name of Zeus’ butthole would they actually want to increase the length of time I’ll be in their business? They must have a death wish.
• Coupon cannot be combined with any other offer. Now they’re just repeating shit they’ve heard elsewhere. Fools.
• And, for the finale, there’s an expiration date one year hence. Better get on enjoying your gift. Don’t delay or it’s worth nothing, sucka!

Now, for the record, I wish to officially state I am expanding my New Year’s resolutions to a total of two. Like my hero, Don Quixote, I am on a quest. My quest is to find another Christmas present that comes with as many restrictions at this coupon book.

Be of good cheer! If I complete this quest you’ll all be getting a gift from yours truly. Wish me luck!

Close-up view of Pete's colon. Tagline: Just when you thought a colon would stop at 41 pounds of processed meat...

What happened in Vegas didn’t stay in Vegas. It got pooped out in my home town…

I know this guy. And no, just this once, that isn’t code for talking about myself. Let us call him Pete.

He wakes up in the morning, rolls out of bed, and deems himself ready to take on the day. He doesn’t shower or comb his hair. I imagine he dresses himself in the dark. He slips his Crocs on his Fred Flinstone bare feet and slinks (as quietly as he is able) out of his bedroom at four in the morning lest he disturb his wife and be forced to interact with her.

I like wrinkles as much as the next man. I often refer to them as “the new cool.” But, as part of an entire ensemble, wrinkles can be the coup de grâce to put the proper finish on a very distinct look. Unkempt, unclean, unshaven and under-dressed.

That look that is so effective, people have asked me, “Does that guy bathe himself?” And that’s the look he cultivates for the world of business.

Two other things about this guy: He loves to eat and he loves a good value. (A word I now loathe to the Nth degree.)

If you ask him for his opinion on restaurants, he’ll tell you about the quantity of food they serve and neglect to say anything about other considerations. Things like, “Did it taste good?”

He’s a true connoisseur.

Maybe he has a background at McDonald’s. If you pay close attention, you’ll notice that their flagship product is called the Big Mac. It is decidedly not called the Good Mac. You might have never noticed this, and I’m here to tell you, this is completely by design. In the world of consumption it is better to be big than good.

Oh, the Mac, babe, has such beef, dear
And it’s plenty for many noshy bites
It’s a good time for the fake tast – dinner
At McDonald’s, it’s Mac tonight!

So this businessman had to go to Las Vegas. When he got back, I asked him how it was, and, did he have any fun? He doesn’t drink or gamble (what a waste) but I thought maybe he’d mention something about roller coasters or fighting the Borg or indoor skydiving or the arcade or going inside the world’s largest bottle of Coca-Cola or even seeing one-trillion M&M’s all in the same place. (They’ll even fill a swimming pool with them and let you take a dip.) Yes, there’s a LOT to do in Las Vegas.

He responded by telling me about the 24-hour all-you-can-eat buffet.

A buffet!!!

His hotel offered this deal on the buffet. For only $50 it was all you could eat for a 24-hour window. And it was good at various locations around town. The clock started ticking with the initial purchase, he said, and he went on to explain his strategy. (Doesn’t every good meal require a plan of attack?)

The trick, he said was to go around nine o’clock at night for a “late dinner.” Then you could have breakfast the next morning, lunch, and another dinner before time expired. That’s a whopping four meals if you have stratergized correctly. And that doesn’t include second breakfast (Hobbit style!) and a couple of quick trips for snacks.

But wait, that’s not all.

At the buffet he ate nothing but meat. He regaled me with tales of prime rib, chicken, ribs, pork, bacon, roasted turkey and on and on and on. Naively I asked, “Did you ever go back for seconds?” Oh yes, he exclaimed! He knocked back as much as he could.

I could swear he looked more leathery upon his return.

After telling me all about how much he had eaten, it occurred to me. He hadn’t said a single word about how good any of it was.

Weirdly enough, his visit was actually documented in Wikipedia:

Meanwhile, after seeing a television advertisement about “The Frying Dutchman”‘s all you can eat offer, Homer insists that Marge come dine with him, so he arranges for Laura to babysit Bart and Lisa in his and Marge’s absence. After being served by the Sea Captain, Homer eats an excessive amount of food and is thrown out. He sues the restaurant for deceptive advertisement. Lionel Hutz is employed by him to represent him in court, and the Sea Captain and Homer eventually agree that Homer shall be displayed in the restaurant as “Bottomless Pete: Nature’s Cruelest Mistake.”

Source: Wikipedia

Then he began talking about the value.

This is when I checked out of the conversation and my brain began to run hog wild.

First, I invented a new diet. It’s called the All Meat Raw Foods Diet. I guarantee that it will kill you within seven days or your money back!

Next, I realized that Las Vegas was partially on to something here. The 24-hour all-you-can-eat buffet is a good start, but there’s so much more they could do. It’s not like Las Vegas to do something half-assed. (Even though that half-ass would belong to a naked skank.)

What they really need to do is expand the network of participating locations around the strip so that no visitor will ever have to waddle more than half a block to the nearest trough. Next, they need to offer a yearly pass. 24-hours is child’s play. $50 times 365 days is $18,250. They could offer a ten percent “volume” discount and mark it down to $16,425. Now that’s a bargain truly worthy of Las Vegas.

The yearly all-you-can-eat buffet would make Las Vegas the equivalent of the largest land-locked luxury cruise ship in the world – only without the horny captain running around killing passengers. (It has been reported that Captain Schettino’s dinner companion on the night of the crash was on the first lifeboat off the ship and with all of her belongings, implying that she was given advance notice before the abandon ship call went out to other passengers.)

Then I thought about nutrition. I’m no dietary expert but a diet that consists of “eat five pounds of meat per sitting” can’t make much sense, can it? Just how far can the “at least they’re not carbs” thing be taken? Seriously!

And, almost finally, some thoughts about value. Obviously the “value” is directly proportional to the variables “price” and “quantity eaten.” To get more value, one must eat more meat!

Remember: Do not be diverted by anything “not meat.” Your tummy must have a single-minded determination to function at optimum efficiency for this challenge! Always remember: You are an American!!!

I worked it out a little something like this:

• Price: $50. Meat consumed in 24 hours: 1/2 pound. Result: You fucking suck! That’s a unit price of $100 per pound! Go back home you goddamned vegetarian!
• Price: $50. Meat consumed in 24 hours: 1 pound. Result: I guarantee you that meat wasn’t delicious enough for $50 a pound. Not that taste matters. Fail.
• Price: $50. Meat consumed in 24 hours: 5 pounds. Result: Now we’re getting somewhere. Five pounds is respectable, but that’s still paying $10 a pound. Bear down (figure of speech) and try harder.
• Price: $50. Meat consumed in 24 hours: 10 pounds. Result: You probably use a Slim Jim as a toothpick. You’re a-okay in my book. $5 per pound is an awesome value.
• Price: $50. Meat consumed in 24 hours: 20 pounds. Result: Congratulations! Gun nuts can now legally hunt you(as long as they have the correct license. Otherwise it is considered “poaching.” At only $2.50 per pound, you have successfully found and obtained the only “sure thing” in the den of iniquity known as Las Vegas. Homer Simpson himself bows down to you.

Oh, yeah. My final thought? I know, I know. I almost forgot. Thanks for reminding me. Remember, you asked for this…

Pete came back from Las Vegas with 42 pounds of extra “baggage” in his lower intestine. That’s baggage dumped into my fine city’s sewer treatment system. That’s a lot of added load. Personally I think Las Vegas owes my town a check to offset those operating costs.

And that’s how we do a poop post here in the Abyss! In yo face!