Reading The Signs

I have done many things in my life. I know I did them. I was there.

I don’t feel a need to brag. I don’t have to point and yell “Hey! Look what I did! Look!”

I did it. I know it. It’s done. I have moved along, as they say (if not do).

There are people out there who DO feel the need to incessantly trumpet their meager “accomplishments” every day of their lives. I don’t think these people are trying to inform anyone of how accomplished they are. I think they crave external validation. They need that pat on the head, the little hug, the “Hey, great job dealing with the luck of the draw getting on The Price Is Right, winning a sewing machine and some much-needed mouthwash on a blind guess, and then going 0-for-12 in the one game that you could have won with a tiny bit of actual thought.”

People like this are begging to be propped up, to be told they matter, to be told their failures are actually successes.

(Hint: in a world where anyone can publish a book, it’s not until one counts the cost in time and effort and measures the return on that investment that one determines whether work has turned a profit. But if you think your time and effort has no value, who am I to judge your calculation of profit?)

Why? Who needs to be told they’re not an abject failure? Who needs constant validation so desperately?

Weak people. Uncertain people. Inadequate people.

But hey – it takes all kinds to make up a world.


Why "Brass-Knuckles Reputation Management" Fails

It’s not because it’s a foolish tactic, even though it’s a very foolish tactic.

It’s not because a person isn’t actually a good person, even though he isn’t actually a good person.

It’s much, much simpler than that.

It takes 20 years to build a reputation and five minutes to ruin it. If you think about that, you’ll do things differently.

Warren Buffett

A good reputation is hard to build and easy to lose. Once lost it is even more difficult to rebuild. It can be done, but there are certain things that must be done. They are not optional.

Responsibility – if you want your good name back, you must take full ownership of your bad acts. No blaming others, no quibbles, no arguments. “I robbed that bank.”

Apology – any effort at rehabilitating a reputation is incomplete and useless without this. A sincere apology has four parts: admission of wrongdoing, recognition of the repercussions, a request for forgiveness and acceptance of responsibility.
A. “I robbed that bank.”
B. “I know it was wrong to rob that bank.”
C. “Please forgive me for robbing that bank.”
D. “I know I should go to jail for robbing that bank.”

Restitution – if you can’t or won’t accept responsibility for things you have done, if you can’t or won’t apologize and seek forgiveness for what you have done, then making restitution is certain to be a bridge too far. If you can’t at least make an effort to pay for or to undo the damage you’ve inflicted, you’re lost.

What I find interesting is the way that people generally fall on either side of a line dividing those who understand and accept these concepts are fact, and those who reject them. And once divided, they tend to self-reinforce.

People will expend enormous energy defending bad people, and then wonder why others think they are also bad people. They will routinely refuse to consider that they have done something wrong, preferring instead to think that their reputations have been ruined by others reminding people of the truth about them.

These people would be worthy of pity if they were not so clearly misguided.


The Major Bleg

I promised a Major Bleg.

And I promised it would have nothing to do with money (but if you want to hit the tip jar, if I’ve ever made you laugh out loud, hey, it’s just over there).

What I need is information.

Special secret stuff. Anyone who reads this blog with regularity will have no trouble figuring out what I mean.

And I don’t want it here. The comments for this post are disabled.

Go here. Make sure you are logged in with a WordPress account (if you need one, get one) and if you are not already invited, request access.

Be prepared to have your bona fides thoroughly vetted and challenged. That blog is private for a reason. Safety first. Nothing personal.

I will process requests as quickly as I can, and once admitted you will be free to comment as per instructions in the corresponding top post.




He doesn’t really want that, you know. Of course we all know that.

He had it. He had the “LEAVE ME ALONE!!” It was the most important “get” that he took away from the settlement. All he had to do to stay left alone was to do the same.

But he couldn’t. The poor, bitter, hateful, lonely old mandouchebag. He had to go hunting again. He had to come hunting for me.

So, for the THIRD GODDAMN TIME (because YES, HE IS THAT DENSE), I trotted out something Grady had given me. And finally, finally! the tiny four-watt bulb that hangs outside on the terrazzo of the ever-so-spacious mansion where I live rent-free popped on, the “trapsie-wapsie” snapped shut, and we have liftoff on what looks to be a three day monkey-dancing Feldtdown of epic, nay GARGANTUAN proportions.

He wants to be left alone, but only on his terms. He wants to be left alone from the consequences of his actions. He wants to be left alone to tell his lies without anyone standing up to call him out. He wants to be left alone to hunt down Grady and try to scalp his job again.

Because that worked out so well the last time.

He’s not afraid of Grady. Just ask him.

“No, I’m not afraid of that mentally unbalanced, self-professed sociopath. (You notice he can never let that menacing phrase go? Just like he can never remember the evil thing Grady did that required the doxing in the first place?) Never mind that I falsified evidence in order to swear out a peace order at the mere whiff of a suggestion that he might be looking in the general direction of the state where I live. Which I then completely pussied out on at the prospect of him showing up to face me in court. He doesn’t scare me. I’m not even a little bit scared.”

(Grady wrote that bit. Good, right?)

It’s worth remembering. Yesterday, today, tomorrow, forever. He lies. Especially when he says he wants to be left alone.

Or when he says –


What he’s really saying is: “someone PLEASE tell me who Krendler is! PLEASE, PLEASE, mock me! hate me! loathe me! Give my pathetic existence the gravity of your hatred as a substitute for the lost love and companionship of the family that I’ve driven away and the failures I have endured!”

And what I have learned is that the best (and most FUN!) way to deal with him is to DENY him what he really wants by GIVING HIM what he says he wants.

He doesn’t “fucking CARE” who I am. Hence the frivolities of the weekend thus far, to show how much he DOESN’T care.

He says “LEAVE ME ALONE!!” after nearly a week of being left alone, during which he tried to bait me, followed by four days of hammering at Hoge and every Lickspittle in reach.

So I’m with Grace. And Dalton.

I’ll leave him alone.

Until it’s time to NOT leave him alone.

Which surely won’t be long.

Tomorrow – the Major Bleg.