Maybe it’s the rising heat of summer, but things have finally gotten to Douglas, our Creative Director (or as we more aptly refer to him, Slave to the Comedy Machine). He needs a break to rest and think up more funny.
So the bad news is that we’re going to suspend the blog posts for a little while, but good news is that we’ll pick them back up in late July just in time for the release of Season 3’s new video content! So sit back, enjoy a refreshing beverage of your choice, maybe catch a soccer game on the boob tube, and rest your eyes. We’ll be coming back at you in a few weeks with new and improved hilarity! See you then!
Okay, I’m going to defy my normal operating protocol and let you in on a little detail of my operation. You gotta promise not to tell anyone about this because it’s classified level: Cayenne. Yes, my secret levels are peppers. What are yours? Colors? Oh c’mon. That’s soooo Homeland Security. Don’t bring your weak-sauce “color scheme” B-game when you’re playing on my court, kiddo.
Anyway I play golf once a month with a guy I know at our arch-competitor, Nussey, Zucker, and Milch. It’s a casual game, or so I’d like him to think. The truth is that I use it to ferret out intel from him about how things are going with them. I’m mostly interested in the usual stuff that it in that fertile area below company top secrets (like what are their financials like this quarter) and above thinly-veiled intentional marketing leaks (Oh wow, did I leave my top-secret prototype iPhone at the bar? Man, I need to be more careful with that thing or Steve’s gonna be ticked!).
So there’s not much to report this month, but let’s just say I need to make sure I don’t cancel next month, since I’ve got a big feeling that they’re on the verge of making some kind of big announcement and I need to get the jump on it. My guy was acting all cagey, but he let me take a second mulligan on the back nine. My research shows when he does that, they announce a new product an average of 6.8 weeks later.
You see? That’s why I got game, kid. Keep your eyes and ears open and you might learn a few things.
It seems that the summer has finally arrived, because like the purple martins coming back to … where is it? Ah yes, Cucamonga. Yes, like them with their regularity, Tom has invited the entire office to a boat outing for Memorial Day. I was used to spending the time around Memorial Day being forced to watch tanks roll up and down our town square, so this offered an interesting change.
As you may recall, the last boat outing ended very badly. I will not shame our distinguished leader by recounting it in detail, but suffice it to say that Tom insisted we all come out for a trip around the lake, a bit of awkward and unavoidable social time together, and an opportunity to expose our skin to destructive, carcinogenic radiation. Regardless I wished to make Tom’s invitation successful, so I arrived on time only to find I was the only one to have accepted. We shared a brief shameful moment at the realization.
Tom, ever the consummate host, nevertheless insisted we sail around the lake a bit. As we set out, Tom piloted the boat clumsily, yet pulled us out into the main flow of traffic after fewer than seventeen attempts. As we puttered about the large lake, there were very, very many others who were also inexperienced and likely intoxicated. I silently hoped that Tom would steer clear of them.
Unfortunately, we drew within a few feet of another boat whose occupants were all dressed like seamen. Oh, pirates, yes. Suddely as we passed by they threw a grappling hook, which caught on the front handrail. The burly seamen began to reel us in. Tom attempted to steer us away, but they were already aboard.
“Dude, where’s your beer?” said one moments before Tom knocked him overboard with a boathook. “You scratched my new deck!” Tom shouted after him. Meanwhile I was busy subduing two others who had stepped onto the foredeck. Within seconds I had lashed one to the mast and thrown the other back into the boat from whence they had originated. The attack ended just as quickly as it had begun.
As we sailed back to the harbor to drop off our new passenger at the harbormaster’s office, Tom remarked at what an amazing team we’d made fending off the intruders. I blushed self-consciously, unwilling to admit that I had been a little slow to react and that my skills garnered from years of fending Somali pirates off from commercial freighters had obviously gotten rusty. I simply thanked him and remained quiet. Upon reaching land again, he insisted that we must go boating again. I nodded, this time with no hope that we would be joined by our landlubber coworkers. We would be able to handle the pirates just fine ourselves.
SO I’ve been pretty much ultra-quiet lately, and mostly because I have no idea what’s going on around me. I mean everyone’s going into these meetings and talking about something big that’s going to happen, but I have no idea what it’s all about. Normally someone will come in and tell me if it’s something that I need to know about, and then I’m all like, cool, you know. But with this big stack of purchase orders I need to get filled and the new Sex in the City movie coming out, it’s taking like all of my concentration just to keep on top of these two things. So I really just can’t be bothered with whatever is going on in Tom’s office or wherever.
Still, there’s nothing like being the one with all the information. It’s like being the center of the universe. I really hope that I find a way to figure out what’s going on. I mean, without having to worry about it. ‘Cause that’s one thing I don’t have time for.
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