Thursday, April 20, 2006


Finding Mr. Nemoponte has proved a baffling task for all the organizations, agencies, institutions, and associations involved. “He’s a marked man. We’ll find him.” Mr. Fureaucracy told reporters. But the folks at the groupthink tank aren’t making things easy for Mr. F. He had to deal with more dissent today. He wished that everybody would just wear their damn Uniform Resource Locator as requested, but one sticky chap refuses to accommodate that rule. Says the unwieldy URL wrinkles his lapel. The meeting ended with more than half the committee members and all of the sub-committee members leaving the conference room with red faces. Chaos erupted. Ms. Overhaul tripped on a wireless connection. Mr. Power lost his balance. Mr. Security took sick suddenly and vomited all over Mr. Threat’s brand new Cordovan shoes. But everyone went home and made love to their spouses and then all was well again. Except for Mr. F. His wife didn’t make love to him. How could she? Though she tried, she had trouble helping him off with that bizarre uniform.

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