No no, thank you

One time I said to my great friend (more on that in a second) Janice MacLeod, "I'm a giver." To which she replied, "Giver? You hardly know her!"

This of course is one of the many reasons I love Janice.

I met Janice when we worked together at the advertising agency Y&R in Orange County. I remember us both complaining about the commute one day, and we came up with a solution. Every morning, she’d have her coffee, then make the slow, excruciating drive from her apartment in Santa Monica to my house in Long Beach. Then we'd hop in my car and fly in the carpool lane from my place to the agency.

And we'd talk about everything.

The problem was we always seemed to have way more things to talk about than time to talk about them. And while I don’t remember each and every subject we covered, I do recall there was a lot of laughing in the car. It was the best part of the work day for me. I’ll assume it was for her. What the hell, she’s not here to say otherwise.

What with all the talking, confiding, gossiping, joking, planning, singing, eye-rolling in meetings and saying the same thing at the same time, Janice quickly became my “office wife.”

It’s a tribute to Janice and the person she is that my real-life wife approved (which is also a tribute to my real-life wife).

There are so many things to admire about Janice it’s hard to know where to start, so I’ll start here – Not only did she think about leaving her job in advertising, a job that was making her profoundly unhappy, to pursue the life she wanted, she actually did it. That new life included traveling the world, unburdened by time or possessions, and leaving herself open to whatever experiences she chose to have along the way. She planned it, figured out how much money she’d need and saved for it.

Dare I say it’s a dream shared by, what’s the word I’m looking for…oh yeah, everyone.

I had dinner with Janice at Joe’s in Venice the night before she left for France. It was a great dinner, one of those “why don’t we do this more often” dinners. Here's one thing I remember from that meal: I don’t want to spill any state secrets, but let's just say her fall from a full vegan diet may have started a little before she fell in love with and married a butcher.

Another thing to admire is she wrote a book about the experience. Paris Letters is the third book Janice has written in the warm, humorous, observational, razor-sharp, inclusive style that is her voice.

She is what I like to call a real writer.

As opposed to myself, who’s still waiting to be found out by the word police.

The book journals her decision, her travels, meeting and falling in love with her now real-life husband Krzystzof, who is a butcher by trade and apparently has invested heavily in the consonant market.

In Paris Letters, there is a Thank You page, and the very first person Janice thanks is me. Shortly after that, she thanks Bruce Springsteen for writing Thunder Road.

Coincidence? I think not.

I haven’t read the entire book yet, but so far the Thank You page is my favorite part.

But if I’m going to be honest with myself – and if you know anything about me you know how rarely that happens – it is I who should be thanking her.

She was the one who encouraged me to start this blog when I told her I have nothing to write about (something that after 472 posts, many people would still agree with). She always says that venom is my best medium, but that’s mostly about the snarkier posts. She is equally supportive of the vast majority of them that are not written in that tone. She is living proof that there is nothing getting in the way of your dreams but yourself - always a good lesson to keep in mind. And she comments on my posts, which of course all bloggers love.

At that dinner the night before she left to travel the world, I told her that if it didn't work out to just say the word and I'd fly over and bring her back. That offer still stands.

Although I'm beyond happy for her knowing that with her new life, the life she's made for herself, the life she wanted, she won't be taking me up on it.

Apply words as needed

There's been a lot of discussion about the death of Phillip Seymour Hoffman, and not all of it as sympathetic as you might expect.

There are people inflamed at how selfish it was to shoot heroin when you have kids. It's a point of view I understand, but it's an awfully unforgiving one usually put forth by people who have no concept about the grip heroin can have on a life.

Until the beginning of last year, Hoffman had been clean and sober for over 20 years. When he fell off the wagon, he sought help by enrolling himself in rehab last May.

Sadly, as we all know, it didn't stick.

But beyond a brilliant body of work, he also left us these words, that can be applied to virtually any job.

It's a simple message: do the best you can at every opportunity you're given. You're not better than the work. And if you want to be noticed and remembered, then give them something to notice and remember.

Phillip Seymour Hoffman did that every time at bat.

Despite his sad and most certainly tragic death, he left us words to live by.

Who's doing the talking here

I've always had a morbid fascination with ventriloquists. What other kind of fascination could you have with them?

Years ago, I was freelancing for the Fox Family Channel. One of the programs I had to write about was a special called the World Of Magic that was filmed at the Hollywood Palladium. I went to the show, and saw a lot of poofy sleeves, tired doves and startled looking rabbits.

But towards the end, there was a magician that had a grotesque looking mask on his face. He removed it, and underneath was another mask. And another one. And another one. He was pulling them off one after the other at an insane speed. He must've had fifty masks on.

I turned to the girl sitting next to me and said, "I'm going to go out on a limb and say he had a pretty screwed up childhood." She said, "If you think that's messed up, you ought to see the vents." By vents she meant ventriloquists. Come to find out she was Erica Larsen, daughter of the founder of the Magic Castle. We talked for a bit, and she told me about all the vents that performed at the Castle.

I was hooked. I decided then and there I was going to make a documentary showing the bizarre world of ventriloquists.

I met Erica at the Castle for lunch and told her the idea. She liked it a lot, and said she'd be happy to connect me with some vents. I also wound up going to the International Ventriloquist Convention in Las Vegas, where I shot a lot of video and interviewed many of the participants.

One of the things I remember most is the woman who'd only talk or answer question through her dummy.

It's a little surprising I could even look at a ventriloquist dummy after a prank my roommate Ned pulled on me years ago.

Ned owned a Jerry Mahoney dummy he knew creeped me out. He also knew I got up in the night to go to the kitchen. So he put the dummy on the kitchen counter right next to the frig. That night, about two in the morning, I went to the frig. I believe there's still a hole in the ceiling from when I saw the dummy sitting there.

And of course, I still get a chill thinking about the Twilight Zone episode pictured above, where a ventriloquist dummy is alive, eventually changing places with his owner - Cliff Robertson.

Anyway, add my documentary on ventriloquists to the list - along with accordion lessons, several screenplays, helicopter flying lessons and marathon training - of things I've started and never finished.

But the idea haunts me, and I imagine eventually I'll come back to it. After all the time and thought I've given it over the years, I'd be a dummy not to.

Goodbye to one of the greats

This picture of Phillip Seymour Hoffman is what he looked like when I met him. On the right is my best friend and best man Scott Thomson. As you can probably guess, the photo is from the movie Twister.

Scott was in Ponca City, Oklahoma for months filming Twister, and it just so happened he was going to be there through one of his more significant birthdays. My wife and I decided we'd surprise him, so I called Bill Paxton (under his alias at the hotel) and together we arranged a surprise party for Scott.

Let me just say you haven't lived until you've partied on a Saturday night at the VFW in Ponca City. Helen Hunt and I were playing barrel of monkeys. Long story.

Anyway, Scott introduced my wife and me to many members of the cast, including Phillip. My memory of him is just this electric energy, this bigger than life character that also came across in the movie.

Obviously you didn't have to meet him to be a huge fan of his remarkable talent. From the music critic in Almost Famous, to the author in State And Main, the sad sound man in Boogie Nights, the disgruntled team manager in Moneyball, the heavy in Mission Impossible, his Oscar-winning performance in Capote and fifty-eight other films, to me he was like the Gene Hackman of his generation. It didn't matter if the film was good or bad, Hoffman was always a shining light, the extraordinary performance to look forward to that would elevate the work to an entirely different level.

I think the fact I got to meet him makes his death even sadder. He'd struggled with heroin addiction for years, even entering rehab last May.

I always used to wonder about stars of a certain era and stars of today. I used to say will we feel the same way about, for example, Bruce Willis passing as we did about Jimmy Stewart? Phillip Seymour Hoffman was one of today's golden era. He was the real deal.

At one point in Charlie Wilson's War, Hoffman's character says, "It was nothing."

Watching Phillip Seymour Hoffman on screen was something.

Rest in peace.

Typo happens

Has this ever happened to you? You work on a commercial for weeks, concepting it, selling to the client, getting the budget approved, shooting it and then finally seeing it on the air. Only to discover there's a typo in it.

Not talking about a little teeny typo buried in the legal copy. I'm talking about a big ass typo right out there for the world to see.

It happened to me years ago. I was working on the Coco's Restaurant account, and they wanted to promote a Prime Rib, Steak and Shrimp offer. Should've been easy enough.

Except when the spot got to air, the end title card read "Prime Rib, Steak and Shimp."

The interesting part is the spot ran for three weeks before some eagle-eyed viewer called to say there was a typo.

Afterwards, I did a little math and figured out that between myself and my partner, all the account people, all the clients, all the production and editorial people who had seen it before it was released for air, over 61 pairs of eyes had missed the typo.

The promotion was over before we had to do anything about it. To this day I don't know if the client even knew.

In today's marketing wars, I'm sure heads would roll if an obvious mistake like that somehow made it out the door.

But back in the day, we all had a good laff about it.

Snow job

This is not going to play well with many of my friends. But here goes: Edward Snowden is not a hero, despite how desperately he wants you to think he is.

It's easy to see how he might've been mistaken for one. After all, he single-handedly blew the lid off the government's PRISM program to spy on all our phone calls and internet communications.

Except that he didn't.

The not so clandestine anymore PRISM surveillance program has been operating since at least 2007 with the passage of the Protect America Act under George Bush. What Edward Snowden brought to light was the scope of the operation. But, contrary to his story, he didn't stumble onto it once he had the job at NSA. His motivation wasn't pure. His aim wasn't true.

Snowden at minimum is a vulgar opportunist. He intentionally set out to get his job and top-level clearance at the NSA specifically so he could steal - and steal is the correct word - the top-secret, classified information, which by the way is a federal offense. He also stole very specific information, most of it not dealing with our phone calls being monitored, but information that would be particularly useful to foreign governments. There was nothing random in his approach. It was a systematic search of the data. Opportunist may be the nicer name for him.

Not long ago I wrote a post that talked about the balancing act between the public's right to know and the governments need for secrecy in order to do the job we ask it to do. I'm really at a loss as to why it's so shocking to some that our government would do the things Snowden suggests. The only thing I can say is have you read the papers lately?

This is the world we live in. And it has been for a long time now.

If Snowden was in fact a patriotic whistleblower, he could've done many things differently. He could have collected the information then brought it to any members of Congress not on the Senate Foreign Relations Committee or Senate Intelligence Committee (both of which have known about the program, its capabilities and its targets since the beginning) for investigation. Instead what he chose to do was flee to first China then Russia, guaranteeing that they now have a treasure trove of information regarding our surveillance of their countries. Foreign surveillance that does not impact American liberties. Snowden has said that they have not seen any of the stolen data, but that simply doesn't stand up to reason. It's the only chip he has to play.

I don't know if that makes him a traitor. At the very least it makes him a coward.

Am I comfortable with the degree of latitude the NSA has? Of course not. It definitely needs to be investigated and changes need to be made in the program. But seriously, when the Norwegian government starts talking about nominating Snowden for a Nobel Prize, something is terribly wrong.

Only one person knows what Snowden's true motivations were. And despite everything he's saying, he's not talking.

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.

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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: