Everyone has their blind spots -- things that seemingly everyone else in the world already knew, but that they themselves were ignorant of. Over the last week, I filled in one of mine: the Corn Chip Issue. It's a really simple one with a very obvious solution: never buy off-the-shelf corn chips. Fritos, Doritos, and Tostitos are but a pale, flavorless imitation of something you can prepare at home for a small fraction of the money. Somehow, I never realized that all that you need to make tasty, crispy chips that rival the ones you get as appetizers at Mexican restaurants is a 99 cent bag of tortillas from the supermarket and a pot of hot oil. Slice the tortillas into wedges, drop them in hot oil for a couple of minutes, drain them on paper towels and salt lightly. Serve with salsa. That's all it takes. Really, it couldn't be simpler. Somehow I made it through decades without anyone telling me. In case your friends have likewise left you in the dark, I'm blogging it.
Fortune’s Rules for Memo Wars: #2
Given the incredible advances in sociocybernetics and telepsychology over
the last few years, we are now able to completely understand everything that
the author of an memo is trying to say. Thanks to modern developments
in electrocommunications like notes, vnews, and electricity, we have an
incredible level of interunderstanding the likes of which civilization has
never known. Thus, the possibility of your misinterpreting someone else’s
memo is practically nil. Knowing this, anyone who accuses you of having
done so is a liar, and should be treated accordingly. If you *do* understand
the memo in question, but have absolutely nothing of substance to say, then
you have an excellent opportunity for a vicious ad hominem attack. In fact,
the only *inappropriate* times for an ad hominem attack are as follows:
1: When you agree completely with the author of an memo.
2: When the author of the original memo is much bigger than you are.
3: When replying to one of your own memos.