Hitler brand ice cream

Hitler tips his hat, angrily

Hitler tips his Uncle Sam style swastika hat, angrily. He hates you, but he sells ice cream if you dare eat it.  via

In India they have Hitler ice cream.

The business professor came into class, sat his books down and stared at his students. He waited a few moments, then said, in a loud and clear voice, “The first rule in business is never name your product line after Hitler.”
One of the students was incredulous. “Is this something that really has to be taught?”
The business professor looked to the side sardonically.

Another student asked, “What if it’s really clever?”
Another student asked, “What if the art is really great? I mean really really great?”
A third student said, “What if it’s ice cream? Or some sort of candy treat?”
The business professor stood for a moment silently, dumbstruck. He did not know what to say.

The ice cream CEO came into the board room and slammed his hand on the desk. “I need this ice cream to be the most delicious ice cream that has ever been eaten by man! I need it to be so good we could get away with putting Hitler on the package! I don’t think I’m asking too much here.”


What is good

Flipped through a marketing book. I don’t have much love for either marketing or self-help books. I always marvel at how they take so many pages to say so little. Once I skimmed through a book filled with “information” and condensed it down to two pages. Sprinkled over 300 odd pages were two pages of useful information.

Anyway, the marketing book said this:

(and I am paraphrasing it better than they did)

“In todays world to be mediocre is to be good, to be competent is to be astounding beyond comprehension.”

I had a friend who wrote a philosophy textbook he wanted me to read over before it was printed. It was called “What is Good.” I think he would have enjoyed that little soundbite. Not the book I gleaned it from.


Searches at the Spaceport

At the end of every space mission the astronauts are debriefed. If they are clear of any space fungus their pants are then returned to them.
Referring to the invasive space fungus as “space mushrooms” is completely inaccurate. A sentient fungus which loves pants is no mushroom.

I was promised a moon colony, a Mars colony, and a one world government.
And instead of this, every time I reenter Earth’s jurisdiction, even after only leaving for a day or two, I have to surrender my pants.

It is sad that this is the only thing the governments of Earth cooperate on. The continual harassment of those who explore space.
I tell you, it makes the space fungus seem reasonable. For what have they ever done to us? Other than seek warmth?