Does anyone know how to get rid of A LOT of old office furnishings? Jesus Christmas have I got a bunch!
You operate in business for 79 years, you tend to...ahh..."accumulate" things. What in the name of Columbus am I ever going to do to get rid of it all? Old desks, chairs, dividers, adding machines, file folders, cabinets, myriads of office supplies...it is a mountain of stuff that MUST have value to someone. It's GOT to have value, because I need the money.
I have 14 tape dispensers alone...you know...the old style ones with fricken concrete in the base so it stays where you put it? People barely need one...I own a bakers dozen.
The auctioneer does not want to waste his time with the office stuff. After all, we only have one day to sell everything that will be sold, so we can't do it one stapler at a time. How 'bout a box of 23 for a $5? Hardly worth the effort.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
First Blood
I forgot to mention that while we were engaged in the fierce pitcher killing championship Monday night, John got a call from his youngest boy Zack. Seems Zack had just gotten his first deer with a bow and needed Dad to come out and give him a hand. So John left the bar and went to the woods to help his son in what was sure to be a memory making experience for both of them. These are the kind of moments that make me regret not having a child.
I remember my first bow killed deer and how I was so proud of that accomplishment. Thing is, there was nobody around to share my excitement. My Dad was, and still is, the 180 degree opposite of myself, and had never hunted a day in his life. Nobody congratulated me or encouraged me to retell the story over and over, and no one could quite understand my excitement let alone share in it.
Zack and John are completely different. They are attached at the hip when it comes to outdoors pursuits. Zack learns from John, and in turn John learns from Zack. This is a great start for a young hunter, and that quite frankly I wished I had also had.
I remember my first bow killed deer and how I was so proud of that accomplishment. Thing is, there was nobody around to share my excitement. My Dad was, and still is, the 180 degree opposite of myself, and had never hunted a day in his life. Nobody congratulated me or encouraged me to retell the story over and over, and no one could quite understand my excitement let alone share in it.
Zack and John are completely different. They are attached at the hip when it comes to outdoors pursuits. Zack learns from John, and in turn John learns from Zack. This is a great start for a young hunter, and that quite frankly I wished I had also had.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Ringers
I'm off the intellectual mode today and back to the woodsy he-man type. I choose modes every morning based on what I have to wear to work. Today it is boots, carhartts and gloves because I'm outside and dirty all day. Yesterday it was dress slacks and shirt, Born shoes and a leather jacket. I'm so versatile it's scary.
Last night I was called in as a pinch-hitter for the Kittle team at the local pub. Seems there is a corny college contest (say that five times fast) they have entered into, in which the only objective is to see which 4 person team can consume the most pitchers of beer during happy hour. The contest runs for an entire semester, and tallys are kept on a chart behind the bar. The prize is a T-Shirt, but ostensibly the real prize is in the pursuit.
Those poor frat boys will never know what hit them.
Our team consists of a newly-liberated hulk of a man, who just got done losing everything in a nasty divorce; an empty-nest afflicted married couple who party professionally; and myself...a broken man who is currently using alcohol as a major food group. Besides that, as Mike from our team so eloquently pointed out to a rival team...we have the financial wherewithal to bury them. "Sure you don't need to call home for some more money?" he says to our student rivals as we kill another pitcher.
Credit limits and availible time will alone decide this contest.
Last night I was called in as a pinch-hitter for the Kittle team at the local pub. Seems there is a corny college contest (say that five times fast) they have entered into, in which the only objective is to see which 4 person team can consume the most pitchers of beer during happy hour. The contest runs for an entire semester, and tallys are kept on a chart behind the bar. The prize is a T-Shirt, but ostensibly the real prize is in the pursuit.
Those poor frat boys will never know what hit them.
Our team consists of a newly-liberated hulk of a man, who just got done losing everything in a nasty divorce; an empty-nest afflicted married couple who party professionally; and myself...a broken man who is currently using alcohol as a major food group. Besides that, as Mike from our team so eloquently pointed out to a rival team...we have the financial wherewithal to bury them. "Sure you don't need to call home for some more money?" he says to our student rivals as we kill another pitcher.
Credit limits and availible time will alone decide this contest.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Hawkings Paradox
In 1989 I sat down and put my thoughts about a unified theory of Quantum Mechanics and Newtonian Physics on paper in an attempt to spell out a theory I was formulating based on black holes. The paper contained not one equation because I don't know dick about the mathematics of proofs. I just knew I had a hunch...and was trying with the English language rather than the language of math to explain how it might work. When it was finished, I had another Old Milwaukee, put the paper in the cabinet, and gloated to myself how a business student from Wisconsin had furthered the explanation of the Hawking Paradox, while Nobel prize winning physicists were stumped by it.
At that time I was completely fascinated by the work of Stephen Hawking. I still am, but the paradox has not exactly been at the forefront of my thoughts for the last 17 years, until last night.
On the science channel last night was a documentary titled...of all things..."The Hawking Paradox". It is a show about the "information problem" of his black hole work of 30 years. Basically, Hawking postulated that the "information" of matter IS, in fact, lost upon entering a black hole. This blasts the basic underpinning of all science that "information (matter)is never gained or lost...just redistributed. Detractors could never stomach this idea. I watched with keen interest as the roots of the problem were laid out. Opponents of Hawking's theory were granted ample airtime to relish the fact that Mr. Hawking was now apparently conceding defeat after 30 years. He had been wrong all along, but not for the reasons set forth by his detractors. This was new information, and the crux of the show, that Hawking had a new explanation to solve himself...that is...he had an answer for the paradox he himself had created. Matter is not lost after all, and he could prove it.
It gave me goosebumps to see that in those 17 years of time, Hawking himself had made progress TOWARDS MY THEORY! They (the theoretical physicists) still don't get it, are ignoring a basic constant, and are somewhat barking up the wrong universe in my opinion; but my basic ideas of what happens to this disappearing "information" are now being provided (albeit with the proper mathematical proofs I could never dream of creating) as the underpinnings of an answer to Hawking's Paradox. Someday, I will watch the news to learn that a brilliant young theoretical physicist has won the Nobel prize for codifying the REAL force...that of time...into the answer. Until then, the answer is staring them in the face and they can't see the forest for the trees. Forget the multiple-universe theory guys...it's not needed. Look to your recycling bin for the answer.
I KNOW so because I linguistically solved this problem in 1989 over a case of Old Milwaukee, and I was apparently on the right track if "the man" himself was working on similar lines of reasoning.
***Disclaimer***
I am in NO way implying that anyone stole my work or ideas. How could they? Only one other person ever read my paper, and he could not understand a word of it. I am simply pointing out the fact that my basic working model of the Paradox APPEARS to have been pointed in the right direction. Hawking and those working the problem are geniuses, I am not. Hawking et al have been trained and educated, I have not. I have no mathematical proof, nor the ability to provide such proof, and my conclusions are different than those provided by Hawking.
At that time I was completely fascinated by the work of Stephen Hawking. I still am, but the paradox has not exactly been at the forefront of my thoughts for the last 17 years, until last night.
On the science channel last night was a documentary titled...of all things..."The Hawking Paradox". It is a show about the "information problem" of his black hole work of 30 years. Basically, Hawking postulated that the "information" of matter IS, in fact, lost upon entering a black hole. This blasts the basic underpinning of all science that "information (matter)is never gained or lost...just redistributed. Detractors could never stomach this idea. I watched with keen interest as the roots of the problem were laid out. Opponents of Hawking's theory were granted ample airtime to relish the fact that Mr. Hawking was now apparently conceding defeat after 30 years. He had been wrong all along, but not for the reasons set forth by his detractors. This was new information, and the crux of the show, that Hawking had a new explanation to solve himself...that is...he had an answer for the paradox he himself had created. Matter is not lost after all, and he could prove it.
It gave me goosebumps to see that in those 17 years of time, Hawking himself had made progress TOWARDS MY THEORY! They (the theoretical physicists) still don't get it, are ignoring a basic constant, and are somewhat barking up the wrong universe in my opinion; but my basic ideas of what happens to this disappearing "information" are now being provided (albeit with the proper mathematical proofs I could never dream of creating) as the underpinnings of an answer to Hawking's Paradox. Someday, I will watch the news to learn that a brilliant young theoretical physicist has won the Nobel prize for codifying the REAL force...that of time...into the answer. Until then, the answer is staring them in the face and they can't see the forest for the trees. Forget the multiple-universe theory guys...it's not needed. Look to your recycling bin for the answer.
I KNOW so because I linguistically solved this problem in 1989 over a case of Old Milwaukee, and I was apparently on the right track if "the man" himself was working on similar lines of reasoning.
***Disclaimer***
I am in NO way implying that anyone stole my work or ideas. How could they? Only one other person ever read my paper, and he could not understand a word of it. I am simply pointing out the fact that my basic working model of the Paradox APPEARS to have been pointed in the right direction. Hawking and those working the problem are geniuses, I am not. Hawking et al have been trained and educated, I have not. I have no mathematical proof, nor the ability to provide such proof, and my conclusions are different than those provided by Hawking.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Guilty as charged
I'll admit it: I took the ENTIRE day off yesterday and went pheasant hunting with John.
I needed the release of spending some time in the field, and we got two absolutely gorgeous ringnecks for our miles and miles of walking.
John's lab Chyna is the most wonderful flushing retriever I have ever had the privilege to work with. Yesterday, she made the best "blind" retrieve I have ever seen an upland dog perform, and we put up dozens of birds throughout the day.
While walking an earthen dam holding back a huge swamp in the middle of a CRP field, Chyna got "birdy", turned on a dime and flushed a ringneck rooster near the waters edge. I shot twice and the bird cartwheeled out of the air, but it hit the ground very much alive...and in the middle of the swamp.
Chyna had not seen the bird fall because of the tall cattails, and ran ahead about 60 yards. John looked at me and said "one of us getting VERY wet over this bird", and I agreed it should be me. John said he would try to direct Chyna first, but if it failed I would be swimming.
He went as far out as he could into the swamp, then called Chyna back and sent her out in front with a wave of his arm. The water was so deep she was swimming, not wading, when she got to the approximate spot we thought the bird was. She cast back and forth over the swampy crap for a minute, then took off splashing to her right. Moments later, she appeared swimming back to John with the live bird in her mouth...25 yards from where the bird had landed.
It was a thing of beauty watching that dog find and retrieve that bird. Blind retrieves are hard enough, but add in a moving bird and the watery conditions, and you will stump some of the best upland bird dogs out there. John was so proud of his dog he got a little choked up.
Rightfully so.
I needed the release of spending some time in the field, and we got two absolutely gorgeous ringnecks for our miles and miles of walking.
John's lab Chyna is the most wonderful flushing retriever I have ever had the privilege to work with. Yesterday, she made the best "blind" retrieve I have ever seen an upland dog perform, and we put up dozens of birds throughout the day.
While walking an earthen dam holding back a huge swamp in the middle of a CRP field, Chyna got "birdy", turned on a dime and flushed a ringneck rooster near the waters edge. I shot twice and the bird cartwheeled out of the air, but it hit the ground very much alive...and in the middle of the swamp.
Chyna had not seen the bird fall because of the tall cattails, and ran ahead about 60 yards. John looked at me and said "one of us getting VERY wet over this bird", and I agreed it should be me. John said he would try to direct Chyna first, but if it failed I would be swimming.
He went as far out as he could into the swamp, then called Chyna back and sent her out in front with a wave of his arm. The water was so deep she was swimming, not wading, when she got to the approximate spot we thought the bird was. She cast back and forth over the swampy crap for a minute, then took off splashing to her right. Moments later, she appeared swimming back to John with the live bird in her mouth...25 yards from where the bird had landed.
It was a thing of beauty watching that dog find and retrieve that bird. Blind retrieves are hard enough, but add in a moving bird and the watery conditions, and you will stump some of the best upland bird dogs out there. John was so proud of his dog he got a little choked up.
Rightfully so.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Interesting Gomer Facts
Gomer's net worth in 1998: $1.5 million
Gomer's net worth in 2006: Somewhere in negative territory.
Gomer's estimated tax bill for ending the suffering: $60,000 and change.
Gomer's time to pay the tax bill: 1 Year
Gomer's Company tax payments to FUTA and SUTA over the years: Millions.
Gomer's eligible Unemployment compensation from those funds: $0.00
Gomer's theory on the whole sordid mess?: "As long as my mangled, bloody carcass remains, there will be someone there cracking bones for the marrow".
Gomer's net worth in 2006: Somewhere in negative territory.
Gomer's estimated tax bill for ending the suffering: $60,000 and change.
Gomer's time to pay the tax bill: 1 Year
Gomer's Company tax payments to FUTA and SUTA over the years: Millions.
Gomer's eligible Unemployment compensation from those funds: $0.00
Gomer's theory on the whole sordid mess?: "As long as my mangled, bloody carcass remains, there will be someone there cracking bones for the marrow".
X-actly how long?
Aaahhh! Here come those collections calls. No more fibbing, no more beating around the proverbial bush. Now I can say with complete and total honesty that nothing whatsoever will happen with your payment until December. Most people who have called are shocked by the brutal honesty. You tell someone right to their face you are planning to completely ignore their ass for two months, all they can do is pick up their jaw. Such honesty should be rewarded in business...but unfortunately it never is. At least they know where they stand! Save some money on the phone calls I tell them.
Truth is that until the public auction is over, I can't do anything about it. You gotta have a total on "X" before you can say how big a share of "X" is coming your way.
I have been swamped by the shitpickers: carrion feeders whose job it is to take wild stabs at purchasing your stuff for pennies on the dollar. Nice try guys. It's bad...but the building is not on fire. Some people would be tempted to take the easy sale at lower money just to be rid of the headache. Not me. Getting top dollar for my assets is my new career for the next two months, and I've got nothing better to do.
Truth is that until the public auction is over, I can't do anything about it. You gotta have a total on "X" before you can say how big a share of "X" is coming your way.
I have been swamped by the shitpickers: carrion feeders whose job it is to take wild stabs at purchasing your stuff for pennies on the dollar. Nice try guys. It's bad...but the building is not on fire. Some people would be tempted to take the easy sale at lower money just to be rid of the headache. Not me. Getting top dollar for my assets is my new career for the next two months, and I've got nothing better to do.
Friday, October 13, 2006
The surreal life
You would think I would be quite insane at this...at the end of this tumultuous ride...but I'm really not. Things are for the most part calm and orderly. I have not yet breathed the huge sigh of relief I thought I might. It's somewhere in me, but there is enough crap and uncertainty remaining to keep it suppressed for a bit.
I'm an hour and a half away from unemployment. My operations manager is crying. The vermin have already started pilfering from me, so I have to guard my possessions like some apocalyptic Mad Max. It's surreal.
I'm going beyond thunderdome to have a beer. It's been one hell of a ride, drink up boys.
Here's to a 79 year old institution that some fucking 6 month employee thinks they can disassemble and take home pieces of in their pockets.
Cheers.
I'm an hour and a half away from unemployment. My operations manager is crying. The vermin have already started pilfering from me, so I have to guard my possessions like some apocalyptic Mad Max. It's surreal.
I'm going beyond thunderdome to have a beer. It's been one hell of a ride, drink up boys.
Here's to a 79 year old institution that some fucking 6 month employee thinks they can disassemble and take home pieces of in their pockets.
Cheers.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Sorry I have not been around
What a fricken zoo this week has been. I'm sure you can imagine. The changeover is nearing completion, but there are still hundreds of problems to be solved.
I have not had any Internet or email for three days because some dipshit switched the wrong switch on Tuesday during a routine phone service call. My inbox has 786 messages, some of them critical, which I just regained access to. Woooboy! There are going to be some pissed off people!
I'll be here Monday, and for the near future wrapping things up. I can finally surf the porn sites on DSL because I "aint no mo a bidness". I can finally have a beer in my office and quit pretending I'm working. I can finally use the (much nicer) women's bathroom without worrying about leaving a lingering smell.
Just kidding.
I've always done these!
I have not had any Internet or email for three days because some dipshit switched the wrong switch on Tuesday during a routine phone service call. My inbox has 786 messages, some of them critical, which I just regained access to. Woooboy! There are going to be some pissed off people!
I'll be here Monday, and for the near future wrapping things up. I can finally surf the porn sites on DSL because I "aint no mo a bidness". I can finally have a beer in my office and quit pretending I'm working. I can finally use the (much nicer) women's bathroom without worrying about leaving a lingering smell.
Just kidding.
I've always done these!
Monday, October 09, 2006
Requiem for a Business
Today it is public so I can finally talk about it. My company will officially close this Friday the 13th. This has been a long and agonizing road that began last November, and it's a road I wished I could have a avoided, but all the detours I tried always led back to it. Now we are at it's end and the sign reads "Road Closed". It truly is an odd thing to plan one's own destruction. What has been my family's lifeblood since 1927 is now going to whither and die in a sure-to-be-painful "ordeal by attorney". Community shame, finacial ruin, and character assasination are but three of the things keeping company with the thoughts of my Grandfather rolling in his grave. He tought me much...I owed him more than I repayed in this role.
There are a lot of unhappy people today, not the least of which is myself and my family. It is unfortunate that all who will eventually think so lowly of me for uprooting their lives could not have been with me on the inside for the last 5 years. If they were, they would have seen all the things that were tried. They would have seen the emotional pain, the moral crevasses, and the routinue finacial torture I endured. I prolonged it for them, for their families and future. I tried for many years and many hundreds of thousands of personal dollars to salvage employment for 40 wonderful people; long after it was clear the writing on the wall foretold our demise. This cocktail of futility and responsibility has simply become more than one person can continue to bear, and what has continued beyond all reason and sound fiscal judgement, must now be abandoned altogether lest I be judged insane. It is too late, and I'm in too deep to make many positive steps for myself. Hopefully, those whose loyalty I counted for years will have better prospects. They deserve great things which I could not acheive for them. I wish them all good luck and happiness, and would want them to know I sacrificed everything I had to give it a chance.
So...it's off on my road to the future. Where that goes I have not a clue, but it's already socked in with a fog. There is very little money in drinking these days; even less in competitive fishing. The former I have developed a knack for, and the latter is but a boyhood pipe dream. Both are amongst the lowly few of my availible skills, though I've also gotten pretty damn good at owing money and being regularly ass-raped by insurance and oil companies. Those skills, however, don't ever seem to show up on a job qualification list.
While I appear bitter, I am really not. We all make our own beds in which we lie, I just had a couple of devious housemaids helping me with mine...and they were relentless. But instead of railing against that which could be proven culpable, I must blame myself. After all, the buck stops here, with me, and no amount of finger pointing will do a damn bit of good. The responsibility that will be placed at my feet by those who feel wronged is too complicated to explain. Better there be a single man at whom to thrust the spear of accusation rather than some distant chain of events. After all...it is I who will ultimately bear the legacy of the weapon's final stroke.
Henceforth when I sign on and post, it will be a different world and a different man. The whipping boy is dead...punished beyond recognition for events he could not control. In his place is a new man; born out of hope, and seeking a shovel that does not dig holes at twice his capacity to refill. I will NEVER be in this position again...ever. No man will rely on me for his livelihood, and no man will hold mine hostage. I'm through with unrequited favors, unacknowledged sacrifices, and ungrateful beneficiaries. I'm done with thieves, ill-informed neighsayers, and those whose ethics could not be found with an investigatory team. I'm tired of many, many things, but mostly I'm just tired of the fight. No...I take that back...I'm tired of losing the fight; but I battle no more for the war is lost. That, at least, provides some solace.
There are a lot of unhappy people today, not the least of which is myself and my family. It is unfortunate that all who will eventually think so lowly of me for uprooting their lives could not have been with me on the inside for the last 5 years. If they were, they would have seen all the things that were tried. They would have seen the emotional pain, the moral crevasses, and the routinue finacial torture I endured. I prolonged it for them, for their families and future. I tried for many years and many hundreds of thousands of personal dollars to salvage employment for 40 wonderful people; long after it was clear the writing on the wall foretold our demise. This cocktail of futility and responsibility has simply become more than one person can continue to bear, and what has continued beyond all reason and sound fiscal judgement, must now be abandoned altogether lest I be judged insane. It is too late, and I'm in too deep to make many positive steps for myself. Hopefully, those whose loyalty I counted for years will have better prospects. They deserve great things which I could not acheive for them. I wish them all good luck and happiness, and would want them to know I sacrificed everything I had to give it a chance.
So...it's off on my road to the future. Where that goes I have not a clue, but it's already socked in with a fog. There is very little money in drinking these days; even less in competitive fishing. The former I have developed a knack for, and the latter is but a boyhood pipe dream. Both are amongst the lowly few of my availible skills, though I've also gotten pretty damn good at owing money and being regularly ass-raped by insurance and oil companies. Those skills, however, don't ever seem to show up on a job qualification list.
While I appear bitter, I am really not. We all make our own beds in which we lie, I just had a couple of devious housemaids helping me with mine...and they were relentless. But instead of railing against that which could be proven culpable, I must blame myself. After all, the buck stops here, with me, and no amount of finger pointing will do a damn bit of good. The responsibility that will be placed at my feet by those who feel wronged is too complicated to explain. Better there be a single man at whom to thrust the spear of accusation rather than some distant chain of events. After all...it is I who will ultimately bear the legacy of the weapon's final stroke.
Henceforth when I sign on and post, it will be a different world and a different man. The whipping boy is dead...punished beyond recognition for events he could not control. In his place is a new man; born out of hope, and seeking a shovel that does not dig holes at twice his capacity to refill. I will NEVER be in this position again...ever. No man will rely on me for his livelihood, and no man will hold mine hostage. I'm through with unrequited favors, unacknowledged sacrifices, and ungrateful beneficiaries. I'm done with thieves, ill-informed neighsayers, and those whose ethics could not be found with an investigatory team. I'm tired of many, many things, but mostly I'm just tired of the fight. No...I take that back...I'm tired of losing the fight; but I battle no more for the war is lost. That, at least, provides some solace.
Monday, October 02, 2006
Weeeee R the champions, my friend.
My team, team Kittle, won the 2006 Fall sporting clays league yesterday after an exciting shoot off in which I played no significant role. I really contributed to the overall team score for the season, but boy did I ever step on it during the team Vs. team shoot off to decide first place. Luckily, the rest of the team brought their "A" game, and we won the shoot off by 14 targets. We got a nice trophy and a lot of congratulations...and no little amount of bragging rights.
More important to me was my individual championship for Class "B" shooters, which I won in a 10 target shoot off to decide the championship. I got a huge plaque for that, but I never thought I would even be in the finals. There are some phenom shooters in Class B, any one of which deserved to win, but I had a "magical" round in the shoot off and took home the title. Cool beans considering our team captain John took home the Class "A" title, and another member of our team was in a shoot off for Class "C" which he unfortunately lost.
It was a great time.
More important to me was my individual championship for Class "B" shooters, which I won in a 10 target shoot off to decide the championship. I got a huge plaque for that, but I never thought I would even be in the finals. There are some phenom shooters in Class B, any one of which deserved to win, but I had a "magical" round in the shoot off and took home the title. Cool beans considering our team captain John took home the Class "A" title, and another member of our team was in a shoot off for Class "C" which he unfortunately lost.
It was a great time.
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