Since I manage two women directly and work with many others, a co-worker sent me this article, which gives advice on how to mentor one’s female employees.

After reading it, though, I feel as though it wasn’t necessary to send me the article.  I am already following most of its advice. For example:

“Be frank. Many male managers feel uncomfortable talking to a female employee about issues like dress code, but don’t back away from it.” This is so true! But I have no fear of addressing the issue head on.  I often pass by my female employees and say “Hey, babe, this ain’t no truckstop.  Dress for success not to be undressed, capiche?”

“Don’t worry about her crying.” What wonderfully non-sexist advice! But of course, I don’t worry about her crying at all. I do sort of become concerned when she clutches at my leg and refuses to let me walk out the door, though.  Sometimes I’ve found myself stuck in one place for hours.

“Let her make decisions about her career.” For the longest time I wasn’t doing that!  But then I said “Okay, go ahead, let’s see what you can do.” And much to my surprise, they totally did fine! But I’m glad this article made that point, because maybe other readers wouldn’t be doing that!  Listen, other managers, I’m here to tell you: let your female employees make decisions about their careers. And also, walk them once a day so they get enough exercise.

“Help women develop the relationships that they need to get ahead.” Oh boy do I!  I just hope Corporate HR doesn’t find out about it.

Anyway, I think it was a good article but completely wasted on me.  I wish people would send me management articles that I can actually use--such as “How to Bypass the Company’s Blacklist so I Can Access MySpace.”

I was talking with a nice married couple about ways we de-stress after work. I said, “I never thought I’d do something like this, but sometimes I go to a spa sometimes to get a massage.  I feel like a California yuppie doofus, but it’s nice.”

The husband said, “Do you get aroused during it?”

I blinked.  “Uh, no. You do?”

“We went once, and yeah.”

The nice, attractive wife chimed in “I did too!”

“What, both of you?”

“Oh yeah.”

She said, “You really didn’t?”

I said, “Well, look, for starters, I just paid a bunch of money. For a cheapskate like me, that immediately kills the mood.  Second, they’re piping in Yanni over the speakers, and that’s like thinking about five straight games of baseball. Finally, everything smells of lavender. So...no. I mean, it’s sensual and relaxing, but...no.”

The wife went out in the living room where other people were talking, and exclaimed “Impromptu poll!  How many people have went to a spa and been aroused by the massage?”

I heard some excited talking which seemed to indicate that she had supporters.

I said to the husband: “So this embarrassed you?  And you haven’t been back?”

He nodded.

I said, “Don’t you think it’s just another day at the office for them?  I mean, they must see that all the time.”

He shrugged. “It just made me not want to go back.”

I think I’m lucky, to be honest. If I was so easily aroused by that sort of thing, I probably would have ended up with a family of six back in high school where we used to give each other massages all the time as part of drama class.  These days I think it would only work if the masseuse dressed up in a Princess Leia slavegirl outfit--that would probably cut through the libido-dampening effects of Yanni and lavender.

But if it happened, frankly, I just don’t see why it’s something to be embarrassed about.  To me it’s like giving a “thumbs up” to the masseuse’s performance. Or, y’know, some other body part.  Plus it’s potentially a money saver. If you’re showing such tangible gratitude for her work, doesn’t that eliminate the need to leave a tip?

She: I just got out of a frustrating four-year relationship that went nowhere.

Me: I was in one of those once. I called it “high school.”

I’ve been reading a book by Daniel Pink called A Whole New Mind, which posits several theories with which I vehemently disagree.

One of them is that society is wearied by a constant onslaught of information, data, and media, and is now on a quest for meaning and personal fulfillment.

I must contest this statement.  Any society that currently features a hit song called “Lip Gloss” by Lil Mama is not on a quest for substance and meaning.

This hip hop song tackles the hot button issue of lip gloss, and how it makes the wearer look and feel good.

Sample lyrics: “My lip gloss is cool, my lip gloss is poppin’, when I’m at my locker, all the boys keep stoppin.’”

Mind you, this is a hip hop song. In my day, hip hop was about actual societal problems. Drug culture. Gang violence.  H0s in the backseats of limos.  I do not consider this song an advancement in the musical form.

The lyrical refrain goes: “Whachu know about me? Whachu whachu whachu know?”

Well, Lil Mama, I suppose I’d know all about you if I cared to browse Wikipedia.  As it stands, though, I’ll settle for knowing that your very existence belies the notion that our society is interested in profound spiritual matters.

Daniel Pink’s book also posits the fact that this so-called quest for meaning and fulfillment has come, in part, because of what the author terms abundance.  He claims that the prosperity of a material society has made luxury items so plentiful and easy to obtain that it has paradoxically encouraged society to devalue material goods in favor of “beauty and transcendence.”

Except this is patently false. We do not have an abundance of material items.  In fact, when I take a hard look at my life, I don’t see the material items that I long for with every fiber of my being.

Current material items missing in action include:

BlogBimbo
Theme: Gathering of women who post scantily-clad pictures of themselves in front of bathroom mirrors holding digital cameras.

Most popular panel: “My Father was Mean to Me.”

BlogBohunk
Theme: Gathering of men who constantly post pictures of their abs.

Most popular panel: “My Mother was Mean to Me.”

BlogBotox
Theme: Gathering of people who blog about plastic surgery and/or constantly update their blog templates.

Most popular panel: “Eliminating age lines while Improving Adsense Click Throughs.”

BlogBust
Theme: Gathering of people who don’t really blog but rather post favorite links.

Most popular panel: “Conferences We Recommend You Go to Instead of This One.”

BlogBiatch
Theme: Gathering of people who gossip and make snarky comments about other bloggers.

Most popular panel: “We Could Have Been Dooce if We Had Really Wanted.”

BlogHex
Theme: Gathering of blog wiccans.

Most popular panel: “Where to Find the Best Glittery Unicorn Icons for your Template.”

BlogBreeders
Theme: Gathering of Mom and Dad bloggers.

Most popular panel: None.  The Moms are busy scarfing down martinis and the Dads are Googling old girlfriends.

BlogBored
Theme: Gathering of people who start every other post with “I’ve really had nothing to say lately.”

Most popular topic: “This Panel isn’t About Anything in Particular but we Needed to Fill Space.”

More about Blogher here.  And hell, here’s more about Bloghim.

Things that have given me pause lately:

At the Giants game with my brother and his family, AT&T park went bananas when someone stepped up to bat.  I was told that it was Barry Bonds, whom even I know to be some kind of famous athletic figure:

But after all this craziness, Bonds only hit a single. What’s up with that? I hit a single once back when I played in little league, and no one really cared.  What’s he got that I haven’t got?  Aside from talent.

I passed one of those electric signs by the highway today. The strange thing is, I take that route twice a day and I don’t remember seeing an electric sign there before. It said

“CLICK IT OR TICKET”

With God as my witness, I couldn’t figure out what this sign was trying to say.

One trick I’ve learned over the years is to keep an eye on pop culture to make sure that I’m facing no threats to my current way of life.  Right now I’m on high alert, because I’ve noticed that “Dance Revolution” is surfacing everywhere.  It started out as a popular arcade game, became a home game, and now it’s a television show.  And my question is--what if there really is a dance revolution? What if all of this seemingly innocuous entertainment is a cover for an army of frenetic disco insurgents?

There would be no place for me in society if the dance revolutionaries win.  I am not exhibiting a lack of self confidence when I say this, and I happen to love dance music. It’s just that I know my strengths and weaknesses, and being a good dancer is not one of my strengths.

If worst comes to worst, I’ll be a conscientious objector. Which will raise eyebrows and no doubt mark me as a pariah in the new order.  But like I said, I know my limits.  And it will give me time to foment my own revolution. I haven’t determined the exact politics yet, but it will be something about people who like to eat raw cookie dough and hate talking to people in elevators.  And unlike the bunch of glory hogs currently plotting to overthrow the government, my revolution will not be televised.

Things that have made me happy lately:

I spent an unremarkable weekend cleaning my place and toiling over an urgent project for work, but at least I had the chance to take out and set up my new decanter:

I received this as a gift last month, and I was very glad to get it because it’s absolutely crucial for the kind of person that I want to become.

Which isn’t to say that I spend a lot of time drinking.  That is, unless it’s past 10 a.m.  But a decanter is important because it’s the perfect prop to have when you’re saying or doing something malevolent that furthers your personal agenda.

For example, you could simply say “Well, senator, I’m not sure what the press will make of those photographs I have of your daughter. It would be a shame if they were to suddenly see the light of day.”

Kind of boring.  But say that same phrase while getting up from behind your desk, opening a decanter, and slowly pouring yourself a drink.

“...it would be a shame if they were to suddenly see the light of day.”

See?  It changes everything. The ambience. The intonation.  It’s all in the decanter.

This is an important clue that Harry Osborne may be an okay guy. In Spider-Man 3, there’s a scene where he rushes into a room and quickly starts chugging a decanter of whiskey.  This is a troubled young man. He is not one to sidle up and slowly pour himself a drink; he inhales it.  A true supervillain would not do such a thing. It suggests that he is, deep in his heart, a steadfast companion to young Peter Parker.

My only problem is that I don’t have a lot of sinister conversations at home.  I’m thinking of taking the decanter to work.  At my department meeting I can hand out copies of the project I did this weekend, then get up from my seat and slowly pour myself a drink: “Of course, this is only half of the output.  If you’d like the rest of the analysis, I’m going to need a 30% raise.  Or I simply can’t promise that my computer won’t suffer an unfortunate....accident.”

I have a hard time with commitment.

Maybe it’s the fear?  Of taking that first step, only to be hurt like so many times before?

People tell me “Fear is poison. Fear is worthless. Don’t fear commitment.  Take that step.”

But I have been hurt so many times before.

Even now, the pain of each past failure is still with me, digging into my heart like tiny shards of glass.

Twin Peaks. Cupid.  Firefly.

Each one cancelled before its time.

I thought I had learned from these experiences. I thought my heart had hardened. I thought I grown past my youthful optimism. But no--when FOX announced the TV series Drive, I thought it sounded cool.  A fun, mystery-filled premise. Some actors I liked.  So I foolishly rushed in as though I was nineteen years old again.  I set my TIVO to record the show with a Season Pass.

And I liked it. It wasn’t great television, but it was good.  I wanted to know what happened next.

And what happened?  FOX cancelled it after only two episodes.

I should have known better.  I should have realized that a good thing never lasts. I should have known not to open myself up again. To make myself vulnerable.  Particularly FOX, which has a record of not giving a shows a chance to find their--

Dear Reader,

This is the FOX network. Unfortunately, we’re forced to cancel the Geese Aplenty post currently in progress on May 3, 2007.  We liked the idea when we heard it, but the post just isn’t attracting the demographic we hoped for. We may burn off the rest of the post in the summer, but no promises.  We do hope to work with Greg again on a post that’s more suited for the FOX’s vision.  Hopefully a post with a little more formula. Our audience likes easy formulas.  Anyway, the rest of this post will be replaced with a rerun of House, already in progress.

HOUSE: ....an impressive display of buttocks, Cuddy.

(Suddenly stops short in amazement)

WILSON: He just had the epiphany that will lead us to unlocking this week’s medical mystery, didn’t he?

CAMERON: Of course. It’s 42 minutes into the episode, isn’t it?

This is widely being reported on the national news, but it happened a half mile from my house.  A gasoline tanker crashed and exploded, melting a large section of a freeway overpass and demolishing two of the most heavily congested commuter routes in the San Francisco Bay Area.

To summarize: A tanker carrying gasoline exploded, causing months of headache and worry for people driving cars that depend on gas.

I think there’s only one question on anyone’s mind at this point:

Now can we get some goddamn flying cars??

I was talking about heroes with a friend the other day.  She admonished me for mentioning someone that I admire (Steve Martin), saying that “he’s an asshole in real life.” I said I’d have to kick loose most of my personal heroes if I went by that criteria; you have to always put your trust and respect in the art itself, not the artist.

Brave words. But a little hypocritical.  What happens when you meet someone you look up to and it turns out they’re a total toolbox?  It’s terrible.

But conversely, it feels fantastic when you find out that the person is actually a bit of a hero.  Such is the case with Roger Ebert.  Oh, I don’t necessary like the guy for his critical taste.  For God’s sake, he gave Garfield: The Movie a thumbs up, while dissing two my favorite movies of all time: Brazil and Blue Velvet.  They should issue fatwas for having those kinds of opinions.

But even when I wanted to drop kick him into the nearest reservoir, he always gave his reviews with intelligence and humor. I’ve watched him on and off for nearly my entire life.  He made movies seem exciting and fun, and made the process of thinking critically about them inviting and positive. When I was fourteen years old, my friend Donovan and I filmed a really terrible parody of his show (which at that time included co-host Gene Siskel).  Our jokes sucked.  For example, we’d get in a fistfight with a 12-year old kid who was sneaking into our theater to watch the trailer for a PG-13 movie.  (That was topical humor, by the way; that was in the year the PG-13 rating first appeared.)

Recently, Ebert got in a war of words with Vincent Gallo, who directed The Brown Bunny.  Ebert called the film the worst one he’d ever seen at Cannes.  Gallo fired back in the press, calling Ebert a “fat pig with the physique of a slave trader.” Ebert responded in Churchillian style: “It is true that I am fat.  Yet one day I will be thin, and Vincent Gallo will always be the director of The Brown Bunny.”

At that moment I totally forgave the Brazil and Blue Velvet thing.

Ebert’s been absent from his show because of complications from cancer-related surgery.  He can’t talk right now, and his appearance is haggard and rather startling.  But he decided to venture out into the public and attend his annual film festival. He recently posted a picture and an article to his web site, explaining his reasons for doing so:

“I was told photos of me in this condition would attract the gossip papers. So what? I have been very sick, am getting better and this is how it looks . . . We spend too much time hiding illness. There is an assumption that I must always look the same. I hope to look better than I look now. But I’m not going to miss my Festival.”

Is there anyone who is more of a badass?  When life knocks the cards out of my hand and threatens to make me cash in my chips, I am going to remember his words. 

Rog, sorry about the parody we filmed.  Not because you’d give a rat’s ass about being mocked.  But given that you were the target, it should have been a lot funnier. Get better.

My beloved communications person will be out for several months on maternity leave, causing me to face a black abyss of unwritten copy and projects unmanaged. Our recruiter placed a posting on Craigslist for a temporary business writer, which seemed like a good idea.  Who doesn’t like Craigslist? But then I received the responses, which made me realize that this popular web site does, indeed, have a dark side: anyone can respond to a posting.

Here are my comments on some of the responses I received:

“I believe that my academic, work, and life experience, thus far, have equipped me with the knowledge, skills, and uniquely appropriate qualifications for this position.”

That’s a pretty cosmically aware statement for a short CL posting.  I wonder if he read tea leaves.

“Writing is a core-skill I use everyday in every work environment I am in.”

Given the number of grammatical errors in that sentence, I presume that one of those work environments involves being a barista.

“My interest in writing led me to obtain a Certificate in Technical Communications.  However, the Technology demise of 2001-2002 made it difficult for me to pursue a career as a Technical Writer.”

Ah yes, the great Technology demise of 2001-2002. After which, the apes took over and subjugated mankind.

“I would welcome the opportunity to discuss with you my aptitude and the skills and experience I possess that make me an excellent candidate for this position.”

And I demand to be paid by the prepositional phrase.

The capper came at the end of the stream of applicants.  The candidate wrote:

“Also, attached is a copy of writing samples. The content is significantly different than the business writing and PR you’re advertising for on Craigslist.  However, this should give you some example of my level of writing skill, adaptable to the needs of my employer.”

Enclosed was several dozen pages of a political rant-based Livejournal, stuffed into a word document.

If I came across a job posting for a matador, I would not respond. I have no background as a matador. I would not succeed as a matador.  I would derive no pleasure in presenting myself as a matador. Why, then, do these people want to be business writers?  Come back when you don’t think “Subject and Predicate” was a hip hop duo from the ‘90s.

Action Item. A key superhero upon which depends the fate of the known universe.  But usually people forget about him or take no notice of him.  Strangely, the universe tends to continue on its merry way.

The Leverager (A.K.A. Synergy.) Collects resources and puts them together in order to achieve important tasks.  Has no innate superpowers, so is better off as part of a super team--will fail if tries to go solo.

Pro-Active.  Goes out and fights crime before anyone else thinks of it.  Gained powers after being bitten by radioactive productivity.  Widely disliked by other heroes.  Weakness: loses powers without constant contact with caffeine.

Mindshare.  Takes over the thoughts of others in order to promote own ideas and values.  Despite highly cerebral power, often fails to exhibit any unique or original thoughts of his own.

Facetime.  Makes gains in the fight against crime by eschewing email and promoting personal contact.  Weakness: doesn’t always supplement superpower with sufficient quantities of breath mints.

Bandwidth.  Able to alter the substance of the temporal continuum by somehow managing to have no time at any point in the day to take on additional projects.  Catch phrase: “I have no...Bandwidth!!”

Catalyst.  Implements activities that initiate a specific chain of events.  Since events are often negative rather than positive, Catalyst is frequently thought of as a supervillain.

Scalable.  Entry pending--at time of writing, no one has any idea what this person does.