Dilbert Newsletter 65.0

"A Little Ray of Bitter Sunshine"

April 2007

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Dogbert’s New Ruling Class boasts 480,000 members. Each one of you has so much crackling mental power that flight attendants ask you to reduce your thinking when the airplane is taking off or landing.


Are you reading The Dilbert Blog? If not, here’s the sort of story you are missing:

World’s Most Annoying Man:

Yesterday I was flying across the country. My biggest fear when flying isn’t that the jet might crash; it’s that I might end up sitting next to the World’s Most Annoying Man for five hours. Theoretically, such a person exists. I mean, SOMEONE has to be the most annoying man in the world. And there’s a good chance that he flies. After yesterday, I’m reasonably sure that he looks like Mr. Clean on crack, and he was sitting next to me in seat 3D.

As you know, when people use headphones, they talk too loudly because they can’t hear themselves. I learned that this phenomenon extends to nasal sounds in the sniff-snort category. Mr. Clean on crack was rocking out to his iPod and sniff-snorting so loudly every few seconds that the flight crew kept looking out the window to see if a pterodactyl was attacking the fuselage.

Oh, I’m just getting started.

The World’s Most Annoying Man enjoyed whatever was on the little airplane TV after the feature film. He displayed his happiness by rocking back and forth and making a sound like a horse with his ‘nads caught on a barbed wire fence. It went something like EEYOOOREE-SNORT-SNIFF-EEEEYOOOREEE! If you have ever tried to take a nap when Mr. Clean on crack is gelding himself next to you, then you know it isn’t easy.

The World’s Most Annoying Man ordered a beer before takeoff. And another every half hour. Add to this picture his bladder that was the size of a mosquito’s pancreas, and you can imagine how many times I had to unbuckle and rebuckle. Several times he had to go see his “assistant” in the back of the plane, which turned out to be a failed mission twice because of a beverage cart and once because she was either asleep or pretending to be dead to avoid him.

I haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.

He was a tall, lanky guy with, with fingers like breadsticks. Every few minutes he would grab some note paper and a pen, assume the "brilliant idea" pose, and then, I’m guessing, realizing he was more drunk than inspired, write a few words and…God help me…drum his fingers.

Now when I say "drum his fingers," I do not mean softly or just a few times. I mean every few seconds for an hour he would go into a drum solo on his tray table that was apparently intended to jumpstart his brain and squeeze out that nugget of brilliance that was drowning in Heineken somewhere in his cerebellum. I glanced over at his notes a few times just to see if he was writing a solution to string theory or the first chapter of a great novel. But I think it was a cross between gibberish and whatever aspires to be gibberish. The finger drumming, like his snort-sniffing, was extra loud because he still had on the headphones. Those breadstick-fingers were banging louder than Paris Hilton locked in a steel drum with a hot robot. It bothered me so much that I lost my ability to make good analogies.

He tried once to make conversation with me. “Going home?” he asked. I avoided that trap like a hamster avoids a Richard Gere film festival. (See? I’m damaged.) “Going to work,” I answered. Had he asked what kind of work, I was ready to explain my career as an actuary. No one can survive that for more than five minutes without slipping into a coma. It’s a drastic measure, but at that point it was either him or me. And my level of self-loathing didn’t even come close to my desire to kill him. So it would have been him. Luckily for him, he went back to his nonverbal methods of being annoying, and thus inadvertently saved his life.

Next time I need to cross the country, I’m walking.

For more of The Dilbert Blog:




Do you need to buy a thoughtful card or gift for someone who is graduating this spring and has no idea about the real world? I’ve got you covered. Now you can give the graduate in your life the sort of cynical career advice it has taken you years to learn on your own. It’s conveniently packaged in my new book: Dilbert’s Guide to the Rest of Your Life. You might want to get it now because I expect supplies to run out before graduation season is over.




Thanks to the observant readers of the Dilbert Newsletter, here are more True Quotes from the people who put the duh in Induhvidual:

"Do you think I've been sitting here twiddling my arse?"

"At no time do I ever condone you making changes to improve things in the office."

"Snakes on a Plane - what's that about?"

"Go jump off a lake."

"He's not the sharpest canister in the ocean."

"Keep a stiff upper chin."

"The squeaky wheel gets the spoke."

"I can lead you to horsewater, but I can't make you drink."

"He'd give you the arm off his back."

Announcement in store: "We have a customer by the balls in toys needing assistance." (It repeats.)

"You play ball with me, and I'll scratch yours."

"It's half of one, six dozen of another..."

"We do not have a smoking cow at this point."

"Is there 264 days in the year? Or is it 265?"

"My daughter is as smart as a tack."

"I've got a higher IQ than your little pinky finger."

"If Dad were here right now, he'd be rolling over in his grave."

"Well, it may be the wrong tool for the job, but it is the right tool for the business."

"It's our golden goose. We better figure out how to make her purr."


Original Dilbert Art

I’m releasing a few selected original Dilbert strips. See www.Dilbert4sale.com.


Dilbert Slide Show for Meetings

People kept asking for this product, so I built it. It’s a PowerPoint slideshow of Dilbert comics to liven up the stage design for large business meeting, convention or tradeshows. The typical use would be to run it in a loop, with your choice of music, as people are entering the room and finding their seats. See www.Dilbert4sale.com


Other Great Dilbert Stuff

Need to buy a gift for someone special in your life? Your co-workers or your boss perhaps? Check out the Dilbert.com shop. There are T-shirts, books, office awards and more!


Mother’s Day is just around the corner so send her a Dilbert.com e-card to make her day more special!



Thanks to the loyal members of Dogbert’s New Ruling Class for submitting these true tales of Induhvidualism.


While working for a leather company, we were chatting in the lab about food. One of the other lab technicians pondered aloud, "I wonder why you never get the skin on beef?"


My wife and her friend were talking about eating, my wife joked that her friend has several stomachs, like a cow. She responded with “Yes, my udders.”

To which my wife said, “Udders are separate from stomachs.”

"Well it’s all attached", says she.

My wife says, "Umm, no, like humans, cows eat, it goes through their stomach, they digest, and it comes out the other end."

At which she confidently replied “Right. And milk is a cow’s pee.”

My wife cried.


I went into my local bookstore and explained that I needed "Mein Kampf" by Adolf Hitler, for a class essay. The woman behind the desk asked, "Is it a new release?"


A few of us were talking about fighter planes and one of my friends asked, "If a plane is going faster than the speed of a bullet when it fires, does the bullet come out the back of the plane?" We were all surprised when he failed out of the engineering program the following semester.


I was at a new grocery and asked where the flour tortillas were. The young woman suggested checking the floral department.


I stopped at a convenience store to ask directions. The clerk asked, "Are you coming from State Route 37?" With as much patience as I could muster, I pointed to my car, the only one in the parking lot, and said, "No. I'm coming from right here."


I'm a headhunter who presented an outstanding manager candidate (or at least I thought) for a position. During the interview, he was asked why he was leaving his employer, and his response was that his employees were circulating a petition asking his boss to fire him. Needless to say......


I was in a teacher training class on history, and one of the people in the class, when we got to the part about BC and AD, asked, "In BC, how did the people know to count the years backwards?"


Test Your Marketing Talent

I recently bought a very cool gigantic (almost 5’ tall) wooden tennis racket that now stands in the corner of my office. The company that sold it also sells gigantic golf clubs and gigantic baseball bats for decorating your home, office, or clubhouse. Here’s a test of your marketing talent: Try to come up with a name for this business that is better than the one chosen by the actual company. (I’ll reveal their choice at the end.)

These would be bad examples:

Enormous Sports Equipment R Us

Furniture-sized Rackets, Drivers, and Bats, Inc.

Huge Sporty Art Things

It’s a tough marketing challenge.

I’ll give you one more helpful hint. I’ve noticed that everyone who sees my gigantic wooden tennis racket immediately smiles and walks over to it. It makes people happy just because, well, it’s huge and wooden. I’m sure it would be the same with the gigantic golf club or gigantic baseball bat. It’s manly art that makes you happy. Take your best guess and then scroll down to see if it’s better than the real company name. I’ll bet it isn’t.

Scroll down….
Real company name: www.wood-joy.com

How did you do?


Ask Dogbert

Dogbert answers tough questions with tough love.


Hi Dogbert,

I decided to ask you something because you’re so crazy-sexy-cool. But I couldn't think of anything, so my dad's question is "How do I make more money?"


Dear Androol,

Your dad sounds like a loser. I recommend taking out a life insurance policy on him and steering him toward jobs with high mortality rates.




Dear Dogbert,

What sort of place in society will people like my boss have when you take over the world?


Dear Jadung,

Anyone who does not subscribe to the free Dilbert Newsletter, i.e. the Induhviduals, will be ordered to keep the ground litter-free. Then I will pass a law classifying those Individuals as litter just to watch them hop all day to stay off the ground.




Dear Dogbert,

I’m a high ranking official and I have two secretaries (ages 24 and 25). I am not married, but my work ethics tell me that I should not associate with either of them outside work, and that the relationship should be strictly professional. Nevertheless, my friends have a different opinion, and they ask me why I don’t do something. What do you advise?


Dear Heathen,

I advise those two secretaries quit and get a job with a more attractive harasser. I assume you are hideous because you are a high ranking official and still can’t get a woman.




Dear Dogbert,

I am a female working in a predominantly male workplace. What would you suggest I do when speaking to male coworkers who constantly “adjust themselves” during our conversation?


Dear Enema,

Proper etiquette demands that a man make adjustments via the front pant pocket while muttering something about looking for change. That, plus some jumping jacks will usually do the trick. You can encourage proper etiquette whenever you see it being done the rude way, by saying something witty such as “I didn’t realize your brain starts the same way as a lawnmower.”




Do you have questions about office politics, meeting etiquette, romancing your boss, the meaning of life, or anything else? Send your questions to scottadams@aol.com and Dogbert will provide answers in the next Dilbert Newsletter.


Dilbert Fodder

What's bugging you about your job? Let me know and you might see it in a Dilbert comic or newsletter. The best comic fodder involves workplace peeves, devious strategies, frustrations of dealing with others, conflicting objectives, unintended management consequences, and of course my favorite - idiot bosses.

And I love True Tales of Induhviduals and true quotes.

And if you're seeing any new management trends that need to be mocked, I can help. Send your (brief) suggestions to me at:


IMPORTANT: Put "Dilbert" at the end
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won't bounce it back.

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