Mercury Rising

It's not often I find myself with a reason to speak highly of an insurance company. But since my auto accident a couple weeks ago, I have nothing but good to say about Mercury.

When you're in an accident, the first thought after you (hopefully) realize you're not going to the hospital, or worse, is that anything having to do with your car is going to be difficult for the foreseeable future.

I'm still here to tell you, from the moment I reported it to the Mercury claims department, everything became easy. My claims adjustor called me minutes later and explained the entire process. He had a flatbed tow truck to the scene within minutes. My rental car was ready and waiting for me at Enterprise by the time I was done filling out the paperwork at the body shop.

Since my car was totaled, I was concerned how much Mercury was going to give me for it. But they were more than fair with their offer.

I've been with Mercury for many, many years. Their customer service, in my experience, has always been exceptional. More importantly, it's been compassionate and caring. Important traits considering the high stress situations when you need to contact them.

Our family is insurance agnostic. Our auto is with Mercury, our life and homeowners with two others. We'd save money if we bundled all our policies. But while it's nice in theory, in the real world when there's pieces of my car from the freeway to the road where I finally pulled over, a couple hundred in savings doesn't matter.

Having a company like Mercury, that has proven to me I can rely on them, is much more important.

The only unfortunate part of the whole experience is while I was looking for a visual to go with the title of this post, I found this poster for a Bruce Willis movie of the same name.

From the reviews I read, I'm pretty sure you enjoyed this post more.

Totally totaled

There's good news and there's bad news about my car that was plowed into last Wednesday morning on the freeway.

My insurance company said my car was right on the borderline of being totaled, and they gave me the choice of whether to cash out or repair it. I'm going to consider it totaled and cash out. That's the good news. It's also the bad news.

As if I don't have enough things to keep me busy, now I have to add negotiating with the insurance company for a fair price and shopping for a new car to the list. I'm trying to look at the bright side.

My insurance company, Mercury, has been stellar so far in helping me with this claim. Actually, I believe they'll continue to act that way in cashing me out. I believe I'll get fair market value for the car - after all, that's what they do.

I think the issue will be exactly what constitutes fair market value.

There's a formula they use that involves comparing then averaging the price of cars similar to mine to arrive at a payout number. But the numbers I can find may be different (read: higher) than the numbers they find. I'm getting ahead of myself here. I will hope for the best.

What's nice about getting totaled is I'll get more money for the car now than I would if they fixed it and I sold it down the road. This is my moment to get as much as I'll ever be able to for it.

As my friend Pete said, the decision couldn't be more clear. The integrity of the frame was compromised. The body shop would literally have to cut the back third of it off, then re-weld it back on.

And when it comes to integrity, I work in advertising. I'm already compromised enough.

Of course, my car was paid off and I'm not looking forward to car payments. I'm also not looking forward to driving a pre-owned (used) car. The Lexus was my first brand new car in twenty-one years.

First world problems. I know.

So tomorrow begins the frantic online search of Certified Pre-Owned cars, then planning exactly when I'll have time this weekend to test drive the ones I'm interested in.

Just in case you think I've lost my perspective, I haven't.

Considering how severe the hit was, I'm grateful to be around to have to do it all.

Mr. Lincoln

Since my car accident last week I’ve been driving a rental. It’s not a car I'd ever buy, much less drive voluntarily. But it’s all that was left on the Enterprise lot at 1PM last Wednesday, after what was left of my car was flat-bedded to the body shop.

So choice wasn’t an option.

It’s this little beauty, a 2013 Lincoln MKZ. It’s also a stunning example why I haven’t bought an American-made car since my very first car, a 1965 Plymouth Fury.

On the outside, it's not bad looking. That is unless you compare it to almost any other car in its category on the road. Especially the foreign ones.

Inside, the fit and finish are neither. It is a cheap, plastic-y looking mish-mash of desperation trying to work in unity and failing miserably. Despite all the bells and whistles it's loaded with, it seems like all it's doing is trying to say, "Look how contemporary I am!"

Everything is electrical on it. Electric push-button transmission. Electric volume and air-conditioning adjustment bars you slide your finger across. Electronic instrument display.

There are controls on the steering wheel for audio, various navigation menus and cruise control. But they feel cheap, like they'll break if you press them to hard. The layout is confusing, and if they're going to plaster that many on there then they really should have a bigger wheel.

Also, for all the electronics there's only has one heavily overworked battery. And when the car is running all its gizmos, I bet it's a lonely battery.

Behind the wheel is cramped and crowded. My knees hit the inside of the center console. I thought maybe this was because I'm not exactly a tiny person, but come to find out it's the same for my smaller friends who've sat in the drivers seat.

Don't get me wrong: some of the best cars ever made have been American automobiles. It's not like we don't know how to do it. It's just that with full-salary pensions and giant bonuses, the money that should've been going into R & D on the cars has been lining the pockets of executives and union leaders.

The truth is I'd go out of my way to buy an American car that could go toe to tire with the foreign counterparts I've owned.

But the Lincoln MKZ isn't that car.

Taking the e-asy way out

I fully intended to have a new post up tonight. And like we've all come to expect, especially me, it was going to be witty yet insightful, terse yet pithy, lengthy but well written. But here's the deal: after the past five days I'm feeling more beat up than Tyler Durden.

Not only is my back killing me from my lovely and unexpected auto accident last Wednesday that I told you about here, but I'm also exhausted from four days sleeping on grass, standing in line, walking in halls and sitting in chairs at Comic Con.

I'm not complaining about the Con. It was teenage fun.

I am complaining about the car accident. That sucked.

Anyway, if you've been online anytime in the last couple years, you've probably noticed the explosion in Your e-cards and someecards. These are cards you make online and have added to a library for all the world to use.

I've custom made a lot of them for various posts on here, and I've also used existing ones.

Anyway, since I'm falling asleep in my soup, I'm putting up a few I like for your enjoyment.

By the way, I'm fully prepared for the lecture I'll get from my friend Rich over at Round Seventeen about taking the easy way out on this post.

I just hope he doesn't wake me when he calls and yells at me.

Hello dummy

I know I was going to be writing Comic Con posts this week, but then I remembered this.

I had to take my daughter to Sports Authority, or Sports Chalet, or Sports Concierge or wherever the hell it was to buy yet another pair of volleyball shoes and shorts. On the way to whatever department that stuff was in, I passed this.

The sparring dummy. I think every creative department in every agency should have one of these.

I mean one that doesn't scream like a little girl when you hit it.

Beyond the exercise benefits, it's an excellent way to alleviate frustration with account people. Just dress him up in that light blue, button-collar shirt with the yellow power tie and have at it. I don't know how much he costs, but I'm sure it's cheaper than all the wall repairs and replacing all those dented trash cans.

Now to be fair, I appreciate every once in a great while account people get frustrated with creatives. So to help them relax, and really, who doesn't want a less uptight account person, they should also have one of these on their side of the office. They could put a knit cap on him, a t-shirt with something ironic yet retro on it and have at it.

Of course, nothing unites people like a common enemy. In which case you can dress him up in one of the clients' company uniforms - if you have a fast food client you're already ahead of the game - and have at him your way (see what I did there?).

No matter how long you pummel him, he still won't go as many rounds as the work.

But it'll be much more satisfying.

Open letter to the person who hit my car yesterday

Dear hit and run driver,

I hope your day went better than mine did yesterday after you plowed into my car on the 405 South.

Well, actually I don't.

What I really hope is you had the worst day of your life, maybe something along the lines of crippling fear and paranoia you'll be caught for hitting two cars on the freeway then taking off on the nearest offramp.

Since the CHP said you must've been going about 80 mph when you plowed into me, the front end of your car must be in pretty bad shape. Surprised it was still running well enough to leave the scene. I hope your car was at least damaged to the tune of the estimated $10,500 dollars - so far - that you did to mine.

Also, thanks for worrying whether I was hurt or not. It's easy to understand why you'd think driving off after knocking my car, which was already going 55 mph, forward a couple more car lengths and sending me flying forward with all the inertia that kind of collision brings with it (good thing I had my seat belt on, huh?), would leave me relatively unharmed.

But enough about me. What about the other girl's car you side-swiped as you veered across three lanes of traffic to make your getaway? I'm going to bet she's not too happy with you either. I think if you ever start passing out apologies, you've better save one for her.

I know you don't know this, but she actually saw your face and remembered your tan Camry. Sadly she didn't get the license plate, because to follow you off the freeway would've meant her racing across three lanes to catch up with you. And unlike yourself, she didn't want to cause an accident.

But I hope you're losing a lot of sleep wondering if the she got the plate or not.

I wish you'd stuck around because I would've loved to know why you hit me. I wasn't stopped. You must've taken your eyes off the road for a sec. Texting maybe? Putting makeup on? Maybe looking for the nearest offramp in case you hit something - that'd be ironic wouldn't it.

I'd also like to know why you fled the scene. The CHP officer said it could be one of several things. Maybe you were driving with a suspended license. You could've been getting an early start being drunk or stoned. He also said you might not have had insurance so you were afraid you'd get arrested. Which you wouldn't have.

But you will now if someone calls in the damage on your car.

Odds are in your favor that unless you have a guilty conscience and call it in, you'll probably get away with it. I hope not. Even though I have nothing to base it on, in fact I have evidence to the contrary with you leaving and all, I'd still like to think you'll do the right thing.

If not, then all I can hope for is that kharma wreaks a nasty, ugly, expensive and unexpected revenge on your ass.

Because after all, kharma, like you, is a bitch.

The Con is on

Don't say you haven't been warned. For the next four and a half days, my son and I will be living amongst 'em (well, actually we'll be living at the Hilton and walking amongst 'em, but no one's under oath here): the Stormtroopers, Wolverines, Lara Crofts, Jokers, Iron Men, Darth Vaders, Zombies, Batmen, Supermen and other assorted, costumed inhabitants of Comic Con.

As you can see here and here, this isn't the first time I've written about the Con. And it won't be the last.

Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not saying it's the only subject I'll post about for the next few days. But if you happen to notice my writing in the Thursday through Sunday posts have a nerdist, geekesque, maybe-I-ought-to-get-a-life, gee-he-sounds-REALLY-tired quality to them, then I've done my job and you'll know we're having a fine time.

For those who've never been - and really, like the Rolling Stones or Rick Perry trying to complete a sentence, it's something you need to see at least once in your life - please to enjoy this little taste of my next four days.

Welcome to my world.

Analyze that

“That” is a funny word. Not funny ha-ha, but funny in the sense (that) a lot of people think (that) you need to use it when you don’t.

As my fellow copywriters will attest to, one of the items on the job description is being able to edit your own copy. Not with a machete like account people or clients are prone to do, but with a scalpel. What’s usually required is a surgical, precision paring down of the word count to bring whatever brilliant idea it is into sharper focus. And down to time.

For me, the first place (that) I direct this effort is at “that.”

I don’t think (that) there are a lot of words as expendable as “that.” I know for a fact (that) most agency proofreaders don’t agree with me at all about this. They think (that) they’re not doing their job unless they put back all the “thats” (that) I’ve taken out.

Apparently it's true (that) proofreaders are paid by the word.

Anyway, next time you’re writing a letter, note, list, blogpost, copy or whatever, when you go through it to make revisions and fine tune it to a sharp, brisk read, the first place I’d start with is “that.” You may have already noticed (that) all the “thats" in parenthesis are completely unnecessary.

Now that I re-read it, the same might be said for this post.

Highway to hell

I know what you're thinking. And no, this isn't a post about my career path in advertising.

In yet another example of good parenting, I was driving down the road yesterday. Sixty miles an hour, windows and sunroof open, and my 14-year old daughter at my side. My iPhone was blasting the quintessential rock'n roll / driving song, Highway to Hell.

Pure, unadulterated fun.

I joke about good parenting, but here's a lesson worth remembering: as you get older and life gets more and more demanding, there are so few moments of pure abandon and joy that when one comes along, especially one you can recreate on a regular basis, then by all means take it. And don't give a damn what anybody else thinks.

There will always be a world full of people trying to harsh your buzz. Don't let them.

If I wanted to take this line of thinking along it's logical path, there's probably another lesson in here about creating your own happiness and all, but even as I write that it sounds a little too new age for me to get into. Maybe I'll save it for another time, like after I watch an Oprah marathon and discuss it with my life coach (that was for you Mel).

Anyway, if I can give my kids one piece of advice tonight, it's this. As they do their homework, focus on their futures and try to make the world a better place, I hope they'll always remember to do the thing that can keep them going when they feel like they can't go any further, lift them up when they're as down as they can be and make everything seem like it's right in the world.

Rock on.

Don't ask: Sharing a hotel room

Remember when you were a kid how exciting it was to have a sleepover at a friend’s house, or have them sleep over at yours? The two of you would stay up way past lights out, smacking each other with the pillows, laughing, telling stories, trying to scare the bejesus out of each other.

I don't know if you've noticed, but as an adult most trips where you have to share a hotel room aren’t like that.

Wait, did I say have to? (laughs hysterically) I never have to. Sharing a hotel room is something I don’t do anymore. It's also the third installment of my wildly popular online series: Don’t Ask.

Just to refresh your memory, first was moving, second was picking people up at the airport. But thanks to a conversation with my friend Michelle, I was reminded about this no less essential life choice. Well, essential if you want your space, privacy, hairbrush, toothpaste, path to the bathroom and shower (don't get me started on the shower) un-invaded by anyone else.

For years I used to go with friends to Las Vegas. We'd split the cost of a hotel room (and by the way, what was the point of that? Vegas hotel rooms cost next to nothing), but then we'd have to actually share the room.

Here's the thing - when I travel, it's one of the few places where I have control over my own environment. I like things orderly. I hang clothes up. I don't let the bathroom counter become a wading pool. I set up my laptop a certain way when I'm working, and have a specific way to lock it down when I'm not.

Then there's also the Garbo factor. I want to be alone.

At this point, hotel rooms are a refuge, not quite a sanctuary, but close. Part of their appeal is I can shut everything out. That includes whomever I'm traveling with.

Listen, if we're traveling together, we'll have a great time. If you know anything about me, and you should by now, you already know I'm not the kind of person who denies myself when it comes to travel. We'll fly in the front of the plane. We'll eat in the best restaurants. We'll see the hit shows. And we'll have the best seats in the house when we see them.

But it's important you know the golden rule going in. If you can't afford your own hotel room, you can't afford to travel with me.

3:54 AM

I know what you're thinking. Well, no I don't. I don't know jack right now.

It's 3:54 a.m. and, once again, I am wide awake. And of course, doing exactly what sleep experts tell you not to do: working on an electronic device.

It seems some ultra-blue whammy jammy light from the screen disturbs your sleep patterns. Oh really? Guess what Sherlock - if my sleep patterns weren't already disturbed I wouldn't be up writing this now would I?

This happens to me more and more frequently. For a variety of reasons - or sometimes none at all - I just get up around three and don't go back to bed until about five. Then I have to be up again at 6:30 a.m. to take one of the kids to school, or work, or wherever. I don't even know. By that time I'm so numb and tired I'm lucky I can get where I'm going.

Since every condition has a name thanks to the internet, this one is called Middle-Of-The-Night insomnia, or MOTN. It would've been a more creative name but they were tired. Anyway, the disorder is characterized by waking up in the middle of the night. Just like a fever is characterized by a high temperature, or a headache is characterized by your head hurting.

This doctor stuff isn't so hard.

There's also a school of thought it isn't a sleep disorder at all, but a natural sleep pattern where you return to sleep in about an hour and a half. That makes sense. You need time to recharge from all that sleeping before you can go back and sleep some more.

Anyway, I'm sorry this post isn't funnier, smarter or better written.

Maybe if I wasn't so tired...

With all due respect

It's funny how people who use the phrase "with all due respect" treat it as if it's a get-out-of-jail-free card to tell you to go f#%k yourself.

I overheard a conversation at the agency I'm working at today, and an account person was on the phone saying, "With all due respect, that absolutely is not what we agreed to and I don't know why you think I'd ever agree to something like that."

It may have been her husband. There's no way of knowing.

I do hope it wasn't a client, vendor, new business prospect or freelancer, because thinking a saying gives you carte blanche to insult someone and actually having carte blanche are two different things.

With all due respect, you're a freakin' lamebrain if you think otherwise.

The Long Ranger

I'm not usually one to go by what the critics say. I'm of the belief that whether it's music, movies, plays books or restaurants, a person should see it for themself then make up their own mind. One man's ceiling is another man's blockbuster and all that.

I found out last night this is not true in all cases. When it comes to The Lone Ranger - and you'll thank me for this - listen to the critics.

I can count on half a hand the number of movies I've ever walked out of. Even the crappiest movies have a great line or moment, a memorable effect to get you talking, a nuanced performance in the midst of the badness. An actor who's always great no matter how terrible the script is. The Lone Ranger has none of that.

I couldn't get out of the theater fast enough.

It's just a mess with an identity crisis. Does it want to be a drama with a touch of comedy, or a comedy with some drama? It's supposed to be a period piece, yet even the Indians in the tee-pees are saying things like "not so much."

You never really think about a consistent tone in a movie until there isn't one.

Also, when did it become necessary to explain the origins of every character's situation, how they got to be who they are. It seems like the first five hours of the film are letting us know everyone's backstory. Whatever happened to just hitting the road running - making the assumption the audience is already familiar with the character, which would be the point of making a film starring a character everyone knows, or giving them credit for having enough imagination to just jump in and hang on for the ride.

This is not a problem unique to this film. Tell me again how Superman got here, why he can fly and why bullets bounce off him. I didn't get it the first seven times.

Regardless of what you know about movies, I'm sure you know editors play an essential part in shaping a film. Apparently The Lone Ranger didn't have one. It seems like every single frame they shot is on the screen. It is the most unnecessarily long and unwieldy film I've almost ever seen all the way through.

I'm sure my show from last night hasn't let out yet.

I had a special interest in seeing this film. Thanks to his friend's aunt who worked on it, my son and his friend went to the shoot in Moab and actually worked as production assistants for a few very hot days. I love my son, but even love has its limits. Mine stops at sitting through all twenty hours of The Long Ranger.

I like both Armie Hammer and Johnny Depp. But Hammer was a monumental bore ("Who was that masked man?" "Who cares?") and has nothing at all to work with in the way of a script. Depp is essentially recycling Jack Sparrow, only this time it's a crow instead of a bandana. His eccentricities are forced, and his Injun-talk is really just another version of Sparrow's slurred speech.

It was unusual to hear the Lone Ranger's signature line "Hi-yo Silver away!" coming from the audience instead of the screen as they walked out the door. BAM! Thank you, I'll be here all week. Tip your waitress.

If you want a Lone Ranger story that's actually entertaining, try this one by Jay Thomas about Clayton Moore, who played him for years on the TV show a lot of us grew up with:

Drinking problem

I think the same thing every time I eat at one of those restaurants that has a menu with more pages than a Stephen King novel. Exactly how many choices do we really need in life?

Especially when it comes to something so seemingly simple as water.

The case you're looking at overflowing with water bottles is at a store called Lazy Acres (no it wasn't named after me - but it could've been). This store replaced our local Bristol Farms. When we bought our house the sellers (don't get me started) must've told us a thousand times there was a Bristol Farms a few minutes away. Apparently this was a very big selling point. My theory is they thought if they kept saying it often enough we'd be distracted from the water damage in the back of the house that, ironically, they didn't mention even once.

I know I'm still talking about water but I may be veering off into another post.

Anyway, it just seems to beg the question: how different can all these waters really be?

The one that caught my eye was this nice, expensive bottle of essentia water, which says it's "super hydrating water" right on the label. Color me old-fashioned, but I thought all water was hydrating. I guess super hydrating means it's wetter than other water.

If I wanted to be super hydrated - and I'm not saying I do - wouldn't I just drink more of my regular water?

There also seems to be a kind of water intimidation happening in certain restaurants now. Waiters will offer patrons a choice of bottled water or tap water. The question alone is designed to pressure you into bottled water because obviously people of refinement and good taste would never choose tap water.

On Penn & Teller's Showtime show, they did a great exposé on the marketing fraud that is bottled water. You can see it here (it starts at around the 16:47 mark, just after the piece exposing the fraud that is Feng Shui).

If you're thirsty for some good advice, here it is: fill your bottle up from the tap. City and state municipalities have much stronger laws and safeguards regarding drinking water and what does or doesn't go into it than the bottled water companies.

Of course if you like your water super hydrating, alkaline infused, vapor distilled, with added electrolytes or negative ions, then by all means keep dipping into the college fund and buying bottled water.

But don't be surprised when your Starbuck's money dries up.

Don't ask: Picking up at the airport

So, this is the second in my series called Don't ask. The first was on moving, and now airport pickup.

Don't get me wrong. It's not that I've never picked anyone up from the airport. It's just that unless you're my wife or one of my kids - and I'll know if you're lying - I'm not doing it.

I know what you're saying. If I don't pick you up, how will you get home? Admittedly, it's a dilemma. If only there were some kind of transport, a carriage service if you will that you could hire with the currency of the realm to give you a ride to the address of your choosing.

See where I'm going here? Because where I'm not going is to pick you up after your flight.

So safe travels, smooth sailing, and happy landings. I'll see you when you get home.

Right after the cab drops you off there.