Zip Your Industrial Lip

"Loose lips sink ships," Grandpa always told me. He picked up that expression in the war, along with some other great vocabulary. Grandpa was well known for his F-bombs around us guys, as I've mentioned before.

Our lips can get us in a whole lotta trouble, whether we're kissing someone else's wife in a dark corner or we're chatting up a storm about things on our mind that shouldn't be discussed. Personally, my personal policy is to keep my own lip zipped, and everything else too. If there's something on my mind, I keep it to myself. And everything else too.

I'm actually very strict on these things. You see I write about industrial issues as well as the other issues of life, extensively, but I'm just scratching the bare surface of what I could be writing. Because my mind is a steel trap. When I hear any kind of scuttlebutt, I've got it filed away. Or I'm digging, probing, seeking out whatever details and additional nuance there might be, in order to understand the situation, and, to put a positive spin on my motives, to be in a position to give advice if it's sought.

The key thing is: I keep it to myself. And it's a good thing I do, because I could literally curl your hair with some of the dirt I've got on people, many of them my closest neighbors. It just goes without saying that I have enough dirt on my own family to plant potatoes. And I mean the deep-rooted ones. I know which cousin's slept with the other one, who lied about where they were the night of the Christmas party, and who's getting drunk every night in a certain corner Skidrow bar. Drive by about 2 a.m. The car's over by the fence.

There's just certain things that aren't anyone's business except the ones doing the deed. Whatever the deed might be, and there's some salacious ones. There's things going on at the end of the road that you have to see to believe. And thanks to a good bargain I got on an Iraqi war era night scope, I'm seeing but I'm still not believing! But that doesn't mean anyone else needs to know. Because it's private stuff, meant just to be observed and the relevant details to be filed away, just in case ... someone needs advice. Or for insurance. And of course, should I be subpoenaed to testify at a paternity hearing, I'd have no choice but to tell the whole truth. So keep Maury far from me.

Now, when it comes to industrialism, we also have secrets, secrets we need to guard. And what I'm hearing (and seeing) with my night scope and sidelines 'big ear' is enough for me to know that certain ones are letting down their guard. You know these guys who show up in their big black sedans and they're wearing slick $2,000 suits? Here's a clue for you: They're not our friends! OK? They're with the major industrial powers! They're out to take us down! You give away enough secrets, formulas, schedules, supply records, etc., and there won't be any Residential Industrial Movement (RIM) any more!

Each man is independent, I know... But the movement is more than individuals; it's all of us counting on one another to keep things going. You talk, you're cutting everyone's throat. We can't trust the majors. They're wheedling you for information. Any kind of dealing with them is foolhardy. Any kind of cozying up to them, any accepting their offers of fast money, cars, and women is only for short-term pleasure. I know, I know, their cleavage makes a powerful presentation...

You think it doesn't make any difference. You think they're your friends. I'd love to say it right to your face: You're not paid to think! You're paid to keep your lip zipped and your mouth shut! Instead, you're running around with your mouth agape and wide open.

Let's try to do better, friends. If you have some dirt, some scut... If you've got the real deal, the lowdown on someone's affairs, that's private. That's something to hold in trust, to hold in confidence. That's something to keep to yourself. An insurance policy. Especially if it has something to do with our business, the business of the RIM. Keep it to yourself, and we'll all be better off.