The pleasure that is Platt

There's an entire class of actors I feel are underrated. They're usually something more than character actors, yet somewhat less than lead actors.

It's in this sweet spot that Oliver Platt lives. He's been one of my favorites for years.

Whether it's White House lead counsel in The West Wing, Warren Beatty's nervous, cocaine-fueled campaign manager in Bulworth, acidic restaurant critic Ramsey Michel in last year's Chef or Cameron's gay bowling adversary on last night's Modern Family, Platt's characters are fully realized, unique and completely organic. He couldn't make a false move if he tried.

Full disclosure: years ago I started writing a television show for Platt before my complete lack of discipline did me in. Again. I'm working on it, okay? Back off.

Anyway, it was about two lawyers who were also brothers. One went to prestigious Harvard law school, and the other went to the Saul Goodman law school in Samoa. Through a series of events, they wind up in practice together, and the néer-do-well brother winds up teaching his Harvard grad broheim a thing or two about the real meaning of the law.

Along the way, hilarity ensues.

Like so many other projects of mine languishing in a drawer or on a disc somewhere, I never finished writing it. But each time I see Oliver Platt onscreen, my muse is rekindled and I start thinking about maybe easing into working on it again.

He deserves a great show of his own, and I'd like to be the one to create it for him.

Like Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Gene Hackman, John Cazale, Jon Polito, Michael McKean and a dozen more, Oliver Platt's presence in a project elevates it far beyond where it would've been without him.

Of course now that I've spilled the beans on the lawyer/brother idea, I'll have to come up with something else.

I'll do my best to make it worthy of him.

Shame the shamers

I saw this on the news last night.

There's this asshat riding around on his bicycle in some city in California. Every time he sees someone watering the lawn, or water runoff, or a leaking hose spout, he yells at them and takes pictures of the alleged offense. Then he posts them online.

He knows nothing about water conservation, the new state conservation laws, what government department to report them to or much of anything else. But that doesn't stop him from water shaming these people.

It's only a matter of time before someone has the good sense to turn a fire hose on him and knock him off his tricycle into the next zip code.

For some reason, the act of shaming people for things we don't like is the newest sport. People are shamed for how fat they are. The color of their skin. Their hair. Their religion. The number of people they've slept with. Their sexual orientation.

There are less damaging forms of shaming, like late shaming (always arriving late). Or selfie shaming (chastising people for taking and posting too many selfies - alright, that one may be legit).

Bullies shame people for being weak. Democrats shame people for being Republicans, which is ridiculous because any right-thinking (see what I did there?) Republican is already ashamed.

When did treating people like shit become acceptable? It doesn't come from any real desire to point out what you perceive as something that can help them improve. Shaming is strictly for making the shamer feel superior to the shamee.

Here's the thing: enough. Let's stop tearing people down, making them feel bad for who they are - and about some things they can't do anything about - just to make ourselves feel better.

Unless it's trying to shame your kids into cleaning their rooms. Then it's for a good and righteous cause. But it still doesn't work.

It's hard enough trying to carve out the life you want in a world that's so demanding, increasingly frightening and moving so fast. No one needs to be shamed by some stranger on a bicycle. Or worse yet, friends.

Even the word shaming has taken on the feeling of a fad that was so fifteen minutes ago. Try to be a better person. Show a little restraint and resist the douchebaggery of the moment. Rise above it.

If you can't do it because you're a decent person, then do it because idiot shaming is probably next. And if you haven't stopped by the time it gets here, you're on the list.

Sew I say

This one starts a little over eighteen years ago.

The wife was very pregnant with my son, and we were shopping for all the baby things everyone gets. The crib. The glider chair. The changing table. These are the things we agreed on.

What we didn't agree on was the fabric for the padded liner on the inside of the crib. While we were looking at bolts of fabric, I came across some Elvis patterned fabric I thought would be awesome. It wasn't the fabric in the picture, but that doesn't matter - it was Elvis.

Suffice it to say the wife didn't have quite the enthusiasm for the Elvis liner as I did. She leaned towards the light blue one, with clouds, cowboys and trains. But since she vetoed Elvis, I vetoed that one.

In the end we agreed on one with a deep blue background, yellow stars and moons, a black terrier and a black and white checked border. It was a great pattern: visually stimulating, colorful, calming.

But, you know, it wasn't Elvis.

That Elvis pattern has stuck with me these past eighteen years, and I still can see it in my head as I write about it. At the time, I thought as an alternative to the crib liner, I'd make Elvis pillows. This fabric had to get out in the world. The problem was I didn't have any idea how to sew.

That was then and this is now.

As we speak - or read - I'm currently enrolled in a beginning sewing class. Tonight, I pinned the pattern for the apron I'm making, which is the first class project. I also cut the fabric, marked the loops, and reinforced the pockets. It was slow, sometimes frustrating and painful work what with stabbing myself about a thousand times while I was pinning. I suppose it would've been a lot easier if I'd taken Home Ec in school.

Nonetheless it's a means to an end: the Elvis pillows I've been dreaming about for years are going to become a reality. Sure, they're already a reality if you Google "Elvis pillows" or go shopping for them on Etsy. But those aren't made from a dream that's been kept alive for years.

Oh sure, laugh now. But when you get your Elvis throw pillow for Christmas this year, not only will you love it, I know exactly what you're going to say.

Thank you very much.

Release the hounds

If you follow this blog with any regularity, and if you do you really need to develop some healthier reading habits, then you know this about me for certain: I loves me a high-speed chase.

And while one of the things I love is the inevitable surrender (usually) of the suspect, what I enjoy even more is watching a K-9 officer take down a suspect who's not cooperating.

I think we can paint with broad strokes here and say perpetrators who lead the police on these chases aren't nearly as smart as the trained German Shepherds who occasionally have to ply their trade.

Of course, as you know, I have a German Shepherd to call my own. I remember when I first got him, one of the asshat neighbors referred to him as a police dog. I didn't like it then, but I'd take it as a compliment now.

Although between you and me, Max hasn't read the German Shepherd manual. He'd never make it through the academy.

Anyway, last night there was a slow-speed chase through Orange County, and once out of the car, the suspect wasn't complying. You can tell from the middle right side of the picture above what happens next, but if you want to see for yourself, just click here.

You know the old saying, "His bark is worse than his bite."

Not this time.

On tour

It got here much faster than I expected. I mean, one minute I'm changing his diaper, trying to dodge his impression of Old Faithful, and the next minute I'm taking him on college tours.

As any parent who's made the tour circuit will tell you, college means one very important thing. Not that they'll get a quality education and a well-paying job in the profession of their choice. That's just crazy talk.

It means I'll be working a lot longer than I planned.

While junior is out partying Saturday nights, telling me he's studying for finals, and wondering whose kegger to hit next, I'll be long past my prime earning years, clearing dishes at Coco's on weeknights and scraping together my minimum wage earnings so he can have the education he so rightly deserves.

As we tour these institutions of higher education, it makes me realize perhaps my teachers' comment, the one I got year after year, might've had a tinge of truth to it.

"Jeff's a smart boy, but he needs to apply himself more."

Admittedly all this touring makes me want to go back to school. Maybe it's because I'm visiting campuses I never saw before. Or because I realize if I'd had a better education I wouldn't be writing banner ads and sitting through endless meetings about...well, I never actually figured out what they're about.

Still, I make considerably more a day than the average Harvard grad, so there's that.

But the biggest lesson he can learn is it's not all about the money. It's about loving what you do. And I love making money. BAM!

So anyway, applications are out, and a few results are in. He's in at some, out at others. And even though he has plenty of options and will no doubt have more soon, we still have some college sight-seeing left to do. I can't predict the next stop on the tour. It depends on a lot of things. Wherever it is, I know I'll be looking forward to it. I want my son to take it all in, to appreciate the grandeur of these institutions, and participate in the traditions that've made them great.

The scholarly ambiance. The manicured lawns. The stately libraries. The hallowed halls.

There'll be plenty of time later for toga parties, hazing and drug testing.

This is the film I've been looking for

In the eternal divide between Star Trek and Star Wars people, I've always been on the Star Trek side. Not that I didn't like or appreciate Star Wars, but Star Trek spoke to me in a way SW didn't.

With today's release of the new SWVII trailer, while my position may not have changed entirely, I think I'm now on both sides. There's no other way to say it: I geeked out completely when I saw the new trailer.

December can't get here fast enough.

There are some predictions the new SW will make $2 billion worldwide, which would make it the most successful film ever. To which I say, I could've told you that.

There's a quick cameo at the end of the trailer of one of the most popular characters from the original film. I'm man enough to admit it gave me a lump in my throat and brought tears to my eyes when I saw this person.

I was totally unprepared for how strong the force is with this one.

Know what else I feel? Grateful.

Killing time

The ebb and flow of work at an ad agency is a mystery. Like online metrics, or an account planner’s opinion, it's often unpredictable and unreliable.

Some days it's a hive of activity, with people taking stairs two at a time, foam core boards in hand, comps stuck to them with push pins flying everywhere, racing to solve some important marketing dilemna.

Other days, for reasons equally unknown, there isn’t much to do. And the day goes by slower than Interstellar.

Though if you saw Interstellar, you know nothing could possibly go any slower.

Creative people want to be creative in everything they do, including killing time. As you see from the blurry, lo-res picture above, Matt Groening had some suggestions on the best ways to do that.

I have a few more:

1) Facebook Facebook Facebook
In an era where a disproportionate emphasis is placed on social media (“I can’t wait to engage with my toothpaste online!”), you can literally spend hours brushing up your social skill set.

Sure, to the untrained eye it might look like you’re posting shots of the sunset and cute cat photos all day. But if anyone asks, you’re studying up on Facebook advertising and the algorithms that allow them to target ads to the last subject you viewed or wrote about.

TIP: Make sure no one’s watching when you post your third Most Interesting Man In The World meme.

2) Starbucks Coffee Break
While Groening has already covered coffee break in the cartoon, he’s talking about that brown sludge that barely passes for coffee in the agency kitchen. I’m talking about Starbucks.

All you have to say is, “I’m running over to Starbucks and grab some coffee. Anyone want anything?” Everyone will immediately nod their approval, tell you no thanks they're fine, and then you can leave the building.

Whether you actually head to Starbucks is up to you. When you come back empty-handed almost forty-five minutes to an hour later, you can always say you drank it there. Or the line was too long. Or they ran out of the raspberry pump.

TIP: Don't say there wasn’t a Starbucks nearby. No one will believe you.

3) Your baby-size bladder
Repeat after me: the bathroom is your friend. No one will blame you or even think twice if you make a bathroom run hourly. It can be a little iffy when it comes to how long you can actually spend in there, but there are always lots of things to blame it on.

Like last nights' chili. Warm sushi. Or that agency coffee I was talking about.

TIP: Don't actually have bad chili or get sushi poisoning. This isn't a method acting class.

I'm sure there are a plethora of other ways to kill time. After all, I'm talking about very creative people here. And dear readers, I'd love to hear suggestions from you as well as some of your own experiences in this pursuit.

Hold that thought. I have to run to the bathroom.