A little bitmoji

Almost every time I text with a good friend of mine, at some point she'll reply with a caricature of herself. When I asked what it was, she said, "They're Bitmoji's! You have to get the app!"

Well, priding myself on knowing how to take direction, I decided to downloaded the Bitmoji app.

As you can see from the stunning likeness, the app allows me to build myself as a cartoon character who says all sorts of snappy little sayings I'd never say in real life.

Hello was the closest I could get to something I'd actually say.

Over time, I've found Bitmoji's are actually a handy shorthand when I don't feel like typing long, involved texts. But like personalized license plates, they're funny the first few times, and then not so much.

Anyway, if you're one of my many friends who text me, and I happen to be in the right frame of mind, I might just treat you to a reply with my own personal Bitmoji.

Although there's more than a good chance this is what it'll say.

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.

Book report

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.

Cheap laughs

If you know anything about me - and with over 655 posts I'd think you would by now - you know I'm an easy audience. I want to be entertained. I come to the show ready to laugh, willing to suspend disbelief.

I work in ad agencies. I suspend disbelief every day.

Like a great ad, humor should be simple, uncluttered. You should get it instantly. A joke doesn't have to be complex to be appreciated. And it shouldn't have to be explained. That goes for one-liners as well as stories.

Here's an example: what do you call a bear with no teeth? A gummy bear. Funny isn't the point, especially with that joke. The point is you got it immediately.

Let's try a story.

Saul and Maury are walking past a church when they see a sign in the window that reads "Become a Christian. 20 minutes. Will pay $10." Saul says to Maury, "I'm gonna do it. You wanna come with me?" Maury says, "No, I'll wait for you here." So Saul goes in the church, and Maury hangs around waiting for him. 20 minutes later, Saul comes out. Maury runs up to him and says, "So? Did you get your $10?" And Saul says, "Is that all you people think about?"

That joke right there is the reason I want to audition for the road company of this.

For me, there's nothing as entertaining as watching someone who really knows how to tell/sell a joke. It's what keeps Comedy Central in business. It's the reason comedy clubs with names like Giggles, Guffaws and Mr. Chuckles dot the landscape. It's why a lot of first dates become second dates.

It's also a personal barometer. With the endless meeting after meeting I have to be in every day at work, the way I judge whether they've been a successful (is there such a thing as a successful meeting?) is if I've been able to get the biggest laugh during the course of it. I know what you're thinking. But it's not so much an attention-getting maneuver as a survival tactic. While I'm thinking of something funny to say, it means I'm not listening to whatever they're droning on about. And there'll be another meeting in an hour to review what was said in this one, so I'm not missing anything.

Anyway, look at the time. You guys have been a great crowd, so I'm gonna to leave you with one more.

Murray and Sarah are going to the zoo. They're walking around looking at the animals, and they come to the monkey cage. A monkey comes up to them, and he's making all kinds of faces and gestures. Sarah says, "He's cute. Give him a peanut." Murray says, "No, they're expensive." Sarah says, "Give him a peanut!" So Murray reaches in the bag and tosses him a peanut. The monkey looks at it, sticks it up his ass, takes it out, then eats it. Sarah says, "I have never seen anything like that! What is wrong with this monkey? Give him another peanut, he's not gonna do that again." So Murray throws another peanut in and the monkey does the exact same thing. Sarah says, "You know, there's something wrong with this monkey. I'm gonna go to the zookeeper." So she goes to the zookeeper and tells him all about it. He listens, then he says to her, "Listen ma'am, it's really not a problem. About two weeks ago, that monkey accidentally swallowed a peach pit. Ever since then, he checks everything for size."

Goodnight everybody! Tip your waitress.

P.S. Actually wanted to end this post on a raunchier joke, but the wife reminded me this is a family blog. When you see me, ask me to tell it to you.

A great Dame

Years ago, there was a Shubert Theater in Century City where the CAA mothership is now. The wife and I had been early season subscribers, and as a result for years enjoyed two fourth-row center seats to every production and concert that appeared there. And because we had such great seats, that we were never going to let go, we saw them all.

During the 2001 Shubert season, which included Mama Mia!, we also had tickets to another show: Dame Edna, the Royal Tour. At the time I had no idea who she was, but our seats were great and we were going.

Here are the things I remember. She brought two people out of the audience who hadn't had dinner, and had them sit at a table onstage. Then she brought out a phone and called Harry's Bar, which was downstairs from the theater, and ordered them dinner. When the dinner arrived, she served it to them, and they watched the rest of the show while eating dinner at their table on the side of the stage. Every once in awhile, she would ask them questions or talk to them.

It was a very interactive show, with Dame Edna talking to several people, including us, who were sitting up front. She asked one couple about their children, who weren't there, and who was taking care of them. Then she called their babysitter, and started quizzing her on how she was handling the children.

I realize I'm not even close to doing her justice describing what her show is like, but it's difficult to explain exactly what she does. Part satire, part improv, part slapstick, part social commentary, the only way to experience Dame Edna is to be one of her "possums," her affectionate name for her audience. This clip will give you a better idea than I can:

The character of Dame Edna is the creation of the brilliant Australian comedian Barry Humphries. He's almost 81 years old now, so this Farewell Tour may actually be just that. All the more reason if you can get a ticket, do it.

The other thing I distinctly remember is I have never laughed so hard in my life. I was crying, and my sides were literally aching. I instantly became a Dame Edna fan, and promised myself I'd see her every time she came to L.A. It's a promise I've made good on.

So a week from Friday, the wife and I are taking the kids to the Ahmanson, and we're going to see her Farewell Tour. I can't wait. I know it'll be a great evening start to finish, when she tosses her beloved gladiolas out to her possums.

And of course, I'm hoping the "farewell" part is the biggest joke of the evening.

Goodbye Taylor

I come down hard on advertising in a lot of these posts, and for the most part advertising deserves it. But without a doubt one of the best things about being in this business is the people you get to work with.

To my great joy and surprise, I got to work with Taylor Negron early on.

I'd known who Taylor was for a long time. I had a lot of friends who were stand ups, and I spent a lot of years hanging out at the Improv on Melrose and the legendary Comedy Store on Sunset Blvd. My good friend Ned was even the MC at the store for awhile.

I'd seen Taylor perform many, many times. He was offbeat, unique and had a timing and sensibility all his own. It was his uniqueness that made him so compelling. Even though he may not have been well known in the mainstream, he was a comedian that other comedians admired.

Years ago, I wanted Taylor for a Church's Fried Chicken commercial I did, and was shocked when he came in and read for it. Which of course he didn't have to - the part was his, and I was prepared to fall on my sword with the client, the director, my creative director, the account people or anyone who said it wasn't.

Fortunately, everyone saw his remarkable talent and what he brought to the table. It was hard not to.

I'd like to say we became great pals after that, but we didn't. I did however continue to follow him, and was always excited when he came onscreen in the various movie roles he had like Fast Times At Ridgemont High and The Last Boy Scout, where he was a wicked blond-haired villain long before Javier Bardem ever thought about bleaching his hair for the Bond film.

In one of those ooo-weeee-oooo moments, I was thinking about Taylor just the other day, wondering why I hadn't seen him in anything in awhile. I didn't know he was fighting cancer, apparently for some time. And I'm heartbroken he lost the fight.

Anyway, thank you Taylor for your talent, for making me laugh, and for making my work far better than it would've been without you. I feel blessed to have been one of the lucky ones.

Rest in peace.

Here come da judge

I don't expect nor would I want everyone to agree with me on everything. But it does strike me odd when people disagree with me over nothing.

Here's the thing about social media: You have to be willing to suffer the slings and arrows of people who don't like what you're saying, posting or advocating.

Everyone has an opinion. And we know what opinions are like.

Nevertheless, I understand having a forum where everyone sees what you post is the price of admission for being able to post it. I get it.

I've never been thin skinned. After all, I'm in advertising. I have a superhuman tolerance for rejection of things I think are funny.

Plus I'm all over the interwebs with my little musings, things that strike me funny just because they do. Once in awhile they mean something more than face value. But most of the time they don't.

Yet for some reason, some people who should know better (was that a judgement? Sorry, you know how I hate that) make the decision to run their blood pressure up forty points, start calling me names and get all medieval on my ass for posting meaningless things.

Meaningless to me anyway.

The thing about it is, there's no hidden agenda to postings that just strike my funny bone. No political statement being made. Not even a lot to get angry about (another judgement, sorry about that).

But like ghosts, UFOs and truth on FOX News, sometimes people see things that aren't there. They start frothing at the mouth, hurling judgments about me, my work, my humor or my political leanings (BTW, I'm for whichever party likes bacon) based on something I just thought was funny.

They attach meaning where there is none.

Whatever. If you believe you're the arbiter of my taste, capabilities and standards, and if you see some deeper message in the crystals and think you're fighting the good fight by judging my talent, intellect, sensibilities and unloading on me with lots of exclamation points, have at it.

Or even better, be a little discerning, realize it's not worth the effort, say "There he goes again" to yourself, roll your eyes and move on.

It's not that I don't stand by what I post. I do. I stand by it and laugh.

Retiring the bit

When it comes to comedy, there's been no shortage of male/female teams.

Nicols and May. Stiller and Meara. Lucy and Desi. Sid and Imogene. Burns and Allen.

Each of them has a famous bit, a signature routine that always kills when they perform it.

My wife and I know the feeling.

We happen to have a few comedy stylings of our own. And while our teaming isn't nearly as famous as some of those others, hilarity still ensues when the occasion calls for it, and we decide to bring the funny. It's safe to say our most popular bit by far is "The Wedding Guests."

If you haven't caught our act at any nuptials lately, here's how it plays. When the requisite wedding videographer finally wanders over to us to record a comment for posterity about the bride and groom, or the DJ starts passing around the mic for a toast, we launch into it.

The premise is that we stumbled into the wedding by accident, get the bride and groom's name wrong, and then the wife corrects me.

Let's for arguments sake say the couple's real names are Bob and Susan. It would go a little something like this:

ME: We actually don't know anyone here. We were driving down (name of street the wedding venue is on) looking for the Boot Barn, when we heard this music coming out of here. So we came in, and it was great cause there was all this free food. But, as long as we're here, we'd like to give our best wishes and congratulations to Steven and Christina...

(The wife taps me on the shoulder, pulls me aside and whispers something in my ear)

ME:...I mean Bob and Susan, for a long, loving happy marriage.

And end scene.

It always gets a laugh from the crowd. And the fact that they've probably had a few champagne toasts before they get to us doesn't hurt. But still, funny is funny.

Well, it is right up until the couple thinks you've actually forgotten their real names. Then, not so funny. I have a sneaking suspicion that's what may have happened at our latest performance.

It's never happened before, and actually it never occurred to us that it could. But the last thing we'd ever want to do is add additional stress to what should otherwise be the best day of their lives.

We apologized right after in case they thought we really got it wrong. But let me apologize again. Here. Worldwide. (I don't know if the comedy will translate to the many countries who read this blog, but humor is the universal language. Right after money, prestige and oil).

Anyway, to avoid any future misunderstandings, the wife and I have made the decision to retire the bit. From now on, when we go to weddings and are asked to say a little something for or about the bride and groom, that's just what we'll do. And we'll use their correct names the first time out to make sure they know that we know exactly who they are.

Besides, if I'm going for laughs, I can always do the scene from The Graduate at the ceremony.

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.