Well, sort of. It was a general consensus for the people who cycled through the conference table for some of those great small pastries that showed up and the core group that stuck around to run “merge notes” and mash the button.

DeMille doesn’t understand platform distribution, so whatever Zoomer might be left gets stuck with cross-platforming and some of the inadvertent distribution Legal has been concerned about.

So, the note for this one was, start to get it back in gear. There was a text telling the whole Socotra bubble to anticipate some acting-out stories as profound as the act of homicide by a previously responsible veteran who worked at Deloitte-Simpson down in New Orleans.

We decided to go some place warm and talk about that in a small group focus. The Boom and Zoom ends of the table are attempting to sort out nature of the threat has changed lately, from simply “bombs” to platoons of mechanized kamikazis on Bourbon Street or Berlin.

Vapor scowled, since he had once operated. Perfectly good flying machine that almost turned into a projectile. Inadvertently, he claims but he said this: “Or, like they did with airliners on 9/11. Wonder what our response to this is going to be? The car-fire in from of Trump Tower might be another statement!”

Each of the questions merited discussion, and we decided to do it. Kristina had a complete docket of local stuff, two new shootings and the death of a woman attached a couple weeks ago. Melissa had a cross-over in real estate and senior State Department changes of residence.

Other departments appeared to be sobering up in the morning as well. Meat from Marketing stopped by to ask for help. That shop had suspended any semblance of operations when preps for the prime advertising Holiday advertising closed out. He had two memory sticks with him. He waved them both above his head as Vapor and Splash decided to attempt some of the last three days of Chinese into a nutritious breakfast.

The matter of those strange little pastries almost cleaned up the morning. Kristina got them over at the Clarendon Ballroom after the ball came down from a pal at Old Dominion. It wasn’t surprising that they tasted great with the Black Rifle Coffee that had appeared in the galley sometime between official festivities.

The group was gathering mugs, pads, phones and dumping the residue of the snail-mail in old-fash8oned two Harris-Teeter paper shopping bags in which the desk packs them. Rihanna is a little stressed this time of year, since the paper mail that comes to the overwhelmed front desk of the Big Pink Office Complex.

“Hey, two projects got approved for First Quarter ’25. That means we get priority for corrections of fact and basic physics where they might appear. Like they did in the first editions.”

There were nods from Splash and Rocket and Vic headed for his Patio break. He looked up. “What were those?”

Meat waved both thumb drives and pointed at the screen on the table. “Dunno. We don’t anticipate conflict with them until maybe next week. We’ll have time to talk about those later. It is a new year coming.”

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