A manager's job is simple. For one hundred sixty-two games you try not to screw up all that smart stuff your organization did last December.
quote by Earl Weaver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Screw It All
Screw the World
Screw my friends
Screw the lies that never end
Screw my mom
Screw my dad
Screw the way I feel sad
Screw my teachers
Screw my school
Screw the life of one man's rule
Screw my clothes
Screw my nose
All it is is a fake pose
Screw my body
Screw my face
Screw all the parts below my waist
Screw your life
And Screw mine
Screw the rich who drink and dine
Screw the poor
Screw the sick
All it is is a load of gick
Screw my money
Screw my car
Oh my God, I'm so sick of it all!
poem by Artemis Zeus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You can't always wait for the guys at the top. Every manager at every level in the organization has an opportunity, big or small, to do something. Every manager's got some sphere of autonomy. Don't pass the buck up the line.
quote by Bob Anderson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Turn Of The Screw
Do you feel the turn of the screw?
Pushing harder, breaking through
It's better than you ever knew
Now it gets to take care of you
I won't go and tell it
Don't bet you're due
It swings enough to know the truth
It even left you black and blue
Never stop when there's nothing left to do
The turn of the screw, the turn of the screw
The thing you said you'd never do
The turn of the screw, the turn of the screw
There's no backing out once you've turned the screw
You never thought what they say could be
One night alone and you would see
I think you'll take back all those doubts
Now you know what the talk was all about
The turn of the screw, the turn of the screw
The thing you said you'd never do
The turn of the screw, the turn of the screw
There's no backing out once you've turned the screw
Turn, Turn, Turn it around
Turn, Turn, Turn it here on the ground
Turn, Turn, Turn it around
Turn, Turn, Turn it here on the ground
The turn of the screw, the turn of the screw
The thing you said you'd never do
The turn of the screw, the turn of the screw
There's no backing out once you've turned the screw
The Turn of the Screw
The Turn of the Screw
The Turn of the Screw
The Turn of the Screw1
song performed by by 1208
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gerbil
he gets out of bed
he goes to the room
he turns on the set
he is as smart as a broom
hey you brainless
how'd you lose us?
hey you thoughtless
how'd you screw us?
it starts on his head
he tries not to hear
it gets worse instead
he checks out of here
hey you dumb ass
how'd you lose us?
hey you headless
how'd you screw us?
song performed by by Filter from Short Bus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I was taught you never, ever disrespect your opponent or your teammates or your organization or your manager and never, ever your uniform.
quote by Ryne Sandberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Series of Tubes
That there Internet thingy
is like a series of tubes
All the smart fellas
in the hole world
got tagether and
they put smart stuff in them tubes
An now all ya gotta do
to larn stuff
is getcha self connected to that
Internet thingy
(You will need a computer for this)
(and some other stuff + electricty)
They you can pull stuff
up from them tubes
smart reading stuff
(if ya like that kinda thing)
or even important stuff
like how to knock down your old barn or shed
or even how to build a real bomb
(not for knocking down the barn though)
I know all this cause my congress man talked about it on TV
And George W. Bush says so two (I think cause he outta no)
The End (only the end of this poem)
If you like this poem a whole lot I think you should vote 9-10
(mostly 10 i hope)
If you like it some but not the very most maybe vote 6-8
(but you could still vote 9 or 10 to be nice)
If you only think it is middlin they go head and vote 5
(cause that's in the middle of 1-10)
If you kinda don't care for it you could vote it a 2,3, or 4
(that would be kinda low though)
If you hate this poem then you are left with only a 1
(there are no zero votes)
(But I think a 1 vote is not called for unless you are pretty mean though the last time I looked this was still a free country so you can vote 1 if that is how your mind runs)
Thanks for voting or not. (and tell your friends if you liked this poem)
probably don't tell them if you did not vote more than a 5
Billy Bob
poem by Billy Bob Noes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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All of those things had been talked about, suggested, rumored, as a manager and as a member of the Knicks organization, I couldn't allow myself to think that way or believe that.
quote by Isaiah Thomas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And from that nineteen sixty four, this was my goal to go to Olympic Games. And I realized what does it mean, Olympic Games, like big celebration.
quote by Olga Korbut
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We tend to think of the mind of an organization residing in the CEO and the organization's top managers, perhaps with the help of outside consultants that they call in. But that is not really how an organization thinks.
quote by Kevin Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Military organization, like religious organization, can be seen as a paradigm of organization in general.
quote by Robert Shea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Large organization is loose organization. Nay, it would be almost as true to say that organization is always disorganization.
quote by Gilbert K. Chesterton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Shy Christmas Tree And The Hundred Fairy Lights
Now the Christmas tree sits shyly
In the corner of the room,
Like a shining beam of brightness
In the dismal winter gloom,
All aglow with tiny twinkles
Of a hundred fairy lights
Dancing round shy, trembling branches
In the dark December nights.
Shiny tinsel shimmers sparkling,
Twined around like silver string,
While the multicoloured baubles
Turn around and gently swing,
All reflecting light and glitter
From the hundred fairy lights
Dancing round shy, trembling branches
In the dark December nights.
Stuck tight to the top’s a fairy
In her ballerina dress;
As to what she might be thinking
You will have to try and guess:
Is she looking on with longing
At the hundred fairy lights
Dancing round shy, trembling branches
In the dark December nights?
There are presents for the grown-ups
Underneath the Christmas tree
But there’s nothing for the children
Who will have to wait and see
What old Santa has got for them
While the hundred fairy lights
Dance around shy, trembling branches
In the dark December nights.
He will go collect his reindeer
And pack presents on his sleigh
And then fly among the moonbeams,
Just before it’s Christmas day,
Guided by the twinkling starshine
Bright as all those fairy lights
Dancing round shy, trembling branches
In the dark December nights.
He will wait until each infant
Is tucked up so tight asleep,
For they mustn’t ever catch him
And they mustn’t ever peep
Till he vanishes in stardust
Glittering bright as fairy lights
Dancing round shy, trembling branches
In the dark December nights.
And then, when it’s Christmas morning,
At the bottom of each bed
There will be a pile of presents
For each smiling, happy head
That sees toys and gifts, as welcome
As the hundred fairy lights
Dancing round shy, trembling branches
In the dark December nights.
And they’ll hurry down the staircase
For their breakfast and they’ll see
That the Christmas tree is smiling,
Joining in with all their glee
As it shakes, with happy laughter,
All its hundred fairy lights
Which dance round shy, trembling branches
In the dark December nights.
But the Christmas tree grows sadder,
For the next twelve days will fly
And then Christmas will be over
And it’s time to say goodbye,
Though it’s thankful for the friendship
Of the hundred fairy lights
Which danced round shy, trembling branches
In the dark December nights.
But one of its relations,
In a forest, far away,
Waits, in keen anticipation,
For next year’s Christmas day
When it stands, proud, in the corner
With a hundred fairy lights
To dance round brave, waving branches
In the dark December nights.
poem by C. Richard Miles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rot Stuff
Sittin' here eatin' my heart out waitin'
Waitin' for this funeral to end
Dug up about a thousand graves lately
My tastes are what some might call
A little more then just off the wall
Lookin' for some rot stuff baby this evenin'
I need some rot stuff baby tonight
I want some rot stuff baby this evenin'
Gotta have some rot stuff
Gotta have your corpse tonight
Rot stuff
I need rot stuff
I want some rot stuff
Lookin' for a lover who's 6 feet under
Don' t want another night on my own
Wanna share my fetish with a cold blooded lover
Wanna bring a dead man back home
Gotta have some rot stuff baby this evenin'
I need some rot stuff baby tonight
I want some rot stuff baby this evenin'
Gotta have something cold
Gotta have something rotting under me tonight
I need rot stuff
Cold rot
Lookin' for cold rot
Rot, rot, rot, rot stuff
Rot, rot, rot
Rot, rot, rot, rot stuff
Rot, rot, rot
How's about some rot stuff baby this evenin'
I need some rot stuff baby tonight
Gimme a little rot stuff this evenin'
Rot stuff baby
Gonna need your corpse tonight
Rot stuff
I need something cold and rotting
Lookin' for some rot stuff
Wanna make love to a dead man tonight
Sittin' here eatin' my heart out
No more listening to this funeral march can I do
Won't waste another night or moment on my own
I've dug up about a hundred graves baby
I'm bound to find somebody as horny as I am tonight
Gonna have some rot stuff baby this evenin'
I need some rot stuff baby tonight
Lookin' for my rot stuff baby this evenin'
Need something cold and rotting under me baby
Gonna need your corpse tonight
Rot stuff
Rot stuff
Rot stuff
Rot stuff
Rot stuff
Rot, rot, rot, rot stuff
Rot, rot, rot
Rot, rot, rot stuff
Rot, rot, rot
How's about some rot stuff baby this evenin'
I need some rot stuff baby tonight
Lookin' for my rot stuff baby
Gonna need your corpse tonight
Rot stuff baby this evenin'
I want some rot stuff baby tonight (yeah)
Wanna have your rot stuff baby this evenin'
I want some rot stuff baby this evenin'
How about some rot stuff this evenin'
poem by Ramona Thompson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Many Seconds In A Minute?
How many seconds in a minute?
Sixty, and no more in it.
How many minutes in an hour?
Sixty for sun and shower.
How many hours in a day?
Twenty-four for work and play.
How many days in a week?
Seven both to hear and speak.
How many weeks in a month?
Four, as the swift moon runneth.
How many months in a year?
Twelve the almanack makes clear.
How many years in an age?
One hundred says the sage.
How many ages in time?
No one knows the rhyme.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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While You Skate
You can't break my heart and run,
Believing that will stimulate...
Since you've done it to invigorate,
While you skate.
Oh no!
No no.
No. No. No. No. No. No. Oh nooo!
You can't do what's been done before,
To pat and scratch like a puppy begging for more.
Ooo oh no.
No no.
No. No. No. No. No. No. Oh nooo!
Hold up on that locomotive.
With motives to bowl me all over...
Or roll in granola.
I'm much wiser...
Older.
Bolder.
And I don't cry on no one's shoulder!
Or weep for treats in tantrums to annoy.
Oh no.
No no.
No. No. No. No. No. No. Oh nooo!
Back up off that BS stuff.
I've had enough of all that crap you've laid!
I'm not a cuckoo.
Or your loose screw.
Ooooh back up off that BS stuff.
I've had enough of all that crap you've laid!
I'm not a cuckoo.
Or your loose screw.
You can't break my heart and run,
Believing that will stimulate...
Since you've done it to invigorate,
While you skate.
You can't do what's been done before,
To pat and scratch like a puppy begging for more.
Oh no.
No no.
No. No. No. No. No. No. Oh nooo!
Back up off that BS stuff.
I've had enough of all that crap you've laid!
I've said...
Back up off that BS stuff.
I've had enough of all that crap you've laid!
You can't break my heart and run,
Believing that will stimulate...
Since you've done it to invigorate,
While you skate.
No. No. No. No. No. No...
No!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Azra
(A heartiest tribute of Sarwar Sultan to his deceased wife who a year after also passed away; the poem has been translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
It was December, she and I,
December has come again,
Who knows how many December
Will come and depart,
She can not come back
And I can not die yet.
It was December when I took her
On the fog-wrapped rocks,
It was December when I took her
On the bank of a blue lake,
It was December when I took her
On the high mountains
Amid the tall palm trees,
And it was December when I took her
On the bank of a rushing river.
Whatever the season is,
She always accompanies me,
I know not where to fragrance
Of her soared,
All of sudden on one day,
She went to where she had hailed from,
She can not come back,
And I can not die yet,
Now December becomes a wound
And spring imparts to it a tormenting pain.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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But there is something to the fact that we don't see games on the West Coast, or we don't see games on the East Coast, and stuff like that. It's so unfair, because there is a bias that takes place.
quote by Marcus Allen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Act of God?
A coin when dropped will
In one second, fall sixteen feet
In two, sixty four
In three, one hundred and forty four.
They were driving back from Sydney
Mum and Dad and their two kids
The freeway was a nightmare
So they took the old road that they did.
The old road’s quite an old road
Been there for many years
The rain was slanting sideways
Being late home was their fear.
It was night and many lights were out
The road was dark and quite awash
Water running everywhere
The kids shrieked with every splash.
A short drive now back to the warmth
Of the house in which they lived
A short drive back now to that home
Where they brought up both their kids.
Just two and three I think they were
A precious time of life
The kids strapped in the back seat
In the front was man and wife.
A dip there in the road appeared
Just where there is a creek
But we’ll be home soon they both said
Both kids were now asleep.
‘Slow down now, that’s deep water’
Said the man unto his wife
Those were the very final words
He would utter in his life.
One hundred feet, one hundred feet
One hundred feet or more
Was the depth of that great puddle
Into which the rain had poured.
It was at a place called Somersby
When the rain had drained away
That they winched up that death carriage
On the following grey day.
Yes, the chasm it was very deep
A Grand Canyon not a puddle
So for everyone upon that road
And every time you loved ones cuddle
Just think of those four driving home
And think of their full fright
And hold each other closely
Each and every single night
We should live for every minute
We should relish every hour
For simple stupid circumstance
Can destroy life’s fragile flower.
A coin when dropped will
In one second fall sixteen feet
In two, sixty four
In three, one hundred and forty four.
It was that deep.
I met the family's best friend in a local pub yesterday. He had just got back from identifying the bodies.
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Taking out the Trash
Twice a week in break of dawn
While the stars are outstanding
I screw the plastic lids on tight
Moles and chipmunks might get in
Summer in my shirtsleeves smart
A chorus of derisive birds
Winter with my overcoat
Frost and mist, dismissive words
The plastic, glass and house discards
Out by six and standing proud
Proclaiming waste and affluence
Of which we do not speak aloud
Who has the skills to sort this stuff
The piles we evacuate
Who can recycle or degrade
The trash we have thrown out too late
Nothing to rescue or be claimed
Once items pass their sell-by date.
poem by Frank Bana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Football Fans
We're Glenavon loyal true
Football fans in royal blue,
Hear us see us clap our hands
Hear us see us in the stands.
Saturday on football day
It's Mourneview park for for us,
Saturday the games away
We pile onto the bus.
We fly our flags big banner's long
Shout our voice we sing our song.
We're the best fans ever seen
All our pride play on the green.
Our team manager he's the man
Our team manager has a plan
The plans for all the team in blue
To win the league and see it through.
poem by Gerald Follis Lurgan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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