"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
Spent some time thinking and writing about my own Simba and was given the gift to share those thought at my friend Larry’s blog.
If you want some insight on some of the thoughts I have regarding parenting a kid on the verge of high school you should click on this.
Really, go visit Larry and take some time to click around because there is some good stuff there.
Someone once asked me what I wanted to be known for and I said when people see me I want them to say, “He Is The Godfather Of Dad Blogging.”
Almost half of that sentence is false, I never said anything about what I wanted to be known for. I just said I want people to say  “He Is The Godfather Of Dad Blogging.”
Confession: I never said any of those things, at least I don’t think I have. Truth is I have ten thousand posts and sometimes I wonder if I just think I didn’t say it. Maybe I did or maybe I blogged about it.
So just in case I did I am covering myself by saying maybe I did. Either way I figure if I keep saying it there is a chance that my blog will rank for  “He Is The Godfather Of Dad Blogging.”
Not sure that is good for anything or that it has any significance but who knows.
I was playing around with what to blog about and thought about running a post about whether your blog needs a logo again. It is a few years old now but the information in it is still solid.
Decided against running it because tomorrow is Friday and I think it will generate more traffic on a different day. However I decided to include a clip from it here anyway because it is useful.
Social media is about people. Some of you will love me. Some of you will hate me. Some of you will be ambivalent. But if I show up on a regular basis and engage in normal conversation with you good things will come from that. And if I do that for an extended period of time more good things will come from that.
Remember the pyramids weren’t built in a day but many were built by my people which reminds me that I am going to submit an invoice to Egypt. Those hieroglyphic painting, slave owning, pyramid building yahoos owe me a chunk of change plus interest.
Wonder if they’ll give me ownership of the Sphinx.
Social media has aggravated me or should I say the behavior of people using social media has been aggravating me again. For the past few years or so there has been this consistent buzz about how to use social media to make a buck and something about it just chaps my hide.
It shouldn’t.
I shouldn’t be irritated or bothered by people who want to use their blogs to try and earn a few bucks but I am. I think some of it is because I see so many people selling snake oil.
They will not come if you write it. This isn’t the Field of Dreams and you aren’t going to run into the blogger version of Shoeless Joe out here, at least most of us won’t,
Some will. Â Some of us will catch lightning in a bottle and we’ll get book deals, sponsorships and other crap that counts as real money.
Maybe I am just jealous.
Maybe I wish some wealthy patron of the arts would sponsor me to write. Wouldn’t that be the answer to a dream some man/woman/organization would give me a million dollars a year to do what I love to do on a grander scale.
Flip through the pages and you’ll see my wish/advice to my children is to live their dreams and not dream their lives away.
I got lost partway into my life and wandered into professions outside of writing. I did well with them but they never were as fun or fulfilling as writing.
This sort of stream of consciousness is what I love to do and if I had the wherewithal I would do it on a larger, grander scale. There would be more time devoted to learning other pieces of the craft.
More work done on the multimedia side learning how to use other tools to tell a story. It would enable me to add layers to the grand tapestries I wish to weave.
Ask me what I want to do and I’ll speak with you about dedicated writing spaces that are different from what I have now. Mountain and beach hideaways would be nice as would a place with stuffed chairs, shelves packed with books and a pocket doors that close off my study.
Perhaps a castle with secret passageways and suits of armor too.
A true Godfather of Dadblogging would have a better plan for making those things happen than I.
Mine is based  upon winning the lottery, inheriting lots of money or working hard.
Working hard is the solution that I have the most control over but it doesn’t necessarily translate into earning the cash that I want or require.
I haven’t given up because the game isn’t over yet. When people ask how did you become who you are they may one day address me as Don Steiner, Godfather Of Dad Blogging.
They may ask me for a favor and I will nod my head in agreement. I’ll stand up and place one arm around their shoulder and offer friendship and them that one day I may call upon them for a favor. It might not ever happen, but should that day come I rest confident that they will do what I ask without questions.
Who knows, stranger things have happened.
“Do you know there is a big hole in the shirt you are wearing?”
I nodded and smiled, “Sure there is. Every time I flex the guns that happens. Know why the Hulk is green? Because he is green with envy.”
“Dad, you are weird.”
I smiled and told her that she is extra smart because she is related to me and tried to explain how I am going to stop time so she stays 10 for a while and she laughed.
Don’t tell my daughter but before I stop time I am going to invent a time machine and go back to 1988. Â Got a few things to do while I am there and that is going to include a stop in Bloomington. Won’t give you all of the details about why but suffice it to say I am going to set the stage for a few events to come.
Take a walk with me and maybe I’ll fill you in on some of the other details.
Look, I just stole borrowed the Buzzfeed formula for writing headlines and now my traffic is going to explode. Woohoo.
It is going to be filled with bloggers who want to know about the 69 other bloggers who are doing a better job of blogging than they are.
Some of you will be new visitors, wonder if you will laugh, chuckle or giggle at what you find here or if you will be irritated to discover you are not named on the list.
I could tell you that I used you in  Things Bloggers Say During Sex but I didn’t. Probably won’t find yourself included in Who Blogs About Laundry either.
You might find some useful information in The Reason Your Blog Is A Failure or some of the other links here. I may be the insouciant dad blogger who is trying to figure out ten years could pass so quickly but I am more than that too.
Today  I am the guy who is sifting through old posts trying to clean up bad links, insert pictures and optimize them for SEO. It is not particularly interesting to me but if you want to get ahead you have to do the work.
It reminds me of a conversation I had with my grandfathers years when I was around twenty or so. We sat in the front yard of my parents’ house and while they smoked their cigars I listened to them debate the best places to get a hot dog in Chicago in the ’30s and stories about jobs they had.
There more than a few life lessons in that conversation. I don’t know if they intended to try and teach me anything or if they were just sharing a moment but I learned from them.
They talked about the importance of really listening to your customers so that you could give them what they needed and be more than just one more salesmen at the door.
I learned about the importance of being aware of time limits and sometimes you can’t fix what is broken. I learned about being flexible, resourceful and to not take life so damn seriously.
I suppose I could come up with another 69 posts to include here. I certainly could find a way to include ’69’ in the headline but today I am going to listen to another piece of advice my grandfathers shared with me.
Today I am going to enjoy a nap and a walk in the sunshine. Sometimes the best way to get what you want is walk away from it for a moment or two and do something different.
Get the blood pumping and give your brain something different to focus upon. Things work out for those who make things work out and part of that is learning when to work and when to work out.
See you in the comments.
Midnight approaches and I who am never at a loss for words is struggling to find the right ones. The ones that help me tell the story in a way that will help you understand.
You are going to turn ten tomorrow and if history has proven anything you’ll round home plate and keep running full speed towards the future because you have much to do and see and you are desperate to be older.
You don’t understand why I tell you to enjoy whatever age you are and how I entreat you to be little for just a while longer. You tell me not to worry and say that you will always be my girl and then with that devilish grin you add, “until I find a boyfriend.”
I understand more than you know because even though I am a boy I am the one that watched you enter the world. I am the one that remembers your grandfather’s triple bypass two days before you were born. I am the one who asked your mother to keep her legs crossed during grandpa’s surgery because I couldn’t figure out where to focus.
You were upset the first time you heard that story but when mom told you I wasn’t serious you relaxed. Grandpa taught me well, had you decided to show up two days before you did I would have been there and checked in on grandpa later.
Sometimes I think you wanted to make a grand entrance and that is why you took your time but I don’t care because you were worth the wait.
Every year I try to write a post for your birthday. Every year I go through this struggle to come up with the right words about dads and daughters.
The point and the purpose is to give you a sense of who you are/were at each age and to give you a sense of what I thought and every year I feel frustrated because I haven’t done the job you deserve.
You can’t remember the look on my face when the nurse put you in the giant Pyrex dish and your little hand wrapped itself around my index finger. You don’t remember how I introduced myself to you as your daddy and promised to take care of you forever.
I remember walking your brother into the room and introducing you two. I told him that night he had to help me take care of you, that he would have to be your friend and sometimes protect you.
When I told you about that you rolled your eyes at me and said you could take him and I know you believe that.
You are my daughter in so many ways. Every time I watch you swim or play soccer I see this force of nature and I just smile.
People talk about how intense you can be when you go after the ball and I smile because that is me too. Yet there is so much of you that is just you too and I love that.
That first night when you held my finger I asked you if you would take your time growing up. You were this tiny little person with a mop of black hair.
I don’t know if you have noticed but as more of my black hair has left my head more has shown up on yours. Coincidence? I think not.
Thirty-five used to sound so very old to me. I don’t know why, but it did and when you were born I was worried about being an old father.
I wanted to be around to run with you and to play games. I didn’t want to be the dad that couldn’t do those things with his kids.
You won’t let me pick you up and dance to the Godfather Theme anymore. You told me you don’t like the music and that you are too big.
I didn’t fight you about it but I didn’t like it because time is moving too quickly. It won’t be long before you really are too big for that.
Doesn’t mean you can’t dance with your father but forgive the old man for not wanting to let go of that part of your childhood yet.
Two days ago you told me you liked a boy. You said his name was Harry and I told you that every Harry I had ever known was a bad guy.
You laughed and said I would say that about any boy you liked and I giggled.
“Don’t worry dad, he is in a band and I probably won’t ever meet him.”
I nodded my head when you said that but I didn’t ignore your words because I have watched you your entire life and one thing you share in common with me is a willingness to run through walls to get what you want.
One day some boy really will have your attention and you’ll think the sun rises and sets in his eyes. Part of my job is to figure out if he deserves that sort of attention or if it would be better if removed his ability to use his arms.
Some boy is going to be worthy of you. Some one is going to deserve to get all you have to give. I know that and I want you have that but I hope you’ll believe me when I say it is ok to slow down and take your time.
I hope you’ll do all you can to live your dreams and not dream your life.
I hope you’ll remember that sometimes your parents make mistakes but that we have always done our best to do right by you guys.
And I hope you never forget that I love you and will always be here to help.
Love,
Dad
The Shackled Writer didn’t have to search for mysterious doors or draw circles on the ground to create magic portholes to other places.
And he still doesn’t but he looks for those places everywhere he goes, even when he is talking in third person and not using words like you and I.
So let’s correct that have a conversation about this and that.
When I was a kid I watched some movie whose name I cannot remember and was fascinated when the kids in it discovered the castle they were living in had secret rooms and passages.
Ever since then I have wanted to live in a place like that because I knew I was born to have adventures and I figured what better way to have them then in your own castle.
I have been part of a few adventures both as a child and as an adult and have been thinking about writing about some of them. Â But when I looked at some of the words I put down on the page I grew frustrated because what I had written didn’t measure up.
And then I remembered the words from the first Shackled Writer post.
Good writing is scary and great writing is so fucking frightening the sweat drips off of your forehead and onto the keyboard.
I don’t believe that to be an exaggeration either nor is it a necessity, but sometimes it helps.
If I could sing in the manner I want to you would hear a voice that could make you weep or make your heart sing. That is what I want from my words. I want them to make you smile and think.
And sometimes I want you to read them and feel gutted. Sometimes I want to reach inside your chest and make your heart ache in a way that leaves you breathless and amazed.
When I don’t pour my heart out or bleed at the keyboard I get frustrated because I feel like I didn’t put enough into my work. That is the source of some of my frustration.
I realized I had been holding back listening to the whispers of that internal editor and that had stolen some of the joy I normally find in writing.
So I spent some time reading and thinking about what had led me to the place where I wrote the first post about the Shackled Writer and I remembered the feeling.
And then I realized that part of my frustration is tied into the changes that are coming and this feeling that some of them are going to be major.
It doesn’t mean that I fear to make them because fear is the wrong word but the anticipation is getting old. The image in my head is what I have heard the beginning of a tsunami looks like.
The tide is out and the water is being pulled into a massive wave that is just starting to form.
I am staring at the wet sand and looking at the shiny objects that were left behind but I sense the monster wave that is going to come crashing down.
But I do not intend to let it catch me unaware.
It will not crash down upon my head. I am going to ride this one all the way back in.
What has me wound up now is anticipation. I feel like I have a pretty damn good idea what is going to happen and I am growing anxious waiting for the wave to break because I can’t take the next steps until it does.
Ask me what door I intend to choose and I won’t answer, not because I am wrestling with intuition and desire but because there are some boundaries in blogging.
You don’t need to know every thought but I will tell you that what I do will be based upon doing the best I can to help my kids and myself.
Or maybe what I am saying is that I am in the midst of an adventure and that I am excited, maybe even a little frightened. Â But I’ll do my best to remember what Mark Twain had to say about fear.
Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear.
Got to run, the next part of this adventure is calling my name.
My Dog Is An Idiot But He Is Smarter Than You–That is not a fair statement because it clearly insults my dog and he doesn’t deserve it.
Ok, neither do some of  you but I can’t say how many people I include because the idiots are spawning like the heads of the Hydra. Every time I cut one off I create two more, got to remember to bring a flame thrower to this party and finish some of you mofos off.
Consider this a PSA that covers general blogging rules and rules for dealing with Jack Steiner.
If you want to retain old readers and bring in new ones it is best not to insult them. Don’t tell them they are dumber than your dog or suggest that you think they could increase their intelligence by sitting on rusty metal or poles or pulling the rusty metal poles they are sitting on our of their derrieres.
People tend not to respond kindly to those sorts of things.
In regard to dealing with old Jack Steiner do not tell him he is a Nazi or that he is genocidal for being a proud Zionist. Don’t suggest that he should agree with your position that asymmetrical warfare is proof that one side is right or wrong because he may choose to engage you and he won’t be nice.
Nor will he spend time talking in the third person instead he will he revert to saying I take the war personally because it impacts my family and friends.
If you tell me that you have a degree in Political Science and or International Relations I’ll say so what and ask you to use facts to support your allegations and when you talk to me about how you think Hamas has been wronged I’ll wonder if you really understand the facts.
Hamas had the opportunity to try and help the Palestinians in Gaza but they chose to prepare for war. They built tunnels at the expense of the people and imported weapons and prepared for a time when they could play Whack-A-Mole with Israel.
“While the Gaza Strip remains mired in poverty — the 2011 per capita income was $1,165 — Hamas is thought to have sunk more than $1 million into the excavation and maintenance of every tunnel. “Much to the misfortune of the people of Gaza, Hamas has invested far more resources in ‘underground Gaza’ than in ‘upper Gaza,’†Washington Post
Some of you will ask me why I am fired up and wonder what my deal is. Â Let’s pretend I didn’t have family/friends at risk and look at what is happening at many of the protests around the world.
“Several recent pro-Palestinian demonstrations in Paris have boiled over into violence, and earlier this month several hundred protesters sought to storm two synagogues in the French capital during an anti-Israel demonstration in which protesters chanted, “Death to Jews!†and “Hitler was right,†according to Serge Cwajgenbaum, secretary general of the European Jewish Congress, a Brussels-based organization representing European Jewry.” New York Times
There are events taking place outside of France too.
Or maybe we should take a look at Twitter:
I hope now the world understand hitler’s hate for those people #FreePalestine #HitlerWasRight
— Zayneb1D∞ (@ZaynebH1D) July 21, 2014
I left some Jews to let yot know why I was killing them – Adolf Hitler. Brave man. #AdolfHitler #HitlerWasRight pic.twitter.com/L50RjMsyBu”
— Noor Tiwana (@noortiwana1) July 22, 2014
You can tell me those are isolated events and that many people on Twitter are calling people out for tweeting that. You can tell me that there are lots who are ashamed by it and I will agree with you.
There are.
But history has taught us that it doesn’t take much for evil to take root. The PM in Turkey refuses to apologize or acknowledge the Armenian genocide yet while he ignores the 1.5 million Armenians his people murdered he accuses Israel of genocide and does nothing while far right newspapers in Turkey incite violence against Turkish Jews.
You don’t see protests against Syria. There are no people storming the Syrian consulate or threatening Muslims for the massacre of Muslims by Muslims.
I am not happy about the war. I mourn the loss of life and wonder about the innocents in Gaza who are trapped because a homicidal terrorist organization has forced them into this position.
Hamas uses human shields and celebrates the loss of Palestinian life. Their leaders have stolen billions of dollars and are not in the line of fire.
They have a charter that calls for the destruction of Israel and if history has taught us anything it is to recognize that we don’t laugh at murder. If you say you are going to murder us, if you say you want to bathe in the blood of our children we are going to take you seriously and that means we are not going to lie down.
You are not allowed to fire rockets indiscriminately. You are not permitted to to chant Death to Jews and then expect us to ignore it. You are not allowed to cry because more of your side died than ours.
There is no excusing these hashtags on Twitter or reason for it and if you support it than you have an issue.
We are not going away. We are not apologizing and we are not going to be quiet and if that makes you uncomfortable that is your issue, not ours.
BTW, if you want to hear some perspective you aren’t reading in the Western Press you might want to check out Hushed, determined Israel in a war ‘for our home’.
I’ll be back with lighter fare later.