Encore post: Book Report

I've taken the easy way out this fine Monday morning (again). I was planninng on writing a new post about a musician I discovered over the weekend, but then the Google started giving me all sorts of Captcha issues with embedded videos in Blogger. The musician post will be here tomorrow.

In the meantime, you can happily fill up a few minutes with this encore post about my pal Rich's fine book. Now I'm not saying I expect a commission on any additional book sales as a result of this post. Then again I'm not saying I don't.

Monitization. It's all the rage. Anyway, please to enjoy.

I don't make a lot of money from this blog. And by a lot I mean none.

However being in advertising, it's occurred to me from time to time I probably could break open a few corporate wallets by selling ad space on here. After all, the very desirable demographics of my readership are the same as Disneyland's - 8 to 80. Plus it is the happiest blog on earth, so there's that.

Advertisers would have a direct line to the 11 people who read this blog on a regular basis. I know that may not sound like much, but it's 11 people they wouldn't have otherwise.

Before I go climbing up the corporate ladder asking for money, I probably should have proof of concept: an example of how well advertising might work on this site, and could work for them.

So as a trial run, I'm going to plug my pal Rich Siegel's book, Round Seventeen & 1/2: The Names Have Been Changed to Protect the Inefficient.

The title comes from his popular blog of the same name. In it, Rich covers a diverse variety of topics like advertising, sex, the situation in the middle East, why he sucked at being a creative director and poo. More than one post about poo.

Alright, maybe not exactly the same demographics as Disneyland.

Anyway, I haven't read the book yet. But I had lunch with Rich a couple weeks ago, and I did get to hold a proof copy of it. And I have to say, I was duly impressed. It had everything the great, classic books throughout time have had.

There are pages, lot's of 'em. And on almost every single page, words. Lots of 'em. Like Moby Dick and The Bible, it also has a front cover and a back cover.

What more do you need to know? If you need a good laugh, and really, who of us doesn't, then pick up a copy of his book today. You can order your copy here.

And once you're done with it, if you don't mind I'd like to borrow it. Because, you know, twelve bucks is twelve bucks.

And we're back

It’s the age old question: if a blogger puts up a post in the forest, does it make a difference? Okay, so maybe that’s not exactly how it goes but you get my continental drift.

There’s no easy way to say it, so I’ll just own it. When it comes to timely RNB postings, for the past year I’ve been what I would euphemistically call slacking. You might call that old news.

Whichever, the truth is that the divisive mood of the country, lack of anything meaningful to say (like that’s ever stopped me before) and much better bloggers than myself—I’m looking at you Round Seventeen, Kingdom of Failure and AdAged—have all conspired to put me in a “yeah, I’ll get around to it when I get around to it” frame of mind for some time now. In fact the last new post I put up here was on 9/12 talking about 9/11.

But it’s time to change my evil lazy ways. It’s a new year, and with it comes a new attitude.

All of us here at Rotation and Balance International Headquarters have renewed our commitment, yet again, to being much more prolific this year. Which given the underwhelming 2023 output shouldn’t be too hard.

Now, you might ask yourself what's brought on this renewed energy for filling up blank pages with my musings and ramblings. Well here it is.

I saw someone online refer to Cadet Bonespurs as IQ45. I’m not missing any chances to use that one.

Production is down

There are a couple of ways you can tell this blog hasn't exactly been one of my priorities this year.

First is the aching, lonely, abandoned feeling you've been experiencing deep in the pit of your stomach. The sense that something good is gone. That uneasy, anxiety-ridden, nagging feeling that asks, "Why can't he just give me my daily dose of humor, insight and wit I've relied on so dearly for the last ten years to get through my otherwise sad, mundane and ordinary day. Why?"

The other way to tell is the chart pictured here.

When I started blogging in 2009, you can see I just put up a couple of posts. I was getting my toes wet in the blogging waters of the interwebs. Then for the next five trips around the sun, I posted over 100 articles each year. Enthusiasm was high, people were commenting, I was confident I had something worth saying to fill up all those posts.

Of course, 2015 was the best year for this blog. Not for the quality ("quality", good one) of the posts, or the subject matter, but for the fact it was the year I beat out my close personal friend and fashion consultant Rich Siegel of Round Seventeen fame in my imaginary race to keep up with, and exceed, his prolific output of online articles.

Just pausing for a second to re-live the victory.

Ok, I'm back.

Apparently that was the year I peaked, because as you can see the following years took a precipitous drop in postings despite a slight upward tick last year. This year doesn't even average out to two postings a month. And I think I know why.

Besides being the least disciplined writer you know, every time I begin to write a post it becomes political in nature. No surprise given my complete revulsion and disdain for the unstable genius we have for liar-in-chief. But after a day of political posts on Facebook and the sewer that is now Twitter, it just seems difficult to add anything of meaning to the discussion that isn't already being covered a thousand different ways on other channels. And writing about anything else seems meaningless and a wasted effort, given the dire state of our country and our democracy.

I just light up a room don't I?

But writing is a muscle, and if you don't exercise it you lose it. And God knows I've lost enough muscle in my life. So I'm going to start thinking about maybe making the effort to perhaps begin posting a little more frequently if I think I have something worth talking about.

A grateful nation breathes a sigh of relief.

Admit it, you're feeling better already.

What Papa said

Who's up for a really passive aggressive blogpost? I knew you'd say that. Here we go.

I'm going to have to disagree with my pal Rich Siegel, wedding coordinator to the stars and proprietor of the infamous Round Seventeen blog. In one of his more recent posts, A Celebration of Birth, he makes a rather large, revealing statement near the end that sums up the difference between his approach to writing and mine.

I quote: "The thing is, I like to write."

The thing is, I do not.

Now, just so I don't sound ungrateful or unprofessional (and I may be too late already), let me clarify something right up front: I love writing for a living. You know, the kind that's creatively challenging, let's me dress like a fifteen-year old every day, surrounds me with wildly creative, funny people and pays the bills. When I say I don't like it, I'm talking more about the idea of sitting down to write as much as the actual act itself.

And of course, one man's essay is another man's agony. Rich likes it. I treat every assignment like I'm going to my execution.

I understand the best writers make it look easy. But by its nature, it's one of the most difficult of the arts.

In fact after juggling, crowd estimating and balloon animals, maybe the most difficult.

I suppose like most writers, if it came easier I'd enjoy it more. But that's Hemingway's point (I'm in no way comparing myself to Hemingway—my sentences are much longer). If you're going to reveal your true self in words, you have to be willing to go to the deepest, truest and most painful place.

I don't like going to those places. I prefer New York or Las Vegas.

If you've followed this blog for any amount of time—and really, you're never going to get those minutes back—then you know there are a few posts on here where, instead of going for the snarky laugh or easy shots, I've actually shined a light, dull though it may be, on my true self, my real life and my inner thoughts.

Not that anyone was asking for that. I know for a fact no one was paying for it.

The reason that kind of writing causes me nothing but anxiety and apprehension is because of this almost crippling fear I'll have nothing to say. In fact, a lot of people think I have over 900 posts to prove that.

My former office wife Janice MacLeod, who's written four maybe five books (who can keep count) including the fabulous Paris Letters, always told me two things. First, that venom was my best medium. I still don't believe that to be true, although that's just what someone whose best medium was venom would say. The other thing she said was just sit down, stare at the blank screen and eventually an idea for something to write about will come to me.

Again, 900 posts prove that may not always be the case.

My close, personal friend Cameron Young is always just completing or just starting a new screenplay. His enthusiasm for original ideas, story structure and writing is inspiring. Apparently not inspiring enough for me to put down the potato chips and the remote, stop bingeing Breaking Bad (again) and write a screenplay of my own. But, you know, inspiring nonetheless.

In spite of my unwavering resistance, all three of these talented, imaginative, disciplined writers are incorrigible encouragers, supporters and advocates of my writing. It is appreciated to a degree I'll never be fully able to express.

Certainly not in words.

I have another problem with opening up as a writer. And I say this with love—frankly, it's none of your business. As an only child, I've always felt the idea of sharing was just crazy talk. But I do recognize that sometimes it makes for good reading. So, you know, anything (almost) for my art.

What am I saying? That Hemingway was right. And if you think by reading my blog you somehow can glean the joy and sense of fulfillment from my words that writing brings me, I only have one thing to say.

You're reading the wrong blog.

How many

Never let it be said I take the easy way out. I'm not saying I don't. What I'm saying is I don't want you to say it.

Look, here's the thing: it's 11 at night, and I'm tired from a day filled with all sorts of unexpected emergencies, new-dog frustrations (post about him peeing on the barbecue coming soon) and a visit with the chiropractor that was more painful than the pain I went in for. In other words, I could use a few laughs.

So a light bulb went off in my head: how many light bulb jokes could I tell before I bored myself? Notice I wasn't concerned about boring you - I figured I passed that finish line about three-hundred posts ago.

Anyway, lets see if we can find out.

How many Oregonians does it take to change a light bulb? Five. One to change the bulb and four more to chase off the Californians who have come up to relate to the experience.

How many jugglers does it take to change a light bulb? One, but it takes three light bulbs.

How many Zen masters does it take to change a light bulb? Two. One to change it, and one not to change it.

How many cops does it take to change a light bulb? None. It turned itself in.

How many members of U2 does it take to change a light bulb? One. Bono holds the bulb and the world revolves around him.

How many actors does it take to change a light bulb? Just one. They don't like to share the spotlight.

How many Apple employees does it take to change a light bulb? Seven. One to change it and six to design the t-shirt.

Alright, I'm completely bored - I can't even imagine how you feel. I promise I'll try to do better and put a little more effort into tomorrows' post.

But for now, how many tired, sleep-deprived, vapor-locked bloggers does it take to end a post? Just one.

Talking TED

Although I have almost 800 posts that might make you think otherwise, I actually have a lot of things to say about a variety of subjects - random though they may be.

Well thought out ideas. Inspirational, motivating stories based on my own experiences. And funny. I'm nothing if not funny.

Ask anyone who knows me - as well as anyone can know someone - and they'll tell you I like playing a big room. Plus thanks to serving a little time early on in the telemarketing industry ("Hi, my name is Jeff. How does two-weeks a year in a Peruvian timeshare sound?), I can rock a headset microphone like nobody's business.

I mention these things because they're all essential ingredients for giving TED Talks.

If you're not familiar with them, TED Talks are inspiring, enlightening, humorous and often surprising lectures on a variety of subjects. Everything from how to improve education, pancreatic cancer detection, how not to become an obsolete know-it-all (necessary viewing for creative directors) and many, many other topics.

I bring all this up because I'd like to take the stage and give a TED Talk. If not me, who? If not now, when? My 18-minute lecture would have a snappy title, like Say It With Cash or I'm Jewish-We Don't Do That.

The good news for me is I can actually be nominated to be a TED Talk speaker.

I'll bet you know what's coming next.

I'd like you, dear reader, to help me get a TED Talk of my own. You can go here to find out how to nominate me. I'm sure they get hundreds of nominations each year, but I'm not going to let a little thing like that stop me. As Han Solo put it so eloquently, "Never tell me the odds." Besides, if you do not play you cannot win.

So tell your friends, get out the vote and let TED know you'd like to hear what I have to say.

As long as the subject's not How To Make Money With Your Blog I think I'll be okay.

Next

On the menu bar at the top of this blog, just like every other Blogger blog, is a nav link like the one above (although not nearly as pixelated). It's kind of like Amazon's "You might also be interested in..." feature. It's the eHarmony of blog sites. It's the match.com of blogspot.com

You see where I'm going here.

I don't know if you've ever clicked on it, but I have a few times. I'm not quite sure what algorithm design they use to make the connection between one blog and the next.

But let me just say this. If you like ROTATION AND BALANCE - and what's not to like? - the "next blog" button tells me that, for reasons only it knows, you might also be interested in:

Around the block

It's not hard to tell I'm not the world's most prolific writer/blogger. I'm also not the world's thinnest, but hey, who the f#&@ asked you?

I'd like to blame it on writer's block, but that would be too easy an out. Let's just call it for what it is: I've been a slug for the last couple of weeks.

In the time since I last posted, my friend Rich posted eight times to his blog. I'm constantly amazed at not just the quantity, but the quality of his posts. A prolific, thoughtful, humorous writer saying the many things that need to be said. That or a desperate cry for attention. You make the call.

Whichever, I should probably take a page from his book (I'd have to take a page from his book cause obviously I'm not writing any books of my own). I need to post more regularly.

I think if you start a blog, there's a responsibility to keep it fresh and interesting. Give the readers something new almost every time they visit. Of course, that pre-supposes I have readers. And now that I think about it, no one but me seems particularly upset there hasn't been a post in two weeks. Crap. That's motivating.

And the pisser is it's not like there aren't things to talk about. Penn State. Ashton and Demi. Iranian nuclear facilities that Israel is going to take out. Herman "No that's not a cigar, I am happy to see you" Cain. iPad 3. iPhone 5. Chinese spacecraft (launch one capsule and in a half hour you want to launch another one). The reopened Natalie Wood death investigation. That guy who took a shot at the White House. Justin Bieber.

Okay. Maybe not Justin Bieber.

Anyway, even if it's just for my own well-being, even if supply exceeds demand, I'm going to post more often.

It's like Lawrence Kasdan said, "Being a writer is like having homework every night for the rest of your life."

I was never very good at homework either.

For a few dollars more

Times are tough. Everyone I know - including me - is doing everything they can to keep their bank accounts from hitting an iceberg.

Because I write this blog, this fabulous, random, not too personally revealing, often funny yet thought-provoking blog on Blogger, I'm eligible to use Google's AdSense.

It's a program where Google gets to place ads on my posts, and I get to cash the checks they send me.

On the surface, not a bad deal.

All I have to do is write posts with words that will trigger targeted ads to magically appear on this site. And then, to make the kind of scratch I'm hoping to, people have to click on them. A lot of people.

My friend Janice tried this for awhile on her blog. I think she made enough for a small latte at one of her Parisian coffee bistros.

Oddly enough, that's not what Google would lead you to think.

They like you to see pictures like the one of this guy holding a check from them for almost $133K. That's a lot of clicking going on.

By the way, if that's a real check, more power to him.

I'm in advertising. I've written plenty of web banner ads. I don't know anyone in or out of the business who's ever clicked on one of them for non-work related purposes. They've certainly never clicked on one to buy anything.

So after careful thought and consideration, I think I'm going to opt for keeping this site uncluttered and ad-free. I see enough of them at work.

I know there will be lean times when I'll be filled with regret for not having done it. Times I'll think how nice it would be to have that money in my pocket.

Like for example when the kids need school supplies or new shoes.

It's okay. Besides, that's what crap tables are for.