I'm On It

(Editor's note: This article was originally published in the Obama era. That name was changed to "Trump". Everything else is exactly the same as it was when it was published, like four years ago. That, in itself, is just sad). 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 oursel...

A theater in which I have volunteered over the past few years is having an anniversary. The Theatre of the Republic, the official theater of Horry County, South Carolina, is celebrating their 50th anniversary with a weekend of musical revue shows. They are bringing back actors from many of their most popular shows and highlighting some of the truly great talents of the area. A past actor, someone who, when informed of this, lamented the fact that they were too far away at the time to attend, waxed nostalgic. In glowing terms they wished all the performers only the very best for their upcoming festivities. This made me wonder. I wondered what made the theater arts so beloved, so well-respected and so vehemently defended by its participants - both actors and patrons alike. I admit that I feel it, as well. I just haven't put it to words. So, I resolved to do so. After much reflection, I have determined what it is, for me at least, that makes theater so special. ...

A few years ago, my daughter came home from a school trip to a major airline manufacturing facility. She declared that she wanted to be an aerospace engineer. Understandably, my wife and I were thrilled. What kid knows what they want to do in life? Most adults haven't even figured it out yet. I started to dig in, trying to find out what kind of opportunities this field would present to her. I found lots of Engineering Groups. I also found Women's Engineering groups. I began to wonder why women needed their own groups. After all, in this day and age, it couldn't be that women were really still held down in STEM fields. Could it? Stop laughing. Of course they can. There are a variety of reasons... some even make sense, but it still adds up to a very unlevel playing field, with women on the low end by a wide margin. So, I started digging a bit deeper.  I spoke to some engineers of many different disciplines, both males and females. What I found was that wh...

Being from New York, I've known for years that Donald Trump is little more than a carnival barker in an expensive suit. Most New Yorkers know this. Even though most of New York consistently votes Republican, (more people who vote democratic live in NYC than in the rest of the state combined, so as goes "the City", so goes the state), we all know that Trump is little more than a self-aggrandizing hump that lives to trumpet his own worth. Make no mistake, New York has its share of rednecks, tea party knuckleheads and people simply fed up with the status quo, just like the rest of the country. I lived for more than fifteen years in a town completely run by one party, rife with false patriotism, flags everywhere and an earnest population that thinks they are part of the "real America". And, we still thought Donald Trump was a joke. A joke, however, that says what some people think. Politicians have to say what we want to hear. If they actually say wha...

When my daughter came home from a school trip exclaiming, "I want to be an aerospace engineer!" I was thrilled. How many people can say that they have a teenager who actually knows what they want to be when they grow up? I don't even know what I want to be when I grow up! For my daughter, who busts her butt to get straight A's, to say that she wants to go into a field that will require her to bust it even harder made me very proud. Of course, in my own mind, I took all of the credit for instilling in her the work ethic, creativity and problem-solving skills one would need to make it in the field of aerospace engineering.  It was a very proud moment for me. She didn't feel restrained by what many would see as traditional gender roles when it came to careers. Having moved to the South, the very birthplace of Redneck, from New York, the bastion of liberalism, (or so people think...it's really not), I was worried. I worried that the culture would wear h...

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...

Editor's Note: The following is a post relating to the author's being in a play. This, after moving to another part of the country from New York. There will be more posts  as the show develops. This post can also be found on the Tarol Nation blog. "1-2-3-and!". Flap, flap, flap. "You have lines here." Flap, flap, flap. That sound was me frantically flailing at pages in the script, trying to find where we were. I had been doing that for a while by this point, but the music coming from the piano had been masking it. Now, as the Musical Director was waiting for me to catch up, it became somewhat more apparent to the other fifteen people in the room. I didn't realize that the lines I had rehearsed so diligently came in the middle of a song. As I know now, that's why they are written on a page where everything else is in all caps. Not knowing how to read music is a bit of a hindrance, but certainly not a deal breaker. I do know how to coun...

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...

Excitement and loss devastation and heroism defined Infamy and focus, "We're in, we're in!" Destruction and pain on all sides Propaganda and body parts Cartoons and evil defined A tear for the dead and a shout at the hunted "How could they have been so blind?" Lines drawn in the sand A new standard of living to be idealized those removed beneath the notice of men with profits to realize The jungle sings its cruel song The shadows laugh and destroy Technology emboldens but fails to deliver Just the tallest of the toys To each, his need in turn From each his strength in time fine until true natures emerge Push back, push back, must hold the line Corruption held up as the lesser Two evils or three or four The warm and well fed with no reason to see the eyes of revenge at their door The height of hubris beckons "An idea to be changed!", we're sold And the retribution we watched again and again is the reason for it, ...

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...

I saw a graphic today of a biker - tats on both arms, long, ZZ Top beard, shades, do rag, you know, the classic American biker. The graphic had text that read something along the lines of, “I may look strange to you, but I cried when my daughter broke her foot and my mom is proud of me…” and so on. The thrust of the piece was, I guess, “Don’t judge a book by its cover”. A noble sentiment, but I have to ask… Hi, I’m America… have we met? If you have a long beard, are covered with tattoos and look like you will eat souls given half the chance, people are going to think a variety of things about you… and not all of them will be pleasant. Is that right? Is that the way it should be? No. Of course not. But, is it true? Abso-fucking-lutely. (See? I used a curse word. Doesn’t that conjure up a preconception about me?) The way we look, the way we dress and the way we interact with others shapes the way they look at us, feel about us and interact with us. That’s the truth, whether you t...

I was out picking up some stuff, and I wanted a pretzel. I went into the mall and got one, (actually, I got a cup of pretzel bites, but I digress). I paid for my order, and the change was about 85 cents. I was heading into the bookstore not far from the mall when a young man approached me. He asked if I had change for a dollar. Reaching into my pocket, I told him I didn’t think I had a full dollar’s worth.While I was comically drawing forth quarters and nickels I asked him what he needed. He replied that he needed change for the bus. Having retrieved all of the coins I carried, I proceeded to give the handful of money to him. He offered me the dollar. I waved it away, and unceremoniously dropped the coins into his hand. He accepted it gracefully, but his face told me he wasn’t used to accepting such charity. Not wanting to offend him, I turned and said, “Do something nice for someone else today.” A smile broke out on his face. Few things in my life were as dazzling and warm and wo...

My wife and I. We help. We volunteer. We helped a bunch of people do a job today that needed to be done. Not for any grand or glorious purpose. Not because the fate of the world, or our nation, or even our town hung in the balance. Just because some people we hold dear needed a hand. As you might know from reading my irregularly-posted nonsense, my kids belong to a theater troupe. It’s not just any troupe. It’s not a star factory where the talented ones are pushed forward while the average kid is relegated to carrying as spear. It’s the kind of troupe where the shy kid gets a few lines just to give them an excuse to speak in public. Where the little one gets a key line or action to perform, so they and their parents can burst with pride at the end of the show. It’s the kind of troupe where every kid is welcomed, and made to be part of the family. The kind of group that is a non profit, where they rely on parent volunteers to help pull stuff together and make things happen for the ...

You can't have America without freedom, although the last president and the current one have certainly tried to remove as many freedoms as possible. Even though, to me, the Second Amendment means the National Guard, (and it's painfully obvious to me that it doesn't mean you can own a howitzer or a bazooka just because you want one), I have to wonder... why not? Why can't I own a bazooka? What if I want to not just kill a deer, but completely obliviate it, just for kicks? I'm an American. I can do whatever I want, as long as I don't run afoul of any laws or hurt anyone, (whichever is easier to explain away in court). The answer finds me pretty easily. If I wanted to completely obliviate a deer with a bazooka, that would be CRAZY. Hence, I shouldn't own a firearm of any kind, (because I'm fucking insane... just to be clear). There's no reason for me to own an assault rifle, so wanting one brings my sanity into question. Hence, I shouldn't have on...

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...