Selling Shit-On-A-Stick (or Try My Combo Barbecue Special)

The following thoughts are in response to a sociopath that identifies himself as Ed S. His last name is Strnad, however I more appropriately address him as STUNAD: 'We all swallow "shit" in one form or the other--literally and figuratively. Indeed, in order to survive we, as humans, have no choice but to. I've been of the opinion for many years that one can get rich by selling excrement--if the proper marketing and advertising techniques are applied and if the product's stench is neutralized. In other words, a "good" businessman/salesman can sell "shit-on-a-stick" and have people begging for more.

The selling "shit" concept first occurred to me back in the eighties during a conversation that I had with a Russian immigrant by the name of "Steve". Steve and I were standing in the main kitchen of the Waldorf Astoria and Steve was telling me about his restaurant management experience. He told me a number of stories about his experiences and one of his stories was this: Steve managed a mid-sized restaurant in Brooklyn. Late one Saturday night, after the restaurant had closed, his walk-in-meat-box (the large refrigerator where a restaurant's meat is stored) malfunctioned. His restaurant was closed on Sunday. On Monday, Steve opened the door to the meat-box, and as soon as he opened the door the stench from the rotten meat overwhelmed him. There was about two-thousand dollars worth of meat (steaks, pork, chicken, hamburgers, etc.) in the box. Steve didn't throw out the meat though . . . he just did what most enterprising American businessmen do if they can get away with it--he exercised creative mangement skills in order to turn his losses into profits. Steve, simply, held his nose, and got his kitchen crew to throw all the spoiled meat into a large crock-pot along with ten gallons of cheap barbeque sauce. Steve left the spoiled meat to marinate in the barbeque sauce overnight and the next day, he "marketed" the spoiled meat as a "Combo Barbecue Special". And Steve's customers couldn't get enough of "the special" . . . imagine that!

I'm so fascinated by the power of marketing and advertising and what it takes to be a successful businessman that I wrote a novella (unpublished . . . who the hell would publish my shit) entitled "A Little Brown Commodity And The American Dream".'



I pose the following question to you, America, in reference to the above comment: were Steve's "creative management skills"--skills that resulted in his turning "losses" into "profits"--a bad thing or a good thing in economic and social terms?

The above is by no means a trick question . . . but before you attempt to answer the question, I'll offer you a few hypothetical "small-business scenarios" that Steve may have, in fact, been confronted with: Let's suppose, for the sake of the scenario, that Steve's uncle owned the restaurant that Steve managed. And that Steve's uncle had full faith and confidence in Steve's loyalty and Steve's ability to make a good buck. Let's suppose, further, that Steve's uncle was getting on in years and he was not up to spending the remainder of his days in Brooklyn running a restaurant. Steve's uncle came to the conclusion that it was financially feasible (and financially safe and secure) to retire to Florida and, therefore, hand over full control of his restaurant to his trusted nephew. Steve's uncle was content with playing golf, putzing around the house, and, in general, soaking up the Florida sunshine. He retained trust in his nephew's loyalty and abilities, because he received frequent and cheerful business updates, from his nephew, and on the first of every month his nephew sent him a check for a few thousand dollars along with fifteen-hundred in cash.


Let's also suppose that Steve's "book-keeping" methods were no different from the "book-keeping" methods of many small businessmen--and that Steve kept three sets of accounting "books": One "book" that would pass the scrutinity of his uncle (and the authorities if the need should arise); one "book" that he kept locked up in a safe at his home; and one unwritten "book" that he retained solely in his heart and mind. Let's further suppose that the latter book was the only true "book"--in that it is was the only "book" that contained accurate facts and figures. And let's further suppose that Steve purchased seventy-five-percent of his "meat" on a strictly cash basis from a couple of guys that had the talent and peculiar ability to supply him with meat at a cost, substantially, below market prices . . . . It was a sweet and compelling deal for Steve; for his substantially below-market-meat-costs enabled him to mark-up the price of seventy-five-percent of his hamburger patties, steaks, chicken, and pork as much as two-thousand-percent; and even after the obligatory kick-backs and "palm-grease" Steve was still able to maintain a nice two-hundred-to three-hundred-percent skim "off the top" of his trusting uncle's business.

But there was a potentially bitter component to Steve's sweet deal; and it was this: in order for Steve to maintain the "sweet deal", and the uninterrupted flow of meat at a cost "substantially below market prices", he entered into a tacit agreement with his meat suppliers. The tacit agreement was that the "meat" transactions never occurred and that Steve would continue to purchase, in perpetuity, the majority of his meat from a "couple of guys". Steve knew full-well the downside of the "tacit agreement" . . . but in Steve's opinion, the rewards of a two-thousand-percent mark-up were worth the risks.

The "tacit" agreement precluded Steve from writing off the meat losses. i.e., he couldn't risk claiming a loss on inventory that was obtained via a transaction that "never occurred". Steve was therefore on the hook for two-thousand bucks--but not for long. Steve was a sharp businessman; and like all sharp businessmen, he came up with a plan to recoup his losses and he passed off those losses to his customers without even raising his prices. A "Combo Barbecue Special" . . . what a concept!

Do The Presidential Polls Really Reflect The Outcome?

Throughout the years, I've often paid attention to the various pre-election poll results--i.e., the compilation of statistically filtered and "weighted" answers, to questions such as, "Which presidential candidate would you vote for if the presidential election were held today?" I am, by no means, an expert in political polling--however, I'm familiar with the ingredients that make up a poll and I have somewhat of a background in statistics along with a hobbyist's interest and knowledge of American politics and history. In other words, I'm no one to question the professional pollsters--I'm merely an American citizen that makes a sincere effort to ascertain the political facts. On the basis of those facts I go into the voting booth and pull the lever (or touch the screen or punch the card) and hope that I made the right decision. What disturbs me , however, is that my vote is more often than not based on which candidate I believe will have less of a detrimental impact on the future of our nation. In other words, my vote is cast for the lesser of two evils. Obama will, therefore, be America's first minority president. I have many concerns about both presidential candidates and the effect that their leadership( or lack thereof) will have upon the future of the nation. One of my concerns is one-party rule. In other words, if Obama wins the election, the future of the country is, virtually, in the hands of the Democrat party. I'd be just as concerned if the Republican party held the presidency and majorities in the house and senate.

One of my hopes is that the next president of the U.S. takes heed of the many blunders (some of those blunders continue to be deadly) that have occurred during the past and present administration's watch--especially in regard to present and future "wars". Another of my hopes is that members of the house and senate make a sincere effort to put party politics aside and start thinking in terms of what's best for America, instead of focusing on getting re-elected. Indeed, members of the U.S. congress have a lower "approval rating" than does President George Bush. To say that my "hopes" are not realistic would be an understatement . . . however, I'm entitled to my fantasies.

Blogs Are A Magnet For The Anonymous

One thing about blogs--they're a magnet for the anonymous. Until recently, I didn't give the "anonymous" aspect to blogs much thought. But after I started posting a number of comments on another blog I noticed that most of the comments to my comments were from "anonymous" commentors.The comments were typically negative, devoid of facts, and full of the usual name calling, e.g., you're a fucking asshole, you're a right-wing nut, you're stupid, etc.. Other than an occasional initial at the end of the comments the commentors didn't leave a trace as to their identities. Why would anyone take the time to put his or her thoughts in writing only to post those thoughts in a totally anonymous manner? The obvious reason is that one who writes under the cover of "anonymous" is afraid to let on to others his or her true thoughts about certain people and certain issues. It's the old "What will the neighbors think?" routine. The "anonymous" are insecure and usually dishonest creatures with fragile egos that dread even the slightest ridicule and criticism--and they are, indeed, afraid of their own shadows.

GRITS and CRACKERS

How Are Yuh?
Fine girl . . . I see you ain't been slackin' .
Aint it the truth . . . Bud please.
Sup?
Fuckin' Hollywood pullin' his stucco shit . . . .
Thought Hollywood and Drywall Mike were up in the Handle?
Yeah, but Hollywood starts talkin' shit and Mike kicked his ass . . . he's down for awhile.
Fuckin' Mike . . . pullin' New York shit on Tim.
It's that Rory guy's fault.
Rory? Rory's a brother . . . .
Rory's bud but he chased down Mike with a cue stick . . . broke the stick! Drywall ain't been the same since!
Who said that?
Jimbo and Big Bubba.
I was there that night Rory broke the stick. . . didn't go down the way you think.
What do yu mean?
Rory broke the stick to get Drywall's attention. Stopped Mike from killin' some sick drugged-out fuck and goin' to jail . . . .
I didn't know . . . .
Now yu know girl . . . Bud please.