tweeting from the toilet

Just need to apply to two jobs per day

Found out today that I only have 90 days

How many times has Bobby switched his position on Palestine-Israel conflict @grok? Provide dates to the best of your abilities.

Are you a naturalist?

This is the worst take ever. It is in a cat’s nature to hunt. Keeping them inside is unnatural and wrong.

What his net worth

Is it normal for a roofer to just hang your @Starlink off your roof by the Ethernet cable?

Well that worked

Seriously @grok who is this guy

Why in the world can’t @jimmyjohns toast a slim?

.@grok what say you?

Brand new washer installed today. What does this mean @TheMaytagMan?

It is rather graphic in the first 30 seconds but then again they let p*rn on this platform

@grok estimate the hourly wage of a server that is making $120 tips on a single table.

Here’s what I learned, the hard way, in Bloomington-Normal: When power protects itself instead of the mission, good people become expendable. You can do everything right—run the fair process, protect the money, refuse to play the game—and still lose the job. That’s not failure. That’s proof you never belonged in the game in the first place. I left with my integrity intact, my family still whole, and a remote role that lets me travel and still be home when it matters. Some exits don’t require fireworks. They only require you to walk out the door without looking back. And sometimes the universe sends you a quiet confirmation on June 6th that you were right all along.

They hired one anyway. The 100th anniversary of Route 66 was coming. Someone had to “push everything through.” They brought in a new Director with fresh energy and a polished résumé. On June 6—6/6—the new Director walked into the CEO’s office and gave notice. The seat was empty again before the summer even began.

On my last day I packed my office the way sailors once packed their seabags—quietly, without ceremony. I told the CEO it simply wasn’t a good fit and that I had made a mistake coming here. I meant every word. Then I found my COO in the hallway and said the one thing I had been carrying since the day I signed the competitor’s contract: “Don’t hire another Director of Marketing.” He looked at me for a long moment. He understood.

The temperature in the building dropped overnight. The CEO stopped smiling altogether. Every meeting became a quiet war of attrition—subtle corrections, sudden new priorities, the slow erosion of authority that feels like drowning in slow motion. I kept showing up. I kept doing the work. But I could feel the ground shifting beneath my feet.

I ran the RFP the only way I knew how—honestly. I asked hard questions. I demanded measurable results. I treated public money like it belonged to the people who paid taxes, because it did. NPR never moved. Their proposal stayed vague, their numbers soft. So I signed with their competitor. The contract was clean. The decision was defensible.

The CEO smiled when she first mentioned the local NPR station. “Smart advertising,” she said. “They reach the right people.” Weeks passed. The smile never reached her eyes. Then I learned the VP of Development at that station sat on our board—an influential woman my COO once described in a quiet hallway as someone who “leaves bodies behind.” The CEO did not want to be next.