Destroying February -- Did I Do Enough?

Dear Friends,

I am given to understand that we are on the verge of a great victory in our interminable month-long struggle to destroy the month of February. Let me be clear, for any who may not understand the gravity of this moment; I don't mean February simply will end for another year; I mean this is literally the end of the calendar as we have known it, as it has included February. That's right. This is the last February any of us will ever see. A major reorganization of time itself will soon be underway!

Understandably, I'm flushed with pride that we undertook this great cause, and now are seeing a successful conclusion to the campaign. As I recall, they literally said, "It won't be done, it can't be done." Please note the emphasis on the words won't and can't. That's rich! I'll savor that a good long time! For the old truth is still good as gold: If you set your heart and mind on something -- and go after it with everything you've got, be you madman, be you fool -- it's as good as done. I've proven the adage.

If there's any doubt that the deed indeed will be done -- and frankly all that's left is the mopping up -- time will tell. I believe we'll get the confirmation tomorrow, on the last day of February for this year ... and ever. I can't tell you how much I'm longing to see everyone's faces -- especially the doubters and haters (as modern lingo puts it) -- I'll probably pee my pants like a little girl with front row seats to a Menudo concert. Or whoever's popular now. There's a lot moments like that I'm going to enjoy!

Talking it over with supporters, they want me to use caution, and not prematurely declare victory. I know, I know, Nervous Nellies are everywhere! Even among my best allies and trusted lieutenants. But look, friends, we've overcome all; what is there to be nervous about? Haven't you seen yourselves the opposition fold like a dime-store napkin? Have you seen even one hint of passion on the other side? If I'd known it'd be so easy, I would've taken out February as a kid. I hated it then, having to hear kids born on Leap Year going, "I'm only four years old!" Sickening stuff.

But what if they have a point? We do have the next few days to celebrate in a big way. There's no reason we have to step on the gas and blow out the pipes today. Save some fun for later. Plus, and this is a little lesson I know from my group dynamics research on humiliating people, for any resistance you get from a ne'er-do-well, an enemy, a hater, it's better to lengthen their discomfort, self-recriminations, and disgrace than let it end too soon. Shame is a nasty concoction you want them to sip ... slowly!

I can just imagine how I'd feel if I thought February might survive this ordeal. Just saying What if? I'd feel terrible, and I'd be kicking myself, asking, "Did I do enough? Just tell me. Is this on me?" What if, instead of taking time out for myself during the struggle I'd been working harder? It's true, I watch Wheel of Fortune like everyone. And I think, Is this smart? What if it all came down to one more blog post, one more poster, one more meeting at the union hall, one more Februarian beaten to a bloody pulp and left in the alley? From one agitator to another, It's you or me, pal.

But I've been going by the domino theory on this deal, and that gives me confidence. You know the domino theory, I hope! (And yes, it's merely a theory; it's never been proven dominoes will fall reliably every time into the future. Until now, though, the domino theory has held up.) You push one over and it has ramifications, consequences. The theory states: "If the next thing, i.e., the domino, or something else that would react as a domino to the prior domino-like thing in a line, is struck by the prior domino-like thing, both will fall." You extrapolate from that, naturally, that the third, fourth items, and on and on, will also fall.

By the way, there's a second Domino theory, which is this: "Pizza from Domino's isn't bad, but there's usually a better local option." Obviously, it depends on where you live, so I'm not happy with the word usually.

Let us all get a good night's sleep tonight, then with the morning's light I believe we'll be looking at mountains of good news. Then, as the clock ticks ... the pendulum swinging back and forth ... or Felix's eyes going back and forth ... the lifeblood of February will be trickling out an open vein, leaving it finally a cold, hopeless, abandoned corpse. Our deliverance, at last, is at hand!

The Army Couldn't Save the Shopping Center

*BASED ON A TRUE STORY

The Army had a new man on duty, newly in charge of recruiting at the shopping center. He figured he could do it well, having the trust of the entire United States government.

The old man was retiring. He walked with a leg that had a limp in it, which would likely only get worse. The old man limped in after the welcome party and charged the new man with keeping the office safe. Such vows aren't necessary in the military, but the new man vowed it anyway.

Years passed, and recruitment activities were extremely successful, to the point it was ridiculous. The new man recruited just fine, helped by keen macho advertising, various psychological techniques of persuasion, and a bad economy. Every time the new man -- who was aging all the time -- saw his success he'd feel a warm glow. He'd do celebratory things, as we all do, like throwing a dart at the dartboard or polishing an apple. He was the cream of the crop.

Time continued to pass, until the shopping center was showing its age, wear and tear. Plus, demographics took their toll, the bad economy he depended on cutting both ways. Shoppers took their meager dollars elsewhere, Walmart. Stores closed, traffic slowed. Rentals hit rock bottom and the shopping center management had no choice but to throw up their hands and throw in the towel.

But until the bitter end, the Army office was open. The officer was faithful, still hoping to make a go of it, even making deals with dope-heads in the vacant parking lot. "If we give them something to knock 'em out, we can shanghai them and they won't wake up till they find themselves in basic." That was a great idea, but there was still the matter of the shopping center's sad owners tearing their hair out. The place had to close.

The officer, of course, had no choice then but to order the flag lowered and vacate the post. A couple days later and the place was rubble. The officer stood looking at it. When who should show up but the old man, his limp totally gone as now he was in a wheelchair. The two met, and immediately the younger man was overcome with terrific shame as the old man surveyed the area. Who, without so much as a handshake, rolled away, tears in his eyes, shaking his head.

The new man got the message. He had been charged with only one thing, to guard that shopping center at all costs ... a charge he had neglected and failed at. His 30-year career -- try to take this in -- which normally would've been considered stellar, was ... What would you call it? ... Botched, ruined, total crap ...

The new man, now the old man, put his hand to his heart: "A few weeks and I'll be in a new office. Then soon afterward I'll retire and a new man will take my place. The first thing I must do is have him make a similar vow."

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*There was an Army office in a shopping center that was eventually torn down.

Forbidden Fruit Still The Sweetest

I'm sorry to be posting so late. But I've had a busy day here at the hotel in my role as the head of the Organization's prostitution operation. It's kind of amazing, what all I've done in just the last month, since I turned to a life of crime. That first night, when I was out cutting people's screen doors and tipping garbage cans, I didn't even imagine I'd be involved in the actual flesh trade! But here I am!

They put me in charge, like I said, and I haven't wasted my time celebrating my good fortune. I've been using my power to make some changes, always with the goal of increasing our clientele, their satisfaction, and so our profits. A couple of cosmetic changes I've made: The girls must take a shower at least every other day, and they're all scheduled for an annual doctor's visit for their good health.

But the biggest thing I've done is to go back to my psychological, human environmental sciences roots and try something radically different. Here's how I reasoned it out: Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest. Now, prostitution by its nature is forbidden fruit. So it's already pretty sweet. But the nature of forbidding something means there is the chance of getting caught. Which is very exciting! But if we always have the place set aside, apart from the path of anyone who might notice, other than a few random guys with their heads down passing in the hall, there's very little excitement in that.

So I've basically opened the door and said, "Come in, take a look!" Please don't misunderstand me. We still have plenty to hide. We're always going to have guys who will be looking out for their reputation first and foremost. For them, though, they'll be the most excited! They still don't want to get caught, most of them, but there's definitely a lot of fun in the chance it might happen. Think about some of your own fetishes. You can attest that half the fun is the idea that someone might notice, and say, "Hey, is that pink underwear?"

Of course I'm spending a lot of my time trying to explain the concept to some of the guys who are leery of it. The mayor, he's not exactly sold on the idea, to say the least. The chief of police, he doesn't officially patronize the place, I should stress. And if they ever actually saw him here, it'd be hell to pay. Yes, this is the same guy whose desk the kid crapped on! If he finds out I was behind it, there might be trouble... But with everything I know, I don't think he'll talk!

One of my big ideas today was to open the lobby to kids walking home from school, and we had a receptionist serve them free ice cream cones. It's kind of kinky, I know, the danger that one of them might see their dad in there, but if there's no real danger, why bother? I saw one dad behind a potted plant, sweating it out. So much so, that when the kid left, the dad needed an ice cream cone, too! He was shaking, and still sweating, when I helped him into the elevator to go up for his date. But I have to think he was secretly very happy!

A couple of the ideas I have, but haven't had a chance to get them going yet, are: 1) To invite the Daily News photographer to walk the halls and snap pictures, randomly, of course, and only when it's least expected; and, 2) To hire a limo to pull up in front of the place at random times of the day and night. There won't be anyone in it, but there's nothing that makes people look like a limo! And if they catch a glimpse of a neighbor guy, their priest, the handyman, or whoever, in the doorway, so much the better!

How fun! And I'm thinking it's going to be very profitable!