At a reading of my book yesterday, spoken in a bad Jersey accent by my ghost writer alter-ego, Susan diRende, someone asked how come all the other diplomats failed. This was a young person at Olympic College, so can be excused for not yet understanding that being a diplomat is one of those cushy jobs given to the important-but-incompetent friends of the powerful. A few days out on the streets, diploma in hand, rattling an empty cup at assorted passers-by, human resource gatekeepers, and parental units with a finished basement, and this young person will come to realize that the game is rigged so that anybody with original thoughts or interesting ideas is kept as far away from power and influence as the system can manage.Far be it for me to say there is no Truth Fairy, I will simply explain by way of an example. The businessman who was sent to Unpronounceable decided we needed to build a wall to keep Earth safe. Around a planet. He wasn't clear on how high it had to be, or what it would sit on. He simply promised, if you gave him the contract, he could get it done cheaper than the government. Nuff said.
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