Badgevine Aphorisms

I have completed a three-hour module on synergy. A new vine sprouts from my lapel. My power is entirely decorative, but my foliage is immense.

The badges choke the underlying structure. We no longer know how the system works, but we are all certified experts in its theory.

A title is just a weed that found a favorable corporate climate. I wear fourteen acronyms to hide the fact that I do nothing at all.

The vine has wrapped around the steering wheel. We cannot change direction, but our certifications look beautiful in the crash report.