School's out

So remember my post about getting a speeding ticket? In it, I said it was my comeuppance for all the times I was speeding and didn't get caught. I was going to pay the fine and go traffic school and that would be it.

That was before I got a letter from the court saying the fine was $360 - before the additional traffic school fees. For those of you keeping count, that's $22.50 for every mile over (you do the math).

There's paying the ticket then there's surrendering to state-sponsored extortion in the form of outrageously exorbitant traffic fines for only 16mph over the speed limit (there, I did the math for you).

After getting the letter, I immediately went online to see how I could fight the ticket. What I found was no shortage of websites specializing in helping beat the ticket. These sites, like the dog-walking companies I've posted about, have names that try a little too hard to convey exactly what it is they do.

The problem with almost all of them is that they charge more than the fine to make the ticket go away. And there's no actual guarantee they'll be able to do it.

But after a little further research, I found what I was looking for. And I found it, of all places, in a forum on the Southern California Subaru Impreza Club site.

Buried deep in the small print on the back of the citation is something called Request For Trial by Written Declaration. Basically I go to the courthouse, post the fine as bail, then get a form to fill out and make my case. Then I send it back into the court. When I request a TWD, that means the officer who wrote me up now has to write up his side of the story and submit it to the court as well. Neither of us have to appear.

There are two great things about that. First, when an officer comes to court to testify against you, he gets paid between $200-$300 extra. When he has to respond to a TWD request, he doesn't get paid anything extra. And since the last thing any officer wants is more paperwork, a high percentage of times they just blow it off entirely.

Second, it's writing. And not to sound like it's gonna sound, I'm pretty good at it.

If the judge decides in my favor, the case is dismissed and my fine/bail is refunded with 60 days.

Here's the great part: if it doesn't go my way, within 20 days of receiving the decision I can request a courtroom trial where I can plead not guilty, or request traffic school. If I don't like his decision, I can have another go at it to make it come out the way I want.

It's the very definition of a win-win.

So yesterday, I went downtown, posted the bail and got the form. I waited in a long, long, long line for the traffic court window. I couldn't help but feel out of place due my obvious lack of tattoos and passable grasp of the English language (on both sides of the counter).

On the Subaru site are examples of successfully written TWD's. I'll use one of those, edit them with the facts of my case, clean up the writing a bit and send it on in.

And I'll do it the only way I know how. Fast.

No strings attached

When I think of a Stradivarius, like most people, the first musical instrument that comes to mind isn't a trumpet. It's a tuba. No, it's not a tuba.

I've posted before about my son, the jazz trumpeter and, objectively of course, how incredibly, awesomely talented he is. And while I have no doubt the talent is all his, I also believe what helps bring it out to its full measure is the instrument he plays.

His Stradivarius.

Truthfully, it's a little misleading. It's actually a Bach trumpet, and Stradivarius happens to be the name of the model.

He didn't always play a Stradivarius. When he first began, we rented him a Yamaha trumpet from a local music store (I don't care how much disinfectant they spray on the mouthpiece. It's like renting bowling shoes - I was still nervous about it). We wanted to make sure he was going to stick with it before we made the investment for a trumpet of his own.

It didn't take long to see he was serious about it (as opposed to, say, cleaning his room or doing laundry), so it was time to shop for a quality horn he'd have and use for years to come.

Fortunately that was the easy part. Because the question was never where to get it. It was what time do they open.

The Horn Guys was the only place we ever considered buying from. Sure, we could've applied the rental fee towards purchase of the Yamaha from the music store, but, again, all that disinfectant.

Not being able to carry a tune in a suitcase, I'm always impressed and happy in stores like this. Bright and shiny things everywhere - right up my ally.

After learning about the many trumpets available from the incredibly knowledgable musician owners of the store, and having my son try out several of them (with his own new mouthpiece), we decided on the Bach Stradivarius Bb Model 37.

I didn't know much - and when I say much I mean anything - about Bach Trumpets. Come to find out it's one of the most respected names in brass.

It's easy to understand why one respected name in music would want to appropriate another. To say something is the Stradivarius of its category means it's unquestionably the best.

Which explains why you don't see many claims like "the Salieri of Flugelhorns!"

Educating Rick

The Republican party has a lot to be proud of in Rick Santorum.

Finally, finally, someone has the courage, the foresight, the vision, and let's just say it - the balls to take a stand against higher education.

As if it wasn't enough to misquote President Obama while he was speaking to a tea party group in Michigan, Santorum decided to throw in some good, old-fashioned name calling. Apparently in Santorum's universe, Obama is a "snob" because he wants everyone to have the opportunity of a higher education should they choose it.

It's easy to see why Santorum would be against this. After all, with his B.A., M.B.A. and J.D. degrees (one more than Obama has), he's obviously an educated man. He understands first-hand the pointlessness and futility of a higher education.

While he was a hard-working student at Penn State, University of Pittsburgh and Dickinson School of Law, he must've come face-to-face with plenty of those educated elitist snobs day after day. What with their "intellectual" discussions and "critical thinking" and "larger world view" it must've taken everything he had to graduate with his three degrees.

Obviously being around those leftist professors and their America-hating agendas is how Santorum is able to recognize Obama for the snob he is.

As the above paragraph from his 2006 campaign website so clearly illustrates, Santorum is so flustered at the thought of today's children having accessibility to affordable, higher education, he forgot that six years ago he was for it.

Thank you Rick Santorum for coming out against education. Together with your woman-hating policies to turn back all the progress they've made in the last 100 years, I believe you may have a real shot at this thing.

And if it doesn't work out, you can always tear up those over-rated degrees and get yourself a job requiring less skills.

After all, even liberals have to buy their fries from someone.

One word too many

Is it just me, or does anyone else see a pattern here?

When's the iSelectric getting here?

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, copywriters didn't work on computers. They worked on this beauty. The IBM Selectric Typewriter.

If you've ever typed on one, just seeing the picture instantly brings back the sound of the inter-changable font ball clacking away, not to mention the visceral feedback from the keys as you pounded on them.

The Selectric III pictured had several improvements over previous models. I won't go into them here, but you can read about them all at the IBM Selectric Wikipedia page.

This old school technology - which was quite revolutionary at the time with it's correction ribbon and stationary carriage - has been single-handedly responsible for every keyboard redesign since desktop computers were invented, at least when it comes to haptic feedback (for the haptic-ly challenged, it means using the sense of touch in an interface to convey information to the user - for example, if a key has been pressed).

They were big, clunky and loud, just like my high school girlfriend.

But like her, I loved working on it.

The punishment should fit the crime

On my friend Rich's blog, Round Seventeen, he's started a series of posts called People We Need To Kill. I'd like to nominate these two examples of human garbage.

Joyce Hardin Garrard on the left and Jessica Mae Hardin on the right are, respectively, grandmother and stepmother to 9-year old Savannah Hardin. Or at least they were.

What happened is that Savannah lied to the grandmother about having eaten some candy, so as punishment last Friday they made Savannah run for 3 hours straight. She wasn't allowed to stop, nor was she allowed to drink any water.

Dehydrated and sodium depleted, Savannah had a seizure and died days later.

I suppose the telltale line in the news story was "The trailer where Savannah lived..."

I'd like everyone who thinks I'm kidding when I say you should need a license to be a parent to take a good look at these two aberrations. I hate to judge books by their covers, but what's painfully evident to me is this couldn't have been the first physical or emotional abuse this little girl suffered from these inbred freaks.

Fortunately they've both now been charged with murder. As I said in the title, I think the punishment should fit the crime.

They need to make both these women run for three hours nonstop in the Alabama sun, then let them die of dehydration. Preferably while holding ice-cold water bottles in front of them, just out of reach.

I know some of you think the death penalty is wrong, and I should be more forgiving and merciful. Here's my answer to that.

Tell it to Savannah.

Hostile takeover

So there you are, casually surfing the web trying to kill time, or worse yet, actually find out something. You innocently move your cursor a micrometer on the screen over an ad, and suddenly it takes over your whole page and there's nothing you can do about it.

It's a whole new level of frustration for the internet age. Without any warning, you're an iHostage.

Of course there is a close box, if you can find it. They don't make it easy.

I guess in the interest of full disclosure I have to say I've created a few page takeovers in my time. I'm not proud of it, but you know my motto by now - say it with me: the check clears.

Still, here's the dirty secret for clients who drink the Kool Aid about advertising on the web: no one is clicking your banner ads. No one. Not your friends, not your family and certainly not anyone at your agency. Forget the "metrics" and "click through rates." Totally made up. Pure fiction, like Potter, Narnia or legitimate Republican presidential candidates.

Don't believe me? How many web ads have you clicked on in the last week? Month? Six months? Thought so.

You know what nothing from nothing is? That's how many people are clicking your web ad.

Don't misunderstand me. Are they fun to do? You bet. Can they be creative? Absolutely. Creating them a nice revenue stream for the agency? Of course. People worldwide clicking on them? Not a chance.

Pissing people off by forcing a web page takeover on them doesn't just make them uninterested in your ad, it makes them angry at your brand.

At the next status meeting, ask the agency about metrics for that.

Letting the account go

One thing you can say for ad agencies is they're not quitters. Especially when their largest account goes into review. If they're invited to pitch it - again – there’s no doubt they'll give it everything they've got.

Even when they shouldn't.

We've all been there. First come the rumors of trouble. Then the hushed closed door management meetings. Sometimes, an email goes out letting people who work on the business know. But as a rule, they find out on their own from somewhere else. Like Adweek. Or a friend at another agency pitching the business.

When a sizable account goes into review, agencies predictably knee-jerk into "we can't just let $200 million walk out the door mode."

But sometimes they should.

I understand the economics and the responsibility to try and keep everyone employed. But there comes a time when done is done. The fat lady is singing.

The problem is most agencies don't hear her.

The rank and file, people working on an account day in and day out, have a much finer honed ability to take the client's temperature than management. They know when the ground shifts and something doesn't feel right. They've seen it coming weeks if not months before management. Sometimes they've even sounded a warning.

But when it comes to management hearing about the possibility of losing business, denial ain't just a river.

From a new VP of Marketing to the client's wife not liking the work, there are a million reasons accounts go into review. Agencies always feel if they can just give it one more go, they can really understand the problem and come up with a solution.

And granted, on rare occasions, they can.

But sometimes what the client is looking for most from the agency is to be taken at their word.

Even if that word is goodbye.

Clients, like dogs, smell fear and desperation. And the scent is never stronger than an incumbent agency fighting for business, or begging for the chance to fight for business, at all costs - including its dignity, reputation and morale of its employees.

You know what's worse than losing a piece of business? Trying to rally the troops with false and tired arguments like "it's a level playing field", or "our client is working for us on the inside", then grinding everyone for weeks or months with them knowing full well it's gone regardless of what they do.

I suppose there's an argument to be made it's a few more weeks of work before the first round of layoffs. But like I said, the people bound to be most effected have already seen it coming. They're usually ahead of the curve on calls to headhunters and other agencies (especially ones pitching the business) .

Advertising is a business that rewards imaginative thinking, and punishes realistic thinking when it’s needed most. Pride before a fall.

What agencies should do, especially when business is good and clients are satisfied, is have an ongoing open and transparent new business directive everyone can take ownership in. After all, management isn't the only one in the agency capable of cultivating connections beyond the agency's doors. Leads can come from any department.

And if the lead pans out, you get coffee. Because coffee is for closers.

Wouldn't it be better to spend all the money they'll inevitably pour into a review on new business pursuits throughout the year, so when one account finally does decide to leave the agency isn't crippled by it. Better to have ten $2 million dollar accounts than one $20 million dollar one.

Of course, when an agency does have to fight for a piece of business, it usually brings in a ton of freelancers for a fresh perspective. It's always a good gig, and keeps their bank balance happy for quite a while.

On second thought, just disregard this post.

Rick Santorum probably didn't date much

I'm not sure, but I think I may have stumbled onto the reason Rick Santorum hates women so much.

He probably wasn't very popular with them. Exhibit A: the picture you see here.

In case you're not familiar with primitive points of view about women's rights or roles in society, all you have to do is take a look at any of Santorum's white papers on them.

He thinks pre-natal care shouldn't be covered by insurance, because really, "more often than not" all those amnios do is cause abortions - a fact supported absolutely nowhere. (While it's true there is a slight risk of miscarriage after amnio, it's between 0.5 and 1% of all second trimester amnios - which is the normal risk during that trimester even without amnios, so there's no accurate way to distinguish between the causes).

That's going to come as quite a shock to the majority of women who've had them and now have happy, healthy babies. And who had less stressful pregnancies because of the conditions, including Down's Syndrome, that an amnio positively rules out.

Santorum talks often about "the dignity of human life." Apparently that doesn't apply to rape victims. Santorum believes even if a woman is raped, she should be forced to carry the baby to term and then give it up for adoption. His wife shares this point of view as well, which is ironic since she used to live with an abortion provider 40 years older than her. In fact, he was the OB who delivered her.

As far as working women go, according to Santorum they shouldn't be allowed to go far at all given the havoc he alleges they wreak on their families. Here's his point of view on it from an article in the Washington Post:

His 2005 book, “It Takes a Family: Conservatism and the Common Good,” suggests parents in two-income families aren’t doing what’s best for the kids. Too often, he writes, both parents work when the family could get by on one salary: “For some parents, the purported need to provide things for their children simply provides a convenient rationalization for pursuing a gratifying career outside the home.” He described it as a sad situation created by “radical feminists” who undermined the traditional family by “convincing women that professional accomplishments are the key to happiness.”

As someone married to a working, professional woman, and the best mother my children could ever hope for, I find this point of view particularly offensive. But I imagine not nearly as much as every working woman does, with the possible exception of the women working to get this neanderthal elected.

It all sounds like something from a Saturday Night Live sketch. And points of view as outdated and irrational as these would be funny if this clown wasn't, for the moment, the Republican frontrunner.

If you go to Santorum's website, there's a tab at the top labeled "Why Rick".

My sentiments exactly.

Stroller derby

Seems like yesterday my wife and I were taking our baby boy out for a stroll in his awesome Peg Perego stroller - the Rolls Royce of strollers at the time.

Since we lived in Santa Monica at the time (100 yards from the beach in a rent-controlled apartment on the top floor of a 17-story building - don't get me started), we'd take our son for daily stroller walks on Main Street and the Third Street Promenade. The Promenade was a wide expanse of walkway, with plenty of room for us even when it was crowded. And when we were on Main Street, we made a point of staying to one side of the sidewalk so people coming and going could get around us easily.

More than rules of the road, it was just common courtesy. Seems like such a quaint notion from a gentler time doesn't it.

Fast forward to this evening as we're trying to get around these sidewalk hoggin', cell-phone talkin', baby ignorin', stroller pushin' mamas blocking 2nd Street in Belmont Shore with a Mitt Romney sense of entitlement to the sidewalk.

It'd be one thing if they were going slow to carefully navigate the walking throngs so their babies wouldn't get bumped or jostled.

But no,these mamas were in their plastic bubble, oblivious to everyone else on the sidewalk because they were so caught up in their own fabulousness. They didn't care one whit about anyone in front or behind them.

I suppose the good news is we were behind them. With a clear view of their rear bumpers (yes, that is what I meant), we could see the faces of the oncoming crowd as they had to quickly engage in avoidance tactics so as not to get run over by the clueless moms.

I know you can't make people more considerate. Believe me, I've tried. Maybe strollers need to be reclassified as moving vehicles, and parents operating them would be required to take a driving test to get licensed.

The other question that went through my mind is why do they have these babies out so late on a cold February night, with all the germy strangers passing them by anyway.

Oh that's right. You don't need a license to be a parent either.

Another post about juice

See what I did there? (see title of post before this one).

Sometimes you know what you know. And if you're lucky, you know what you don't know. But every once in awhile something you thought you knew turns out to be something you didn't.

Ever since I can remember, lemons and/or lemon juice have always been one of the main ingredients in lemonade.

Hence the name lemonade.

Imagine my shock and awe when I went to make my Arnold Palmer (to the uninitiated that's half lemonade/half ice tea) and saw this little notice carefully concealed in the small white type on the fountainhead.

Now I'm not naive enough to think a soda fountain at 5 Guys should be dispensing anything as healthy as wheatgrass or carrot juice (gagging a little at the thought). But is it too much to expect the lemonade to contain a little real lemon juice?

Apparently it is.

The part that throws me - and if you know anything about me you know I'm easily thrown - is that the supplier is Minute Maid. And what is Minute Maid best known for?

Say it with me: juice.

In fact, on the Minute Maid web site, here's how they describe the contents of their ginormous 128 fl.oz. container of lemonade:

LEMONADE Classics never go out of style. Made with the goodness of real lemons, Minute Maid Lemonade is the quintessential refreshing beverage with the great taste of a simpler time.

See? Their big barrel o' lemonade is made with the goodness of real lemons. Apparently that's the "simpler time" they're referring to.

As if there's not enough to feel bad about eating at 5 Guys, now I know I don't even stand a chance of taking the edge off by having something even the slightest bit healthy to drink.

Next time life hands me lemons, I'm making a lemon Coke.

Jew see what I did there?

Much to my great pleasure, and apparently great dismay of some of our more traditional friends, my wife isn't Jewish. Far from it.

She happens to be a committed Christian.

For some reason, that seems to cause some people great amounts of - what's the word I'm looking for - tsuris.

The fact we fell in love, got married, then stayed married in our unholy interfaith union seems to be a difficult thing for many people to understand. Apparently none of these people ever dated a Jewish girl. BAM!

Before you start all the mishegas with hateful emails and comments, know this: I have plenty Jewish women friends and colleagues that I love and respect (nothing but love for Mama G. and the breakfast club girls). But this is about me, and facts are facts: I dated Ann Siegel, Sandy Izakowitz and went to Fairfax High. Trust me. It's an argument you can't win.

Anyway, the question inevitably comes up about how this works with the children. While technically it's true they're half Christian and half Jewish, or as I prefer to say, Chewish, they're being raised in the Christian faith.

It doesn't bother me. Because I'm pretty much the worst Jew you know - in the practicing the religion sense, not in the as a human being sense - it's just not that important to me the kids be raised Jewish. Given how little I practice it, it'd be straight up hypocritical if it was.

I don't care if my daughter is bat mitzvah'd or my son is bar mitzvah'd. As I recall, my bar mitzvah was mostly a big party for my parent's friends. I'm still looking for the envelope with all the checks in it.

It is however important to my wife that they're raised as Christians. Fine by me.

For starters, they're going to an exceptional private Christian school where they're excelling at the first-rate education they're getting. I also have no problem with the overall values and principals they're learning.

If I'm being truthful, which always seems to get me in trouble but, you know, onward, I'll admit sometimes it's hard having the kids come home and hearing all the Jesus stories. But whenever I feel that twinge, I just remind them Jesus was part of the tribe - one of our boys.

The funny part is that my wife is much more insistent they learn about their Jewish heritage. She's the one who makes sure at Hanukah we light the candles in the menorah, although not too close to the Christmas tree.

Still, there are so many shmendriks who like to kvetsch about us not being the same religion. Which I always like to answer with this non-denominational question: what the f#@& business is it of yours?

I think there's so much about the Christian agenda in the news it just raises curiosity about our situation. Narrow-minded people like to paint in broad strokes (you know, like I do about Jewish girls), and make the assumption all Christians are on that extreme fringe. I can tell you from experience they're not, although granted my support of gay marriage isn't exactly met with open arms on Sunday mornings.

I'm also a bit surprised and upset how effortlessly some friends bash the Christian faith, painting all Christians in a way they'd never tolerate people of their own religion being portrayed if the sandal were on the other foot.

What chutzpah.

Don't you worry your pretty little heads - I still know which side my matzoh is buttered on. I'm proud of being a Jew, even if I'm not a practicing one. I'm proud my kids will grow up, thanks to their mother, with an understanding of both sides of their heritage. And I love a good "rabbi and a priest walk into a bar..." joke more than you can possibly know.

Maybe the people who make it a point of pride and claim to be so accepting will find a way to show it when it comes to respecting not only the two of us, but both our faiths.

God willing.

Breaking news: we have a break-up song winner

It wasn't easy. But then love never is.

Just to refresh your memory, last week I put up a post bringing back my breakup song contest. The first time I barely got three suggestions. This time, it was an avalanche. Apparently a lot of bad memories have come flooding back to all of you since the first effort.

And as we now know, broken hearts make for mighty good song suggestions.

For the last week the Rotation and Balance team of psychologists, relationship gurus, heartbreak counselors, romance novel authors, luv brokers and interns working for no pay have listened to all the outstanding entries and, difficult as it was, chosen a winner.

I won't keep you in suspense any longer. For the song we believe best sums up the emotional devastation left in the aftermath of a failed relationship - all to a good beat - the winner is (drumroll please) Carrie Talick.

Her winning entry? Love Stinks.

Not only does Carrie get her winning song from iTunes (right after she sends me her email), she also gets these six runner-ups. It was originally only going to be four, but the judges decided they were just too good and had to expand the prize.

Congratulations Carrie.

Presented here in no particular order:

Why yes, that is a new tagline

Years ago, Volvo decided to take the bold step of not having a tagline in their ads. At the time it was considered revolutionary by most, and heresy by some, including their agency who didn't get to charge development time against new taglines.

And yet, Volvo continued to do just fine.

The print ads were cleaner and more focused. The TV and radio spots were less "addy." And despite the fact they didn't try to sum up everything they stood for in a few words, people somehow managed to either remember or glean from them that Volvo was synonymous with safety.

You may have noticed by the plethora of lousy taglines out there that coming up with the perfect one is a challenging thing to do (this isn't the first time I've posted about this).

Especially if you're trying to come up with one for a blog. I've often thought of following Volvo's example and just not having one, which would be fine if anyone including me already knew what this blog stood for.

I've had two taglines since I started it. The first was "No meaning. From a tire store sign. Stop trying."

Rolls right off the tongue doesn't it? That was one problem. The other was it spoke more to the blog title than the actual content.

The second one I used for a short while, without any fanfare or any notice was "With a great blog comes great responsibility. Or so I hear."

I liked it, but as a friend told me, I'm not Spiderman.

I keep forgetting.

Although you'd think falling off the sides of buildings all the time would be a good reminder.

So it was time for a new tagline. This time I decided to go with something more descriptive of posts that appear here. Hence the new line:

We didn't invent random. We just perfected it.

It works because random is the central theme of this blog. I almost went with "Mindless ramblings whenever I God damn feel like it."

But for some reason the random thing seems friendlier.

A late break-up entry

You may remember a while back I did a post about break-up songs, and decided to turn it into a contest for the best one.

If you remember that, you're doing better than I am.

Due to the enormously underwhelming response, not only did I completely forget about it, but the grand prize of the winning song via iTunes remains unclaimed.

So here's what I'm going to do, since I'm not ready to break-up with this contest yet (I know, but I went for it anyway).

Let's give it another go. Submit your best break-up songs, and the selection committee here at Rotation and Balance will pick a winner shortly. We'll even sweeten the heartbreak pot: not only will you win your song from iTunes, you'll get the 5 runner-ups as well.

Entries from last time - Maybe You're Right, Hating You For Christmas and With Or Without You - are still in the running, so for the people who submitted them (you know who you are), no need to resubmit.

Just to get the tears rolling, I'm entering Can We Still Be Friends (don't worry, I'm not eligible to win).

What're you waiting for? Get listening. Because now, dredging up all your bitter, forgotten pain and heartache from the past could mean valuable prizes!

Remembering Ann again

Yesterday was an interesting day for me. I was at my friend Al's Super Bowl party that I look forward to each year. And it was also 30 years to the day that my mom passed away. When it happened I didn't know how to get through the next minute, much less 30 years. But she wouldn't have wanted me to waste any time getting on with my life. She was good that way. Please excuse the repost if you've read it before, but one more time, this one's for mom.

It's not like me to get sloppy in my beer. Alright, who're we kidding - I'm a sap. And the fact that today is 28 years since my mom died isn't helping that any. I'm sad to say I can't remember nearly as much about my mom as I would like. 
I can still hear her laugh. Because my parents had me later in life, I can still hear her almost apologizing to me for being "an old lady." But I never saw her that way. She was my old lady. She was my mom. She was there, frightened and strong in the emergency room at Cedars when I'd been thrown forty-five feet out of a car and knocked unconscious in an accident (many people by the way are still waiting for me to regain consciousness). She was there at the graduation when I walked onstage at the Hollywood Bowl to accept my diploma (yeah, I've played the Bowl). She held me, and the bucket, after my first real experience with a little too much egg nog and bourbon.

The last meal I had with my mom was at Nibbler's on Wilshire in Beverly Hills. Coke, tuna melt, arguements. The sounds of a generation and a half older clashing with a time and world that had changed in ways they didn't completely understand, and my impatience at their lack of understanding. Not my finest moment, and probably the first one I'd go back to change. Three days later, it was my turn to be with her in Cedars emergency room. She had died three times in the ambulance, and had been brought back three times. There was severe brain damage, and ten days later she was gone. I remember going into her intensive care room (can someone really be hooked up to that many wires?), and talking to her for about an hour. Trying to make my peace. Trying to say goodbye. And then, my mother opened her eyes and looked right at me. It was the first time she'd opened her eyes in ten days. Her doctors said it was a muscle reflex, similar to a twitch. They said she wasn't really there, wasn't really seeing me. But after a lifetime with this woman who gave me my sense of humor, sensitivity, temper, and everything I ever wanted (yes, only child), I didn't really care what the doctors said. Because I knew better. Every day, especially today, I'm the one who's seeing her. Bye mom. Before you know it.

Things I don't need to know Part 1: See's nutritional info

Welcome to the beginning of yet another ongoing running series of blog posts from all of us here at Rotation and Balance World Headquarters.

Like my Luckiest Actor Alive series, my Why I Love Costco series, my What Took So Long series and my Guilty Pleasures series, this one will deal with a specific topic - things you don't need to know.

Although it's not a competition (or is it?), it'll also make coming up with a post much easier for me. Cross one new year's resolution off the list.

So, seized by the holiday spirit, I bought a five pound box of See's candy for one of the companies we do business with. And I had every intention of getting it to them before Christmas.

Then I had every intention of getting it to them before New Year's.

Then I had every intention of getting it to them the first week in January.

Then I had the discussion with my wife about whether it was too late to deliver a Christmas gift. We both agreed it was. I felt bad about not having been able to deliver a box of candy just a few blocks from my house on time, so I did the only thing I could think of.

I ripped the paper off that sucker and drown my sorrows in chocolate.

Can you blame me?

However, inside the box was this little bit of buzz-killing reading. Really? A nutritional brochure for See's candy? Because that's what people stuffing their face with the vanilla cremes want to know?

I think not.

Internally I'm sure the fine minds at See's thought they were being informative. After all, there is that pesky law about nutritional value labeling in California. But intentionally or not, what they were really being was annoying. The last thing anyone eating See's candy wants to know is:

A. What's in it (besides chocolate)

B. How many calories it has

C. Anything besides how good it is

Maybe it'd be better if they put it under the second tier of candy at the bottom of the box. That way it wouldn't matter and you wouldn't even have to pick it up and look at it. Where it is now, at the top of the box, you can't help but pick it up to get to the candy. Your eyes can't help see the words.

And that slight twinge of guilt for having seen it is unavoidable.

But guilt is something me and my people have had a lot of experience with. And I've turned getting over it quickly into somewhat of an art form.

At least until Valentine's Day when I'll be dealing with it again.