The French Disconnection - The Golden Parachute Continues!

Here are Week 18 @Twitstery tweets of "The Golden Parachute" the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance

But what possible link could there be between a poorly run medical school, Chinese manipulation of rare earth metals and corn shortages?

Or the school, Icelandic volcano eruptions, Hurricane Sandy and the 03 eastern power outage? I'd better ignore their warnings and go myself.

I pay for gas, two Taquitos and a Big Gulp. Gas for now, gas for the road, gas for later. By the time I return to the pump, my car is gone.

Stranded at 7-Eleven in the middle of nowhere, I stare at the empty space by the pump. Looks like I'm going to need more than two Taquitos.

The car thief could be miles away by now. I regret that I filled up my tank. I take a bite from one of my Taquitos. I regret doing that.

Is a carjacking part of an attempt to intimidate and delay? Could the medical school principals I just left have arranged this so quickly?

Auto alone, a gentle breeze caresses my face. Wait. A breeze. I realize what happened. I had left my wind-powered hybrid's sails unfurled.

With a favoring breeze, my car could be miles away by now. I regret I left my sails up. I take a draw from my Big Gulp. I regret doing that.

Brain freeze! As I straighten up again I spot my car behind 7-11, slammed up against the store's dumpster. It had been there the whole time.

I check the dumpster for clues and my car for scratches. Negative, both. I leave my remaining food and drink in the trash and head for town.

Driving the lonesome highway I reflect on the case so far. Regi Granger is missing classes at a medical school led by an ADHD Chancellor.

Perhaps more troubling, the tongue-tied director of admissions has a faulty memory and the junior accountant CEO can't account for anything.

I'm halfway back to the city when I realize I'm being followed. It's hard to miss the small gray Honda with the Zipcar logo on each door.

I swerve onto an off-ramp and the Honda sails on past.  Mission accomplished. 45 minutes later I find the on-ramp back to the highway.

Before I've gone far the Zipcar is behind me again. It appears there's only one way to lose my pursuer: A high-speed chase through traffic.

I step on my accelerator, weave in and out of traffic blasting my car horn. I'm sideswiped by a yellow Ford Fairlane but I don't slow down.

I hit a truck turning left and swerve into oncoming traffic. My car spins around narrowly missing a bus. I hit the brake and speed up again.

Oh my God! Where in hell did that woman with the baby carriage come from? I yank my car hard right and plow into a pile of box garbage.

Missing mother and child, I keep going. I screech to a stop and bolt up the stairs. The train surges through the station without stopping.

Cursing, I go on. Horn blaring, pounding on my steering wheel, I challenge traffic and pedestrians alike. So far no one has been killed.

I stop at the next station and stagger to the entrance. Nicoli is descending the steps. I yell "Hold it!" He turns to escape and I fire.

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

With a Nod to Walt Kelly's "Pogo" - The Golden Parachute Continues!

Here are Week 17 @Twitstery tweets of "The Golden Parachute" the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance

"I don't know what you're talking about." "You weren't good enough for a partnership at one of the Big Four firms, so you wound up here."

Jon grabs my shoulders "You got me all wrong Copper. I could've been a partner, see? I could've been somebody!" I brush him off "Really?"

"Look around you. VP at a not-yet-profitable for-profit medical school and here you are roughing up a nosy shyster in a milk and sugar bar."

"Is this the exciting, rewarding career in accounting you dreamed about? Could you sink any lower?" Jon glances at the recumbent Chancellor.

"You are all GAAP technique without substance, turned into the joke of the man who is made into a robot." "I don't know that one." I smile.

"What did the mechanical man say when they stuck a key in his ass?" "What?" "'I never thought I'd wind up like this!'" Lenny starts to cry.

"I get that." Lenny says sobbing. Jon steps back. "You got it wrong. I came onboard to make the tough decisions and set this school right."

"Looks to me like you took the easy way out." "Firing people is hard!" "Not as hard as saving livelihoods and managing a business for real."

Mary says "Whatever. I'm hungry. I 'd like to have a little lamb." She tries lifting the Chancellor who topples backwards into Jon's arms.

They carry the him out. I'm left to pay the milk bill. On the bar my own glass remains untouched. I pour in sugar and take a sip. Not bad!

Now I'm sleepy. What a duplicitous case! I've gone from double-dealing with a dead man to second-guessing two medical school pencil pushers.

And with a pair of yoyos like Mary and the Chancellor running things, I worry about Regi's health. I must get on-island pronto.

The Chancellor warned me off, but danger is mother's milk to me. I take the ticket off my windshield and toss it in my glove compartment.

Mary warned me off, but don't I don't think we share compatible signs. I remove the car boot from my left rear tire and toss it in my trunk.

The accountants warned me off but their threats don’t add up. I take my car off cinder blocks, replace the tires and get in. I'm out of gas.

Fortunately, my car is a wind power hybrid, so I hoist sails and, thanks to an off-shore breeze, I make it to the gas station on the corner.

As the 7-Eleven attendant hands me my receipt he warns me to stay away from the island but not about the taquitos. I begin to see a pattern.

I have a hunch no one wants me showing up in person, prying into dark secrets they are hiding on that campus or in that convenience store.

Granted there are logistical problems running an off-shore medical institution. I suspect the Chancellor's school has stepped across a line.

I'm just looking for Regi Granger. Don’t they realize that this overreaction to my inquiries just fuels my curiousity and my determination?

Granger's doppelgänger said Regi masqueraded as a Caribbean medical student to investigate the shortages and outages happening stateside.

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

No Medieval Scenes of Gratuitous Torture, or Dragons! - The Golden Parachute Continues!

Here are Week 16 @Twitstery tweets of "The Golden Parachute" the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance

"What is your problem Arkaby? Except for the hurricanes and an occasional military coup there's nothing irregular going on at my school."

Mary leans in. "He's telling the truth. We're no different than any other for-profit educational institution, if you leave out the profit."

"There aren't many medical schools in the Bermuda Triangle." "Our school isn't technically in the Triangle. Let's just say we're nearby."

"Have you seen anyone Grangeresque or not?" The Chancellor puts his head back down on the counter. "Didn't see him." He begins to snore.

Mary asks "Where did you see this dead Granger person?" "He or his doppelGränger came to my office and offered me $50,000 to find Regi."

"DoppelGränger? You doppel-deal and then have the pair to criticize us?" "There's no duplicity on my parts. I will find Regi as I promised."

"And then I'll save the world, with or without your help." "Without, I think." I look at the sleeping Chancellor. "May not be a big loss."

"How does he manage to run a medical school?" "Mostly by laissez-faire. We deans do whatever we want and only go to him to settle conflcts."

Two burly characters enter the room and come over to the bar. "Is this the guy?" one of them asks Mary. "Yes. He's looking for trouble."

"No, I'm looking for a girl. Who are you?" "Accountants, here to clean up the books." "Uh huh. You look like a pair of number crunchers."

"Do you guys have names or just tax ID numbers?" "They don't matter. Your name is mud." "I do work dirt cheap. I have one question for you."

"What is the person graduating last in an accounting class called?" "What?" "A no-account." Midsnore the Chancellor says "I don't get it."

The first accountant turns to his partner. "Hey Lenny, this guy's funny." "I don't get it either" "No, really. He's got a sense of humor."

"Let's take him outside and teach him how to deliver a punch line." "You two wouldn't know a good punch line if it hit you in the face."

He comes up to my face. "I wouldn't bet my LIFO on it." I smile. "Tell me. Is 'humorous accountant' an oxymoron or are you a regular kind?"

Lenny says "Jon, I don’t get that one either." Jon must be the other accountant. He says "Doesn't matter. It wasn't that funny this time."

What's wrong with these people? First the Dean of Admissions gives me the silent treatment, then the Chief Executive ODs on dolce de leche.

Now these accounting bozos want to school me in comedic pugilism. I better find out if they seek a soft trial balance or a hard final close.

I say to Jon " You were bullied when you were a kid, right? That's why you became an accountant, so you could be the bully and fire people."

"I get it . With no real abilities and little intelligence, Generally Accepted Accounting Principles let you be someone, make a difference."

I gesture toward the sleeping Chancellor. "You don't realize people like him hire you to do their dirty work while they reap the benefits."

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

How Long Can I Milk This Bar Scene? - The Golden Parachute Continues!

Here are Week 15 @Twitstery tweets of "The Golden Parachute" the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance

He has a father. That answers my next question. "Home computers were coming online. What if you could earn a college degree by computer?"

"My Dad thought the idea was crazy. 'Those computers are just toys.'" he said. "'Nobody learns anything on a computer.' So he killed it."

"Dad said, 'If you want to make a lot of money why not start a medical school in the Caribbean? Costs are cheap and the weather is better.'"

"Here was an great opportunity. U.S. schools don't provide enough openings to meet the demand for new doctors. I could fill that void."

"All made possible by free-flowing student loan money which our school never has to account for. I probably shouldn't have told you that."

The Chancellor's words are slurred. His head begins to nod. "Charly!" he mumbles "Pump me another!" "I think you've had enough." says Mary.

"I'm awake I'm awake! I run the finest medical school in the Caribbean and I'll fight anyone who says otherwise." "Is he for real?" I ask.

Mary dismisses the barkeep. "Sometimes he milks a point. He's fine. The school's fine." "What about the problems you mentioned before?"

"I mentioned no problems." "Well, you signed them." "No I didn't." "Firing older employees? Running out of money? Scaring off investors?"

"Students cheating to get their MDs? General mismanagement?" "I don't know what you're talking about." Why is she denying our conversation?

"Look, I don't give a damn about your medical school malpractice or your silenced stateside support staff. I'm looking for Regi Granger."

The Chancellor lifts his head up from the raw milk puddle on the bar. "Granger? Is he still dead?" Oh ho! Does he know the doppelgänger?

Something's rotten in the state of Denmark. Or is the man sprawling next to me presenting a low lactose tolerance? I need to find Regi fast.

I yank the Chancellor upright by his lapels. "You stinking milksop! Where is Regi Granger?" "I don't know nothing about Willum Granger."

"Regi! The best odds say Willum Granger is dead. I'm looking for Regi Granger!" "Let go of me!" "Not until you give me some answers I like."

"You won't find any Granger dead or alive at my medical school." "I don't like that answer." "OK. How about this one. She's perfectly fine."

"I like that better but I don't believe you. Have you seen a lifelike Granger double walking around?" The Chancellor shrinks back in horror.

Now he grabs my lapels. In a slurred whisper he says "You saw him too? I thought he was a tryptophan-induced hallucination." "Let go of me!"

"Not until you give me some answers I like." A baseball bat crashes down on the bar beside us. "Take it outside you two" says the barkeep.

I say "Is that your enforcer or are you glad to see me?" She glares at me. The Chancellor blocks my exit. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Looks like I'm attending medical school." "Set one foot on my island and you'll regret it." "Thanks for the heads up. I'll take both feet."

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

It Was the Worst of Tweets, It Was the Best of Tweets - The Golden Parachute Continues!

Here are Week 14 @Twitstery tweets of "The Golden Parachute" the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance

The rag she wipes the bar with reeks of sour milk. Not a place for the squeamish or the lactose intolerant. Why does Mary want to meet here?

Time for a different angle. "Sweet gig you got here. Get much traffic?" "Mostly insomniacs and ulcer sufferers. Some non-lactating mothers."

At this moment Mary enters with a George Raft lookalike. "Set up two raw Charly" he says "with turbinado chasers." "Right away Chancellor."

"Who's the stiff?" I ask. "She's the Dean of Admissions" the Chancellor says. I say "How about she starts making some admissions right now?"

"Why do you think she spoke to you in the first place?" "She barely spoke to me at all!" He takes the seat next to me as the milk arrives.

Pouring sugar into his milk, he drinks it down. "Ah!" he exclaims "Milk, raw the way God intended it!" I ask the barkeep "What type is he?"

The Chancellor answers my question. "Charly, pump me another. I've been up for days, my stomach is killing me and my breasts are sore!"

That narrows it down. Mary hasn't touched her own drink. I guess she's none of the above. "So you’re the guy looking for what's-her-name."

"What's her name is Regi. The way you suck milk, you're obviously used to being kowtowed to. Are you really Chancellor or what's your name?"

"That's utter bulls%$t!" he replies. "OK Udder. You may be the boss, but I kowtow to no man. Why was Mary quite contrary about Regi's name?"

He glares at Mary who turns abruptly and knocks over her glass. Raw milk spreads across the bar. Tears run down the Chancellor's cheeks.

"There's no use crying." I turn to Mary "What's with this character?" "It's not the spilt milk." she says "He's used to getting his whey."

"Here you go Chancellor." says the barkeep handing him a glass of milk. "Sorry about the delay." He raises the glass and drinks it down.

"Ah!" he exclaims "Milk, raw the way God intended it!" Huh? Déjà moo? Or have I just experienced a time shift as per Granger's doppelgänger?

I check my tweets. Silent movies. American signing. Sweet Milk. Everything's here. So how do I explain the Chancellor's redundant behavior?

He turns to me. "Sorry. It's my ADHD. My mind leaps from place to place." "Too bad. Do you know how you contracted it?" "Contracted what?"

"AIDS. Was it a tainted blood transfusion or did you get it from your partner?" "I have Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder not AIDS."

"ADHD?" "Yes. That's why I we didn't meet at the office. I don't have patience to finish a sign conversation." "Or anything else" says Mary.

"No patience? How did you end up head of a Med School?" "A funny story. Thirty years ago I had a great idea while piloting my water taxi."

"You own the water taxi company I saw on the first floor of your building?" "I sold it to launch the school. My father owns the building."

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

United States Senate Tweets While Rome Burns! This Week's "The Golden Parachute"!

Here are Week 13 @Twitstery tweets of "The Golden Parachute" the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance

"Regi?" Mary exclaims then "Shh!" and signs "Regi?" I sign "Yes" and she slaps my face. She signs "Watch your sentence" or maybe "language!"

"I can't. I'm too busy watching yours!" "Shh!" This is going quietly downhill. My cheek throbs and my arms are tired. "Can we meet outside?"

"Meet me at the milk and sugar joint down the street in ten minutes. We can talk there." I sign "OK" and she takes another swing at me.

I duck under her blow and waddle rapidly out the door. I really have to brush up on my American Sign Language. Or update my ASL phone app.

Through a dingy hallway maze, a tumbling flight down uncertain stairs, a hop, a skip and I'm jumping to the street at the Vitagraph plaque.

Someone had scratched on the plaque bottom "Lasciate ogne voce, voi ch'intrate." It's Greek to me. I open my free universal translation app.

I recite the text and the translator shows "Best guess: Italian 'Leave your voice at the door'." So Mary lied. We could have spoken Italian.

Vitagraph Motion Picture Studio. A century ago countless actors handed over their freedom of speech for a chance to work in silent movies.

What was the exception is now the rule in corporate America, where you abandon your constitutional rights at the entrance as you walk in.

What about Mary? By consenting to sign had she hand-over-handed her own constitutional free speech rights? Did she only sign to deceive?

There are twelve ways to find out. Instead I head west, convinced my app misinterpreted her hand signed "milk and sugar joint" description.

I look for a seedy bar, lowdown diner or some other dive to wait for Mary Kwitecontrari, med school Dean of Admissions and Financial Aid.

I hope for barbeque but most shops are shuttered. The only open "joint" is a charming tea shop with overstuffed chairs and an elongated bar.

Taking a seat beside the polished antique Georgian mahogany, I contemplate wormholes. The barkeep is a hairy hulk who has seen better days.

"Set 'em up. Keep 'em coming" I tell the barkeep. Looking me over with obvious disdain, she slides a glass full of a milky substance my way.

"I take a sip and spit it out. What is this?" "Milk" she replies. "I don't drink milk. What else you got?" "We got milk." "That's it?"

"We got whole, 2%, 1%, skim, organic, rBST free, lactose free." "Only milk?" "Maybe some Kefir or kumis in back." "Any coffee?" "No. Milk."

"I take it black anyway." "Your milk?" "No, my coffee." "Also, check the back shelf. We carry a complete selection of natural sweeteners."

"Sweeteners?" "Name your poison. We got sucrose, glucose, dextrose, fructose, maltose, and trehalose." "Trehalose?" "Yeah, the good stuff."

Bins of powders or liquids line the wall. Above, Tansey's "The Innocent Eye Test" contemplates bovine art appreciation. http://bit.ly/ZXzBq4

"We got honey, maple syrup, coconut palm sugar and sorghum." "I don't drink milk." "Want a fruit punch?" I'm not falling for that one again.

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)

No College Basketball Players Were Harmed or Degraded--This Week's "Golden Parachute" Tweets!

Here are Week 12 @Twitstery tweets of "The Golden Parachute" the amazing new sequel to Executive Severance

"How are you different from other med schools?" "We're bigger. They admit about 100 students a year. We take in almost 1000 at $250K a pop."

"These are all future doctors?" "By and large. Our graduates score USMLEs as good as stateside schools. We weed out the misfits early."

$250K each for a beach blanket bingo medic? Could she be for real? I write "Do think I'm an idiot?" She signs "Yes" or possibly "squirrel."

We sit in a grungy termite burrow of offices. "Where does the money go?" "Running a medical school is expensive. We break even on tuition."

She sees my incomprehension and writes it down. "Income from dorm and meal plans lets us claim for-profit educational institution status."

They're losing money with seven to one applicants lining up down the street. Is this the worst-managed for-profit medical school in history?

"The owners have tried to unload the school for years. Buyers take one look at our books and head for the door." Why is she telling me this?

I look at her name plate. It reads "Mary M. Kwitecontrari, Dean of Admissions and Financial Aid." Beneath in small letters "Notary Public."

The wall behind her displays diplomas from trade schools and personal growth institutes grouped around a photo of her with Ronald Reagan.

Alarm bells go off in my head. I can't tell you how often I meet charlatans who photoshop themselves into pictures with our 40th president.

Right there is the source of their fiscal failings. A school business plan based on Reagan's trickledown economics is destined to leak cash!

Any medical practitioner knows you don't want things to trickle down. Drip yes. Trickle no. Mary presses a button and the alarm bells stop.

She sees me staring at her photo and signs "Everyone here has their own picture with Ronald Reagan." Can I trust anything Mary isn't saying?

She signs "The owners hired a gang of former accountants as new management. Their first step to fiscal health was to fire older employees."

I write "They can do that?" "Well, no. But by a funny coincidence most of the positions eliminated were held by employees over 55." "Most?"

"If you're related to an owner you're safe. Firing people is the usual fix of new managerial incompetents to show quick operating results."

I write "You're over 55. The school is about to be sold. You see writing on the wall." "I'm 45 and we had the graffiti steamed off." Oops.

One sheet remains on my pad. Without paper I will be forced to rely on my imprecise ASL phone app. My last question better be a good one.

I write "Do you have any more paper?" "No. We used up our budget in March. We just got the annual memo telling us stop spending until fall."

"How can you run out of money?" "A temporary condition. It happens to us every year until the August tuition deposits arrive. No biggie."

There’s less here than meets the eye. And now my pad is out of paper. On the cardboard backing I write "I'm here looking for Regi Granger."

(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)