The Little Words Mean the Most

LWGAS

"like we give a shit"

generally said about the opinions of the ignorant

I have an audience of 1

(1) I want to keep her entertained

& (2) i know who you are

There are lots of faces in my head as I write client stuff

"The only person I never try to please is the client," the audience heard me say. True enough. If  responsible clients already knew what they were doing in asking, thanking, and reporting, the "virtuous circle" of donor comms, they wouldn't NEED to hire me. That's what good consultants sell: I will turn your ignorance into an asset instead of a deficit.

I love ignorance. It is the source of my good fortune.

My gene

I want to name the gene that makes us enjoy making fun of each other, the Ahern Gene. Dana Farber offers a similar "name a gene" program. $5K, and you're a permanent part of science.

Why McKays live near the coast

 

That's our family's official myth. I have it in a book somewhere. Ancestor McKay loved to wander the wild beach his family claimed on the Atlantic side of Scotland. Where, it must be admitted, you could not grow the grapes for good wine.

One day he met a mermaid. She calmly basked on the damp sand, little curls of surf racing up her long tail. "A very shapely tail," he thought.

He did not want to frighten her. "May I approach?" he called gently.

She pulled her long, fine, sea-weedy hair back from her face.

And that day, a mermaid left her natural home. She changed her tail for long legs. And with Ancestor McKay began a family, as his bride.

They were happy. She built a large family, bearing six children. All survived. That mermaid loved her man, true and true.

But as their children aged and became independent, she fell into melancholy. She longed to see (sea) her native world again. She said to him, "We must visit the wild ocean." And he immediately agreed, because her heart beat in his chest.

They would visit the wild ocean again and reminisce.

They walked together, just the two of them. The waves thumped. The gravel rattled. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Would you like a few minutes alone, lassie?" he asked. It was the hardest thing he'd ever said. He knew what it could mean.

He ached for the place where he belonged, so for sure she ached for her place. He'd thought: "With the children gone, would she wish to stay on land?"

He literally could not imagine life without her.

He depended on her. He depended on her mood. He depended on her kindness. He depended on her body within arms' reach.

But you could not truly know another's thoughts or predict someone's behavior.

He was in love. She was in love.

She swam away from the shore, tunneled into the waves, and disappeared. "Graceful as a dolphin after all these years," he thought.

And that's why the McKays to this day yearn to live near the ocean. To reunite.

 

There are no "J"s in the Periodic Table

on loan from the Museum of Useless Information ]

Starting a new society for professional FR communicators

 

the Don't Send Out Smelly Diapers society, pledged to doing donor comms right. From the manifesto:+:=: "The enemy of vastly improved giving and retention are the smelly diapers that pass for donor communications these days." UPDATE -- Adrian Salmon has formed a cousin group in the UK: Don't Send Out Smelly Nappies society. DSOSN

Heather McGinness is walking < click to enlarge >

I'm bringing some photos to Albuquerque to show the audience what Rhode Island looks like.

This might be the best headline to wake up to ever. Make it your ringtone. This is the eternal flame. Until females (studies show) control at least 33% of every legislature, parliament, body, congress.... Testosterone is the most dangerous chemical in nat

Top stories at the Farm Mark NECT dateline 6:22:14

Poor moth? Or evolutionary moment?

Just killed the fluttering thing that managed to find a way into my office. Will moths that avoid offices have a better shot at species survival? Will my karma ever be vanilla?