CEO Presentation Day

A momentous day. The big CEO presentation day, the showdown, the Thrilla in PowerPoint, the Demo for The Ages, the time to fish or cut bait, shit or get off the pot, get him to sign on the line which is dotted, close the motherfucking deal, make the bastard believe, make him buy what you are selling, make him buy you, who you are, why you are, why you are valuable to the company, to humanity, to him personally. Make him know why you should continue to take up cube space, a parking space, have lunch at the subsidized employee café, breathe company air, why your name shouldn’t be on the next layoff list.

Look at my shit. Buy my shit. You cocksucker. I’m going to make you money. I’m going to help you keep your job, your ugly yellow Lamborghini, your trophy wife who seems as dumb as bag of hammers. You putz. You empty suit. You waste of a good head of hair. Go fuck yourself.

And support my product. Give me lots of money to make it. And a big marketing budget would be nice.

Thank you.

Seems We Don't Need Cold Fusion

Most of yesterday we spent talking a lot about cold fusion and the cure for AIDS, why we need them, what was in the way of getting them, how great life would be if we could have them, and some potential ideas about where unicorns with their life saving farts might be hiding.

At the end of the day, our CEO walks in for a chat, and eventualy let's us know that cold fusion is no longer needed, as the fusion we have is just fine, just perfect, couldn't be better, best fusion ever, why would we even bother with cold fusion? But maybe, if we can find a unicorn somewhere, and if maybe we we can capture some of the wind it might have passed, then perhaps he would take a whiff. Maybe.

Where did I put that unicorn net?