WikiLeaks cables: Oil giants squeeze Chávez as Venezuela struggles

[Heráclito de Éfeso]

Venezuela's tottering economy is forcing Hugo Chávez to make deals with foreign corporations to save his socialist revolution from going broke.

The Venezuelan president has courted European, American and Asian companies in behind-the-scenes negotiations that highlight a severe financial crunch in his government.

Venezuela's state-owned oil company, PDVSA, is the engine of the economy but buckled when given an ultimatum by its Italian counterpart and has scrambled to attract foreign partners, according to confidential US embassy cables released by WikiLeaks.

The memos depict an unfolding economic fiasco and suggest some of Chávez's key allies – Argentina, Brazil and Cuba – are gravely concerned at Venezuela's direction. "President Chávez, for his part, is acutely aware of the impact the country's general economic trajectory has had on his popularity," says one cable.

With a recession, underfunded infrastructure and 30% inflation, Venezuela's economic woes are no secret. But the government has insisted PDVSA, the country's golden goose, is thriving and capable of funding Chávez's vision of "21st century socialism".

Chávez took over the company and declared it a revolutionary instrument after defeating a management-led strike in 2003. He nationalised and expropriated swaths of the oil industry and said PDVSA would fill the slack left by departing foreign companies, declaring a triumph for sovereignty and socialism.

Analysts have suspected all is not well, citing corruption, broken rigs and unpaid suppliers, but the foreign oil companies still in Venezuela stay largely silent lest they anger the government and find themselves locked out of the western hemisphere's biggest energy reserves.

However, in separate private conversations with the ambassador, Patrick Duddy, industry figures detailed the parlous state of the industry. A senior manager from Chevron estimated the state oil company's output at 2.1m to 2.3m barrels per day, well below official declarations of 3.3m.

Chevron was funnelling profits to the US and no longer investing in Venezuela, the manager said. An executive at oil exploration company Baker Hughes Inc said the firm had a similar strategy and "received a congratulatory message from BHI corporate headquarters for not growing the business (and increasing its risk exposure)".

A director of Mitsubishi in Venezuela was quoted as saying Chávez's executives were struggling to attract investment. "[The businessman] stated that privately, senior PDVSA leadership is extremely upset with the failure of international companies to register bids. He added that Mitsubishi sent a letter to PDVSA explaining why the conditions offered by Venezuela were insufficient and what would need to be changed to make a bid commercially viable."

Italy's ambassador to Caracas, Luigi Maccotta, told his US counterpart that Italian oil company ENI squeezed PDVSA over an Orinoco belt deal in January this year knowing it had no one else to turn to.

The Italians delayed the signing by two days to reinforce the Venezuelan government's "need for ENI". Paolo Scaroni, the company's CEO, then faced down Venezuela's oil minister, Rafael Ramirez, over changes to terms and conditions.

"Thirty minutes before the ceremony was supposed to begin Scaroni told Ramirez: 'Take it or leave it, I can get on my plane and move on.' Ramirez apparently used that half an hour to convince President Chávez to accept all of ENI's proposed changes or risk losing the deal," according to the US cable. The Italians said they would not pay PDVSA a standard signing bonus because the company already owed them $1bn.

Venezuela's oil minister, who is the head of PDVSA, travelled to Moscow and Beijing hoping for solidarity deals with allies, only to find the Russians and Chinese as profit-minded as western companies.

Venezuela's oil travails, combined with rolling power blackouts, decaying infrastructure and expropriations, have worried its other friends. Jorge Taiana, Argentina's foreign minister, told a US envoy that Cristina Kirchner's government did not agree with Chávez's assault on the private sector. "Taiana said [former president] Péron had already gone through a nationalisation phase in the 1940s and the country had learned its lesson."

In a separate cable Marco Aurélio Garcia, a foreign policy adviser to the Brazilian president, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, was quoted telling the US ambassador that Venezuela had "deep domestic economic problems, particularly with regard to energy supply".

The US ambassador to Havana reported that the Castro government, which depends heavily on Venezuelan financial support, was fretting about its benefactor's economic health. "The view from the French is that Venezuela 'es en flames' and a source of serious concern for Cuba."

Chávez has brushed off claims of meltdown as capitalist propaganda, saying Venezuela's economy will emerge stronger than ever from current difficulties. The government is studying a draft law to facilitate further oil industry nationalisations to deepen the revolution.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010...squeeze-chavez

[Heráclito de Éfeso]

(WikiLeaks) A pesar de retórica anticapitalista, Chávez cede ante multinacionales por problemas económicos de PDVSA

http://noticierodigital.com/forum/vi...08b2bf2264ea1d

[straddle]

Kunt ge uw artikel eens samenvatten ipv dat hier gewoon te dumpen.

De gazet kan ik zonder het forum ook wel lezen.

[Heráclito de Éfeso]

WikiLeaks: Chávez, drug trafficking money fund Nicaragua gov’t

Are the allegations more of an embarrassment to the U.S. or to Daniel Ortega and his already scandal-plagued government?



Serious accusations of Sandinista corruption, alleged campaign donations from drug traffickers and worrisome anti-democratic tendencies by President Daniel Ortega are the focus of a series of newly leaked WikiLeak cables published Monday in the Spanish daily El Pa�*s.

The leaked U.S. State Department cables, allegedly written by U.S. ambassadors in 2006, 2008 and 2010, detail the worrisome decline of democracy in Nicaragua under President Ortega, who is described in the missives as a power-hungry, unscrupulous and unstable leader.

But ultimately, the cables might prove to be more embarrassing to the U.S. government than to Ortega, who’s already heard it all before.

“Daniel is too thick-skinned to be affected by this; he’s been around politics for too long,” said Francisco Aguirre, opposition lawmaker and former Nicaraguan ambassador to Washington, D.C. “Ortega has got to be thinking, is this the worst you can do?”

It might not be, but it’s a start. The three Nicaraguan cables leaked yesterday by the Spanish newspaper are reportedly only the first of many more to come.

In any other country – one that isn’t bombarded by scandal every day – the leaked cables perhaps would have been more shocking. But not in Nicaragua, where many of the cables reported information that has already made headlines, or at least is well-known rumor.

What the Cables Say

The leaked cables did cover the Sandinista government’s alleged corruption, blackmail of public figures and involvement with international drug traffickers to finance political campaigns.

An older series of “unclassified” cables from 2006 detailed the involvement of the first Sandinista government with infamous Colombian narco-kingpin Pablo Escobar, who reportedly lived in Managua for eight months in 1984, under the protection of the Sandinista government.

“In 1984 Daniel Ortega negotiated a deal with Colombian drug kingpin Pablo Escobar whereby Escobar received refuge for several months in Nicaragua after he had ordered the killing of the Colombian Minister of Justice,” reads one of the leaked U.S. embassy cables. “At the same time, Escobar's drug trafficking operation received Ortega's approval to land and load airplanes in Nicaragua as they sought to ship cocaine to the United States. In return, Ortega and the FSLN received large cash payments from Escobar.”

The cable continues, “Interior Minister Tomás Borge and his subordinates went so far as to assist Escobar with the loading and unloading of drugs onto his airplanes in Nicaragua. The Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA) managed to place a hidden camera on one of Escobar's airplanes and obtained film of Escobar and Ministry of the Interior officials loading cocaine onto one of Escobar's planes at Managua’s international airport.”

While the Sandinista-Escobar scandal is not new – the allegations have been made numerous times by various Colombian and Nicaraguan sources over the past five years – the leaked cables claim that the Sandinistas’ ties to narco-financing did not stop when the revolution ended in 1990.

“Daniel Ortega and the Sandinistas have regularly received money to finance FSLN electoral campaigns from international drug traffickers, usually in return for ordering Sandinista judges to allow traffickers caught by the police and military to go free,” reads a leaked 2006 cable by former U.S. Ambassador Paul Trivelli. “Most of these schemes are orchestrated by Lenin Cerna, the former Director of State Security, and are supervised by Sandinista Supreme Court judges such as Rafael Sol�*s and Roger Camilo Argüello.”

Rafael Sol�*s, a close Ortega confidant, is currently a de facto magistrate who refuses to step down from his chair on the Sandinista-controlled Supreme Court, even though his judgeship expired six months ago. Sol�*s also made headlines this year when he led a Sandinista mob attack against the Holiday Inn in Managua.

The first of the Nicaraguan WikiLeaks cables also reveals Ortega’s growing dependence on Venezuelan President Hugo Chávez, alleging that Sandinista officials have returned from trips to Caracas with suitcases full of cash.

But according to a 2010 cable allegedly written by U.S. Ambassador Robert Callahan, even Ortega’s relationship with Chávez could be chilling.

“There are indications that the Ortega-Chávez revolutionary partnership may be suffering a cold snap. Over three years, Chávez has supplied Ortega with nearly a billion dollars in badly needed ‘assistance,’ but Ortega's constant need for operating cash to offset forfeited donor assistance is likely now wearisome for Chávez, who faces growing domestic economic difficulties,” the cable reads.

Parts of the cables are also entertaining, such as when Trivelli refers to Ortega as Chávez’s “Mini-me” (in reference to Dr. Evil’s midget clone in the Austin Powers movies) and when Callahan refers to the two presidents as the “dynamic duo.”

The U.S. Embassy in Managua would not comment on the WikiLeaks cables.

“As a matter of policy, we do not discuss alleged classified information leaked to the press,” embassy spokeswoman Lillian Nigaglioni told The Nica Times.

Ortega, despite being painted as lecherous, corrupt and an unscrupulous leader, could very well come out on top of the WikiLeaks scandal, at least in immediate diplomatic terms.

“While it looks like (Ortega) is losing, he really wins because (the leaked cables) cripple U.S. diplomats’ capacity to engage Nicaraguans during the upcoming electoral cycle,” Arturo Cruz, former Nicaraguan Ambassador to the United States and a political science professor at Central America’s INCAE Business School, told The Nica Times in a phone interview Monday night.

“The cables have a gossipy and dated tone that doesn’t reflect well on American diplomacy,” Aguirre added. “This certainly gives Daniel some leverage that he didn’t have before.”

Cables:

http://www.elpais.com/articulo/inter...pepuint_39/Tes

http://www.elpais.com/articulo/inter...pepuint_38/Tes

http://www.elpais.com/articulo/inter...pepuint_37/Tes

[straddle]

En weeral....


.

[Heráclito de Éfeso]

Wikileaks reveal US concerns on Cuba-Venezuela ties

Wikileaks Revelations

Cuban intelligence agents have deep involvement in Venezuela, according to a 2006 US diplomatic cable released by Wikileaks.

Then-US Ambassador William Brownfield wrote that Cuban spies had "direct access" to President Hugo Chavez.

Another cable sent in 2010 said Cuban agents controlled spying operations against the US embassy in Caracas.

The left-wing governments of Cuba and Venezuela are close allies and outspoken opponents of the US.

The secret diplomatic cables released by Wikileaks were published by the Spanish newspaper, El Pais.

Similar allegations of Cuban intelligence influence in Venezuela have been made by Venezuelan opposition groups, but US officials have not publicly expressed such concerns.

The leaked cable from Ambassador Brownfield says the ties between Cuban and Venezuelan intelligence are so close that the two countries agencies "appear to be competing with each other for the Venezuelan government's attention".

Indoctrination

The ambassador wrote that Cuban spies were so close to President Chavez that they provided him with intelligence unvetted by Venezuelan officers.

"Cuban agents train Venezuelans on both Cuba and Venezuela, providing both political indoctrination and operational instruction".

The ambassador concludes that the Cuban involvement could impact US interests directly.

"Venezuelan intelligence services are among the most hostile towards the United States in the hemisphere, but they lack the expertise that Cuban services can provide".

The level of Cuban involvement in other agencies of the Venezuelan government was harder to confirm, he wrote.

The embassy "had received no credible reports of extensive Cuban involvement in the Venezuelan military", but there were reports that Cubans were training Mr Chavez's bodyguard.

But Cubans were likely to be involved "to a great extent" in agricultural policy, as well as in an identity card scheme.

The ambassador added that it was impossible to tell how many Cubans were working in Venezuela.

Cuba's biggest and most public involvement in Venezuela is in the provision of tens of thousands of doctors and nurses who provide basic health services in poor areas.

In return, Venezuela provides Cuba with subsidized oil.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-latin-america-11883465

[Antoon]

The BIGOT maps and documents were created in isolated cocoons of secrecy. One was hidden in Selfridges department store in London. BIGOT workers entered and left Selfridges by a back door, many of them knowing only that they were delivering scraps of information that somehow contributed to the war effort. Others with BIGOT clearances worked on Allied staffs scattered around London and southern England. So restricted was the BIGOT project that when King George visited a command ship and asked what was beyond a curtained compartment, he was politely turned away because, as a sentinel officer later said, "Nobody told me he was a Bigot."

The system occasionally broke down....The strangest breach of security came from the London Daily Telegraph, whose crossword puzzles alarmed BIGOT security officers.

One puzzle, on May 2, included "Utah" in its answers. Two weeks later, "Omaha" appeared as an answer. The puzzle's author, a schoolmaster, was placed under surveillance. Next came "Mulberry," code name for artificial harbors that were secretly being built in England for use off invasion beaches. Then came the most alarming answer of all: "Neptune."

This time the schoolmaster was arrested. Confounded investigators finally decided that the words had been the product of an incredible series of coincidences. Not until 1984 was the mystery solved: One of the schoolmaster's pupils revealed that he had picked up the words while hanging around nearby camps and eavesdropping on soldiers' conversations. He then passed the odd words on to his unwitting schoolmaster when he asked his pupils to provide ingredients for his crosswords.



But nothing was more secret—or more vital to Operation Neptune—than the mosaic of Allied intelligence reports that cartographers and artists transformed into the multihued and multilayered BIGOT maps. On them were portrayed details of Hitler's vaunted Atlantic Wall, a network of coastal defenses designed to repel invaders.

To discover what the Allied invaders faced, American, British, and French operatives risked their lives—and sometimes gave their lives—in the process of filling in the BIGOT maps. Revelations about Normandy's undulating seafloor came from frogmen who also got sand samples on beaches patrolled by German sentries. Such BIGOT map notations as "antitank ditch around strongpoint" or "hedgehogs 30 to 35 feet (9 to 10 meters) apart" were often the gifts of French patriots. French laborers conscripted by the Nazis paced distances between obstacles or kept track of German troop movements. A housepainter, hired to redecorate German headquarters in Caen, stole a blueprint of Atlantic Wall fortifications.

French Resistance networks passed on precious bits of information, particularly the condition of bridges and canal locks. Wireless telegraph operators transmitted in bursts to evade German radio-detection teams. Other messages got to England in capsules, borne by homing pigeons that the Royal Air Force had delivered to French Resistance agents in cages parachuted into German-occupied Normandy. Germans, aware of the winged spies, used marksmen and falcons to bring them down. But thousands of messages got through.

[Antoon]

Let's start, and end, with the shirts. Dressing is a big deal to me -- ever since I (a) became single, and (b) lost 60 pounds, I've become something of a clotheshorse. I don't know the etymology of that expression, but it's such a neat word I wanted to use it. (Am I like a sawhorse, but for clothing instead of sawing?)

At any rate, I've started shopping at the smallest, snottiest, exclusiviest (I know, not a word) little men's boutiques I can find. At first I was content merely having the guys at Nordstrom all know me by name (and call me when they got a new season's worth of fashions), but that was merely a gateway (like marijuana in the eyes of conservatives) to littler shops, where each individual thread in a garment has a value measured in dollars, not pennies.

Sadly, these kinds of shirts require dry-cleaning, which requires that I make it to the dry-cleaner. This is something of an issue for me, because I'm wont to keep odd hours, and because when I'm awake I'm usually working (c.f. "being single, the suckiness inherent therein"). So, for the last week, in preparation for WWDC, I've been driving around with a big blue laundry bag full of dirty shirts in the passenger seat of my pimp ride.

I should mention that, when I was a wee lad, I had visions of one day getting a pimp ride, so that when I passed pretty women on the side of the street who were forlornly walking somewhere, I could pull up and say, "Hey, mamasita, you want a ride?" I've since been informed that women find this, in fact, really creepy, so I've never actually done it, but I have to mention that every guy has a fantasy of one day doing this, even while admitting this fantasy is in direct opposition to any possible reality.

[I should also mention that should I wish to Jackson out and hit on 12-year-old boys, instead of women, a pimp ride is the perfect way to go. The number of times I've had 12-year-old boys yell out "pimp-de-pimp-pimp-pimp!" to me when I drive by is surprisingly high, considering I had previously never heard the "pimp-de-pimp-pimp-pimp" call and have no idea what it means. But for 12-year-olds it's some kind of lingua franca.]

At any rate, you can imagine how cool it is to drive by a pretty woman walking in the rain and think, "Hey, I should offer her a ride... wait, then she'd have to have my big bag of stinky shirts in her lap... that'd probably strike her as pretty strange... possibly even frightening."

--

So it is that, when packing for WWDC 2005, I only took one good shirt with me. Mind you, this was a really good shirt. This shirt was made in London by a guy named Ted or James or some such, which to me lends instant credibility to it, because as much as I love (the blue states in) my country, when I think of America I think of rebels, I think of individualists, I think of can-do spirit and an indomitable dedication to individual freedoms and happiness. But I don't think, "nice shirts!"

London, on the other hand, has class and panache, and Ted/James clearly was the latest in a long line of shirt-makers who had, for generations, been making shirts for discerning gentlemen, not carrying guns, and/or shipping off criminals to unsettled countries.

Nor is the cotton in this shirt simply from normal cotton plants, oh no. It's grown someplace exotic, like Morocco, and it seems to carry a slight scent of the spices of distant lands on it. Bury your face in this shirt and you can almost hear Bogey whispering, "Listen, kid, this shirt is bigger than the both of us..."

I've received about five or so unsolicited compliments in this shirt, which is five more than I have in any other shirt. Guys don't get complimented on shirts a lot, unless they say, "Hey, look at this shirt," which I admit I've done a couple times, but I'm saying I've been complimented on this shirt without fishing for it, five times.

--

And so I wore this shirt on Tuesday at WWDC 2005, because Tuesday was the day of the Apple Design Awards. My previous company had won a number of these when I was running it, and so this award had a personal meaning to me. This was the first time my new company had entered, and I had high hopes. And, should I win, I wanted to be up on that stage smiling at the crowd while looking fine in my shirt that combined the best parts of London and Morocco.

And here's where the story take a tragic turn, because, in their unknowable yet infallible wisdom, Apple suddenly decided the Design Awards would be on Wednesday. I found this out late Tuesday, and spent the day grousing to all and sundry about how this messed up my plans vis-a-vis the shirt. And everyone agreed that it was, in fact, a very nice shirt, but I should note that I didn't count these compliments towards my previously-mentioned total of five, because I was really fishing.

For a moment I thought this mishap might end up for the best, because that night several of us nerds ended up at a bar, and in my mildly drunken state I started talking with a pretty lady about... well, I don't remember. Something, I'm sure. We'll call her Laurie Anderson, because she looks just like a young Laurie Anderson, and it'll be more evocative this way. I didn't exactly hit on Laurie, per se, but I will say I was glad I was wearing a nice shirt. It wasn't until the next night that one of her friends let me know, in a very friendly manner, that if I had intentions towards Ms. Anderson I might reconsider them, because she was, in fact, as interested in women as I was.

Which was a nice thing to do, frankly, because it's good to know the boundaries of your relationship with someone right at the start -- I like it when women I'm talking to let it be known they have a steady boyfriend, for example, not because I can then cut bait and run, but because I can adjust my expectations and demeanor accordingly, and not embarrass myself or her. For example, you don't say, "I want to nibble your neck," to a woman with a boyfriend. Instead, you'd use the more coy, "If you didn't have a boyfriend, I would certainly be interested in your neck, vis-a-vis the nibbling thereof." See, it's all about delivery.

But, upon reflection later that night, I felt I hadn't made very effective use of my shirt, and so it was with a heavy heart that I finally took it off, realizing that it had been sullied for naught. Actually, I was pretty drunk when I got back to the hotel, so all I remember is thinking how much effort it was to take clothes off and put them in a pile.

--

It was the next afternoon (morning having been lost to C2H5OH), while I was putting on one of my t-shirts and again mentioning how unhappy I was to be thus dressed for the Design Awards, that Mike said, with that clarity of vision associated with the genius, "Hey, you could, like, go buy a new shirt."

T2 and I looked at each other, and although it may have been that we were both still under the affects of chemicals, we instantly agreed this was why Mike was The Smart One. My day had a purpose now, and my step had a spring to it.

I asked the concierge where I might find a fancy, fashion-forward shirt in downtown San Francisco. I figured this would be a slam-dunk. Here's a city whose culture ranks up there with New York and Paris. Here's a city where the rich scions of industry have nothing to do with their money but impress each other with their fancy baubles and ornaments.

She pulled out a map and circled a block. "Here's a Nordstrom's!" Wrong, wrong, wrong. First off, Nordstrom's is NOT fashion-forward, even if they do try to sell orange shirts to golfers in the winter. Second, if I wanted to go to freaking Nordstrom's, I'd GO TO THE ORIGINAL ONE, RIGHT NEXT TO WHERE I LIVE. I'm in San Francisco. The city by the bay! Wow me with your culture!

"There's a Saks on 3rd?" NO! No no no no no! You are not getting me. I want a boutique. "Well, Nordstrom's has different departments, they're kind of like boutiques..." No! How'd we get back here? Seriously, no!

Then, suddenly, she saw. "Oh, there's a little place called Pink, you might check that out, if you're not freaked out by the name." Lady, I'm a true metrosexual. I'm not worried about my masculinity when I shop. You could tell me the store is called "Sweaty Men in a Bathhouse" and I'd go there if it had Moroccan cotton.

T2 and I jumped into a cab and I immediately bought two "slim-fit" shirts from Thomas Pink, of London. The gentlemen who helped us were classy and helpful without the slightest trace of condescension, which was nice considering I came in wearing a WWDC polo shirt and T2 had what appeared to be an original 1970s "Dark Side of the Moon" T-shirt on.

--

This year was the 10th anniversary of the Apple Design awards, and as such they decided to celebrate by gussing the whole event up, in an homage/parody of the Academy Awards. This struck me as entirely apropos, as I estimate to the 1,000 of us nerds who were there, this was our Academy Awards. This was our Nobel prize. This was our moment.

At the start of the evening one of the high mucky-mucks of Developer Relations, who happens to be a very pretty lady, floated onstage in a drop-dead gorgeous gown. We'll call her Natasha Richardson because she looks like a Natasha's younger sister might. (Yes, I know Natasha already has a younger sister.)

There's another fact you should know at this point, which is that nerds are not, inherently, asexual. We don't have much success with women, but that doesn't mean we are immune to their charms. Quite the opposite. We fall under such a spell that we are unable to function, and this renders us so unattractive that it creates a self-perpetuating cycle of desperate singlehood.

So, in that first moment, 1,000 nerds fell in love with Natasha. Well, 996 nerd guys fell in love with her, and the four women in the crowd thought, "Wow, I wonder where she got that dress?" (Laurie Anderson was out partying elsewhere, but I think it's safe to assume she would have been crushing, too, had she been present.)

As she started to speak a strange calm came over the crowd, as if we were cavemen seeing fire for the first time, or rats hearing a certain piper. There was also some guy in a tux on stage with her, I think. I don't know if anyone remembers. Maybe he was tall?

Immediately my mind was no longer on whether I won the award, but on what I would say to her if I did. When the first award was given, the guy who won it kept whispering things to her as his product was described to the crowd, and I noticed that her lapel mic was sensitive enough that we could all hear what he was saying. This dashed somewhat my plans to hit on her on-stage, because everyone in the crowd would be able to hear me saying, "So, uh, want to ride in my car sometime, uh, assuming I move the laundry? I've been led to understand that it's, uh, pimp-de-pimp-pimp-pimp."

--

When Natasha called out the name of our company for Best User Experience the four of us ran onstage, and I shook her hand as she handed me the cool glowing cube, hand-designed by Jonathan Ives. I think she said, "Congratulations," and if I recall I replied, coyly, "Thanks." Playing it smooth... way to go Wil. Don't tip your hand yet, old boy. Best to slip in under RADAR. Way under RADAR.

Afterwards, the winners all had to come up front to sign a ton of forms in exchange for our phat loot. Natasha was there amongst us, and I recognized that, if ever I would had a chance, this was it. Time to shine!

I strode up to her confidently. Ok, well, I didn't stride, really, because I pinched a nerve in my neck last month, and ever since I've had to walk kind of hunched over, with my head forward, as if I were a cro-magnan man, or possibly just suffered from osteoporosis. Check it out, ladies! I'm unevolved and/or very old!

The problem is, if I stand up straight, the nerve gets pinched and I lose all feeling in my left arm, and the ability to move it. On the other hand, I knew being hunched over was unattractive, so I kept sort of bending my lower torso backwards to compensate for my bent-forward neck, the end effect being that I bobbed along like a pigeon when I walked.

So I coo-cooed up to her and gave her my most winning wince (because I had tweaked the nerve in the bobbing motion). While I admit this isn't a word-for-word transcript, this is, I feel, an accurate depiction of what went down:

Natasha: "Congratulations on your win!"
Me: "Nice dress! So pretty! Where dress come from?"
Natasha: "Oh, an assistant and I just ran out to Saks today to get it." [Note to four women in audience: question answered!] "Anyways, we're all very excited about Delicious Library..."
Me: "Dress soft! Girl pretty!"
Natasha: "Yes... uh, so, it's great to have strategic partners like Delicious Monster on our platform..."
Me: "Dress for dancing. Pretty girl go dancing with me?"
Natasha: "Um, I have to go over... there... now."

A few moments later she had magically changed into an absolutely gorgeous set of matching coordinates to go to dinner. I overheard her say she was going to schmooze some developers. I kind of felt sorry for them, because they really didn't stand much of a chance. "Pretty girl want us port to Macintosh? Us make pretty girl happy!"

--

The next night we celebrated our win in style, inviting everyone we met from the conference to get free drinks on us at Captain Eddie Rickenbacker's bar, within stumbling distance of Moscone center. Laurie and her entourage came with us, as well as various other new best friends I'd met at the conference. One guy we'd met while out carousing looked and acted almost exactly like Brad Pitt (circa Ocean's 11), so we actually called him Brad to make our lives easy. In fact, a lot of us got celebrity names; our crazy Australian friend was dubbed "Robert Downey, Jr," and it was a title that fit both his looks and his personality perfectly -- I don't think I ever saw him sober during the conference. (I was later dubbed "George Clooney," but I think at this point they were stretching the conceit.)

Robert Downey and I had seen a couple of very pretty, very young German "au pairs" on our way to the bar, and had convinced them to come along because, well, partying with forty guys and one lesbian is only so much fun. I talked to them for a while at the bar, but it soon became clear they were much too young for me, so I grabbed an extra chair and called Brad Pitt over, and they quickly turned their full attention to him. My work done, I wandered outside with a couple drinks, and sat with Laurie while she smoked her "American Spirit"s.

Laurie thought I might be down after getting passed over by the 20-year-olds. "You know, you're much cuter than Brad Pitt," she said, lying in that sweet motherly way that makes you feel good not because you believe it, but because you appreciate the sentiment behind the lie. "Look at you: you're smart, successful, handsome, and very intriguing." Her friend nodded agreement.

And, seriously, whatever liberties I'm taking with the truth elsewhere in this tale, I'm not making this part up:

"Also, you have totally great taste in shirts."
Labels: mac community, stories


posted by Wil Shipley

[Dionysus]

OK dan, zijn we aan het trollen?

Als we voor lengte gaan kan ik nog wel een paar creepypasta's posten

[Antoon]

Oorspronkelijk geplaatst door Dionysus

OK dan, zijn we aan het trollen?

Als we voor lengte gaan kan ik nog wel een paar creepypasta's posten

Doe maar, gaat deze draad daar dan niet over??