Encore post: Book Report

I've taken the easy way out this fine Monday morning (again). I was planninng on writing a new post about a musician I discovered over the weekend, but then the Google started giving me all sorts of Captcha issues with embedded videos in Blogger. The musician post will be here tomorrow.

In the meantime, you can happily fill up a few minutes with this encore post about my pal Rich's fine book. Now I'm not saying I expect a commission on any additional book sales as a result of this post. Then again I'm not saying I don't.

Monitization. It's all the rage. Anyway, please to enjoy.

I don't make a lot of money from this blog. And by a lot I mean none.

However being in advertising, it's occurred to me from time to time I probably could break open a few corporate wallets by selling ad space on here. After all, the very desirable demographics of my readership are the same as Disneyland's - 8 to 80. Plus it is the happiest blog on earth, so there's that.

Advertisers would have a direct line to the 11 people who read this blog on a regular basis. I know that may not sound like much, but it's 11 people they wouldn't have otherwise.

Before I go climbing up the corporate ladder asking for money, I probably should have proof of concept: an example of how well advertising might work on this site, and could work for them.

So as a trial run, I'm going to plug my pal Rich Siegel's book, Round Seventeen & 1/2: The Names Have Been Changed to Protect the Inefficient.

The title comes from his popular blog of the same name. In it, Rich covers a diverse variety of topics like advertising, sex, the situation in the middle East, why he sucked at being a creative director and poo. More than one post about poo.

Alright, maybe not exactly the same demographics as Disneyland.

Anyway, I haven't read the book yet. But I had lunch with Rich a couple weeks ago, and I did get to hold a proof copy of it. And I have to say, I was duly impressed. It had everything the great, classic books throughout time have had.

There are pages, lot's of 'em. And on almost every single page, words. Lots of 'em. Like Moby Dick and The Bible, it also has a front cover and a back cover.

What more do you need to know? If you need a good laugh, and really, who of us doesn't, then pick up a copy of his book today. You can order your copy here.

And once you're done with it, if you don't mind I'd like to borrow it. Because, you know, twelve bucks is twelve bucks.

The jury is out

Just before last year ended, I got a notice in the mail that I'd managed to avoid for years: a summons to report for jury duty.

Two thoughts immediately collided in my head.

On one hand, if it were me on trial, I would hope to draw a jury that wanted to be there, doing their civic duty and rising to their responsibility as citizens. And I'd definitely want someone like myself in the box. Smart, a critical thinker, an objective listener, an educated individual, someone with a solid moral compass plus good looking and a wicked sense of humor.

Oh yeah, and humble. The complete package.

The other thought was this is going to be a monumental inconvenience and I haven't got the time.

Which is just wrong thinking if you think about it.

Jury duty is the best people watching around. It's a insider's view of the justice system. It also explains why so many verdicts are as controversial and wrong as they are. There are more people than you'd like to think in the jury pool who can't understand basic directions on how to get in line, much less the complicated nuances of a trial.

On one hand it's encouraging to see people show up and ready to serve. On the other hand it's depressing because all I could do for the day I was there was think about how I wouldn't want most of these nitwits deciding my fate.

Last time I had jury duty, years ago, I got as far as the box in the courtroom. The lawyers on the case were asking the jurors questions to decide whether we would be helpful to their case or not. I was asked if I had any relatives in law enforcement, and I let them know my brother-in-law at the time was an Orange County sheriff reserve officer.

"Thank you Juror #9, you're dismissed."

This last visit was to the new courthouse in downtown Long Beach. The juror waiting room was pleasant, comfortable, had vending machines and workstations. The lobby had a Subway and a Mexican food place. For all intents and purposes it could've been the customer waiting lounge in the Lexus service department.

In the late afternoon, the judge called us all into her courtroom, explained that she'd hoped to select a jury but because of day-long proceedings didn't have enough time left. So we were all dismissed.

In a strange way, like a ride you don't want to get on but do and then enjoy, I found myself wanting to do it again. And if I do, this is the way I hope it goes:

Goodbye Blaine

I got some sad news over the weekend. My friend Blaine Lifton died.

I met Blaine many years ago when he was on staff and I was freelancing at DJMC, a retail ad agency in downtown Los Angeles. My art director, the late, great Jim Benedict and I shared an office, and Blaine and his partner shared the office next to us. Thanks to Blaine, it was a great neighborhood to work in.

Blaine was always the person we’d bounce ideas off of. He understood humor as few did—not to mention the ins and outs of the highly-charged agency politics and relationships—and always had a positive energy that lifted everyone he came in contact with.

My permalancer situation ended after a couple years, and unfortunately I lost touch with Blaine. But in one of the very few good things about Facebook, we managed to reconnect years later and remained in touch.

When I went to New York to see Springsteen On Broadway (I know, I’m as surprised as you are), Blaine was the person I saw it with. First we had a long, catching up dinner at Juniors Deli in the theater district, and then we walked to the theater and saw the Boss.

For you fellow Bruce tramps, you’ll appreciate this fact: we sat in row E.

Afterwards, Blaine and I waited with the other fans outside for Bruce to walk from the Walter Kerr Theater stage door to his limo, and then just stood on the sidewalk for an hour talking about the show we’d just seen.

In the years since, Blaine tried a few times to hire me freelance at his New York agency Hyperbolus, but the timing and my availablilty just never worked out. Or maybe it was my day rate. Sometimes it's hard to tell.

Our mutual friend Gina and I spoke in November, and she let me know Blaine was battling colon cancer, and that it had been discovered very late stage. As chemo does, it wiped out his immune system. He caught covid, and passed away last Thursday.

There are certain people that are lights in our lives, and you pick up right where you left off even if it’s been years since you’ve seen them. And they continue to bring smiles to your face every time they visit your thoughts. Blaine is one of them.

God bless you friend. I'm grateful for our reunion and the all too little time we had. Peace on your journey.

Now I don't know how I feel, I don't know how I feel tonight

If I've fallen 'neath the wheel, if I've lost or I've gained sight

I don't even know why, I don't know why I made this call

Or if any of this matters anymore after all

But the stars are burnin’ bright like some mystery uncovered

I’ll keep movin’ through the dark with you in my heart, my blood brother

- Bruce Springsteen

Age of dis-content

It’s going to be a highfaloutin one. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I remember a debate I had with a writer friend of mine years ago. It was her contention everything is art. Everything. Anything you can look at, anything you can see, is art. Following her logic, that would mean everything from dog droppings to curbside refrigerators to posters of IQ45 could be called art.

I however—and I know this will come as a shock— took a contrary position.

It was my view that art must not just create an emotion, but must have an artistic redemptive sensory value, a unique and individual aesthetic and expression that’s intentionally created.

The Artist blog, in part, has this to say about it:

“The dictionary definition of art says that it is “the conscious use of skill and creative imagination, especially in the production of aesthetic objects” (Merriam-Webster). Art is essential to society as it stimulates creativity, reflects culture, fosters empathy, provokes thought, and offers a medium for expression. It enhances society’s intellectual and emotional understanding of the world.

In other words, they agree with me. Being married and having worked in agencies I’m not used to that so I love it when it happens.

And speaking of agencies, that brings me to the point of this piece: content creators.

We’re in a day where everything you can post is considered content. But my argument would be the same as with art: if you define content simply by it being there, then yes. That would mean the idiot comments on Yahoo, Instagram photos of your breakfast and agencies posting their client logos five times a day on LinkedIn would be considered content. But if you, like me, feel content must be meaningful then everything is not content.

In my experience, agencies like to advocate for the idea that they're content creators extraordinaire, with their finger on the social pulse of their target consumer. How's Tide's agency doing with content creation? They have just 60K followers on IG. Kleenex has 31K. Genesis does a little better at 366K. Charmin does a little worse at just under 29K, although to be honest the pictures they'd need to post to get more followers are the ones no one wants to see.

Like "influencer" or "storyteller" before it (see what I think about the "storyteller" image here)—two titles also used recklessy and often at agencies—"content creator" is just another bullshit title anyone can claim anytime they post anything.

Is this post content? Maybe. Is it meaningful? Doubt it. Will it stir up any emotions? Probably. Just not the ones I want.

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.