Q2 2022 Stakeholder Report
We’re officially halfway through the year, and it feels like the year has gone by painfully quickly and painfully slowly at the same time. The recession has, or has not, started, depending on what data you are looking at and whom you are talking to. People’s stonks and crypto holdings don’t look as good as they did just 6 months ago. Inflation continues to skyrocket despite demand slowly fading away. Bad news, more bad news, even more bad news. Nothing you haven’t heard recently. So, let’s talk about something more interesting than economic destruction.
Where I’ve Been
It finally happened. I’ve been suspended by Twitter, and they are holding my account hostage. They call it a temporary suspension, but my account recovery countdown does not start until I give them my phone number. No offense to the people, many of which, I assume, are very fine people, at Twitter, but I trust them with my phone number about as much as I’d trust Home Alone’s Wet Bandits with my house key and safe combination. Why am I being suspended? I commented on a video of green energy protesters GLUING THEMSELVES to da Vinci’s “The Last Supper” with something tongue-in-cheek along the lines of “burn the heathens.” Glossing over the fact that, in reality, anyone committing blasphemy in da Vinci’s time would likely be executed (famously “burned at the stake”), that comment was likely nowhere near as bad as actual violence being encouraged on the platform on a daily basis. Heck, even Russia, Iran, and China still have active accounts. In the eyes of Twitter, I’m worse than Russia. Iran. CHYNAH. Countries that actually harm innocent people. To be fair, this has been a long time coming, as satirists live on borrowed time under Twitter’s oversensitive overlords. That being said, I have a message for Twitter, Inc. Fuck off, you absolute losers. I will not provide a ransom to get my account back just so you can have the power trip of controlling speech with intimidation and censorship. I hope you suspend millions of accounts over nothing, try to intimidate them by requesting their phone numbers, and implode into a penny stock under the weight of your immense desire to mold public opinion. At the end of the day, you’re just computer nerds playing God in your own sad little universe. That must be lonely. Enjoy the layoffs.
What Disgusts Me
Richard Mille, the company famous for selling million-dollar-plus watches that are even uglier than anything offered by Audemars Piguet (who co-created the movement in this watch, surprise, surprise), has come out with the thinnest wristwatch ever created within months of Bulgari claiming the record (also with an ugly watch). It is, as expected, hideous, completely impractical, and co-branded with Ferrari. Anything co-branded with a luxury car brand reeks of a lack of confidence that the product can sell itself. It’s a little cheap. I mean, if your company sells car dashboard ornaments, then you go on Shark Tank and tell the hosts you are co-branded with Ferrari, I’m sure they’d be ecstatic. But, Richard Mille is trying to sell million dollar watches, not Ferrari-branded fuzzy dice.
This is a limited release, with 150 pieces offered at just under $1.9 million a pop. I guess that will be a manageable recall for them, when the oscillator jams or the movement fails. But that won’t matter. All 150 pieces will be bought simply for the clout, which is what probably disgusts me the most.
What I’m Watching (Minor Spoiler Alert)
Westworld is back and man, did it take its sweet time. Thankfully, the show runners skipped over that pesky war that started at the end of Season 3 to free humanity from the oligarchy that Rehoboam’s controls had created and went straight to a clever reboot of Season 1, of course now with many new wrinkles. Minor grumbling aside, I’m excited to see where this season is heading, considering that the show sacrificed the “humanity’s revolution” plot point for the sake of the “what are the hosts up to now?” plot point, especially with Dolores herself no longer being the mastermind behind the hosts. That’s a big opportunity cost and I hope it pays off. Still, it’s the best series on television, so I have no reason to doubt the Nolans. Yet.
What I’m Cooking
Malcolm (Reed) Style Ribs. I’ve smoked 4 racks of baby backs within the past week with no sign of slowing down. Go on YouTube and give that man a click, he knows his stuff. My only divergence from The Master—finishing in the oven after wrapping. Officially signing up for the local rib cooking contest later this year. I’m ready.
Things That Make Me Go, “Hm.”
The wife had a very productive T.J. Maxx shopping trip and found your boy a Tommy Bahama tee with a graphic on the back that says “Friends in mow places.” In other words, 100% my brand. The only problem is that the words were interspersed with pictures of golf carts instead of lawn mowers. Rare, rare miss by the ultimate burb dad brand. I don’t mind, I’m still going to wear the shirt almost everywhere, but I have to wonder how this got through quality control. Who okayed the graphic? I feel like the fine folks at Tommy B’s know the difference. I guess that’s why it was at T.J. Maxx.
Energy I’m Bringing into Q3
Westworld’s Man in Black, completely defenseless while mounted in a cryo-chamber after surviving a slit throat at the end of Season 3 and probably freezing his balls off, fearlessly staring down “Charlores” as she declares victory over him and, by extension, humanity. An appropriate metaphor in these times.