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Revised Corporate Mottoes for 2025

Google: "Do no evil -- on Fridays, between 4:30 pm and 5 pm." "All your thoughts are belong to us." "One search to rule them all, and in the darkness bind them." "Google product graveyard tours start on the hour, every hour, between 8 am and 10 pm, PST. Follow the happy guides with the multicolored open umbrellas." Microsoft : "That's a nice little company you've built there. It would be a shame if something happened to it." "Your dependence is our innovation." "We'll stop supporting you when the world stops supporting us." "Please do not turn off your mind until the upgrade is completed." Apple: "For your convenience, you can now direct deposit your paycheck to the Apple Store." "Selling you back the illusion of freedom, one device at a time." "Would you like a device with your adapter? We also sell adapter for our adapters. Tesla: "As an add-on to your car pur...
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Josephine's Unusual Birthday Present

Josephine's father was a successful businessman who spent most of his life growing his businesses. At the age of 55, he owned several businesses, including a baseball stadium. Last year, though, he had a health scare. He needed surgery for a serious health condition. Luckily, the operation was successful, but he emerged from the surgery a different person. He was now ready to live his life differently. So, when his daughter Josephine's 12-birthday was coming up, he asked her, "Sweetie, what would you like for your birthday this year? Think of whatever you want." Josephine replied, "Whatever I want? Really?" "Yes, sweetie. Tell me what you'd like for your birthday." Josephine replied, "Let me think this over. I'll tell you what I'd like tomorrow." At dinner the following evening, Josephine sat up straight in her chair and said, "Dad, I've thought about what I'd like for my birthday." Her dad said, "And wh...
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My Sermon on Open Source

Gather ye round, ye pilgrims of progress, ye seekers of syntax and salvation, for today I bring you not just words—but The Word Made Code . I bring glad tidings of great joy: the Gospel of Open Source. Let he who has eyes, read the README. Let she who has ears, hear the license of the Lord—be it GPL, MIT, or Apache—freely given, freely shared. I. In the Beginning Was the Code And lo, in the early days, the Code was without form and void. Proprietary darkness covered the face of the deep. And the Spirit of Collaboration hovered over the servers. Then came the First Commandment: "Thou shalt not hide thy source, nor bind thy neighbor with licenses of bondage." But some turned from the path. They hoarded their algorithms. They DRM'd their data. They made idols of profit and obfuscated truth with closed binaries. These were the False Coders. II. The Prophet Linus Spake But in the wilderness of Finland arose a prophet. His name was Linus. And he saith unto the people: "I b...
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The Humble Virtues of a Simple Private Jet

I have often thought that the question of how one ought to live is as perennial as the seasons, and as susceptible to overcomplication as the foliage of a tangled wood. To live deliberately, with purpose, requires discernment: a stripping away of the superfluous so that the essential may shine forth. And yet, in this age of noise and haste, we find ourselves burdened by the overornamentation of our means. I submit, dear reader, that even in the realm of private aviation—perhaps especially there—simplicity is the truest luxury. It is not the extravagance of the flight, nor the ostentation of its trappings, that speaks to the nobility of human endeavor. A gilded fuselage or a chandelier within the cabin may dazzle the senses, but they do little to elevate the spirit. Far better to have a simple, unadorned jet: one that carries us swiftly, efficiently, and humbly to where we must go. The grandeur of the journey lies not in the seat coverings or the champagne served but in the soaring per...
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The Sanctuary of Music Making

In a crumbling apartment building on the edge of Detroit, seventeen-year-old Malik adjusted the strings of his beaten-up cello. Downstairs, the rattle of pipes and the occasional shout from the street found their way through the thin walls, but inside this room—his grandmother's old sewing room, now converted into a makeshift studio—there was only the cello and the slow breath of silence before music. Malik had discovered the cello by accident, stumbling upon it in a school closet during detention. The music teacher, Mr. Alvarez, had let him take it home "just to see if it fits you." It didn't at first—his fingers were clumsy, his bowing a disaster—but something in the deep voice of the instrument had spoken to a place inside him that words never reached. Across the ocean in a sun-drenched village in southern Italy, 64-year-old Sofia sat on the worn wooden stool in her kitchen, her accordion resting gently on her lap. The kitchen smelled of garlic and lemon zest, and ...
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Dear Dairy

Moosetta was no ordinary teenage cow. For one, she had a penchant for introspection that set her apart from the herd. While her bovine peers spent their days ruminating on grass and gossiping about Farmer Ted's questionable overalls, Moosetta dreamed of expressing herself. So, one day, she picked up a pen (a challenge without opposable thumbs, but determination prevailed) and started her journal, Dear Dairy . Day 1 Dear Dairy, Today, Betsy said I chew my cud like I'm in a Shakespearean tragedy. That's udderly unfair. If contemplating existence while chewing is a crime, then lock me up. Also, I caught Farmer Ted sneaking cookies behind the barn. He dropped one. It was chocolate chip. A win for me, a loss for his waistline. Day 3 Dear Dairy, I've decided that I want to write poetry. Here's my first attempt: The pasture green, the sun does gleam, My moo unheard, a bovine dream. It needs work, but the chickens seemed impressed. Except for Cluck Norris—he's always s...
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Mount Everest - First Person

Stop crawling up my spine. The hubris of your species never fails to amaze me. I'm a slab of rock -- and I've got more intelligence than y'all. I'm just a mountain who wants to go to work every day and spend time with my little mountains. Stop bothering me. Just stop it. Do you think planting your little flags in my snow is some kind of profound achievement? Please. You think you're conquering me? I'm not a prize to be won. I've been here longer than you can imagine, and I'll still be here long after you're gone, whether your flag is flapping up here or not. The truth is, you're not conquering me. You're just rolling the dice with your fragile little lives. You call it a challenge. I call it foolishness. Why do you need to risk your lives to feel like you've accomplished something? Is the only way to measure your worth by the number of dangers you've dodged? Here's an idea: why don't you climb the metaphorical mountains in you...
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The Biggest Little Free Library - A Short Story

The Three Rivers Branch Library, located in Visalia, California, was modest—two rooms, beige walls, and shelves that smelled of sun-warmed paperbacks. It stood quietly near the Kaweah River, more a gathering place than a building, more heart than institution. Yet in early spring, rumors spread like wildfire through the town: the county was considering closing it down. For many in Three Rivers, this was unthinkable. The library wasn't just about books. It was where children learned to dream, where retirees found company, and where hikers stopped by for maps and stories before heading up to the groves of Sequoia National Park.   So, the townsfolk called a meeting. They packed into the multipurpose room—farmers with dusty boots, artists with paint on their sleeves, shopkeepers, and children still clutching backpacks. The library manager, a thoughtful man named Mr. Alvarez, scribbled notes as the room buzzed with ideas. "Bake sales." "A fundraising gala." "Part...
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Spence the Expunged Sponge

Spencer was not a delinquent ocean sponge. He was raised properly by his parents, but he made some bad decisions. True, he was under pressure of turbulent ocean currents, but that does not excuse his behavior. So, he ended up spending six months in prison. Being a young adult, this criminal record could make it difficult for him to find employment. So, after he completed his sentence, he went before the judge to get his record expunged. The judge, after careful thought, explained that while Spencer's actions were indeed reckless, the ocean was a place of second chances. "Spencer," the judge began, adjusting her coral glasses, "you may have been caught in a bad tide, but we all know even the strongest of us sometimes get swept away. I'm willing to expunge your record, but you must prove you're ready to clean up your act." Spencer nodded earnestly. "Thank you, Your Honor. I promise to turn over a new… er, sponge." The judge smiled faintly. "...
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Affordable Housing for Billionaires

One of the thing I'm most concerned about is affordable housing for billionaires. Many of them do not have a regular paycheck. They subsist month to month on passive income that flows into their bank accounts like the Niagara River surging after an intense downpour. Many of them have no idea where their next $100 million will come from. Take a moment to look behind the facade of their lives. Underneath their gilded and sparkling trappings lie tales of uncertainty and apprehension, where maintaining an extravagant lifestyle is akin to treading a tightrope suspended over a chasm of financial instability.   Picture, if you will, the bewildering complexities of their predicament. While the rest of society frets over bills, mortgages, and making ends meet, billionaires grapple with an entirely different set of fiscal quandaries.   Their lifeblood, the passive income, ebbs and flows with the volatility of the global economy, subject to the caprices of stock markets, real estate vent...
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