Meg Whitman asks, “Mr. Doolittle, I recently graduated high school, am good at math, and am considering a career in business. Could you recommend a quality business school?”
Doolittle responds: Have you ever considered becoming a shepherd? You pretty much lie in a field all day while dogs do all the work, and you can utilize your math skills by tallying ovines to your heart’s content; an activity I imagine will contribute to a good night’s sleep. As for training, I would recommend you major in literature or philosophy, which will not only afford you something to think about during those long idle pastoral hours, but will render your college years far less trying and tiresome. Classic literature or the endless ontological drivel of men and women who think too much, is far more palatable with a jug of cheap wine than accounting columns; and come examination time, you merely regurgitate your own brand of nonsensical, existential glossolalia to guarantee stellar grades. Such a course of study also affords you more time for chasing members of the opposite sex, drinking to excess, and other mind-altering experimentation.
Alas, my attention has been diverted by the image of Donald Trump on the television. This so infuriates me, that I hurl half-finished beer cans at the screen in conjunction with a stream of epithets, and a hornpipe of staggers, sways, wobbles, and stumbles, which conclude by screaming the words of the great Jimi Hendrix, “Go ahead on Mr. Businessman. You can’t dress like me.” The horror. Oh, the horror.
Dave Doolittle is a highly literate, fictitious asshole. He typically writes about the workplace, though he happily spouts off whatever comes to mind on any topic of which he knows little. Mr. Doolittle kindly requests that you purchase his book, Dave Doolittle’s Resumes That Work So You Don’t Have To, so that he may remain unemployed.