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 Sep 29 D Allaire
Jill
Staplers and hole-punch
Paper, signatures, and stamps
Busy, busy work
Audit error, office closed
Oncoming apocalypse

---

“If you are viewing this instructional video, you may be having some glitches with your audit processes. Don’t panic. From time to time, any bureaucracy worth its hole-punch will need to conduct an audit.

Daily dandy-desk-documented fun
Standard sunny-systematised-stapled hijinks

However, sometimes, there is a clerical error, or worse, a process deviation. If this occurs during an ordinary, 8:45am-5:20pm workday, the standard review process can be implemented, commencing on the same day, should the error be detected before 12pm, and if later than 12pm, commencing on the next working day. The typical review timelines can then follow, ideally 3-5 business days for information gathering, followed by committee consideration dependent on the 6-weekly cycle and agenda length.

Expected. Thorough. Busy. Reassuring.
All systems nominal.
Stamping and signing rates above baseline.
Working hard, at a sensible, sustainable pace. Amiright?

Unfortunately, occasionally,
something cataclysmic happens
bottom right on the risk matrix
(likelihood=E (rare) x consequence=5 (catastrophic))

Hold onto your staplers…
A fault occurs during the audit.
An audit error in the error audit.
This results in the dreaded, circular,
Paper Ouroboros Paradox.  
At this point, the
perfectly procedured
copybook committeed
faultlessly filed
bureaucracy
will implode.

The only way of avoiding POP is
a concurrent process to audit the
audit, we call this The Meta Audit.  
The bookish amongst you may want to say
that would increase the circularity
(moving POP from likelihood=E, to D!)
Don’t worry, we run the Meta Meta
Audit to make sure that never happens.

Our favourite galactic bureaucrat avatars, the Vogons, were the first race to encounter the pure, paper-curling hell of TMA. That is why these instructions are written in poetry, of sorts. But not Vogon-authored poetry, of course, even though
the quality
and honestly
the policy
of the potential use
of these directions
or sections
or connections
for torture
Have never been directly investigated.

The KPI for TMA is known as the
Kafka-Cockroach Distance
measured in imaginary cockroach lengths (icL).

Under potential conditions of
POP, the TMA KPI KCD starts at
42 icL
     and counts down with
     every fatal meta error:
       -Information presented to audit
         committee in triplicate
         instead of quadruplicate,
41 icL
      -Audit presentation containing
        27 slides instead of 26,
        as clearly outlined,
40 icL
     -Email about colonoscopy sent
       to audit address list instead of mum,
39 icL
     And so on.

You’ll know when you reach 17 icL,
You’ll see the cockroaches.
Conveniently, this makes measurement simpler

Now you know how to calculate your Kafka-Cockroach Distance, you can audit your audits with perfect assurance and insurance.

---

This bureaucracy
Kafkaesque catastrophe
Dear Douglas Adams
Thanks for giving me words for
Processing my processes
©2024

BLT Webster’s Word of the Day challenge (avatar) date 27th September 2024. Avatar can also refer to the embodiment of something (such as a concept or philosophy) often in a person.
An arranged marriage
A love that never was

So many secrets
And untouched lands

The burdens she carries
In pursuit of happiness

From God's forest
Of dusk line hills

The plainstones palace
Is the necklace she wears
To commence the descent

A soft jubilant rain
Promises borealis
And offers of peace

She prays silently for each
As they lower the crown
In a flourish of confetti

It's all about pageantry
It's all about possession

And the way she sits
On her throne
Like she sits
On the King's face
Every morning I kneel and pray
For the needs of other people.
But nobody prays for me.
Fourteen ways my body fails
And my mind is failing too.
Yet nobody prays for me.
My needs are on the bottom shelf
I carefully set it up that way.
So nobody prays for me.
I thought I was invincible
But my needs outweigh my strength.
Won’t somebody somewhere pray for me.
             ljm
Orison is an archaic word for prayer.
When all the butterflies are gone
And only Caterpilers yet remain
The barren landscape will forget
Just what the color green looked like.

When the rain no longer ever falls
And water tastes a bit like salt
The withered earth will hunger for
The sweet flavor of the morning dew.

When water seeps over the window sill
And everthing is muddy brown and ruined
The Mocking Birds will gather in a chorus
To sing sacred dirges to the houses.

When billboards are spray painted white
With only dabs of purple in the corners
The world will finally have ended
And somehow no one got the word.
ljm
Billboards and cockroaches will be the last things to go.
I'm just allowed to read 5 poems. I can't scroll down for  more.
I don't know what mistake I've made for Eliot to close the door.
I know I'm not the only one with no access to the index
Which I consulted constantly from forgetfulness and reflex.
Is there some way to make amends and put things back to right
Or are we all to drop our pens and fade into the night.

Will Eliot do something new and leave us on our own
Or are his plans a secret - totally to us unknown
Will Hello Poetry ever come back and be the way it's been
If we should lose our access it would be the gravest sin
I've offered Elliot a check instead of monthly nicks
But I've not had a word from him - up to his usual tricks.

I'll keep submitting what I write and see if it's displayed
And if it  never does appear, sadly I will be dismayed
If I am not the only one facing this conundrum
Let me have a word or two and tell me who it's from.
Then I won't feel I've crossed a line and there's no hope for me
And all together we will wait to see what we can see.
I'm crippled - can read only 5 poems, can't use index past A, and comments are coming to my e-mail instead of here so they can be answered easily.
 Sep 28 D Allaire
Ariannah
So close, yet so far
I could see your leaves,
Swinging from afar

So close, yet so far
I can't take you out of my mind.
For I am just a simple tree,
Knowing you'll never look at me.

I could see your leaves,
But I could never touch them,
For the million hands I have
Our branches would forever remain apart.

Swinging from afar
Your sprightly crown moving in slow-motion;
You make me full of emotions,
For you are my one and only star

Swinging from afar,
I could see your leaves,
So close, yet so far.
 Sep 28 D Allaire
Pax
before writing seems to comes too easy
maybe before the river of depression
rushing into my canals in all directions
with no order, no bounderies...
i guess, i've learned,
to build dams, cross section
and order...
i manage to live, and caring to what matters.
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