The bright side of a Moon
Score! Stopped by Powell’s City of Books tonight, and someone must have sold back their Phil K. Dick collection, because they had a metric tonne of old used paperbacks. I picked up a bunch.
Here are the ones I got:
(I swiped the images from PKD’s website; they have an archive of scanned covers of his work, donated by fans from all over. If I’m stealing and they tell me, I’ll take them down).
An inside joke few will get. Over at the Long Winters’ website, John Roderick has made a post!
A nice long post explaining where the hell he’s been all summer, and where the hell their third album is. And, buried deep in the post, he shows that, for better or worse, he thinks just like I do:
Well-meaning friends have encouraged me to strike while the iron is hot, to not be gone too long so that people forget about the Long Winters in their rush to buy the hot new releases, but I feel no panic. First off: to hell with everyone. Secondly: go ahead and buy the hot new releases, we’ll all be dead in seventy years no matter what you do. And C: whither thou goest, go thither, or whatever.
Note: there is no three!
Smacky’s got a new nickname:
Thanks to Christilee!
As long as I’ve been working in the public sector, I’ve noticed that management doesn’t seem to communicate very well. In fact, what they do is almost anti-communication. They suppress rumors, they complain when employees communicate about anything except the specifics of their job assignments, they turn even the most basic knowledge of what plans or guidelines are in place into state secrets.
And they’re very reactionary. When they jump up and down and deny, when they state in the strongest possible terms that something ain’t gonna happen, and then two weeks later, it happens, they end up looking like damned fools
I don’t understand their extreme aversion to “rumors”. If they withhold information on anything and everything, then, naturally, employees are going to talk to each other and share whatever information they can get. It’s like management is trying to prevent employees from being human. Sharing is normal.
But what’s even more interesting is when they turn actual, verifiable facts into “rumor”. It’s almost Orwellian (Bushian? No, wait: Rovian) the way they can spin an actual, honest-to-Goldstein data point into something vague and seedy.
Here’s an example (you knew I was going somewhere with this, right?) Some employee sees the Facilities guys wandering around, doing a survey of a work area, taking notes on a clipboard, measuring things. Said employee asks them what they’re doing, and they get an answer: “We’re just seeing if we can fit more cubicles into this area.”
Another employee, at another floor, hears from a group of people, “We’re moving.” When they’re asked where, the answer is the same place that the above-mentioned Facilities guys were doing their survey and measuring.
Now, for most people with IQs greater than room temperature, that would be enough to constitute a “fact.” I mean, philosophers might argue about what, exactly, is “proof” or “evidence” but, holy fucking shit, to the vast majority of the population, those two paragraphs are pretty close to being the same as 1 + 1 = 2. You know, where “2” is: hey, that work unit is moving over to this building here.”
So, the employees share that information with each other. And someone brings it up to the manager in charge. And what happens then?
Said manager puts out an email:
I would like to address the rumour that is circulating regarding the combination of [Team One] and [Team Two]. This is in fact just a rumour. I was told it was started by [Team Three], but maybe that is just a rumour too. I suggest in the future that when you hear this kind information that you come and ask your manager/supervisor or me directly and that you not spread the rumour even more. Also, you could suggest to the person you are hearing it from that they should in fact confirm their information before they spread it. Rumours serve no purpose except to disrupt work and upset people. My door is always open and I will be as honest as I can with you. Please come and see if you have any questions.
[Name of other manager of another group withheld]: Please share this information with your staff–my door is open to them also. I am happy to answer any questions they may have about my organization.
OK, got it? Let’s list the errors. I’m sure you can find lots more but here’s a few for thought:
So, I have to ask: does this person know that it’s all bullshit but is somehow compelled to say it anyway? or are they oblivious to how dense and controlling they’re being?
I added some new(er) pictures of my cat, Smacky to my Picture Gallery, as promised, and not very late.
In other news, I gave him a bath yesterday, on the advice of a friend (thanks, Christi!), and then used some flea powder on him. He’s better, but still scratching and I can still see fleas on him. I’m going to try the drops on him next, since several folks have suggested that.
You can tell a lot about someone from how they react when caught in a lie.
Is that too obvious? Dunno, but that thought was going ’round and ’round in my head last night when I was trying to sleep. Kept bouncing back and forth between my personal life and the national news. OK, mostly my personal life. Mostly, but not completely.
Can you trust someone who reacts in anger when caught in a lie? Can you trust someone who lies without remorse? Someone who dismisses lies by claiming that the subject in question isn’t any of your business, anyway, so why should it matter?
I can still see her expression, one of extreme annoyance, unable to make eye contact with me, brow furrowed, spitting out her words, angrily stabbing at the food on her plate. Then a blank expression, a mask covering it all up, as she regained control of herself and tried to deflect the conversation away from the subject at hand. When I brought the topic back up, her defenses came up and she turned it into an attack on me, trying to make me think that I should feel guilty for calling her on her untruthful behavior. Her charm, her manner and way of speaking… almost convince me, in the moment, that it’s not something I should have brought up.
Then I remember that the topic at hand is, in fact, trust. Can I trust this creature on any topic, if I know she is quite willing to hide the facts from me?
Why would she lie, in any case, on subjects where it’s easy for me to find out the truth?
Shouldn’t she realize that it’s just as bad to lie to someone else, if I know about it? That doesn’t make her more trustworthy, to know that she’s untruthful to someone with whom she claims to have a “committed” relationship. That only undermines her trustworthiness even more.
Lying isn’t a good sign. Lying is not the way one builds any kind of relationship, whether a professional one, a friendship, or a deeper relationship.
I can’t ever forget this.
Quick music news before I go to bed:
Rating system: 0 to 5 stars
I’ll post full reviews this week. Hopefully. Not making promises.
Also, I’m too tired to do the “linking” thing tonight.
Poor Smacky. My kitten, little black fuzzball, is the cutest kitten ever, but his claws are waaaaay too sharp. Not only has he been scratching me when we play, he’s started scratching himself to the point of bleeding. It’s a two-pronged (sorry, couldn’t help myself) problem: first, the claws, of course, and second, he’s gotten fleas. Ewwww. Poor guy. I was finding tiny little clumps of hair from him scratching himself, along with spots of blood, in his recent favorite grooming spot: my bathroom sink. Well, he could have chosen worse places, I guess. I just started noticing in the past couple of days.
So, today, I finally trimmed his nails.
I didn’t want to, because, if you watch him, his claws are his bestest friend. He climbs all over; when he runs he makes this tearing sound as his claws dig into and let go of the carpet; he leaps on to my back when I’m standing near something he can climb up on, causing me to scream in agony… he’s so cute.
So, like I said, I trimmed them up. I had to do it; he was hurting himself. I’m going to bathe him and hit him with some flea powder, but I didn’t want to do it while he still had open wounds. I wanted to give him time to heal a bit first. Wasn’t sure of the effects of poison (the flea powder) in his system. Not to mention soapy water on an open cut; shit, I know what that feels like.
He knew. Immediately, he knew something was wrong. He could feel it. Cats have very subtle facial expressions, at least to a human, but he looked, well, mad. He didn’t try to climb for at least an hour. He would reach out, cautiously, from the coffee table to the couch, and stretch across one leg at a time, where before he would just jump and trust his razor-sharp claws to catch hold. I couldn’t get him to jump up on his cat condo. I felt guilty and kept assuring him that I did it for his own good. I gave him a treat. I petted him and combed through his fur for fleas. I went out and bought him a new catnip mouse and a little electronic thing that’s motion- and sound-activated. But, no. He seems kind of… well… depressed.
But at least he doesn’t make those whimpering noises when he scratches himself anymore.
Poor Smacky.
I’ll have some pictures of him either later tonight or tomorrow. Stay tuned.
Those wacky Republicans! Damn, they’re clever little guys! They’re like little cute kittens, all tangled up in an unstrung ball of yarn, or playfully shredding the curtains while running around at 2 AM, or whimsically pissing all over the rights and enfranchisement of thousands of Democratic voters who are attempting to register for what might just be the last free presidential election in America.
Look at the silly Republicans!
No. Really. Look at them.
We need to rub their nose in it and make sure it doesn’t keep happening.
(Cross-posted from Geeks Against Bush)
One of my guilty pleasures is reading advice columns. I’m sure I must have mentioned this before… at any rate, one of my favorites is Cary Tennis, over at Salon. He’s very good at sorting out what’s important and what’s not, and dealing with the human story and how it goes. Some of that might be due to his being a novelist. Dunno. I can’t wait for his first actual novel.
At any rate, sometimes, rarely, he addresses his audience directly, and the column dated 10/13/2004 is one of those times. He says, in part,
…I have been getting letters asking “How do you know when it’s time to leave the country?” and I can only say yes, it does feel a little fascist in here, could someone please open a window, please? Should you leave the country? Well, yes, you probably should. And so should I. But you probably won’t, and neither will I. Booking passage is such a hassle. And the queen has her spies everywhere.
The rest of his columns can be found here (you’ll need either a paid subscription or a day pass to read them).