The Weiner Screener: A Device to Prevent Computer or Mobile Access to Social Media While A Politician – The Golden Parachute Continues!



















Here are Week 28 @Twitstery tweets of “The Golden Parachute” the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance

I see a tiny sliver of water. “Why are the MegaDorms built lengthwise toward the beach? No one inside has a view.”

The six MegaDorms sprawl across the lower campus in a apparent parody of Le Corbusier’s Plan Voisin for Paris, but without thought or charm.

On a sheer precipice beyond the final MegaDorm, a quaint village of classrooms, administrative and lab buildings basks in the Caribbean sun.

Each dorm faces another dorm rather than an ocean view. Stacy says “The University has to provide housing for every the student they admit.”

“Yes. Mary Kwitecontrari told me if not for MegaDorm income, the medical school wouldn’t be for-profit.” “I don’t know anything about that.”

“Don’t students complain about coming to the Caribbean and having no ocean view?” “This isn’t a beach resort. They come for the education.”

“A Caribbean MD is good enough for me! Any chance I can contact a student I know?” “I’ll see if they can spare someone to show you around.”

Stacy goes into the guardhouse. David is still there, leaning against his jeep. I say “I’m fine. You can take off.” “I got your back, boss.”

“I don’t want you to get my back. I want you to get going.” “We’ll see.” “You heard what we said?” “Yeah, way too much architecture for me.”

“They paved paradise and put up MegaDorms.” “Wait ’til you see the Mega lecture hall.” Stacy returns. “A student will show you around.”

She hands me an ID badge. “Always keep that on you. You can’t be on campus without it.” She turns to David. “YOU can’t be on campus at all.”

Unmoved, David smiles. He is beyond school property. Stacy can only frown. I ask “Not that I care, but what did he do?” “What didn’t he do?”

“First, he made fun of the Chancellor’s milk guzzling.” “Umm.” “And he ridiculed his ADHD.” “Oh.” “Then he mocked the school accountants.”

“And, despite repeated warnings to stay away from campus, he keeps showing up. We couldn’t make him stay away. So we made him a Dean.”

“What did he do as Dean?” “He had the great idea to hold a huge beach party for our students after exams. It became a regular school blast.”

“The administration even provided alcohol.” “What went wrong?” “How about thousands of med student twenty-somethings on drunken rampages?”

I ask “Encouraging your stressed out med students to party hardy? You didn’t think anything could go wrong?” “That’s not why he’s banned.”

“Faculty and administrators partied too?” Stacy smiles at me. “Ya think? Events finally forced them to step in and be party poopers.”

“What changed their minds?” She glares at David. “Someone had the bright idea to combine our post-exam Hellzapoppin with Parent Visitation.”

“David was the driving force behind this part of it. We later found out he also ran illegal booze from Puerto Rico in his air taxi.”

David says “Seemed a good idea at the time.” I ask Stacy “You saw this happen?” “I was Dean of Students then. Now I’m a security guard.”

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)


Where’s the Beach? – The Golden Parachute Continues!

Here are Week 27 @Twitstery tweets of “The Golden Parachute” the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance

“The road is in such bad shape you can’t go there in a jeep?” David shrugs. “I’m not allowed to drive on campus. I’ll drop you by the gate.”

“Do I want to know why you’re not allowed on campus?” ‘Let’s just say the school is cracking down on students’ extracurricular activities.”

We bounce along the narrow road over potholes, exposed gratings and other imperfections. Around us houses paint the hills in pastel shades.

There’s a green one and a pink one and a blue one and a yellow one. We ticky-tack past and drive up to a guard post at the campus entrance.

David says “This is where we part company.” I want to get out and kiss the ground. I won’t give him that satisfaction. “What do I owe you?”

Showing the meter he says “Double that.” Again I hand over a wad of bills. “Dollars, huh? Anything local?” “No.” He passes me local change.

“If you need a ride or flight or cruise, my number’s on that card I gave you.” “Not likely.” “OK. I’ll be here.” “No, seriously, get lost.”

David just stands there. I turn to the gate attendant. “Are you together?” she says “He can’t come in here.” “We’re not together.” I reply.

The med campus entrance stands atop a peninsula at the island’s southern end. Four or five huge dormitory complexes block any ocean view.

The dorms are pastel neo-Georgian with tile roofs. Similar smaller buildings crown a rise across campus. “Can I help you?” says the guard.

I don’t want to tell the guard that I was hired to find Regi Granger by the ghostly doppelgänger of her late father. I have to think fast.

“Do you know where I can find the Bob Marley School of Medicine?” She laughs. “You’ve found it. But we don’t call it that officially.” “Ah.”

“Someone is pulling your leg.” I look at the digital signage. “It says ‘Bob Marley School of Medicine’ on that sign there.” “Yes. It does.”

“You aren’t Bob Marley?” “No. My name is Stacy.” “I mean the name of the school.” “We changed it to ‘Harvard Medical of the Caribbean’.”

“Then Harvard Medical stateside threatened legal action.” I check Stacey’s badge and sure enough it says ‘Bob Marley School of Medicine.’

“The Bob Marley sign is just to fool the Crimson Tide. We go by HMC.” “Crimson Tide? That’s Alabama.” “Whatever.” Someone IS pulling my leg.

I decide to play along. “I had a drink with your Chancellor. He suggested I stop by when I was in the neighborhood.” Stacy looks me over.

“You’re not dressed for the climate.” After my voyages with David, my clothing is a lot worse for wear. “Don’t worry. I can take the heat.”

“Take the heat? You’re sweating through your pants. At least, I think that’s sweat.” David guffaws. “We flew too low. I got wet.” “Uh huh.”

Time to change the subject. I look over a campus crowded with as many buildings as an urban college. I say “Nice layout. Where’s the ocean?”

Stacy points to two structures. “Do you see MegaDorms 3 and 4 at the bottom of the hill? You can see the ocean in that gap between them.”

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

The Human/Monkey/Banana Connection – The Golden Parachute Continues!

Here are Week 26 @Twitstery tweets of “The Golden Parachute” the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance

“Naturally. And what happens if you put an infinite number of monkeys on an infinite number of golf courses?” “They just monkey around?”

“They make all the great shots.” “That’s medical research?” “I hear the school uses monkey cage space stats to recruit superstar faculty.”

“Huh?” “On top of salary, the medical school offers new hires monkey cages.” “They come teach for golfing monkeys?” “Par for the courses.”

We pass a clearing where a waterfall tumbles into a clear pool. A monkey tees off, someone shouts “Fore!” and the ball flies over our heads.

“Which came first, the golfing monkeys or the banana plantations?” “The plantations were an afterthought when some monkeys got loose.”

“The Marleys is so far down here in the Caribbean they need hiring incentives.” “The Marleys?” “Yeah. That’s what students call the school.”

“Short for Bob Marley School of Medicine.” “They’re into Reggae here?” “Among other things.” A golf ball bounces off the side of the jeep.

I begin to see how the jeep got all the dings and dents. “So monkey cages help catch faculty superstars?” “They don’t come for the climate.”

David says “Did you know monkeys and humans are nearly identical genetically?” “Oh?” “And about 50% of human and banana DNA is the same.”

A Monkey/Man/Banana DNA link? If I understand correctly, monkeys are our close relations and humans are half bananas. The notion has appeal.

A golf ball whizzes through my side of the jeep, nicks my nose and continues out the other side. OUCH! “Don’t roll up the window” David says

“Better to get hit by a golf ball than broken glass.” I rub my nose. “Can you go faster?” “OK. Buckle up.” I realize what I’ve said. “WAIT!”

Thump! Another mulligan by monkeys who have gone from swinging branches to swinging golf clubs. Thump! David hits the gas and we take off.

We fly down the narrow, twisting track all Toad of Toad Hall. At the jungle edge the road drops abruptly and the jeep is truly airborne.

“LOWER THE JEEP! LOWER THE JEEP!” I shout. “WHAT?” David replies. “YOU’RE DRIVING TOO HIGH!” We hit the road hard, bounce and continue on.

“What does ‘Lower the jeep’ mean?” David asks. “YOU ARE A HACK DRIVER!” “True. Next time you should say ‘YEE-HAH!'” “DON’T DO THAT AGAIN!”

We leave the mountain golf path and drive through a busy industrial sector. In my dark jacket and tie I’m ill-suited for the Caribbean heat.

I ask “For future reference, do you own a boat I should avoid hiring?” “I have a water taxi business back in the states.” “Good to know.”

We sail along the smooth four-laner in a uneasy silence. After a time, we reach a turning point. “We can’t go on like this.” David says.

We reach a crossroads. An ill-paved path leads away from road. I say “Can’t go on what way?” “On the highway. The campus is down this road.”

After our time fast driving on the wrong side of the highway, the side road looks fine to me. “Let’s go.” “I can’t take my jeep there.”


(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

Monkeys Playing Golf? – The Golden Parachute Continues!

Here are Week 25 @Twitstery tweets of “The Golden Parachute” the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance

“I told you to put on those headphones when you came aboard.” Headphones had been there all along! I feel like I squandered all my capitals.

Confronted with the obvious, I leap to my defense. “YOU ARE A HACK PILOT!” “True.” “THAT FLIGHT WAS ABYSMAL!” “It had its ups and downs.”

“I WILL NEVER FLY WITH YOU AGAIN!” “No hard feelings. Here’s your tab.” “THIS IS DOUBLE THE METER!” “Standard policy. I have to fly back.”

“SO I PAY FOR A RETURN FLIGHT EVEN IF I DON’T USE IT?” “You realize you’re shouting? You don’t need the headphones now.” I take them off.

“It was in the fine print on the agreement you signed.” I pull a wad of bills out of my pocket. “Here. Get lost.” He remains where he is.

We’re in an empty airfield with dense jungle beyond. “How do I get to the campus?” “Funny you should ask.” David disappears into the hanger.

He appears driving a yellow jeep. “Island Taxi mister?” “Seriously?” “You can ride with me or foot it.” “Seriously?” “You keep saying that.”

He is sitting in the jeep’s passenger seat. If his plane weren’t still parked on the airstrip, I would swear he just tore off its wings.

A teen when I first rode a monster rollercoaster, I expected the heart-stopping plummets but not gut wrenching rolls and upside-down twists.

Wait. I already tweeted that. After our aerial experience, how bad could an island taxi ride be? “Let’s do this” “Sign here.” “What’s this?”

“A covenant for our drive time releasing me from all liability.” “Seriously?” “You keep saying that. My card.” I wonder if it’s a long walk.

The card reads “David’s Island Taxi Service and Storm Door Co.” On back is a photo of his jeep, a dinged yellow taxi:

“We got a deal?” I consider my options. Walk down the mountain and find Regi’s med school by myself, or ride the island taxi. “How much?”

“On the meter. You coming back?” “I wouldn’t fly again with you if you were the last pilot on earth.” “The regular flight is next Saturday.”

“I thought other airlines won’t fly here.” “From Puerto Rico. The flight will come from Bermuda.” “We’ll be on it. Just get me to campus.”

I sign the contract and climb aboard the jeep. “Why am I in the driver’s seat? Where’s the wheel?” “They drive British style. I’m driving.”

“British style?” “Everyone drives on the wrong side of the road.” “This road has one lane.” “I’m driving on the wrong side of the lane.”

The single lane slows our progress considerably. Along the road are banana plantations, waterfalls and golf courses.

Sometimes we see monkeys with bananas. “Are monkeys native here?” “No, they were brought in for med school research.”

Sometimes we see monkeys golfing.  MONKEYS GOLFING? “Umm, do you know what kind of med school research they’re doing?”

“Sure! What happens if you put an infinite number of monkeys in front of an infinite number of word processors?” “They write Great Books?”

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)