Archives for July 2013

Why Blogging Might Die Next Week

The Consequences of insulting my writing.

The Consequences of insulting my writing.

“Your blog makes me want to defecate in a bag” has got to be the strangest comment I have ever received.  How do you respond to that? Is it an insult or a compliment?

I admit to momentarily being stumped which is why I tried to figure out if he was referring to a post called, A Little Digestive Distress- Chicken Vindaloo but even I couldn’t figure out how it related.

So I sent him a response encouraging he/she to follow through and then to be certain to place their head inside the bag afterward.

Was that rude?

The Blogging Apocalypse

Is this a sign of the blogging apocalypse? Have we reached a point in time in which civility has completely disappeared online and scatological humor is verboten.

Should I have asked them to record their movement on Vine so that I could post it and call that proof of their being a social media expert.

Summer is an odd time in the blogosphere. It is the moment when commenting slows down dramatically and traffic dies down. Many bloggers have remarked upon the drop in comments and wondered about it.

Some say it is because there are too many distractions and that people are busy using other platforms or talk about How Some People Are Using Triberr To Kill Blogging.

But not me, I still say it is time of year and that blogging is alive and well, at least I did until I received that comment.

Worse Than Death Threats

Maybe it is the combination of a good cigar, a margarita and Scotch, but that comment was worse than the death threats I received and the promises to have my kids removed.

BTW, no exaggeration on either one of those. Try blogging about politics and religion and the crazies show up who I might add hate my freedom and that I believe in circumcision and am a Zionist.

Yeah, I just antagonized a few by putting that last line in but if they don’t like it they can defecate in a bag and wear it on their heads too.

Seriously, I am gobsmacked by the comment and am probably spending too much time wondering what to make of it. Not sure why I even care, but I do.

Where Do We Go From Here

Where do we go from here? Do I write about how I think we should say Happy Holidays and that there is no War on Christmas. Should I talk about how to monetize a blog or how I can’t decide which of my posts are my favorites.

Maybe I should tell the new readers that I had my filter surgically removed and that I am an insouciant dad blogger who enjoys defenestrating people who aggravate me.

Or maybe you should know that anything categorized or described as narishkeit is nonsense.

I blog at the speed of me and do so because I love to write and you can’t become a better writer without practicing.

Things That Worry Me

I am not concerned about the zombie apocalypse but am aggravated that Hollywood keeps remaking the same movies. Hell, they can hire me to write a script and if they don’t like what I write they can defecate in a bag and then wear it.

BTW, I can assure you that my biggest fan, the Shmata Queen is laughing while she reads this and will do so even when I insult her beloved cleveland, home of the burning river and sports teams that cannot win.

But it is not as bad as Detroit which isn’t saying much.

All I know is that if I set foot in either city the general populace might riot or defecate in a bag and wear it on their heads.

Course it doesn’t take much to start a riot in Detroit, just a match and an abandoned building.

But what really worries me is the stamp on the bag of chocolate covered pretzels I bought at Target today. It says best by January 9, 2014.

WTF did I just eat?

Am I going to wake up and find out my insides have been embalmed.

Blogging Isn’t Going To Die

Blogging isn’t going to die any time soon, if ever. Hell if I have to keep the medium alive myself I can and will do so.

I need a place to share my stories, the sad, the silly and the sublime.

So have no fear my friends, sometimes we take this and life too seriously. And if you don’t like that, well you know what you can do.

Happy 4th of July to you all.

I Beat Up Santa Claus & Cooked The Easter Bunny For Supper

Mommy ... I'm bored!

Don’t expect that headline to tell you what this post is going to be about or to be able to use it as a guide because it is not going to work this time.

Of course I could tell you about the time I beat up Santa Claus or how I once I had a fight with Tweedle Dee at Disneyland. You might read those tales and wonder if I am just a short tempered old cus or if I am just someone who enjoys to spin a good yarn.

But neither of them will give you anymore insight into this post than the following sentence.

Sometimes I write for the love of writing and nothing else. And because that love doesn’t require I connect headline and story I may choose to make like Mr. Toad and go for a wild ride.

Of Bad Bosses

The boys and I had a conversation about bad bosses during which we compiled the kind of list you don’t want to appear on. You don’t want to be known as the scatterbrained jerk who was afraid to admit he didn’t know what was going on.

Maybe it was insecurity and fear that prevented him from telling the staff he didn’t have a clue what was happening or maybe he was more oblivious than people realized. It really doesn’t matter because ultimately he made the list for having the gift of confusion.

More times than not you left a meeting more feeling more uncertain and confused about projects than when you started.

The screamer made the list too.

Yeah, he was the guy who had watched too many sitcoms or maybe had sat through too many episodes of The Godfather and consequently thought that the way to lead was to yell at people. I don’t know if there are offices in which this works, but the net result was high turnover and a lot of tuning out.

The third member of the team was manager whose idea of a good idea was limited to whatever he suggested. Anything you said or did was fair at best and there was a virtual guarantee he would insert himself into your work.

It was only supposed to help you, but it really was a manifestation of ego and insecurity. He never trusted anyone to be as smart as him which is why he had to help.

We wanted to thank him for showing us that one person could have an impact upon morale that was far more profound than any one could have ever guessed.

Holiday Week(end)

Those of who are located in the U.S are getting ready to celebrate Independence Day. It is a fun holiday filled with fireworks and food.

Got to confess, I am not a big fan of fireworks anymore. Used to love them as a kid but the noise grinds on me and it makes dogs go crazy so once I have had a chance to see the big show I am done with it.

Love the food on the holiday, great time for barbecue and beer, both of which I enjoy.

Did I mention that I decided that 44 is the year I am going to make the big push to get into better shape and that lack of sleep is considered to be a key reason why some people have trouble losing weight and why some gain it.

Well if I didn’t consider that your notice and warning that I am getting ready to wrap this up because I can’t keep living on three hours of sleep.

I suppose you can attribute some of that to my thinking I am still 25 and some of it to my needing more than a couple of hours to decompress after work.

A Four Day Vacation

Tomorrow is my Friday, yep, I am taking a four day vacation. Quite excited about it too, but instead of going somewhere I expect to stay close to home.

Got some movies to watch, a pool to lay out at and more blogging to do.

Don’t know about you, but I haven’t written enough lately and it is starting to grind on me. Writing is part of my sanity and when I don’t do enough of it I start to feel the edges fray a bit.

And you don’t want frayed Jack because that is when I would decide to eat The Easter Bunny, I bet he tastes like chicken. 😉

Are you celebrating the holiday? Are you going on vacation? If you are Canadian what did you do for Canda Day. you hosers? 😉 Where are Bob and Doug Mackenzie when you need them anyway.

The comments are yours, would love to hear from you about almost anything.

New Experiences Are Good For Writers

Suicide Is Painless

M*A*S*H Set in Malibu Creek State Park

Suicide is painless, I am referring to the theme from MAS*H and not the act itself.

About 40 years ago that theme always served notice that my bedtime had arrived. The sound of the guitar and helicopter in the beginning meant that adult time had arrived and it was time for my sisters and I to lie down and close our eyes.

Sometimes I would try to hide behind the couch or in the hallway so I could watch the opening. I thought it was cool to see the helicopters come over the mountains and to watch the people running to greet them.

And sometimes my middle sister would sneak out of her room to come stand next to me. I remember looking at her and telling her to be quiet so we wouldn’t get caught.

Go To Bed!

Sometimes the ‘rents would walk over and escort us back to bed and sometimes we would hear my father growl, “GO TO BED.”

That didn’t happen often but when it did it fell on the nights he worked a second job. I never appreciated what that meant or how hard it must have been.

Never thought about what it was like to leave the house at 7 AM to drive 25 miles, work all day and then go teach night school for another three hours so that you could drive home from a university that was further away than your “main office” so that you could arrive home around 10 PM or so.

Sometimes when I think about it I feel like calling home and apologizing for having been a pain-in-the-ass or perceived as ungrateful.

You can’t screw an old head on young shoulders but after having been a parent for more than a few years you learn to appreciate your parents in ways you didn’t before.

You Think You Understand But You Really Don’t

Had a minor disagreement with someone at an old office of mine. I had more than a decade of life experience on him and tried hard not to remind him about it.

I wanted to just work and do what we had to do but it bothered him enough that his insecurity would find ways into our conversations. He never missed an opportunity to try to tell me about how I made a mistake on a project and what he would have done.

Most of the time the mistakes he referred to weren’t things that you could easily quantify as being right or wrong, they were simply done differently than he would have liked.

Time passed and my tolerance for his remarks waned and one day I replied to a comment he made about his dogs being his kids with a very harsh, “you don’t know a fucking thing about being a parent.”

It wasn’t well received and we went back and forth for a few until I told him that I wasn’t interested in watching him wave his dick and a a tape measure around any more.

He asked what that meant and I told him that I wished one of those helicopters from MAS*H would magically appear and fly him away because he didn’t understand what he was saying or doing and I was tired of fighting about narishkeit.

“Things aren’t automatically wrong because they aren’t done your way and maybe one day you’ll grow up.”

What About You Dad?

I didn’t take notes or carry a camcorder so that story might be more or less colorful than reality. Time and my personal filter might have colored it so that I don’t remember it as it happened, but I don’t think about that.

Instead I find myself thinking about my father and wondering about his work life. His profession was different than mine, there was no family business for us to link up in but some things are the same.

We both worked for many years as the sole provider for our families and did the kinds of things that fathers do to see that everyone is fed, clothed and sheltered.

But even though our careers may not have been the same the one thing I know for certain is that we both had to interact with people so some of our experiences have to sync up.

And I wonder about who he didn’t like and how he dealt with the pain-in-the-ass that we all work with. He wasn’t one to complain about these things so even though I am sure he dealt with them they aren’t something I associate with him or childhood.

My Children

And now I sit here wondering if my own children will think about me in similar terms. Will they see me as always having worked hard for the family or will they see a different guy.

Will they view me as being whiny and a complainer or a man who did what he had to do because whining didn’t change anything.

I wonder.