A glowing recommendation - again

A couple years ago, I stumbled onto a site advertising tours to Chernobyl and posted about it. I haven't thought about it much since, but with HBO airing their Chernobyl miniseries—the feel good television event of the season—now seems like the perfect time to revisit that post.

Of course, I can't actually recommend you sign up for the tour. But then, if the summer hotels and flights you wanted are booked, you have to go somewhere. AmIrite?

Anyway, read all about it and let me know if you make plans to go. Important money-saving tip: you'll only need a one-way ticket.

Summer's coming, and it's never too early to start planning that vacation.

Instead of dragging the kids to some boring, expected vacation destination with things to see and do, like Hawaii or New York, why not take them someplace they'll have memories of for a lifetime? Or a half-lifetime.

The Chornobyl Tour sounds like fun for the whole family. Just read all the glowing reviews.

Like me, I'll bet you have a lot of questions about it. I know what my first question would be, and I'm sure I know what yours is too. But—and this is the funny part—it's not the first question on the website's FAQs. That position belongs to this one about cost:

Even with the answer they give, they don't address the hidden costs. You know, things like replacement shoes, burn ointment, vomit bags—lots of vomit bags, toilet paper—lots of toilet paper, wigs and more. But I'm sure you find out about those soon enough. And as far as that top of mind question you were going to ask, don't worry, they do answer it somewhere around number 11 or 12.

Anyway, I think getting a taste of what the post-Apocalyptic landscape is like is a super idea, and especially timely now that the liar-in-chief is president and will probably nuke someplace just to distract us from the Russia story.

We'll be living in it before we know it.

Of course, Chornobyl is in Russia. So the good news is if we can wait just a bit, we'll be able to make reservations for the Precedential Suite in the new Chornobyl Trump Tower.

Don't worry about finding it. The sign is lit up around the clock.

Emergency equipment

Parenting is much more an art form than a science. It's open to different styles, various interpretations and has different value depending on who's doing it.

But I think I'm safe in saying the one thing all parenting has in common is it's gonna cost ya.

Both of my kids have gone to out-of-state colleges, one in Texas and one in Iowa. Don't ask. Anyway the one in Texas transferred back here after his freshman year, but he still has a little gift I gave him when he first moved out.

The emergency credit card. They both have one.

It's the peace of mind card, the one that let's them take a cab home when they find themselves outside a club in the senseless murder district at midnight. The one that says use me at urgent care to stop the bleeding, or get antibiotics for the sinus infection. It's the airline ticket if they have to come home in a hurry.

Yes it's the credit card I gave them to be used in emergencies, but I now realize the other thing I should've given them is a long lecture on exactly what constitutes an emergency.

Buying posters from artists you like, new shoes, that cute sweater—you know the one, sushi because it's the best sushi place in Iowa (how many can there be?) are all examples of non-emergencies.

Yet every once in awhile, I put on my little green visor, open up the inter webs and go through the "emergency" charges my darling offspring have made. And almost every time, one or two of them will spring out at me like a Jack In The Box, or a coiled rattler.

That sound you hear is my wallet screaming.

I don't want to make it seem like they're on wild spending sprees with my money. They're not. For the most part, they let me know when they're buying something on the card, or they ask if they can.

But as any parent will tell you, it doesn't matter how old your kids get—they're always testing you and seeing how far they can push it.

And sometimes that means re-zoning the borders of Emergencytown right up against Retailville.

Downton Jeffy

I’ll be the first to admit every once in awhile I’m late to the high tea party.

A few years ago, I remember walking through my living room as my wife and daughter, both of whom I recognized immediately, were watching Downton Abbey. They invited me to join them, but I had better things to do than sit through what I assumed was a boring British period piece where I couldn’t understand half the things they were saying.

Whose language is it anyway?

Besides, if it didn’t involve cooking meth, a rock and roll singer from New Jersey, a mob family or playing craps I wasn’t that interested. Yes I drive a very narrow lane. Shut up.

Fast forward. The wife and I are in a theater, and we see a trailer for Downton Abbey: The Motion Picture coming out this September. It revealed nothing, other than an interest on her part to re-watch the entire TV series in preparation for seeing the film. She invited me to watch it with her, and, never being one to miss an opportunity to score some marriage points, I agreed.

Here’s the thing: I am so hooked. I love this show in a way I have loved very few shows. It’s totally character driven, and the lives of the Crawley family are as interesting and intriguing as said meth kingpins or mob bosses.

There's no shortage of palace intrigue at the Abbey. Murder, rape, World Wars, the Titanic sinking, relatives dying, bastard children, backstabbing, romance, betrayal, sexual identity crisis, illicit affairs, women's liberation and the changing times just after the turn of the century are all a part of it.

Then there’s the brilliant, subtle, nuanced, hitting-every-note acting. A British cast for the most part (with one notable exception being a pivotal character played by Shirley MacClaine), each character has an opportunity to shine with a storyline devoted to them. My personal favorite standout is Dame Maggie Smith, a distinguished and accomplished actor, who if you don't know her large body of work which covers over 70 years, you'll at least remember her as Professor Minerva McGonagall from the Harry Potter series. She conveys more with a look than most actors do with a soliloquy.

The show itself is like watching a feature film every episode. Rich, beautiful cinematography, stunning scenery, magnificent production design and a wardrobe budget costume designers wait their entire career for.

The writing is, as they say, spot on. Beyond cleverly written, each character (and there are a lot of them) is completely drawn.

As of this writing I’ve just finished up season four, which ended on a sweet note with a heartfelt Christmas episode. I cried like a baby. My macho self-esteem is not threatened.

If you have the time, Downton Abbey is well worth the binge. As Violet Crawley (Maggie Smith) says, "It seems a pity to miss such a good pudding."

Quite right.

The creative review

Here's what doesn't happen in the insurance business. A group of senior management people don't get together in a room with the underwriters every time they write a policy to evaluate how well they've done it.

"I don't know, it just seems to me you could've referenced a more recent actuarial table." "With regards to the deductible, does that line up with the property value in terms of reimbursement?" It doesn't happen in insurance, or most industries. Oh sure, someone takes a quick look before it goes out, but it doesn't have to go through committee.

Because, as any third-grader could tell you, that would be bullshit and a monumental waste of time and resources.

But in advertising, you can't underestimate people's need to be part of the process. And because creative work is the product, it's the one dance everyone likes being invited to.

If you're not familiar with creative reviews, it's where anywhere from one person to several people working on the account, near the account, in the same hallway as the account or in the building next door to the account get together and "review" the work to make sure it's on strategy, saying and doing what it's supposed to. At least that's the theory.

Now a few different things can happen in creative reviews. The work can just go through swimmingly, earning nodding heads, praise, kudos and unanimous agreement from everyone. This rarely happens.

Another way it could go is the creative director will see something strategically off point and, so as not to embarrass the creative team, gently offer up meaningful, constructive suggestions how to course correct to make the work more relevant and effective. This too is a rare occurrence.

Usually, especially if deadlines are tight (they always are) or clients are demanding (they always are), or the creative director has had their own work shot down by the client more times than Glenn Close's dreams of winning an Oscar, it's a complete and total shit show.

There are certain creative directors—although God knows, and let me make this as clear as I can, none that I work with—who just love to hear themselves talk. They laugh heartily at their own jokes, and are constantly taking trips down memory lane reliving their glory days which may or may not have ever actually happened. You can almost set a clock to it—that's right about the time they not so much critique your work as explain exactly how they'd do it. Then they ask you to take another shot at it.

Which, as anyone who's been on the receiving end of that comment will tell you is code for go back to your office—or assigned open office seating space—and do up what they just told you.

Here's the thing: I'm not Hemingway (if you follow this blog even a little you already know that). And while I'm also not a junior reporting for his first day of work, I get the process. Someone with a bigger title and pay grade has to look at the work to make sure it's hitting the marks it's supposed to. But when it's, oh, just for argument's sake let's say an overrated, egotistical, abusive, job-jumping, work-stealing, credit-grabbing, kickback-taking alcoholic who's shut down every agency they've ever worked at and wouldn't know a good idea if they fu..er...tripped over it (family blog)—again, not that I work with anyone like that—then it becomes somewhat frustrating.

On the other hand, it does make for good blog material.

Sounds familiar

Almost six years ago, I wrote the post you see here. I know what you're thinking: "He's been pumping out this crap for six years?!"

One man's crap is another man's shinola, or something like that.

The point is I don't like to recycle my posts, but six years later this one is still as relevant as ever.

How do I know? Because in my day job writing about a luxury automotive brand, I find myself using the same exact words I speak about in the post. I'm not proud.

I guess what I'm saying is even though this is a pre-owned article, it's been through a 140-word inspection and reads just like new. Take it out for a test read, and experience it for yourself.

Like a lot of writers living in Southern California, I’ve worked on many car accounts. From top end $90,000 luxury vehicles to $14,000 coffee-grinders, I’ve written it all.

Commercials, collateral, radio spots, print ads, online banners, interactive content, Twitter posts, Facebook posts, outdoor, customer kits, dealer kits, CPO kits, sale kits, employee bonus kits, warranty kits.

Oddly enough, no matter the price or quality of the car, they all have something in common. The words used to describe them.

Pick a car, any car. I bet it’s exhilarating. It’s probably also a leader in innovation. No doubt it’s been engineered to maximize your driving experience, and designed to turn heads as well as corners.

Let’s not forget the fact it’s also loaded with state-of-the-art technology, as well as class-leading aerodynamics whose job it is to keep you connected to the road. How else could you get a car that makes setting the standard, standard.

But there's no point to any of it unless you're around to enjoy it. That's why the car you're thinking about is loaded with the latest active and passive safety features.

The cars come with airbags. The agencies come with windbags.

Differentiating parity products - different brands with the exact same features - has always been a problem in advertising. Often the only thing that does it is the quality of the creative idea, the consistency of the execution and the personality it establishes for the brand.

I bet you know what BMW builds. But I'm fairly sure you aren't nearly as familiar with the tagline Toyota - which builds awesome cars for all income levels - just spent millions to introduce.

Unless there's a real product difference, almost every category from athletic shoes to cars to fast food use the same words to describe their product. Which makes it even harder to tell them apart.

Sort of like ad agencies.

My track record

I think after the last couple years we’ve had it's about time we all had some good news for a change. AmIrite? So here it is: I’ve lost around 15 lbs. in the last few weeks.

Now I know what you’re thinking: “But Jeff, you looked so fabulous to start with - a perfect physical specimen really - you didn’t need to lose any weight.” First of all, thank you for noticing.

Second, let’s remember I wear a lot of black and black is your friend.

And finally, despite how right I’d like to think you are, it’s a numbers game and I know the numbers.

What's the secret to my success? How have I done it? Well, besides cutting down on the food I jam in my piehole at all hours of the day and night, it hasn’t been too difficult. I’ve been using an app called My Fitness Pal to track everything I eat.

Doctors, the people who play them on television and the ones in real life, keep saying 2000 calories is the average for a grown man. So I've arbitrarily set the calories I can take in at 1920 a day. It was a fine year, and it's an even number. Next, I track what I eat religiously. I’m now on the 75th day of my tracking streak. Some days I go over the calorie limit, but it’s just one of the limits I go over on a regular basis.

”No officer, I didn’t see the sign.”

As far as those calories I get to have, I try to make them healthy ones, even if in the loosest sense of the word. Although it’s fine if they’re not entirely healthy as long as they fall in the count.

At least that's what I tell myself. And if we can't fool ourselves...

My Fitness Pal is owned by Under Armor, and has its own online community. Which means my weight fluxuations are probably all over the internet, in the cloud, available to Ukrainian hackers, coding classes and, as I like to think of myself, real athletes.

Anyway, wish me luck and continued success. If it all goes well, you’ll be seeing a lot less of me soon.

And while I'm not able to tell you exactly how many calories are in a black and white cookie from the deli, yet, I can tell you an In-N-Out Double Double protein-style is 520 calories.

Don’t ask how I know.

One from the heart

If you’ve been following this blog for any reasonable amount of time—and really, if you have you need to get outside more—then you already know I have what we could accurately call a slightly compulsive side to my otherwise sparkling personality.

Whether it’s food, movies, jokes, the crap tables or in this case, music, I’ll latch onto something then run it mercilessly into the ground, usually driving everyone around me crazy along the way.

I think by now you know a certain gravel-voiced singer from New Jersey is one of my life long obsessions. I don’t even want to think about the money, time, travel and effort that’s gone into following him around the country for years. I’m not complaining: it goes without saying, even though I’m going to say it, that I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.

Especially the trips where I got double airline miles.

Well, the bad news for those around me on the friends and family plan is I believe I may have found another artist I can see myself getting that obsessed about. His name is Paul Thorn.

Gravel voiced, bluesy, honest, beautifully written songs that speak directly to and from the heart, he’s the real deal. In a world of singer/songwriters who should be wildly famous and popular, Paul Thorn is right up there at the top of the list.

How did I find out about him? Funny you should ask. I was surfing YouTube for a funky Donny Fritts video, as one does. The video I found was a song called Temporarily Forever Mine. I loved the idea of the title, and it was a beautiful song. I noticed it’d been written by some guy named Paul Thorn.

For the next four hours, I went down a YouTube rabbit hole watching his videos over and over (compulsive, remember?). I was hooked.

I went to his website, paulthorn.com, to see where he was touring. Come to find out the only Southern California show he was doing on his current tour was at a club called Belly Up in Solana Beach, near San Diego. On a Monday night. Not the best night or the closest venue, but it didn’t matter. I was going to see him and nothing could stop me - except for the torrential rainstorm that decided to hit the night he was playing. I couldn’t leave work early enough, and even if I could have traffic was impossible.

So, disappointed though I was, I checked his site again to see if there were any other cities I could catch up with him. Turns out, while I was sleeping, he added a Newport Beach show just two nights later.

Long story long, I scored two tickets to the sold out show. The wife couldn't join me, so I invited my friend Eric - a fine musician in his own right - and we went and saw him. It was spectacular. He performed an earlier album of his in its entirety, as well as several other songs of his. And one Jackson 5 song, which made me love him more.

You'll notice I haven't done any Jason Statham jokes. First, I'm pretty sure he's heard them all. And second, he was a professional boxer who at one time went six rounds with Roberto Duran, so I don't want to upset him.

Anyway, here are a few videos to give you a little flavor of what I'm talking about. I hope you like him as much as I do.

And should you decide you want to see him live, just say when. I’m in.