If your wisdom ain’t crazy then you just plum lazy:
Or
Conceptual Stain-Glass Shrinky Dink in Process:

Want to blog………perhaps too sleepy. You want to hear untold tales of wicked weekends, narcoleptic-ly narrative, but I have toxic sentiments moldering and must vent with volcanic vocalizations on vicissitude!

Throwing away three years of work and deleting all the shit you’ve written over that time is exhausting. Do I get the energy back that I put into all those widgets when I delete them? Nope. After several trips to the dumpster to re-file my long-term projects in the dustbin of history, my work area is beginning to glisten with the wet peaty dampness of freshly tilled earth. I’ve been tilling my toil.

I worked very hard today because I know myself and it will be a minor miracle if I make it through the next two weeks without burning more than a few bridges. When I leave I want to leave things clear. It will actually be a miracle if I make it through tomorrow. My boss it back tomorrow (the one who schizophrenically encouraged my departure while requesting that I work there till I die - if we could figure out how to do that so I would be happy – (this is called passive aggressive manipulation when it’s at home or neuro-linguistic programming, NLP for short, when in the land of the new age (these are called annoying nested parentheticals (expect more of them)))) through intermediaries while he went to some new age marketing conference in San Diego. Swallowed pride = paid rent. What is nine more days after all in the grand scheme of things? http://www.nlp.com/

Well Karl, what do you really think? You’ve kept quiet about your true feelings these many months, but I see no point now in not letting that poor cat out of his bag. You admit that good happens through your workplace, but you hint that like all things there is some cloud around the silver of your lining.

Sales. Selling. Yesterday was the birthday of Arthur Miller, notably for our purposes he was of course the author of Death of a Salesman. I laughed at the corollary and the timing. I was once an administrator of a small, but respectable school that had yet to run aground in the ethically murky shallows of sales. Certainly other ethical reefs were being skirted, but those are tales for another day.

In case you haven’t noticed, the newest development in the “New Age” thing is the merger with fringe marketers. When The Celestine Prophecy sold truckloads, a lot of Vegas types, the kind with the heavy watches and the gold neck chains, thought, “This could be the next best angle (angel) to sleaze with ease.” There is no pigeon as pluck-able, no marrow as suck-able as the will-to-power weakling of the new age-y seek-ling. Because to quote our own marketing guru, “We’re just helping people get clear about what they really want.” In other words we specialize in telling weak willed people that we have what they want if they’ll just sign a letter of intent before they leave the building.

If you ever wanted to see Evil jump a metaphysical grand canyon and not break a single bone, you should have been there the day that the Eastern ego addict of charismatic convert-aholics, the hierarchical hierophants of the guru tradition (who prefer disciples to colleagues), met the quasi-Christian carpetbaggers of the Middle West. Not since the sinister slider suckered Eve (Lilith got wise and lucked into living by leaving) into strange fruit solicitation from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil (just down the block from the Tree of Eternal Life mind you, bait and switch at the outset) has such a snake oil as the salvific slop of self-help severed sanity from solvency.

The wisdom game makes Three Card Monty look like a sure thing. The trick to it is paradigmatic. Get the mark thinking in levels, like levels in the martial arts. First you’re a brown belt and then you’re a plaid belt, on and on. But in the wisdom game of consciousness ascension, where the higher levels are twice the price, you are peeling the universal onion-with-no-end on a one way trip to insipid introversion. The only thing increasing is this size of your ego, the very thing you need to ditch-witch if you’re going to get off the ladder and get to ground. Ground is where it’s at my friend, in the passion and compassion of heaven hitting earth right in the belt – where the ascending and descending forces hit balance. If you think you’re climbing a tower, chances are you’re going to fall.

I may have gotten fired, but I am getting out on the ground floor. Every step from here on out is what Dean Kamen called a controlled fall with a soft landing, i.e. walking. And the walking man walks on by…..Karl leaves to listen to a little J.T.