Monthly Archives: May 2011

Breaking Up………Au Voir, Viedersehen, & Bonne Nuit

Best Experienced With:    Lisa Sanders;     Rainbows

(Please right click on the link below to open the suggested background music to this evening’s gathering in a new browser window.   Lisa Sanders is an amazing artist…you really should right click on the link.    Close your eyes the first time through and just soak in the music.   Then….read and laugh and cry.   Thank you, Lisa Sanders, for the perfect background song.)

Since birth, have been an atrocious breaker upper.    Especially two forms of breaking up:  breaking up with significant others and terminating employees.   Each verb phrase takes an amount of courage absent in me since birth.  Have done both scores of times throughout the years and while I’d like to say they get easier with practice, they don’t.  While I’d like to say that I got better at each with practice, I haven’t.    Did a poor job breaking up with my first girlfriend in fourth grade.    Did an equally poor job of breaking up with my last girlfriend in 2009.

I’ve dated people months and years longer than I wanted to, hoping they’d get in a car wreck or perhaps move to another state so I didn’t have to say the requisite “it’s not you, it’s me”, “this is not working out”, or “I’ve actually ‘dated’ four hundred seventy three other women while you and I have been dating.”    We men tend to be cowards about breaking up with women for three primary reasons.   Reason One is we are unable to accurately and/or honestly answer the scores of rhetorical questions sure to follow the breakup.    These unanswerable questions (“then why did you say you love me?”,then why did you sleep over last night?”, “does this mean we are not really, truly soul mates?”, “can I keep the money?”, ad infinitum)“ are exponentially more terrifying than the actual breakup because the questions can go on for days or weeks and you will most likely position yourself in front of the door while running the inquisition.    Which is why for years I have chosen to date only those who live in ranch style homes or rent places on ground floors.    Reason Two is we hate to see you cry.   Because you are very, very beautiful.

Reason Three is we men are terrified of the possibility that we may bump into you one week later on the arm of someone better looking, leaner, richer, and more well read.   Reason three accounts for ninety three percent of the reticence to break up with you.    Please keep that on the DL.   Reason Three is, of course, the most powerful.

Termination trepidation has two primary reasons in Mulliganville.    Reason One is that for the weeks leading up to terminations, would stay awake nights thinking of that person returning home to their significant other and children after our severance meeting.   Have never had a problem with explaining to a member of my team that this career adventure was a poor fit for both parties.   Have always had a problem picturing that person going home afterwards and explaining to their husband or wife that they are no longer gainfully employed.

Reason Two is no one likes to stand up and say “I was wrong”.   When you hire someone and it ends in termination, as the leader you were wrong.   Wrong about culture fit, wrong about skill set, wrong about shoe selection, wrong about musical taste, ad infinitum.    Very few like to raise their hand and say “I’m wrong”.

In many aspects of life, I am fearless.  When it comes to breaking up and terminations, my cowardice ranks in the highest quintile.   Am also a coward when it comes to euthanizing animals.  Have zero talent when it comes to breaking up with people, terminations, and euthanizanizing animals.

The talent of which I am most proud is my Doctor Doolittle like skills with animals.  Were I brighter, more adept at Chemistry, and if the twenty-eight veterinary schools in the United States reduced their admission criteria by eighty-two percent, I would be a veterinarian today.  My love of animals closely rivals my love of music, each slightly over eleven on a ten scale.  The feral cat herding and socializing skills began with Marsha, Jan, and Cindy in 1997 when they showed up, their feral mother dead, running single file through the alley behind my home….vainly trying to jump into trash dumpsters four thousand times their height.   Trapped them a week later with a smelly can of sardines, a pet carrier, and seventeen straightened out wire hangers tied to the pet carrier door.   Marsha, Jan, and Cindy lived in what is now the foster room, avoiding me like the plague for six weeks.

Cindy was the last of the three to approach me and permit the petting of the head and has remained the most aloof and independent for fourteen years.  This, of course, made me like her even more.  Made that adoption poster above and tore it up three days later when I realized I was going to keep the three morons.   Chez Mulligan had zero (0) cats at the time.   This house was once was underpopulated with cats.  Shocker.   Cindy has owned the upstairs portion of Chez Mulligan since day one and rules it with an iron fist.     She’s witnessed ninety-six percent of all business conversations held in this office since 1997, watching my conversations with bored eyes from the right.    When she gets really, really bored, Cindy will move forward a foot or two and cover up the current project.     Like this:

When we have guitar concerts in the living room, Cindy stays off on her own.

When she chose to share a cat bed with someone, Cindy would invariably choose to share the cat bed with Jan.

When she’d fall asleep, Ceeeeeeeeeeeatie would jump in next to Cindy.     Ceeeeeeeeeatie is a big Cindy fan.


Throughout 2009, one of the rescue cats living permanently in Chez Mulligan, Sage, vigorously battled cancer.    Had I the means and had MD Anderson Cancer in Houston the ability to treat felines, would have had Sage at MD Anderson in an aggressive cancer treatment program immediately.   Sage was on his last legs by December, 2009 and ready to head to heaven.   Kept delaying the inevitable for selfish reasons, reasons similar to the ones we all use to postpone break ups and terminations.  Scheduled a vet, Dr, Freeman, to come by the house to help him along.   Dr. Freeman was scheduled to come by at precisely 3:00 p.m. on December 23, 2009.

Dr. Freeman schedules a week ahead of time.  For the seven days leading up to December 23, I couldn’t sleep wondering what it would be like to look into Sage’s eyes as he passed.    Have had plenty of dogs and cats who have moved on, but have never scheduled the visit ahead of time, had time to think about it, or made the choice to say “push the syringe plunger”.   Am not good at breaking up.  Sage helped out with the breaking up back in 2009.

The evening of December 22, Sage and I hung out in the office together, drinking Pilsner beer, listening to “Round Here” by Counting Crows, and sharing stories of the our nine years together.    At eleven p.m. I carried Sage downstairs and we went to sleep for the last time.

I awake, fully alert and ready to play, at 4:45 a.m. every day.  Weekdays, weekends…..regardless of time zone….I awake at 4:45 a.m. Cali time.   Never earlier and later only when the prior evening is particularly adventurous or strewn with chaotic fun.  Awoke December 23 at 2:47 a.m., fully awake and ready to play.   Sage was not in the bed next to me.     Jumped up, found him in the bathroom in a pile of urine, and carried him up to his cat bed in the office.  At 3:00 a.m., he took one last breath, looked into my eyes, sighed a big sigh and passed on.  Dr. Freeman was scheduled to come precisely twelve hours later and I like to think that Sage chose to leave at precisely at 3:00 a.m. so that I would not have to go through December 23 thinking about having to make the choice to help him along later that day.    Was quite thankful I did not have to make that choice December 23, 2009, thanks to Sage.

Had to make that choice today when Dr. Freeman visited to help Cindy along to join Sage.   Cindy is now in heaven fighting Sage for kitty treats.   Cindy was a marvelous companion, a solid addition to my office, and a world champion purrer.

Cindy:  (Some Time in 1997-May 31, 2011)

Cindy passed away in her friend Mully’s arms peacefully at 11:27 a.m. on Tuesday, May 31 in the La Jolla Blvd. bed in which she daily sunbathed.  Cindy’s favorite hobbies were watching Dan work from two feet away on his desk, meowing loudly whenever anyone called on the business phone, and kitty treats.  Cindy loved her some kitty treats.   She also had the softest fur and the loudest purr of any cat in this galaxy or any other galaxy.  No cat will ever purr as loudly or as meaningfully as Cindy.   When revved up, people three counties over could hear Cindy purr.  Cindy is survived by her sisters Jan and Marsha, her step brothers Bruiser and Deeeeeeeeeeeogie and her step sister Ceeeeeeeeeeeeatie.


The music industry is quite perplexing.    If you chose to cue up the music suggestion above, you’re listening to an amazing singer song writer.    Had the good fortune of seeing Lisa Sanders make her magic with Steve Poltz at a coffee house in San Diego years ago.     She sang “Rainbows” and it was one of those moments when The Random smashes you into something that sticks, waiting for the right time to be your wing person.   Cindy and I sat in the office all weekend, drinking Pilsner beer, listening to “Rainbows”, and sharing stories of the last fourteen years.   All life things should be set to music for the correct emotification:  “Rainbows” was the perfect song for our last weekend together.     While listening, we each opined on how silly it is that Lisa Sanders has yet to have a platinum album, while Katy Perry has a recording contract.   Thank you for the perfect song for the occasion, Lisa Sanders.   You are quite amazing.  The music industry is quite perplexing.

Good bye, Cindy, I will miss your jet engine purr.   This Emily Dickinson is your going away card.

After great pain, a formal feeling comes

The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs

The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,

And Yesterday, or Centuries before?


The Feet, mechanical, go round

Of Ground, or Air, or Ought

A Wooden way

Regardless grown,

A Quartz contentment, like a stone


This is the Hour of Lead

Remembered, if outlived,

As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow

First …Chill …then Stupor… then the letting go.

For more about Sage, please click on the following link:


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Blue October rebotcO eulB



Best Experienced With:          Blue October:     Hate Me

(Please right click on the link below to open the suggested background music to this evening’s art show gathering)

“What a man wants is is an arrow into the future and what a woman is is the place the arrow shoots off from.”

“I felt like a race horse in a world without racetracks or a champion college footballer suddenly confronted by Wall Street and a business suit, his days of glory shrunk to a little gold cup on his mantel with a date engraved on it like a date on a tombstone.”

“So I began to think maybe it was true that when you were married and had children it was like being brainwashed, and afterward you went about as numb as a slave in a totalitarian state.”

“I saw the days of the year stretching ahead like a series of bright, white boxes, and separating one box from another was sleep, like a black shade.  Only for me, the long perspective of shades that set off one box from the next day had suddenly snapped up, and I could see day after day after day glaring ahead of me like a white, broad, infinitely desolate avenue”

“I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life. And I am horribly limited.”

                              Sylvia Plath (October 27, 1932 – February 11, 1963)

Paintings courtesy of the minds of Bernard Réquichot, John Minton, Vincent Van Gogh, and Robert Malaval.

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Meanwhile, In Nottingham Forest, Out Beyond the Unicorn Farm…


Best Experienced With:          Rolling Stones;    She’s a Rainbow

(Please right click on the link below to open the suggested background music for this evening’s treatise in a new browser window.    If you open this link and plug headphones into your computer and crank it up, you’ll hear the piano in your left ear and Mick in your right.   It’s pretty awesome.   You are welcome.)

This evening’s gathering is dedicated to the sunset this evening and Mr. Walt Whitman’s poetry.     

On the beach at night,

Stands a child with her father,

Watching the east, the autumn sky.

Up through the darkness,

While ravening clouds, the burial clouds, in black masses spreading,

Lower sullen and fast athwart and down the sky,

Amid a transparent clear belt of ether yet left in the east,

Ascends large and calm the lord-star Jupiter,

And nigh at hand, only a very little above,

Swim the delicate sisters the Pleiades.

From the beach the child holding the hand of her father,

Those burial-clouds that lower victorious soon to devour all,

Watching, silently weeps.

Weep not, child,
Weep not, my darling,

With these kisses let me remove your tears,

The ravening clouds shall not long be victorious,

They shall not long possess the sky, they devour the stars only in apparition,

Jupiter shall emerge, be patient, watch again another night, the Pleiades shall emerge,

They are immortal, all those stars both silvery and golden shall shine out again,

The great stars and the little ones shall shine out again, they endure,

The vast immortal suns and the long-enduring pensive moons shall again shine.

Then dearest child mournest thou only for Jupiter?

Considerest thou alone the burial of the stars?

Something there is,

(With my lips soothing thee, adding I whisper,

I give thee the first suggestion, the problem and indirection,)

Something there is more immortal even than the stars,

(Many the burials, many the days and nights, passing away,)

Something that shall endure longer even than lustrous Jupiter

Longer than sun or any revolving satellite,

Or the radiant sisters the Pleiades.

Good night…….

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Niche Marketing @ Polar Ends of the Body Mass Index Spectrum (and some white zombie to get the weekend rolling)


Best Experienced With:          White Zombie:      More Human Than Human

(Please right click on the link below to open the suggested background song for this evening’s treatise in a new browser window.  Were I able to afford Stevie JC as my Chauceresque niche marketer, I would also pay a minivan to follow me everywhere I roam, blasting out this White Zombie ditty.     Just because.)

“Like satin sheets on a waterbed”.    That sentence has nothing to do with this missive on niche marketing.    It’s been rumbling around my noggin for a year, looking to get out.   Waking me up at three a.m., smacking me on the leg, looking for a place to live on a screen or on paper.

Have been mesmerized, perplexed, and intrigued by the giant inflatable purple gorillas on top of business establishments for decades.   That would be an interesting sales job; calling on business establishments and uncovering the unmet need for the giant purple gorilla.    “Hello.   How has your top line revenue growth been year to date?   How is that versus your 2011 budget?    Do you believe that if you put a large, purple gorilla on top of your establishment you would be closer to your top line revenue growth target?”   That would be an interesting sales and/or marketing gig.

The silliest assumption in business is oft spoken:  “this is a $1B market and if we only capture three percent of it over the next four years, we will be at $30M in revenue within the first forty-eight months.   That’s thirty million more in top line revenue growth!”   The best way to market is to niche market…plagiarized definition below:

“Marketing strategy whereby marketers devote 100% of their efforts toward a small segment of a market instead of the whole market. Niche marketing generally appeals to smaller companies with limited resources. Typically, the small market segment, or niche, has been overlooked or only casually served by other larger competitors but is still large enough to be profitable. There are several different niche marketing strategies: end user strategy, serving only one type of end user customer; vertical level strategy, specializing in one level of the production-distribution cycle; customer size strategy, selling products designed for only one size customer, such as petite or extra large clothes; service strategy, offering a service not available from any other company; and geographic strategy, selling only in one geographic area.”

The best way to market is to niche market.  Carefully choose a smaller segment of a segment and then go after that smaller segment of a segment as fiercely as David Hasselhoff goes after hamburgers when inebriated.   All market spaces are subdivided into market segments and, with the proper homework and strategic market analysis; you can carve a niche out of any market segment in any market space in the galaxy.  Find an unserved or underserved part of that market, develop a unique offering with differentiating features and benefits, and then begin marketing to that niche.

(Faulkner fans, get warmed up)

Take magazines, for example. Magazines are a market segment of the larger periodicals market.  A market dying a slow lingering death as children and the mentally infirm choose to read only in mouth bites 144 characters large.  There is a segment in the overall magazine market of “magazines for dumb people”, yet within this market segment there are further market niches.   There are “magazines for dumb people who cannot read” (People and US), “magazines for people who can read and have suspended all disbelief” (The National Enquirer ) and then there’s Tiger Beat.     There is a niche in the magazine market called “magazines for straight men who have not yet figured out they are not heterosexual.”   We would find Men’s Health and GQ in the “magazines for straight men who have not yet figured out they are not heterosexual” niche market.  We can also niche out the business magazine segment of business magazines.    There is a niche called “magazines for people who are trying to pick up a significant other on the plane by reading something of import” (The Economist, Harvard Business Review).  There is a niche in the business magazine market segment called “business magazines for those who support Rick Scott and the religious right” (The New Republic and Rolling Stone).    You doubt me on Rolling Stone, aren’t you?    I harbor a Mel Gibson-like conspiracy theory that The Man bought Rolling Stone several years back and The Man is using Rolling Stone as a vehicle to drive our youth ever closer to Jerry Falwell and his ilk.   How else would you explain Justin Bieber on the cover two months back?   No way would Jan Wenner’s original crew would have put Justin Bieber on the cover back in 1972, absent an accompanying article by Hunter S. Thompson where JB snarfs mushrooms and Jell-O shots at a Greyhound bus terminal en route to Youngstown, Ohio.

(Faulkner just rolled over in his grave, sat up, and started a standing ovation)

Dennis Rodman niche marketed himself as the best rebounder in the NBA.   Dennis did not shoot:  he went after the boards.   Pinochet niche marketed himself as one of the most ruthless dictators Latin America has even seen by taking people on one way helicopter rides out over the Atlantic.  Pinochet did not lead:  he killed.    Marsupials are a market segment of animals.   If we wanted to niche market an animal in the marsupial market segment, the best choice would be a wombat because most people think “kangaroo” when they think about marsupials.    Would venture to guess that the wombat niche has more runway for market share grabbing because wombats are far more unique.  The best way to market is to niche market.   When you niche market, find an unserved or underserved and bring a unique solution or product to that niche with differentiating features and benefits.   Wombats are unique.   Wombats.

Because of their unparalleled snack selection, Delta Airlines is my airline of choice.   Delta Airlines is in Terminal 2 at the San Diego Airport and the baggage claim area resides at the bottom of dual escalators, directly in the center of the terminal.   Each Friday evening, when I return from my Don Quixotesque like career adventure travels in these, our great United States, I see folks waiting for their loved ones at the base of these dual escalators.   Sometimes they hold signs.  Sometimes they hold snacks.   Quite intentionally, for two years I have chosen to not have anyone waiting for me at the base of those dual escalators in Terminal 2.   The truly single life is infinitely easier because when single it is virtually impossible to have the “you always” and “you never” conversations, be you the accuser or accusoree…..roles you should alternate on a regular M,W,F…T,Th,S alternating schedule.

I grow tired of snackless taxi rides home on Friday evening and have recently chosen to remediate the lack of someone at the bottom of those escalators.  As a student of the game and a fan of niche marketing, have recently chosen to niche market myself.  The key to successful niche marketing is carefully defining your niche.    The diagram below clearly illustrates my target niche:  the shaded portion in the middle.

In niche marketing me, the question I keep coming back to you, quite self absorbedly, is this.   How do you niche market a force of nature?   Many believe that Heath Ledger’s best role was his last:  The Joker in that Batman flick.   That is not Heath Ledger’s best role.   Heath Ledger’s best character was his Horatio Alger role in A Knights Tale and the character who stole the show in A Knight’s Tale was the Geoffrey Chaucer character, magnificently acted by Paul Bettany.    Paul Bettany later stole and married my dream date, Jennifer Connelly.  I would have been a better husband choice for Jennifer Connelly.   I digress.

Give unlimited resources and time, the best niche marketing offense for me would be to have Paul Bettany’s Chaucer character from A Knight’s Tale standing on that fence and being my own personal Johnny Olson.   The Chaucer character would say the following lines from A Knight’s Tale just like he read them in A Knight’s Tale, save for the name change from Sir Ullrich.   That would be some solid niche marketing.  Given unlimited time and resources, I would ask Stevie JC to serve as my Chaucer and he would roam San Diego County broadly proclaiming the following as we entered nightclubesque establishments:

“For you are all equally blessed. For I have the pride, the privilege, nay, the pleasure of introducing to you to a knight, sired by knights. A knight who can trace his lineage back beyond Charlemagne. I first met him atop a mountain near Jerusalem, praying to God, asking his forgiveness for the Saracen blood spilt by his sword. Next, he amazed me still further in Italy when he saved a fatherless beauty from the would-be ravishing of her dreadful Turkish uncle.”


“In Greece he spent a year in silence just to better understand the sound of a whisper. And so without further gilding the lily and with no more ado, I give to you, the seeker of serenity, the protector of Italian virginity, the enforcer of our Lord God, the one, the only, Sir Mulligan Von Cleveland!”

“Yes, behold my Lord Mulligan, the rock, the hard place, like a wind from Guilderland he sweeps by blown far from his homeland in search of glory and honor, we walk… in the garden… of his turbulence!”

Alas, my meager resources do not allow me to bring along a minstrel/announcer or roaming thespian on my travels.  Stevie JC bills out at $320.00 an hour because Idaho is worth it.    Some friends suggested using the internet to niche market myself a month ago and, after working through the typical objections (what if a prison woman dupes me into parting with my life savings, how do I politely say “no” to really, really unattractive woman while not internalizing too much that a really, really unattractive woman thought I might date her if she sent me a message, etc), I first joined and then   Both are solid niche marketing opportunities at opposite ends of the BMI spectrum:  the former at an average of 5 and the latter at an average of 70.

The shaded portion is the niche I seek on these two BMI polar opposite sites:

The remainder of this treatise is my profile on OK Cupid as of this evening.    Tell your ssingle friends, if they fit into that shaded portion illustrated above.   The photo below is the single photo on my profile, because nothing screams “mystery” like a boa and nothing screams “I warned you at the outset” like a full beer being raised to the lips on a random dating site.      If I could pay extra to have this White Zombie song come up each time someone looked at the profile, I would.   I’d pay even more to make sure the program automatically cranked up the speakers.   To eleven.





6′ 0″ (1.83m).

Body Type



Mostly anything






Other (Druid)


—Greater Than (trending towards infinity)


Graduated from Masters program.   Twice.   Going to make it a hat trick here one day.


Executive / Management


Rather not say


Doesn’t want children


Likes dogs and has cats


English (Fluently), Spanish (Fluently), French (Poorly), C++ (Poorly), Mongolian (Poorly)

My self-summary

This is the only other dating site summary I have ever filled out (below)….was on a fitness site. Not compatible with anyone there though because I can only run when being chased by the police. Which apparently is not valued by people who run marathons. To save time, I simply cut and pasted it into here. This will allow me to use the time saved to cure cancer or eradicate Polio.

After years and years of serial monogamy, I took the last two years off to learn the guitar inside and out and perfect my cat herding skills. Just graduated to black belt in cat herding and learned how to fake a bar B and bar F….time to date again. Qualifiers on the interests listed. Although I listed French, I really suck at speaking French. Just began learning it last year. Would welcome a French speaker to tutor me. Same goes for boxing. Began it later in life and I am the worst boxer (skill wise) in all of San Diego Cty. I make up for the lack of boxing skills with sheer stupidity and false bravado in the ring.

I have an MBA and a Masters in Science in Information Technology, neither of which I use on a daily basis. In fact, I remain shocked that USD gave me the MSIT because, like boxing and French speaking, I was pretty awful at a lot of the IT things. Because I was pre-law in undergrad. This simply proves that I can read. Reading is one of my true passions. If you have lots and lots of great books to lend me, I’ll be exponentially more attracted. Just please don’t ask me IT questions. Because I will ruin your IT things if I touch them. If I just look at your iPod, it may break. Hide your IT things in a drawer when I visit

As you may have surmised, am also far too verbose. The things I write make Faulkner look like a cartoon strip. Despite this, actually have developed skills for BOTH ears and I know when to shut up. Am also a great direction follower and if you loudly say SHUT UP while smacking me alongside the head, I will most likely pipe down.

Am one of the least perfect individuals you may find on this site. If you are looking for marriage material, skip to the next guy. If you are looking to have a mercurial weekend filled with silliness and randomness (one where you go to work Monday and say what the h*ll just happened and why am I not in jail?, then we may be a good match.

This is my first foray into the online thing. Since you already figured that out, feel free to skip to the PS below. Thanks for looking. If you want to eat raw fish some time, let me know. I like raw fish because they often times will serve it with cold, unfiltered sake.

PS: sometimes I look like crap in the morning. Really ugly. If we stay the evening together and you look at me in the a.m. and shriek, just quietly sneak out and come back at noon. Once I primp and such, I look good again at noon. Just fair warning there.”

What I’m doing with my life

I foster abandoned kittens for a group called Friends of County Animal Shelter (FOCAS) so there’s generally a litter here getting socialized and such. If I had a big yard, would also foster puppies and such….no yard…no puppies. Love animals…were I brighter, would have been a vet. Started playing guitar 2 years ago and now have 6 guitars. Play them a lot. Poorly. Love to surf and be in the sun, so clearly I am cultivating cancer and advanced rotator cuff injuries.

I’m really good at

Blinking and playing easy songs on the guitar.   Groping fruits:  never vegetables

The first things people usually notice about me

…is that I have never been in the Olympic Games, nor have I ever been convicted of a felony.

The six things I could never do without





A Pen

A Notepad

I spend a lot of time thinking about

How I can become best friends with Hugo Chavez, the President of Venezuela. That man is batshit crazy and there’s nothing more fun than hanging out with a batshit crazy socialist dictator. How cool would that be?

On a typical Friday night I am

Flying back to SD. I travel a lot for work.


The most private thing I’m willing to admit

If I drink tequila, the odds of me peeing in your bed are 73.7%. Do NOT allow me to drink tequila when we go have sushi. Unless you have plastic sheets, in which case, we’re not going to have that second date.

You should message me if

You can square Pi….OR….if you have won a Nobel Prize


I am not going to date anyone I meet online because I have always adored Groucho Marx’s quote “I would not want to be a member of a club that would accept people like me as a member” and will most certainly be leery of anyone who wants to be my girlfriend based upon that profile.   Because that relationship would be as safe, secure and as logical as satin sheets on a waterbed.

Good night and thanks for joining this evening.

I remain yours very truly,


(The Jigsaw Man)

(Turning The World Around With a Skeleton Hand)

(The Nexus One)

(The Ripper Man)

(A Demolition Style America’s Freak)

(More Human Than Human)










Good night, Bethany.


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Sunk Costs Don’t Matter




Best Experienced With:          Stars;                   Your Ex Lover is Dead

(Please right click on the link below and open the suggested background music in a new browser window.   Again, it’s one hell of a good song.  “When there’s nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire.”  Indeed)

Kindergarten:                 Blocks.   There are always more blocks

First Grade:                       Blue/Green vs Green/Blue

Second Grade:                Hooking up phrases, clauses:  making them function

Third Grade:                   Solid, Liquid (or) Gas

Fourth Grade:                Louisiana Purchase

 Fifth Grade:                   Is, as, was, were, be, am, been

Sixth Grade:                  Judy Blume books

Seventh Grade:           Order of Operations

Eighth Grade:              Do not start writing until you have prepared an outline

Ninth Grade:                 Maginot Line was quite useless

Tenth Grade:                Pythagorean Theorem

Eleventh Grade:         Vos chaussures sont rayées brun

Twelfth Grade:             C6H12O6 (aq) +  6O2 (g)  ®  6CO2 (g)  +  6H2O (l)

College Year One:                   Calculus

College Year Two:                Hawthorne Effect

College Year Three:            First In, First Out….Last In, First Out

College Year Four:              Smith, Nash, Malthus, & Marx

MBA Year One:    Sunk costs don’t matter

MBA Year Two:    Sunk costs really, truly don’t matter.   Ever

Because there are always more blocks…

Never edit these until this evening.   Someone chimed in with a request for another love song post publification.    I’ll see that request and raise it to a sing along.   Turn the speaker volume up to 11, warm up the hand claps and the finer snaps.    Take a few minutes.

Warmed up?   Well done.   Right click on the link below and we’ll commence the sing-a-long.     Altos to the front and tenors to the rear.    Figure out the chorus on your own:  verses are below.     The Daylights:  “I Hope This Gets to You”

One, two, three four…………………..clap….clap….clapclap….clap…clapclap

“I’ve been searching for a couple words,
that could grow wings and fly like birds.
And of course I know that it sounds absurd,
but when you’re in love all the lines get blurred.
Do you remember a thousand lights,
we danced like kids, let the traffic go by.
I can’t help it that you memorized.
Just imagine the world a little smaller tonight.”



“I knew I found what I was looking for,
sitting indian style on the kitchen floor.
You’re like pretty Grace Kelly,
in a black and white scene.
And you’re battin’ your eyes ’cause you know it kills me.
You think you feel my heart jumpin’ through my chest,
when you look at me it beats three times as fast.
And all of this is passing us too quick for regrets.”

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