KVETCHING

Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls: Who steals my purse steals trash; ‘tis something, nothing; ‘Twas mine, ‘tis his, and has been slave to thousands; But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed.

---Othello, III,iii,155 I learned recently that some miserable little piss-ant corporate Caesar in a position of power that enables him on a whim to ruin reputations and destroy careers has chucked me into outer darkness and declared my name anathema among the pathetic flunkies who must kowtow to him, lest they suffer the same fate. No one has favored me with a catalogue of my alleged offenses, nor am I in a position to request one. No, I must guess at the charges against me (so much for the right to confront one's accuser), and it's not a pleasant pastime. The affair has been most painful. In the dark hours between midnight and dawn, one tends to imagine scenarios of complete collapse and ruin. No, damn it, I’m not whining. Yes, yes, I might as well be barking at the moon, I know; instead, I'm barking in cyberspace. Please indulge me. A good irrational pissed-off rant (which certainly qualifies as looking foolish) is good for the soul (see above). This sort of development helps one understand how, in the more brutal days of yesteryear, palace intrigues and malicious lies often spawned murders of vengeance -- not that any such thing has crossed my mind, needless to say. Ah, well, rough with the smooth and all that, I suppose. I'll get over it. Like the contents of my colon, this too will pass. Have a nice day.