And we're back

It’s the age old question: if a blogger puts up a post in the forest, does it make a difference? Okay, so maybe that’s not exactly how it goes but you get my continental drift.

There’s no easy way to say it, so I’ll just own it. When it comes to timely RNB postings, for the past year I’ve been what I would euphemistically call slacking. You might call that old news.

Whichever, the truth is that the divisive mood of the country, lack of anything meaningful to say (like that’s ever stopped me before) and much better bloggers than myself—I’m looking at you Round Seventeen, Kingdom of Failure and AdAged—have all conspired to put me in a “yeah, I’ll get around to it when I get around to it” frame of mind for some time now. In fact the last new post I put up here was on 9/12 talking about 9/11.

But it’s time to change my evil lazy ways. It’s a new year, and with it comes a new attitude.

All of us here at Rotation and Balance International Headquarters have renewed our commitment, yet again, to being much more prolific this year. Which given the underwhelming 2023 output shouldn’t be too hard.

Now, you might ask yourself what's brought on this renewed energy for filling up blank pages with my musings and ramblings. Well here it is.

I saw someone online refer to Cadet Bonespurs as IQ45. I’m not missing any chances to use that one.

Encore post v2: The right attitude

Happy Thanksgiving. Let's take this day to reflect on our blessings, hold those here and gone in our hearts, be thankful for all we have, and plot how we're going to slice a bigger piece of pumpkin pie without anyone noticing. Pro tip: turn on the TV and ask if anyone wants to watch the parade. That usually gives you a few minutes alone with the pie.

You're welcome. Happy Thanksgiving.

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 necessary jobs or the essential people that work hard in them. 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 dog is healthy and loves 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. 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.

Encore post: Radio radio

Yesterday I was talking about radio with my pal Rich Siegel, author, owner and grand poobah of Round Seventeen. In one of my many business schemes, I asked Rich why don’t we start a radio production company. We’re both good writers with lots of radio production experience. It seemed like a win-win to me.

Rich replied, “Who pays for radio anymore?”

Thanks pal. Here’s my balloon –pop it.

Of course, he’s right.

For starters, there’s not a lot of radio being done, and what little there is certainly doesn't have any money – real money – thrown against it. Agencies usually just hand it off to the juniors, or the interns because they pay them even less than the juniors.

In most agencies, radio is considered the bastard stepchild to, well, to just about every other media. Maybe it’s because good radio is so hard to do, but many writers suddenly seem to get swamped when a radio assignment is up for grabs.

I’ve never looked at it that way.

The fact is, for the most part, the agency leaves you alone when you write radio. It’s not that high on the glam-o-meter, so you can usually fly under the radar and write some pretty fun stuff. But let me go back to an earlier point: good radio is hard to do.

There are of course basic rules to writing good radio. But if you've listened to any radio commercials lately, I'm sure you'll agree there need to be more.

Here are a few I’d add:

First, no more spots where the listener is eavesdropping on the recording session, and then the talent realizes they’re recording.

Next, no fake stand-up comedians with bad fake material and fake canned laughs.

Then, no more spots where the talent is talking about a sale with another talent, and suddenly there’s a door slam sound effect and the first talent says something to the effect of, “I guess everybody’s going to the (CLIENT NAME HERE) sale!”

Even though many writers use them, filler lines have got to go. You know the ones I mean. Lines like “so what’re you waiting for?” or “Hurry in now, the only thing that’ll be gone faster than these (PRODUCT NAME) is this sale.“

Lastly, the direction “more energy, have fun with it” must be banned from all recording sessions. No real person is that happy about having to take erectile dysfunction pills or diarrhea medicines.

This isn't the first time Rich and I have talked about starting a business. Just a few days ago, he suggested we start a deli.

I thought it was a good idea. Obviously, since we work in agencies, we already have enough baloney to stock it.

Conspiracy theory

It happens every anniversary of 9/11, and this one is no exception.

Every year, these idiots in their tin foil hats take a break from their vaccine conspiracies - microchips tracking you, vaccines don't work, they make you magnetic (they might be confusing that with my magnetic personality), they cause autism, they alter your DNA - to resurface and decide to scream the same ludicrous 9/11 conspiracy questions that have been answered and proven false for the last twenty-two years.

Now don’t get me wrong: I’m all in favor of questioning authority and government watchdogs. But conspiracy theorists, like their Republican and MAGA soulmates, all work under the same motto: don’t confuse me with the facts.

There’s a video online, sadly one of many, of a woman who has a conspiracy theory page on Instagram. I’m not going to name her, and I’m certainly not going to give out the name of her site. The reason I know about it at all is because a friend, who until now I considered fairly intelligent, reasonable and whatever the opposite of paranoid is, posted it today on their IG.

It is totally ridiculous, not to mention disrespectful and hurtful to the many who lost loved ones that day. But again, conspiracy theorists, like their Republican and the MAGA brethren, don’t really give a shit who they hurt.

I’m not going to answer all the questions this moron asks in her video, but I’ll tackle a few.

How does jet fuel burn steel beams?
The answer is it doesn't burn them, it compromises their integrity, something you'd think these asshats would be familiar with. From an article in the October 2001 Scientific American written by structural engineers from M.I.T. - not the YouTube University this conspiracy theorist went to::

” The main culprits in bringing the famously lofty buildings down, they concluded, were the two intensely hot infernos that erupted when tens of thousands of gallons of aviation fuel spilled from the doomed airliners. Once high temperatures weakened the towers' supporting steel structures, it was only a matter of time until the mass of the stories above initiated a rapid-sequence "pancaking" phenomena in which floor after floor was instantly crushed and then sent into near free fall to the ground below. Significantly, the panel stated that any mitigating reinforcements and redundancies added to these buildings could have only delayed the inevitable failure, though they would have bought more time for the evacuation of the occupants. “

How did two planes make three buildings fall?
Actually, two planes made two buildings fall. The fire from the falling debri set fire to the third building and brought it down by compromising the steel beams (see above answer). From the September 23, 2022 issue of USA Today: Official investigations show there is no truth to the claim the Building 7 collapse was pre-planned. World Trade Center Building 7 collapsed at 5:20 p.m. on Sept. 11, 2001, after burning for seven hours, according to a Federal Emergency Management Agency report. It said the collapse of the building was a direct result of fires stimulated by debris from the collapse of World Trade Center Tower 1. The National Institute of Standards and Technology also says on its website that “heat from the uncontrolled fires caused steel floor beams and girders to thermally expand," causing a key structural column to fail and initiating the collapse of the entire building. The site also says investigators "found no evidence supporting the existence of a blast event."

How many people actually saw the airplanes hit the buildings?
In a litany of monumentally stupid questions, this may be the winner. No one has an exact head count, but literally thousands of people in Manhattan and millions watching around the world saw the planes hit. There are eyewitness videos of it all over the internet.

There are also a plethora ($5 word - thanks Rich Siegel) of false claims regarding United 93 that crashed in Pennsylvania. Most all of those are debunked here. And the perennial claim that no airplane debri was found at the Pentagon is answered here.

The truth is the facts that prove the reality are all readily available and easily accessible. Of course, none of this will matter to the tin foil hat crowd. They will take refuge, as they always do, in lame defenses like "that's what they want you to think." or "They made it look that way." or "Follow the money." even if there's no actual money to follow.

Do I think that evidence-based events require further investigation? Of course. JFK's assassination and Jeffrey Epstein's "suicide" have a set of factual circumstances surrounding them that go beyond coincidence and need further examination. But really, let's stop the insane conspiracies - JFK Jr. is alive, the election was rigged, the moon landing, Paul McCartney's death - and put our energies on solving our real problems.

Want to hear my theory? All these conspiracy theorists want to sound smart, like they've uncovered some big secret the rest of us don't know about and are too ignorant to see. And if they haven't, which they haven't, they just make it up. And then they sound like sad, babbling idiots without an ounce of ability for reason or critical thinking.

Oh wait, that's not a theory. Turns out that's a fact.

Yes chef

I haven’t jumped on The Bear bandwagon. Truth is I’m driving it. And the reason is simple: this isn’t bragging, but merely a statement of fact: I saw it first.

I’d read about it in one of my many showbiz magazines (yes I still get magazines-they make excellent reading in the “library”), and thought it looked interesting. Another plus was it also looked like a fine opportunity to bank some marriage points what with it being a show about a restaurant and cooking. I figured the wife would enjoy it, since she's a trained chef herself and has had the rare honor of cooking at the James Beard House.

Yeah, we eat well around here. Have you seen my 32-inch waist? It was here just a minute ago.

Anyway, The Bear - streaming on Hulu - is the story of a world-class chef, Carmen, Carmy for short, played by Jeremy Allen White. He inherits a Chicago sandwich shop after his brother Michael commits suicide, and comes back to run it, eventually turning it into a fine dining restaurant.

The place is filled with brilliant actors each playing a character that is compelling, flawed, funny, heartbreaking, joyous and relatable as it gets.

His “cousin” Ritchie (Ebon Moss-Bachrach). His partner Sydney (Ayo Edebiri). Pastry chef Marcus (Lionel Boyce). Tina (Liza Colón-Zayas), who’s been working there forever. Fak (Matty Matheson, actually a chef in real life), who plays the handyman/fixit guy. Gary (Corey Hendrix) and Ebraheim (Edwin Lee Gibson). There’s also Carmy’s sister Natalie (nicknamed Sugar) played by Abby Elliott, Chris Elliott’s daughter and Bob Elliott’s granddaughter. Comedy pedigree much?

And last but most definitely not least, Uncle Jimmy, played by one of my all time favorites Oliver Platt, who as I’m certain you recall, I wrote about here eight years ago.

From the first frame of the first episode of the first season, The Bear was magnificent. It immediately catapults you right into the insanity of a restaurant kitchen. But for as great as the first season was, the current second season is even better. In it we get the backstories to all the characters, taking them out of the kitchen and bringing us into their real lives. The more we learn, the more we come to love them.

Not going to give anything away, but I challenge you to find better written, acted, directed and moving television anywhere than guest star-packed episodes six (as intense as it gets) and seven (absolutely heartbreaking, ultimately joyous) of season two.

The show and cast are deservedly nominated for a slew of Emmy’s. I hope they take them all.

Enjoy it over and over-surprise!- like I do.

And make sure you’re not interrupted when you’re watching. After all, every second counts.

Encore post: Not a keeper

I swear to God I'm like a broken record. It's been almost a month since I clicked and clacked (that was for you Rich Siegel) my last post, so I decided it was probably time to get going on a new one.

The title of it was going to be Promises Made, Promises Broken. It was going to have a funny intro about how with that title it could be mistaken for an essay about the Republican party - but then of course, there's nothing funny about them.

I got about halfway done with it, when I realize I'd already written this post five years ago about exactly the same subject. Lucky for me, amIrite?

So in a way, I'm keeping one of my promises about posting more often and not keeping my promise at the same time.

Or what I like to call a win-win.

Anyway, not that I've given you any reason to believe me, but I promise more original posts are on the way. Sure my fingers are crossed, but you can just ignore that.

Okay, it's time to read. Please to enjoy.

The first post is about the last year. Ironic ain't it?

So here's the thing. When it comes to the promises I made on our last trip around the sun, I'm a lot like the road to hell—I'm paved with good intentions. Alright, so maybe analogies aren't my metier (look it up), but you see where I'm going.

I made a lot of promises in 2017, some spur of the moment without much thought—you know, the same way I approach my career path (rolling eyes at the word "career")—some to you and even more to myself that despite the best intentions, well, we've already covered that.

For example, this one that would've made your Christmas shopping infinitely easier when it came to stocking stuffers. Or this one, where I vowed to be more disciplined and prolific with my blog postings (stops to laugh hysterically at the thought of being disciplined). But not as prolific as Round Seventeen because, frankly, my Crank-O-Meter doesn't go to eleven. And I'd rather read his posts than write my own.

Besides making gift buying easier and giving you more posts to avoid reading, I also made several promises to myself which I've broken like a fine china vase on a sitcom.

"Whatever you do Joey, don't touch the vase!"

"What, do you think I'm stupid? Of course I'm not gonna touch the vase."

SFX: Vase crashing to pieces on the floor.

Laughter and applause. Freeze frame. Roll credits.

Some are the same promises I've made before like losing weight, changing my style (which would involve actually having one), opening the folder marked Jeff's ideas and following through on some of them, any of them, one of them (yes Cameron Y., that includes the one marked "Screenplay ideas").

Those are the actionable, external promises. There are also the internal efforts that met with mixed success.

Cutting people some slack and realizing everyone's not going to do it my way or on my timetable, although for the love of God I still have no idea why not (only child, does it show?).

Following Elvis Costello's advice about trying to be more amused than disgusted at what's going on around me.

Sticking to the golden rule, no matter how hard someone is making it to do.

Not taking any of it personally, although I have to say I'm actually pretty good at that one.

Got a little heavy on you there didn't I? (Insert diet joke here). Yeah I know, I didn't see it coming either.

Anyway, all of this to say my promise to me and you for 2018 is to do better at keeping promises I make, and not make ones I can't keep.

This year, it's like Jules said in Pulp Fiction: "I'm trying Ringo. I'm trying real hard..."

Toast

Some of my regular readers (pauses to laugh at the idea I have "regular readers") may know my beautiful daughter got married to her longtime boyfriend this past weekend. Needless to say, I got unexpectedly choked up. It was a complete waterworks show—a tear-filled event.

And that was just writing the check for the venue.

Ponying up for the day is just one of the traditions the Father of the Bride is required to abide by before and during the big day. The wedding toast is another one.

There are basically five steps to every FOB toast.

The welcome. Thank everyone for taking the time and making the effort to come. You know how you feel about traveling to a wedding on a perfectly good Saturday. They feel the same way and they still made the trip. Thank them all. Even the ones you wish hadn’t.

A story about the bride. Here the FOB has to tread lightly. There are a lifetime of stories to choose from, and while you may find the truly memorable ones amusing there’s a fifty-fifty chance she’ll find them embarrassing. Memory is funny that way. Choose accordingly.

A story about the groom. You know when he entered the picture, how he treats your daughter and what he’s like. My now son-in-law is an awesome person and I couldn’t be happier my daughter chose him. You may not be as lucky. But, and being a husband you already know this, what you think doesn’t matter. It’s her day, and he’s the one she’s riding off into the sunset with. Toughen up cupcake. Make sure you have nothing but good things to say, even if you don’t.

Welcome the groom and his family to your family. Do I think even though birthdays, Christmas and Thanksgiving will get a lot more crowded you should be excited about your new extended family, and go in expecting nothing but the best? I do.

Words of wisdom. Your daughter and her betrothed are entering into an arrangement you’ve been in for years. Have you learned nothing in all that time? Unlikely. Find some words of wisdom to pass on to the happy couple. The good news is they don’t even have to be your words. Movie quotes are a good way to go. I'd stay away from "You're gonna need a bigger boat" and "Make him an offer he can't refuse." I went with one from Good Will Hunting. Not the one about apples, the one that says "The guy doesn't have to be perfect, and the girl doesn't have to be perfect. As long as they're perfect for each other." Sweet, amIrite?

If you’re looking for a little inspiration, and trust me, I’m the last person you should ever be looking to for that, but if you are then maybe this will help.

Here’s how I started my FOB toast.

”Thank you all for coming. You know, when I started thinking about this toast, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot, several words came to me right away. Beautiful. Strong. Independent. Funny. Talented. Courageous. But then I thought, this shouldn’t be about me, this is her day."

You’re welcome.