The Fredo of cars

Remember the scene in The Godfather where Fredo tells Michael, "I'm not dumb. I'm smart, and I want respect." That should be the tagline for SMART cars.

It doesn't take a government study to know that the SMART car is maybe one of the stupidest ideas ever. Of course, the only thing more stupid than the cars are the people who buy them. Yeah, I said it.

If you're really willing to put your life on the line by driving a Hot Wheels car to get 5 or 10 more miles to the gallon, you're really not getting enough oxygen.

Why not just take your recliner out for a spin next time you have to go on the freeway? At least you won't have to pay extra for the leather and you'll have about the same amount of protection.

Don't get me wrong. I do appreciate SMART cars as comic relief. I like pulling up real close to them in my Land Cruiser at red lights and see the beads of nervous sweat start to roll down the drivers face. I'm not proud, but there it is.

Most SMART car owners are understandably defensive about their vehicles. They'll quote safety studies, talk about how good the cars are for the environment. I suppose if they mean that in the sense of reducing the population then they're right.

Hey, you know who's happy about these little painted golf carts? Cows.

The pressure's off them now. SMART car tipping is a lot more fun. You don't need as many people to do it, and they're a lot easier to find.

Remember that other scene in The Godfather, the one where Michael is talking to his brother-in-law Carlo. Things don't go well for Carlo. Michael says to him, "Don't lie to me. Because it insults my intelligence, and it makes me very angry."

That's pretty much how I feel about SMART cars.

Taking the high road

Here's something I don't tell a lot of people: occasionally - very occasionally - I watch the Weather Channel.

Fine. Use it against me. But I know more about tornadoes and typhoons than you ever will. And I'm sure that and the algebra I had to take four times will eventually come in very handy.

When I'm watching and see all the hurricane footage they show, I always think the same thing: I'll take our earthquakes over their hurricanes any day (although I'd like that day to be a Monday, because why ruin a perfectly good weekend).

With a hurricane, everything it touches is blown to smithereens. Houses become splinters. Cars become airborne as if they were the same size and weight as Hot Wheels. Everyone's life resets to zero and they have to start over.

I'm born and raised in L.A. I've been through a lot of earthquakes. And as a rule, about 98% of everything is still standing afterwards. Cosmetic damage, sure. But this is L.A. We have lots of people who know how to take something that's fallen apart on the outside and make it look better.

When it comes to earthquakes, the news is a cruel tease. Whether it's L.A. or Japan, the coverage would make you believe that entire cities or countries have been destroyed. Simply not true.

All of this brings me to Hermosa Beach.

I was down there walking around with my son last Tuesday, and we saw the sign you see above. Truthfully, tsunamis, or tidal waves, had never really been on my radar (that would be my Doppler radar). Unless the Weather Channel was doing a special on them. This sign immediately brought back images of the footage from Thailand in '04, and the tsunami in Japan after the most recent earthquake.

And as I looked at the sign, I just had one thought. Say goodbye to Hermosa Beach.

If you look just to the right of the sign, that's where the ocean is. Close isn't it?

And Hermosa is the quintessential sleepy beach town with all that implies: narrow streets, too little parking and too many cars, and a beachy little attitude that just screams, "Why the rush?"

They're goners.

So, as I sit in my house three miles inland on a small hill, I'd like to take a minute to say goodbye to Hermosa Beach, and let them know how sorry I am they spent good money on tsunami evacuation signs that aren't going to do jack when surf's up - way up.

I hope they at least made them waterproof.

Secret Heart

Here's the deal. It's Saturday, and time for a new post. But I got nothing.

So instead, I'll share this poignant, beautiful, haunting song by Ron Sexsmith - yes, that's his real name.

Here are two versions: him performing it acoustically, and Feist rocking it.

For today, two hearts are better than one.

The new apathy

Is it possible to care too much about your work? How would I know. That's never been my problem.

Sure, I'm paid and paid well to care enough to do the best possible job I can for my clients. And I do, because I'm just that professional.

So maybe the right word isn't care. Maybe it's "serious."

Here's the thing: on the big, long list of things in the world worth taking seriously, advertising just isn't one of them. In fact, advertising is on that other list - the one that includes hybrid cars, Justin Bieber and guys who wear their pants below their ass.

Everyday I work with people who could sell ice to eskimos. But the one thing they can't sell me on is taking the business I'm in too seriously.

Don't get me wrong: I'm a firm believer that there's a reason, purpose and tangible benefit to marketing communication. The impact it can have on defining a brand, engaging the consumer and shaping a business when it's done right - I'm looking at you Apple - is nothing less than remarkable.

The part I don't take seriously are the people who take themselves so seriously.

It's always amusing to go into a meeting and see how serious everyone is. They're straightening their notepads, setting their iPhones within arms reach (you know, for that very important call that could come. At. Any. Minute.), and sitting up attentively in the chairs they've adjusted to just the proper height. Wait a minute, is that image on the screen coming wirelessly from that iPad? Is that a Powerpoint presentation? Man this is getting serious.

The other thing I've found is that the main contribution from people who are too serious is riding the brakes and slowing the process. They bring up issues and detours that aren't salient to either that process or the outcome.

And I believe all that seriousness belies a lack of trust, often in themselves.

For all the efforts they make to stay steeped in pop culture and the trends of the moment, apparently one thing they don't do is read the papers (alright, some of them read the paper on their iPad during those meetings, but still...).

There are bigger things happening in the real world that actually matter and impact lives. It's true all those ads that butt their big, fat noses into your tv watching, radio listening, online surfing, magazine reading and automobile driving also impact lives. But it's also true most of them don't do it the way those very serious faces in the conference room want them to.

Some of the funniest, most brilliant, most creative people I've ever met work in advertising. So do some of the tightest butt-clenchers and people with sticks where they shouldn't be. Maybe they could lose the sticks if they didn't clench so hard. Just a thought.

I understand everyone's doing their job the best way they know how. I just think they could do it a lot better if they didn't take themselves so seriously.

Besides, just because you take yourself seriously doesn't mean anyone else does.

It also doesn't mean you're good at your job.

In what I thought had to be a joke but wasn't, a colleague of mine actually had a Facebook post saying he loved advertising so much it made him cry. Well, it makes me cry too. Just not for the same reason.

Anyway, I hope you can forgive my little rant here. I just had to get it off my chest. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't care.

I know I don't.

The change was made uptown and the Big Man joined the band

One night my wife and I were sitting second row at a Springsteen concert at the L.A. Sports Arena. It wasn’t an unusual place to find us.

As Bruce and the E Street Band were playing, she leaned over and asked me who I’d want to be onstage. Naturally I said Bruce. Then I asked her the same question. She took a beat, looked up onstage at Clarence, then replied, “Mrs. Clemons.”

I cried tonight when I heard Clarence had died. Not only for the fact of his passing, but for the end of any hope he might recover from the massive stroke he had almost a week ago.

For anyone who saw the last tour, it was easy to see it was a painful time for the Big Man. After two hip replacements, two knee replacements, major spinal surgery, and the wear and tear of carrying his larger than life frame around for 69 years, the Clarence of old – the one who danced with Bruce, jumped down to the runner of the stage, acted in sketches when Bruce was hamming it up (which was often) – was already gone.

His movement was limited to standing up from his ornate, throne-like chair at the side of the stage that he spent most of the concert in, and playing those unimaginably soulful, powerful, moving and profound sax solos as if it were the first time.

He was almost as much a part of the show as Bruce.

It’s virtually impossible to imagine E Street without him. And I guess in the larger sense, he'll always be onstage with them whether he's there or not.

Lots of chatty local news anchors have been wondering if it's the end of E Street. I'm here to tell you it's not. I believe Bruce and the band will tour again, sooner rather than later.

Because in the same way Bruce chose Charlie Giordano as keyboardist after Danny Federici passed away from cancer, he'll eventually choose another outstanding sax player to share the stage with him.

It goes without saying that whoever that turns out to be has some big – really big – shoes to fill.

And while Bruce fans will never be able not to think of Clarence at Bruce's side, they’ll graciously welcome whoever it is because Bruce chose them.

They're good like that.

Together my inner circle of Bruce tramp friends - Kim, Al, Jessie, Chris - have seen hundreds of shows here and around the world. And at every one of them, we talk about how people who aren't there have no idea what they're missing.

I’m so very grateful for all the times I got to see Clarence perform. I’m grateful my children got to see him on E Street.

And I’m especially grateful that Bruce knows continuing to play the songs Clarence loved and lived to play, and to keep rocking it hard, is the best and most lasting tribute he can pay to his dear friend.

Tonight, heaven is blessed.

And Gabriel is thinking he's never heard a horn sound so sweet.

The Big Man is in the house.

Clarence Clemons 1942 - 2011

I'll have a post of my own about Clarence as soon I can regain my composure and collect my thoughts. In the meantime, the post from Bruce:

It is with overwhelming sadness that we inform our friends and fans that at 7:00 tonight, Saturday, June 18, our beloved friend and bandmate, Clarence Clemons passed away. The cause was complications from his stroke of last Sunday, June 12th.

Clarence lived a wonderful life. He carried within him a love of people that made them love him. He created a wondrous and extended family. He loved the saxophone, loved our fans and gave everything he had every night he stepped on stage. His loss is immeasurable and we are honored and thankful to have known him and had the opportunity to stand beside him for nearly forty years. He was my great friend, my partner, and with Clarence at my side, my band and I were able to tell a story far deeper than those simply contained in our music. His life, his memory, and his love will live on in that story and in our band.

Hollywood's other Clint

You’ve heard the saying - you can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your family. All you need to do is take a good look at your family, especially after Thanksgiving dinner, at Christmas time or the reading of the will to know it’s true.

But if I could choose my family, I’d choose Ron Howard to be my older brother. Look how well it’s worked out for Clint.

In case you’re not familiar with Clint Howard, he’s the freakishly ugly, bald brother of Ron Howard who looks nothing like him, and appears in virtually every one of his movies.

But he wasn’t always that hideously ugly.

He started his career on a tv show called Gentle Ben, about a boy and a bear. He played the boy. He was a cute kid back then, but time and God both have a sense of humor, and what he grew up to look like wasn’t exactly leading man material.

Ironically, in a business consumed with looks, his haven’t been a handicap. Neither has having Ron Howard as his brother.

He’s become kind of a cult Where’s Waldo/Spot His Brother figure in Ron’s films. When his face appears onscreen (and by the way, seeing it in 70mm does nothing to improve it), there’s always laughter and a smattering of applause.

Here’s a list of the movies Ron Howard has directed. The bolded ones are the ones Clint has appeared in:

2013
The Dark Tower (announced)

2012
The Dark Tower (TV series) (pre-production)

2011
The Dilemma

2010
Presidential Reunion (video short)

2010
Heidi Montag Says No to Plastic (video short)

2009
Angels & Demons

2008
Frost/Nixon

2006
The Da Vinci Code

2005
Cinderella Man

2003/I
The Missing

2001
A Beautiful Mind

2000
How the Grinch Stole Christmas

1999
Edtv

1996
Ransom

1995
Apollo 13

1994
The Paper

1992
Far and Away

1991
Backdraft

1989
Parenthood

1988
Willow

1987
Take Five (TV movie)

1986
Gung Ho

1985
Cocoon

1984
Splash

1983
Little Shots (TV movie)

1982
Night Shift

1981
Through the Magic Pyramid (TV movie)

1980
Skyward (TV movie)

1978
Cotton Candy (TV movie)

1977
Grand Theft Auto

1969
Cards, Cads, Guns, Gore and Death (short)

1969
Deed of Daring-Do

1969
Old Paint (short)

Years ago I had a close encounter with Ron Howard when he was first starting out. He was directing a film called Grand Theft Auto for Roger Corman, and through some connection I don’t even remember, I got a job as a production assistant on the film.

My big break lasted two days until I came down with a horrible case of the flu and had to bow out. Come to find out I was extremely easy to replace on a moments notice – a lesson I’ve learned many times since.

Anyway, more power to old Clint. He's carved out a career for himself, he's a cult figure and he loves his big brother. How many show biz siblings - not counting the Bridges, the Afflecks, the Baldwins or the Coens - can you say that about?

Besides, as Damon Wayans says, “This town is built on nepotism.”

He should know. He has five brothers to prove it.