Flights of Fancy

Before I get started: this is the sculpture I mentioned before, the one I saw in front of a small-town bank during last weekend's drive.



There's so much I haven't shared with this blog that I don't know where to start. OK, I won't start. I'll share random snippets of meaningles drivel that matters not a whit to the world. You can stop reading here if you're insistent on relevance or entertainment.

The latest big news is that we got a new client today. Well, it won't be official until January 1, but we got the news today. It's a regional organization that needs professional management. They liked what they saw. Which was our proposal. They've never met me nor anyone on my staff. But they picked us. All I have left to do is get a signed contract and a signed transition plan and schedule. That's "all." Hot damn. We're 9/10 of the way back to where we were before our biggest client cut our fees by a whopping 25%. Of course the fees that are left are in jeopardy. So a partial make-up isn't as oh-my-god-happy as it might otherwise be.

But, it's better than a sharp stick in the eye, as I am wont to say.

In other news, I challenged another current client to behave like adult professonals, which got their attention but did nothing to cement our relationship. I just don't have the patience to deal with these people. I need surrogates who can tolerate arrogance, vanity, pride, and such. I don't do well dealing with hyper-stupidity that is wrapped in unwarranted self-importance. I tend to reach the point of suggesting to certain people that I would be particularly impressed if they would successfully exhibit the ability to drown themselves. Frequently, I catch myself before going all out, but sometimes I just can't stop my mouth from revealing all my brain's not-so-flattering thoughts. This, in no small measure, is the reason I find myself short on clients and income, I suppose.

I reached the decision, very recently, to retire in about three years, when I am 58. The decision was not based on any sort of financial assessment (which would have revealed a more realistic target to be a numeric palindrome...85), but on my estimate of my ability to tolerate bullshit and my estimate of the amount of time remaining in the lifeline of the U.S. Within three years, I estimate, I will have been able to arrange to initiate a productive vegetable garden on my southern estate, something that will be necessary to those of us planning to eat after three years have passed.

My plan, of course, will rely on receiving Social Security when I turn 65, so I would have to survive an additional seven years without SS income. That, of course, is impossible unless I engage in some questionable activities such as felony bank robbery or large-scale fraud. So, for the next three years, I shall embark on an intense effort to plan a failure-proof scheme to secure large sums of unearned money. Inasmuch as I am a very left-leaning liberal, the sources of my funds must be obscenely rich institutions that do harm to the common man. Naturally, my first thoughts are of churches. My initial plan will explore ways in which I can redirect funds from church coffers to me. Of course, I will ensure that I select streams of cash that do not actually do good. I'm thinking more of building funds, set-asides that fund pastor and preacher and priest "salaries" and the like.

I've run out of bad ideas to memorialize on this blog, so I'm going to call it a wrap for the moment. I may be back later tonight. Or it may be a month of Sundays.