No! It's my opinion that counts, Meine Führer.

Tales of the Jellybeast are running amok today but a particular highlight is captured here for all to see. In fact, his antics today have been so absurd that he has even surpassed satirical comedy. The subject of todays blog is Quiverlard's gross self importance. A brief discussion between myself and Sugarsphere ended with one of the most absurd statements made since the fall of the Nazi German empire. Allow me to elaborate.

Man o' Trifle's usual appointment this time was a small group of students who needed help and advice in creating a poster. They sat with him watching & listening as he created the poster before them. As he neared completion of the poster he turned to me asked me to show the students an example of a similar poster I had designed for a previous group. I opened it in front of the students who were all mightily impressed with the clarity and layout and creative input I had had in the design of the artwork. Unfortunately Chunksyrup wasn't as impressed and scowled at the screen like a dog who'd had it's food whipped from under it's nose, or more accurately; a vampire who had witnessed a new dawn.

After profusely spitting all over his desktop and besmirching my clients poster for a solid 5 minutes, Wigglechops demanded modifications to the design. It was then that I realised that for all his screeching and copious drooling he actually said nothing of any constructive purposeful use, but merely regurgitated the majority of his last 'snack' over his monitor. I started to laugh with befuddlement and exclaimed:
"But the customer is entitled to have the poster they want, surely I am here to help them achieve what THEY want, not what I want. It is the customers opinion which counts the most and I advise as best I can".
Not only did this feeble attempt at a logical and customer-care-based explanation fall on deaf ears but it has now widely been regarded as a bad move. Seething and sweaty with finger a-pointing, he spat:
'NO! It's my opinion that counts! I don't print sh*t, if it's sh*t, I don't deal with it. I'm not putting my reputation on the line printing that, tell them it's sh*t and change it'.
Shaking my head and laughing with merriment at the mortified faces of the customers sat next to him, I closed the file down and continued with my previous job.

Reputation? If only he'd realise that his 'reputation' is that of Adolf Hitler; I'm sure he'd wish it damaged beyond repair, destroyed and annihilated, obliterated; or so you'd think. It appears that he is so deeply warped and out-of-touch with society, life, and even his job role, that his infallible 'opinions' are obviously linked to a deep sugar-induced (probably) psychosis from which he suffers daily. God help him.

Later --
This could be a new entry but I'll keep it short. Unbelievably Wigglebutter, after gorging on yet another 'snack', scanned the room for customers and then slurred disappointingly:
'It appears no-one wants my services'.
Did he clear the room with his outburst? Do they deliberately avoid him? It's as if the entire 'Nazi-esque' outburst of yester-hour was a staged act. It might have even been rehearsed. What are we to do? Hitler shot himself but that might be a bit much to ask for as we don't have any silver bullets nor anything big and powerful enough to penetrate his fat loaf. I suppose we'll just have to put up with it... for now.