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Caption: Dogbert the consultant. Dogbert stands on chair facing the Boss who sits behind his desk. Dogbert says, "You must brainwash your customers to prefer your brand for no reason." Dogbert says, "The long-term goal is to train your customers to mail you money every time they see your advertisements." The Boss says, "Would we send them our product?" Dogbert says, "Hello-o-o, brain stem."
At Fashion Headquarters, an ugly looking woman with short hair and fashionably outdated glasses says, "You could be our next supermodel. I love the tumor." Dogbert wags his tail and says, "It's a beauty mark." The woman says, "We prefer our supermodels to look unhealthy in a sexy way." Dogbert says, "Okay, it's a tumor." Dogbert wags his tail some more and says, "I can add a few more. It's just Silly Putty." The woman puts out her arms to stop him and says, "No, it would be easy to overdo that sort of thing."
Dogbert stands at a desk typing. He tells Dilbert, "I'm writing a book that debunks the effectiveness of business consultants." Dilbert says, "But common sense would say that you're being a consultant yourself, so your opinion is logically flawed." Dilbert says, "Only people with no common sense will buy your book." Dogbert replies, "I prefer to call them the mass market."
Dilbert types, "On the surface, you seem to make some good points about technology . . ." Dilbert types, "But your e-mail address reveals your newbie identity. You're probably a goat herder or a cartoonist." Dilbert sits on the couch and Dogbert sits on the backrest. Dogbert asks, "How does it feel to be an elitist technology bigot?" Dilbert says, "I prefer to think of myself as a technology 'have.'"
Dogbert sits at his desk and a businessman sits across from him. Reading from a document, Dogbert says, "I'll invest up to five million dollars if you'll agree to some standard conditions." Dogbert continues, "I will be chairman of the board and own 99% of the company. You will work for free and wash my car twice a week." The businessman asks, "Can I mow your lawn instead of washing your car?" Dogbert answers, "You're a tough bargainer, but I prefer multimedia developers for my gardening needs."
Dogbert: "In market research terms, you belong to the 'techno geek' segment." "You're shy, boring, gullible and male. You prefer computers to people. There's always a spider on your arm." "Made you look."
"From now on, I prefer that you not refer to my genus by the derogatory word 'rat'." "The correct word is 'rattus'. It is the right of any group to define its own name. You must respect that." "Don't call me a dog anymore. From now on my correct name is 'smarter-than-a-stupid-rattus'."
A teller at the Bank of Ethel says, "Next victim." Dilbert approaches the window and says, "You charged me a fee for paying my credit card bill a day late." The woman asks, "So?" Dilbert asks, "Why don't your computers automatically transfer money from my checking account instead of charging a penalty?" The teller replies, "Frankly, we're not much into the 'customer service' craze." The teller continues, "We prefer to set little traps so customers get hit with unexpected penalties." Dilbert says angrily, "Well!! I think I'll just take my business elsewhere!" The teller says, "You're annoying me. That's a hundred dollar penalty!" Dilbert walks out of the bank wearing only his underwear. He thinks, "I don't think I can even claim a moral victory here."
Dilbert says to a classroom of children, "The goal of every engineer is to retire without getting blamed for a major catastrophe." Dilbert continues, "Engineers prefer to work as 'consultants' on project teams. That way there's no real work, blame is spread across the group, and you can crush any idea from marketing!" Dilbert continues, ". . . And sometimes you get free donuts just for showing up!" The teacher says, "Get out of my classroom."
A clerk in a computer store says to Dilbert, "Laptop computers are outdated. You want our new fingernail models." The laptops on the shelf are on sale for 50 cents. The salesclerk explains, "You glue them permanently to each nail. They sense where each finger is at all times. You don't need a keyboard." The salesman continues, "Of course, some people prefer that their computer not know where their fingers are at all times." The computer says to the clerk, "Dave, about last night . . ."