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.

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).

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 8^th 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 15^th 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 19^th 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

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.

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.

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.

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.
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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.