Before publishing this blog, I ran it by my wife.
She read dutifully and came to the conclusion: “If you post this, people are going to think you’re an a-hole.”
“And this will be, the one thing we remember.”
~ OK Go
My son is two-and-a-half years old. His favorite song is The One Moment, by OK Go. I have to sing it to him every night before bed, like a lullaby. If it comes on when we’re in the car, he shouts “Color Band!”—his name for them—and begins shouting out all the colors as they appear in the video.
(If you’re not familiar, you should check it out.)
He’s at a particularly loving stage in life; his current modus operandi regarding avoiding bedtime is to become particularly snuggly, demanding hugs and kisses. And not just any hugs and kisses, my son has specific ways of giving and receiving affection.
One month ago, La La Land was all but assured an Oscar for Best Picture; it had frontrunner buzz like nobody’s business.
Lately, however, something has shifted. The more people talk about the movie, the more they say they like it, but they don’t love it.
“Donald Drumpf does not represent the America I know.”
It’s a quote I’ve been hearing (and seeing) a lot. In conversations, on social media; people are stunned that someone who ran a campaign based on racism could capture the presidency. It makes me wonder what America they’re speaking of.
Money isn’t everything.
I’ve heard it a million times over the course of my life, and a few weeks ago my proverbial camel’s back finally snapped. I was listening to a podcast where an empire-building entrepreneur was doling out sage advice on being successful.
Several years ago, Louis CK caused a ripple in the entertainment industry.
He self-financed, recorded, and released a comedy special, then put it on his website for direct download. In doing so, he bypassed all the major TV/movie studios and record labels.
I wasn’t surprised when Donald Drumpf won the presidency.
Disappointed, yes, but not surprised.
In the aftermath of the “upset,” every single pundit and newsperson discussed bubbles; who lives in them, and how that caused the experts to call it wrong.
I do not live in a bubble. I travel the country slinging jokes.
Several months ago, Mercer park in Iowa City, Iowa (duh), received the state’s largest play structure for children. It had multiple slides, a toddler climbing wall, swings aplenty, and the focus of this piece: a footbridge.
The footbridge was just over six feet off the ground—I could stand under it and almost touch it with the tippity-top of my head—and connected the climbing wall to the main structure. When I saw it, I immediately thought of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. The ending, specifically, when Indy is trapped on a rope bridge far above a river, Thuggee members closing in on him menacingly.