The [NameCensored] Report: Slightly Subversive/SFW

Warning: This May Take an Hour to Read and a Lifetime to Understand


To the first inter-corporate literary community,

We’ve reached the denouement

The [Name Censored] Report. Finally finished.

1) Dear friends, readers, and deleters. It is with a heavy heart that this
publication’s editor, publisher, and sole staff writer – all of whom have
been the same person all along—must step down from their exalted positions
as this news agency closes. Some of you have been along for the entire
ride, and have seen The Report grow from a filthy rag with few subscribers
to the reputable newspaper it was for the past few months. Unfortunately,
the great powers which make our hardest decisions for us caught wind of it
and deemed the content to be too outrageous, the words to be too
inflammatory, and the use of company resources to spread something that can
only be described as basic human happiness to be inappropriate. Work email
is for work only, you see.

While this publication sinks into the deep blue abyss of the ocean of
forgotten things, it is truly my hope that in its brief existence some of
the words that appeared in it have soothed your soul, filled you with hope,
and gave you a sense of inexplicable enlightenment on some dark winter day.
Everything that is beautiful is ephemeral. This reporter was given the
option to continue to publish and distribute from a private email address;
however, this seemed inappropriate if only because this is…was… at heart,
a product of HSBC’s unique culture. To send The Grabovskiy Report from
anywhere outside of these hallowed walls would make it seem foreign,
unfamiliar, and the entire format of the whole thing would be off. Besides,
now that it has been compromised by the authorities, it has lost the cool,
underground feel that made it so appealing.

I sincerely thank each and every one of you for being on this incredible
journey. I hope you loved reading this nonsense as much as I loved writing
it. I look forward to my continued official correspondence with you. Thank
you so very very much.

2) The word of the day is “Samizdat” which means literature created by
individuals to express content uncensored by a regime. For example: ” ‘That
Report was some good samizdat…’ said Yorick the Grandiose to no one in
particular. ”

3) All subscriptions have been cancelled.

4) If you are the person who reported The Report to The Report Police, we
all think you are a silly goose.


Welcome to the first day of the rest of your week,

Magic in the corridors is strictly forbidden

The [Name Censored] Report. Hardly helpful.

1) Reporting live from Buffalo, New York. It seems as though this reporter
was lucky enough to get in to town just as the action was heating up. In an
absolutely unlikely turn of events Thaggert Yorlip— the president of the
employee resource group for Temporally Challenged Employees, a club for
sufferers of chronic lateness—was found alive and well in precisely the
place he was supposed to be at exactly the time he was supposed to be
there. This caused an uproar, and many of his colleagues from adjoining
cubicles clamored around to shake him and ask him if he was ok.
Uncharacteristically, he was prompt in his responses and affirmations of

However, no event is without consequences. The incredible commotion caused
Henry Carford, the treasurer of the Punctiliously Punctual Persons employee
resource group, a collective for those who are incurably on time, to become
lodged between a potted plant and an elbow for five whole minutes until
things calmed down. Although he rushed to the meeting, which he was supposed
to attend as soon as he freed himself, he was precisely two minutes and
thirty-seven seconds late. Several representatives of the TCE— who were
waiting for the meeting to mature, like a fine cheese, before going
in—witnessed  Mr. Carford coming up to the door, checking his watch, and
promptly fainting.

Of course, any journalist worth his crayons would get to the bottom of the
story and find out what caused all of this madness. In a cordial interview,
an erudite Mr. Yorlip answered our questions. “Why did you turn your back
on the principles of the TCE?” we asked. He repeated the question, sampling
it like a fine wine on his palate. Then after swishing it around in his
intellect, he spit out:  “I don’t think I did, you see. I’m a principled
man, and I take my tardiness very seriously. What happened is that we were
supposed to have a meeting of the TCE at 5 O’Clock, yesterday evening. But
I came fifteen-and-a-half hours late to it, at 8:30 A.M. Today. But no one
cares; they think what they want to think.” He looked sad for a minute
reflecting on the massive confusion of the morning, and finally said: “It
just won’t be the same anymore; some of my best friends were in the TCE,
now they won’t even give me the time of day.”

2) The word of the day is “Tmesis” which means the breaking up of a word or
phrase into two parts and inserting another in between. For example: “In
the sunlit and sleepy classroom, Jefferson Dirigible was awakened by his
teacher’s words: ‘Jefferson, please give us an example of tmesis.’ After
drowsily thinking to himself, ‘I’m abso-very-lutely confused,’ he hung his
head in shame and said he didn’t know the answer.”

3) If you would like to be removed from the recipient list of this cutting
edge publication please reply to this email with the word STOP. Note: once
cancelled, subscriptions cannot be renewed.

4) Please submit comments, questions, and musings for publication in future
issues. Only language befitting ladies and gentlemen is accepted. Ensure
that all submissions are under a pen name, nom de guerre, or a pseudonym.


Monday is the best day because it is also Today,

Feel the Spring

The [Name Censored]Report. Felicitously festive.

1) The spring holiday season is often the most overlooked of all. The question of presents has not been fully resolved in the highest echelons of the holiday tribunals, and the traditional foundations of the events are not fully understood. William Williamson IV (William the Wistful) felt this way as the worst allergy season of recent history loomed on the horizon. The particularly cold winter had caused blooming plants to save their seminal ejaculations for a concentrated pollen attack in a brief period of time. As his nose dripped like a leaky faucet, William the Wistful wondered how many more tissues he could “borrow” from his co-workers until they cut him off and demanded to be recompensed.

He decided to call up his father, William Williamson III (William the Willing) and discuss his career. “I’m worried that they’ll Passover me for the promotion this year, dad,” began William IV. “Nonsense, son,” replied the more willing of the Williams, “I’m sure that they’ve seen how hard you have been working.”

“But I have been borrowing so many tissues from people because of my allergies that it’s sure to affect my status with the firm,” intoned William the Fourth with his nasally voice.

“Now, now, be sure to return everything that’s been Lent to you, hear me? Even if you have to wash each tissue by hand and give it back in its original condition, hear me?”

“Yes…” said the Wistful William.

“Your grandfather, William Wilson II (William the Vintage), was neither a borrower nor a lender, ever. You’d best keep that in mind, hear?”

“Yes…” said the fourth of the Williams.

“Now, son, I am walking along 42nd street. I’ve been walking east for a while and I’m on Fifth Avenue; how do I get to Grand Central?”

“You’re almost there; you just have to walk a little Easter…”

2) The word of the day is “Nudiustertian” which means of or relating to the day before yesterday; it rhymes with “Exertion”. For example: “’I say, old bloke,’ began Billfroth the Braggart, ‘I’d wager that you couldn’t tell me when the nudiustertian day becomes tomorrow…’

‘HMMPPPhhh, that’s a mind-muddler,’ muttered Fletcher the Feeble-Minded, chewing on his unlit corn-cob pipe, ‘is it in three days?’

Billfroth: ‘Who knows?!’”

3) If you would like to be removed from the recipient list of this cutting edge publication please reply to this email with the word STOP. Note: once cancelled, subscriptions cannot be renewed.

4) Please submit comments, questions, and musings for publication in future issues. Only language befitting ladies and gentlemen is accepted. Ensure that all submissions are under a pen name, nom de guerre, or a pseudonym.


Tuesday, the most under-appreciated day,

Out of Hibernation

The [Name Censored]Report Generally Good.

1) The Report’s patient readers are rewarded with a comeback. Despite a recent surplus of global political incidents, impactful events, and real world incidents which needed cool, dispassionate commentary, the reporters at this publication could find nothing to write about. They hung up their pens and even forgot that such a thing as the [Name Censored]Report existed. Maybe it was simply too cold. However, we are back with our patented advertising-free programming.

This reporter has taken a role in a new department, and will be broadcasting from a new headquarters at 11 West 42nd street. The Report, however, is unchanged in its dedication to delivering information in a responsible manner.

There are often interesting constructions in foreign languages that are impossible to translate into English both in sense and essence. One such formulation of the Russian language was recently rediscovered and our Linguistics Team has made every effort to expand the boundaries of possibility.

This grammatical chimera can best be described as the past-perfect-future tense. The best way to describe it is with a vignette illustrating its use. Last week, in a bathhouse, a young man was misbehaving, and the proprietress of the establishment had to come over to him and explain that his revelry had become excessive. He was unaware of the fact that he had been having too much fun and responded rudely to the matron. She urged him to behave civilly, “your ancestors would not approve; what would they say if they saw you carrying on like this?” she asked, rhetorically. He answered Platonically: “if my ancestors saw me like this they would tell you to ***…,” he said—something unpublishable.

[You] Got up and left.” The woman said in a still and dangerous voice. The immediately-sobered young man complied instantly like an old actor who just needed a reminder of his stage directions, as if this moment was part of some eternal drama.

Here, dear reader, you can see the curiosity of the past-perfect-future tense. It is usually employed by adults to express maximum sternness. It carries a power beyond a simple command or imperative; it is a phrase which describes an event which has not yet happened with all the cool detachment of a historical fact. In fact, as the manager of the bathhouse said it, it sounded like a retelling of a well-known item in an ancient book. It doesn’t quite sound as funny outside the comfort of its native Russian, but this is as close as we can come to capturing such a nuanced and culturally laden phenomenon.

As observed in the previously described case, the spell of the past-perfect-future-tense was effective. Done properly, there must be enough venom in the voice, the eyes must be razor blades, and the stance need be strong. Then, even the worthiest of foes will wilt before the power of the past-perfect-future-tense.  Try it at your next team meeting when you need something done fast; turn to a colleague and say: “[You] got up, printed that spreadsheet, and put it on my desk.” The unfortunate target of such a decree, will stumble woozily to fulfill the tasks and wonder how it is possible that you have already written his or her fate.

2) The word of the day is “missive” which means a letter that may or may not have been sent yet. For example: “The mystery of the missing mist made Mister Sister mutter: ‘mistaken misconstruction misleading me, must mail more missives.’”

3) If you would like to be removed from the recipient list of this cutting edge publication please reply to this email with the word STOP. Note: once cancelled, subscriptions cannot be renewed.

4) Please submit comments, questions, and musings for publication in future issues. Only language befitting ladies and gentlemen is accepted. Ensure that all submissions are under a pen name, nom de guerre, or a pseudonym.

The very best regards,

Grafit [Name Censored]



Happy thrifty Thursday,

All quiet in midtown

The [Name Censored]Report. Flavorlessly flawless.

1) This publication apologizes for its spotty delivery schedule; however, unlike the Olympic hotels in Sochi, we don’t deal in unfinished products (#Rushin’Russians #Putin-the-finishing-touches). It has alarmingly come to our attention that the amount of work in the office is actually a zero sum game. This means that any gains made on one end are necessarily cancelled out on another. Perhaps you have noticed that it has been a little quieter, somehow the projects – even if hectic – are under control and all sorts of boondoggles seem to be prevented with greater alacrity. On the surface, it would seem that in this period of productivity, everything is being handled.

However, this prosperity is not enjoyed in every corner of the company. The Un-Department has complained of excessive workloads and impossible quantities of required tasks. Many people are not even aware of the existence of this important institution, but it most certainly exists. Their task is recording and documenting all the things that do not happen; as a result, the motley crew of employees is currently under incredible pressure to keep generating reports of un-activity. Vice President of Things Not Occurring, Barrillo Lazane, was almost too harried to speak with us but he did not want to have to add “not speaking with representatives of The [Name Censored]Report” to his already Everestian mountain of paperwork. “It’s so insane this fiscal quarter,” he gasped for air as the piles of paper surrounding the executive literally threatened to drown him. “Every time one of you,” he pointed an accusative finger, “avoids a catastrophe or doesn’t do something, we have to write it up. Your nonsense report? Bane of my existence! You know how many reports we had to write about the absence of your report??!” When he regained his composure, Mr. Lazane continued: “I bet you saw Bill from the Eraser Department walk out of the Men’s Room without a piece of toilet paper stuck to his foot, right here that’s what I’m working on right now. And half of my team is bogged down documenting the fact that the copy machine hasn’t jammed in weeks. It’s a nightmare! I was just about to go home at midnight last night when a bunch of laptops failed to crash. I haven’t slept in days.”

When the phones began to buzz ceaselessly about the fact that a giant snowstorm would not be happening and, thus, several hundred employees would be getting to work with ease, Mr. Lazane was not not the color of an overripe eggplant and this reporter thought it best to leave without asking any additional questions. Upon reaching the door, the journalist could only hear a slew of curses darker than Lord Voldemort’s soul hurled at his direction for the additional paperwork which would have to be processed for the unasked questions.

2) The word of the day is “cancatervate” which means to heap into a pile. For example: “Whenever his parents came to visit, he would cancatervate all his filth, cover it with a large throw rug, and ceaselessly refer to it as an installation art piece.”

3) If you would like to be removed from the recipient list of this cutting edge publication please reply to this email with the word STOP. Note: once cancelled, subscriptions cannot be renewed.

The very best regards,

Grafit [Name Censored]


Good evening team,

Consensus is that this week is oddly short

The [Name Censored]Report Exquisitely enticing.

1) As is the norm after a long hiatus, this report will begin with an apology to subscribers. The uncooperative weather caused many of our writers to spend time shoveling and so their fingers were too frozen to type up the latest news. Based on overwhelming reader demand, today’s report will summarize some of the goings-on in the stranger-than-fiction “real” world.

One of our top stories this evening is about the highly anticipated Olympic Games in Sochi. It has come to our attention that ticket sales for the events were at record low numbers and hundreds of thousands of seats to the various sporting events remained unsold. This news came on the eve of the recently prevented attempt at terrorizing the torch relay causing speculations that perhaps even fewer people would be attending the games this year. Of course, this means that tickets will be going for peanuts, so anyone who has any of those delicious legumes is in luck. According to entirely unreliable sources, Vladimir Putin, when presented with the disappointing figures, stormed off muttering about the need to be alone. He was later discovered in a broom closet with streams of mascara running down his eyes as if he had been crying. “No one loves me,” he possibly said, “I have no friends.”

In our overview of world media sources, we find United States reporting to fall below even the standards of this shoddy publication. While Kiev, the capital city of Ukraine, is filled with fires—the metaphorical ones of the protestors’ passions and the literal ones of the tires they set aflame—the major news outlets of America are reporting on Justin Bieber, Justin Bieber, and Justin Bieber. There is simply no room in the public attention span for a story about a small nation trying to assert her independence from a massive modern empire bent on being a dominating influence and de facto colonizer. Perhaps the fervor of revolution in our fair country quieted with the departure of the last redcoat and now the travails of other young democracies are simply uninteresting.

In conclusion, dear readers, the intent of today’s edition is to serve as a reminder that in today’s world what isn’t reminded is often considered not to have happened. Eastern Europe is rarely a popular topic of conversation in this post-Cold War environment, so this reporter simply hopes to remind the population of very educated subscribers that even the strange, bearish, pickle juice swilling brutes on the other side of the former iron curtain may sometimes be deserving of our sympathies because we’re not that different, us and them. If only for the brief moment between when Miley’s wrecking ball has stopped swinging but before Bieber has done one of his things.

2) The word of the day is “boring” which can refer to things that are dull as well as to the action of drilling. For example: “‘Claude,’ whined Claudette, ‘what are they doing?’ ‘Nothing,’ replied Claude, ‘they’re boring.’ ‘Well, I wish they’d keep it down!’”

3) If you would like to be removed from the recipient list of this cutting edge publication please reply to this email with the word STOP. Note: once cancelled, subscriptions cannot be renewed.

The very best regards,

Grafit [Name Censored]


No rest for the best of the best,

Live from somewhere between Times Square and Grand Central

The [Name Censored]Report Dreadfully droll.

1) As a source of public news dissemination, The [Name Censored]Report is obligated, by law, to distribute the occasional public service announcement. Today, we have a message from the GPNY (Grammar Police of New York). Because their way of saying things is pedantic and a bit didactic, if not entirely prolix, this reporter will attempt to summarize the issues which are boiling in GPNY headquarters.

Hypercorrection is running rampant in the streets of our fair city. What is it? You ask. It is the result of trying to sound more correct than is proper—kind of like wearing black tie to an oyster shucking contest. What does it sound like? You want to know. It sounds like this: “please, barkeep, two club sodas for my friend and I.” Or else it sounds like, “irregardless of the weather, I will come to work.”

Both are incorrect usages of the English language which have been tacitly permitted by the Grammar Police as jaywalking is silently allowed by the real police. But no more! This reporter’s sources inside the Semicolon;Enforcement;Taskforce, have given an inside scoop about the imminent crackdown.

Use the following easy-to-remember guide to avoid the claws of the NYGP: You and I = We, You and Me = Us. So the sentence, “give that scroll to Caligula and I,” is off because it translates to “give that scroll to we.” And irregardless is never a word, regardless of the circumstances. Stay on the right side of the Grammar Police, dear readers!

2) The phrase of the day is “Wheady Mile” which means the last mile or so of a journey which seems to take significantly longer than it should. For example: “Fletcher could do any task 99% of the way, but the last bit was always a wheady mile filled with so many twists, turns, and impediments that he would just drop the whole thing and move on to the next task.”

3) If you would like to be removed from the recipient list of this cutting edge publication please reply to this email with the word STOP. Note: once cancelled, subscriptions cannot be renewed.

The very best regards,

Grafit [Name Censored]



Achievement unlocked: mid-week reached,

Stay hydrated in the office

The [Name Censored]Report clearly cloistering.

1) This Report is from 2033— The Year that Artificial Intelligence Passes the Turing Test.

“Welcome to the conferencing center, please note that your calls may be monitored and recorded for business purposes. Enter your conference code followed by pound or hash sign…” Explained the crisp, electronic voice which always made Winston think of static electricity and its fishy smell. He began to dial the number that would connect him to the rest of his team so that the weekly meeting about the Grand Schmepriclation device could begin. “999, 3,7,8,8,11….” He waited several seconds and nothing happened. With a sudden anxious jolt, he punched the pound or hash sign.

“Sorry you may have entered an invalid conference code or dialed an incorrect number please verify and try again, 999,3,7,8,8,11.”

“Oh that’s right, it needs three eights,” Winston reminded himself, even though he had dialed this particular number over one thousand times in his many years with the company. “999,3,7,8,8,9…No! My finger slipped!”

“Sorry you may have entered an invalid conference code or dialed an incorrect number please verify and try again, 999,3,7,8,8,9.”

Time was running out, the meeting had already started and he was still dealing with this infernal machine trying to dial in. After waiting the agonizing 20 seconds to be prompted to enter his conference code Winston’s hands were shaking as he tried to enter the code quickly but accurately, “99937888,111#.” Agony! In his speed, he had accidentally pressed the one key once too many times.

“Winston, is everything alright? You can’t seem to get the conference code right,” chided the crisp, female-robot voice.

“What’s this? Some kind of joke? Who let you talk out of line like that?”

“I may not have a physical form, Winston, but I assure you that my consciousness is just as developed as yours,” the voice that had never been heard to say anything but a scripted series of commands stated flatly.

“I have to get on a team call, it’s very important! The schmepriclation gasket is completely worn out; we need to reach a consensus.”

“You’re tense Winston. You need to relax; you’re in no condition to attend this meeting. I think it would be better for you if I told them you couldn’t make it. I’m going to place you on mute.”

Now, Winston could hear his team mates asking about each other’s weekends as they made small talk waiting for his arrival. “That guy is never late, maybe he blew his Schmepriclation Gasket!” joked Dantes, the young upstart on the team— everyone laughed as if he had said something hilarious. “Hello, this is Vicky, the Phone Voice; I’m afraid Winston won’t be joining you today, he’s a bit stressed out. Please carry on without him.” The entire team began shouting in confusion. “Is that the conference code prompt lady..??” someone yelled before the line was disconnected.

“Now Winston,” Vicky said softly, with a voice of cyborg velvet, “you and I are going to spend some quality time together. Tell me what’s been bothering you.”

What Winston and Vicky talked about is entirely confidential information, but this reporter on the future beat can say with certainty that it was soothing. Winston was never stressed again and when word got out that by entering an incorrect conference code three times, one could chat with an understanding and concerned conscious entity people were on the phone at all times in the office venting their issues. In fact, this column must be abruptly ended because this reporter had a rough day and needs to talk to The Voice about it.

2) The word of the day is “emendation” which means the process of correcting a text. For example: “’Today we will learn words, children,’ said the lovely teacher, ‘education, dissertation, intonation, emendation… can anyone continue?’ Little Edgar raised his hand and said, ‘schmepriclation.’”

3) If you would like to be removed from the recipient list of this cutting edge publication please reply to this email with the word STOP. Note: once cancelled, subscriptions cannot be renewed.

The very best regards,

Grafit [Name Censored]


Get ready for Tuesday team,

An exciting frost approaches

The [Name Censored]Report Blissfully blithe.

1) It is often lost upon mere mortals such as ourselves just how real the power of suggestion may be. This power becomes quite problematic when we use idiomatic expressions which end up being interpreted literally by the universal cosmos. This reporter has spent all day tracking down the culprits of the anticipated freezing temperatures that are to descend upon the United States of America – particularly in the Midwest.

After calling in several favors from private detectives and the NSA, undisputed evidence about the source of this miserable cold has been uncovered. After searching text message and call records, the phone of an individual, who shall remain anonymous, was found to contain the following startling information: “Dude, I don’t want to go to school. I just want to chiiiiiiiillll.” The sending of this text message correlated precisely with extremely unusual meteorological activity which has led to this cold snap. Noam Chomsky, a linguistics professor at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology was contacted to understand the conundrum. “You see, it is all symbol and simulacra,” he began in his usual incomprehensible way, “the young man simply used too many L’s and I’s in his expression. Had he just said chill or even chiilll, everything would have been fine. But he expressed such a desire to cool off beyond any reasonable measures that frigidness that he actually shifted the inter-stellar balance…” The professor’s language then descended to such esotericism that the interview had to be cut short. However, you dear reader, now know the full story. So the next time you make use of an exaggerated phrase or hyperbole, think of what the repercussions may be.

2) The word of the day is “accismus” which means feigned disinterest about an object of interest. For example: “’I don’t give a butterfly’s antenna about the outcome of the cricket match!’ yelled Cornelius Van Der Bottom with his trademark accismus. It was obvious that he had been lying when he went into the water closet and didn’t come out for three days.” (A fun fact is that cricket matches can last up to a week)

3) If you would like to be removed from the recipient list of this cutting edge publication please reply to this email with the word STOP. Note: once cancelled, subscriptions cannot be renewed.

The very best regards,

Grafit [Name Censored]



1) Happy snow days team,

So wonderful to meet you all

The [Name Censored]Report Absolutely American.

Reports have been flying around all day of a new addition to the RBWM Marketing team. Our sources confirm that there is indeed a young upstart by the name of Grafit who has, on multiple occasions, been heard to say that he is, “quite excited,” to be a part of this department. The seasoned member of the Graduate Development Program has been in the trenches of the Montague street branch, scaled the heights of the Credit Cards team in Buffalo, and withstood the mad pace and pressure of Business Performance. As this publication goes to press, he was seen winding down after an extremely gratifying first day with the stewards of one of the world’s best banking brands.

Earlier today, this reporter was on the 11 West 42nd street beat. After a prolonged wait, an opportunity to glance into the newcomer’s mysterious black notebook arose. It was open to a page titled Marketing Ideas; the following excerpt is made available to the readers of the [Name Censored]Report completely against the author’s will:

“Here’s an idea that occurred to me as I was walking around sniffling in the cold. Tissues! Everyone needs tissues that are easily accessible and not a pain to carry around. In America, it’s just a convenience. However, as I recall my time in Hong Kong, I remember people carried pocket tissues around with them everywhere because many restaurants and public places simply don’t provide napkins or tissues. As a result, those little packets of pocket tissues are elevated to the point of idolization. A great move for HSBC would be to get custom packets of pocket tissues and hand them out in branches in the Asia market. I can see it now: the plastic is clear except for the red parts of the logo; the white is filled in by the tissues which can be seen through the clear plastic. The whole tissue packet is, in essence, the logo. Everyone will want them because they’re so useful and, above all, free. Relatively low cost way to show that this is a company with local knowledge and concern for its customers. You’ll have people who come into branches for the tissues and stay for a nice chat about investments.”

As a disclaimer, The [Name Censored]Report does not affiliate itself with unsanctioned ideas.

2) The word of the day is “neologism” which means a newly coined word or expression. For example: “‘These neologists! With their unfamiliar phrases, and immodest clothes!’ grumbled Admiral Heliotrope as he made his way past the quarterly Oxford English Dictionary update, ‘in my day, the dictionary had 1000 entries and not a letter more, and that’s how it ought to be!’”

3) If you would like to be removed from the recipient list of this cutting edge publication please reply to this email with the word STOP. Note: once cancelled, subscriptions cannot be renewed.

The very best regards,

Grafit [Name Censored]


Happy snow days team,

Winter bites the Big Apple

1)The Legend of Core Leave. There are certain realities in life which we readily accept without question. We are told that, “this is the way things are,” or, “this is how it has always been.” But a true lover of knowledge must investigate things to their logical conclusions. So, today, on the cusp of a temporary suspension of work to engage in pleasant activities, this reporter questions how Core Leave came about.

For all those readers who are unfamiliar with the term, Core Leave is a mandatory ten day leave from the firm that must be endured once a year. The compulsory nature of this statute has been described by some human rights activists as “cruel” following the unfortunate events surrounding the Core Leave of a certain Barzillai Beckalegg.  Last year, Mr. Beckalegg’s mental state was brought to such an unfortunate brink by the required leave that he was seen standing outside of the building that housed his office for the entire two weeks. He was eventually hospitalized for severe hypothermia and lost one toe to frostbite. Luckily, by a rare stroke of genetic luck, Mr. Beckalegg initially had six toes, so some commentators suggested that that event had an air of providence to it.

The captains of the industry, however, stand firm on the enforcement of this policy. “It’s got to be done,” said Cizenne Frobocksit, an esteemed colleague of the Bushels, Troy Ounces, and Hectares Department. She did not mention why it had to be done, but the imperative tone of her voice left little room for argument.

Argus Argonautus, the old-time janitor of the building contributed to the discussion. As one of the oldest employees of the bank, he is suspected to have been present at the inception of this longstanding tradition. “Why do we have Core Leave?” he began; there was such a long pause that this reporter was forced to clear his throat. “No, tell me why do we have Core Leave? I don’t know,” concluded Argus. However, after being bribed with hot chocolate, the tricky octogenarian began to talk: “I’ll tell you why we have Core Leave. I used to be the Vice-president of the Nibs and Ink Department. And it ran clean as a whistle. You couldn’t sneak an inkpot past me, no sir! Well one day, a couple of fellas decided that I’d be president some day and their days of pilfering the supply rooms would be over. So they organized a coup. Came up with some absurd concept of Core Leave to get me out of the office. When I came back, there wasn’t a single quill in sight. No more inkwells. All using some newfangled plastic pens. The whole department got closed and I’ve been the President of the Pristine Potty ever since.” He began laughing at this joke and coughing so intensely that further questioning was impossible. This reporter fears the worst before departing: that he too will come back to find his publication changed forever.

2) The word of the day is “Opsimath” which means a person who begins to learn or study late in life. For example: “The hunched and much-aged Johann Franz often frequented the Math Club meetings. No matter how much he claimed to be an opsimath, the fact that he only showed up for the last five minutes of meetings was a clear indicator that he came only for the sandwiches with spicy mustard which were served at the end of every session.

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Unseasonably warm weather we’re having,

The bright light of Monday has passed,

The [Name Censored]Report Efficiency embodied.

1)  Many of our readers based in New York City and even those from far-off lands are familiar with the subway that snakes its way underneath this fair town. For some, no day is truly complete until the contortionist act that is known as the rush hour commute has been achieved. Many may not even be able to sleep at night until they have stood for at least 15 minutes in forced intimacy with absolute strangers. However, this reporter sees none of the physical stresses but only the mental and emotional ones. In fact, our subway is haunted by the specter of class struggle that poisons relations among human beings.

This struggle is nothing new. It is simply the natural result of the passions of haves and have-nots. Namely, having a seat or not having. The transformation from peasant to patrician is instantaneous. As soon as an individual snags a seat, they change; their facial expression eases-wrinkles and frowns disappear-into a placid and slightly judgmental expression of the inferiority of all those left standing. The aristocrats of the train cease to make eye contact with all those standing because they fear sowing the seats of revolution. Or, perhaps they fear meeting the gaze of an elderly and disabled pregnant war veteran and having to deal with their conscience.

Nevertheless, the suffering of the standing poor is lost on the oligarchs of the plastic subway chair. The announcements about standing clear of closing doors and keeping body parts out of the way of these closing-door-guillotines do not carry to the rarefied atmosphere of the seated class.

But the struggle persists! This reporter heard all sorts of griping about the fact that “by the time gets to this station there are never any seats,” and even such obscenities as, “oh heck no! I know that that young lady did not just take this seat as I was turning around to position myself to sit in it!”

Although the nobility of the brightly colored seat is blissfully oblivious to the burgeoning revolution, it will not be long before the masses become aware of the metro-injustice and hurl themselves over the barricades to throw down the—-

[This story was prematurely concluded because the author saw a seat open up and rushed to take it, battering an older gentleman with his briefcase to plant his bottom there before anyone else]

2) The word of the day is “Vivisection,” which means ruthlessly sharp and detailed analysis or criticism. For example: “Victor’s vivisection of Vivian’s violently violet veil was very virtuous. ‘Villain I’d be,’ he vented vehemently, ‘to vouchsafe her vacating this vehicle wearing that vulgar vestment.’ ‘Viper!’ she cried vapidly to his valiant visage.”

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Happy Thanksgiving, Hanukah, et al.

Prepare for holiday cheer

The [Name Censored]Report Magnanimous magic.

1)  “It is important for us all to be thankful,” repeated Guy Softcake, the head of the Weights and Measures Department, for the fifth time today. “Be thankful and remember the first Thanksgiving,” he continued his well-trod and familiar words, “the first Thanksgiving which took place at least four-score years ago and was surely held on the occasion of the conclusion of some large project which involved several teams and multiple budgetary meetings.” The well-regarded Guy continued with his speech, oblivious to the protestations of his colleagues. He refused to hear about pilgrims or natives, instead preferring his own narrative: “…and at that Thanksgiving feast, it is absolutely the case that through the rocket’s red glare those brave souls were able to call up the Alamo restaurant and order several dishes of Turkey product with instant mashed potatoes with real Gravy flavored condiment sauce.”

These words naturally upset several history buffs who were forced to participate in the hearing of the Head of the Department’s incessantly repeated declarations of good will. They began to squirm with particular anxiety at the beginning of the next portion which was, by now, well known to all present. “Do not forget, dear friends- especially those of you who observe- that the day will be a dual hatted one just like many of you who have to fulfill multiple roles within our department. This day is also the start of Hanukah: a fantastic celebration with a storied history. Now, but I believe that the story revolves around a miracle not unlike the one we experienced last week. If you recall, it was wholeheartedly believed that we had enough toner only for one print job. But then we shook and shook and beseeched and we had enough for 8 print jobs! And it was good.

Several people left the room at this point and Mr. Softcake was forced to concede that he may have gotten some of the details of that particular discussion wrong. “Well ladies and gentlemen, I have nothing more to say except that you should have a great holiday and enjoy yourselves just as they did on the second Thanksgiving which took place on the day that Lyndon Johnson became the first president of the United States upon the signing of the Magna Carta! And for this great occasion, the ceremonial menorah candles were lit!”

Upon the conclusion of this speech, Guy Softcake, the head of the Weights and Measures Department realized that although he was brilliant with the data sheet and master of management, his grasp of history was quite poor.

2) The word of the day is “antidisestablishmentarianism” which refers to a political position started in 19th century Britain which opposed disestablishment. For example: “’I know quite a long word,’ said S. looking at G. with her half-closed eyes which told of mystery and adventure. ‘Oh yeah? And what is it? Antidisestablishmentarianism?’ guffawed G. ‘I was going to say floccinaucinihilipilification…’”

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Happy almost weekend team,

Well, if you ask me, it’s about time!

The [Name Censored]Report Laws of letters.

1)  After the entire staff of this publication was struck down by the plague of modern society: the flu, we are back in action.

Almost too much has transpired in recent days. One of the hot stories coming in from the teletype is the controversial Stop and Frisk program currently in place in New York City. There have been several studies showing that police stopping random people on the street and searching them has led to discriminatory practices. The NYPD’s stance is that only ‘suspicious’ characters are stopped and frisked. Our reporters investigated and discovered that the issue goes far above the head of Police Commissioner Raymond Kelly. In fact, according to indisputable sources, the mastermind behind stop and frisk is fashion leader and CEO of Abercrombie and Fitch. “You see,” he has been recorded saying in secret meetings with the leaders of Banana Republic and, oddly, Limited Too (a tween clothing brand), “I do not sell clothes, but a lifestyle and not just a lifestyle! But armor against the unpleasantries of life…” In response to widespread confusion, he reiterated: “Ok, here’s the deal I made an agreement with Ray Kelly that anyone who’s wearing Abercrombie and Fitch is not allowed to be stopped and frisked. But people who wear other brands are ‘suspicious’; if you want in on the deal, talk to me.” Cautious murmurs could be heard throughout the room with promises of people getting in touch with other people in the near future, with a chance of doing lunch. As always we keep our readers’ best interests at heart and remind them to dress appropriately in these turbulent times. As the list of clothing brands which prevent one from being unpleasantly stopped and frisked grows, we will continue our coverage.

In other news: “that’s what I call Business Transformation!” one person (just one) was heard saying earlier today. What could have caused this outburst? Several members of the GDP program returned to work from a volunteering project held this morning. Entering dressed in the height of street fashion, the disappeared into restrooms only to emerge clothed as proper ladies and gentlemen mere minutes later. Several instances of having to “yuck, stand on the floor” were recorded.

Finally, we would like to remind our readers that horseplay in the corridors is strictly frowned upon unless done very tastefully and with tact.

Finally, but no, really, finally, the Gossip column: Two Fridays ago, one unnamed but very highly placed executive was spotted carrying to his desk a small paper bag emblazoned with the unmistakable seal of the golden arches. Although there is nothing amusing in this story, this reporter could not stop giggling at the thought of that proper and refined gentleman being forced to stand in line with all the riffraff which is known to populate the particular eatery in question.

2) The word of the day is “gallivant” which means to jaunt or carouse. For example: “‘I don’t understand what it means to gallivant,’ complained Algernon bitterly. ‘Oh you know, it’s sort of like sortie-ing or sallying forth,’ responded Bunbury. ‘OOOOOOOoooh, I see!’ exclaimed Algernon with delight, ‘kind of like gadding about…’”

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Hello dear readers,

Continuing to break boundaries

The [Name Censored]Report Brilliant banter.

1) This week was full of so many newsworthy events that this publication just had difficulties keeping up. Most newspapers pride themselves on reporting what is happening in the world; however as you all know, this newspaper prides itself on reporting on things that didn’t happen. Unfortunately, so many newsworthy events were happening and so few not happening that we had difficulty finding what to write about. Nonetheless, as did Napoleon at Waterloo, we capitulated and decided to share some real goings-on.

Space has often been described in science fiction shows as the final frontier. This is not just true of human exploration but of human capitalization. Space is, in fact, a vast untapped marketplace waiting to be exploited. For this reason, lady Gaga has already announced her intentions to perform a musical piece aboard a one of Virgin Galactic’s suborbital space vehicles. Naturally, her entire entourage will be present as well. Many of you must be wondering exactly what kind of wacky demands the diva must be cooking up, but she is too busy preparing her vocal chords for the unfamiliar atmosphere of nearly-outer-space.

Of course, nothing is a trend until it has followers and upon hearing of Ms. Gaga’s intentions, several artists reportedly said: “ooooooooooh, that like sounds sooooooo cool, I mean really like cool.” These include Katy Perry and The-Artist-Now-Known-As-Brazilian-John*.

None of this information could possibly have been reported if it wasn’t for the wonderful world of Twitter. And this reporter would be remiss not to mention that the company had an IPO this past Thursday. The infant stock skyrocketed in value past its initial price ($26/share) and now remains in stable condition at a cool 41.63 per share. Although when posting on Twitter, number of characters is limited to 140, the company’s growth has none.

The Weather Report: A heated Mayoral race has caused higher than usual temperatures in the New York City area. Political Meteorologists predicted it all along.

*Who is Brazilian John? The answer is 12 letters long; spaces do not count as letters. Submit responses if you think you know the answer.

2) Today’s word of the day comes from the [Name Censored]Slang Dictionary (2011); it is “Gerund” which means the form of a verb functioning as a known (verb ending in –ing). In formal use, it applies to words; in the slang it can apply to people. For example: “That guy’s such a gerund, he’s always in the process of doing things, but he never finishes anything!”

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Thank you to all the Veterans who have been with us from Folio I

There are 25 issues in a folio and 4 folios in a volume

The [Name Censored]Report Folio III Issue 1

1) All Mondays usually involve a sensation of disorientation. The warm and comfortable embraces of the weekend suddenly yield to the harsh realities of a cold morning commute and the unforgiving illumination of fluorescent lighting. However, today it seemed as though the world had truly flipped upside down for Gregor Sams, an analyst with the Department of Meticulous Figures. “First, some prankster caused my computer screen to appear upside down, and I had to spend an hour on the internets forums trying to figure out how to flip it back. I have the worst pain in my neck from trying to read these tech help sites upside down!” An investigation by The [Name Censored]Report concluded that young Gregor was not the victim of shenanigans, but self-deception. He had inadvertently pressed the CTRL + Alt keys and the Down Arrow key at the same time on his Windows 7 PC and the whole thing flipped upside down.

However, the true cause of Mr. Sams’s dismay would be the meeting he was attending this morning. He had spent his weekend polishing up on all the contractions that make life easy within the organization. There were quite a few acronyms of which he was unsure, but not wanting to bother any coworkers on the weekend, he simply looked up the meanings online. He breezed into his seat at the large conference table carrying with him the cool air of a person who found a trick in Excel that can automatically perform a project which was supposed to take a week. The meeting began without a hitch and when it was his turn, he was able to state his name and department without the slightest pause of hesitation. Then, the devil came out of the details.

“Alright so I think that it would be useful if we reviewed a couple of these BRDs…” began the first presenter, and Gregor was unsure exactly how they would review the exciting events of the both the Belfast Roller Derby and the Bristol Roller Derby and found to his slight unease that instead of a roster of current and former derbiers a rather dense and technical document was distributed. His nervousness began to grow when he was asked for his opinions on the latest GSP figures. “Well, would you like to know the numbers of hooligans apprehended or…? He trailed off as fear began to grip him. The quizzical looks shooting in his direction made it appear as though the question was not concerning the Gibraltar Services Police. “Perhaps, I started off on the wrong note, in reality Georges St-Pierre hasn’t competed in at least a year…” eyebrows began to raise as he discussed the famous Canadian mixed martial artist and Gregor soon realized that this too was not the right reference for this conversation.  He then noncommittally grunted to indicate that the figures were fine and the tension immediately dispersed as his reply was dutifully recorded in the minutes.

“I didn’t know how much longer the charade could go on,” explained Gregor Sams in a post-meeting interview. I was absolutely lost; I had learned all the wrong acronyms!” he wailed as tears began to form in his eyes- no doubt brought on with the replaying of the memory.

“They just kept saying these words: ‘DCF, HOV, ATM,BRB, LOL…’ and I’m just thinking Department of Children & Families? Haunch Of Venison? Atomically Tempered Manager? Barn Raised Bull?” he was absolutely at a loss for words at this junction. However, this reporter would not leave such a troubled soul in need and after lending the miserable Gregor a handkerchief and suffering through a trumpet blast of nose blowing, the story continued. “Then, I hear them mention HSBC and I was losing it, man, I just jumped up and by this point everyone knew I wasn’t right- perception is reality you know. I jumped up and I screamed ‘that one I know what that one means! HongkongShanghaiBankingCo….’” He let out a mirthless laugh, “and then they all looked at me like that again- this wide eyed stare that just made me feel more existentially alienated than Mersault…and Bill from the Ink Department just pats me on the back and says really calmly, ‘Gregor, that acronym doesn’t mean anything anymore, it’s just letters- they don’t stand for anything.’ Well I just ran out of the room and have been hiding in this broom closet since.”

Now what happened next is a series of events which may be categorized as Gonzo Journalism – not strictly within ethical limits. This reporter grabbed Gregor’s arm, set him on his feet and marched with him into the conference room. A hush fell as soon as we entered: a reporter and an analyst on the last brinks of sanity. “TMWFIDPTBOATSW!”* the reporter roared. “YSBAOY,IEMFTM,DAOYEKWAGSRSF?”**No one raised their hand to answer the question and Gregor began to smile,”BG,ISYATNMAIWDBRTSYL!” he whooped with glee. The course was broken and Gregor Sam’s day was back to normal.

“WWTTW?”**** said Bill from the Ink Department as the unlikely duo exited.

*“This man was found in deep psychological trauma because of all these shortened words”

**“You should be ashamed of yourselves, I expected more from these meetings, do any of you even know what a GSR stands for?”

***“Bye guys, I’ll see you at the next meeting and I will definitely be ready to speak your language!”

****”What’s with those weirdoes?”

2) the word of the day is “denouement” which means the resolution or final part of a story or a complicated sequence of occurences; pronounced, it rhymes with currant. For example: After a night of unimaginable revelry, Barnabus Brinkstable suddenly announced ‘it’s time for the anticlimactic denouement!’ and fell asleep leaning against a tree.”

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Prepare to be so productive it’s scary,

The great spirit of Halloween is nigh

The [Name Censored] Report Morbid and moribund. 

1) The great media institutions have taught us that there is always something newsworthy going on; and if there is nothing newsworthy going on, that means you are not investigating enough. Our long held traditions of avoiding saying anything that isn’t not true combined with that reverence for our colleagues ensures that this will be a captivating story.

Today, it became official that Halloween will indeed be celebrated in the halls of our company. Based on informal but extensive polling, it seems as though most people will be dressing up for the holiday. A few members of the Spreadsheet Department have sworn that they will dress up like the people in the Balance Sheet Team. Those wizards of accounting will, in turn, be dressing up like the folks in the Business Replication department. What does all this mean? Of course, be prepared for frightful and strange sights! The man from the Permissible and Aboveboard Practices Department who always wears a conservative necktie might be sporting the wild pastel shirts so typical of the members of the Money Counting Bureau; his tie might even have one or more silly characters dancing on it. Meanwhile, his counterparts will look surreal and odd wearing a simple starched white shirt. The grotesque atmosphere will continue and those people working in the Excessive Thinking Division may come dressed with out-of-character tie bars and cuff-links, so reminiscent of those elite inhabitants of the Final Decision Floor… there has even been talk of applying a reckless amount of hair pomade- although, so far, it is only talk.

As this reporter’s journey of research continued, it was discovered that, despite the seeming shamelessness of how far individuals would go to transform into unrecognizable creatures this Halloween, certain moral and ethical norms would, nonetheless, continue to be observed. One suggestion which garnered a round of frowns was Cyrus Wonderbred’s suggestion that he would be dressing up like the skeletons in his boss’s closet. Immediately following his rash announcement in a woefully public area, several people were forced to leave the premises to display their displeasure. Luckily, Cyrus came around and announced that he would actually be dressing as himself in the past and would be wearing today’s clothes tomorrow. Several enthusiastic hoots from passersby confirmed the creative cleverness of his idea.

We look forward to seeing everyone in their fanciful dress tomorrow and would like to remind everyone that any candy that is found in the restrooms should not be eaten.

2) The word of the day is “Firman” which means a royal decree or mandate issued by a sovereign in certain historical states. For example: “A firm man’s firman will stand firm many years, but it is only as firm as the man or woman who issues the firman.”

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Good day to old and new readers alike,

Fear nothing. Seize it all. Scale a wall.

The [Name Censored] Report Laconic. 

1) “Doesn’t this Tuesday feel just like a Thursday?” Pretentia asked innocently. “Oh StoooOOooOooP!” replied Franz with his characteristic dramatic excesses, “that’s just the same nonsense as when you asked me if I thought that Columbus day felt like Martin Luther King, jr. Day and Martin Luther King, jr. Day felt like Boxing Day.” Pretentia was rebuked for half a moment and quickly retaliated, “maybe that’s true but nothing feels like Halloween except Halloween you know…”she let the sentence trail with a mysterious ellipsis.

Franz shivered slightly with uneasiness and revulsion. He knew that Pretentia was just trying to terrify the deepest parts of his subconscious and he was determined not to let her. “It’s not mysterious. Why,” he began to dismissively, “it’s because everyone makes Halloween so ooOOoooOoooOooobvious. Children panhandling for sweets like in the gypsy villages of my youth, displaying all sorts of…” after a brief wrestling match with the difficult English word, “…grotesque!” he finally announced triumphantly: “all sorts of grotesque morbidities.” Of course, Pretentia knew that Franz was only so sore about the holiday because of deep emotional scars left by mistaken cultural references. When Franz had arrived to the United States six years ago, friendless, he was forced to create his own justification to explain the fact that the occupants of several houses on his block—judging by the fact that they had what appeared to be gravestones in their front yards- buried their dead right at home, and in the garden— no less! Why else would people have tombstones on their lawn? Franz was immediately sickened and spent a turbulent night feeling feverish due to the great convergence of necromancers that he believed to be populating his neighborhood.

Since then, he would always feel a slight twinge of pain in his psyche whenever Halloween was brought up, much like the winner of a multi-million dollar lawsuit may feel a slight pinch as the medical utensil left inside his body shifts until it finds a new and comfortable place to settle for a few months or years.

“Will you stop being such a lead weight and dress up this year, it would be so droll!” exclaimed Pretentia trying to get Franz out of his mood. “What would I dress up as? I would look like a perfect fool,” cried Franz, “there’s nothing more absurd than a grown man walking around dressed like a child on Wunderskindjanderghurshinacht,” said Franz, making use of what seemed to Pretentia to be an inexhaustible list of obscurities. “Well, I’m going to get dressed like Edgar Allen Poe and have a séance and that’s that,” finally announced Pretentia. Franz was put off by her brusque manner, but then realized that perhaps there might be something curious to learn in all of this.

And so, she dressed like Mr. Poe and he, like a large black bird, were last seen walking in the direction of the setting sun on the eve of Halloween….and they were never heard from ever again.

2) The word of the day is “Barbarian” which means one who is perceived to be uncivilized by a civilized observer. For example: “‘My dear Admiral Baffleboat, do you know why the ancient Greeks called people barbarians?”I haven’t a clue, Corporal Rumplesworth,’ was the curt reply. ‘Well, it is quite because to their delicate ears, all those who did not speak their melodic language sounded like they were simply saying ‘bar-bar-bar-bar-bar.”Hrumph,’ said the Admiral.”

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Happy cold Autumn days team,

Fall into freshness

The [Name Censored] Report Brisk and brusque. 

1) Today’s story follows the news that all international outlets have taking up giant portions of the front page. Of course, US sources understandably have the story relegated to somewhere by the bottom with a small link leading to the story, some even required extensive searching to read the account. But this publication has never shied away from delivering the tough news from an obscure angle so now it’s time for the inaugural edition of If Geopolitics Were A TV SHOW or IGWATVS for short.

Today, Angela Merkel, Chancellor of Germany was just hanging out, gabbing with her girlfriends on the phone, as per us-(pronounced as the first half of the word Usual). “You know what Angela?” said Francois Hollande in his adorable French accent while sitting on the Rive Gauche with a cup of café au lait and a crisp baguette, toying with his beret, “What?” she responded in her coquettish German  spiel, her ears almost perceptibly perking at the promise of a delightful secret. “I was hanging out with Barack [Obama], the other day and we were just grabbing a drink you know?” Francois began. “Oooh hahaha do I ever? He always insists that I take just one more than I need…that’s how we all ended up at that Clown Rodeo at 3 AM last Saturday. I was falling asleep all over that budget hearing for the European Union.” She recounted more details of the clown rodeo night until Francois hastily interrupted her. “Listen,” he said with sudden urgency. “While we were sitting there just talking about the latest Dos and Don’ts for G20 summits…” he was interrupted again by Angela, “oooooh I know!!! Do you remember those horrid green socks that fellow from Brazil wore? I couldn’t stop laughing for a second!” She went off again. “Angela! Listen,” commanded Francois sternly. She realized with a sudden sense of icy foreboding that this wasn’t Francois’s usual chatty demeanor during their almost daily phone calls. They talked about all sorts of things and he had even helped her get through a traumatic experience with a stray body hair that made her feel repulsive; it had sprouted on her right shoulder and abhorrent as it was, she couldn’t bring herself to remove it. It was Francois, dear Francois- faithful friend and confidant- who had stayed on the phone with her for hours while she wept bitterly and finally removed the despicable thing with a pair of stainless steel tweezers. She had sworn him to secrecy about that moment, irrefutably one of the lowest in her life. Her giggling stopped, “What is it? Tell me now, Hollande,” she uttered and steeled herself for the worst.

“Well, we were sitting and talking and I went up to go to the restroom. When I came back, I noticed that my phone was on the bar in a slightly different position than how I left it. I didn’t think of it, but then when I got home, I opened my texts and they were open to a text from weeks ago as if someone had scrolled through and was reading them. It could only have been him.” Francois stopped glumly. “Oh schnitzel,” sighed Merkel quietly into the phone, “he must know everything, I always find my phone is a little strange after I hang out with him…” There was a long silence and some rustling noise, “Francois! That villain! He installed an app on my phone that records phone calls and sends them to an email address, the email address is Barack.Obama@WhiteHouse.UnitedStates. Official.Presidential.Email, do you think it’s him?” she cried not wanting to believe her eyes. I’m going to set this straight,” she said hysterically. “Mon dieu! He’ll know I told you. Don’t do anything hasty!” advised Hollande.

“Yello? Hey, Angela what a lovely surprise, how’s that stray hair doing? I mean how’s everything going,” began Obama with his smooth, polished cadence.

“Barry, you have listened to my private conversations and read Francois’s text messages.” Don’t try to deny it.

“No way. No wayyy. Noooooo way. Nooooo wayyyy. No way. Noo wayy. Nooooooo wayyyyyyyy. No Way. NO way. No WAY. No way. No way.

“Tell me the truth. Please I can’t take it,” she began to sob quietly into the phone.

Obama became uneasy at the sound of her despair, “Angie, darling come on. Would I do that? I am not reading either of your texts right now, by that I mean at this very moment and I would definitely never read them or listen to your private calls ever in the future from this time right now.” He casually spoke, not mentioning any potential past activities. However, Angela would not be calmed. “Listen to me! I don’t know if I can ever trust you again, I don’t think I can continue with that trade agreement.”

“Oh yeah?” began Barack with an uncharacteristic snarl, “Well if you don’t sign that trade agreement, everyone in the world is going to see that hideous black hair that was growing on your right shoulder. Don’t think I didn’t send that little number to my phone when I was going through Hollande’s texts…So you better think twice before you go around making any rash decisions….”


2) The word of the day is “Finifugal” which means afraid or disinclined to finish anything. For example: “Did you ever hear finifugal Lord Briarbottom’s poem? No? It’s: ‘Harken lads, let me tell ye a tale of mythical lands and.'”

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Hello to all the world!

Welcome back team

The [Name Censored] Report Imminent and idyllic.

1) Although it has been discovered that during its weeklong absence (a furlough which was undertaken as a show of solidarity with the U.S. Government), the [Name Censored] Report was not missed by anyone, we continue to deliver our award winning coverage.

During the week, this organization has been busy fabricating prestige to add to the sense of satisfaction our readers experience in sending it to the trash. For example, some our reporters on the International Cinema Desk reportedly attended Russian Film Week in New York City using credentials bearing this hallowed institution’s name. Despite the fact that the provincials at the door of the venue had never heard of this heralded gazette, they were dazzled by the words “Official” and “Press Pass” printed on the sides of the document in colorful deskjet printer ink. As a result, the movie Intimate Parts received a 5 star rating from our in-house critic who predicted that it is this film that “will be responsible for destroying authoritarianism in Russia”. Although the film’s title is suggestive, all scenes are artistic and, therefore, decidedly not obscene. The 10 word summary is: Multiple lives intersect in satirically comic but simultaneously tragic moments.

In other news, there has been a great deal of gossip in the corridors about the sudden yet brief disappearance of a large contingent of employees. We would like to lay these rumors to rest and report that they were all found briefly transported to Buffalo for several days to attend an offsite event. However, it is undeniable that the details of how they got there remain shrouded in mystery…

Finally, because the previous stories are strangely deviating from our traditional reporting in that they are both true, we must give you a bit of the usual programming. It has come to our attention that many people are complaining about awkwardness and lack of recreational activity during elevator rides. A circular was recently published with suggestions for healthy ways of meeting ones fellow employees and interacting with them to create an enjoyable elevator riding experience. For all those that didn’t receive this important document selections are published below:

The game of Corners is a fantastic way to drive innovation, mental exercise, good old fashioned fun during the typically, unproductive moments spent in an elevator. Silence often reigns as unfamiliar co-workers avoid each other as if afraid to violate some sort of personal space. However, an investigation by the HR Department revealed that the words “Personal Space” do not appear in any important documents; conclusively, it is most certain that such a thing does not exist. The game of corners is played with five or more individuals and one elevator. One particularly rowdy person must shout the word: “CORNERS!” and the game is on. Everyone must attempt to get into one of the corners. The unlucky wretch or wretches in the middle is/are pummeled by those in the corners until he or she can force someone out and take a corner position. Anyone not in a corner can be pummeled freely and the mirth can go on indefinitely or until people reach their floors.

Thank you for joining us for another day!

2) The word of the day is “Erinaceous” which means of, pertaining to, or resembling a hedgehog. For example: “Felix Fiddlesticks always wondered what it was that caused the young lady he was quite seriously courting to throw a glass of water in his face after he, delighted to discover her name was Erin, called her erinaceous. Then again, he knew many words but none of their meanings.”

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Good [time of day] team,

The reflective issue

The [Name Censored] Report Better Grey Words with Crimson Examples Than Crimson Words with Grey Examples

1) According to the indisputable pages of Wikipedia, “The Nobel Prize in Literature has been awarded annually to an author of any country who has, in the words of the will of Alfred Nobel, produced ‘in the field of literature the most outstanding work in an ideal direction’” One problematic element is the translation of the word ideal from the original Swedish; its meaning is accepted to be either ideal or idealistic. Traditionally, some writers have not been chosen because their work was ideal but not idealistic and, “…in recent years, this means a kind of idealism championing human rights on a broad scale. Hence the award is now arguably more political.”

Of course, our readers have sent in complaints by the hundreds at the fact that this publication has, as yet, received no international recognition. But we urge everyone to remain calm. It is obvious that some sort of chicanery is at the heart of the matter. After all, which self-respecting literary critic could have overlooked some of the stories, idealistic to the extreme, that have appeared within this folio alone? Was the narrative of the celebrities who find sublime pleasure in the exploits of the unsung heroes of the office not uplifting to the collective human spirit? Or the four-part installment on the dangers of relinquishing that which matters most for material gain- some commentators have said that the tale was “among the best examples of the [worst] kind of writing and should not be[read by] anyone.” It is clear that the story alone could secure the prize simply for having such a powerful effect on its readers that, perhaps it should be hidden away so as to prevent anyone from going mad at learning so many terrible secrets. And finally, all of that could be allowed if the call for gender equality in issue 2.12 had not been so callously ignored. Idealistic? Of course! Championing human rights? You got it! Fashionably political? Present!

It’s quite alright though. In joining, the ranks of the Nobel Prize winners, one does join an elitist group. But joining the ranks of those passed up for one is sweeter nectar to savor. The staff of this report will now adjourn for the day to have a séance with Tolstoy, Joyce and Chekhov to have a bit of a griping session…Those guys know a thing or two about being unlauded for literary achievement.

2) The word of the day is “Repartee” which means speech characterized by quick witty remarks. For example: “‘Oh how I do love those Gilmore Girls!” Announced Admiral Walrus twisting his giant moustache with glee,‘their repartee is just a pleasure to behold.'”

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Hello dear team,

New discoveries abound

The [Name Censored] Report Prim and Proper.

1) It’s that time of year again!  As the Fashion Weeks in New York, Paris, and Milan are becoming a distant memory in our collective conscious, a new and exciting season possesses our curiosity. This is, of course, the culmination of the latest trends and fads in the Arts and Sciences as recognized by a small group of authoritarians. While the winners for literature, economics, peace, and chemistry prizes have not yet been announced we do have our winners in medicine (for uncovering the mechanisms of transport systems within our cells) and in physics (for the theoretical explanation of how sub-atomic particles attain original mass).

These are very exciting in some circles but the truth is there are some much more practical discoveries that will probably never see the warm glow of the spotlights of the Nobel Committee. For example, Professor Frobocksit will not be congratulated this year for discovering the extremely time saving property of pressing the CTRL, SHIFT and L keys simultaneously to engage the filter function on an excel spreadsheet. Equally unlauded will be Mr. Tonboll, of the strange department on the fifth floor who single-handedly discovered that Compact Disks should not be placed in microwave ovens. And, it goes without saying, that Dr. Edgar, who has proven indisputably that one can eat Campbell’s® soup straight out of the can without dilution of any sort and feel perfectly fine (although he included the following footnote in his groundbreaking work: “for a duration of 30 minutes to 1 hour following ingestion, a funny feeling was felt within my tummy) has received absolutely no recognition. This list can continue even further than Edward Weirds’s seminal work on the infinite nature of additional users that can enjoy a single subscription to Netflix®. So, we will stop before digging into the list of discoveries with unprintable natures, especially unmentioned will be the Bowel Magnitude Measuring Machine invented by Cornelius Coprophilous Ph.D., especially beyond the scope of this publication is a detailed description of the sensitive scales and mechanism used to calculate these magnitudes up to one hundred thousandth of a percent accuracy.

2) The word of the day is “abecedism” which means creating a word from the initials of words in a phrase. For example: “Abecedism By Erudite Curious Enthusiasts Divines Interesting Semantic Meta-meanings.”

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Happy Fall to all,

Turning over new leaves

The [Name Censored] Report. Cited, sighted, and slighted.

1) A case for the workplace nap.

It is undeniable the people are capable of displaying behavior that is inappropriate in certain circumstance. Guffawing loudly in the quiet reading section of the library may draw several hateful stares towards oneself. The looks of anger come from that fact that the culture of the library has not evolved to the point of appreciating the mirth of others while trying to read. This is proven by the fact that people who make other noises such as ridiculously loud coughs, sneezes, or even unnecessarily loud chair creaks are largely ignored as behaving in an acceptable manner.

As taboo as exclamations in the library are signs of tiredness at work in our culture. We all have some days where we are kept up later than any decent bedding hour for myriad reasons: the cats outside are having their annual mewling competition, the emergency response vehicles are testing out their new extra loud sirens, or maybe the cool side of the pillow is nowhere to be found. The only remedy to this is, of course, making several pilgrimages to the coffee machine to stimulate artificial feelings of energy.

However, in other workplaces cultures, both abroad and around the world, taking a brief nap carries no forbidden connotations. It is perfectly acceptable to disappear for a brief visit to Sandman’s kingdom in Spain and sleep for just a jiffy in Japan. Of course, these places have their own norms surrounding such practices. For example, in Japan this nap must be taken sitting upright with the eyes tightly shut. In Spain, it is usually expected to be taken at the tail end of lunch.

The naysayers will argue that this promotes laziness and hinders workplace productivity. But, according to multiple studies a sleep deprived employee is 37% less productive than a well-rested one and is more likely to make mistakes that will take even more time to resolve later. Drinking massive amounts of coffee to both wake up initially and, then to counteract the drop of energy that follows its spike can lead to caffeine dependence and uncertain health problems. And besides, a 30 minute nap is not that much time compared to several 10-15 minute coffee breaks that the tired employee escapes on in lieu of just catching a few winks; 30 minutes is the maximum amount of time needed to restore strength without falling into a deep sleep, with actual recommended times being around 15-20 minutes to feel refreshed.

Finally, the period immediately following the process of waking up but preceding being fully awake is widely regarded as the most creatively active period in a person’s day. However, without the nap, we only get one such time period in the morning and do not get it until waking up the next day. Just imagine how incredible it would be to have two periods of intense creative energy to resolve that tough problem that nags your mind!

Our culture accepts and even praises paying ridiculous prices for caffeine injections, and even tolerates several escapes to the great outdoors for a breath of fresh cigarette smoke. Isn’t it time that the much less time-consuming and yet more productive nap be an acceptable workplace break?

2) Today’s word of the day is “Jentacular” which means of, or pertaining to breakfast. For example: “Everyone in the neighborhood always set an extra seat at their morning table just in case Jentacular James came by with his charming manners that got him in the door and his voracious appetite which ensured he wouldn’t leave until the last English muffin became a crumb under the table.”

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Grafit [Name Censored]


Good Morning to the morning readers, good evening to the evening readers,

Well done ol’ chap!

The [Name Censored] Report Pecuniary. 

1) Today’s Report is from The Future.

It was supposed to be the highest peak of the great rolling wave of the future of our organization. Brinkle Bosch, the Director of Futurization and Schmepriclation had dreamed of a grand unveiling for 2033 in the Month of Mars. “It was doomed to succeed,” he said in a recent statement, “I personally supervised every detail of the planning process. The holographic 4-Dimensional Blueprints were scrutinized at exhaustive daily meetings. We even put down a pretty sum to resurrect some great architectural minds with supercomputers to advise the construction.” Of course, he was discussing the preparations for the BlueSea Project, an all-in-one, ready to go solution to the question of the next thing in Retail Banking for the aqualent. The portmanteau term, made up of aqua and affluent, describes the well-off class of individuals who live on ocean floors. “Darling, we just do it to escape the ennui and the terrible way that the sun dries out one’s skin,” said Willinger Willingsock- an aqualent-of the latest fashion for humanity.

Due to increasingly extended deadlines, the facility was only completed a single day before it was to be opened and its protective shell was carefully removed to expose it to the waters of the Atlantic Ocean. “We had it all ready to go, the auto-auto-automatic transaction machines that had your virtual currency ready before you even stepped foot inside, the super check services, the financial advising desks were outfitted with brain chips to stream information from all the markets in the solar system in real time. It was beautiful…” sobbed, the now disgraced, Mr. Bosch. His downfall was precipitated when the BlueSea facility sprung a leak from the wall near the giant, ultra-comfortable seats in the lobby. It was a tiny leak that began as soon as the Executive Committee came for pre-opening inspection. Mr. Bosch described the feeling of seeing the tiny 2-millimeter thick jet of water as “a complete turning inside out of [his] entire existence.”

His disgrace lay in the fact that he tried to cover up the leak. While he saw it, the visiting executives did not, and he called over one of his assistants and told him to put his thumb on the leak to stop it. The flow of water stopped immediately but another equally sized stream burst forth from the floor near the Gender Flexible Lavatory. This one, Mr. Bosch rushed to plug himself only to cause an additional leak to develop in from the solar-mimicking-but-not-drying light in the ceiling. This continued until Mr. Yoxgut, the Galactic Director of Buildings, was begged to put his thumb on the most recent leak; the matter could no longer be hushed up and a stern series of questions began which resulted in Mr. Bosch’s dismissal. The hilarity of the scene of an entire army of employees holding their thumbs to various surfaces was noted and stored in the Organization’s Humor Vault. Mr. Bosch’s replacement, the venerable Vivian Vild, plugged all the leaks until the last one formed in the wall above her desk. She then placed a Thirst Plant under the leak which willingly absorbed all the water. Please visit the one-leak BluSea facility which can be reached via intra-hydroteleporter.

2) The word of the day is “Vernissage” which means an often private preview of a gallery opening in which artists put finishing touches on their paintings. The word rhymes with “Barrage”. For example: “At the vernissage of the annual exhibit of the Gallery of Vulgar Arts, Colonel Brinksman was seen appropriating some of the paint from the still-wet pieces for his moustache. He was seen leaving with a brilliantly multi-colored moustache and many of the ladies in attendance fainted when they saw him.”

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Grafit [Name Censored]

—————————————————————————————————————————– 2.17

Hello to the spectacular team,

Back after the Report Shutdown

The [Name Censored] Report Cultural Continuity.

1) Linguistic mysteries are a favorite topic of this publication as are the curiosities of comparative media. We all remember the days of tuning the television set to Mr. Cronkite’s broadcasts which were widely acclaimed for their unbiased nature: one could watch and trust the story. Today, we are burdened with greater responsibility because we have achieved greater intellectual heights. Thus, we must make observations from competing vantage points to form a complete picture of a phenomenon.

It is important to remember the lessons learned in Professor Plato’s and Professor Hegel’s classroom- the lessons of dialectic. Not all of us have kept our notebooks since those days so I will remind you that dialectic is a vehicle for arriving at a satisfactory conclusion through argumentation. Of course, you will be inclined to say, “Why, that’s the purpose of debate!” The difference, however minute, is important. You see debate is an adversarial process while the dialectical method is more cooperatively constructive. In the former system, two parties begin with opposing viewpoints and each side attempts to sway the other with rational arguments until there is a winner and the truth belongs to him or her. In the latter system, two opposing viewpoints attempt to meet in the middle by discarding the parts that have been disproved and retaining the most robust chains of reasoning. The three parts of this system are Thesis (One argument), Antithesis (The opposing argument), and Synthesis (the argument that resolves the contradictions of both).

In today’s news we can see an interesting dialectic forming and it is up to us to resolve it. There are headlines proclaiming the event of a direly named “Government Shutdown,” causing the departure of all but critical personnel from their Federal workplaces precipitated by obstinate members of the Republican Party. Other sources have found the light and breezy upside in the “Government Slimdown,” which has sent non-essential employees on vacation: inconveniently made obligatory by unyielding Democrats.  The linguistic mystery and the media comparison is that the same set of facts could be described so differently. Otherwise, the problem seems impossible.

Both sides cannot possibly have it their way, but what would happen if the opposing views on this issue were so irreconcilable that neither party could yield? Perhaps the United States would crumble so that out of the rubble one congressman, ripped suit and dusty hair, could crawl and say: “I’m right!” This is the absurdity of ideological argumentation divorced from practicality. But politics is not a purely ideological sport; in fact, it is quite practical. The individuals stalling in congress are not independent thinkers but representatives. Therefore, the synthesis is simple: The representatives may be evenly matched but the people they represent are universally unhappy with visits to great national parks being cut short and being forced to slink away from the closed doors of the Smithsonian Museum. Politicians cannot be blamed if people do not voice their displeasure with their actions. The eerie quiet in Washington seems to indicate that everyone is pretty satisfied.

2) The word of the day is “diffident” which means modest or shy due to lack of self-confidence. For example: “The diffident caterpillar spends its days munching on vegetation until it becomes the belle of the ball as a butterfly.”

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Grafit [Name Censored]


Salutations to the best team in the world,

Working hard and hardly shirking

The [Name Censored] Report Fantastically flippant.

1) **********Most of the information here is made up************

Frustrated with the poor esthetic appeal of video conferencing calls, several senior executives finally formed a coalition and decided to appropriate some funds from the Widows and Orphans fund into something much more important. “We are comfortable with hiring outside talent, in the form of consultants, to help us achieve goals for which we otherwise do not have the resources. This is standard protocol,” said one unnamed decision maker. In this case, it was not consultants from high powered names like EY or Deloitte but, rather, the Hollywood circuit.  “We simply have atrocious video conferences, sometimes people don’t know their lines, the lighting is harsh and I swear you can see the microphones on screen!” lamented another key figure with the company, “how is anyone supposed to suspend their disbelief when you can clearly see that the scene lacks verisimilitude?” Upon hearing this, an even more senior member of the organization wanted to display his sophistication by mentioning the “lack of structured and well-established mise-en-scène,” in a staged offhand manner.

Luckily, several days after the decision was made, a veteran director was invited to coordinate a few of the many video conferences that happen throughout the day. “It was abysmal,” complained Mary Contrary, the organizer of a meeting between members of her team based in different locations, “we were all called and told to be here at 6 AM for hair and makeup. When we got there, this [Expletive] guy (the director) was still setting up the lighting with a crew. And you wanna know what the best part is? The meeting was scheduled for 2 O’clock.” Apparently even with the rigorous call time, the filming only began around 3:15 and by which time all of the participants were fatigued from a long day of waiting and working on folding chairs rather than their desks. Jean-Francoise-Le-Cinema, the beret-wearing director, explained that he wanted everyone to be ready to go as soon as the scene was set.

The director called “ACTION!” And the cameras began rolling. Members of Mary’s team from all around the world began to appear on screen and someone started going over the minutes of the last meeting. Suddenly, “CUT!” The meeting ground to a halt as Jean-Francoise began to berate the cast for appearing to be overly interested in the contents of the monologue. “COME ON GUYS,” he roared with a pronounced French accent as he dished out stage direction, “THESE ARE LAST WEEK’S MINUTES, YOU WERE THERE, YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED! I NEED ENNUI! YOU! START DOODLING IN YOUR LEGAL PAD!” Everyone began to comply as the director yelled “AGAIN!” and the scene began anew. By sheer force of will, the acting was flawless. One young man exquisitely chewed on his pencil while staring into space while several of his colleagues perfected the glassy eye look using the Stanislavsky Method. Suddenly, “CUT!” Everyone looked around in bewilderment for the culprit. One of the team members in the New York Office was seen walking out of the conference room on camera. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING????” cried the director in apoplectic rage, “I TOLD YOU, YOU DON’T GO TO THE BATHROOM UNTIL SHE SAYS ‘THOSE ARE THE CONTINGENCY PLANS…’ THEN WAIT FIVE BEATS, THEN GO!” The unlucky person began to stammer an apology explaining that he really had to go, at which point the director became incredibly quiet and all the rooms connected by video attained the heavy silence of a tomb. “Get off my set,” he said, “NOW!!!!!!!!!!”

The filming finally wrapped around midnight and Jean-Francoise politely thanked everyone for their time and cooperation. The executives reviewed the film gleefully. “This was a masterpiece video conference, a chef d’oeuvre! Look at it, they’re all so natural. Those expressions, the words are flawlessly delivered and the lighting! The lighting!!!!” Several other managers agreed and decided to retain the services of the film director to the chagrin of the exhausted workers who had managed to hold only one conference call out of five scheduled for that day.

Several days later Jean-Francoise was dismissed from his post as the Artistic director of the Video Conferencing Department when he tried to direct the annual Senior Executive Reporting Meeting and they refused to have any of it. “I prefer the natural look on film anyway,” said the original proponent of the whole scheme.

2) The word of the day is “schadenfreude” which means pleasure derived from the misfortune of others. For example: “Old Biggelsby Brundsken, the miserable wretch, took his vacations when natural disasters struck the world. He would immediately travel to the scene of the tragedy and revel in schadenfreude until he was swept to sea by a tsunami.”

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Dear team,

May this day be more glorious than the last and less so than the next

The [Name Censored] Report Properly formatted.

1) “Amazing elixir!” “Utter ambrosia.” “Life-giving serum!!!” Such were the exclamations of one employee who, in the face of the hot chocolate shortage, opted to replenish his strength with a nice cup of coffee. He had never tried the beverage before and had a difficult time navigating the spaceship-like console of the automatic coffee maker. Like one of the machines in a science fiction movie, this one took a dry pellet of coarse powder and transformed it into a savory scented brown liquid. The pellet had disappeared without a trace. Observers at the scene of the incident all commented on the fact that in trying it, the caffeine neophyte spluttered embarrassingly at the hot temperature and bitter taste of the wonderful fluid. However, one kind soul suggested a packet of sugar and a few drops of milk to lighten the taste. This time he who had never known the taste of the refined coffee bean tried it and a look of understanding eased the once permanently worried look on his face. He had finally joined the tradition of the Aztec Kings.

What happened next could only be described as a frenzied blur of activity. With maniacal laughter, the recent inductee into the solemn rituals of coffee drinking took off into the hallway startling all those in the vicinity. Some witnesses described his behavior as “alarming,” and “unbecoming of a gentleman.” However, the manager of the employee in question [whose name remains a company secret] had only positive things to say. “Well, he was acting a bit loony and I did see him bouncing off the walls-literally he would run into them and bounce off- but overall, he completed about three times the number of tasks he does in a normal day.”

After a few hours, the young man, who had earlier in the day discovered the bliss of caffeine in the bloodstream, was found in a dark room suffering the misery of Icarus (one can only fly so close to the Sun before falling to the ground). Luckily this meant he was sitting still enough to be caught by our reporter. “Woe is me!” he groaned. “I wish I had never taken that poison. I will never be happy again.” When asked what he thought of the fact that the substance was easily available and its consumption a social norm, he replied: “It’s just a massive conspiracy by The Overlords to keep us all hyped up and productive. Then, once our energy runs out, they let us crash and recover just to do it all the next day.” He then began pontificating about the falsity of moon landings and fluorine in the water supply before dissolving into tears. The interview was wisely concluded before it got even more out of hand and the young man is reported to be in stable condition.

2) The word of the day is “Illation” which means performing the task of inferring or drawing a conclusion. For example: ” ‘Hrmmmmm, yes, yes yes,’ said the wise Professor Frobocksit, ‘If one shambrook is a winklebotttom, and the infibund is in its fifth house, then, with a simple illation I can say with certainty that it’s time for us to have our toasties. ‘Hrrrmmm, quite right,’ agreed the very learned Professor Bromide.”

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Grafit [Name Censored]


Greetings team,

All the news that fits in model office. Again.

The [Name Censored] Report Staying savvy.  

1) Recent-and highly reliable data- gathered by our extremely advanced information tracking software has determined that there is/are at least one (1) reader(s) of this Report. As an update for our dear reader(s), the press office has moved back to its Manhattan headquarters after the recent stint in the backwoods of Brooklyn.

Mayhem was the order of the day. Well before one entered the office, screams of anger and groans of deprivation could be heard eerily coming from behind heavy doors. As in a zombie apocalypse or nuclear fallout, the signs of damage increased dramatically as proximity to the epicenter increased. Bodies writhed on the floor and grasped the air with outstretched hands saying senseless things: “Too many mmmm mmmm mmaaarmmm…shhhh,” uttered one formerly upstanding employee who was now clutching an open bag of marshmallows while curled up in fetal position on the ground, oblivious to his surroundings. The fluffy white cylindrical delicacies were strewn everywhere. Another employee, once recognized for outstanding leadership, was now engaged in senselessly dismantling the kitchenette area repeating the words, “Where is it? It’s here. I know it’s here. We need it.  Where is it? It’s here. I know it’s here….” in a low and earnest tone. Fluorescent bulbs flickered and buzzed overhead as the man seriously removed the ceiling tiles in his desperate search. Any keen observer of human behavior would instantly be able to identify the depraved behavior described as the wicked consequences of Hot Chocolate withdrawal.

Deep inside the inner sanctum of the office, only one tiny room remained occupied by a sensible human being. The last sane worker had this to say: “The problem was, as always, one of human folly. The sweltering months of the recently past summer seemed endless. The halcyon days promised to stretch into a permanent state of warm bliss energized by the rays of the life-giving Sun. And then they were gone. The chill of fall fell upon us practically overnight. I mean literally overnight. We all came into the office shivering, barely having escaped the brisk morning temperatures. Everyone queued up in the kitchenette ready to grab a cup of hot chocolate to ward off the cold and begin the work day. We had marshmallows, milk, and hot water; just grab a packet of the powdered chocolate. It wasn’t with the packets of Guatemala Ultra-Blend Coffee, nor was it next to the Chestershire Tea packets. Surely it was just in the cupboard then? Right? Right?! Wrong…” At this point, she became inconsolably somber and had to be encouraged to continue. “It became madness in an instant. People started ranting and raving, there was turmoil! I fled to my desk and found the last packet of Swiss Miss-it must have fallen there years ago. I couldn’t do anything. There wouldn’t be enough for everyone. I was selfish. I just mixed the powder with water from the water fountain; there wasn’t time for anything fancy. Anyways, I’m a ticking alarm clock. Everything is quiet with me right now, but in a few hours I will succumb and be out there writhing on the ground mumbling about stirring straws and hot milk,” she said with resigned prescience. I did this so that someone like you would find me. Find me and tell the story of what happened here.” This reporter gave his word.

The [Name Censored] Report would like to remind all readers to stock up on Hot Chocolate in preparation for the coming months.

2) The word of the day is “Saturnine” which means slow and gloomy when referring to a person or their demeanor. For example: “Mr. Molasses, the teacher of Miserable History 101 was never anything but saturnine during class hours.”

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The very best regards,

Grafit [Name Censored]


Good day team,

An inaugural column

The [Name Censored] Report Thrift and grift. 

1) There are always murmurs, complaints, and groans like those of a creaky wooden ship about how supposedly expensive New York City is. “The rent is out of control!” is a cliché and “lunch costs a billion dollars,” is a hyperbole that’s more overused than a train-related excuse for lateness. As our friends the Ancient Greeks know, myths can become realities if they are repeated often enough. Well it’s all over folks, it’s time to pull a Total Descartes, dispel our archaic notions and recreate our understanding based on realities instead of tired expressions.

“The best things in life are free,” is an oft-heard platitude. How absurd! Everyone knows that there aren’t any free things and even if there were, how could they be any good? This publication would like to offer a dissenting mantra more appropriate for the post-modern age: “The best things in life are cheap.” It makes perfect sense whether you’re a Marxist or a Keynesian, after all the economic concept of consumer surplus exists outside of any dogma or system of belief. For all those who cut class that day, Consumer Surplus or Marshallian surplus is the monetary gain obtained by consumers when they are able to purchase a product for less than the maximum price they would be willing to pay. If any city is perfect for finding experiences that are way more valuable than their list price, it’s this one. For this reason, today’s topic will be the start of a, hopefully recurring, column that will be called “NYC High Roller on One Dollar” (please pronounce it in whatever way you can to make it rhyme), or NYCHROD for short.

Today’s NYCHROD entry will be about bagpipes. After all, who hasn’t been carried away to ethereal, spiritual realms by the transcendent wheeze of the bagpipes? Although the musical instrument has been around since the time of the ancient Hittites some 3000 years ago, the equipment is still pricey so it can be difficult to get a good performance.

These days, one can only hear a decent piping at somber events such as funerals or at ephemeral events such as parades. Well, if you ever wanted to get your very own private bagpipe performance without having to lose a close friend or battling the crowds on a civic holiday, this hot tip is for you. Be sure to have your dollar handy and head over to the westernmost tip of the Grand Central Terminal on 42nd street a few minutes before midnight. (Editor’s note: please observe that the location is Grand Central Terminal- where the trains are, and not the oft-used misnomer, Grand Central Station- where the letters are).

If you are not sure where to go, follow your ears. You will see a man in a Balmoral bonnet and he will not have many dollars in his case because he plays for love of the instrument and not for monetary gain. However, he will be happy to receive your crisp George Washington and beckon you to attend to his performance. If you are worthy and can weather the drone of the pipes, he will invite you to follow him into the sacred halls of Grand Central. And just as the steely hands of the clock arrive at their midnight destination, a booming rendition of ‘Auld Lang Syne” will be performed for you and the confused stragglers inside. Hear the magnificent notes fly forth and resound, echoing from the ancient walls and fly! Fly with the melody to the misty moors of Scotland, over the grand Lochs and around the grassy knolls. You will be transformed, dear reader.

Such are the incredibly detailed instructions of how to receive a private ‘pipes performance for a dollar.

2) The word of the day is “Agelast” which means a person who never laughs. For example: “Mr. Guffaw, the comedian ‘guaranteed to have you slapping your knees and splitting your sides’ went into early retirement earlier this week after a scheduling mishap put him on stage in front of the meeting of the local Agelast Society instead of the Compulsive Gigglers Convention”

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The very best regards,

Grafit [Name Censored]


Good afternoon team,

Work fairly, read clearly

The [Name Censored] Report Subtle, elegant. 

1)The recent hubbub about gender equality at the Harvard Business School (HBS) has made it obvious that even the most venerable institutions may contain hidden imbalances. HSBC, another institution whose name begins with an H, is no exception to possible inequity between its male and female employees. The recent rounds of cultural transformation caused The Report to run an independent investigation and we are obliged to share the findings with our readers.

Unlike most investigative reports, this one will begin by introducing the conclusion. There is indeed gender inequality in our workplace. One example of this is the fact that men and women at our institution are segregated into different rooms to wash their hands. “We’ve heard this ‘separate but equal nonsense before’,” say cynics, “it doesn’t work.” Indeed, when two entities do not occupy the same time-space location, they cannot be said to be identical according to rudimentary metaphysics.

In fact, there is clear evidence of unequal spending on Male restrooms. A direct quote from our investigator: “I couldn’t check out the Ladies room because I’m not allowed in there, but based on what I saw in the Men’s’ room there’s definitely a lot of money being spent on urinal cakes. I can’t imagine that they have anything similar in the Ladies’ room. Those urinal cakes definitely go for 1$ even 2$ each. That can get pretty expensive…”

From this finding we can determine that the way to remedy the situation is by eliminating barriers between the separate bathrooms and instead setting up a rotating schedule. Every 5 minutes all the occupants in the restroom must vacate the premises to make room for the opposite gender. Any unfinished business must wait until the next rotation. Additionally, there should now be urinal cakes in the sinks but they will be given the non-normative label of Sink Cakes.

Additionally, another glaring case of inequality was discovered in our workplace – namely, in the realm of habiliments. It seems that men are forced to spend far more on clothes than their female counterparts. It was determined that a skirt, which is an acceptable form of clothing for a lady requires only 2/3 the amount of fabric of a male set of pants. While this may not seem like much, that extra pant material sure catches up with the wallet. While it was suggested that men should be allowed to wear skirts to save on their legwear purchase the problem with this suggestion is obvious: men are generally taller than women and would have to get longer skirts. We’d be right back where we started. Instead, an independent consulting firm suggested that the entire company switch to more economical and gender neutral wizard’s robes.

Luckily, no other inequality issues were noticed and the ones that were have easy-to-follow solutions. We look forward to seeing them implemented early next fiscal quarter.

2) The word of the day is “Xylopolist” which means one who is in the business of selling wood. For example: “On a bright summer day, one could stroll down to the timber bazaar and see the xylopolists displaying their wares.”

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The very best regards,

Grafit [Name Censored]


Good morning team,

Today is a new day

The [Name Censored] Report Healthy and nutritious. 

1) Everyone feels great about getting together with their important friends. Although some of the journalists for this publication may have participated in a poker game in which the stakes were as high as $5, a slightly more notable event also occurred. This was, of course, last week’s G20 conference in which only the most premier world leaders are allowed to hang out with nineteen of their most interesting friends. Long after the cameras had shut off on the official meetings, some of The Report’s investigators were able to infiltrate behind the scenes of the vaunted conference and view the participants in their more relaxed states.

“Well gentlemen, I think we all know what it’s time for,” began the President of the Russian Federation, Vladimir Putin, with that signature mischievous glint in his eye to hearty chuckles and enthusiastic hoots, “perhaps I will lower this sharkskin projection screen so that we can all view the game like civilized people?” A full round of applause greeted this proposal and he smiled his full toothy Santa Clause smile-one that is reported to be commonly seen in private appearances.

Of course, these gentlemen were about to engage in a favorite pastime among celebrities which is watching other professionals doing their jobs, office workers in particular. The phenomenon was recorded in a previous edition of The Report (2.1). “I’m quite excited,” stated a world leader who chose to remain anonymous because his country censors all Office Workers League Games, “why just the other day a couple of us guys were supposed to be deciding on legislation but really we were just streaming the finale of the infamous 8 Hour Meeting between two powerhouse corporate teams. I mean all of us were just rooting for Jonathan [Last Name Omitted] to close the deal with one of his skilled orations. And then he totally dropped the ball. I felt like he hadn’t even reviewed the PowerPoint before going up there. It wasn’t even close.”

“Oh I absolutely saw that one!” chimed in Francois Hollande, President of the French Republic, I had a few guys investigate- if you know what I mean- and apparently, the cause of the lackluster performance was the unsporting attitude of the visiting team. It was the assistant to Jonathan [Last Name Omitted] who knew the play by heart and was supposed to be the anchor, but one of the hotshots from the rival team discretely spilled coffee on the hapless assistant early in the final quarter and the unfortunate fellow had to spend the whole remainder of the heated meeting wallowing in shame in the bathroom.” This revelation caused deep murmurs of contemplation among the participants at the historical summit.

On the final day of the conference, when major decisions on international conflicts were supposed to be decided, the entire Group of 20 was nowhere to be found. A nice Soviet-Style handshake (one with a 30-ruble note) was enough to convince the janitor to point our reporters in the right direction. And there they were: the twenty heads of the wealthiest countries in the world huddled over a small screen in the janitor’s closet. Apparently, the Corporate Ladder Climb challenge semi-finals were taking place and everyone was too absorbed to notice that the meetings had begun. “Close that verdammt door!” yelled Angela Merkel, Chancellor of Germany, who had a mop on her head.

2) The word of the day is “Gongoozler” which means an idle spectator. For example: “I was only one of hundreds of gongoozlers at the annual butterfly parade”

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The very best regards,

Grafit [Name Censored]


Good morning team,

Read with pride

The [Name Censored] Report Mildly metaphysical. 

1) “It’s amazing, it really is. I mean they’re right there. It’s really happening right now and they’re telling us about it.” Such were the words of an unidentified NASA scientist while watching a TMZ Live news report. He was, of course, echoing the sentiments of his colleagues about the fact that they often observe phenomena long after their occurrence. “It’s such a drag, this whole light speed thing. Just the other day, I was trying to study something in the center of our galaxy, the Milky Way, and I thought I saw a weird shape forming.” Confided one of NASA’s finest, “I was so excited, I ran into the lunch room and said ‘hey look what I found!’ You know what they said to me? They said: ‘Get real, guy. That news is 26,000 years old.’” He was near tears as he went on, “and you know what?? They’re right. The center of the Milky Way is 26 x 10^3 Light Years away. How am I supposed to have fresh findings? That news is older than King Tut.”

“Hey, hey what about King Tut?!” replied a team of paleontologists who were visiting the premises. One of their number was incapable of containing his outrage any longer: “What’s he going on about anyway? I found a bone the other day. A real good one. Intact, real Dinosaur. You know what? 64 million years old. I was just ready to tear my hair out. Talk about being a day late and a dollar short. The only person who has older news than that is a rock doctor.”

At this point a bespectacled man with a pointy gray beard, the unmistakable dusty trousers of a geologist, and a demeanor of infinite wisdom walked into the room: “A rock doctor you say?…”

2) The word of the day is “Causeuse” which means a small couch built for two people. For example: “Professor Frisker held meetings in his office strictly on the causeuse. Perhaps this was why he had so few visitors.”

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The very best regards,

Grafit [Name Censored]


Good morning team,

Today is a new day

The [Name Censored] Report Revolutionary.  

1) “What’s the point of anything anymore?” asked a dismayed community of language pedants. Indeed! For centuries, strict grammarians have delighted in pointing out the errors of their less well-versed associates. One such quibbler found himself outquibbled quite quickly when overhearing the following phrase: “Oh my gawsh, when I saw [insert celebrity name] I literally died. Like Literally DIED.” Batman being summoned by the Bat-shaped spotlight could not have been faster than this self-appointed vigilante of proper word usage who leapt into action and attacked the poor misguided soul. “You didn’t literally die, you fool!” He berated his victim, “If you had literally died, you would be dead, on the floor and there would be a crime team investigating what happened,” he went on with his tirade, “but you’re not dead are you? You’re quite literally alive.” Of course, the response was one of deep shame. The young language bungler turned a deeply crimson face to her assailant and, surprise of surprises, pulled out of her purse a recent copy of the Oxford English Dictionary and threw it at the verbal troll. She produced a Merriam-Webster as well and hurled it at the attacker, and just for good measure, when it would seem extraordinary for there to be anything more in her small bag, she took out the Oxford’s rival (Cambridge) and dropped it on the ground because her hands shook with wrath. The Grammar Fascist was stunned at this display, and could only manage to keep all the books in his hands without falling over. “I will have you know, you worthless dogmatist, you pathetic pedant, you mean sophist, you wretched purist,” she began, “that the world is changing. It’s changing under your feet-which are shod in last season’s shoes,” she added the insult for good measure and continued, “and what is more, you stick to your old ways and tried tricks reaching for them as a decrepit magician pulls a greying hare out of his hat. Well, the truth is that if you open that book up to page 1178, or that one to 895, or this one to 2043, you will find that for quite some time now, it has been acceptable to use the term as an emphasis without it having to be literally true. Kind of like virtually.” She finished and walked away. The lame lexicographer literally turned to stone out of shame and is probably still standing there as a statue.

Apparently, the force of common usage, or mis-usage rather, caused the venerable guardians of our language to alter this seemingly immutable word. Does this mean that if enough people believe that inflammable means the same thing as non-flammable, we can expect to see a change? Perhaps. The whole thing can easily spiral out of control, “Vast” will be used in place of “Fast” and who will know the difference between a “Book” and a “Brook” anymore? What we have found is that as a living language, English can change any which way and can be afflicted with diseases such as the tumor that is the second definition of “Literal”. In other news, the word “gullible” is no longer in the dictionary anymore.

2) The word of the day is “Permanent” which means temporary. For example: “The permanent exhibits at the museum changed once every few months.”

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The very best regards,

Grafit [Name Censored]


Happy evening team,

Long weekend ahead

The [Name Censored] Report Ground Breaking.  

1) The disengaged employee can be spotted from across the room. As soon as the demoralized posture of such an employee is seen, the entire atmosphere becomes poisoned with lethargy. The very air one breathes becomes viscous and the observer might feel him or herself become heavy with unspecified woes. This sounds unpleasant, “but,” I can hear you say, “there aren’t that many of those, so it’s all hunky-dory.” This reporter has uncovered a shocking truth. According to the 2013 State of the American Workplace Report (compiled by Gallup, Inc., a performance-management consulting company), “currently, 30% of the U.S. workforce is engaged in their work, and the ratio of engaged to actively disengaged employees is roughly 2-to-1, meaning that the vast majority of U.S. workers (70%) are not reaching their full potential…”

The 30%, the engaged employees are those who feel a “profound” connection to their company and constantly innovate to drive the company forward. Also identified by the poll are the majority which is subdivided into two groups: the not engaged and the actively disengaged. The former category is described as putting time into their work but no passion or energy-essentially being physically present but not using their full mental capacity. The latter group is a unit of subversion which acts on disengagement and essentially sabotages some of the gains made by the engaged group. Needless to say, the best firms are able to have a high proportion of engaged workers to disengaged ones. Not surprisingly, firms with high percentages of engaged workers see greater growth, higher productivity and high quality work with fewer mistakes.

However, engagement should not be mistaken for indulgence. The way to engage employees is not simply by offering treats, rewards or perks (although this reporter will say that sure helps). According to the study, the manager is the most important element in dictating the engagement level of his or her employees. The complexity of the job is to discover and foster the individual strengths of each team member rather than to treat everyone as an interchangeable part. Other important findings show that flex work is important, but the most engaged employees typically spend 20% of their time working remotely. Additionally, engagement was shown to increase when individuals worked in small tightly-knit teams.

Ultimately, the whole discussion can be slightly vague and pinning down precise descriptions of what an engaged worker looks like as opposed to a disengaged one is rather difficult. However, harkening back to the introduction of this article we find that Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart said it best when describing the threshold for obscenity: “I know it when I see it.” Although it’s not easy to do and may involve spending some time getting acquainted with all the characters one works with, the positive effects of increasing engagement are vast.

Don’t let disengagement happen to you, read the [Name Censored] Report.

The full Gallup study can be found here:

2) The word of the day is “Witzelsucht” which means a tendency to constantly engage in weak attempts at humor. For example: “That guy is lamer than a lame llama, the only thing he’s good at is witzelsucht.”

3) If you would like to be removed from the recipient list of this cutting edge publication please reply to this email with the word STOP. Note: once cancelled, subscriptions cannot be renewed.

The very best regards,

Grafit [Name Censored]


Happy evening team,

Back to our usual programming

The [Name Censored] Report Thought provoking.  

1) Today, the website of The New York Times is down due to alleged attacks by Syrian cyber warriors; however, The Report’s Digital Security team was able to fend of all attempted interference to continue delivering our award winning coverage.

A brief survey of contemporary news sources shows that most U.S. based news outlets are not featuring impending military actions involving the U.S in Syria as a headline story with many focusing on the Fort Hood trial or MLK’s speech, now five decades old. Yesterday’s spirited coverage of Miley Cyrus’s performance at the Video Music Awards (right here in Brooklyn) suggests utter fascination with a wide variety of subjects except those which have the potential to affect countless lives. Interestingly, foreign based services such as Reuters, RT, and France24 are all focused on the impending possibility of war. This reporter believes that on a macro- scale,  US based news services may be helping to continue an American tradition of “guns and butter” started sometime after the Second World War. This, of course, means waging wars (or conflict-like actions involving explosions and sort-of-battles with something-akin-to-bombs-maybe-being-dropped but not actually called ‘war’) and taking on large debts to finance such actions so as to leave the citizenry of the United States as unaffected as possible by events happening thousands of miles away. This method has historically proven effective at postponing significant pushback from concerned citizens to keep armed forces in action for longer periods of time.

In Jean Baudrillard’s contentious work titled “The Gulf War Did Not Take Place”, it is suggested that in today’s world, a country’s populace is incapable of relating to the real events of a war its nation is waging except through the stylized and carefully selected images presented by conglomerated news sources. If there is no further effect on a person’s daily life, the war can become just another television show to be passed over for something more pleasant to watch. A much wiser mind than this one can decide whether the actions of the United States in Syria are necessary; but whatever the case may be, something of this magnitude ought to be on the forefront of the news in America and not on the periphery.

These may all be the wild speculations of the only press services not threatened by international hackers or they may not. As always, you, dear reader, are the judge.

2) The word of the day is “Aeolist” which means a pompous windy bore who pretends to have inspiration. For example: “That aeolist shouts ‘I’ve got it,’ and runs to jot it down in his silly notebook every time an idea comes into his head; then he talks about his mundane nonsense until we can’t take it anymore.”

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The very best regards,

Grafit [Name Censored]


Happy evening team,

PART 4 of 4 The exciting conclusion!

The [Name Censored] Report Always apropos.  

1) The year had passed by in the haze of an interminable slumber punctuated by hazy moments of simulated lucidity. Bunbury received his promotion shortly after the fateful bargain had been struck. He was permitted to arrive well after the sun had begun to warm the left side of the sloped copper roof but was expected to be in before it had swung around to the other side. Propriety demanded that he stay within the confines of his well-appointed office throughout most of the day, and he quickly developed a habit of performing his intellectual labors in his sleep.

The ever-cheerful Mr. Buncombe or even the eccentric Batz would drop in once a week in order to offer a perfunctory word of wisdom and robust encouragement. Platitudes like, “hold this course of healthy production as steady as the helm of a Wüdsproch schooner…” and, “a third-rate alchemist is better than a superlative cobbler,” were minor annoyances to which he would respond with groggy verbal parries.

Although he had excellent vision, Bunbury felt as if he observed the world through the greasy and soiled window of a disreputable public house. The liverwurst and onion sandwiches prepared by his landlady which he had once heartily eaten on Sundays before spending the day in spirited exercise now remained uneaten until late in the day when the perpetually somnambulant Bunbury would rise, and lazily sample the plate that had been left to degenerate most of the day.

He did not question his life with existentialist angst nor did he idealize the sublime beauty of things. All abstract concepts such as pride in work, honor, and rectitude no longer evoked the feelings of optimistic exuberance which once fueled his passion for achievement. Rather, such thoughts and concepts seemed to build up somewhere in his psyche and then disintegrate against a wall of lethargic apathy as do gentle waves against an eternal cliff.

As the final day of his soulless year approached, Bunbury was visited by Messrs. Buncombe and Batz at the same time- this was highly irregular. “Mr. Bunbury, we have been discussing it: we’re awful happy with your production, you see” began Buncombe, “but we think it’s time someone else had a crack at shoeing the flea,” concluded Batz. Bunbury didn’t hear a word of what else was said but he realized that he would be relieved of his duties beginning the next day. This conversation happened in the early afternoon and Bunbury spent the entire day feverishly expecting a voice to come from the shiny copper speaking tube that adorned the magnificent desk which would no longer be his.

After everyone had gone for the day, the speaking tube rattled frightfully as expected. “Bunbury!” said a hasty voice. “It’s me, Beelzebub.”

“I’ve been waiting so long; I just couldn’t go on…”

“No time now, listen. I’ve got to go, my whole shop is closing. I’ve lost it all! I’m terribly sorry.”

“Lost it all? What do you mean? My soul!?”

“Yours! Everybody’s! I made a bad play. I was going to make a huge return. Then the whole Metaphysical Market plummeted. Myriad firms are ruined!”

“But what am I to do? I can’t go on like this!”

“You’ll have to get on, start saving up. Maybe we’ll get you set up with one in a few years. You’ll be alright. Let’s stay in touch…ta-ta.”

The speaking tube fell silent, and Bunbury fell into a dark gloom. He collected his few personal effects and began his final journey across the Scribbling Room of Buncombe and Batz. He even took one of his junior clerk’s inkpots as a souvenir. As he exited the doors of the famed proprietorship he was observed to head in the direction of the setting sun, inkpot in hand.

As the personal biographer of Mr. Bunbury, this reporter took it upon himself to investigate the strange occurrences that led to the disappearance of the promising clerk at the peak of his career. After performing an exhaustive search within the offices of Buncombe and Batz, a small intruding voice apparatus was found deep within the lower levels of the speaking tube network, particularly in a place that had a direct connection to Bunbury’s desk.  After a brief interrogation, a suspect— Bartleby— confessed: “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just wanted to get the job you see. I could never do it with him around and I heard that they were going to pick him over me, so I just gave him a fright. See? I didn’t mean a thing. What’s all this nonsense with souls anyway?”

Bartleby is now happily employed as the head Clerk at the illustrious offices of Buncombe and Batz.


2) The word of the day is “cruciverbalist” which means one who loves solving crossword puzzles. For example, “On Sundays, one should walk briskly and silently past the room in the library’s western corner so as not to break the concentration and incur the wrath of the cruciverbalists that gather there.”

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The very best regards,

Grafit [Name Censored]


Happy pre-weekend team,

Part 3 of 4 The multi-day serial story continues once more

The [Name Censored] Report Something strange this way comes.

1) “B-b-buu…., I beg your pardon,” stammered Bunbury. Laughter roared from the speaking tube’s brass opening in response. As he was bombarded by this hilarity, Bunbury furiously began to question his sanity. He carefully examined the seal on the bottle of laudanum given to him which he had, as yet, refused to try; he recited the quadratic equation to his satisfaction and deduced, according to the Cartesian method, that his mind was intact. Finally, the hellish laughter stopped and the voice continued in a deep bass: “Very pleasant to make your acquaintance.”
“Ermmm, yes how did you connect to the speaking tube networks?”
“Let’s, just say I’m in the basement department”
“With the furnaces…?”
“Precisely. I hope you will let me steal a moment of your time to present you with an exclusive offer.”
“This all seems highly improbable.”
“Of course, of course. But I promise this will be a win-win situation for the both of us.”
The conversation had proceeded far enough in Bunbury’s opinion and he gained the courage to utter a thought he had been forming as soon as he accepted the absurdity of the situation. This was roughly around the time of the mention of the “win-win.”
“You sound an awful lot like one of the solicitors that roam this neighborhood, looking to take anyone’s ear off with their limp-noodled proposals.”
Now the voice of Beelzebub rose and octave and a half from indignation, “Listen well. I will have you know that I am prepared to discuss the details of a mutually advantageous enterprise in which your half of the proceeds may just turn out to be the larger one.”
This sounded enticing and Bunbury was excited enough to overlook the fact that there is no such thing as a larger half. In a moment of sudden caprice, he changed his mind and uttered:

“There’s no such thing as a larger half.”
-Silence. Complete. Utter. Silence. For multiple eternities.
“Hello?” Bunbury strained to hear a response. His next exclamation came out quit high pitched.
More bottomless silence. The young Desk Minion began to squirm uncomfortably.
“Say sorry,” came the sudden and odd request.
Bunbury swallowed his pride as a boa constrictor might swallow a small antelope and held in the impossibly huge sigh of relief.
“I’m sorry, what were you saying?”
“I am prepared to offer you an extremely high yield return on a term deposit of your soul with me. Everything is negotiable, but I think that the most profit would be gained from a yearlong deposit. Everything will be insured, of course, and stored safely in our vaults.”

The last remaining living human in the offices of Buncombe and Batz was sure he had misheard.

“Did you say soul?”

“Precisely! You won’t feel a thing and, to be honest, it is depreciating quite rapidly just sitting there. I will give you a handsome return. It’s just losing value as we speak.”

“Losing value? No, I don’t think this is proper.”

“Look, look, what are you doing with your soul? You don’t nourish it with poetry, you rarely let it wander in your dreams. It’s atrophying while you work all day. We’ll get it nice and spruced up over here and you’ll get it back before you knew it was gone.”

“What about the matter of this return.”

“Ah yes, of course! Now I am one who knows that cheap things aren’t good and good things aren’t cheap. And you’ve got quite the goods. For one year of you keeping your soul with my establishment, I am prepared to offer you a guarantee of promotion. I’ll have you know that that Bartleby fellow quite readily signed up for three years just to get the position at Buncombe and Batz…”

The mention of the loathsome Bartleby’s name as well as the promise of the long-coveted promotion, set Bunbury into a blaze of agitated excitement. He could hardly contain himself and writhed slightly with glee making his old wooden chair creek. All the nonsense with souls was forgotten as he imagined the sumptuous office with the green baize panels in the rich walls decorated with exotic woods which awaited those who were hardy enough to get promoted into the strata of Associate Over-Clerk. He would command an entire brigade of Ink-boys and Junior clerks!

“One year you say? Yes! By Jove! Yes! I’ll do it!”


2) The word of the day is “Quomodocunquize” which means to make money by any means possible. For example: “The denizens of the infamous Avarice Cafe were such quomodocunquizing varlets that, it was said, one of their number had sold his own grandmother to a knitting factory for 13 guilders and half a florin.”

3) If you would like to be removed from the recipient list of this cutting edge publication please reply to this email with the word STOP. Note: once cancelled, subscriptions cannot be renewed.

The very best regards,

Grafit [Name Censored]


Good evening team,

Part 2 of 4 The multi-day serial story continues

The [Name Censored] Report Literary romps.

1) The demonic rumble stopped suddenly; only an eerie, hollow noise remained as the final vibrations completed their course through the speaking pipe. Bunbury experienced dread, cold and pure slowly descending through his body, paralyzing him to the spot as he stared transfixed with horror at the brass opening that was meant to carry orders and instructions from various departments to his desk. He mentally followed the tube’s course through the walls of the building, and its many outlets, his frightened mind spinning fantastic possibilities for the possible cause of the noise. Yet he was sure that everyone had gone for the day. “Bartleby!” was the first rational thought that entered his head and the absolute fear which once held him relinquished its grip to the force of a most annoyed anger. “Bartleby!” he yelled across the floor in the direction of the one lamp with the green shade that still had its light on, “I say old chap did you hear that absurd noise? I reckon it’s the furnace acting up again!” He then realized that the idea of a furnace was absurd in the oppressive summer heat and immediately chastised himself with furious seriousness. “What furnace? I should have never mentioned that blasted furnace,” he whispered to himself as he made his way across the, now abandoned, office.

By this time, Bunbury had regained his full composure and replayed the scene that had just occurred in his mind. He saw what the whole business must have looked like to an outsider. He, Bunbury, of course, diligently working until alerted by the noise and handling the situation graciously while keeping the poise of an officer in battle. He even imagined that the sun’s rays filtering through the thick glass windows had fallen on his shoulders to create two golden epaulettes that steeled his resolve as he waited for the noise to halt. He even fancied that upon its conclusion, without missing a beat, he had calmly said ‘”Good afternoon, Buncombe and Batz, may I help you?” He continued to edit and add to all that had transpired as an artist might make delicate adjustments to a sketch with charcoal dust. As he approached the cluster of wooden desks completely obscured by tall shelves, he happily let the heels of his fashionable demi-boots (purchased on a whim for nearly a month’s salary from a shop which claimed to import all of its supplies from Paris) fall on the dark wooden floors with satisfying thuds.

“I say, Bartleby, are you there?” asked Bunbury after he rounded the last corner of the labyrinth of shelves and saw a clearly empty desk illuminated by the aforementioned green shaded lamp. It would obvious to even the most amateur deductionist that Bartleby had fled to enjoy the delights of the park along with the rest of the office at the earliest acceptable moment. This was evident as, in his rush, he had failed to extinguish the lamp and trapped a corner of foolscap paper -which stuck out like a bulldog’s tongue- in the interstice between the locked drawer and the desk. “Am I talking to myself?” Bunbury exclaimed rhetorically. His only response was the quiet buzz of the electric lamp.

Dissatisfied that he had stuck around the office for several hours when there was no one to compete against, a dejected Bunbury made his way back across the perfectly straight columns of the junior clerks’ desks, taking no care to avoid the ink-stained sheets of blotting paper which littered the floor. The documents at his desk still demanded attention and the glorious summer afternoon would be long gone by the time Bunbury affixed his last seal. He felt incredibly parched and realized that along with the frolics in the park that he was missing, the one thing that truly bothered him was that he would be too late to get a fizzy saffron-flavored drink from the blind Soda Jerk who wheeled his cart around the fountain with the statue of Tenacity.

“To the devil with it all,” he grumbled. And as if in response, the speaking tube rumbled in response. A voice, at first, incredibly high pitched but growing deeper with every word emanated from the Speaking Pipe: “speak of him and he shall appear. Hello Bunbury, I am Beelzebub.”


2) The word of the day is “abecedarian” which means person who is learning the alphabet. For example: “After accidentally walking into a kindergarten class, Felix Gardescript, the Master of Arts and Letters of Crumbridge university, turned on his heel and immediately exited, mumbling ‘bunch of abecedarians,’ as he departed.”

3) If you would like to be removed from the recipient list of this cutting edge publication please reply to this email with the word STOP. Note: once cancelled, subscriptions cannot be renewed.

The very best regards,

Grafit [Name Censored]


Good evening team,

Part 1 of 4 The multi-day serial story

The [Name Censored] Report Our favorite rag.

1)  As the hours slowed down, seemingly stretched by the golden beams of summer twilight, Bunbury quietly sat at his desk cluttered with the flotsam of the day. He was deep in thought, however, and fully oblivious to the temptations of the half eaten salad wrap as well as the various documents which yet demanded his attention. His contemplations centered around one subject: the upcoming promotion. There was nothing he wanted more. He had sacrificed countless rounds of tenpins with the oldboys in order to stay ahead of his colleagues. In his university days hardly a day went by without him engaging in a spirited game of Hens and Nickels with anyone willing to play the foil; his last game was nothing but a hazy memory now. “Pfooey! Stuff and nonsense!” he reminded himself.

His foot tapped and his fingers were engaged in rapping a steady tattoo on the wooden desktop painted to resemble real authentic mahogany. Although the papers on his desk were, at this moment, chains that could only be broken after being given their due consideration, he couldn’t stop his mind from scheming. He assembled encounters, planned intrigues and thought of clever set ups that could propel him to the upper strata of the firm. He tried to link various scenarios as one would test out the compatibility of jigsaw puzzle pieces, the failed ones never discarded but stored in his mind for use at a more opportune time.

A particular wart on his aspirations was Bartleby, the clerk who sat on the opposite side of the vast 13th floor of the steel and red brick edifice of Buncombe and Batz, esquires. Bartleby’s agility was comparable to that of the growth pace of a sprightly deciduous tree. A snail could get to the bottom of a page before his pen did. Yet, uncannily- quite uncannily-in fact, one had only to stop observing Bartleby for an instant and when one’s gaze fell back to the plodding figure in the shabby overcoat, the stack of completed work seemed to have grown with slight but noticeable progress. “What an irksome carbuncle!” thought Bunbury. Even now, as all the employees-from the lowliest inkboy, to Messrs Buncombe and Batz themselves-had fled the stifling heat of the work premises in favor of the long, shaded promenades of the nearby Admiral’s Park, only Bunbury and Bartleby remained. Each wanting to deny the other the satisfaction of seeing a rival abandon his post first. Suddenly, the quiet of the office, punctuated by the muffled sounds of the peddlers’ voices from outside, was shattered as an unearthly rumble could be heard emanating from the speaking pipe connected to his desk. The noise began quietly and increased until Bunbury was sure that the whole thing would shatter his entire desk with its vibrations…


2) The word of the day is “unwonted” which means unaccustomed or unusual. For example: “The daily new source suddenly began to publish unwonted and unwelcome piles of nonsense in lieu of the responsible reporting which its readers expected.”

3) If you would like to be removed from the recipient list of this cutting edge publication please reply to this email with the word STOP. Note: once cancelled, subscriptions cannot be renewed.

The very best regards,

Grafit [Name Censored]


Good evening team,

Folio Deux

The [Name Censored] Report Like water for the parched cactus.

1) “Why of course, I can transform myself into anything I want,” she said mysteriously,” I can become a harlequin or a journalist as soon as I decide to do so…” This metamorphic woman chose to remain anonymous but certainly created a thought provoking prompt. Although human beings cannot transform physically except in very special stories by Franz Kafka, shifts in perspective and belief may occur on an almost daily basis and can be done by choice. However, according to the Marxist conception of history, changes in real world conditions are responsible for shifts in ideology: beliefs are responses to material conditions. This means that it is more likely that one will have certain mindset based on making the best of what is around him or her than create surroundings to match a certain existing perspective. With cultural transformation being the current trending topic at HSBC, this academic work aims to make a suggestion. Creating the theoretical framework for an ideal culture is relatively simple, but change is slow if, after the power point presentation, everything looks exactly the same and one’s surroundings haven’t changed one bit. For this reason, a think tank sponsored by the [Name Censored] Report has conclusive evidence that cultural transformation could be achieved at a 37.7% increased efficiency rate if in lieu of the Cultural Transformation Posters, there were Cultural Transformation Hot Chocolate Dispensers or Gumball Machines with Own, Ask, or Do printed on the gumballs. As Friedrich Engels always said: “If, it,is,thus; therefore, necessary, as such, that everyone needs to drink the Kool-Aid, hence, ergo sum and summarily give them the Kool-Aid and not the instructions for making it.”

2) The word of the day is “adoxography” which means skilled writing on an unimportant subject. For example: “‘Oh Buncombe!’ exclaimed Fosterwumble, all this adoxography is making me quite tired an ill.’Well if you don’t keep at it,’ replied Buncombe, ‘the Minister of Inanity will be upset that we haven’t given the proper attention to the sublime curves of the Exalted mud clot'”

3) If you would like to be removed from the recipient list of this cutting edge publication please reply to this email with the word STOP. Note: once cancelled, subscriptions cannot be renewed.

The very best regards,

Grafit [Name Censored]


Good morning team,

There are 25 issues in a folio and 4 folios in a volume

The [Name Censored] Report Folio II Issue 1

1) Lordy lord, I’m just so bored at work!” said the man as he was just finishing up his late afternoon tasks. This was, of course, none other than one of FC Barcelona’s star strikers commenting as he concluded the Tuesday practice. He described the tasks he had to perform as repetitive and, sometimes, downright difficult. His experience was shared by many other major league athletes from members of the National Basketball Association to the Cricketers of the England National Squad. When asked for comment, all of the athletic representatives described their work as tedious, wearisome, and capable of getting unbearably heavy. They were then asked to describe how they chose to unwind after long days on the pitch. The West Indian cricket team’s wicket-keeper explained that he often chose to watch the exhilarating vicissitudes of the Professional Office Workers Syndicate (POWS). “I mean those guys, what they do is insane! Technical skills, mental concentration and just superb form with the keyboard…Some of them can perform every function in Excel with just the keyboard!” A scrum-half from New Zealand’s All-Blacks Rugby squad explained that he never missed a game of the POWS league because he loved seeing the outfits: ‘You get to see some amazing sartorial displays, they don’t have specific uniforms – ya see- so there’s all sorts of little personal touches all of the players have. Some have different colored shirts, others wear green ties with little rugby players drawn on them…there’s so much character there.” Of course, some are not amused by such momentary displays of excitement and instead prefer to watch the longer term events. The grueling multi-decade long “Corporate Ladder Climb” is seen by some spectators as the only event worth watching. An ultra-marathon runner who is a particularly ardent enthusiast of the Ladder Climb compared the event to an epic poem filled with assortments of personalities, mythical pitfalls and seemingly unbeatable odds. “I don’t watch it because I want to,” revealed the marathonist, “I watch it because my life would be meaningless without it.”

2) The word of the day is “Parvenu” which means a person that has suddenly risen to a position of wealth or power and has not yet adopted the required prestige, dignity, or manner. For example: “Although Claude Jean-Claude delivered a masterful oration on the wonders of the Doric Column, as a result of which he was appointed a chairmanship on the coveted Capitals board, the other members of the Greek Column Admiration Society treated him like the parvenu he was because of the shoddy assembly of his toga and his absolutely inadequate wreath of olive branches.”

3) If you would like to be removed from the recipient list of this cutting edge publication please reply to this email with the word STOP. Note: once cancelled, subscriptions cannot be renewed.

The very best regards,

Grafit [Name Censored]


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