I'm On It

Here's the deal. This is just my opinion, so take it all, or some, or none of it, as you see fit. With every passing month, we hear of another shooting, another mass killing or another way for people to hurt each other. Although these things happen around the world, (albeit with an alarming frequency here in the U.S.), I'll direct my thoughts to us here in the United States. People wring their hands over every mass shooting, and with good reason. A tragedy is never easy to suffer. But, if it's a white guy as the shooter, (and it's usually a white guy), our media trots out the "mental health" discussion, so we don't have to take responsibility for anything. The problem becomes one so much larger than ourselves, there's just no way we can tackle it on a personal level. So, we cluck our tongues and shake our heads and bemoan "those people" who haven't fixed the problem yet. Liberals call for more gun legislation, conservatives wrap thems...

I've heard it said, and I've even seen it written, that spelling is no longer as important as the message put forth. Using “your” and “you’re” interchangeably doesn't matter. Sprinkling “to”, “too” and “two” throughout said message with nary a care is beneath notice.”There”, “their” and “they’re” can be, and should be used as the writer sees fit, with no more thought expended in their choosing than one would use in choosing a hanky with which to blow one’s nose. In short, those old-time, fuddy-duddy roles no longer matter. Nothing could be further from the truth. While it may seem permissible to shorten the word “you” to “u” or “are” to “r” to save space in your one hundred forty character masterpiece of allegory, the illusion of such use being “ok” is simply that: an illusion. It’s not okay, but one can’t stop progress.  However, in graphics, missives and blocks of text shared with the rest of the populace, spelling is still important. I would venture to...

“Thank you , five.”  This is whispered in a dozen voices. The voices come from dark corners and from behind scrims and curtains. They are the voices of the young actors in Lucky Boy , in response to our stage manager, telling us that we have five minutes until the first note is played by the band. Once that note is struck, the show is on and nothing short of a meteor striking the Robert Moss Theater can stop it. But, for now, it is still yet to be. Three teenaged actors giggle over something on a phone.  Another sits alone, prepping a prop that will be needed at some point in the next two hours. Two Punky Cheer Girls sit on the floor, stretching and shaming those of us in the cast who have absolutely no hope of ever being able to make our legs do that. Costumes are on, most props are set. These last five minutes are usually just for waiting, centering oneself and mentally preparing to be exposed to the criticisms and whims of the audience. But, even that g...

As a dad to two theater kids, it’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking that seeing literally hundreds of rehearsals, dozens of shows and helping to create scenery, programs, etc. makes me an expert. I’ve been in a few productions as well, which only heightens the sense of ennui when the subject of theater comes up. One thing that helps stave off such listlessness is being surrounded by incredibly talented people who have a much broader experience base. When one of those “old pros” is younger than me, it gives me the chance to see the world through their eyes, and a much cooler world it is. Another thing that helps to turbo charge that excitement level is to be in a real, bona fide New York production. Like me. Tonight. Tonight is opening night for “Lucky Boy”, the new rock musical by John Ryerson that debuts at the Robert Moss Theater in NYC. I feel like I’m wrapped in a downed power line, (you can just imagine what that means as far as touching me, coming in contact w...

To some, this day in June is much like any other. That day on the beaches of Normandy was long ago and far away, and the stain long since washed from the sand. The coming summer, the end of school, even National Doughnut Day all hold more importance, more excitement, more pending joy. To some, D-Day means almost nothing. Just another date, another moment in the vast interwoven pattern of bloodshed for the capitalists. Another string in the tapestry that lay across the terrifying world we will leave behind. For some, for those who remember, D-Day was a big deal. While it's importance to history can be debated, and it's effect as a part of Operation Overlord can be shredded and examined, it can't be pushed aside. No matter how many historians say that Stalin was already on his way to defeating the German War machine, there will always be those who say that none of that matters. There will be those who say that D-Day was important. Because they were there. It won't be...

I read a news report today about a five year old who was arrested, (actually, held in police custody), for bringing a gun to school. The gun was in his backpack, and went off accidentally. No one was hurt, thank goodness. The administration of the school said the boy will be dealt with as per their zero tolerance policy toward weapons in school. The story happened in Tennessee, which happens to have a statute that says children under the age of nine can’t be charged with a crime, so, thankfully, this five year old baby is not going to the slammer. One thing that made this story absurd, (among the many, many things that made this story absurd), were the comments below the story. Things like, “Where were the parents?” and “It’s shameful how people let their kids do whatever they want.” And on and on. The people that commented were very clear in their disdain for the parents of the five year old, going so far as to advocate the removal of the child from their custody. Most interestin...

There is a phenomenon that is unique to humans. I’m sure it has a scientific name or behavioral pigeonhole. I don’t know the official name but I know we see it every day… in the news, in each other. People hate to give things up. The longer an idea or tradition has been entrenched, the more people will grasp at it and claw at you to stop you from trying to change it. Such as it is with the nature of power, social position, or guns. The longer a politician, has been in their job, the harder they will fight to keep it. Often going far beyond their original charge to do so. People will fight to keep “The War on Christmas” from overtaking them, even though all of the trappings of Christmas with the exception of the manger scene are Pagan and Christmas itself was ILLEGAL in the US up until about 150 years ago. Too much Popery, not enough real Bible. So, yeah… Christmas with the founding fathers? Didn’t happen. So too, is our fascination with guns. It goes back to the image of the...

Editor's note - this isn't true - not a word of it. It's just made up to annoy you. Take it as you will. As I was shopping today, I overheard a conversation between two people with whom I shared my table in the Food Court. These two gentlemen agreed with each other whole-heartedly. "A sales clerk had the nerve, the audacity to wish me "Happy Holidays." It's "Merry Christmas" you snot rag! My ancestors didn't come to this country, fight in it's wars, pay its taxes and help to build this great melting pot, only to have some mixed-race teenager, (I thought she was black at first, but I don't know... a lot of cream in that coffee, if you know what I mean), denigrate the Lord's birthday with that secular crap. We have to keep the Christ in Christmas. It's none of your business that I won't be working in a soup kitchen, or helping out at a children's hospital or tending to the poor, or any of that tree-hugging nonse...

Rage. Rage against the dying of the light. It's arguable that Dylan Thomas was talking about death at long last in this poem. But, rage has moved in the modern era from the end result of provocation to the first response. This is bad for us. When one is quick to argue, quick to jump to conclusions or quick to blame, that rage snuffs out joy like two wet fingers on a candle's flame. That rage, that small, petty, I'm-better-than-you rage fills us, blocking out even the possibility for warmth or reconciliation. We must wait to "cool down" before we can even consider such a thing. It is not only our impending mortality that conjures up Fear's ugly little brother. In fact, it would seem that things with much less gravity can ignite the flame of wrath as it bubbles just beneath our surfaces. An extra few seconds- seconds!- waiting in traffic, the failure of another human in living up to our expectations or any opportunity where one of us "gets" to ...

If you want to sell a house, even if it’s your own house, you have to “stage” it. Any real estate agent will tell you that there are so many things you need to do to your house to make it “sellable”. You have to get all of the stuff off the kitchen counters so that the room looks bigger. It’s like the people buying the house don’t realize the massive amount of space you waste by having a fucking toaster. Oh my God! We could have had another child! But, sadly, we just didn’t have the room, what with all the space the fucking toaster takes up! You have to take the pictures down so the potential buyer can imagine the room with their pictures. They can imagine their own pictures on the wall, but they can’t if your pictures are there. It’s too much! “We can imagine a bunch of rectangles on this wall, but… oh crap. There are already rectangles there! We’re screwed! I can’t see anything now. “ Real estate agents come in and tell you to paint this, and fix that and move this, and you think, “G...

It has been a stressful month. Between the people supporting the idea of “Ardor’s Bridge” and the stress of watching our contribution numbers creep too slowly toward our goal, I feel torn. I’m relieved to at least know the outcome. I’m sorry that I couldn’t drive this project home. Here is the letter that I sent out on my social media and email channels today: ~ The “Ardor’s Bridge” campaign is over. We didn’t hit our target goal. No one that pledged a contribution to our kickstarter campaign will be charged. The campaign is done. We didn’t make it. We tried to develop an idea and raise funds to see it through. We raised about 20%. To the 18 people that did contribute, and those who wanted to do so but couldn’t for a variety of reasons, I want to say “Thank You”. Thank you for taking the time to read what this project was about. Thanks for reaching into your own pocket in a time when we all feel the economic pinch. And, thanks for believing that every kid deserves to be part of the dia...

With only a few days to go, I have to admit, I’m getting worried. For the past three weeks, I’ve been trying to raise money for a project. I’ve raised about 10% so far, and that’s not without a bit of spamming and shaming my friends and family. I live in a reasonably stable section of the planet. The amount I’m trying to raise shouldn’t be too big a deal. I have two meetings coming up where I’m hoping to convince some people of the importance of my ideas, but, one never knows how those things will turn out. Perhaps a little background is in order. A few months ago, the local school district where I live hosted a meeting outlining the latest ruling from the state. It was actually bigger than that. A law had been passed, outlining the steps schools had to take to ensure that bullying, discrimination and general assholery would no longer be tolerated among the students. No more shoving the geek in a locker, no more marginalizing the fat kid. The real thrust of it, though, was tolerance. K...

TV shows always had a Dad when I was growing up, and he wasn't the bumbling knucklehead that he is on today's TV. When I was a kid, TV Dads were the rock of reason that stepped aside gracefully when their children gushed about movie stars or sports heroes. They were the final word on logic, grace under fire, and knowing the difference between right from wrong. Shows like Father Knows Best, Make Room for Daddy, and even I Love Lucy, (all of which I saw in reruns... I'm not that old that I would have seen them in their first runs), all portrayed the husband and father as the one member of the family to be convinced, consulted and satisfied. TV has always been about advertising and selling products, but somewhere along the way, Madison Avenue saw the writing on the wall. They realized that while the concept of Dad's approval of every household purchase was waning, Mom was still in the trenches, slugging it out at the grocery store, the department store and dealing w...

When I set out to write this, I had no intention of making it a shrill rant on the evils of society or its supposed protectors, the media. I had simply hoped to spell out the reasons that saying "Happy Holidays" is okay. Here are a few; Its shorter than saying "Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Happy Kwanza, happy season for whatever you celebrate and a Happy New Year", (It also fits on a card much better than the above). It includes everyone, regardless of faith, or lack thereof. It doesn't diminish my faith, your faith or anyone else's faith or lack thereof. Obvious, right? So, why is this such an issue? There is no "War on Christmas". This is merely another tool in the tool chest of those who want you to be afraid. People fear change. Change to their strongly-held beliefs, change to their way of life. This is understandable. Its very human to fear stuff. Like the dark, or ever-increasing nighttime. Much like the Pagans who celebrated ...

My son and I spent an evening in a big city for a sporting event. We truly don't watch much television in my house, and me, being of the pointy-headed liberal mindset, don't put much stock in sports in general. So, this event was a pretty big deal. We both had a great time. When discussing the differences between living in a city vs. living in a small town, I crafted a scenario to try and illustrate the point, (and to try and make him laugh). The beginning is true. The rest is not. If you have a hard time finding the dividing line between truth and fiction, you probably live in a small town, too. While shopping in our local supermarket for two boxes of cake mix for my daughter's cupcake decorating class, I entered the baking aisle, selected my items, and made for the other end of the corridor. At the end, was an older lady, reading the ingredients of something. Her cart was skewed at an angle, as if she had simply stopped while making the turn at the end of the aisle,...

The idea that I am qualified to define love may be ridiculous, considering that every human, ever, has tried at least once to take a stab at it. What, then, is the point? It would be redundant and obtrusive to even attempt to categorize something so universally felt, and undeniably personal. Thanks. I think I will. Love is the straight jacket worn by Fear. Oh, relax your eyebrows! Stay with me. There are only two basic emotions inherent in the human experience. The first is Joy. Pure Joy. Not the “For me? It’s just what I wanted!” brand of momentary pleasure that wells up when an expectation or desire is fulfilled. Pure joy is the default state we all start out with, before life pummels the human cylinder-shaped peg into gender-based, behavioral and societal square holes. Joy is how we enter this world, and leaving the State of Joy, as we all do, shapes our continuing desire to return, at all costs. We may have lost the map, or have designated someone or something e...

Every blog author wants to be read. The problem I see when I read them, (and I read a lot of them), is that I have to try and figure out who is doing the writing based on what they say. Any good comedian will tell you that people like jokes, but people won't love you unless you share the "real you" with them. Otherwise, they think, "Who's this guy think he is?" and "Why do I care what he has to say?" So, read this, and decide for yourself. Ever since I was a kid, people asked me if I wanted to be an artist when I grew up. I have always loved to draw, and later, paint, so I guess this was the natural thing for people to say. I never really wanted to be an "artist" per se. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a forest ranger, (I guess so I could be away from people telling me to be an artist). As I grew up, I gravitated toward artistic work. I studied commercial art in school, played drums in a rock band, (badly), and tried to infuse...

As a video editor/writer/producer/ all-around do everything myself guy, I read lots of stuff about how to create good video, great lighting, working with actors, etc. Along with all of the great information out there, I come across lots and lots of lists; checklists, to-do lists, don't forget lists... you get the idea. Being knee-deep in a project right now, I've discovered a few things. Most, I'm sure are on other lists. Obviously, I didn't pay enough attention to them. So, for all of you, (like me), who think you know it all already, here is a real life short list that might help you stave off what I like to call the "Oh crap" moments. (Full Disclosure - I actually used some more colorful words - a lot - when I discovered these things). 1.) Nobody Cares Like You Do Nobody cares about your project the way you do. Stop shaking your head... you know its true. Clients care about budgets and deadlines. Actors care about how they look and perform, and...

For many, social media is a way to connect, stay informed and follow the comings and goings of those people whose lives are more interesting than yours. But, who are those people? They are the humans among us who are more important, more together, more hipster than you. Etiquette and accepted social mores? Nonsense. There are no words or feelings out of bounds. Grammar and punctuation? For amateurs. Spelling? Bah! Who needs it when we have numbers and symbols to guide the less enlightened to the proper path? But, you cry, they are so cool! I want to be one of them! Well, if you must... here's what you need to do, you sad, sad little gnome. 1.) Be Snarky First and foremost among the rules for imposing your world view is to set up the basis of the conversation. Don't ask if Kim Kardashian is dumb. Say it! And then follow up with your assessment of her level of dumbness. Comparisons are good here, too. Bag of rocks, dumb as a stump, etc. It doesn't matter...

While I find it hard to say "no" to my wife for anything, it would have been unthinkable this weekend. After all the help she has provided with my latest production, (scheduler, costumer, mom-wrangler, puppeteer, seamstress... the list goes on), I would have really felt like an ungrateful slob had I refused to help out with the event she had arranged. Our local Applebee's provides non-profit groups with a great way to raise funds by allowing us to arrange a Pancake Breakfast. My wife Gina scheduled one for our church, and today was the day. That meant being up, showered, dressed and in the car by 7:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning. I know for some of you, that doesn't sound like a big deal, but for someone who rarely falls into bed before 2 a.m., there is really only one word for it... $@#@^%&@*@! Still, having worked in the restaurant business for over a dozen years served me well. It didn't take long before I felt right at home plating food, washing dish...