Eric Thomas

From a very successful guy who created an environment where people could actually work hard and prosper.  Jack Welch of GE.  

“The final relationship that cannot be ignored is with disrupters:

They are individuals who cause trouble for sport - inciting opposition
to management for a variety of reasons, most of them petty.

Usually these people have good performance - that's their cover - and so
they are endured or appeased.

A company that manages people well takes disrupters head-on.

First they give them very tough evaluations, naming their bad behavior
and demanding it change.

Usually it won't. Disrupters are a personality type.
If that's the case, get them out of the way of people trying to do their
jobs.

They're poison.”
― Jack Welch

Not sure this would qualify as a 'recommendation', more like a snap review.  I bought the Wonder Mill about two years ago.  Wife has pulled away from gluten and I along with it for the usual health reasons.  We still make some whole wheat, sourdough leavened loaves now and again.  We only have run Palouse brand hard wheat berries through it.  The literature clearly states a limitation on 'oily' or 'moist' grains, but non-wheat seed products are apparently all right; corn, amaranth, etc.  It comes off the shelf about once a month when a couple of cups of AP flour are needed and the other grain contenders just don't have the oomph of a good slug of gluten.  

Otherwise, it does a commendable job on them, makes a slightly courser grind on the "bread" setting then I would expect in comparison to store-bought bread flour, but it works.  The product comes out disconcertingly hot, despite the instructions and ad propaganda stating that it will "Grind 100 lbs. an hour" "for 10 hours without overheating."  Define 'overheating.'  The output is very warm to the touch, but I never put a thermometer to it.  I'm guessing in the +90ºF range.  You'll want hearing protection if you're going to run it more than a few minutes.  

Cleans easily, breaks down (except for the actual business parts) into smooth, cleanable parts.  It leaves me wondering what moldy, savory bits are sleeping in the actual guts of it.  I just run a half cup of berries and toss the first output.  

Feels good to know it's up in the pantry storage, ready for duty, better than needing and not having.  In retrospect, I might have chosen a manual/external drive motor brand.  

Hope this helps.  

There are two kinds of people in the world:

1. Those who can extrapolate fom incomplete data.

Young Husband: My wife was mad at me, so I went to the flower shop and bought her a bouquet, but she’s still angry.

Old Husband: What kind of flowers?

Young Husband: Violets.

Old Husband: Well, no wonder. You should have bought her roses. Someone should have told you…




”Violets never solved anything.”

Whew.....I was one of the last posters on the old thread, I thought mayby I broke the forum..

An old lady at the bank asked me to check her balance.  


So I gave  her a good shove.

When I bought our 5 acres, there was a very active game trail that ran right in front of the buliding site.  The deer would saunter by, followed closely by coyotes who would pause and look at me with the "what the hell are you doing here?" look.  Hence, "Coyote Way".  I wish I could attribute some mystical Carlos Castaneda type meaning to it, but it's been more like the Simpson's and Johnny Cash's take on mystical coyotes.  Every once in a whistful while I'll refer to it as Rancho Malario, a hat's-off to Firesign Theater, my wife playing Bunny Krumhunger to my Buzz; leaving anyone under the age of 60 with a puzzled look.  

Greg Martin wrote:Someone stole all the wheels off all the police cars.  The cops are working on it....tirelessly!

(too long without a joke)

That's nothing.  Last week they stole all the toilets from the station.  The case hit a dead end because the cops have nothing to go on!

I'm a technical/marketing writer by trade.  Friday just seems to set off the joke muscle. Bad Friday's are worse.

People often accuse me of “stealing others jokes” and “being a plagiarist.”
Their words, not mine…

An editor, grammarian and a linguist walk into a bar.  The bartender says, "what is this, some kind of joke?"

A dangling participle walks into a bar. Enjoying a cocktail and chatting with the bartender, the evening passes pleasantly.
A bar was walked into by the passive voice.
An oxymoron walked into a bar, and the silence was deafening.
Two quotation marks walk into a "bar."
A malapropism walks into a bar, looking for all intensive purposes like a wolf in cheap clothing, muttering epitaphs and casting dispersions on his magnificent other, who takes him for granite.
Hyperbole totally rips into this insane bar and absolutely destroys everything.
A question mark walks into a bar?
A non sequitur walks into a bar. In a strong wind, even turkeys can fly.
Papyrus and Comic Sans walk into a bar. The bartender says, "Get out-we don't serve your type."
A mixed metaphor walks into a bar, seeing the handwriting on the wall but hoping to nip it in the bud.
A comma splice walks into a bar, it has a drink and then leaves.
Three intransitive verbs walk into a bar. They sit. They converse. They depart.
A synonym strolls into a tavern.
At the end of the day, a cliché walks into a bar-fresh as a daisy, cute as a button, and sharp as a tack.
A run-on sentence walks into a bar it starts flirting. With a cute little sentence fragment.
Falling slowly, softly falling, the chiasmus collapses to the bar floor.
A figure of speech literally walks into a bar and ends up getting figuratively hammered.
An allusion walks into a bar, despite the fact that alcohol is its Achilles heel.
The subjunctive would have walked into a bar, had it only known.
A misplaced modifier walks into a bar owned by a man with a glass eye named Ralph.
The past, present, and future walked into a bar. It was tense.
A dyslexic walks into a bra.
A verb walks into a bar, sees a beautiful noun, and suggests they conjugate. The noun declines.
An Oxford comma walks into a bar, where it spends the evening watching the television getting drunk and smoking cigars.
A simile walks into a bar, as parched as a desert.
A gerund and an infinitive walk into a bar, drinking to forget.
A hyphenated word and a non-hyphenated word walk into a bar, and the bartender nearly chokes on the irony.