Friday, December 7, 2012

The Trial of Merry Christmas -vs- Happy Holiday


Lawyer (examining M. Christmas): State your name.

M. Christmas: Merry Christmas.

Lawyer: How old are you?

M. Christmas: 2,012 years old.

Lawyer: Where were you born?

M. Christmas: Bethlehem, Judea in Israel. I was born the same day as Jesus.

Lawyer: (opens Bible) Well, I see a record of Jesus' name and birth....why isn’t there a record of your birth name in the Bible?

M. Christmas: Er,-

Lawyer: You just stated that you are 2,012 years old, yet there is no record of any such celebration called Merry Christmas until centuries later!

M. Christmas: Er, -

Courtroom: (murmurs)

Lawyer: Please tell the court about the evergreen trees, decorations, lights, and material gifts used in early Christmas celebrations.

M. Christmas: Uh, I don’t believe there were any.

Courtroom: (gasps, shocked)

Lawyer (to clerk): Let the record show that Merry Christmas admitted that no evergreens, decorations, or lights were used in early Christmas celebrations. No more questions your Honor.

Judge: Please step down, Merry Christmas.

Lawyer: Your honor, I’d like to call Happy Holidays to the stand.

Lawyer: Please state your name and age for the court record.

H. Holidays: Happy Holidays. I’m about 10 years old.

Lawyer: Did you say 10 years old?

H. Holidays: Yes.

Lawyer: No offense, but you look much older.

H. Holidays: None taken. I’ve been used on and off over the years, but for the last few years, I’ve been used a lot more at this time of the year.

Lawyer: You’re being accused of taking away Christmas.

H.Holidays: No sir! I celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Thanksgiving, and any other holiday that happens to fall in between November 26 and December 31. Then my cousin Happy New Year takes over.

Lawyer: Why do you have to speak for all the other holidays?

H. Holidays: I don’t have to. I don’t even get paid extra for all those other holidays! Due to the over-materialism of Merry Christmas, the public got tired of saying Merry Christmas and employers wanted to be inclusive of employees of other faiths so some genius decided to lump all of the holidays together under my name-without notifying me first!

Courtroom: (shocked, murmurs)

Merry Christmas: (stands up) I object your honor. My name is being slandered. I didn’t want all these fancy wreaths and expensive gifts (gifts and decorations fall to the court room floor)

Happy Holidays: Oh please! Just look at you. You’re like a walking, talking department store. Just look at those unopened electronics.

Merry Christmas (angry): I’ll teach you!

(Merry Christmas attacks Happy Holidays)

Judge: Order in the court! Order in the Court!

(Bailiff separates Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays)

Judge: Very undignified behavior, Merry Christmas. I remember how gracious you used to be when I was growing up.

Merry Christmas: Me? Undignified??!! Just look at yourselves. Every year, you demanded more and more of me until finally I become an empty by word, a catch phrase where all of you get a few days off so you can buy more stuff than you need, never once thinking about Me and what I really mean. You all disgust me. You can keep your precious Happy Holidays. I’m leaving.

Happy Holidays: Wait! Merry Christmas is right. (turns to the courtroom) Merry Christmas has worked hard for centuries and somewhere along the way, you all demanded much more than Merry was ever intended to give. Just saying Merry Christmas used to bring a cheerful look to your faces and now look at all of you-your skin is pasty from looking into those smartphones and cyber shopping all day long.

H. Holidays (cont’d):And me? I don’t even know what I stand for anymore. Merry Christmas and I used to go hand in hand. You couldn’t say one without the other and now, you greedy, greedy people have used us for the last time. Without us, you won’t get a day off, you’ll have to work all year round, there won’t be any more sales leading up to us and worst of all you’ll never see those beloved, heartwarming cartoons about Rudolph, Santa, Frosty, or Ebenezer Scrooge ever again. You know they were made so that maybe just once you would think about WHAT we mean and WHO we really represent. Fare well, forever. Let’s go Merry.

(Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays link arms and disappear in an explosion of tinsel) 

(Immediately all of the Holiday décor in the courtroom incinerates.)

(Juror screams): Cyber Monday has been cancelled! (smartphone disappears) Oh no, my phone is gone! That was a gift from last uh, uh…I can’t remember, my gift is gone.

(Everyone else starts screaming too as their smartphones and other Christmas gifts disappear)

Reporter: Millions of dollars in electronics, mostly gifts from uh, uh, hmm, I can’t remember what these gifts were for, but they have all disappeared. This, in addition to parking lots filled with evergreen trees. FAO Schwartz and Toys R Us are gone too, while many other stores are now half-empty. Makes you wonder what holiday will disappear next.

THE END

Friday, August 17, 2012

The New Networking: Do Unto Others (Even if They Don't Do Unto You Later)

As a freelance writer, I am always interested in writing for new publications, both print and online. Recently, I pitched an editor of a well known national magazine about some story ideas. I don't feel like name dropping so I won't. But I wasn't talking up my own writing prowess - I was promoting someone else.

I was pulling hard for some smarter, younger talent to get the gig. Why? I'm not completely insane, but I am completely realistic.

Over the years, I've attended dozens of networking events, received millions of business cards, and even became friends with some awesome individuals. Some of these connections have led to gigs - some haven't. It's the writer's creed. But one thing I began to notice is that everyone at these events was self-promoting (myself included). The conversations quickly became repetitive droning of what "I'm doing...". But of course that's what normal networking is all about.

Normal networking usually means trying to advance yourself. The New Networking means advancing/promoting someone else, even at the risk of getting, well, screwed. Of course there is the slightly self-interested hope that you'll be remembered and rewarded for your good deed, but there's the more likely chance that you won't. But helping someone else get their foot in the door someplace still gives you a better chance than not.  After all, if you don't get the gig, shouldn't someone you know get it instead?

In the world of arts & entertainment, it's always about who you know (or knew). So I am putting my theory to the test. In my pitch, I did manage to grab the editor's attention with my own resume, but his interest level spiked significantly when I segued into a quick spiel about my talented friend who might also be a good fit. I've also considered that there may be sundry reasons for this; maybe the editor just didn't like me or maybe the editor, like me, had become tone deaf to everything "I'm doing."

So what if my friend gets the gig and I don't? They could dump me. That's a true risk that seems to happen disproportionately in the entertainment industry. You help someone get a step up only to get stepped on, ignored, or forgotten.

Personally, I am more impressed when someone links me to a friend's indie film or tells me about a possible connection, so I can only believe that when I do the same a similar effect happens.

If my friend gets the gig, that will prove that  The New Networking works. If they get the gig and help me out along the way, that proves the New Networking is a success. And if they get the gig and dump me, then that will show that the New Networking is just like the old networking --- minus one.

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Rock of Ages: Film Review

One phrase: Tom Cruise - bare buttocks. That alone makes seeing this movie worthwhile.  I'll expound later.

First of all this movie isn't about anything so don't expect any epiphanies, messages, or that seeing it will spark any useful intellectual conversations. But this movie does ROCK and is an authentic and badly needed showcase for "real" music.

Within 5 minutes I was transported back to the late 80's, "my" era, when I was still an idealistic youth before puberty and taxes ruined my life.  The music is the centerpiece of this musical masterpiece. Journey and Bon Jovi, among other pop/rock favorites, are heavily rotated and makes the music from those days seem even better in the afterglow of today's "manufactured" singers.

The expected story of a naive young country girl with big dreams moving to L.A. is tried and true and unapologetically includes a predictable montage of an expected misunderstanding, breakup, reuniting, and "finding yourself", but the simple sweet story of finding love in the big city still brought tears to my old cynical eyes.  Catherine Zeta-Jones provides a humorous contrast as an unusually embittered mayor's wife determined to bring down Stacee Jaxx and all satanic rock music.

So back to Tom Cruise, who miraculously manages to remake himself once again into a completely believable character as the slightly insane rocker, Stacee Jaxx. His singing is decent and his rock singer inflections are credible, but as I mentioned, if you are interested in getting a very nice view of Cruise's bare vanilla butt-cake, then this is the film for you.

There is music for everyone by the way. Mary J. Blige adds some incredible soul to the rock ballads as does pretty much everyone who opens their mouth including Catherine Zeta-Jones. The Alec Baldwin / Russell Brand side love story was cheesy, overdone, and superfluous, but that is regrettably the lowest point of the film.

This movie is heavy on simul-sex with Tom Cruise getting down and an incredibly suggestive pole dance scene in a strip club and a few other hot moments, but honestly, it's just a movie. So view at your own discretion or just cover your eyes.

Feenin' for some 1980's nostalgia? Then pile in the theater. Sit back, relax, and SING (along).


Thursday, May 17, 2012

Geneaology - The New Tomb Raiding


Henry Louis Gates, Jr. has released an ancestral deluge. The prolific Harvard professor’s pastime of probing into slavery’s past has unleashed a floodgate of copycat genealogy shows, web sites, and DNA testing facilities, all in the name of “finding your roots”, in other words, “who’s the daddy of your daddy’s daddy’s daddy?”  While I enjoy the dramatic buildup of these superbly produced programs, I am dismayed by this new fascination with the past.

Once only “regular” people had their roots traced, now celebrities “discover” their humble or exalted beginnings in the U.S. or in some humble village oceans away. People with Southern roots seem surprised that slavery was a big part of their past. Others are amazed to find that their immigrant or slave ancestors endured unimaginable hardships only to die in poverty or obscurity. Sharing in the disappointing aspirations of these long dead ancestors presumably brings “closure”, but to what?

Digging up the well-guarded secrets of our predecessors is the new and acceptable way of tomb raiding, for information far less valuable than most people think. It was once considered impolite to answer back your parents or question your grandparents too closely about their personal lives- now it’s en vogue. It will soon be passé not to know who your 8th great-grandfather used to buy butter from.

Death, in my view, was the final threshold. If nothing else, you could at least expect to take your pent up attitudes, hopes, and dreams to the great beyond. The grave was the one place you could expect to have your darkest fears and most absurd behaviors protected- that’s what Death does - hold you and your secrets for eternity. The acronym R.I.P. will soon stand for Ripe for Indiscreet Probing.

But now, thanks to insatiable curiosity or perhaps boredom or insecurity, flocks of individuals are recklessly hoisting up information without thought as to what the purpose of withholding that info actually was. Remember Pandora’s Box. 

I feel for the 15th century forebear who had that illegitimate child, thinking that within a few decades the scandal would be forgotten, only to now have news of their indiscretion blasted across the globe for millions to witness.

But then I am amazed at the meticulous record keeping of medieval churches and 19th century immigrant records. Why are we still hanging on to those records anyway? Was the intention to forever link us to our roots? Or that one day the prying eyes of any stranger could piece together our ancestry at will? It seems to me that most people fleeing their native countries wouldn’t willingly want to be traced back anywhere.

I can’t help but muse that all the time spent traveling to far away continents finding distant cousins might be better spent treating estranged local relatives to a “reconciliation” barbeque or helping some kid with no living family get to college.

Questioning the wisdom of this ancestor fever may seem like sour grapes, but no less so than discovering a hole filled with money in your backyard. In every great adventure flick, every treasure find is always followed by an indescribable terror.

I am perplexed and dismayed by this assault on the past. It’s a portal to worlds that we can’t possibly understand. If we have difficulty understanding the mentality of the 1950’s, how can we presume to probe the mind of someone dead for centuries?

I, for one, have no real desire to experience some mediocre “aha” moment after sifting through moth eaten diaries only to find out some relative of mine from centuries past shared my disdain for licorice: (slaps hand to forehead “Ohhh, so that’s why I hate licorice!”)  

Let sleeping dogs lie. Let well enough alone. Let the dead bury the dead.  What’s done is done. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

 The past is in the tomb, tomorrow’s in the womb, that’s why today is called the Present. J

Monday, May 7, 2012

Amazingly Bad Attitudes Haunt 'Amazing Race' Finale

As I watched season 20 of my favorite reality show, Amazing Race, draw to a close, it was with disappointment and a feeling that I may not bother with Season 21.  Sportsmanship, once a hallmark of the enduring show, has officially left the building. Several teams, including the "winning" team, repeatedly displayed what must have been record lows of ungracious behavior.

Over the years, I have witnessed several teams degrade themselves as human beings with petty behavior. What I do not concur with is the apparent willingness of the show to allow poor sportsmanship to run amock, as the producers certainly did this season. Cat fighting and name calling is not only unnecessary, but annoying. Must  the frustrations of petty adults spoil the "amazing" factor of this show?

Honestly, if not for the presence of the two Kentucky boys, Bopper and Mark, I would not have bothered watching the show at all this year. Their dedication to each other and the RULES buoyed them far above the other teams in terms of conduct.

Teams should be admonished and penalized for clearly arrogant behavior and unbecoming conduct. In case the producers of this show were wondering, the Race itself is exciting enough without displays of arrogance. The fun of the show, which is the prospect of racing around the world, is sullied when teams accuse each other, to Phil's face, of cheating.

For Phil to have to bring up the poor conduct on the winning episode is surely an indication that a big problem is brewing or perhaps has already boiled over.  It is my hope that the Amazing Race returns to its roots of creating a humbling experience instead of showcasing belittling attitudes. If not, the Amazing Race will merely be the permanent home of the Aggravating Rant.

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Anderson Haunts as Miss Havisham

High school English class has a way of imprinting on you, even more so when you are a teenager reading about embittered zombies raising small children, like Miss Havisham in the new production of "Great Expectation" airing on PBS.

Gillian Anderson, in another career leap, erases most of my high school images of Miss Havisham as an extremely old witch-like woman and transforms her into a more eccentric, slightly mean-ish teacher that we all had at one point or another.

Wizened and graceful, like an old ballerina, Anderson glides through Part 1 of "Great Expectations" ethereal and chilly, like a ghost influencing the directions of Pip and Estella's young lives, channeling the casual cruelty of Miss Havisham. Anderson delivers a magnificent performance, especially her eerie voice, a far cry from the robust monotone of Agent Scully.

For those who have not read the book, don't worry, just see this inspired production, true to PBS standards, perfectly capturing the bleak lives of the country poor in 19th century England as Dickens intended. Part 2 airs  Sunday April 8, 2012.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Where Are The Sentinels? (A Tribute to Whitney Houston and a Reflection on Untimely Death)

Where are the sentinels as the night grows cold? Where are the sentinels as I now grow old? Why does life’s burden seem much heavier now? No angels to sing, no fans here to bow.

I long for the sentinels sirens’ songs. I search for the sentinels-I searched for so long. The sentinel flees to a faraway place beyond memory, beyond feeling, beyond time, between space. The smooth flawless appearance of the sentinels face.

My halcyon days are far   behind. Who’s left here to guide me? 
Who else can I find?

The hands of the sentinel hold me still, how they bind. As I grope in the darkness for a flash of green light, I grow blind, my eyes dim, I have lost my first sight.

You are gone, I am here. The dark night.  The still fear. The long journey. Sudden flight. Farewell Sentinel, Sentinel, Sentinel from the Light.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

You're Not Just Voting For a Politician-His Wife Gets Your Vote, Too

Buyer beware. At least that's what I would tell devout GOP voters who are desperate to back a candidate who can "beat Obama." It's never a good sign when your political conviction is built on the hope of what someone WILL do as opposed to what they have already done.  It's a worse sign when the potential presidential spouses lack any ability to spruce up their husbands' lackluster performances.

Michelle Obama was a highly visible (and vocal) part of President Obama's campaign. She didn't blend into the background or appear for the customary "happy couple kiss" and then disappear into the background.

Taking a quick, informal, and unauthorized survey of the GOP Candidate Wives, I don't see any of the energy that their husbands are trying to show.


Mitt Romney- I have no idea what his wife's name is. She has 5 children for him. That is all. 0 points.
Newt Gingrich- I can't quite remember his wife's name, but at least she is somewhat visible. She is not embarrassed to stand near her husband, so I'll give her 2 points.
?
?
?
I know there were some other GOP hopefuls, but I've forgotten who they are. Okay, okay I am being a little bit mischievous. Later on, I will do actual research on their wives and construct a more intelligent blog. But for now, this is just a warning that the days of Jackie O are long over and we need a presidential COUPLE, not just a female fixture. Buyer, you are warned.

Monday, January 30, 2012

unfinished SHORT STORY (open for commentary and review)

I was born a nobody and I had no expectations for my life. Few girls born in the countryside did in those years. My parents were quiet and hardworking. Married nearly 30 years before I was conceived, I was considered by some to be a miracle; at least that’s what some village people told me. My life might have remained the same endless routine of spring planting, summer harvest, autumn slaughter, and enduring winter cold. Truly, I did not mind because I knew nothing else and had no desire to know. There was nothing in me that even wanted to acquire knowledge of anything beyond my basic needs for simple food, shelter, and the cordial companionship my parents provided. Nineteen years of this passed and I fully expected to end my days as my father had the year before, laying on a simple cot with a priest reading the Bible to me as my soul slipped quietly out of the world.
I often think of how strange it was that I ended up working in Madame Marchand’s  kitchen. Of all the chores required of and faithfully performed by rural people, cooking and cleaning alluded me.  I often grimaced at the dishes I prepared. My father was the true cook. My mother could clean anything and even the wealthier people of the town would have her come and clean expensive things once in a while. That’s how good she was. I never went with her on those trips that often lasted 2 days. I never wanted to. I was much more at home in the barn. Something about the hard, backbreaking work invigorated me in a way. The smell of horse manure didn’t bother me because I was used to smelling it in the fields. Was it the darkened privacy? The hot, humid atmosphere even in winter? But that summer, the summer after my father died, the barn was no longer my domain. It now belonged to Vincent.
Vincent was a wayfarer. He was young, though he never told me his age. He was not the usual vagabond. For one, he preferred the countryside he said, though I learned to doubt the things Vincent said. For when he spoke of the city, his eyes grew round with a wild excitement and he spoke almost too quickly for anyone to understand him. He could read quite well, which was useful because my mother liked to hear the Scriptures read and I was not such a good reader, nor did I like having to sit inside.  So the first year after my father died was a bit harder on me because I was indoors so much more. So Vincent would read the Scriptures and then he would sometimes slip in some poems. My mother would rebuke him for his worldly interest. But I could hear the smile in her voice when she did...

HOW I CAN SAVE SAAB

Bankruptcy proceedings continue for the least understood luxury automaker in the U.S. as it gets ready to take its final bow. In the 20 years that I’ve been interested in cars, I’ve known exactly 2 people who owned Saab’s. Most of the people I know of a certain income range prefer BMW’s, souped up Honda’s, or Mustangs. One twentysomething I questioned about his Saab 9-5 floored me by stating his gas mileage was over 28 mpg. If the gas mileage is so great, then why don’t I see more people driving them? I demanded to know. He quipped, with a wry smile, that “Saab’s are for people who are kind of weird, like me”. So if Saab vehicles have such great gas mileage and a niche audience, why the trouble?

WHAT IS IT? Unlike BMW or Lexus, Saab has never quite distinguished itself as a major luxury contender.  Americans identify Yuppies with German vehicles, the way peanut butter goes with jelly. When the yuppie becomes a daddy, then he opts for the ultra-safe Volkswagen. When the daddy becomes an empty nester, he finally buys his dream muscle car, usually a Mustang. Where does Saab fit into this. No one quite knows. It’s not quite a young man’s brand or a middle-aged woman’s brand or a family brand. It doesn’t have a “prius-like” Hybrid to appeal to the "Green" trend or college kids. For Saab to come back 10x stronger, it must identify a clear audience or lifestyle and actively pull them in.

SAAB VS... ? As a leading Scandinavian company, it is criminal that Saab’s U.S. market should have been allowed to fail. But by ignoring key marketing strategies and failing to employ innovative ones, Saab’s demise was an accident waiting to happen. The ultra-cool “We Are Detroit” car commercials are an excellent example of brash re-branding and marketing. For over a decade, American-made cars from Detroit were anathema, but now even I, a bonafide European car lover, give Chryslers more than a passing glance. BMW, Mercedes, and Lexus outdo themselves with ever more aggressive commercials showcasing handling, styling lifestyle, and most importantly, competitiveness. Even the lowly Hyundai has flexed its muscles in a clear bid to steal away some luxury car customers or at least make them think twice. I can’t even remember the last time I saw a Saab commercial. Saab has to show where they fit on the sliding scale of luxury autos.

CONNEXIONS. Celebrities and cars make a wonderful “comfort”combination like salmon and white wine or soda and pizza. Attaching lovable and preferably well-recognized celebrities to cars is an attention grabber and adds legitimacy, which is more important than ever for Saab. Go after 1 or 2 viable Scandinavian celebrities Saab can attach to their product. If you want the family angle, go after Elin Nordegren. If you can’t find a celebrity, create one instead, the way Geico used a gecko. Just make sure the frontman (or woman) is truly emphasizing what the brand is about and appealing to the target market.

CROSS POLLINATION. Saab missed a great opportunity to piggyback on the movie “Thor.” What other symbols and/or products go with Saab? Introducing and promoting other aspects of Scandinavian culture can and will enhance the brand. Cars are now marketed in malls, allowing buyers who are sensitive (or allergic) to car dealers a low pressure browsing experience in a pleasant atmosphere filled with food and new clothes. Think Saab Think! Can the designer Elie Saab be a part of this? Like Eddie Bauer enhanced Ford Explorer's. How about including Nordstrom's? Or Popular chefs Tina Nordstrom and Andreas Viestad? Put a Saab in an Ikea store. Cross-pollination of the car brand with other items will make some new and positive connections, leading to a revived brand and a new luxury sales market, that is in danger of being defined by only a few heavyweights.

In order to be truly successful into the 21st century, Saab’s reliance on producing efficient cars is clearly not enough. It must display a ruthless precision in its marketing and diffuse its saturation with creative marketing and innovative new products appealing to specific markets. It doesn’t have the standalone power of other luxury makers with a U.S. market and must synergize with other culturally relevant lifestyle brands. It can become the brand to buy, just as Chrysler, Hyundai, and Toyota struggled through the recession doldrums to make a major impact. But it must do a turnaround around soon and put some “BaaS” into Saab.