IMAO World Headquarters

Oppo:  Odds Bodkins! Is this a Digger I see before me?

Who is that nameplate for?

Oppo: Do you mean “For whom is that nameplate?”

Friend of Walrus:  What gives? Asking for a friend.

Keln:  I couldn’t make this meeting.

Emu:  Squawk.

Basil:  Where’d we get the money for a new nameplate?

Walrus {on speakerphone}:   Hello?  Hello? . . .

Frank J.:  I’m in charge.

MINUTES: Resolved: Full salary, benefits, and stock options for emu, with corporate office, transportation, and housing, plus seven company-paid vacations per year.  Proposed, seconded, and passed with one squawk in the affirmative. 

IMAO World Headquarters, 5:00 p.m. (EST)

Frank J:  OK, it’s well past 8:00 a.m. — sorry to keep you waiting.  Who brought my Mountain Dew and Diablo sandwich?

Oppo: That’s Basil’s job.

Spacemonkey: Where is Basil?

Keln: He hasn’t been showing up for meetings.  Can the rest of us skip this?

Mr. Right: Yep.

Basil {via videoconferencing:}: Wait. What?  I’ve been posting.

Walrus: {via text message:} Can I have his office?

Keln: You didn’t see his blog posting?  There was an incident.

Frank J.: I’m in charge.

Oppo: Gadzooks!

Spacemonkey: I’m going to see if he’s OK!

Mr. Right: I’m going too!

Keln: Yep. I’m gonna cut out of this meeting, but not necessarily to see Basil.

Basil: Really, guys — I’m not exactly Joe Biden yet.

Walrus:  So, is the meeting over?  Working from home, you know. Hello?  Hello? . . .

Frank J.:  Well, sit back for my previously recorded six-hour TedTalk.  Who are you, again?

IMAO World Headquarters

Do you think you could ask the New Year’s revelers to keep it down? What day is it, anyway?
The round-the-clock music is making getting any work done a bit of a challenge.

“Challenge,” sirrah?

Not this again.

And if we are airing complaints, may I lodge one in re the cat? His gaze is decidedly unsettling.

What cat?

. . . and he’s even unsettling my new dog.

What dog?

[Image obtained by Walrus]

IMAO World Headquarters

You know what I’ve been thinking?

New decade, new contributor.

I’ve got work to do.

??

“Work.”

Be that as it may, I’ve decided we need someone with a little “je ne sais quoi” — a little . . .

— You have an extra set of keys?

For whom?

Walruskkkch.

Ah, he’s asleep. I’ll get the keys made. Who could possibly object?

What are these “thanks” of which you speak, Sirrah?

I’m thankful for the time spent with loved ones.

You intrigue me.  You are actuallly thankful to fall behind in your work?

I’ve pre-scheduled posts.

“Pre-scheduled”??

Yes. . . . And if you’re going to repeat everything I say in the form of a question, this conversation could go on . . .

Yes-yes-yes; keep it short. Will you be thankful for FrankJ’s humor?

Sure.

Very well. Now, pray tell me, what are these “loved ones” of which you speak?

I’m going to be a whistleblower.

?

Have FrankJ or you done anything impeachable?

Uh, no . . .

Well, I’ve been offered a Schiffload of money.

He’ll now jot it down as “having been discussed by two persons at the center of the controversy, who choose to remain anonymous.”

. . . Unless you want to go public . . . ?

Nope.

(Blows whistle)
Obstructing justice!

Heh. Just joking, America.
Hey – where’d you go?

So, you have a blog post idea for me?

Yes, sir, I do. You know how some TV shows stop from getting stale by making unexpected changes?

What do you mean?

You know Doctor Who? They make massive changes every few years and keep things fresh.

Okay. What are you proposing?

We turn you into a woman.

What?

Yeah yeah yeah. It’ll be totally unexpected.

I mean, how would that work? My name is Harvey. It’s not Pat or Robin or Ashley or Sam or any name that lends itself to either male or female characters. Harvey is pretty much a man’s name.

Or a rabbit’s.

Yeah, but it’s a male rabbit. That’s my point.

Oh, yeah. I guess that wouldn’t work. Whoops!

Whoopsie! You got anything else?

Well, how about a wedding? That always boosts ratings.

Oh! Weddings are tight! But didn’t we already do that with Frank J. and Sarah K.?

Oh, right. Wait! I’ve got it. We could kill you off.

What?

Yeah, that would subvert expectations.

What? Kill me?

Yeah. Remember on “Game of Thrones” how shocking it was when Ned Stark was killed off? The ratings skyrocketed.

So you want to behead me to make ratings skyrocket?

Now that you put it that way, it might not be such a good idea.

Thank you! I’ve grown quite attached to my head.

Oh, yeah. You want something else then?

How about I just retire?

You can’t do that!

You were wanting to kill me, but retirement is too much?

Wouldn’t that cause problems for everyone?

No, it’ll be super easy, barely an inconvenience.

Isn’t that my line?

You wanted to subvert expectations, didn’t you? Well, there you go.

You got me. Let’s try it again.

It’ll be super easy, barely an inconvenience.

Oh, really?

Yeah. I just write a post saying that I’m retiring. Then I quit posting. I take my personal blog offline, close some accounts, and there you go.

I see the “super easy” part. How is that “barely an inconvenience?”

For me, it is. The rest of you are just gonna have to step up for a little while. Besides, it’s not like I’m really going to retire.

*stinger*

IMAO World Headquarters

On the 24th floor.

What are you doing in Harvey’s office?

Stealing office supplies. If you call cash and valuables “office supplies.”

Of course I’ll have to report this.

I don’t know if Frank reads your emails.  Wow!!  IMAO-themed soaps in Harvey’s washrooms!!  Cats, walruses, cayley graphs, cliffs, and all these other indefinable shapes . . . some swag!  Hand me that trash can.

Oh, someone asked where you were at the party today.  Where were you?

I was in the cake.

Oh, yeah, the cake . . .  I never did give the signal for you to pop out, did I?

Come to think of it, I never told the guys to bring the cake up from the loading dock, did I?  I must have gotten distracted during the limbo contest . . .

Not much air in a cake…

Well, there are going to be plenty more cakes from now on!  Harvey left a bundle of cash, and said it was to upgrade the High Tea department.

Could he possibly have said “the I.T. department”?

Maybe.  So anyway, we used it for the pool party.

Oh. Where was this?

At the pool.

The what?

The company pool.

Where is that?

That leaky thing on the floor above your storeroom.

I was wondering about that.

Well, as the song says, “One man’s ceiling is another man’s floor.”

What does that mean?

It means you should have been upstairs at the pool instead of in the basement in a cake.

I don’t play pool. I used to play at First Baptist. True story. But that was a long time ago. I don’t play anymore. I wouldn’t fit in.

Sorry, I only caught the last four words of that; but, if Harvey calls, I’ll relay it.

I don’t do relay races either. I got a funny story about that. Back in high school…

*ring tone*

Ah!  It’s Harvey.  Shall I tell him you’ll be in charge of High Teas, also, from now on?  Wonderful.  {Exits, talking on phone}

I wonder who that was?

Earlier this week, IMAO commenter walruskkkch asked about getting a job at IMAO. Harvey mentioned there were openings. To further clarify, these are the top ten positions open at IMAO.

10. Elevator operator.
9. Telephone operator.
8. Telephone sanitizer.
6. Proof-reader to catch errors and omissions.
5. Someone to figure out what Basil does.
4. Someone else to do what Basil does.
3. ????
2. Profit!!!!
1. Writer for Top Ten lists.

Fax your resume to the number on the back of the Web page.

IMAO World Headquarters

It was a dark an stormy night.

Actually, it was morning. And the sun was shining through the clouds. And no rain was forecast. But, apart from that, it was a dark and stormy night.

Basil awoke with a start. It was the unmistakable sound of footsteps coming down the hall. He looked at his watch and confirmed the date and time.

“Okay, it’s 7 o’clock, and yeah, people should be coming in, but it’s Memorial Day. We’re closed today,” Basil said to no one.

“Who are you talking to?” no one replied.

“Myself.”

“You ever think that’s not healthy?” no one asked.

“I’m fine. But I do appreciate your concern,” Basil said, realizing no one really cared.

Basil also realized the steps were getting closer. He sat up on the cot, fumbled for his shoes, and crept over to the door.

Sure enough, those were footsteps. Someone was in the office early on a holiday. Maybe it was robbers. He could capture the robbers and he’d be a hero and then Harvey would give him a real office and not this supply closet with shelves of copy paper, ink pens, Post-It Note pads, and stacks of boxes of chips and snacks for the vending machines. A real office. With “IT Department” actually engraved on a sign and not scrawled across the door below a “Supply Closet” sign. That would be …

The footsteps were very clear now. Whoever it was, he was right outside.

Basil turned the knob and pulled the door open and rushed outside, yelling “Got you, you robbers, you!”

The man in the hallway said, “That’s quite an odd greeting to start someone’s day. Most say ‘Hello,’ ‘Hi,’ or even just ‘Hey.'”

Basil stood silent for a few seconds, sizing up the situation. Then, “Wait. I know you. You’re that fellow…”

Oppo said, “You can call me ‘Oppo’ since most people do. And what, pray tell, sir, would you have me call you?”

“Oppo? You’re the guy that writes those song parodies in the comments,” Basil said.

“Yes, sir, that’s me. I sometimes write verse. It’s often quite fun, but sometimes a curse,” Oppo replied.

“He writes more that just song parodies, Basil,” Harvey said. “You ought to read more that just the comments to your posts, you know.”

Basil spun around and saw the IMAO office manager standing in the hallway, watching the conversation.

“Oh, hi, Chief. I didn’t see you there.”

“You’ve met Oppo, I see.”

“Yeah, Chief. I’ve seen him down in the lobby leaving comments, but this is the first time I’ve seen him up here on these floors.”

“Well, you might see more of him around. This morning, in fact, he’s posted a poem he left in the comments the other day.”

“I thought you usually took them and wrote posts and credited him,” Basil said.

“Yes. But he can do that himself now. He can take a comment he leaves, whether it’s a song parody, or a poem, or one of those questions he leaves for you, or anything really, and post it himself.”

“What do you mean, ‘anything?'”

“I mean exactly that. If he gets an idea for something, he can post it. It doesn’t have to be a re-post of a comment. It can be anything at all. He doesn’t need my permission, he already has it. And he certainly doesn’t need yours.”

Oppo spoke up, “Excuse me good sirs, but I must step away. It seems nature’s calling; I should not delay.” And, with that, he stepped into the mensroom next to the Supply Closet IT Department.

Basil turned back to Harvey. “Why him? And why spend the money on him? I could use a raise.”

“He writes good stuff. Heck, he writes more than you do, and you’re on staff. Now, with him on staff, he can write stuff and help me out.”

“I write stuff,” Basil protested.

“Open Thread? That’s you posting the last YouTube video you watched then asking others to write stuff in the comments. Yeah, they write some really good things there, but that’s not much out of you.”

“I do more than that.”

“That ‘Ask IMAO Anything?’ All you did was rip of the old ‘Frank Answers’ posts.”

“That’s not true. I also ripped off Spacemonkey with that. It’s a hybrid ripoff.”

Harvey continued, “That doesn’t make it any better. And those occasional polls? You ask a question, give three answers, and hope the audience finds the third one funny. You ripped that off of from some morning drive show you heard on the radio.”

“I also will do a ‘Behind the Scenes’ post sometimes…”

“You mean those ripoffs of Frank’s ‘In My World’ posts? Do something original and we’ll talk about a raise,” Harvey said. “Anything else?”

“He talks funny.”

“Have you heard your accent? You sound like somebody trying to do a bad Gomer Pyle imitation.” Harvey paused for a moment. “Anything else?”

“No.”

“Back to work.”

“It’s a holiday,”

Harvey pointed to the Supply Closet IT Department. “Just go back to whatever it is you do when you aren’t bothering me.” With that, he walked away.

Basil turned as the door to the mensroom opened, and Oppo emerged.

“I hope my presence isn’t causing any grief. And I hope my stay here is more than just brief,” Oppo said.

“No, I’m sorry if I got us off on the wrong foot. I enjoy your stuff, actually.”

“Those words are quite kind, and I’m grateful for that. Let’s speak then no more of this short little spat.”

Basil nodded, “I won’t speak of it again. And certainly not Tuesday morning at 9 AM.”

Basil waved as he turned. “Welcome aboard, Oppo.”

Based on a true story. Some names and 98% of the facts have been changed.

IMAO World Headquarters
May 14, 2019

Basil knocked on the office doorframe. Harvey glanced up and the first thought that went through his head was “Oh my gosh, what has he done now?”

“Excuse me, Chief. I was wondering if you had considered picking up some more technical support staff? With all the updates and the S-E-O project, and everything else in the pipeline, it would be great if you could authorize a position.”

Harvey put down his pen and pushed his chair away from his desk. “You find somebody that’ll will be able to do the work and keep the department within budget and, sure, you can have a new supervisor.”

Basil smiled with relief. “Great, I think … wait, what? Supervisor?”

“I’m not putting you in charge of the department. Would you work for you?” Harvey asked.

“I see your point, Chief. Well, I found someone who responded to the ad I took out and I was hoping you’d give the green light.”

“I didn’t authorize an ad. That’s coming our of your paycheck.”

Basil sighed then turned and walked back towards the Supply Closet IT Department located next to the mensroom.

* * * *

“So, your résumé looks good. When can you start?” Basil asked the tall fellow who was standing next to the boxes of trail mix and Snickers bars.

“That’s not my résumé. That’s the packing list from that box of mouse pads you just opened,” the delivery man said. “I think you want to talk to the gentleman over in the corner.”

“Ah. Yes. Thanks.”

The shorter man stepped forward, all smiles.

“Glad to working here in great conservative Website office. Hi ho Silver.”

New Tech Support Supervisor

“I’m glad you could start right away, Boris. I’m not placing your accent. Where are you from?” Basil asked.

“Pittsburgh, Steel City, USA. Great American expert Web programmer from Pittsburgh, Ohio.” Boris responded.

“Oh, yeah. I should’ve figured. Cool shirt, by the way,” Basil said. “Well, let’s get to it.”

The delivery man spoke up. “This stuff was C-O-D. I need you to pay me for this. And no checks. $87.55 cash.”

“Boris, would you open the petty cash box and pay the man?” Basil asked.

Boris opened the box, took the coins into his hand then placed them in his pocket. He stuffed the stack of bills in his other pocket, then turned the box upside down to show Basil.

“Is empty. No American dollars cash, see? You make money writing funny conservative Website. You have money. You pay man.”

Basil reached into his wallet and pulled out five twenties. “You got change?”

“Nope,” said the delivery man as he pocketed the money and left.

* * * *

Basil was explaining the project to Boris. “Harvey’s taken over the analytics. He’s looking to see what users are interested in, stuff we have and stuff we don’t.”

“Oh, that easy project. I do this in Moscow much.”

“Moscow?”

“Uh, Moscow is city in Florida. Is between Pensacola and Homestead. Can’t miss it. I work there two, three years ago. Trump A-number 1.”

Basil thought for a second. “Oh. Okay. Well, first thing we need to do is backup the database. Let me get you set up with a password to do backups.”

“No necessary. I find password. I make conservative Trump number one Website look happy.”

Basil smiled, “That’s great. I didn’t realize they had already hooked you up. I’m gonna go run some stuff by Harvey. Be right back.”

“You no hurry. I make happy good Website ready. And I lock door. Everything great. U-S-A.”

Basil nodded as he walked out the door, hearing the locks engage as Boris closed the door behind him.

* * * *

“What is it now?” Harvey asked as Basil appeared in his doorway.

“I just wanted to let you know we’re starting the backups before the upgrade. We’ll be done by end of the day.”

“You could’ve sent an email that said that.”

“Well, I knew you’d want to know how well it’s going,” Basil said.

Harvey’s phone rang. “This is Harvey. Yes. When? How long? Okay, I’m on it.”

Basil asked, “What’s up?”

“That was Frank. He’s not able to log in.” Harvey typed a few characters on his computer. “Me, neither. What did you do?”

“Uh. Boris is just making a backup. We should be okay. Let me log in and show you.” Basil pulled out his phone and he launched the app. “Huh. I can’t log in either. Let me request a password reset.” Basil punched a few characters in. “Huh. It can’t find my username. This isn’t good.”

Basil headed out the door with Harvey right behind him.

They approached the Supply Closet IT Department, but found the door still locked. Basil knocked. “Boris? We got a problem.”

A voice from inside rang out. “Is okay. Fixing now. Happy good soon. U-S-A number one!”

“I need you to open the door,” Harvey yelled.

“Trump A-OK,” replied Boris.

Harvey turned to Basil. “I gotta find the key. You stay here and see if you can get that door open. Hack the lock’s password or something. And don’t let this guy leave.” Harvey walked down the aisle back towards his office.

“C’mon Boris. Open up now!” Basil pleaded.

“Is okay. Everything good now soon. This happen in Tbilisi, in Georgia, when I work there.”

“Hey, I’m from Georgia. Tbilisi, huh? I never heard of that one. I bet it’s near Swainsboro. Or Vidalia. I ever tell you I used to work in Vidalia?”

“Almost fixing complete. Website work good well soon. U-S-A number one.”

“I knew the fellow that ran the radio station there. It was not far from Mt. Vernon, when I was at Brewton-Parker College. Then was some fun times.”

“Fun times soon. Website work good. I fix. Use the SQL, make update. You patient wait, okay? Yippee ki-yay mother…”

“Found it!” Harvey yelled, as he pushed the key into the lock. The door turned but only opened a little way as the chain engaged. “We gotta break this down. Put some of that weight behind it, why don’t you?”

Basil stepped back then he and Harvey launched their shoulders into the door, which gave way, causing them to crash onto the floor inside the small room.

“See you! Not want be you!” Boris yelled, as he ran out of the door and to the elevator.

Boris waved goodbye as he headed out the door.

Harvey stood up and brushed himself off, surveying the broken door. “That’s coming out of your paycheck.”

* * * *

Several hours later, everything was finally starting to work. They had access again, but there was still a chore in front of them. Harvey told Basil, “Let’s reset all the passwords for everyone. Make them use more punctuation marks. That’s standard procedure. We’re getting everything ready for the next big update anyway, so we might as well kill two birds.”

“Okay, Chief. I’ll take care of that. In fact, I asked the temp agency to send over someone to help ensure we got everything, and there are no traces of Boris left in the system.”

A knock on the door caused both Harvey and Basil to turn. A tall woman entered.

IMAO’s newest Tech Support member

She spoke, “I fix Website happy good, okay Darling? U-S-A number one!”

At 6:03 AM, May 1, 2019, on the 4th floor of the IMAO headquarters building, Basil had one thought uppermost in his mind: “I really gotta go pee.”

But first, one last thing. He scanned the page of text that displayed on his old refurbished CRT monitor, his eyes following his finger as it passed over the screen one last time. Satisfied, he pressed ENTER.

Finally, it was done. And, it didn’t take all that long to finish the job. Did it?

He pushed his bent metal folding chair away from the “desk” — actually a stack of plywood sheets placed across some cement blocks — and made his way to the door of the 4th floor supply room. He had originally been in the ground floor supply room, but had managed to move up to the 4th floor after the waterline break and all the shuffling around from that.

Basil turned the knob and pulled. Light from the hall showed through. That was good news. The large stack of boxes that had been piled up against the door the previous day had finally been moved. He’d be able to walk the halls this morning. But first, the business at hand. He stepped into the mensroom next door.

As he finished up and walked to the sink, the door opened and Harvey walked in.

“Hey, Chief,” Basil said, greeting the office manager.

“Hey … you,” Harvey replied. He thought, I know this guy, right? He cleans up the breakroom maybe? Or keeps the drink machine filled? Perhaps he’s the parking attendant? Does he have a name badge? Can I look without looking and read his name?

“I think I’m done, Chief,” Basil said.

Harvey nodded, wondering why this strange man was giving a play by play on his hand washing.

Basil stood there, not moving. So, Harvey checked his shirt, looked at his hair, made sure his beard was well groomed. He had done all those things before leaving for work, but was doing them all again so that the drink machine guy or whoever he was would go ahead and leave the mensroom. But that was not to be.

“So, heading back to work, huh?” Harvey hinted. Then a thought hit him. Perhaps this guy was the mensroom attendant. What if…?

“Actually …” Basil began, then paused. He thought back to when it all started, so long ago…

At 9:09 PM, September 23, 2008, Frank J. scanned the page of text displaying on his flat-screen monitor. Satisfied, he pressed ENTER and the first official post of the new blog was published.

He looked at his watch. “Oooh, it’s after 8:00. I hope the Dairy Queen is still open. I want to get a Mister Misty!”

“I don’t think they sell those anymore,” Harvey said.

“But I want one.”

“I’ll tell Sarah that you want to go out for a special treat. How’s that?”

“Goody!” Frank J. said. To himself, Frank J. thought “Yeah, he probably thinks I’m just a kid, but I’m running the show here. I don’t mind playing the fool. As long as I get a Mr. Misty.”

Harvey stood up, “I’ll break the news to that new fellow. What’s his name?”

“I don’t know. You hired him,” Frank J. replied.

“I didn’t hire him. I thought you hired him.”

“Huh. We need to look into that. Oh, and remember to get my keys back from him when he’s done,” Frank J. replied.

There were enough bloggers on staff now. A good crew. A very good crew. “They’ll all be around for a while,” Frank thought. “Except that this Harvey. I don’t think I trust him. He’s hiding something behind that beard. I wonder if he’s wanted by the F.B.I. Maybe he’s a C.I.A. agent or something? I need to ask Harvey about that, since he’s the only one I can trust.”

“What’s that?” Harvey asked.

“Nothing. Just talking to myself,” Frank J. replied.

“I’m right here and I can hear you when you speak,” Harvey said.

“Not if I’m talking to myself. At least, not without a warrant. You got a warrant?”

Harvey walked out the door and looked around. That new kid — he was actually older than all of them — was around somewhere. If only he could remember his name. Harvey walked down the hallway, past the line of cubicles, most of them unoccupied as it was past regular hours.

He turned just past the media center and pressed the “down” button next to the elevator. He heard the machinery through the closed doors as the car approached. The one on the right or the one on the left? Harvey stepped to the right just as the light came on and the “ding” sounded from the door on the left.

Dammit!

The door opened and Harvey stepped in. He pressed the “G” button to head down to the ground floor where the servers were housed. As the door closed and the music started, Harvey hummed along.

Tall and tan and young and lovely
The girl from Ipanema goes walking and
When she passes, each one she passes goes…

Ding! The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Harvey stepped out and headed down the wide hallway. He could hear the clinking and clanking from the cafeteria behind him, and the low hum from the server room ahead.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a movement. Turning, he came fact to face and eye to eye with the new guy.

“Um. Your name’s, um, yeah …,” Harvey started.

“Basil,” said Basil.

“It’s not Basil?” Harvey asked? Then a thought hit him. Imagine somebody actually trying to write this down one day. How would someone write the difference between “Basil” that rhymes with “Hazel” from “Basil” that rhymes with “dazzle?” Oh, well. This guy won’t be around long enough for it to matter.

“Hey, Basil…”

“Basil”

“Whatever. Hey. Um, Frank just posted that the blog is live. The changeover is complete. So, um …” Harvey paused, not sure how best to tell this odd person that he needed to drop the keys off at the front desk on his way out.

Basil spoke first. “I saw that! That’s exciting!”

“Uh, yeah.”

“So, we ready to bring over the old posts?”

“What?”

“The old posts. The URL now points to the new blog. The old blog’s address has changed, and now people have to click a different link to get to the old posts from 2002 to, well, earlier today, right? We need to bring them in to the new blog. Are we ready to start that?” Basil asked.

“Um. Yeah. Um. Uh-huh. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I want you to get started on that right away. Mkay?”

“Sure thing, Chief,” Basil said as he started back to the server room.

“Oh, you need to get your equipment out of the server room. Set it up in, um … um … that room.” Harvey pointed to the small door between the restrooms and next to the water fountain.

Basil stopped and turned, looking at Harvey. He cocked his head slightly to one side. “The supply closet? Seriously?”

“Look, it’s just for now…”

Basil ran back towards Harvey. “I get my very own room? With boxes of Co-Colas, tater chips, and Snickers bars? Really? Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Harvey backed away slowly. “O-kay. Uh, you go ahead and get started. Let me know when you’re done.”

“Sure thing, Chief.”

Basil didn’t realize it, but that was 10 years, 7 months, and 9 days ago. He had copied over 10,160 posts and 173,772 comments. But a lot of those comments were spam. And a lot of those comments contained language that was …

“Actually what?” Harvey spoke, breaking the silence.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You said ‘Actually’ then you stopped, like you had gone into a flashback or something,” Harvey said.

“Oh, yeah. Well, I’ve finished up moving over the old posts and comments.”

Harvey blinked twice. “What are you talking about?”

Basil hesitated. “You remember when we launched the new blog?”

“That was 10, 10-1/2 years ago. What of it?”

“You told me to bring over the old posts and comments,” Basil said.

Harvey paused again. “You haven’t finished that yet?” He shook his head and walked out the door, turning down the hall to his office.

Basil followed behind. “It’s done now, Chief.”

“Did you clean out all the spam?”

“Uh, yeah? Maybe? I think?”

“Did you clean up the language? Some of those early comments contained the F-word,” Harvey said.

“Flapjacks? We call them pancakes in Georgia. I didn’t see them mentioned.”

Harvey sighed. “Did you make the comments PG-13? We’ve got a standard to maintain,” Harvey explained.

“Yeah, they’re all good now. Maybe. Most of them. A lot of them. Some of them. But there aren’t a lot of naughty words. I mean, I took out all the bad ones I knew. So, you won’t find any posts containing …” Basil paused, leaned in, and whispered, “… booger.”

“Okay, good job. And it only took you 10 years, huh?” Harvey arrived at his office, opened the door and the light came on. He stepped over to his desk and looked back at the door. Basil was standing right there.

Basil spoke, “You’re welcome. Oh, and are we going to announce to the readers that the old posts are there?”

Harvey hesitated, “It’s not really that big of a deal. It’s been 10 years. Most of the stuff from those days will contain outdated references. Nobody is really going to care.”

It suddenly hit Basil. “Wait. What? 10 years? I’ve been in that supply closet for 10 years?”

“Seems that way. Well, you did come out to keep the drink and snack machines stocked, but apart from that, yeah, I suppose you’be been in there all this time. Hmmm.”

Basil thought for a minute. “So the election is over? Did McCain win?”

“You need to sit down.”

“Well, anyway, that Obama clown said he was bringing the troops home from the Middle East. So that happened, right?”

“You need to sit down.”

“Did Fred Thompson run again?”

“You need to sit down.”

“Well, who won the last election?”

“You really need to sit down.”

Basil decided he didn’t want to ask any more questions that he probably didn’t want the answer to. “No, I just need to give you my invoice and pick up my check. Let’s see, that’s 8,873 days of work. Here you go.” Basil handed the invoice to his boss.

Harvey looked at the bottom line. “I need to sit down.”