I honestly thought David Murray, Steve Crescenzo, and the rest of the IABC/Ragan Rat Pack were natural literary curmudgeons. But when squeaky Canadian-clean Ron Shewchuk felt compelled to recant the tone of his comment on David's latest blog as not being edgy enough, I had a mother of an "aha!" moment.
And I quothe: "I just realized how f*%$!!g [spelled correctly, in full] boring my last post was. No readers of this blog deserve such grandfatherly schmaltz. I wish I were trying to quit smoking so I could have that David Murray edge! I promise I'll try to be more of an asshole in the future."
Ron felt he had let the team down.
Apparently, if your Corp Comm blog doesn't ring with the blood-letting parry and thrust of a Tasmanian devil in unsupervised heroin withdrawal, you owe your reading public an apology. This is because real CC bloggers are a cranky, clever, cynical lot with murky backgrounds, a palpable disdain for those less linguistically enlightened, and a free hand with an emancipated vocabulary of the kind that got their mouths washed out with soap when they were kids.
"Yes, I inhaled, dammit, and I'm proud of it! I don't need no stinkin' presidency, anyway. Presidencies are for mealymouthed ex-CEOs who couldn't communicate their way out of a paper bag.... They're just corporate boobs who rattle on about 'leveraging employee engagement to empower corporate stakeholders to hit challenges out of the park.' I wouldn't take the Presidency if you shoved it down my f*%$!!g throat."
The truth is, I've met some of these guys. To a person, at least in conference mode, they have been smart, encouraging, creative, and witty people who need to pay the mortgage and feed the pet Vietnamese pig, just like everybody else. They also leak empathy. Yes, they spew vociferous rants into the blogosphere about what noodle-headed language mashers they have for clients. But when they're in their street clothes, I have this growing suspicion that they actually enjoy helping the poor stock-option bloated executive blighters navigate the slings and arrows of outrageous corporate baffle-gab. I need to believe that deep in their darkened souls, they know that mocking the linguistically blind for their inability to see is just not cricket.
HA! You guys are so busted. You won't fool me any longer. Ron, being Canadian and unable to help being nice out loud, you're just the most transparent of the lot. The rest of you? Come out of the closet and be the sweet boys your mother still knows in her heart you are!
Or have I missed something?
The truth is, I've met some of these guys. To a person, at least in conference mode, they have been smart, encouraging, creative, and witty people who need to pay the mortgage and feed the pet Vietnamese pig, just like everybody else. They also leak empathy. Yes, they spew vociferous rants into the blogosphere about what noodle-headed language mashers they have for clients. But when they're in their street clothes, I have this growing suspicion that they actually enjoy helping the poor stock-option bloated executive blighters navigate the slings and arrows of outrageous corporate baffle-gab. I need to believe that deep in their darkened souls, they know that mocking the linguistically blind for their inability to see is just not cricket.
HA! You guys are so busted. You won't fool me any longer. Ron, being Canadian and unable to help being nice out loud, you're just the most transparent of the lot. The rest of you? Come out of the closet and be the sweet boys your mother still knows in her heart you are!
Or have I missed something?
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