The JackB

"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'." Groucho Marx

Archives for July 2011

Posts You Didn’t Read But Should Have

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Friends I am hard at work preparing the most perfect, popular and perfect posts to ever be posted so I don’t have a brand new one for you to read. Ok, that is not true that boundaries in blogging was written six hours ago, but I digress.

At the moment I am in the midst of work that only a father can do so you’ll have to hang loose for a bit until I can grab a vine and swing back over. Should be soon, just not now.

Plus special bonus posts from the secret archives:

There Are Boundaries In Blogging

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Several years ago in the midst of the second intifada and the horrors of terrorists engaging in suicide bombing someone put together a YouTube video of the aftermath of the attacks. The first time I watched it I felt pieces of my humanity fade away and my blood began to boil. I stared at chunks of flesh, burnt clothing and these hideous looking carcasses that were once human bodies. I stared at it and remembered watching the video of Daniel Pearl’s murder.

You have to understand that I never intended to watch Daniel, but I did. You have to understand that he and I grew up in the same neighborhood. We went to the same places and the same high school. He was older than I am, but not so old that he was unknown to the older siblings of my friends. I watched that in horror and recognized that it could have been me. I have a BA in Journalism and I could have been kidnapped and murdered.

The bombings in Israel are things that I take very seriously. There is no insouciance or game playing there. I have family and friends all over the country. I have been all over the country. I know people who were murdered in the attacks and have relatives killed in the wars. Sadly I can write similar things about the Holocaust- but this isn’t about any of those things.

I look at those areas and I am sad, but I see murder in the name of religion and politics and that is different than what I am about to introduce. It is different because tonight I saw the video of the father who died at a baseball game. Tonight I saw a father standing next to his son fall over the railing at a Texas Rangers game.

His son was standing next to him when he fell. In some ways this is one of the most horrific things that I have ever seen. I can’t help but put myself in his position and wonder about his poor son and really my heart breaks. He watched his father fall and die.

And I find myself staring at this screen and thinking about what is appropriate to share and what isn’t. I could use the name of the father and I could embed the video but I choose not to. I am not interested in generating traffic from searches for his name. In the years to come I don’t want his children or loved ones to find my blog and ask themselves why they need to relive something so painful here.

I am not sure if I have always been sensitive to this sort of thing. I don’t think that I started to really consider the boundaries of blogging until a couple of years ago, but I am trying to do my best to be good about it. There are some stories that aren’t mine to tell or to share. There are things that are best left unsaid.

The children and I speak frequently about the internet and how it can help and hurt you. The words we post are only safe and secure until we hit publish. It doesn’t matter if you write about copyrights or publish other paragraphs/badges that are supposed to protect you because not everyone honors those. So you have to assume that once you hit publish it is fair game and you can’t control where it will end up.

That is part of why I worry about boundaries. I have already had my work plagiarized and seen  people take my words out of context for the sole purpose of trying to discredit me. I accept that this is a part of blogging and understand that there is risk. And it is because of this risk that I wonder aloud about where I need to draw those lines. What is truly mine to share and what is not.

In the quiet of the dark I ask you, what do you think?

Customer Service Is Dead At The Supermarket

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I am not a huge fan of shopping, but I don’t hate it either. For that matter I kind of enjoy spending time and Trader Joes and Costco. They certainly are better than a crowded mall, unless it is right before a holiday in which case they are just as horrible as every other retail establishment.

Supermarkets aren’t all that bad either. I can’t say that I like them as much as Trader Joes and Costco, but any place that feeds me starts out with a couple of bonus points. All that being said there are some real issues that bug me about them.

To begin I want to know why they bother to set up 27 checkout stands as no matter what time/day or how busy they are I can guarantee that only five of them will be manned by a live cashier. That leaves 22 empty stands and several lines.

The problem with a line is that it leaves me with plenty of time to stand around and look for ways to entertain myself which usually translates into get in trouble. One day I’ll have to share the tale of juggling a seven pound watermelon, a small bottle of Vodka and a plum. It is quite entertaining but now is not the time nor the place.

Here is another thing about those freaking empty checkout stands that aggravates me. How many times have you been standing in line and seen this happen. A store employee ambles on over to an empty register. It looks like they are about to open it up for use. The overly optimistic part of me is always pleased to see this as I naturally assume that the store management agrees that it is considered bad form to make customers wait in line for so long that their purchases spoil prior to exiting the store.

More often than not that fantasy is spoiled. Here is the skinny on how that goes down.

Whenever I stand in line I spend a few minutes conducting surveillance. I look for the crazed crackhead who is seconds away from pulling out a sawed-off shotgun and robbing us all so that he can go score some more rocks. In my old age I may be a step slower but I still have a cannon for an arm and big hands. I can guarantee that I can grab a cantaloupe out of the cart, fling it at the crackhead and knock that gun out of his hands before he can harm anyone.

Or alternatively I can grab the gum and mints off of the counter and hurl them at him in a furious frenzy. While he is fending off a swarm of Dentyne I’ll vault over the stand and use the closest magazine to knock him out. In general I prefer People Magazine’s 50 most Beautiful People. It is a little bit heavier and whoever is on the cover is of much more use to me as a bat then eyecandy.

Sometimes I get bored with the crazed crackhead routine and I look for the crazy terrorist. There is a slight variation on the theme and a small change in how I rescue everyone and earn free groceries for a year. In the terrorist scenario I sometimes pull their kaffiyeh over their eyes and box their ears or sometimes I just show them offensive cartoons and make them go crazy.

Once I stopped a near incident by handing the guy lighter fluid and a couple of American/Israeli flags. The poor fella got so caught up in burning those that he didn’t realize I had taken his weapon.

Anyhoo, I seem to have lost my way. Time to get back to reality. And the reality is that while I am conducting surveillance I scan the registers to see if a new one is about to open because everyone knows that there is an artform to getting to that newly opened register. You can’t just walk over there. You’ll cause a stampede.

Heaven forbid that the herd notice the empty register. The trick is to quietly leave the line while muttering something about having forgotten to buy Spaghetti O’s. So you leave the line you are in and quietly mosey on to the newly opened line and then bam! They get you.

You see that newly opened register is not really open. It is a stupid trick that the store management uses to enteratain themselves. They love watching people lose their places in line. It gives them a big hearty laugh. This is also why I like to rearrange the shelves. Waste my time and watch me help you waste yours, you line shifting bastards.

All that effort to quietly move lines so that you can gain a better position and what happens. Nothing, other than you have given up your prior place so that you can start over. And just to add insult to injury you look back at the old line to see that the guy who was three places behind you is checking out.

Oh my, why did I ever move.

Did I mention my issues with the people outside the store. Have I told you about my troubles with the Girlscouts and their bleeping cookies, or the 17 clipboard carrying canaries who assault you with petitions that you must sign because if you don’t the environment will fail, children will die of drugs, oil cartels will rule the world and the poor Dodo bird may face extinction.

Perhaps I’ll save that for a different post. I have a lot more that I could write about including shopping carts. There is a shopping cart law that applies to me. It is the one that mandates that I must always pick a cart that has a bad wheel that refuses to turn and that when it does it must emit a squeak that is so loud dogs scream “Crap! that hurts that bleeping ears.!”

That is it for now, until next time.

Build Connections & Community

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Cardiff City Stadium at Dusk

Sometimes I wish that I could take you on a trip through my head. Sometimes I wish that I could transport you from wherever it is that you are reading this and drop you inside that cavernous space between my ears.

You’d sit down on the most comfortable chairs you have ever experienced and we’d share a moment in time. You’d see and feel the things that I see and feel. You’d understand me in a way that only a few will ever experience and we’d create a bond that would extend through time and space.

That my friends is an ineloquent but honest description of what my personal and business blogging philosophy is. I want to build connections with you. I want to share experiences with you. Here is where I try to create the magic and mystery that creates moments in time. Here is where I try to tug on your heart and make you cry, laugh, scream and or nod your head in agreement.

A blog is platform for telling stories and creating a method for you to step into the moments in time that I have experienced. This where I bob and weave my way through the forest of words and whisper things that I think will resonate with you.

The words and the stories come easily to me. There is a fire inside my belly that is forever burning and it drives me forward. I am compelled to create and sometimes my creations come across as more than a simple construct of letters. Sometimes you are touched by them.

Sometimes you share your stories with me and the others that frequent the places we live in cyberspace and together we create connections and build community. I know from experience that some of you are nodding your heads in agreement and others are rolling your eyes.

Some of you are pointing and clicking you way to “greener pastures” as fast as you can and I am ok with that. Even though I will cast a wide net I will not capture all of you. I cannot be all things to all people nor will I try. But I will share a number of things, thoughts and ideas.

I will share them because they offer glimpse and insight into who I am and what I am about. I’ll share them because in doing so some of you will find a friend and companion. This blog is many things and one of them is a journey through time and space.

You are invited to walk with me. I’ll ask you to join my Facebook Fan page because it is a way to stay abreast of what I am doing and because it helps me. It helps me bring new clients on board. It helps me convince them that there is a community that they want to be a part of.

From time to time I’ll talk to you about some of the companies that I work with and suggest that you learn more about them. But I’ll always disclose those relationships to you. I am compelled to write and I will do regardless of compensation but if I can earn a buck while doing this than I will do so.

And so we have reached the time and place where I share more with you. Some of this will give you more insight into me and some of the things that are important.

Here is a selection of posts that are worth reading:

Click on my About Me page and read some or all of those. Make sure to read The Lost Soul Mate, The Telephone Call, and Dreams I have Never Had. Add Comments and Community, Help Me,Five Years Later and My Application For Shola. And if that still isn’t enough you can add these to your list I Yelled at G-d, Streets of Philadelphia, One Slightly Used Pump For Sale, A Mother In The Men’s Room and Too Much Information- The Girl in the Men’s Room.

Five songs that I listened to while writing this:

Right Here, Right Now– Fatboy Slim
Promnotory– Last Of The Mohicans Soundtrack
Praan– Gary Schyman
Born in The USA– Bruce Springsteen
I’m On Fire– Bruce Springsteen

Four videos that I have watched recently:

How A Jew Finds Parking
Opie and the Bully– The Andy Griffith Show
Play It Sam– Casablanca
Hello My Name Is Inigo Montoya– The Princess Bride

I am a voracious reader and read many different authors and genres.  If you look on my bookshelves you might find Made To Stick or The Art of War. Some of my favorite authors include Demille, Tolkien, King, Martin and Gladwell.

And there my friends you have a very brief snapshot of me and some words about using connections to build community. Those of you who are intrigued and or curious are welcome to stay and join me on the journey.

So tell me a little bit about yourself. Who are you and why do you come here?

The Tipping Point

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Butterfly On Fire

This is the kind of post that I view as being little fragments of thought. Sometimes when there is so much on my mind that I feel a bit overwhelmed I break things up into chunks and try to figure out what is bothering me. Hence you have these fragments I am sharing with you. If you choose to follow you may find a string connecting them all together or alternatively you may fear getting lost in the black hole that has just opened up at your feet. Tread with caution there are no golden parachutes.

I wasn’t yet a father when I read The Tipping Point by Malcom Gladwell, at least I don’t think that I was. Truth is that I might be wrong about that. It wouldn’t be the first time nor will it be the last. People like to think that we make decisions based upon logic and reason but more often than not they are based upon arbitrary emotion/feelings that we aren’t always conscious of.

The book caught my eye because it talked about change and that is something that I wrestle with. Change is my best friend and arch nemesis. If I were a superhero change would vex me by alternately helping and hindering me. There would be moments where I would express my undying appreciation  for it and then follow up by trying to savage it so severely death would be welcome.

I followed up on The Tipping Point by reading Blink. While I can’t point to one thing in Blink that I liked better than others it really held my attention. Gladwell describes it like this:

You could also say that it’s a book about intuition, except that I don’t like that word. In fact it never appears in “Blink.” Intuition strikes me as a concept we use to describe emotional reactions, gut feelings–thoughts and impressions that don’t seem entirely rational. But I think that what goes on in that first two seconds is perfectly rational. It’s thinking–its just thinking that moves a little faster and operates a little more mysteriously than the kind of deliberate, conscious decision-making that we usually associate with “thinking.” In “Blink” I’m trying to understand those two seconds. What is going on inside our heads when we engage in rapid cognition? When are snap judgments good and when are they not? What kinds of things can we do to make our powers of rapid cognition better?

Those who know me best will tell you that it is not unusual for me to make decisions based upon my gut. While I can’t claim to have conducted a scientific study my gut feeling regarding its use as prognosticator of the future is that it is usually pretty accurate. I am usually happier when I listen to it than when I do not.

“On his right hand Billy tattooed the word love and on his left hand was the word fear
And in which hand he held his fate was never clear”
Cautious Man- Bruce Springsteen

My son and I have had many discussions about life and how we make decisions. I have told him that there are no guarantees nor promises that life will go as we plan. I told him that we do our best to take control of what we can and then roll with the punches. I believe all that to be true but I haven’t told him that I often wonder if some of my decisions matter or not. There are times where I feel like it doesn’t matter what I do because I am going to end up in the same place.

You can label that as the free will discussion. I have been told by some that there are limitations to free will and that some things will happen regardless of what we do.  I can’t say that I buy that argument or that everything happens for a reason. You won’t convince me that there is a reason for murder or for terminal illnesses to take children. Don’t tell me that I don’t understand G-d’s plan because unless G-d offers a personal explanation I won’t listen.

But I will admit that sometimes there are strange coincidences and weird experiences that don’t make sense. There is a lot more to say on this but not a whole lot of time right now. What do you think?

The Guest Post That Was Too Provocative To Run

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Whiny face

Dear XYZ Website,

I have a guest post for your consideration. It has now been rejected 1,298 times. I have been told it is too sad, too funny, too weird and too ordinary. Three out of the five editors at one place told me to go find a new house to haunt. I don’t really know what that means, but it doesn’t sound good to me. Halloween is almost a full year away.

Anyway, since I have a fragile male ego this criticism made me hide under my desk. Fortunately I was able to take the laptop with me and send out this note in the hope that you’ll accept this piece and then I’ll be able to come out from under the desk.That would be good because it is really crowded down here and my kids miss me.

The post is beneath the plus signs, that is unless you consider yourself to be a part of the Tea Party. If you are part of the Tea Party those are crosses that I put into the post to prove that I am a patriotic American who can sing every Lee Greenwood song that contains God Bless the USA in it.

Thanks,

Jack

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

I am not the cool guy and in spite of rumors to the contrary have never been him. That doesn’t mean that I never wanted to be him, because the truth is that I did. At least I used to want to be him.

I suppose that you can blame it upon the mean girl that I shared a classroom with in junior high school. If I had to assign responsibility to someone for helping to educate me about my lack of cool it would be her. I didn’t care about Guess, Jordache or Calvin Klein.

Polo, Lacrosse and K-Swiss were names that I knew but didn’t assign any sort of value to. At least I didn’t until she started in on me. I had thought that it was cool to pull my tube socks up as far as they could go. It was what we did, the boys and I.

That laughter and the taunting changed my mind. It fought not to let it show and for the most part I did a good job of not exposing how she and her friends had wounded me. I remember feeling confused and angry about it all.

New rules, that is what they were to me. New rules about how I was supposed to act and dress. Can’t say that I remember telling my parents about what was happening. It was too embarrassing to share so I opted to ask for money to buy the right clothes. Dad looked at me and said he was sorry but they were too much.

I asked again and he told me that brands didn’t make a person and that I shouldn’t rely upon clothes to make me feel good about myself. It was good advice, but hard to hear. Not long after that conversation one of the male friends of the mean girl decided that it was his turn to take a swipe at me.

That was better because I knew how to deal with a boy who messed with me. I used my nondescript sneaker to help adjust his attitude towards me. Who knew that aiming low could be so effective.

I’d like to say that this had some sort of “John Hughes” movie ending. I’d like to say that I figured out how to become the cool guy and ended up with a really cool girl but that would be a lie.

There was no metamorphosis into the cool guy, although I tried. In my head I saw myself turning into an 80s version of Rick, the character that Bogart played in Casablanca. Or if not him, some version of Clint Eastwood playing Dirty Harry. You know, the guy with the steely eyed glare that you knew not to mess with.

Instead I think that ended up being more like George Costanza. Although in fairness to my family we didn’t celebrate Festivus. There were no feats of strength of airing of grievances to deal with.

And now I kind of like being more like George than Rick. It is more fun and a little easier to be the wacky, kind of off center type of guy. But than again, back in the day being more like Rick would have made it a hell of lot easier to get laid.

I know one thing for certain. If I was Rick, Casablanca would have had a much different ending. Old Rick would have shot the Nazi, gotten the girl and headed off into the sunset for one hell of a life.

On the other hand maybe being like George is better. Rick is used to getting the girl and George isn’t. So by not getting the girl Rick ends up devastated while George just goes about his life because it is business as usual.

Maybe I should just shut up and go by myself a pair of Calvin Klein jeans, a Polo shirt and some K-Swiss shoes because that would make me so much cooler.