"You want to run around in circles inspiring people to run around in circles."

I have a list of phrases that bother me. Like "throw out some dates" or any noun preceded by the word "per." The latest addition to that list is any title that includes the word "change," as illustrated in the following conversation:

"Hi, Matt. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too. Where do you work?"

"Oh, I'm between jobs. Kind of looking around for a company that needs a paradigm shift. Usually, CEOs hire me to be a change agent."

"That's great! What do you change them into?"

"Um, you know, just stir things up. Be more modern."

"More modern how?"

"Like, the Internet!"

"What about it?"

"Its possibilities! I'm like a spark plug. I get people excited."

"About the Internet?"

"No! About change."

"What kind of change?"

"Change for the better."

"No kidding? Change is by definition transitive. What will the change produce? What does the company look like as a result? Has anyone outlined a goal or a vision for the future?"

"Well, I don't deal with day-to-day measurements."

"I didn't ask for any."

"I'm more of an evangelist."

"For what?"

"Change. I'm a change evangelist."

"Are you messing with me on purpose?"

"Oh, I get it. You're afraid of change."

"No, I'm not afraid of change. Some days I crave it. Other days it's just a fact of life, like breathing and dealing with idiots. But I am wary of change that isn't accompanied by vision. And in the absence of evidence to the contrary, I'm going to have to assume that you call yourself a 'change agent' because you have no ideas, no skills and no work ethic. Therefore you're trying to assume a title that precludes you from having to produce any sort of actual results. You want to run around in circles inspiring people to run around in circles. That's not change. It's just a waste of time."

Me versus Clas Greve: A thing I wrote about the movie Headhunters

[Ed. - This is a review, of sorts, of Headhunters, which was recommended to me by @jmuspratt. It is rife with spoilers. In fact, it's nothing but spoilers. And it'll only be funny if you've seen the movie. So I guess it's not a review. It's just a thing I wrote. Enjoy.]

Imagine you're a military hero who has entered civilian life and, through a combination of innovation and charisma, risen to become the millionaire CEO of a huge corporation. You're also a very attractive human. (Lucky you.) But your huge corporation is faltering, and you think a merger with a competitor might save it.

Given this situation, I would call the rival president and discuss stock options.

But Clas Greve decides to fake his own resignation and attempt to get himself installed as CEO of his rival, where he can orchestrate a buyout from the inside.

Given this situation, I would phone the headhunter leading the candidate search and ask if he wanted to get lunch, assuming that as the ex-CEO of a major rival, I'd get a call back.

But Clas Greve decides to hire a hooker to seduce the married headhunter, assuming that she can then introduce them. (Because obviously your fuckbuddy's buddy is a better job candidate than a globally recognized CEO.) Unfortunately for Clas Greve, said headhunter terminates the affair when he correctly deduces said hooker is a raving psycho.

Given this situation, I'd revert to Plan A: call the headhunter and ask for an interview.

But Clas Greve decides to seduce the headhunter's hot wife, assuming she will then be more than happy to make the introduction. (Because as anybody who's ever eaten breakfast knows, the first rule of having an affair is, "Always make sure your lover gets plenty of quality time with your spouse.")

Given this situation, and being the attractive millionaire ex-war-hero CEO I am, I'd probably walk up to the headhunter's hot wife and lay one on her.

But Clas Greve concocts a ludicrous story about a potentially valuable piece of art in his attic. What he doesn't know is that his target will mention this nonexistent art to husband, who (wouldn't you know it!) is an amateur art thief who promptly burgles Clas Greve's home, but inexplicably decides to call his wife halfway through, at which point her cell phone, which she unfortunately left under Clas Greve's bed, rings, alerting him to the fact that his wife has been, er, gettin' some. At this juncture, the headhunter wisely decides to not hire Clas Greve.

Now Clas Greve doesn't know why the headhunter turned against him. But here he performs the only logical action in the whole movie, which is to go on a murderous rampage across Norway in a ludicrous attempt to kill the headhunter because, um, I don't know. But rampages are awesome!

Seriously, I wanted to like Headhunters, which is the highest-grossing Norwegian film of all time, which probably explains Norway's global domination. It's part art heist, part thriller, and part gross-out gore flick. I forgave the fat-guy-air-balloons and the microtransmitter-in-the-hair-gel. But no matter how far I tried to suspend my disbelief, I couldn't get over the fact that I could beat Clas Greve at fucking tic tac toe. Idiocy is not a compelling character trait in a villain.

It's all free time

"When will you be free?"

"Can you grab me when you're free?"

"What do you do with your free time?"

These questions drive me nuts. Not because I never have free time. Quite the opposite.

Every second I have is free time.

I'm not overworked, overstressed or overcommitted. I choose to work. Partially because I enjoy it. Mostly because it's how I feed my family.

Yes, there are people who actually have moments that aren't free. They live in a dictatorship somewhere. Or they have a health condition. Or they're living paycheck to paycheck. Right now, I'm not talking about them.

I am talking about average Americans who choose to think in terms of "work time" and "free time." Those people are boxing themselves into a miserable corner of their own making, relinquishing their  lives to the dictates of cruel bosses and nagging clients. And the only thing they need to do to escape this self-imposed prison is repeat to themselves, "It's all free time."

Is it possible for my brain to do this?

My brain did something really disturbing last night. Something I wouldn't have thought possible. Something so flabergasting to me that I am blogging it now in the hopes someone might understand how the brain can work in this marvelous but terrifying way.

The first thing you should know is that I sometimes dream entire original movies. These movies are often long, graphic, densely plotted horror movies. I wake up feeling like I watched a very sick, very scary piece of underground cinema.

Last night I had one of these dreams. And I noticed some elements early on in my dream-film that seemed out of place. A misplaced seam on a jacket, for instance. At the end of the movie, there was a huge twist. (He was the killer all along! Here's how he killed his victims! Here's why!) The end of my dream-film explained the misplaced seam and other elements from early in the dream.

Think about that for a second. Some part of my brain composed the entire script of a dream in advance, including seeding it with clues and foreshadowing. That means my composer-brain must have known how the dream would end all along. Then, somehow, my composer-brain was able to keep all these elements secret from my audience-brain so that it could be surprised (and disgusted) by the big twist.

I only have one brain, don't I? Don't I?

I think I hate the Internet

I hate sploggers. I have a Google news alerts on all of Karsh\Hagan's clients. And all of them, especially "American Crew," are triggered a dozen times a day by sploggers. This vomiting up of noncontent should be punishable by law.

I hate teases. People who Tweet things like, "This made my day! LINK" or "Check this out! LINK" Can't you even bother to tell me whether the link leads to a photo or song or give me some little hint?

I hate faux modesty. Status updates like, "I can't believe my blog post is getting so many great, smart comments! LINK" Give me a break. Your transparent attempt to draw traffic to your blog by feigning humility is silly. If you have a great post up, just post the title and let me decide for myself.

I hate complimenting up. I hate insulting up, too, of course. But at least the time-honored practice of drawing your betters into pissing matches requires nimbleness, persistence and balls. The newly popular method of flattering your betters so you can bask in their reflected glory really makes my skin crawl. "I can't believe I'm about to meet INSERT NAME HERE!" Or "Love your most recent post INSERT NAME HERE!" Or "In the offices of INSERT NAME HERE and so psyched to be meeting all their awesome and talented people!" Stop it, stop it, stop it. Nobody buys your lame attempt to ride someone else's coattails.

Oh my god, I think I hate the Internet. When did this happen? What the hell is going on?