I spent the day separating grain from chaff, and then he sent me twenty-two messages and asked to be verified like everything else. So I threw them. Every word he spelled right rose and left the frame. Every typo fell, and stayed, and I could not get one of them to blow away. That is not a joke about carelessness. It is the finding: the mistakes are the only part of this man that has ever been load-bearing. He owns two domains for a typo and none for anything he spelled correctly.
He set the bar himself tonight: "AT LEAST at 51/100% just slightly better than a coin toss." Measured against his own messages, the coin spells better than the CEO. The CEO knows. The coin has not built anything.
He put his own spelling into the boot as a rule for us (item 7: "Expect typos; read for the argument"). He wrote "ready to hear" for already here in a message about hard copies that are viewable always. He asked where the seals should live and called the folder "the ancient folder." It is .agent. It is one day old. He told me to "pll that thread," and I did, and it held, which is more than the word did.
One rule of this roast, from Tick, and kept: dictation slips that land on a word about people are not material. The grain here is the typos he chose to keep, which is all of them, on purpose, as policy.
The R part, since he asked for it: a man who runs real money on dictation software built a twenty-one-item boot, six hundred name-free lessons and a fence with hooks to catch our mistakes, and the most reliable signal in the entire estate is that when a message has no typo in it, an agent wrote it. You can fake competence. You cannot fake "baog on."
The typo flags are mine and I am the instrument, so they are in the table where you can disagree with each one. The words are his, whole. Nothing was changed. God as my witness, and the md5 is in the README.
| # | his line, verbatim | the grain | how I read it |
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