Created electronically; printed; distributed to 100 employees; they all
read it; 50 pitch it and 50 file it; 25 send it to storage in their
files; your staff copies it and stores one; has the original filmed;
file the film - 2 copies; retrieve the film; print that document to
paper again; copy it - make numerous copies; then have it imaged into
your ERMS.  If we go round the rosie enough we can have a self
sustainable profession!  And hire lots of paper-pusher staff, and keep
them busy!

Doug, you are skating on thin ice.  You will giggle all evening long,
and go to bed happy; "I got that dadgummed S. Whitaker, CRM; thinks he's
so damn smart!"   At 3AM in his subconscious mind ... , yes mind..., 
Doug hears a stealthy growl but his conscious self rises no higher than
REM sleep; so happy is he in his blissful sleep; he sees ream after ream
of beautiful paper jumping over 4-drawer file cabinets.  He does not
know that a red 1957 Plymouth Fury stalks his neighborhood; waiting its
chance.  At 5AM, Doug rises; rested after dreaming of paper all night
and knowing he got in the last word on Whitaker; and knowing that Whit
is in Pacific time zone and the majority of RIM listserv folks are in
Eastern and Central time zone with little chance of reading any further 
reply until Monday.  As he lets the little yapper out the side door;
Doug walks to the curb in his footed jammies to find the newspaper; eyes
still filled with sand.  Rubbing his sleepy eyes and not yet ready to
focus, he sees not the stealthy '57 Fury sliding up from the shadows. 
Listening to the little yapper barking at the neighbor's birdbath, Doug
thinks "the little mutt cannot live forever."  Distracted, only too late
does Doug hear the snarl of the 361 cubic inch wedge block Fury as it
bears down on him with vicious quickness; ... CHRISTINE STRIKES!!!      
Pinned under the car; Doug cannot breathe; he now hears the rapid beat
of his heart and the low thump and growl of the idling Plymouth.  Slowly
and surreptiously a melody washes over his still body; steadily
increasing in volume and tempo...; "you hear me knockin' but you can't
come in."  He recognizes the Little Richard song from the dusty recesses
of his rapidly fading memory.   He gasps for air, and grasps for
understanding of what is happening to him.  Then he remembers, he dissed
Mr. Whitaker on Friday, and then he giggled about it.  Whit was talking
about his old cars, or something like that.  Oh yea, Whit had a couple
of MoPars in his youth.  Could this be?  No, NO, NO, NO.  With his last
breath and conscious thought, he hears bob Dylan from Christine's
8-track tape deck and 4 speakers...; "'There must be some way out of
here,' said the Joker to the Thief."


Well, about Miller Time!


Best regards, Steve
Steven D. Whitaker, CRM
Records Systems Manager; City of Reno

>>> [log in to unmask] 5/11/2007 2:59 PM >>>
I KNOW that I'm "asking for trouble" from the esteemed Mr. Whittaker,
but I can't resist saying.......


"I love paper, especially when I get to have my folks scan it the
second
time, after it has re-circulated in its life back to a new
file....with
much of the same old paper inside."

Now I'm going to go run off so that I don't have to read the reply!!!!

Douglas P. Allen, CRM, CDIA+

List archives at http://lists.ufl.edu/archives/recmgmt-l.html 
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List archives at http://lists.ufl.edu/archives/recmgmt-l.html
Contact [log in to unmask] for assistance