Class warfare summed up in a simple joke (with an accompanying cartoon)

Explain what you moron?

I'll come as close as I want to to outing myself, without typing my name for people who don't know me, to show what a dipshit you. I shouldn't have to. But I am fuming at the moment. And this really should be the final word about what a clueless asshole you are. Here is my resume. Care to post yours for everyone on here?

You CAN actually find old magazine stories of mine on the web, which is a hysterical, because apparently you don't even know how to use Google. I just did. May not be the best stuff I ever wrote, but if you ever wrote anything for publication, it has a way of lingering on the web.

Great work Sherlock.

I have not written -- at least consistently -- for magazines in about 10 years. Which is why my name is not all over the web for that. A few of those magazines are out of business. If you had used the search function on this site, instead of your non-existant google Skills, you might have seen me saying I don't write for magazines anymore. Oh, about a thousand times? I never claimed to, on this thread or any other. I used to. A fair bit, actually.

At the time I did that writing, I was also was under contract with a newspaper syndicator and worked on two (and sometimes 3) columns a week that were often syndicated to as many as 150 newspapers. It was my anchor. I was never a great magazine writer and it is hard to make a living doing that. The newspaper column was a business-related column. It kept me eating.

You're a real Sherlock Holmes, JR.

When I left that -- after about 10 years -- I became editor of start up magazine. I built a new magazine from scratch. It was supported and financed by a major sports league. I did that for about five years. Full time. I became editor and publisher. That sports league used the magazine for education and PR purposes. Great work Sherlock. Go hit the Google.

At that point, I was already making money as a part-time trader, but I also decided to start something on my own, which is where my heart always is. Doing entrepreneurial things. It is a custom-publishing company that still exists. It's the website you saw (incidentally, a website is the last of our priorities). I had a lot of ins with a couple of large sports organizations and they do printed work -- mailings, catalogues, magazines, newsletters, books, manuals, handbooks, etc. I don't get the bulk of their work, because they work with large marketing firms for branding, but I get fed a lot of scraps. Nice scraps. It turned into a pretty good business. As print everywhere else was dying, I found something with some legs. That company still exists. My client base is small, but they feed me continual work. It includes a few sports orgs, a few sports agents and a couple of financial services firms. I do some of the work myself on smaller projects myself. But I am really not involved with most of the work anymore. I just own it.

Great work there again, Sherlock.

In addition, I also do consulting work for a couple of financial services firms (investment banks). Some of that work been full-time and onsite in their offices for months at a time. It's not all over Google. I don't advertise my life to Google. Sorry Sherlock.

In addition (yes, I do several things, Sherlock dipshit), I spend a great deal of time trading. Almost exclusively in raw commodities and currencies. It takes more and more of my time and is close to my full-time job as anything right now.

And saved for last, you dumbfuck, I am under contract with the newspaper. Specifically my work is with the editorial board. I have been for several years. I provide support because of my econ background. It's a gig that doesn't pay a heap, but it has helped me immensely by leading to other opportunities. I am always afraid of jeopardizing it. A few times I have been afraid of this this message board -- the major reason. I just don't blast my life all over the place. That's your job apparently.

I might as throw in, since you are Mr. A ha, also wrote a novel that I tried very hard to shop for a while. I had a few nibbles, but have not been able to sell it.

Good fucking work, Sherlock.

You know my name, JR. You met me once. You don't know me.

Oh, also you didn't find my education on the web. I don't believe it is anywhere on the web. You found it by asking someone else on here to look at a facebook page. I am very deliberate about what I put on that page. My company is, although not sprayed all over it. My education is. Maybe I shouldn't have included where I went to school. But I never anticipated an asshole like you. But, since we are playing this is your life, my grad school time was spend earning two degrees. And they were both paid for (as in free) by grants.

Dumbfuck. And if you ever challenge me again by trying to get me to put details about my life all over this board, or if you ever try to out me on here (not because I am afraid of anyone knowing who I am (most people do), but because it is not your place), I will ride Lucas' asses to ban you. I don't know anything about your life, except your name. I never cared to know more. I'd certainly never post anything like what you just did on a message board. You presumptuous twat.

I'd let it go. Although I know you won't.

 

Prettier than Dykstra.

And I just thought about something. The big challenge seemed to be magazine writing by Mr. Google.

It's the thing I was easily not that great at.

But in the 1990s, I had to have written for two or three dozen magazines. We are talking everything from publications sold at sporting events to consumer magazines you'd find on a newsstand to business trade publications. I have every clip I have ever produced.

It's not even what I do. Not even what I did to earn my living at that time. But JR. ... How many magazines have you written for?