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Tuesday, May 30, 2017

This is Harry Thuminas from Lenovo Calling

My name is Royal Flusher. I work for the international conglomerate known as Royal Canadian Veeblefetzer, owned by the pesky Belgians and crafty South Koreans. I make size 7 grommets and I like nothing better than to fuck with my boss.
OK, almost nothing. I like Vegas just a little bit more than fucking with my boss.

My pal Jimmy Poon, who is about 25 years older than he looks, is the brains of the operation around here. He keeps the blog mechanics running smoothly and set up the extremely cool Poon-o-Matic Gambling Gauges for the live portion of this trip.

His hair is piled up about 6" high on his head, and he has little bulgy cheek muscles. All of this together make him resemble a kind of Genius Asian Rodent Elvis.

My pal Jimmy Poon is really good with technology. I'm not sure why he is stuck in a dead-end $44 an hour union job at Royal Canadian Veeblefetzer, given his tech savvy. He's often called upon to diagnose problems with the Flusherville Veeblefetzer plant's network, which takes him off the size 7 grommet line. He seems to enjoy working on this stuff under the table, but he always returns to the line instead of getting some high-powered tech guru position with some 'internets' company.

And as the plant go-to guy for expensive IP equipment that turns out to be unplugged, Jimmy Poon was summoned to the hallowed 'offices', just above the Estimatin' Department, where the Quad Queen works, well, estimatin' things.

My ne'er-do-well fawning bootlicker of a boss, Norbert, was having trouble reaching the Sex with Robots site that he favored, according to Jimmy Poon. And so Jimmy Poon was summoned to the upper reaches to remedy the situation.

The sex robot craze is just gaining momentum, and catching up to Norbert's strange predilections. Jimmy Poon did some sort of tech stuff (or so he told me) and got Norbert going. Norbert had apparently feigned surprise that the Sex Robot Forum was showing up, when all he wanted to do was order a pair of rubber swim fins from Amazon.

Jimmy Poon and I had a couple of beers at the local peeler joint called The Iron Horse. They'd play 80s music for 20 minutes and feature a local stripper for 20 minutes. You knew it was a class place because of the fact the each of the strippers brought their own polyester fur rug.

We got talking about Norbert's apparent robot sex fetish and were kicking around scenarios.

"What if he was doin' it with a robot and the head popped off?"

"What if the teeth came out while he was messin' with the robot and landed on a table and went across the table like novelty chattering teeth?"

"What if the programming went wrong and the robot chomped Norbert's 3" dick in half?"

"We should hook that shit up to 220v the next time Norbert has a robo-date!"

Shit like that.

Then Jimmy Poon and I got a great idea.

I had one more day pounding out grommets at the plant until I was booked for a couple of weeks off, most of which I planned to spend in Vegas - because where else?

Jimmy Poon had some inside information about Norbert's computer equipment, after securing the connection to 'Sick Mofos R Us'. He put in a call to Norbert's admin, and spouted some shit about some tech shit not being right and if he didn't pull some tech shit on that tech shit it was liable to explode in a 20 foot diameter fireball.

It worked. Also... he'd need an assistant. Me.

We got up onto the second floor, and into an unused back office, closed the door, and crouched behind the desk. We could just see Norbert through the glass wall of the office. Jimmy Poon went to work routing the phone line so it looked like it was coming from Bell Canada. You know, tech savvy Jimmy Poon shit.

Once that was hooked up, we rang Norbert's direct line, and I took over.

"Veeblefetzer, Norbert here..."

"Hello sir, this is Harry Thuminas from Lenovo calling?"

"What's this about?"

"Thank you for taking my call, sir. This is a routine... damage mitigation probe call?"

"A what? A damage... miti-..."

I cut him off.

"It's probably no issue sir, but do you by any chance have a Lenovo monitor? It's no big deal sir, just a check on possible radiation."

"What?! Radi-... ok, yes I do have a Lenovo monitor. What's the-"

"No problem sir," I said in my best techie voice. "Chances are you are just fine."

"Fine? Radiation?"

"Probably your monitor is not the Thinkvision model, correct sir?"

"Thinkvision? That's what I've got."

"Thinkvision. Check. OK, no worries. Not many are affected, you know, down..."


"OK, Norbert. Don't worry about a thing. We'll just work the procedure here, and odds are still very good it's nothing."

"Okay..." he said.

"I don't suppose your model of Lenovo Thinkvision monitor is the 23" model, is it?"

"That's what I'VE got! 27" model."

"27 inch model. I'm sure yours isn't the X3 model, right?"

"It IS. I'VE GOT THE X3!!!"

"Ok. Check. Got it. Norbert, I need you to look on the back of the monitor. There's some information back there on a little sticker. Can you do that for me?"

I heard the sounds of grunting and the creak of plastic.

"OK... I - I've got it. I can see the sticker."

"Good. Great, Norbert, you're doing great. Now, there is only a few monitors that have exhibited this radiation problem. Just a very few. Most people will have no symptoms whatsoever."

Jimmy Poon stifled a snicker.


"Norbert, let's just confirm that you do not have a model B60E2MAR3CA Lenovo Thinkvision 27" X3 monitor."



"I've got that model. B60E2MAR3CA. Jesus."

"OK, don't panic. Only a few people with the B60E2MAR3CA have shown any signs of the, well, swelling."


"Norbert, just double check something for me. Is the quality control sticker on your monitor red, or blue? It's a little round sticker, usually on the upper right corner, with someone's initials scrawled onto it."

"Just a minute... it's blue. Mine is blue. Is that good?"

"Blue. Check. Got it."

Jimmy Poon was red in the face, trying not to explode into laughter. I let Norbert wait.

"Norbert, it seems that... you have a particular model of monitor that we at Lenovo have determined has a slight... radiation problem."

"Oh my God..."

"Norbert, I'm authorized to tell you that in some - just some - cases, this radiation causes a swelling."


"A swelling. It could be a small swelling, or it could be a large swelling. Of course, only a doctor could determine the prognosis for the swelling that you might, or might not, be experiencing."


"Norbert, please don't panic. You are probably going to be just fine. Treatment is 60% effective these days, you know, for the swelling. I need you to carefully perform a manual evaluation and inspection of your testes, without, of course, causing a rupture, which is a possibility in some cases..."

Norbert dropped the phone and ran to the men's room, grabbing his crotch, while we burst into hysterics. I hung up the phone and we pounded each other on the back, tears running down our faces.

Then we hauled ass.

And with that, my work duties at Veeblefetzer making grommets and fucking with Norbert were done and I was officially on Vegas Vacation!

Much, much, much more to come!

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