Not quite all over now

I'm not gonna lie. Once I've spent all my money—and I have again and again (in case you didn't know) on Springsteen tickets—my concert budget is pretty much shot. And there are very few bands I'm willing to pony up a few day rates to see.

But the one band I'd be willing to do it for is The Rolling Stones.

I've always liked the Stones. Never been hardcore about them, but even though it's only rock and roll, I increasingly appreciate their stature, influence and longevity. I feel like they're a band I should see.

The original punk band, the Stones were always the bad boys in contrast to the squeaky clean (at least in the beginning) Beatles. And though they've achieved monumental success, and I expect have gotten plenty of satisfaction in every way possible at this point, they're still out there doing what they do, despite being decades past having to do anything they don't want to.

Jagger still parades around stage with his arms and legs jerking around wildly, like he's a marionette being worked by a drunk puppeteer or a 75-year old British grandmother on a bender. Keith Richards still has a sly, knowing smile at the fact he's alive, along with the most distinctive guitar in rock and roll. I don't know what the hell Ron Wood is doing, but he was the first kiss for this account executive I used to work with, so there's that. And Charlie Watts just makes all the jazz intricacies and nuances he hides in the beat seem so effortless.

I can't explain why I feel this sudden urgency to see them. Maybe it's because it doesn't take Jedi instincts to know at some point they're going to decide they've had enough and call it quits. And while I'd like to think time is on my side, deep down I know it's not.

From all accounts, at this point their show is more greatest hits than not. I'm okay with that. In the same way I saw Sinatra, Sammy Davis Jr. and Elvis, I'd just like to be able to say I saw The Stones live once.

What I'd really like is to score tickets to the small venue show they do before every arena show. Last time they were at the 20,000-seat Staples Center in Los Angeles, the night before they did an impromptu performance at the 350-seat Echoplex Club in Silverlake. Guess how fast they sold out?

Oh well. You can't always get what you want.

Where's my parade?

I'm not gonna lie—I'm feeling a recognition shortage when it comes to appreciation for the many things I do for others. As you can imagine, being an only child makes this feeling of not being the center of the universe something I'm completely unfamiliar with.

Here's the most recent example of how I go out of my way to make life better for the people I love, as well as those around me.

Yesterday, I realized the family was double booked for Saturday night, August 12th. I know, right? We had tickets to both Straight No Chaser at the Greek Theater and to The Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Night Time at the Ahmanson Theater at the Music Center. A decision had to be made, and quickly.

Realizing immediately I couldn't change the concert date, but as an Ahmanson subscriber could exchange those tickets, I called the Music Center box office. I talked with Raphael, a subscriber concierge who spoke with a slightly affected accent and more than a hint of condescension in his voice.

Nevertheless, I persisted.

After finding some equal ground and achievable objectives we could agree on, Raphael then exchanged my four tickets for a week earlier, considerably better orchestra seats, much further up and dead center. Sure, he let me know it wasn't an even exchange and there was an additional fee required, but I didn't hesitate. I fired up the VISA card and paid it.

Giver, remember?

It wasn't easy or fun, took time out of my day and cost me money. But I did it for the same reason Walter White started his meth empire: for the family.

Maybe it's because I work in advertising, where recognition is a form of currency, awards are highly sought after (even if you don't go to Cannes to get them) and getting attention is the name of the game. Or maybe it's just being an only child and a glory hog.

Who's to say?

All I know is recognition or not, I'll keep going out of my way to take on the jobs that have to be done that no one else wants to do.

For example tonight, I'm setting the table for the family. Whether anyone notices or not.

That's the ticket

There are a lot of people I've seen in concert not necessarily because I'm a fan, but because I think I should see them. The reason can range anywhere from they're a living legend, like when I saw Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr. at the Greek Theater, to they may not be around much longer, like when I saw Elvis at what was then the Intercontinental Hotel in Vegas (although technically my parents dragged me to that one, but I can still say I saw him).

One group that falls into both categories is The Rolling Stones.

Every time they've ever toured, I've sworn to myself I'd see them. And after hearing this morning they're going to tour for the first time since 2006, I made the promise again.

What's stopped me in the past has been money. Now, if you know anything about me, and really, we don't have any secrets, you know I'm a pampered poodle: I don't sit in the back of the plane. I don't stay in the standard hotel room. And I don't sit in the nosebleed seats at concerts, unless it's Springsteen and those are the only seats left. I'm guessing you already knew that too.

Stones tickets have traditionally gone for between $300-$600 face value. And me being me, guess which ones I want? That's $1200 before parking if I take the wife. I've never paid that to see anyone. Okay, well maybe once I might've paid close to that (twice as much) for front row seats to Springsteen at the Christic Institute concert with Jackson Browne and Bonnie Raitt. But it was his first concert in years and all acoustic. Front row seats, how often's that gonna happen? It was my money, I earned it and I don't have to defend it to you dammit, so how about you back off.

Glad we settled that.

Anyway, as we all know with Ticketbastards, er, Ticketmaster, the ticket price is just the beginning.

While hotels and airlines have just recently caught on, Ticketmaster has been tacking on bullshit fees to the face cost of a ticket for years. So even if you're seeing a show with a $65 face value ticket, you could wind up paying around a $100 after the extra charges.

Bands have fought Ticketmaster. So have fans. But the bottom line is they're not about to change. They don't exactly have a monopoly, but they have a majority of contracts with the major concert venues across the country. So it's pay or stay home.

I haven't made up my mind if I'm going to pony up for the Stones tickets this time, although I'm thinking I just might. Because you can't fight the law of averages forever.

I probably spend more time contemplating this than I should. I know it's only rock and roll.

But I like it.

All flash, no depth

On every generation iPhone that comes out, one of the most predictable things Apple always waxes on about glowingly is the camera. Right now, it's up to eight megapixels, and has the latest motion steadying, auto-flash, auto-focus, easy zoom, flux capacitor technology so every picture is crystal clear and perfect all the way up to 88 miles an hour.

Their website even boasts "So anyone anywhere can take an amazing photo at any time."

Clearly, Apple believes they've used technology to turn us all into Annie Leibovitz, taking award-worthy pictures of even the most mundane and insignificant objects wherever we go. How else do you explain an average of 465 photos per 1GB devoted to them on every iPhone.

Apple is so confident of their phone camera, they show these pictures - among others - on their website as examples of the kind of results one can expect.

,

I was at an event the other night. It was a one-of-a-kind Tribute to the Beatles, with the two surviving band members performing. As you'd expect, it was a once in a lifetime photo opportunity. Fortunately, or so I thought, I had my iPhone camera and all it's picture-improving technology with me.

You should know that I'm a steady hand and have a fairly good eye. Additionally, because I've shot my fair share of commercials, I use the "one more for protection" approach to taking pictures at an event like this, almost guaranteeing there will be a clear, great, usable shot. Almost.

Here are some of iPhone pics from the event:

The idea perpetuated by Apple that an iPhone camera eliminates the need for a real camera is absurd. Just ask any photographer (real ones, not me).

This seems to be one of those lessons I have to keep learning. I have to stop shooting (see what I did there?) for convenience, and opt for the camera that's going to give me the results I expect. Even if it doesn't fit handily in my pocket.

Next time I'm attending an event that's bound to be filled with Kodak moments (look it up), I can definitely picture myself using one of these to capture the memories:

Dr. Sarah

The Christmas season brings many things with it, not the least of which is Christmas handbell concerts. So tonight, I was at the third handbell concert for my daughter's high school, because my daughter is in the handbell choir.

But let me paraphrase a question: why is this handbell night different from all others?

The answer is because my daughter, whom shall be known from this night forward as Dr. Sarah, sprang into action.

I'm going to be completely impartial here, but as I was watching my beautiful, poised, talented, smiling daughter play the first song in the set, I along with the rest of the parents in the audience noticed Kaitlyn, the girl playing handbells next to her, was very suddenly in a great deal of distress. She stopped playing, was very disoriented, was trying to find some direction to walk in, the color drained from her face, she couldn't focus on any one thing and she was clearly about to faint.

Dr. Sarah sprang into action. She grabbed Kaitlyn, held her both up and still, speaking comforting words to her while Kaitlyn's father quickly ran up from the audience, scooped up his little girl and took her outside.

The concert continued, but as you might imagine in a room full of parents, most of whom have known these kids since kindergarten, they were very concerned with Kaitlyn's condition even as they listened to the music.

After the handbell choir, the high school orchestra took the stage. But before they begain playing, the teacher/conductor made an announcement that Kaitlyn was okay.

The roomful of parents erupted into relieved applause.

Afterwards, Dr. Sarah told me that Kaitlyn had fallen off the stage before the performance, and came down particularly hard on her ankle. She either severely sprained or possibly even fractured it. What looked like dehydration or the onset of the flu from where we were sitting was actually shock, her body finally surrendering to the pain of the fall.

Thanks to Dr. Sarah and her cat-like reflexes, Kaitlyn didn't fall and risk even worse injury. Thank to her compassionate words, Kaitlyn didn't spiral into any more of a panic than she was already in.

I'm proud of my daughter for the musician she is.

But that's nothing compared to how proud I am for the caring person she's become.