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.

Stop me if you've read this one before

I’m not sure whether it’s a bad habit (God knows I have plenty of those to spare), my failing memory or the fact I’m a believer in the old adage that great writers steal from other writers. Especially when the other writers are themselves.

I’ve written over 1,181 posts on here—I don’t have to tell you. And almost all of them have their own clever little word play titles.

But as you may have noticed, because I know you’ve read, cataloged and committed them all to memory, many of them unintentionally and unconsciously share the same title.

For example I have two posts called Going Bananas. Three if you count the encore post of one of them. And while we’re on the subject, a lot of people, okay, a few people, alright fine, somebody asked me what the encore posts are. Well, they’re pretty much what they sound like.

Encore posts are reposting of pieces that were critically acclaimed, especially insightful, endlessly enlightening and are constantly being asked for, dare I say demanded, by my many grateful followers who appreciate quality writing and want to reread them over and over again.

Nah, I’m just funnin’ you. I slap up encore posts when I’m too lazy or tired to write a new one. Or I don’t feel like living up to that “quality writing” thing.

Where was I? Oh, right. I also have more than one post called With Friends Like These. And I think there’s more than one Here’s The Thing.

I’m not losing sleep over it. In fact I'm in good company. There are more than four movies called Monkey Business. Three called A Night To Remember. There’s more than one Gladiator, and more than one Twilight (one with vampires, one without).

I'm sure there are other examples, but I have to get going on tomorrow's post. I'm calling it Gone With the Wind. Either that or To Kill A Mockingbird.

I haven't decided yet.

Buckle up.

It's been a long while since I sat my ever expanding derriere down to write a blogpost. But the public, noticing a literary, insightful and humorous void in their lives has spoken.

Nah, I'm just messin' with you. No one even noticed. But it's a slow night and a great movie so here we go.

There was a time when the word "maverick" would conjure up images. To audiences of a certain age, it represents the long-running television show of the same name that starred the late, great James Garner. In more recent times, it brings to mind a certain former senator from Arizona who, in hindsight, might have been the last reasonable Republican before he lost his battle in 2018 to an aggressive brain cancer.

But thanks to Paramount Pictures, Tom Cruise and director Joseph Kosinski, "maverick" will heretofore only refer to one thing: the Top Gun sequel, Top Gun: Maverick.

Like this blogpost, it's been a long time coming—36 years since the first Top Gun film. I don't say this very often, but it was well worth the wait.

Not unlike my high school girlfriend, from the first frame the movie is thrilling, fast and wildly entertaining. Cruise is in top form again as Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, a Top Gun flight school instructor known for pushing the envelope and a healthy disregard for the rules.

He's joined by Jon Hamm, Jennifer Connelly and Miles Teller all at the top of their game.

Cruise has long been known for the authenticity he brings to his roles, whether it's hanging on the outside of a C-130 as it takes off in Mission Impossible, or hanging out a top floor of the Burj Kahlifa, the world's tallest building, in a different Mission Impossible.

In Top Gun: Maverick, he's actually in the cockpit of an F-18, actually taking off of an aircraft carrier, actually doing barrelrolls and actually in the seat during most of the dogfights.

It's an example of what Hollywood does best when it's firing on all afterburners. Pure adrenaline, pure entertainment, pure emotion. Just like my high school girlfriend (alright, I'll stop now).

Since this is definitely not a movie where you should be flying solo, my co-pilot for the afternoon was my good friend, esteemed colleague, fellow bronze medal curling champion and proprietor of Roundseventeen, Rich Siegel.

It was a little embarrassing when Rich and I left the theater after the movie, and we got stopped and asked several times if that was us in the beach volleyball scene. We get that a lot. Understandable, since we're both built so similarly to those actors. Like looking in a mirror.

Anyway, after I got home Rich texted me what he thought of the movie. He summed it up perfectly (no surprise), and I couldn't agree with him more.

Top Gun. Top Fun.

My high school girlfriend

If you know me, or follow this blog regularly—and if you do someone really should show you what a library looks like—you know once I get hold of a joke I like I hang on tight and ride it straight into the ground.

Now normally, after that last sentence, I'd follow it up with "Just like my high school girlfriend." It's my version of “That’s what she said” —an easy joke I've used numerous times in more posts than I can count. And I'm sure more posts than you wanted.

The good news is I'll be retiring that joke for awhile. The bad news is the reason why.

Yesterday I happened to be thinking about my actual high school girlfriend Sandy. She was never the one I referred to in the joke. In fact I never had a specific person in mind—it was just a funny line I could use over and over. And over.

Anyway, when I went to the Google to look up Sandy, what came up wasn't her Facebook profile or her Twitter account. The first thing I saw was her obituary. Turns out she passed away unexpectedly back in October. And even though I hadn't spoken with her in decades, it was still a gut punch that hit me like a ton of bricks.

I remember a few years after we broke up, we wound up getting together for a mini-reunion to catch up with each other's lives. What I found out was that Sandy had a very tough go of it in the years since I'd seen her. She'd had problems with drugs, which I knew she'd dabbled with in high school. She'd gotten married, but her husband was in prison for armed robbery, caught by undercover cops in the middle of a drug deal. And, while she was trying to figure her life out, she was back working at the same dead end data entry job for a car leasing company she'd had in high school.

According to the obituary, she moved to Florida in 2006, and had been working in the mortgage industry for Bank of America. Apparently she was a fairly high-ranking banking officer there. She’d also become a hardcore animal rights activist, and had eight dogs, a snake and an iguana—all of them rescues.

It was nice to read that in the years in between, Sandy seemed to have turned her life around and become an accomplished professional. I hope she was a happy one.

So again, I'm retiring the "high school girlfriend" joke for awhile. While it was never about her, now I can’t say it without thinking of her, even though I know she'd appreciate it. Hey, funny then, funny now.

Besides, that line's not the real joke. The real joke is thinking people who were once special to you will always be around. The punchline is they won't.

God bless you Sandy. You meant the world to me and you'll be in my heart forever. Rest in peace.

'Twas the night before Christmas - 2016 Edition

This is the third year in a row I've put up this post on Christmas Eve. It's become somewhat of a holiday tradition. I say somewhat, because nobody really expects or wants it, but I keep posting it anyway. It's like Deck The Halls or Do You Hear What I Hear. The request lines aren't jammed, yet you hear it a lot. Besides, normally I'd be doing all my last minute errands like eating all the cookies the wife made for tomorrow, and dipping into the pumpkin pie early. But it is the season of giving, and damn it, if we know anything about me we know I'm a giver.

I think the best gift any of us can ask for is that 2016 ends as planned, and that we all survive the next few years. I know, Mr. Glass Half Full.

So hug those you love, make sure they know, and please to enjoy this little diddy one more time. And the very merriest Christmas to you and yours.

‘Twas the night before Christmas in the agency halls
Not a planner was stirring, there were no client calls
The glasses were hung by the conference room with care
In hopes the Christmas party would soon begin there

Creative directors nestled with campaigns that were dead
While visions of Gold Lions danced in their head
They’d talk of production and work they had done
It was true this year’s party would be nothing but fun

When out in the lobby there rose such a clatter
I sprang from the status meeting to see what was the matter
Was it the new intern wearing an Urban Outfitters jacket
What could possibly be making all of that racket

With a little old driver, so lively and quick
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name

Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now Prancer and Vixen!
Let’s go in the kitchen and see what they’re fixen!
To the corner office and just down the hall
They found trays of hors de oeuvres and ate them all!

The staff would look forward to the holiday bonus
Saying "as hard as we’ve worked of course they would owe us"
The general manager spoke, it was quite a summit
He told us all how profits had started to plummet

Cutbacks, downsizing, raise-freezes, client losses
He would if he could, but not so the bosses
He charted the bonus with marker not chalk
He wrote on the white board “That’s just crazy talk.”

They showed the work that’d been done through the year
But with no bonuses the staff was not of good cheer
Sure there was music and dancing for those who were able
Even some shenanigans on the conference room table

Soon it was over, soon it was gone
All the carrying they’d planned had been carried on
The party was finished, the tinsel unhung
The songs they were singing had all been sung

After bad luck like this, what else could they add
It was Christmas, and really, things weren’t that bad
Until he exclaimed as his limo drove out of sight
Happy pink slip to all, and to all a good night!

Stop me if you've read this one before

I have a bad habit. Well, I have more than one. But I’m not talking about my addiction to virtually any kind of bread, how I leave near-empty food containers in the fridge or my compulsion to binge Breaking Bad whenever I have a free minute.

No, the one I’m talking about is repeating myself.

The one I’m talking about is repeating myself.

See what I did there?

Case in point. I just put up a post called Drive Time about the agency I’m at, the fact it’s at the beach and how nice the commute is. Come to find out the problem is I’ve put up nearly the exact same post two other times – Tsunami Adjacent and Mourning The Commute. In fact, I've even used the exact same photo a couple of times.

Granted, it’s a good story, but let's be honest for minute—although I've never figured out the upside of doing that—it's not that good. And I’m just a little embarrassed I’ve told it here three times.

I worry that I repeat subjects. Being who I am, I think it may be symptomatic, an early form of dementia setting in and I'll be the last one to know. But then it occurs to me I’ve been cranking out this blog for years, and the truth of the matter is occasionally I run out of topics I think are worth ranting and raving about. Apparently when that happens, I unintentionally go back to the same well and write about something I've already written about. Not that it's always a bad thing. After all, some things are worth repeating.

Although I'm pretty sure this isn't one of them.

I know the nine people who read this on their iPads while they’re sitting on the toilet probably aren’t paying that much attention, and had I not pointed it out, wouldn’t have even known I was telling the same story again and again.

But you’re all paying good money for this, and I didn’t want you to…wait a minute, you’re not paying any money for this. Suddenly I don’t feel so bad.

Anyway, I'll try not to repeat myself as often. And if I do, I’ll try to keep it to the most interesting and popular subjects only.

By the way, don’t miss tomorrow’s post on how I sometimes repeat myself. It’ll be a good one.

But who's counting

Believe it or not, this is my 200th Rotation and Balance post for this year. I know, I'm as shocked as you are.

I think the reason I made it to this particular landmark is I'm an exceptionally prolific writer. I'm also disciplined, making it a point to carve out enough time each day to hone and craft my words so that they convey my thoughts precisely and accurately. Plus I have opinions and things to say on a wide variety of topics - hence the tagline in the header about perfecting random.

You know I'm yankin' your chain right? I just want to have more posts this year than Round Seventeen. So far so good, but the year's not over.

The truth is I enjoy writing the blog, and I've heard rumors at least three of you enjoy reading it. And even though I usually like working a big room, that's enough for me to keep doing it (a grateful nation breathes a sigh of relief).

Anyway, since I have to get my 201st ready tomorrow, I'll keep this short.

I don't have any idea what tomorrow's subject will be, and I haven't set aside any time to write it. Maybe I'll slap it together on my lunch break.

I'm just that disciplined.

Hepinstall!

I like to think I have a pretty objective assessment of my talent when it comes to writing. Essentially, I'm not bad. In fact most of the time I'm pretty good. And occasionally, I bat one out of the park.

On those days, when I'm feeling pretty good about myself knowing I've said exactly what I wanted to say, I walk with a little spring in my step. A certain joie de vivre if you will, knowing I've strung a few choice words together people will enjoy reading and thinking about.

Those are the days I try not to think about Kathy Hepinstall. Because if I do, then I have to face the cold, bright glare of harsh reality that I can't come close to how very good she is.

Hepinstall is a writer's writer. Reading her words are a joy. I don't know how she manages to make me feel awe and jealousy at the same time, but somehow she pulls it off.

She has the priceless ability to make readers feel deeply, surprise them and then leave them breathless. For a sample of what I'm talking about, have a gander at her latest blogpost Jesus Would Take The Middle Seat.

I like to imagine the words don't come easy to her, and that she struggles with the same angst and durang I do every time she faces a blank page. I'd like to think that. It would bring me enormous misery-loves-company joy. But reading her work, seeing the ease, flow and specificity of the words tells another story.

Kathy's also written four or five novels - I've lost count. My idea of being productive is leaving a note on the door for the UPS guy. Clearly we have different approaches.

If I were half the writer she is, I'd be twice the writer I am.

Which tells me I should start thinking about math teacher as an alternative career choice.

Daughter's choice

Tonight, I decided to let my beautiful, smart, funny and giving daughter choose the subject of this evenings' post.

Shockingly, she said it should be about her. Specifically, her unbelievable and unrelenting work ethic. A deal's a deal so here we go.

In the past few weeks, I've wondered just who's daughter she actually is. She's been sequestered in her room, night after night, studying history, english, biology, geometry, Spanish, bible (Christian school, hello?) with friends on FaceTime.

It's not that she was lagging behind. Some of the subjects she already had an A in, and some a B+. But settling just isn't part of her DNA from either side of the family.

So she's worked relentlessly this semester to bring all her grades up to an A or A+ (which by the way she's doing with well-deserved success).

It's the part about working relentlessly that makes me think we're not really related. As you know by now, my idea of working relentlessly is watching all three seasons of House Of Cards in one sitting. I know what you're saying, but if you think it's so easy let's see you do it smart guy. Here's a tip: take your bathroom breaks during the credits.

Anyway, all this is to say I'm beyond proud of my girl for developing a work ethic that'll serve her well in life, and propel her on to make her mark on the world in a spectacular way.

Which she'll need to do to take care of me. Cause watching all this TV isn''t getting me anywhere.

It's empty in here

As anyone who blogs will tell you, the challenge is constantly coming up with things to write about. In fact, there are more than a few people who read this blog who would say that I rarely meet the challenge.

Anyway, I don't post every day, but once in awhile I get a rush of confidence and a false sense of my abilities and go on a writing/posting jag. I'm in the middle of one now, which makes it even harder to keep coming up with things to post about. People more prolific than me don't seem to have a problem with it (I'm looking at you Round Seventeen).

All to say today I've hit the blogpost wall. I wrote about it way back in the days of aught '10 (yes, that's the correct spelling of aught - writer, hello?) in a post called Nothing Is Something.

The wall is a moving target, and can be made up of anything from "I don't feel like doing it right now." to "Don't know what to talk about." to "Squirrel!"

Here's the thing: it's Sunday, it's warm out and I'm tired. I didn't get home from the Magic Castle until after 2 a.m Saturday morning, and I just got home from seeing Kingsman: The Secret Service, which was about an hour too long.

But I do recognize the responsibility I have to my five readers, so I apologize for the lack of captivating reading today. I absolutely promise I'll do better tomorrow.

No, my fingers aren't crossed behind my back. Why do you ask?