Happy landings

At the recent D23 expo, a convention for all things Disney, chairman, CEO and personal friend of Rich Siegel Bob Iger announced the Magic Kingdom was going to get even more magical thanks to a property their Imagineers had nothing to do with. And their accountants had everything to do with.

To the delight of thousands of squealing fanboys, Iger said plans are underway to build a Star Wars land at Disneyland. I think it's safe to say the force and the lines will be strong with this one.

So it got me to thinking (in case you were wondering what it would take), what if advertising agencies were divvied up into lands of their own. They're already divided into departments: Creative, Account, Media, Strategy and Pizza After 7.

But I think we could segment the shops even more. Specifically:

Clientland

This is a magical land where nothing is as it seems. Yes means no. Start means stop. Good means bad. In Clientland, the rides start but for some reason stop half-way through. And on the ones that do finish, the journey isn't quite as much fun as you expected it to be. Still, at least you got to ride. There are people waiting in line who'll never get on.

Researchland

If words like intuition, gut feeling and common sense send a cold shiver down your spine - and the word spine does as well - you'll feel right at home in Researchland. Those people walking around in the black robes? They're call Extractors, and their job is to remove all the funny lines you liked because a mother of two who had some time to kill and needed a free meal didn't think it was funny. Researchland has lots of dark, twisting tunnels that look like they lead somewhere, but actually don't. Problem is you don't find that out until you've been through them. There are also lots of funhouse mirrors, where you can see people who come in but they can't see you. All they can do is kill your idea before they finish the ride. Sometimes you can actually pass through Researchland and no one will tell you. But if you see your spot and don't even recognize it, you've been there.

Meetingland

In Meetingland, the ride feels like it's never going end. The cars are designed like little conference tables, and oddly enough the decorative plastic bagels in the center that you use to steer taste just as good as real meeting bagels. Everyone in your car talks at the same time. And no matter how long you ride, the one thing you can count on is you'll end up exactly where you started.

Weekendland

The least happy attraction in the park is Weekendland. People are grouchy and wishing they were somewhere else. All the concession stands serve is crappy pizza. And when you're inside the rides, all you can think about is how good the weather is outside. In Weekendland, there are warning signs on all the rides: This ride may cause depression, time lost with your spouse and your children, and excessive bad attitudes.

Of course, just like the Magic Kingdom, you'd be able to buy an annual pass to all of these agency lands that's good all year round.

But after your first visit, you'll wish they were all blackout days.

Silent night

I was thinking what I could write about tonight when the tragedy in Oregon occurred. And I find myself too numb to write about anything really.

I certainly don't feel like being funny tonight (I know, why is this night different from any other night...).

I've written here how I feel about guns as it pertains to personal safety and protection for the family.

And tonight the news will be filled with all the talking heads on both sides of the issue seeing who can scream the loudest.

But while the gun lobby and gun control advocates both plot their strategies and figure out how best to politicize this, the fact remains at least ten families won't have their loved ones coming home tonight. Many if not all were students. As a parent, it brings me to tears thinking of the pain the families must be going through.

There's always the quest to understand why the shooter did what he did. Reports have said he asked people to stand up and tell him what religion they were, and if they gave the wrong answer they were shot. Survivors say after he asked the question, he just started shooting people randomly, even those who hadn't answered his question.

On social sites, posts by the shooter said, "I'm so insignificant. This is the only way I'll ever get on television." A warning and a reason at the same time.

Some people have said police should've done more to bring him in alive so he could be questioned. But fortunately, their first priority was making sure no one else got shot.

The shooter was - in police parlance - neutralized.

I can't even imagine their pain. I don't even want to try. God bless the victims and their families now and forever. I hope they eventually find some peace and their hearts begin to heal.

As for the shooter, I'm only sorry he wasn't neutralized sooner.

Manifesto

Sung to the tune of the Eagles' Desperado:

Manifesto, why don’t you come to your senses

You’ve been full of pretenses for so long now

Oh you’re a hard one

I know that you got your reasons

These words that are pleasin’ you

Don’t matter no how

Fancy sentences don’t impress judges boy

You know they’re just a fable

They’re wanted by a client you ain’t met

Now it seems to me award shows

Like the ones you see on cable

Leave you filled with nothin’ but regret

Manifesto, oh, you ain’t getting shorter

Cause it’s the first quarter, the budget’s approved

And creative, oh creative, well that’s just some people talkin’

Your prison is balkin' when good words are removed

Write a spot you’re proud of this time

Don’t squander it you’re in your prime

It’s the only way to get an increase in pay

You’ll have your highs and lows

Ain’t it funny how this assignment blows, cliché

Manifesto, why don’t you come to your senses

They’ve paid your expenses, go write something great

It’s now or never, a book piece is just what you’re needin’

You better stop your concedin’

You better stop your concedin’

You better stop your concedin’

Before it’s too late

Calling in well

Anyone can call in sick. When you’re fighting muscle aches, nausea, diarrhea and a 101-degree fever it’s a no brainer.

Of course, we’ve all been around those people who drag their sorry selves in no matter what, looking like they just finished auditioning for Contagion II. For some inexplicable reason – perhaps an overdeveloped sense of importance, a crippling fear of being fired if they miss a day, or just to get even with everyone they work with who don’t give them the recognition they deserve, they feel it’s their civic duty to keep working until they drop.

But if you ask anyone who’s ever worked with me, after they stop denying it, they’ll tell you in no uncertain terms that’s never been my problem.

Sniffles? Home for three days. That’s the spirit.

I used to work with this guy at an agency who would occasionally call in well to work. He’d wake up in the morning feeling great, optimistic, ready to take on the world. On those days, he’d call the agency, get someone on the line and say, “I won’t be in today. I feel too damn good to come to work.”

I’m all in favor of the concept.

Some shops give you a couple mental days or personal days off a year. I suppose they think you should use those if you’re going to call in well. I think it’s a matter of expanding the definition of sick. As in, it would make me sick to go into work feeling this good.

Which brings me to another point (assuming I had one in the first place): maybe it’s time to reconsider the name “sick days.” If people are going to start calling in well – as they should – the days allotted should reflect that policy.

Maybe a combination of sick and well, a term that would define and describe the days for exactly what they are. Let’s call them Swell Days™.

Although technically, that could be any day you’re not in the office.

The feel good post of the season

Jerry Maguire put it best. "We live in a cynical world. A cynical world."

Don't get me wrong, between Wall Street, both political parties, big pharmaceutical companies, police training, Donald Trump and Kim Kardashian there's a lot to be cynical about.

But sometimes, for myself anyway, I find that intentionally or not, I'm a little too immersed in my own cynicism. I'll use it as a launchpad for some sarcastic line, usually a cheap - albeit very clever and original - shot. Sometimes I'm in it so deep, I forget there are reasons to suspend at least part of my cynicism every once in awhile.

There are still people living by the Golden Rule: treat others as you'd like to be treated. And every once in awhile, it's nice to have my faith in humanity restored.

I work in advertising: it doesn't happen nearly often enough.

Anyway, when I see videos like these, some which you may have seen, they make me feel something I haven't felt about humanity in awhile.

Hopeful.

The right attitude

I don't think there's anyone who knows me, as much as anyone can know anyone, who'd argue the fact that I've gotten complaining down to an art form. I'm not proud.

Anyway, I thought it'd be good for me and everyone within earshot if I tried developing a different skill. So I'm choosing gratitude.

It's dawned on me, more than once, that in the scheme of things - the big picture - I have it pretty damn good in almost every area of my life. Not as good as some, but I'd be willing to bet better than most. And it's not that I'm ungrateful - quite the opposite in fact. But what I do know is I could make a more frequent habit of practicing gratitude. Maybe turn it into an everyday thing, because everyday, there's something to be grateful for.

It could start every morning. My pal Cameron always says any day above ground is a good day. So waking up each morning seems like a good thing to be grateful for.

I don't work in insurance or the fast food industry. I don't work on an assembly line. Not that there's anything wrong with those jobs. But I'm grateful I have a job that lets me make up stuff and dress like a fifteen-year old everyday.

I could've wound up working with a bunch of stiffs, boring people who make the long days even more excruciating than they already are. Instead, (almost) no matter which agency I'm at, I'm grateful I get to work with some of the funniest, most creative people in any business.

My wife and kids are healthy and love me.

My two dogs are healthy and love me.

My neighbors are healthy.

I'm finding it's doing me good to have an attitude of gratitude, even for the little things.

Finding a parking space when I turn in the lot.

Not having to wait in the slow line at the market.

Walking up to the washer just as it finishes the cycle.

I'm grateful for my friends, who support, encourage and uplift me in all my endeavors and wild schemes. I mean my current friends. I cut the whiners and complainers loose long ago - no time for them. I'm grateful I did that as well.

So that's all I wanted to say. No snarky post, no quippy little end line tonight. I'll wrap it up by saying I'm grateful to everyone who reads this on a regular, semi-regular or occasional basis.

That's it. Now I'm done with this post.

See? I even gave you something to be grateful for.

Yum Kippur - 2015 edition

Why is this day different from any other day? Because today, I'm going to do something I don't usually do. No, not write a post worth reading. Instead I'm going to post a three-year old post about Yom Kippur. The holiest holiday on the Jewish calendar starts this evening, and yet my feelings about it haven't changed in the last three years. Hence the repeat posting. Like someone once said, "Why do they call it a fast if it goes so slow?" I got nothing. Anyway, enjoy this well-aged, classic holiday post. And when YK is over, eat bubbie, eat.

Quick, how many Jews does it take to blog about Yom Kippur? All of 'em.

Not that the internet needed another blogpost about it, what with this fine post at Round Seventeen, and this swell one at Ad-Aged. But I thought what the hell, I'm just sitting here: I may as well write one. After all, we're not supposed to eat today, but apparently typing is still on the table (see what I did there?).

As I've posted before, I'm not really much of a practicing Jew. I don't know if it's because of four long years of Hebrew school and being bar mitzvah'd, or in spite of it. But as a result, whether I want to be or not, I'm still hard-wired to recognize the holiest day on the Jewish calendar. And because Catholics, despite what they think, have never had the market on guilt cornered, I can't help feeling like I should be more of a participant in the customs and traditions of this day. But here's the thing: for me, actually observing it would be a bit hypocritical. Somewhat akin to all the Jews who, since they're not supposed to drive today, make a proud point of walking all the way to the synagogue.

From the parking lot.

Yom Kippur is the one day we're supposed to reflect on and atone for our sins of the past year. I'm not bragging, but I think we both know it's going to take more than one day.

Besides, there isn't a day that goes by that I'm not constantly thinking about my sins. Since we're supposed to be fasting on this holy day, each year Yom Kippur only serves to narrow down the sin I should be focusing on most.

Gluttony.