Dear You, Awwwwww . . .I notice from your message headerthat 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 MoodI'm in a typical Saturday mood tonightwhich 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 YouDust 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 TrailThis poor Renaissance Faire Wench was puking her guts out today I hope we get out of the mountains soon Skip in the Drive-ThroughStoats are kind of a crossbetween 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 JobYou 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 SeriouslyYeah I know what you're saying aboutme 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
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