tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-96128552023-07-12T02:12:48.285-07:00Adventures In Someplace SpecialThe lighthearted adventures of the Glop factory in the Land Of Someplace Special.Bad Karma Manhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491170029214493588noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9612855.post-1104430522925839072004-12-30T13:15:00.000-08:002004-12-30T10:15:22.926-08:00Leadership IIOne of The Employees objected to being bludgeoned repeatedly with an axe. She found a way to make her own axe, and soon, all The Employees had axes. If a member of The Management bludgeoned an Employee with and axe, The Manager in turn was pummeled with axes.
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<br />Thus, a <em>union </em>was born.
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<br />The Management grew tired of The Employees bludgeoning them with axes. Soon, everyone was busy bludgeoning each other, and nothing was getting done. A reasonable compromise had to be reached. So, a particularly thick headed Manager, and one particularly thick headed Employee met in a circle and bludgeoned each other until The Manger got tired and gave up.
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<br />Thus, <em>negotiation </em>was born.
<br /><p>But now the bountiful valley was ruined. Where once wildlife and beauty prospered twisted, blackened stumps remained. The Management had to act fast. It would take awhile for the twisted blackness to return to its natural pristine condition. He had to convince the other Managers and The Employees to stay where they were. So he opened his mouth just so, and the words fell out and The Managers and Employees were convinced.</p><p>Thus, <em>marketing</em> was born.</p><p>The twisted, blackened stumps were named <em>The Land of Someplace Special</em>.</p><p></p>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491170029214493588noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9612855.post-1104429307279376522004-12-30T13:00:00.000-08:002004-12-30T09:55:07.280-08:00Leadership A long time ago in a place far, far away lived a primitive species of humanoid. These humanoids learned to communicate by subvocal grunts, whistles and gestures. Then came the truly remarkable breakthrough. Those that could communicate most effectively in grunts, whistles and gestures organized themselves into a group to maximize their advantage.
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<br /> Thus, <em>corporate organization</em> was born.
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<br />Those that could not communicate effectively were left behind. They had two options. They could learn what the other group was doing, and gain the advantage in obtaining resources, or they could die of starvation. So...the non talkers sent spies among the talkers to find out what they were doing.
<br /> Thus, <em>corporate intelligence</em> was born.
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<br />Soon there were two groups of humanoids that were grunting, subvocalizing, and gesturing merrily. To the original group of beings who figured out how to talk, this was a blow to their pride and group identity. So some clever souls figured out a way to make themselves different from the other group by speaking differently from the copy cat group. They also learned that some water, yeast, barley and hops left alone for awhile to ferment made a tasty beverage with which to drown one's sorrows. Sadly, the advent of Monday Night Football was still millenia away. These original speakers would call themselves by a different name than the group that learned to speak secondly.
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<br /> Thus, the first group were called <em>employees</em> .
<br /> The second group named themselves <em>management.</em>
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<br />To those that called themselves <em>The Management</em>, the group called <em>The Employees</em> were posing a problem. They seemed to always be just a step or two ahead of what The Management was doing. So, in what passed for a bright idea in those days, a member of The Management had the only bright idea in recorded history. He picked up two rocks and a stick. One rock flaked easily and was later called flint. He used this to fashion a point. He then took a stick and began beating his fellow tribe members. After a short while, fellow tribe members grew tired of getting beat with a stick and got sticks of their own. Then the first fellow tied the flint point to the stick and the other tribe members knew he meant business.
<br /> Thus, the first <em>promotion</em> took place.
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<br />As all the excitement was taking place with The Management, The Employees were thriving. Instead of fighting amongst themselves, they forged alliances and learned to get along. They hunted. They gathered. They prospered.
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<br />Meanwhile, things with The Management were not going as well. Everyone had sticks, but one fellow had an axe, and he liked to grind it. Instead of brandishing the axe, he simply held up the other rock he carried to illustrate he was willing to use what was needed to maintain power.
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<br /> Thus, <em>corporate policy</em> was born.
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<br />All the muscle flexing and chest thumping The Management was doing wasn't adding food to the community supply and group members were complaining. They complained to The Manager, who pretended to listen. Then he hit them with an axe. They soon learned not to complain.
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<br /> This became known as <em>constructive feedback</em>.
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<br />The Manager had to act fast. Axe or no axe he had a problem. Bellies were growling and there were a lot more tribe members than him. It all boiled down to numbers. So, he passed out flint to everyone and showed them how to afix it to their sticks. A few began beating on each other. The Manager cautioned against it. After everyone had an axe, The Manager lead the group over the hill down into the bountiful valley where The Employees prospered in harmony. So The Management beat The Employees over the head with axes. After a short time, The Employees didn't like getting bludgeoned repeatedly and did what The Management said. The Management took the land of The Employees and the recipe for their tasty beverage. Soon, The Employees did exactly what The Management said and did all the work to give The Management all the spoils of their labor, or else get pounded over the head. That was Corporate Policy.
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<br /> Thus, <em>leadership </em>was born.
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491170029214493588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9612855.post-1103310702163933442004-12-24T11:40:00.000-08:002004-12-24T08:33:04.313-08:00Canceling Christmas<strong>The Office</strong>
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<br />Napoleon strode to Frankie's office purposefully. It was time to suck up. Hopefully he wouldn't notice his manager's chair was still warm from Napoleon sitting in it. In time the chair and its office would be his, but not today.
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<br />Napoleon knocked on the door. Frankie sat happily punching buttons on the phone, making "official decisions" and ordering lunch.
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<br />"Come in." Napoleon entered.
<br />"Sir we..."
<br />"Sir? You call me <em>Sir</em>?"
<br />"Sorry. Excellency..."
<br />"Better."
<br />"Yes Excellency. It seems we have a problem at the glop factory."
<br />"We have a glop factory?" The low sloping forehead knitted two caterpillar like brows into one.
<br />"So it would seem."
<br />"And the problem is?"
<br />"The problem is..." Napoleon cleared his throat nervously.
<br />"The problem is they want Christmas off."
<br />"<strong>Christmas off?</strong>"
<br />"Yes sir."
<br />"What's Christmas?"
<br />"Some Jewish holiday."
<br />"We have Jewish employees?"
<br />"You're missing the point excellency." Napoleon made his breathing even.
<br />"What is the point, exactly?"
<br />Naploeon whispered.
<br />"What's that you say?"
<br />"It's a day off work."
<br />"<strong>WHAT!?"</strong>
<br />"Exactly."
<br />"What's the world coming to?"
<br />"My point exactly sire." Napoleon rocked gently back and forth on the balls of his feet, hoping Frankie got to the point sometime before the next Ice Age.
<br />Frankie furrowed his craggy brows, concentrating furiously. Wisps of smoke wafted from glowing hot electrodes in his neck. An idea! He had one! Finally!
<br />"What is the competition doing?"
<br />"The competition?"
<br />"Is there an echo in here?"
<br />"Sorry." Napoleon looked down.
<br />"Yes, our competition. Surely <em>other</em> companies make glop don't they?"
<br />Napoleon was amazed.
<br />"<em>Other companies?</em>"
<br />He obviously wasn't taking this well, Frankie thought.
<br />"Napoleon, listen."
<br />Napoleon was still reeling from Frankie's last comment. He looked deep into Frankie's bloodshot eyes.
<br />"We are the only factory that makes glop?"
<br />Napoleon shook his head.
<br />"What are <em>they</em> doing?"
<br />Napoleon shrugged. <strong><em>"Other companies" </em></strong>indeed!
<br />Frankie sighed, breath escaping from clenched teeth. His underbite fairly quivered.
<br />"Being that this is the Land of Someplace Special and that we take a backseat to no one, I hereby decree that the Glop factory will given this holiday called Christmas off just because everyone else is."
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<br />Napoleon's disposition brightened.
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<br />"Napoleon, I am depending on <strong>you</strong> to carry this out." Napoleon brightened. His very own command!
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<br />He took the outstretched decree from Frankie's hand and strode to the door.
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<br />"Sire, there <strong><em>is</em></strong> one more thing."
<br />"What is it?"
<br />"What shall we do about New Year's day?"
<br />"What's New Year's Day?"
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<br />Stay tuned for the next exciting installment "Leadership"
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<br />Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9612855.post-1103052255064114902004-12-14T11:06:00.000-08:002004-12-14T11:27:58.183-08:00Welcome To Somplace SpecialGreetings!
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<br />Welcome to my Blog! I am your host, Mr. Roark...no wait, sorry, that one's already taken. I am the infamous Bad Karma Man, Defiler of All Sacred Cows and Defender of the Faithless. This blog is a work of fiction. If it weren't, I'd probably get fired and/or sued. The characters, portrayals, and events depicted herein are fictitious and are is entirely for entertainment purposes.
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<br />The Setting: The Glop Factory
<br />The Place: Someplace Special
<br />Characters:
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<br />Slowhand The Amish Gigilo - Slender red headed ex- Amish with a fondness for death metal and teen girls. Early Thirties.
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<br />Betsey - Older, 50ish Mom/Grandma. Dark hair from a bottle. World weary and a talented seamstress. Usual occupation: Keeping Chrissy from being taken advantage of.
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<br />Chrissy - Blonde, slender college student. Extremely pretty, but doesn't realize it. Very, <strong>very</strong> naive. Usual task: working, working working. Easily persuaded.
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<br />Chocolate Thunder - Middle thirties, street smart, good looking black gentleman. Pretends to be a playa, or at least a gigilo. Usual task: attemting to talk anything female into climbing into his bed. Natural foe of Betsey.
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<br />Comrade Malcom - Older black gentleman. Very distinguished, well versed in Marxist theology. Used to hang out in the Black Power movement in the 60's.
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<br />Bad Karma Man - Just doesn't care. Designated scapegoat. Despoiler of the Holy of Holies. Tells the emperor he's not wearing any clothes. Possessed of incredibly bad luck in the land of Someplace Special.
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<br /><strong>The Beautiful People</strong>
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<br />Napoleon Dynamite - Walkin' Proud, Talkin' Loud. About 5 feet tall. Obviously picked on most of his life. Has a facination for large machinery and large guns. Can you say <strong>"overcompensating" </strong>? Default manager when Frankie's not around, which is often.
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<br />Frankie - Resembles Herman Munster. Large underbite. Electrodes bolted to neck. He is The Supreme Commander of All Things in the Glop Factory. Napoleon reports to him, as to all members of the glop factory. Usually not present, due to needing constant service on electrodes and other Frankenstein-like body parts.
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<br />Stay tuned for our next episode: "Cancelling Christmas" !
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10491170029214493588noreply@blogger.com0