Encore post: What's the rumpus

Last night the wife and I were doing a little channel surfing, and came across one of my favorite films of all time - Miller's Crossing. I was going to post about what a great film it is and how much I love it, but then I realized I'd already done that nine years ago. So you get to read it (maybe for the second time), and I don't have to write a new post. It's what I like to call a win-win. What's the rumpus is a recurring line in the movie. It's so good, someone really should grab that URL. Oh wait, someone already has. Enjoy the post. And as Gabriel Byrne as Tom Reagan says, "Don't get hysterical."

From the first frames of Blood Simple, I've been a Coen Brothers fan. I've enjoyed everything they've done. I even managed to find a few lines worth hearing in The Ladykillers.

But for now and always, my favorite Coen Brothers film is Miller's Crossing.

For me, it's pitch perfect on every level. The writing in particular is so authentic and of the time, it demands attention to follow exactly what's going on. I like movies where I'm required to be an active participant and not an innocent bystander. I also like movies where I don't know what's coming, or, as Tom Reagan (Gabriel Byrne) would say, what the play is.

On the surface it's a gangster film. But it's really about loyalties, relationships, jealously, consequences, love and sacrifice in the most honorable sense.

Brilliant performances all the way around, it's also the movie that made Gabriel Byrne a star (at least in America), and introduced us to Marcia Gay Harden. Albert Finney is superb as mob boss Leo. The film is also filled with Coen Bros. favorites: Jon Polito is brilliant as usual as rival mob boss Casper. John Turturro gives yet another of his eccentric, memorable, scene-stealing performances (while we're talking about Turturro, have a look at him in Big Lebowski). Steve Buscemi, although not going through a wood-chipper in this one like he did in Fargo, has a short, memorable bit that's pure gold.

If you have an eye for detail, you'll notice an apartment building in the film called the Barton Arms. If you're a Coen Bros. fan, you'll know why that's so cool.

Sadly Miller's Crossing didn't do nearly as well commercially as it deserved to because it had the unlucky honor of being a gangster film released the same year as Goodfellas and Godfather III. For me, of the three, it's the best of its' genre.

In this movie, as one of the characters says, "Up is down, black is white." I say Miller's Crossing is a great film you owe it to yourself to see.

COVID the musical

My close personal friend and RoundSeventeen raconteur Rich Siegel is currently on the uphill side of his first case of covid. He writes about it here.

Which got me thinking (eventually something had to), now that the world has emerged, relatively, from the wrath of covids' heyday, it’s time to look at what we’ve been through in a different light. Many articles have been written about the pandemic, and with each new variant that rears its ugly head, every winter surge and every new booster shot comes an entirely new crop of articles.

I wanted to take a different approach. Instead of dry, medical journal ramblings, I feel the world is finally in a good place, done blowing their nose and ready to tap their toes. So, with that in mind, I’m happy to announce rehearsals will be starting soon for Broadway’s next theater event of the season: Covid Tonight!

You’re in your seat, the houselights go down, the curtain comes up. Spotlights hit the stage as singers belt out the opening number.

Did you hear? Did you hear? It’s getting very near.
Before you can say “vaccination” it’ll already be here
Did you hear? Did you hear? There’s nothing to really fear
The president said it’ll just go away, it’ll just disappear!

Well, we all know how Cadet Bone Spurs prediction worked out. But I digress. Like any great show about a deadly disease, Covid Tonight! will have something for everyone. There’ll be a lot of show-stopping numbers as we travel back down covid memory lane. Like this slow, poignant number speaking to the cure that was in front of us all along.

It’s the guest no one wants, it’s the gift to be returned
It’s the illness that haunts, it’s a cause for great concern
And if you can’t escape it, and at the door it knocks
The cure is already in your laundry room, in a bottle called Clorox

Ah, the good old days when IQ45 told us all we needed to do was pump some bleach into our veins to kill the covid virus. If only he'd taken the lead and shown us how.

As all shows do, the curtain must fall on Covid Tonight! Will it end on a happy note? A caustic warning? An optimistic view of the viral future?

Now the virus has seemingly run its course, at least its that way for now
And Pfizer and Moderna have turned it into a cash cow
We're happy that it's rarer these day, in fact let's raise a cup
But before we celebrate too much let's remember to mask up.

T-shirts, hats and soundtrack CDs are available in the lobby.

Soup's on

Where to start, where to start. Alright, let’s start here.

Ask anyone who knows me, and they’ll tell you: I have opinions. Sometimes I even have them on things that really don’t require them.

”Why are you putting the mugs in the cabinet like that?”

Also, throughout my life, it’s fair to say I’m no stranger to protesting vigorously for many worthy causes, against injustice and for legislative reform to name a few. I’ve peacefully marched, chanted, waived my sign and sat-in along with thousands of like-minded people to help sway public sentiment to the cause, whatever the cause happens to be.

Here’s the not-so-secret to protesting: you want to convert people to your side, not turn them against you. And your tactics need to reflect that. As I’ve said in every ad agency I’ve ever worked in, it ain’t brain surgery.

So when an environmental group decides to protest by hurling soup at the most famous artistic treasure in the world, the Mona Lisa, or protesters block the 101 freeway in downtown Los Angeles at rush hour—preventing parents from picking up their kids, ambulances from getting patients to hospitals and tow trucks from removing stalled vehicles that were already blocking traffic—it occurs to me the organizers might not be making the statement they think they’re making.

And if you’ve ever driven the 101 at rush hour, you know they’re not swaying anyone to their side by blocking it.

I said it up top. I’m all for protest and free expression. But if you're keeping score, the brain trusts that planned these particular displays did zero for their causes and a hundred per cent in making people hate them and not even care what it was all for.

There are far too many serious issues in the world that need to be addressed. The reason you protest in the first place is there are forces fighting and working against you.

Maybe it’d be more helpful to not fight and work against yourself.

Going to the Matt

For the life of me I don’t understand why YouTube isn’t called RabbitHole. I can’t tell you how many of them I’ve gone down late into the night when sleep seems to have lost my address.

Well, I could tell you but it’d just be embarrassing. Although if you’ve followed this blog for any length of time, you know embarrassing isn’t necessarily a dealbreaker.

Anyway, I was going to do a post about my favorite song in the world by a certain gravel-voiced singer from New Jersey, Thunder Road. And I was going to include several versions of it like I’ve done in the past for songs like Tracks of My Tears, Unchained Melody and I Can't Make You Love Me.

That’s when I came across a TR cover by Matt Nathanson.

I’m not particularly fond of Springsteen covers, but Matt Nathanson’s version grabbed me immediately. In the video, there’s a bit of a preamble to the song that showed me humor, and then heart, with a voice that’s as emotional as it is enjoyable.

Buckle up, down the rabbithole I go.

His song Used To Be hits home hard, as does the winsome Blush. Besides, how can you not like a singer with a song where the first line is “I fell asleep, had a dream Bill Murray and I were friends….” I know, right?

Ask anyone who knows me and they’ll tell you that I’m a talented writer and good looking, but could stand to lose a few pounds. Wait, I may have gotten off point there. What I meant was they’ll let you know when I find a song or a singer I like, I play them into oblivion until I have to take a break from them for a while.

Honestly, I just don’t see that happening with Matt Nathanson. He’s one of those singers you can’t help but wonder why he’s not a bigger star, and why his songs aren’t playing everywhere.

See what I mean. Have a look and a listen.

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