Supreme stupidity

Never underestimate the ability of conservative, Republican Supreme Court justices to uphold a woman hating, base-pandering, self-serving, Obama-bashing, turning-the-clock-back decades decision.

In a 5-4 decision, the Supreme Court ruled today certain for-profit companies, on grounds of religious beliefs, can’t be required to pay for specific types of contraceptives for their employees.

Just when I thought conservative Republicans couldn’t stoop any lower. They must be breaking out the streamers and confetti at the Hannity house.

This decision would be comical and unthinkable – more like a parody of the Court on Saturday Night Live – except for the fact it’s so heinous, and so transparent in its agenda to derail Obamacare.

Justice Ginsburg, always a center of common sense and decency - not because of who she was appointed by but because of who she is and how she thinks - wrote the court’s dissenting opinion. I completely share her views, and certainly can’t word it any better than she did. Here are a few choice selections from it:

"Religious organizations exist to foster the interests of persons subscribing to the same religious faith. Not so of for-profit corporations. Workers who sustain the operations of those corporations commonly are not drawn from one religious community."

"Would the exemption…extend to employers with religiously grounded objections to blood transfusions (Jehovah's Witnesses); antidepressants (Scientologists); medications derived from pigs, including anesthesia, intravenous fluids, and pills coated with gelatin (certain Muslims, Jews, and Hindus); and vaccinations[?]…Not much help there for the lower courts bound by today's decision."

"Approving some religious claims while deeming others unworthy of accommodation could be 'perceived as favoring one religion over another,' the very 'risk the [Constitution's] Establishment Clause was designed to preclude."

"It bears note in this regard that the cost of an IUD is nearly equivalent to a month's full-time pay for workers earning the minimum wage."

"The exemption sought by Hobby Lobby and Conestoga would…deny legions of women who do not hold their employers' beliefs access to contraceptive coverage"

Conestoga Wood Specialties and the Hobby Lobby were the companies that brought the case to the Supreme Court. On the Hobby Lobby website, co-founder Barbara Green posts the decision as “A victory for religious liberty,“ which is one way to look at it - if you happen to share Ms. Green’s religious point of view, which I'm willing to bet not each and every one of the Hobby Lobby's female employees do.

What will probably, and should, happen now is the Obama administration will find a work around to this lamebrain decision. It will probably end up covering contraception in one way or another. And of course the lawsuits against the insurance companies will start shortly.

So hats off to the Republican party by way of the Supreme Court. Your misogyny, your hatred for Obama (Huh, wonder what could be the reason for that?), your desire to set back progress time and time again either by doing nothing or by undoing what's been done, has today handed you a victory I have absolutely no doubt will backfire on you in a way so huge, it'll have Karl Rove babbling like an idiot again saying you've won when the numbers say you've lost come election time.

If this wrong-minded, partisan decision didn't hurt so many, that might almost make it worth it.

Giving her away

Despite what it looks like from the picture, this isn't a post about the movie Father of the Bride. It's about what I learned at a wedding tonight about being one.

Someday my baby girl is going to get married, and I'll be the one who walks her down the aisle and gives her away. Well, I hope I'm walking. I could be rolling down the aisle in my wheelchair with my oxygen tank clanging behind me. I prefer to think that won't be the case.

Anyway, as my daughter will testify, I've been known to say some wildly inappropriate things sometimes (I know! I'm as shocked as you are). On the (frequent) occasions when that happens, my beautiful, brilliant daughter just rolls her eyes and says in a stern, reprimanding way, "Dad. So wrong." I'm sure I've embarrassed her more than enough in her life.

Tonight I learned that I will never do it on her wedding day.

The father of the bride this evening gave a speech before the father/daughter dance. He talked about how "dramatic" she was growing up. He mentioned all the things she'd wanted to be but never managed to accomplish. He went into some story about how one time she'd cut her eye on the zipper of a sweatshirt she was taking off and started screaming for a plastic surgeon. He told the groom he hoped he could deal with all the "drama" that follows her.

He stopped just short of saying, "Good luck. She's your problem now."

It was a genuinely cringe-worthy speech, and everyone at the reception was praying he'd stop talking. I imagine no one more so than his daughter. And eventually he did, thanked everyone for coming to the wedding, and had his dance with his daughter.

As I was listening, it became clear with every word he was focusing on all the wrong things.

He didn't say how grateful he was to have a daughter as loving, beautiful and smart as her. He neglected to say what a lovely young woman she'd grown up to be. He never mentioned that his heart was breaking because his little girl was getting married, and even though he'd always be the man in her heart, he wouldn't be the first one anymore. He left out that the happiest day of his life was when she was born. And he never told the groom he'd better treat her like a queen, or he'd have to answer to him.

In other words, he didn't say all the things I will.

The inner circle

When it comes to friends, in everyones life there's the inner circle, the outer circle and the circles in between. If I'm minding my relationships properly, the ratio of people in the inner circle should be a lot less than the number of friends in the outer circle.

The in-betweens are really more acquaintances who I have varying degrees of fondness for, depending on things like what they do or say, how I feel that day or if they remember my birthday (hint: it's not on Facebook).

The thing about friendships is they aren't always clear cut.

Sometimes people move from one circle to the next, then back again. And the definition of what keeps them in which one is a moving target.

When that happens, the diagram starts to look less like a circle and more like a maze.

The point I'm taking my sweet time getting to is I have a group of friends who, even though I've known them for years, I don't know as well or as long as my best friends. I don't see them as often, yet they're quickly advancing towards the center ring.

These are people I respect. I think are funny. I get excited about seeing a comment from on Facebook or my blog. These are friends who challenge me, and push me past roadblocks to accomplish things I never thought I could.

These are people who aren't afraid to tell me when one of my blogposts starts sounding like an Apple manifesto.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not talking about neediness. I'd call it more of an investment in friendship and feedback.

I feel like I'm rambling a bit here. But only because I'm rambling a bit here.

I'm not going to name names, because I don't want to embarrass anyone or hurt their feelings. Although, really, if you're feelings are so easily hurt by a blogpost that at most three people read on a regular basis, you're probably in the outer circle anyway.

Anyway, next time we meet, if you want to know what circle you're in I'll let you know.

Especially if it's the inner one.

The thrill of the chase

I've written here about how hard it is for agencies to let an account go, even when the hour is late and it's way past time for them to say goodnight.

The flip side of that, and no less sad and demoralizing, is when agencies somehow manage to get themselves an invitation to pitch an account they don't have a chance in hell of getting.

The advertising landscape is littered with storyboards from small, start-up agencies with one office, a purple bean bag chair, a five-year old laptop and a staff of three who all thought they had "just as good a chance as anyone" to land General Motors. Or American Airlines. Or Budweiser. Or Hilton.

It's only after these global accounts go through the review, and do what they were inevitably going to do in the first place - award their business to a global agency - that these agencies feel the cold water tossed in their face, and come to the grim and true-from-the-start realization they never had a chance.

Never. Had. A. Chance.

Despite the amazing creative they did. The unbelievably thorough presentation deck. And the supermodel receptionist, who's brother's cousin's nephew's best friend went to an improv class six years ago with one of the hundred and seventy brand managers, which is how they weaseled an invite to the dance in the first place.

Lot of good your principal involvement, unmatched agility, media agnostic positioning and social integration did you.

It's not hard to see why they take the shot. Every agency wants to play in the big leagues. They all want a showcase account they can hopefully do some killer work on, then use it as a calling card to get into pitches with other global clients they won't stand a chance with.

There's some lesson to be learned here about a sense of entitlement. And believing that just because you have some brilliant insights that's going to be enough get the job done.

Sometimes, many times, with clients that big, sad but true, great ads are the least of it. They're looking for infrastructure, global presence and some actual media leverage to support the effort. Or maybe they're just looking for an agency with some maturity, both figuratively and literally.

The point is, in every industry there's a hierarchy. Steps to climb. Dues to pay. Even if you've been in business a while, it still takes time to arrive.

Everyone wants to be the agency that has the insights the client is going to spark to. But even more valuable to them would be an agency who knows who they are. Knows what they can do and can't do.

Not that you asked, but my suggestion would be to play to your strength. Build your story by going after accounts you can actually win.

If you're as smart as the presentation deck says, you'll know who they are.

A deliberate cover up

I've never been particularly paranoid. But I will cop to the fact I have a little OCD about certain things.

For example, I check the door several times when I leave the house to make sure it's locked. Then I start to walk to the car, forget whether I locked the door or not, and come back and check it again.

I also check the oven at least two or three times to make sure there's no gas flame on the burners.

Admittedly, I unplug the chargers around the house before I go, not to save on the electric bills but, like the oven, to make sure there's not a short and the house doesn't burn down.

Call it what you will. I prefer to think of it as being thorough.

The other place I always happily err on the side of caution is when it comes to guarding my personal information. At least as much as I can in the age of the interwebs.

When I sort through my mail, I have two piles. One goes in the trash as is, and the other - almost always the larger pile - goes in my heavy-duty, industrial strength, cross-cut, fifteen-page-at-a-time feed shredder.

Next to my kids laughing, hearing credit card applications, bank statements and old tax receipts being shredded is the sweetest sound.

My friend, and occasional art director partner Mike Kelly likes to make fun of me for taking precautions the way I do. When we work together, he loves to chide me with the fact he does all his financial business - banking, taxes, loans - online. He knows it makes me crazy. I always tell him he's an identity theft waiting to happen. But he's never worried about it, and it's never happened to him.

It's happened to me twice. Maybe he has the right idea.

Anyway, my family certainly knows this aspect of my personality, which is why when it came to giving me the perfect gift, they gave me one they had no doubt I'd love.

What this little baby does is pictured above. Basically, it's a home redacting system. Simply run it over the document you want to render unreadable, and then it is. Despite it's diminutive size, it packs a powerful punch when it comes to my sense of security. Okay, maybe I have issues. What's it to you?

Anyway, it's my kind of gift and I couldn't be happier about it.

And let's face it: I can't carry the shredder everywhere.

King of pain

Maybe his real name's the one Steve Martin introduced him with on Saturday Night Live.

Stingy.

Today Sting announced not only do his kids not have trust funds, they also won't be getting any of his money when he goes to that Royal Albert Hall in the sky. Apparently, he has two reasons: one is there probably won't be any left. And the other is he plans on spending it all.

So the second reason makes the first one a certainty.

I'm sure that'll just add to all the good feelings his kids have already when they think about dad missing all their formative years with them while he was out earning a living and getting after show, um, backrubs (this is a family blog) from 20-year old groupies.

He's quoted as saying his vast wealth would just "be albatrosses" around the necks of his six children. I'm very sure it's a burden they could learn to live with.

As so many multi-millionaires have said, they don't want their children to have a sense of entitlement. I'm not sure when the idea of good parenting and leaving your kids financially comfortable became mutually exclusive. Seems to me you can teach children to be responsible, have a good work ethic, be good and charitable people, and at the same time provide them enough financial support to let them focus on doing what they love, and making a difference in the world.

The environment is competitive enough as it is today. I can't even imagine what it'll be like when my kids are out on their own in the world. If I could give them a head start and a soft landing when it comes to keeping themselves afloat, I'd do it in a heartbeat.

I wish my parents had been able to do it for me.

And while we're on it, what's the deal with Sting cutting them off entirely? Even Warren Buffett said, "I want to give my kids just enough so they would feel that they could do anything, but not so much that they would feel like doing nothing."

That sounds about right.

Lest we forget, the one percent of money left after Warren gives it all to charity while he's alive will still be more than most people earn in their lifetime. Sigh.

But maybe Sting is just being pragmatic. He probably realizes that, based on his most recent album sales, his next experimental Neo-soul electronica jazz fusion Peruvian Ska African Norse album featuring folksongs in their original Aramaic from the sixth century isn't going to sell as well as Synchronicity did. He's just planning ahead.

Meanwhile, I'll keep trying to explain to my kids why they can't go to an Ivy League school, and try to convince them that trade schools are very underrated.

Retiring the bit

When it comes to comedy, there's been no shortage of male/female teams.

Nicols and May. Stiller and Meara. Lucy and Desi. Sid and Imogene. Burns and Allen.

Each of them has a famous bit, a signature routine that always kills when they perform it.

My wife and I know the feeling.

We happen to have a few comedy stylings of our own. And while our teaming isn't nearly as famous as some of those others, hilarity still ensues when the occasion calls for it, and we decide to bring the funny. It's safe to say our most popular bit by far is "The Wedding Guests."

If you haven't caught our act at any nuptials lately, here's how it plays. When the requisite wedding videographer finally wanders over to us to record a comment for posterity about the bride and groom, or the DJ starts passing around the mic for a toast, we launch into it.

The premise is that we stumbled into the wedding by accident, get the bride and groom's name wrong, and then the wife corrects me.

Let's for arguments sake say the couple's real names are Bob and Susan. It would go a little something like this:

ME: We actually don't know anyone here. We were driving down (name of street the wedding venue is on) looking for the Boot Barn, when we heard this music coming out of here. So we came in, and it was great cause there was all this free food. But, as long as we're here, we'd like to give our best wishes and congratulations to Steven and Christina...

(The wife taps me on the shoulder, pulls me aside and whispers something in my ear)

ME:...I mean Bob and Susan, for a long, loving happy marriage.

And end scene.

It always gets a laugh from the crowd. And the fact that they've probably had a few champagne toasts before they get to us doesn't hurt. But still, funny is funny.

Well, it is right up until the couple thinks you've actually forgotten their real names. Then, not so funny. I have a sneaking suspicion that's what may have happened at our latest performance.

It's never happened before, and actually it never occurred to us that it could. But the last thing we'd ever want to do is add additional stress to what should otherwise be the best day of their lives.

We apologized right after in case they thought we really got it wrong. But let me apologize again. Here. Worldwide. (I don't know if the comedy will translate to the many countries who read this blog, but humor is the universal language. Right after money, prestige and oil).

Anyway, to avoid any future misunderstandings, the wife and I have made the decision to retire the bit. From now on, when we go to weddings and are asked to say a little something for or about the bride and groom, that's just what we'll do. And we'll use their correct names the first time out to make sure they know that we know exactly who they are.

Besides, if I'm going for laughs, I can always do the scene from The Graduate at the ceremony.