Blessed are the sign makers for they shall do overtime social distancing notices and warnings galore… means extra work for those who hope to inform. Reflecting the changes in a mixed up world… There’s serif, sans serif, cursive, leaded, kerned, font smoothed, curled. Helvetica, Univers, Futura & Gill Classic fonts urging you - Stand Still!… Don’t cross that line… Follow the science… Divine! Do the 2 metre 2 step the 1 metre Shimmy… The retailers are back saying Gimme, Gimme, Gimme. Women want to shop… Blokes just want to be blokes and stand outside! It’s a sign of the times folks…Stay Out! Onside! Goal!!! However many trades hit the economic wall the signmakers & writers out there, they’ll outlive us all! Blessed are the sign makers!
Some people have been doing very well out of lockdown
the annual gift-giving hectivities in advent time when we are
expecting the birth of our savior defy traditional ideas of quiet meditation drowning the sense of wonder with relentless jingles for super discount sales of things neither we nor anybody else really needs even though they suggest we and whoever we give those goodies to would be beyond the moon
the United Nations ever and again call to raise billions to help countries devastated by war or other mostly man-made catastrophes
I suggest we operate by the causality principle:
the countries who sell all those arms and military support to the warring parties or leave the natives no land to grow their own food simply use the money gained from their sales and appropriations to help the refugees they created build up all the cities their weapons destroyed provide a living for the farmers whose lands have been sold to agrobusinesses pay for the education of all the children unable to have schooling reconstruct the societies their greedy actions destroyed
For the low low price of just being within' earshot, the conversation analyst will run a full diagnostic on your conversation.
You know how that perfect comeback feels, three weeks after You didn't say it?
In training, representatives for Inbound sales listen to recordings of their own phone calls and critique them like Art majors in a studio class.
Our conversation analyst. Looks at you like a shoe on the wall.
Unlike the psychology major, the conversation analyst will never share his results.
He'll just judge you. Silently.
He doesn't speak. His fourth grade english teacher taught him that the carpenters house is never finished. She was referring to her husband, the carpenter, not finishing the renovations on their new home, but the conversation analyst heard it as a metaphor, and adopted it as a universal truth.
Much like a painting controls the path your eye travels the canvas, or the scientific process that goes into composing music, the way you build rapport is one of those things that people don't realize can be an art form until they wittness it professionally.
Our conversation analyst considers himself Socio-passionate.
Which amuses him, when he deducts points from your conversation for not empathizing correctly. Or not giving effective compliments by asking a relevant question afterwards.
The conversation analyst is not always mute. On special occasions such as first impressions he is a fine conversationalist.
You can meet the conversation analyst for the first time, as many times as you want.
If the carpenters house is never finished. The conversation analyst exemplar at listening, Will never hear you.
Early morning, they scuttle around, looking for some junk that no one has yet found. Look another bright orange sign, slam on the brakes maybe we will make it on time. Read the sign. Follow endless arrows. Some little punk changed the direction of these arrows. We drove for an hour, Grandmother said keep going, we will find it, I know it has great offerings. Tireless efforts the sun has now set. Grandmother was determined to still find this treasure nest. As annoyed as I was, I would give her the endless days of driving around looking for those junk sale signs, if I could have just one more day. Now she rides above me as I wander from sale to sale. Stopping only at the ones I know she would have wanted to. I silently shop through others junk. Talking to her about each item I rummage through thinking of her. My garage is full of boxes of other peoples stuff as I keep on buying all the junk you thought was just. I learned much from you. Making money on this stuff. I love you dearly Grandmother for the lessons you taught. Nashoba copyrighted 2017
Sir or Ma'am, It's not blood but my sweat that trails the sidewalk of the boulevard. Dogs lick it for the salt. I've given them names but they growl. I wear a watch, a polo, and a prayer. I offer a future for you to entertain for the thirteen seconds that I exist at your front door
What does Santa have to do with Jesus Or an egg-laying rabbit for that matter. People who think this crap up must be As mad as Lewis Caroll’s Mad Hatter. I mean, these same store owners Got those stories from somewhere. Then put them out generously for Gullible parents so freely to share With kids grown greedy by the lack Of parental care and nurturing Not to mention pablum, for real As the family thing was rupturing.
Where did that rabbit come from? It never made sense at all to me. How did those ******* up genetics Get dragged into the nursery? It defies belief that anyone over eight Ever bought in to the silly tale. It was always so obvious to me That it was all to make a sale. So, first there was fat man and sleigh Flying at blinding electronic speed. With ungainly flying reindeer as What passes for valiant steeds.
Next we have a bunny who hides Millions of gaudy hard boiled eggs Then apparently hops right off On some very confused short legs. Did I leave out the Tooth Fairy? Now, that is a real piece of work. I really believed that pillow thing. My god was I ever a young ****! There might be someone else besides Fecund rabbit, fat men and a fairy. If they hadn’t brainwashed us so early This whole mishagas would be scary.