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 May 2013

How To Make Friends and Influence People

by 13 Comments

It is considered bad form to suggest that you can help the socially inept by incorporating throat punch and Mule Kick Monday where we help you rid yourself of the people whose sole purpose in life is to irritate you.

Hell, I don’t doubt there are at least three people in this vast world of ours who would like to improve their day with a preemptive strike which is exactly why I went around today doing my impression of Bruce Lee.

Yeah old Jack showed his fists of fury off in a big way. You should have seen the looks on those who were enlightened by the boots of burden.

It Is Fiction

Confession: that was fiction, I didn’t unleash my fists of fury or boots of burden. Hell, I own two pairs of boots, a pair of Black Justins and some nice Timberlands but neither were used to strike anyone.

Ladies, did you appreciate my sharing information about my boots? Was it wrong of me to ask?

I am not really asking nor am I serious. Right now I am just writing for the sake of writing. I am writing because there I didn’t get to hang out with the wolfpack tonight and the demon inside demands my attention.

I am writing because I am turning 44 years-old in a couple of days and I am trying to figure out how it all works. I feel like I am 25. I don’t quite look like I am 25, but I feel like it.

Is it just me or does 44 sound old?

Hell, if memory serves Satchel Paige was still pitching at 44 and so was Jamie Moyer. I think Rickey Henderson was still playing pro ball too.

What Is The Difference Between Us?

Well let’s see, Rickey and Satchel were/are Black and I am not. Jamie was a pitcher and I am not. All three of them had enough talent to make the big leagues and apparently I didn’t, er don’t. But maybe I do.

I never did get a try out and if you miss every shot you don’t take well then I missed because I didn’t try out, not because I didn’t make the team.

That gives me an idea, someone get Kobe on the phone, I can still play for the Lakers. Hell, someone tell Kobe I challenge him to a game of one-on-one with the stipulation that he plays me now while he is on crutches.

I May Be Older, But I Am Not Stupid

Sometimes it is better to be the crafty old veteran than the young rookie. You have to work on being clever and use a few tricks here and there. Speaking of tricks let’s see if this one works.

I am going to mention Triberr because 9 times out ten Dino Dogan magically appears and leaves a comment. So let’s mention Triberr and see if he shows up here. Hell, let’s get ready to write another post about Triberr and then guarantee that Dino will grace us with his presence.

In the interim I am going to review what we learned here:

It would make some people feel better if we could create  throat punch and Mule Kick Monday. It would undoubtedly have many fans as well as many detractors and we might find out if the old adage about bad PR being good PR is correct.

We might also get arrested and be thrown in a cell with Bubba the drunk degenerate who fought Bad Bad Leroy Brown, the baddest man in the whole damn town.

Now I reckon some people might have a problem with me talking about Bubba the drunk degenerate. You might not prefer me to call him Bubba the buggerer either which means that clearly you are in favor of stealing all of our guns so that radical Islamist terrorists can declare Jihad on us and murder us indiscriminately.

Of course if you were patriots you wouldn’t mind my talking about Bubba the drunk degenerate who fought Bad Bad Leroy Brown, the baddest man in the whole damn town.

How To Make Friends and Influence People

In fact you patriots would be pleased to know that I didn’t make it into pro ball and that  after I created throat punch and Mule Kick Monday and was thrown into jail I met Bubba the drunk degenerate who fought Bad Bad Leroy Brown, the baddest man in the whole damn town.

Why?

Because I would beat Bubba the drunk degenerate who fought Bad Bad Leroy Brown, the baddest man in the whole damn town to a pulp saving you from the beating you would have surely received when he sobered up, was released on his own recognizance and took to wandering the streets again.

And that my friends is how you make friends and influence people. Some of you might call it Tea Party Logic, but me, I call it common sense.

Give Me An Example Of A Rant

by 6 Comments

King of Clouds

Editor’s Note: This is post is seven years old. I see it as more proof that the more things change online the more they stay the same.

In a galaxy far, far away from this one I have been engaged in a pissing contest with a number of different people. We have gone back and forth about this and that and more than likely haven’t managed to convince anyone of anything.

My position on the initial matter remains unchanged and I suspect that those that have read some of my comments feel the same way. Some of the banter has been especially colorful and I received a note from someone who claims to be familiar with my blog but was shocked by a comment that I left.

I am not a shy guy, well I am, but that is a different sort of shy. But I thought that I’d share the silly and juvenile remark that they found so shocking right here. If you are easily offended than go and grab a shot of whiskey and then come back. Or skip the next block quote because there is going to be more posted here.

XX,

If you pulled that hot poker out of your oversized ass and dropped the remote control from that fat cheeto covered paw of yours you might actually have a chance of making a point.

But that is about as likely as your ignoring the siren song of stale store bought donuts you left on the kitchen counter you pathetic maggot.

I guess when you father crapped you out he managed to rid himself of some genetic waste.

Go rub some salt up your ass and suck on a rock. And for what it is worth it is considered bad form to rely on Google for insults you silly bastard.

As they say, eat shit and live. And to all my other fans, go fuck yourselves with the nearest kitchen utensil you can find. You are in dire need of a serious orgasm.

Hugs and kisses from someone who doesn’t understand satire.

-Jack

And there you have an example of the finer part of the blogosphere. It is the seamy underside that is filled with nasty comments and bitter remarks that more than likely would not be shared in person because most people are just unwilling to really say things like this outloud.

I on the other hand don’t always take life so seriously and am more than happy to swear like a sailor. Although I should give credit to one of my grandfathers for showing me that there are people who can swear for 17 minutes straight without taking a breath and more importantly without repeating themselves. I suppose that between his time in the army and time as a carnie he picked up a few things.

The Day Social Media Died

by 10 Comments

How many stars are there in the sky?
How many stars are there in the sky?

I refuse to cater to the instant gratification society. I refuse to agree to only write posts that are 350-500 words long because people might not read them.

I refuse to not have fun with headlines. If there is a need to blog about how sex is a cure for writer’s block I am going to do it because if I do these things that really will be the day social media died.

When people ask me how I manage to find things to write about I often answer with the question of “How Many Stars Are There In The Sky?” It is not just because I am insouciant and have a puckish nature. It is because I am curious about a million different things.

That curiosity leads me to ask questions and find out where people and things come from. Combine that with my love for writing and I can’t help but sit at the keyboard knocking out these posts.

It is what leads me to write stories about people and to share tales from my life.

Writer’s Block Is a Myth

They didn’t believe the day would come when Jack, captain of the mighty sailing ship “TheJackB” would succumb to writer’s block. It seemed virtually impossible that such a day would come.

It wasn’t just because he said it never happened but because they had never seen it happen. That crazy man could produce content at a ridiculous pace that made people wonder what the hell was going on with him.

Some whispered that he had made a deal with the devil and that in return for his soul he was granted immunity from the curse of the empty page. Others suggested that it wasn’t that at all. They said that Jack had gained the ire and enmity of a gypsy. They said the gypsy had laid multiple curses down upon him and that was why he was so restless.

They said that he ran four other blogs besides his main one and that he almost never slept. They said that some times people would find him passed out, face down upon his keyboard.

Some of those who claimed to know him best said that none of those things were true. They said many years before he had been the Dread Pirate Roberts and that he had sailed around the world.

Writer’s Block

Writer’s Block is a myth. It is not real. It is a little voice inside your head that says your words are ill-formed, illogical and inconceivable. Sorry, had to get another Princess Bride reference in there.

I don’t know that I always believed it was a myth but I can’t say I believed it was any more real than the monster under my bed. I suppose some of that comes from having a very active imagination and some of it comes from discipline and training.

What that means is I have taught myself to write when I don’t feel like writing and to ask questions about ordinary things.

It means that I wonder about why a desk made by a company in Scandinavia is called Borkenduffer and why said Borkenduffer comes with 983 parts. I look at the parts and ask about where they came from.

Did said Scandinavian company manufacture them all or did they have to buy some from some other place. Maybe the Snorkendiesel Screwdriver factory produced the Skivvy Sneezen for Mr. Flugenkooper because he didn’t have a machine shop that could do it.

Or maybe said Scandinavian company buys from China or Taiwan and then puts its own stamp on it.

Ordinary People Living Extraordinary Lives

People are endlessly fascinating. Sometimes we forget that what seems ordinary to us is sometimes extraordinary to others.

There have been times where I have been the only Jewish guy in the office and I have been asked questions that threw me. It wasn’t because they were particularly hard to answer, it was because these people hadn’t met any other Jews and I became the “ambassador.”

Questions about how I dress, the foods I eat and the holidays I celebrate were a big deal to them. To me it was pretty simple. I put on socks, underpants, shirt, pants and shoes and go out.

Except when I put my pants on I do it two legs at a time.

See what happens when you are exceptionally athletic. Woohoo.

But seriously, sometimes the best stories we have to tell are the ones that seem the most mundane to us.

Stories About People Drive Social Media

Write about your first kiss, first day of school, first day on the job, first time having sex, first time driving and you will find more than a few people are interested in it.

This wild and woolly blogosphere puts us in contact with so many different kinds of people. It is amazing.

I know for a fact that my readers include Submarine captain(s), Tank commander(s), doctors, lawyers, Software Engineers, Olympic athlete(s), teachers, engineers, students, writers and retired folks.

Surely among that crowd there are going to be people who can relate to what I share and or have amazing stories of their own to offer too.

Got to run now, going to interview a few people. Back later.

The End Of A Life

by 6 Comments

Lesko, Bieszczady, Poland

We Were Soldiers Soundtrack with Lyrics

Mansions of The Lord

There was blood in the toilet accompanied by a significant pain in my belly. It wasn’t the first time the blood had been there but it was the first time the pain was severe enough to concern me.

I cleaned myself up and wandered to the couch.

For a few moments I struggled to find a position that was comfortable and wondered if this was something to be genuinely worried.  I propped my head up with a pillow and closed my eyes and slowed my breathing down.

And then I wondered about whether it was time to call the doctor or not.

Medical History

Years of GI distress had made it harder to discern when to be concerned about it being serious and when it was just one of those days.

I tried to figure out what I had eaten. Dairy could do me in and so could a number of other things, like spinach or sesame seeds. Maybe I had eaten something, one of those things. Maybe it was nothing more than the joy of a dysfunctional digestive system.

But I couldn’t think of anything.

Dysfunctional or not the overall status of my digestive system seemed to have improved. There were occasional problems but I could almost always attribute it to food or stress.

What Happens If Something Is Really Wrong With Me?

This time was different in more than a few ways. This time was different because it was the first time I wondered if maybe there was a terminal illness attached to this. I had never considered that before. It was always just an irritation, a thing that sometimes made me change or adjust plans, but never life threatening.

Can’t say for certain what made me start thinking about this but I did. I remembered a story someone I knew had told me about his bout with Colon Cancer. I remembered bits and pieces, just enough for my mind to make the leap to maybe this is similar.

Enough for me to start wondering what happens if I have something serious and I need to really fight to live. What happens if I have to prepare to say goodbye.

What do I do then.

How Do I Want To Live and How Do I Want To Die?

Nature called and I ran back to the bathroom. I didn’t have to look, I knew that there was going to be some blood again. I knew and I remembered hearing that Elvis died on the toilet.

That was something I really didn’t want. Not because of a lack of dignity but because I didn’t want people to remember me that way. I didn’t want the last thing my family saw to be the dead man on the toilet, assuming I didn’t fall off.

Time passed and I staggered to the bedroom and flopped on the bed.

The question of what I wanted to do kept tugging at me.

I didn’t know if I was seriously ill and I did my best not to jump to conclusions. But the truth was I was still in a lot of pain and couldn’t remember it ever feeling like that.

And that is when I started thinking about how I wanted to live. I had always said that when I die I want to die knowing I had done all that I could to live a life of joy and happiness.

I wanted to go knowing that I had made a difference and that I had helped make the world a better place.

But I wanted to make sure I had done some other things, experienced things I hadn’t ever done before. I decided that it would be ok to be selfish and selfless.

What If

I try not to live a life of “what if” this and “what if that.”

But I am a writer with a graphic imagination and I see/hear stories wherever I go.

And it was hard not to look back and think of friends who have died. There have been enough to make me wonder about how it all works.  I helped shovel dirt onto their caskets and was a mourner and witness to other mourners.

What if things were cut short. Would I have done enough. Would I have lived enough.

The story/movie of my children’s lives will end after I am gone. I won’t be there to see it all. That is normal. That is natural.

But what about the others? What about those who mean most to me outside of family?

Will I have made it clear to them how important they are? Will they know how much I loved and appreciated them or will these things merely be things a man once thought about and never shared.

Sometimes you think about these questions on your own and sometimes you forget only to be reminded later on.

What Father’s Do- A Real Social Media Post

by 15 Comments

His Royal Highness King Zawadi Mungu

The smarter business and social media bloggers will take a moment to read this so they can figure out if this really is a social media post or if I am just trying to link bait them into reading.

If I wanted to go I could fill the beginning of this post with all sorts of nifty tricks and tips. We could talk about the importance of managing expectations, determining what metrics you need to hit to be successful and what kinds of tools improve your productivity.

Don’t worry, I won’t leave you hanging. Carolyn has a great list of Chrome Extensions and Shonali has a list of 20 tools you can use to improve your productivity. And just for kicks I’ll toss in Two Things That Are Killing Twitter.

And Now For Something Different

I Will Wait- Mumford and Sons
Ghost Riders In The Sky- Johnny Cash
Boogie Chillun- John Lee Hooker
Burn- The Cure
Layla- Derek & The Dominos

Those are the last five songs I listened to before I started writing this section. Music and lyrics moving through my mind as I think about the question of what fathers do.

I missed Career Day at my son’s middle school. Missed it because I am 1,500 miles away and I couldn’t get back for it. Missed it and a bunch of other things that are important to him and his little sister.

Those things are important to me too because they are important to the kids and my kids are important to me.

But I am here because there was a career opportunity that was too good to pass up and it didn’t make sense to make them move during the school year. I am here because this is what fathers do, we provide for our families and when you find a better way you have to consider it.

Smart Isn’t Always Easy

The smart move isn’t always easy and you can’t always predict what the right thing to do is. Sometimes you have to just go for it and figure it out as you go along.

So I picked up and moved to a place where I didn’t know anyone because I believed it would create a foundation for a better life for my family. I used Twitter to find people who lived in the city and asked for advice and suggestions about places to live and Twitter came through.

I went on Facebook and learned that a Facebook friend lived here two years ago. He connected me with people and suddenly I had people to hang out with and places to go for a home cooked meal.

The kids and I have Skyped and used Google Hangouts to say hi and to do homework.

I have listened to them tell me about their day and heard them beg not to make them move.

The More Things Change, The More They Stay The Same

Haven’t lived in an apartment in a million years, but here I am again. Turned on Eclipse off of Dark Side of The Moon and remembered being in my early twenties.

Lay down in the middle of my living room and remembered the last time.

It was me and a few of the boys, we were drunk and lost in the lyrics and a discussion about what it meant. Back then no one was married and no one was called dad. Life was nothing but infinite possibilities.

This time I was sober and irritated because the neighbors were playing their music too loud.  Some of us have to work in the morning. This time I wondered where this would lead me, I still saw possibility but instead of infinite it was just many.

Still good, but a bit more limited because I don’t do things without thinking about those little people who call me dad.

A Real Social Media Post

What makes this a real social media post isn’t the knowledge that people in Triberr will tweet, stumble and G+ it. Nor is it because of the links to Twitter news, browser extensions or productivity tools.

Social media is about people and most of you who read this are parents. And those of you who aren’t still understand what it means to move to places you have never been for opportunities you hope will pan out.

So I shared a story and some thoughts and perhaps you’ll do so in the comments and then we can say we had real engagement and another social media success story will come to life.