To any and all who listen...
I am moving my blog site to http://MatthewMoran.Typepad.com
Primarily to take advantage of a richer feature set. I will still be using my site here for my son's High School hockey updates, my podcast, and some other content.
Thanks,
Matthew Moran
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Iranian Paper Says, “Neenure, neenure, neenure”
In an attempt to become a living caricature, an Iranian paper has countered Denmark’s publication of cartoons that caricature the prophet Muhammad by calling for cartoons about the holocaust.
It isn’t interesting that they will get some but I am more interested in what their response to the lack of response will be. Yes, there will be people who call them horrible – they probably will be – and people who call for boycotts – they should. The difference is this.
You will not have thousands of protesters destroying buildings and killing people. The “artist” won’t be condemned to death. And there is another vital difference.
This is a difference that makes the call for holocaust pictures so bizarre and sick. In Denmark, as in the US and most of Europe, you have freedom of speech; freedom of the press. The press is not the government. The government in Denmark is one of the most tolerant and liberal in its acceptance of Muslim immigrants.
In Iran, however, the paper is the state. They are one in the same. Not legally, of course. But in Iran, dissent is not an option and the paper prints what the paper is told to print. This is a concept that the rioter’s can’t fathom. They must hold the government culpable and hold all of Europe culpable because in their countries, if it is in print, it is the government.
What is even funnier – in a bizarre way – is that the caricatures showed Muhammad to be violent and warlike. How do those protesting react? Violence, calls for death. The irony is killing me – among others.
Don’t call me violent or I will kill you!!!
If I had a fit every time Christ was caricatured (South Park), dipped in Urine (art), or belittled, I would have had a heart attack three times over.
If you don't want to be caricatured, don't be one!
It isn’t interesting that they will get some but I am more interested in what their response to the lack of response will be. Yes, there will be people who call them horrible – they probably will be – and people who call for boycotts – they should. The difference is this.
You will not have thousands of protesters destroying buildings and killing people. The “artist” won’t be condemned to death. And there is another vital difference.
This is a difference that makes the call for holocaust pictures so bizarre and sick. In Denmark, as in the US and most of Europe, you have freedom of speech; freedom of the press. The press is not the government. The government in Denmark is one of the most tolerant and liberal in its acceptance of Muslim immigrants.
In Iran, however, the paper is the state. They are one in the same. Not legally, of course. But in Iran, dissent is not an option and the paper prints what the paper is told to print. This is a concept that the rioter’s can’t fathom. They must hold the government culpable and hold all of Europe culpable because in their countries, if it is in print, it is the government.
What is even funnier – in a bizarre way – is that the caricatures showed Muhammad to be violent and warlike. How do those protesting react? Violence, calls for death. The irony is killing me – among others.
Don’t call me violent or I will kill you!!!
If I had a fit every time Christ was caricatured (South Park), dipped in Urine (art), or belittled, I would have had a heart attack three times over.
If you don't want to be caricatured, don't be one!
Monday, January 30, 2006
Honey, it’s therapy! The Doctor is In…
I was doing my normal morning perusal of news and bang! – this story jumped out at me. No really. I re-read it 3 times just to ensure I wasn’t dreaming.
Apparently, sex helps calm nerves of people who are going to be speaking in public. They said full-intercourse had the best results. Of course, for purist like Bill Clinton, full-intercourse is the only thing that qualifies as “sex” – as in, "I did not have sex with that woman.” (side note: His answers is particularly interesting. First: No woman can appreciate being referred to as "that" woman. Second: the use of that seems to imply that there could a this woman or another that woman where the answer was different. Finally: Ahh. this is why he was such a good speaker.)
But back to this important study. They used to say that if you were nervous about speaking to a group that you should picture the audience naked. The new paradigm may be to actually get naked with one of them.
I don’t really get nervous before speaking but I am interested in the study’s fuller application. Does sex help calm nerves in general?
My wife gets nervous about things and now I have the answer.
Laura: Our son is taking the car for the night, I’m so nervous.
Me: Honey, the doctor is in.
Laura: Is home-skuling going to prepare our kids? I’m so nervous.
Me: Honey, the doctor is in.
Laura: The terrorist are attacking, the city is in flames and the house is falling down.
Me: Honey, the doctor is in.
In short, I can now say that I am a study-certified, walking, talking stress reducer. And I make house calls.
Of course, she may stick to deep breathing and counting to ten. My argument is that my therapy can incorporate both of the above and take no more time.
Final thoughts: What will this mean for Toastmasters and the National Speaker's Association? How do you teach this "strategy?" Will Heidi Fliess start offering services to public speakers?
Apparently, sex helps calm nerves of people who are going to be speaking in public. They said full-intercourse had the best results. Of course, for purist like Bill Clinton, full-intercourse is the only thing that qualifies as “sex” – as in, "I did not have sex with that woman.” (side note: His answers is particularly interesting. First: No woman can appreciate being referred to as "that" woman. Second: the use of that seems to imply that there could a this woman or another that woman where the answer was different. Finally: Ahh. this is why he was such a good speaker.)
But back to this important study. They used to say that if you were nervous about speaking to a group that you should picture the audience naked. The new paradigm may be to actually get naked with one of them.
I don’t really get nervous before speaking but I am interested in the study’s fuller application. Does sex help calm nerves in general?
My wife gets nervous about things and now I have the answer.
Laura: Our son is taking the car for the night, I’m so nervous.
Me: Honey, the doctor is in.
Laura: Is home-skuling going to prepare our kids? I’m so nervous.
Me: Honey, the doctor is in.
Laura: The terrorist are attacking, the city is in flames and the house is falling down.
Me: Honey, the doctor is in.
In short, I can now say that I am a study-certified, walking, talking stress reducer. And I make house calls.
Of course, she may stick to deep breathing and counting to ten. My argument is that my therapy can incorporate both of the above and take no more time.
Final thoughts: What will this mean for Toastmasters and the National Speaker's Association? How do you teach this "strategy?" Will Heidi Fliess start offering services to public speakers?
Friday, January 27, 2006
Canada Declares War On US
In an unprecedented move of uncharacteristic aggression, Stephen Harper, Canada’s newly elected conservative prime minister declared war on the U.S. Telling reporters that he cannot allow US nuclear submarines to travel through Canadian waters, he emphatically stated that military force would be used if necessary.
To prove his resolve he has formally requested that President Bush immediately provide the military supplies and troops necessary to combat US forces.
“It’s a little awkward but were just aren’t used to fighting without the US. We are hoping they will uphold current treaties and give us what we need to fight this aggressor.”
As a precaution, Canadian troops were stock-piling beer in preparations for a long cold winter.
In a “surprising” turn of events, Palestinian supporters of Fatah and Hamas have started armed conflicts with each other following recent election results – resorting to their traditional, “democracy until we lose” stance.
In a not-so-surprising move, Jimmy Carter has asked that the US continue to send aid to the Palestinians – to maintain a semblance of order. To fully appreciate this statement, please re-read the prior paragraph. Palestinian president Abbas told Jimmy Carter during a recent meeting that the Palestinian Authority did not even have enough money to pay salaries at the end of the month.
Wait a minute... We feed and cloth the people and pay the government salaries. Fortunately, with Hamas winning the elections, the salaries won't be needed.
To prove his resolve he has formally requested that President Bush immediately provide the military supplies and troops necessary to combat US forces.
“It’s a little awkward but were just aren’t used to fighting without the US. We are hoping they will uphold current treaties and give us what we need to fight this aggressor.”
As a precaution, Canadian troops were stock-piling beer in preparations for a long cold winter.
In a “surprising” turn of events, Palestinian supporters of Fatah and Hamas have started armed conflicts with each other following recent election results – resorting to their traditional, “democracy until we lose” stance.
In a not-so-surprising move, Jimmy Carter has asked that the US continue to send aid to the Palestinians – to maintain a semblance of order. To fully appreciate this statement, please re-read the prior paragraph. Palestinian president Abbas told Jimmy Carter during a recent meeting that the Palestinian Authority did not even have enough money to pay salaries at the end of the month.
Wait a minute... We feed and cloth the people and pay the government salaries. Fortunately, with Hamas winning the elections, the salaries won't be needed.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Blow Up A Baby/Kiss A Baby – What’s the difference?
In the US the political process involves a lot of maneuvering to gain the proper, elect-able image.
You need to straddle that fine line of toughness but with compassion. You need to let business know that you will help them grow but let the people know you won’t let them abuse power. You have to show that you love children, kissing babies along the way.
You need to straddle that fine line of toughness but with compassion. You need to let business know that you will help them grow but let the people know you won’t let them abuse power. You have to show that you love children, kissing babies along the way.
But the recent Palestinian election has demonstrated that there are other ways to get that political edge. Rather than kiss children, they blow them up!
For some of us this might seem counter-intuitive but to the radical blood thirsty resident of Palestine (apparently more than 50% them), this is, apparently, very similar to farm subsidies and welfare.
One of the victors is Mariam Farhat, who sent three of her sons to their death as suicide bombers/terrorists ..uh, freedom fighters. I always thought potty training my children, teaching them to tie their shoes, and then cheering them on at sporting events was parental duty. Apparently, teaching them how to strap on a bomb and cheering them on into a crowd of civilians is the next earmark of positive parenting. Now that’s tough love.
She was actually quite the poster child for the Hamas election. They are progressive after all, allowing woman into the political process. I am sure NOW supports her post birth abortions.
This must discourage those who worked with Yassar Arafat all those years. I can imagine them talking amongst each other…
“All these years, I thought we had to pretend we wanted peace. But we just needed to openly kill of few more of our children. We didn’t have to lie.”
Well, I could have told them that honesty is the best policy.
I’ve received a few letters on the topic and thought I should share them with you.
This is an amazing day. I waited until I was in power to let my intentions be known. I wish I could re-enter the political process as a write in candidate. I am sure the Palestinians would give me their vote.
Sincerely,
Adolf Hitler
Now I see the error of my ways. I was always pretending to be Jesus Christ and I ended up in prison. If I had just pretended to be a prophet of Allah my actions would have resulted in a term in parliament not a jail term.
Peace,
Charles Manson
This is all a well-crafted plot by George Bush to divert the attention away from Samuel Alito, the demon-possessed, dove eating judge. We have unnamed sources that prove this.
Honestly yours,
Michael Moore & Oliver Stone
I am sure that more will show up soon.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Miller Time - the High Life...
It appears that Bill Marolt is upset at Bode Miller's comments about skiing drunk. The entire story is getting a lot of play in the media. The idea of a skier drinking - who would have thought.
Is is the remarks or might they be concerned that all the other skiers fill bad that they lost to a drunk guy.
And so Marolt is traveling to Switzerland to "work with him [Miller] to both recognize the seriousness of his comments and to reach a positive outcome."
Work with him? What does that mean? Beat him into submission. This is inconvenient. According to President Bush, the US doesn't torture...but the US Ski Team...well, that's another story.
Is is the remarks or might they be concerned that all the other skiers fill bad that they lost to a drunk guy.
And so Marolt is traveling to Switzerland to "work with him [Miller] to both recognize the seriousness of his comments and to reach a positive outcome."
Work with him? What does that mean? Beat him into submission. This is inconvenient. According to President Bush, the US doesn't torture...but the US Ski Team...well, that's another story.
Friday, October 28, 2005
Iran, Russia, Israel, The United Nations, and 100 Virgin Nurses..
Be prepared, this one is weird... Drawing from recent news and in particular, this story on MSNBC:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/9823624/
I bring you this mildly truthful socio-political commentary:
A sweaty and nervous ambassador from Iran, Tehran Tom – formerly known as Bagdad Bob – speaking from the steps of the Iranian embassy in Moscow said, “Mr. Ahmadinejad did not have any intention to speak up in such sharp terms and enter into a conflict."
The ambassador was speaking in response to world community's condemnation for the Iranian President's comments at the recent, "The World Without Zionism" Conference and Soccer Match.
Tehran Tom explained further, “When he said that Israel should be wiped off the map, he only meant the people. We still want the land and buildings.”
Frothy-mouthed Iranians are turning out by the thousands with signs that read, “Death to Israel, Death to America.” Small wording at the bottom reads, “Brought to you by the United Nations – making pronouncements with no action for 60 years.”
“It’s toothpaste, hee hee – the stuff around their mouths.. toothpaste” – the ambassador in Moscow indicated with a nervous giggle, “we Iranians are fanatical…about oral hygiene.”
Russia has demanded an explanation from its key ally in the Middle East. In a telephone call to Russian President Putin, the Iranian leader, speaking very slowly said, “DO I HAVE TO SPEAK IN BIG LETTERS FOR YOU. I WANT TO BLOW THE FREAKIN’ JEWS UP! HELLLLOOO!!!! PUT DOWN THE SMIRNOFF AND PULL THAT STUPID FUZZY HAT AWAY FROM YOUR EARS! WHAT’S TO EXPLAIN?”
Apparently Putin understood as he nodded his head slowly and said, “Oh… okay… we tried that years ago. Have at it buddy. By the way, we have a bunch of old nukes lying around. Know anyone who wants ‘em? I need a couple bucks - the wife and kids ya know.”
The two then planned an excursion to Amsterdam – booking a shared room with a monstrous pink heart-shaped bed at a "hotel" called, “They Martyr’s Reward.” Heidi Fleiss, who has long since kept a separate black book - "The Kinky Koran” – with the names of several devout radical Muslims has arranged for a hundred virgins to join them in their visit.
“They are nurses. It’s purely platonic. I mean, Mr. Ahmadinejad is a devout Muslim. He wouldn’t been cavorting with whores, now would he? He is a deeply religious man – one of god’s chosen – you know. Oh, and I run a dating service.”
Some basic investigation found that the entire visit will be funded by the UN’s new Oil for Bombs Program. Kofi Annan, the Secretary-General of the UN, could not be reached for comment. He is currently on the UN Yacht, “The U.S.O.A Paid For This”, somewhere off the Cayman Islands on a humanitarian relief effort. We understand that he is concerned about the treatment of the local nude sunbathers. He’s packing lots of penicillin as well – concerned about Bird Flu or Strep Throat, I guess.
“Mr. Ahmadinejad is risking a lot by his statements. If he doesn’t stop, we won’t comp his coffee in the UN cafeteria. He’ll have to pay for it, just like the rest of the third-world nations do. And that’s not the worst of it. He’s risking losing his week at the UN timeshare in Vail Colorado. We’ll just go auction that puppy off on E-bay.”
Note to reader:
Okay, I took some writer’s license with this one. Some of the above is a slightly fictionalized account of what actually took place.
I truly appreciate the Iranian embassy in Moscow taking the time to clarify the Iranian Sociopath’s ur, President’s remarks. We all feel a lot better now.
The whole story makes you feel a little sorry for Russia. When your key ally in the Middle East is run by a slightly unbalanced fanatic and you are supporting their right to build a completely peaceful nuclear power plant, your invoices from Madison Avenue must be exorbitant.
The other thing I wonder about is why it’s always an embassy outside the country trying to clarify the leader’s “misunderstood” remarks. Why not have the leader clarify his remarks. I have an inkling as to why… Mr. Ahmadinejad handlers are still trying to explain to him that the little switch on the microphone was an on/off switch.
I have to imagine that right after his comments, the prez of Iran turned to the sound booth and mouthed, “Dammit, did everyone hear that? This one’s gonna be hard to explain!”
The entire thing makes me sick and sad. I like Kabob and spicy rice and I can only feel it may be hard to come by real soon. It was easier dealing with the Cold War because you knew that the Russian Communists just wanted world conquest. They didn't believe that killing everyone, including their own people, would be doing them a favor and sending the "good" one's to heaven.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/9823624/
I bring you this mildly truthful socio-political commentary:
A sweaty and nervous ambassador from Iran, Tehran Tom – formerly known as Bagdad Bob – speaking from the steps of the Iranian embassy in Moscow said, “Mr. Ahmadinejad did not have any intention to speak up in such sharp terms and enter into a conflict."
The ambassador was speaking in response to world community's condemnation for the Iranian President's comments at the recent, "The World Without Zionism" Conference and Soccer Match.
"Hey, who broke the American Flag Ball?
If you can't play nicely, there's the door."
If you can't play nicely, there's the door."
Tehran Tom explained further, “When he said that Israel should be wiped off the map, he only meant the people. We still want the land and buildings.”
Frothy-mouthed Iranians are turning out by the thousands with signs that read, “Death to Israel, Death to America.” Small wording at the bottom reads, “Brought to you by the United Nations – making pronouncements with no action for 60 years.”
“It’s toothpaste, hee hee – the stuff around their mouths.. toothpaste” – the ambassador in Moscow indicated with a nervous giggle, “we Iranians are fanatical…about oral hygiene.”
Russia has demanded an explanation from its key ally in the Middle East. In a telephone call to Russian President Putin, the Iranian leader, speaking very slowly said, “DO I HAVE TO SPEAK IN BIG LETTERS FOR YOU. I WANT TO BLOW THE FREAKIN’ JEWS UP! HELLLLOOO!!!! PUT DOWN THE SMIRNOFF AND PULL THAT STUPID FUZZY HAT AWAY FROM YOUR EARS! WHAT’S TO EXPLAIN?”
Apparently Putin understood as he nodded his head slowly and said, “Oh… okay… we tried that years ago. Have at it buddy. By the way, we have a bunch of old nukes lying around. Know anyone who wants ‘em? I need a couple bucks - the wife and kids ya know.”
The two then planned an excursion to Amsterdam – booking a shared room with a monstrous pink heart-shaped bed at a "hotel" called, “They Martyr’s Reward.” Heidi Fleiss, who has long since kept a separate black book - "The Kinky Koran” – with the names of several devout radical Muslims has arranged for a hundred virgins to join them in their visit.
“They are nurses. It’s purely platonic. I mean, Mr. Ahmadinejad is a devout Muslim. He wouldn’t been cavorting with whores, now would he? He is a deeply religious man – one of god’s chosen – you know. Oh, and I run a dating service.”
Some basic investigation found that the entire visit will be funded by the UN’s new Oil for Bombs Program. Kofi Annan, the Secretary-General of the UN, could not be reached for comment. He is currently on the UN Yacht, “The U.S.O.A Paid For This”, somewhere off the Cayman Islands on a humanitarian relief effort. We understand that he is concerned about the treatment of the local nude sunbathers. He’s packing lots of penicillin as well – concerned about Bird Flu or Strep Throat, I guess.
The UN's 60th Anniversary Logo
and here are the logo usage guidelines.
A UN spokesperson indicated that swift-action would be forthcoming, using the harshest UN language possible.
“Mr. Ahmadinejad is risking a lot by his statements. If he doesn’t stop, we won’t comp his coffee in the UN cafeteria. He’ll have to pay for it, just like the rest of the third-world nations do. And that’s not the worst of it. He’s risking losing his week at the UN timeshare in Vail Colorado. We’ll just go auction that puppy off on E-bay.”
Note to reader:
Okay, I took some writer’s license with this one. Some of the above is a slightly fictionalized account of what actually took place.
I truly appreciate the Iranian embassy in Moscow taking the time to clarify the Iranian Sociopath’s ur, President’s remarks. We all feel a lot better now.
The whole story makes you feel a little sorry for Russia. When your key ally in the Middle East is run by a slightly unbalanced fanatic and you are supporting their right to build a completely peaceful nuclear power plant, your invoices from Madison Avenue must be exorbitant.
The other thing I wonder about is why it’s always an embassy outside the country trying to clarify the leader’s “misunderstood” remarks. Why not have the leader clarify his remarks. I have an inkling as to why… Mr. Ahmadinejad handlers are still trying to explain to him that the little switch on the microphone was an on/off switch.
I have to imagine that right after his comments, the prez of Iran turned to the sound booth and mouthed, “Dammit, did everyone hear that? This one’s gonna be hard to explain!”
The entire thing makes me sick and sad. I like Kabob and spicy rice and I can only feel it may be hard to come by real soon. It was easier dealing with the Cold War because you knew that the Russian Communists just wanted world conquest. They didn't believe that killing everyone, including their own people, would be doing them a favor and sending the "good" one's to heaven.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
I ran from Iran when the fighting began...
It can be interesting seeing the interwoven fabric of news. I noticed all of these stories this morning.
These are logged under the Truth is scarier than a Tom Clancy novel section.
Assault on Kuma - Iran does not like this game
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/9807803/
Israel spying in New Zealand
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/9822903/
Iran's president wants Israel wiped off the map
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/9823624/
Israel stops push to have Hamas banned from elections
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/9800898/
Let's see how this all plays out.
The United Nations will rush forward with their usual rapid response. They will universally condemn Israel for spying - levying sanctions against the Zionist aggressor, ask for sanctions against the US company for making a warlike game - boosting profits for the company, Hamas will take part in the elections in Palestine - not like the outcome and kill some people, and the United Nations will give the president of Iran a lecture and severe finger wagging. That'll show him.
Will someone explain to Iran that if you want to build a nuclear "power plant" that it is best not to talk about the total annihilation of a nearby country during the construction phase. Some people might worry about missing fuel rods and such.
Iran's president, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, needs to learn a lesson or two on tact.
For instance, he could say something like, "We are ready to work with the Zionist dogs... uh, I mean Israel. We hope to use them as a partner in disposing of the waste from our Nuclear "Power Plant."
Personal note to Mahmoud: You must resist the urge to start giggling or winking until the cameras turn off.
Iran delivering spent fuel rods to the Zionist pigs - uh, I mean "Israel, our partner in cleaner power."
It's good to see Iran cooperating.
Personally, I won't charge him anything for my public relations consulting/training.
It's a freebie..
Saturday, September 17, 2005
Writer defined, the search for the silver bullet, and stroking the muse...
“Now as far as the customers can tell
He’s just one more fool who talks to himself
But every man in the place would line up
If they new what that seat really was
Cuz to the casual eye it’s a barstool
But it's really much more than it seems
A few drinks and then, she’ll be with him again
As he sits on the time machine”
- Collin Raye – The Time Machine
Just a thought or two here. I have been contacted by and been in contact with a few aspiring writers. I am being careful here. Two of them in particular claim to be writers. I keep meeting mutual acquaintances who tell me, “Matt, you should talk to _____, they are a writer too.”
However, in speaking to them, I have gleaned that each has ideas about wanting to write but spends no time doing it. They do spend a lot of time talking about how hard it is and the quixotic writers life (lack of funds and appreciation for their artistic talent – blah, blah, blah) but no words as of yet.
Which got me thinking. Should there be some reading this who want to write, take this to heart. And should you have no interest in writing, apply it to that thing that you want do be and do. Should you have nothing that you want to be or do...sorry, can’t help ya.
A writer – in this writer's humble opinion – is someone who writes.
It is likely, that to be that thing, you must do the thing that that thing does.
Call me crazy but I am convinced that the noun is wrapped up in the verb. You are not one if you are not doing the other.
I’m not standing on a high-horse, per se. But I ceased attending writer’s critique and “support” groups. There were too many people who showed up every week with the same lackluster effort – NONE!
Please understand, I am empathetic – but only slightly so. I spent years wanting to be a writer. From the time I was very young and when I met my wife – it is all I wanted to be. But wanting to be something and actually doing and being something are two very different things.
Life got in the way, as life is want to do, and I pursued other interest. No sad violins here, I liked what I did and learned valuable lessons on life, business, marketing, and promotion. I experienced success, failure, love, and heartbreak - all good fodder for a writer. Later, however, upon evaluating my life, I discovered that something critical was missing…writing.
A key turning point was when my wife handed me Stephen King’s book, “On Writing”. He breaks things down to a no-nonsense, schedule a time and do some heavy lifting, type of approach. It has been pivotal in my production.
If you are anything like me, you have scoured bookshelves looking for that silver-bullet on writing. That book that illuminates that missing piece. Idea books, writer’s soul books, how to make a million as an author books, and everything in between. You read them hoping to glean the secret and in each case, walking away feeling used and abandoned.
It is not that I am against books on writing. In fact, I am currently re-reading Lawrence Block’s book, “Telling Lies For Fun & Profit.” It is a classic and I highly recommend it.
After scouring bookshelves for quite some time (something I still occasionally do - you can always hope, can't you) I realized that what Mr. King writes about in “On Writing” is true. There is no silver bullet and your muse, she’s a fickle bitch! Or should your muse be a man, whatever a man bitch is supposed to be called. Whatever your term du jour is, I know something about your muse. She won’t show up when you want her to.
And doesn’t it make you crazy when you can’t find her? Because you know she’s off with someone else – jealous is more than a green monster, it’s got some real talons too!
In light of that fact, schedule a time – same time, same place, every day, so she knows where to find you when she finally decides to give you that finger massage. Short of that moment, assume she ain’t a comin’, she’s found a new lover, and that your writing is up to you.
Upon reading that book, I determined to become a writer. The next step was pretty simple…write something.
My first article – for publication – was completed a week later. My second, a week or so after that. My first article was actually my most lucrative in pure dollars, a recent article the most lucrative in time to write ($750 at one frantic, short-notice, 45 minute session). I should write "How To Make $1,000 An Hour Writing Articles."
But Stephen King's book, as good as it is, was not the silver bullet! It couldn’t be. I already told you that there are no silver bullets.
For me, the book was a gun-to-the-head, my-kids-are-gettin’-older, and those-wrinkles-on-your-face-are-only-going-to-multiply-until-they-bury-you realization that time is – as Mr. King’s character in Hearts In Atlantis quoting Ben Johnson says - “the old bald cheater.”
I got a little wiggy about it. I determined that I must get published and do so quickly. Not articles but a book. While I was, by my own twisted perception, a relatively normal, if not overly sensitive kid (My brothers call this being a crybaby but we’ll save that story for another time), I have always been fascinated by someone who could put words together into a book.
They (authors) were, and still are, my heroes. For me, they carry an almost mythical quality. Even someone who has written a bad book – poor in quality – has completed something that many who assume they have more talent, have failed to do.
In “Telling Lies” Block sites a cartoon where an adult is speaking to a sullen child, saying, “It is not enough to be a genius, Arnold. You have to be a genius at something.”
Whether it was Edgar Rice Borroughs, Edgar Allan Poe, John Steinbeck, Elmore Leonard, Ursulu LeGuin, Michael Moorcock, Tolkien, HP Lovecraft (especially HP Lovecraft) or any of the myriad of other authors whose books adorned my shelves, I felt these were my heroes. A clever play on words or an image or story that makes you wish – and feel that it is true – that is pure magic.
And so I proceeded to write book content. I actually had a editor show some initial interest in my first book, The IT Career Builder’s Toolkit, but the production schedule we discussed was a tad long. I couldn’t wait and I nixed any future talk of a deal. I self-published the book and sold some copies off my website or gave it away when I spoke.
There are many authors who, upon hearing I walked away from a publisher who was actually speaking to me, believe me to be insane. They are, by most accounts, correct. But I didn’t realize that getting a publishing deal was supposed to be difficult. It never occurred to me.
Then, in 2004, a copy of my so-so edited and poorly formatted book was purchased by a woman in San Francisco. I sent it off with my standard thank you letter and moved on. Two weeks later I received an email from Mary Beth Ray, an executive editor at Cisco Press. She wanted to speak with Matthew Moran. That would be me.
I called her and she explained that she had purchased my book – the woman in San Francisco – and that she liked it and wanted to publish it!!! She had found an article I had written on techies.com (an interesting story and relationship with them could go right here) which led her to my site and to my book.
So that is how an author does it? You simply get discovered while sitting around…
Well, not exactly. I wasn’t sitting around. It actually worked somewhat like I wanted it to. I wanted to be published and felt that a body of work in some fairly noticable places – my articles – could produce an interest in my writing. Mary Beth wanted a career book for technology pros and was looking for a potential author – one who had some articles to his credit – and lo and behold she found an author and a book. Lucky her, eh?
That is why I place Mary Beth in similar standing with my Wife, my mother, and my Aunt Bev in Canada. They are the four woman who have had a lasting and positive impact on my life. My mom gave me life and put up with this non-stop talking kid who became a non-stop talking adult. Aunt Bev taught me about having a girlfriend – someone you love but who is also your best friend – she was my first (hey, when your 10 years old and a pretty girl gives you attention and piggyback rides…). My wife became that friend that my Aunt Bev taught me to look for – sharing the life my mom gave me and feeding that life daily, a living breathing muse. And Mary Beth, she gave my life a rebirth. She is a sort of surrogate Mom – but younger.
I believe Mary Beth squirms a bit at this place of prominence I’ve placed her – but for someone who wants to be a published writer – really, really, bad – having an editor discover you and tell you that you are a “good writer” is intoxicating.
Now I am writing (behind schedule – sorry Mary Beth) my next book, The Technology Consultants Toolkit. I cranked out most of 4 chapters in the past couple days. I want to get back on schedule.
In fact, the other night as I frantically added a final two paragraphs before running to get my daughter from acting rehearsal, I thought to myself – “Matt, you are a writer!!”
Do you want to know how I know?
Because I had proof. It wasn’t the sore fingertips I had developed from hammering them on the keyboard.
It was that writer’s time warp where I lost two hours of my life in words. A time warp where a blank computer screen becomes 3000 words in 120 minutes. Two-hours that I gladly give up to that magical moment when your computer screen fills your vision and the rest of the world fades into some distant white noise.
If you’ve gone to that place before, it’s a heavy trip. No over the counter meds can match it and that stuff you smoked with your friends in the alley back in high-school doesn’t even come close. It is like swallowing the worm - way over the edge.
Some people call that focus and you see it in your kids when they are watching Sponge Bob. You call them and they cannot hear you. Turning off the TV causes an almost tragic spasmodic reaction, as though you had just cut off their source of oxygen.
And my friend, you have! Turn off that TV and you cut off that digital morphine drip – the kid’s going to go through withdrawals. Nothing contrived, nothing made up, it’s the real deal. It hurts!
To the non-writer, that’s just Matt zoning out but I know the truth. I’ve been sleeping with my muse! She may be fickle but moments like that are worth the heartache – and I’m in love…crazy love!
So if you want to be a writer…write! If your muse has another name, another face, make sure you are at the parties that she attends – or else my friend, she is going home with someone else. If she goes home with someone else, you had better sit down and write something through the pain. I’ve discovered that she finds that attractive and she’ll leave that other SOB as soon as he stops stroking her.
If you don’t write and you are wondering where your muse is, she’s with me and my busy fingers.
Are you jealous? You should be!
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Abusive and Hostile and the NCAA
The NCAA recently reversed a decision regarding the Florida Seminoles using the name of an Indian tribe for their football team. They had previously said any college using an American Indian name or likeness was being abusive and hostile toward that group. I agree. Pretty insensitive but they only touched the tip of the ice berg.
I find “Fighting Irish” offensive. I’m Irish but in the immortal words of Michael Jackson – “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
With that in mind I believe the NCAA needs to take their recent decision about American Indian..uh Native American… - or fill in the “group name du jour” right here __ - names a little further.
While I personally find “Fighting Irish” to be abusive and hostile – and I’ll beat the hell out of any one who thinks differently – I am sure there are other groups that are also not being considered.
I’ve compiled a very short list. Chances are you could add to it.
UCLA Bruins
Bears aren’t even allowed to live in LA – certainly not Bel Air – just north of UCLA. Sure, they have dogs, weasels, and rats (mostly in the legal and movie industries) but no bears.
USC Trojans:
Do we even need to bring this one up. I mean, I think safe sex is important and all but I don’t think we need a condom for a mascot. It’s just a little creepy and gross if you ask me.
Oregon Ducks
Any football team that has as its mascot a duck deserves to be on the list as abusive.
Nebraska Cornhuskers
Uh, Cornhusker – I had to look this up because it seemed, well, weird.
Cornhusker: n. Someone who husks corn. Hmm... Well that was helpful. Let’s try again.
Husks: v. remove the husks from corn. Oh what the hell is going here… come on. Did they just use the word being defined in the definition. Dammit, I hate when that happens. Let’s look again.
Husks: (not husks the verb but husks the noun) n. outer membranous covering of some fruits or seeds.
Ah, a Cornhusker is someone who husks (removes) the husks (outer membranous covering) of corn.
Wait, I had to look up a noun that referred to a verb of the same name that referred to a noun of the very same name. Who wrote this stupid language – the English I bet.
Okay, just because of the definition of Cornhusker, the Cornhusker’s name is not only abusive but its stupid too! Just the kind of mascot to strike fear into their opponents. Some matronly old farmer’s wife peeling corn to throw into a pot – ooh, I’m a shakin’
I went and found a whole conference that is abusive and hostile.
The Big East. Okay, I’m lying. They are my favorite conference. Look at their logo.
It is too small, my eyes or bad, or it is smudged on the left side but to me, the word "Big" looks really like "BR" – kind of. The shape of the logo subliminally reinforces this. Really, when I first looked at it, that is what I saw. "Breast Conference"
I thought, “Holy Cow!!! How did I miss this conference? Is it new? What do the cheerleaders look like?” Then I realized my gaff..but too late, the damage was done.
I will forever know the Big East Conference as the Breast Conference…and now, so will you.
And believe me, don’t I know that I need sensitivity training.
Back to the Fighting Irish. Being Irish and knowing that many have the propensity to fight…about anything…I don’t really mind the name. I just wish it more accurately reflected our group better.
Maybe it could be amended to be…
The drunken, stubborn, misunderstand-what-someone-says-because-you-are-so-blitzed-so-you-start-Fighting Irish.
But there is no help for those Oregon Ducks.
I find “Fighting Irish” offensive. I’m Irish but in the immortal words of Michael Jackson – “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
With that in mind I believe the NCAA needs to take their recent decision about American Indian..uh Native American… - or fill in the “group name du jour” right here __ - names a little further.
While I personally find “Fighting Irish” to be abusive and hostile – and I’ll beat the hell out of any one who thinks differently – I am sure there are other groups that are also not being considered.
I’ve compiled a very short list. Chances are you could add to it.
UCLA Bruins
Bears aren’t even allowed to live in LA – certainly not Bel Air – just north of UCLA. Sure, they have dogs, weasels, and rats (mostly in the legal and movie industries) but no bears.
USC Trojans:
Do we even need to bring this one up. I mean, I think safe sex is important and all but I don’t think we need a condom for a mascot. It’s just a little creepy and gross if you ask me.
Oregon Ducks
Any football team that has as its mascot a duck deserves to be on the list as abusive.
Nebraska Cornhuskers
Uh, Cornhusker – I had to look this up because it seemed, well, weird.
Cornhusker: n. Someone who husks corn. Hmm... Well that was helpful. Let’s try again.
Husks: v. remove the husks from corn. Oh what the hell is going here… come on. Did they just use the word being defined in the definition. Dammit, I hate when that happens. Let’s look again.
Husks: (not husks the verb but husks the noun) n. outer membranous covering of some fruits or seeds.
Ah, a Cornhusker is someone who husks (removes) the husks (outer membranous covering) of corn.
Wait, I had to look up a noun that referred to a verb of the same name that referred to a noun of the very same name. Who wrote this stupid language – the English I bet.
Okay, just because of the definition of Cornhusker, the Cornhusker’s name is not only abusive but its stupid too! Just the kind of mascot to strike fear into their opponents. Some matronly old farmer’s wife peeling corn to throw into a pot – ooh, I’m a shakin’
I went and found a whole conference that is abusive and hostile.
The Big East. Okay, I’m lying. They are my favorite conference. Look at their logo.
It is too small, my eyes or bad, or it is smudged on the left side but to me, the word "Big" looks really like "BR" – kind of. The shape of the logo subliminally reinforces this. Really, when I first looked at it, that is what I saw. "Breast Conference"
I thought, “Holy Cow!!! How did I miss this conference? Is it new? What do the cheerleaders look like?” Then I realized my gaff..but too late, the damage was done.
I will forever know the Big East Conference as the Breast Conference…and now, so will you.
And believe me, don’t I know that I need sensitivity training.
Back to the Fighting Irish. Being Irish and knowing that many have the propensity to fight…about anything…I don’t really mind the name. I just wish it more accurately reflected our group better.
Maybe it could be amended to be…
The drunken, stubborn, misunderstand-what-someone-says-because-you-are-so-blitzed-so-you-start-Fighting Irish.
But there is no help for those Oregon Ducks.
What is he trying to say? Why I’ll kick his $%&!!
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/8914760/
A recent study found that men whose masculinity was threatened overcompensated in later studies.
Uh… durr!!! The real question is who paid for this study?
I know personally that when my wife mocks me because I am wearing her pink panties that I always take them off and exchange them for the white ones with ruffles. I mean, I don’t want to be taken for a sissy!
Read back to my earlier entry about my pink flowery garment bag. I didn’t shave for 2 days after enduring those mocking looks and derisive glances. When I finally got around to it, my Epilady Two could hardly remove the manly bristles on my neck and face.
Seriously. I thought this was a funny story. Two key points that stood out. The overcompensating men were more inclined to show homophobic tendencies and to show a desire to purchase SUVs. I can tell you that I am not homophobic – I just prefer non-fat milk.
However, there are times that I pretend my Dodge Caravan is a raised black Excursion. To get the full effect, I fill my tank with gas and spray another 20 gallons all over the ground. Then I drive around until I find some kid on a bicycle, pretend he is a full-sized car, and cut him off.
More seriously however, was this little ditty.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/8901143/
Basically, it says that 1 in 25 wives have been unfaithful and you (as a man) might be raising another’s child.
CLUE: If you and your wife are Caucasian and the child is African-American, Asian, or Hispanic – it’s probably not a recessive gene on your wife’s side of the family. Don’t let her pull that one over on you.
I don’t know how the odds skew but having four kids, I am figuring that there is a pretty good chance that one or more of those little rats running around my house isn't mine.
I was going to take it up with Laura but she was busy having dinner with the mailman. She tells me she is just fascinated with male men – which I understand accounts for a lot of them.
But hey, it doesn’t impact my masculinity. I’m comfortable with all of it. Just ask my tattoo artist. I explained the whole thing to him while he tattooed a cliched barbed-wire arm band across my bicep. I don’t know if he heard me because we had the Nascar race turned up so high.
Well, I have to go now. I just bought a new tool belt and decided to build a room addition…right after my soap.
A recent study found that men whose masculinity was threatened overcompensated in later studies.
Uh… durr!!! The real question is who paid for this study?
I know personally that when my wife mocks me because I am wearing her pink panties that I always take them off and exchange them for the white ones with ruffles. I mean, I don’t want to be taken for a sissy!
Read back to my earlier entry about my pink flowery garment bag. I didn’t shave for 2 days after enduring those mocking looks and derisive glances. When I finally got around to it, my Epilady Two could hardly remove the manly bristles on my neck and face.
Seriously. I thought this was a funny story. Two key points that stood out. The overcompensating men were more inclined to show homophobic tendencies and to show a desire to purchase SUVs. I can tell you that I am not homophobic – I just prefer non-fat milk.
However, there are times that I pretend my Dodge Caravan is a raised black Excursion. To get the full effect, I fill my tank with gas and spray another 20 gallons all over the ground. Then I drive around until I find some kid on a bicycle, pretend he is a full-sized car, and cut him off.
More seriously however, was this little ditty.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/8901143/
Basically, it says that 1 in 25 wives have been unfaithful and you (as a man) might be raising another’s child.
CLUE: If you and your wife are Caucasian and the child is African-American, Asian, or Hispanic – it’s probably not a recessive gene on your wife’s side of the family. Don’t let her pull that one over on you.
I don’t know how the odds skew but having four kids, I am figuring that there is a pretty good chance that one or more of those little rats running around my house isn't mine.
I was going to take it up with Laura but she was busy having dinner with the mailman. She tells me she is just fascinated with male men – which I understand accounts for a lot of them.
But hey, it doesn’t impact my masculinity. I’m comfortable with all of it. Just ask my tattoo artist. I explained the whole thing to him while he tattooed a cliched barbed-wire arm band across my bicep. I don’t know if he heard me because we had the Nascar race turned up so high.
Well, I have to go now. I just bought a new tool belt and decided to build a room addition…right after my soap.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Of laptops, wives, messenger, and marriage...
My wife got a laptop recently.
For those of you who are high-tech, it has a Celeron processor – but don’t tell her they aren’t as good as the true Intel Pentium Chip. She primarily does email, writes in Word, and logs on to MSN Messenger to send messages to my laptop while I am sitting in the other room.
Yes, you heard me correct.
I’m glad for it, though. It is already producing amazing results in our marriage.
They tell you that communication is key to a marriage and I agree. Speaking through messenger should be required for all marriage counseling. First, it keeps messages brief. Particularly because my wife is not the fastest typist. She’s pretty fast but she types in this semi-hunt-n-peck, 3 finger, “I took typing in school but didn’t use it for the past 15 years” style.
When I say 3 fingers I mean it. She uses both pointer fingers but occasionally she uses her ring finger on one hand. It’s kind of weird to watch and as she does it, her eyes are darting quickly between her keyboard and her screen. Much of her time is spent looking at the keyboard and this often results in all her typing being capitalized because she will hit the caplocks key instead of shift.
It must be very tiring – the eyes moving back and forth – the overuse of those three fingers. But her pinkies are very well rested – they never do anything. I have this image of her hands developing an odd lopsided shape to them - large over-developed muscles on her typing fingers and atrophy of the remaining fingers.
This means her messages to me take time – which means I can do other things while she is typing. Because she is in the other room, I can’t be accused of not listening to her.
Her messages are short and two the point – no pouty lips or eyes to make me feel guilty for my inability to read her mind. And they are devoid of emotionalism. Sure, she ads the occasional emoticon but really, it is hard to take a small orb creature with bambi eyes very seriously – even if it is red and looks angry.
I usually reply with a sorry and something like this.
While sorry seems to be the hardest word, I can say it on messenger pretty easily. I'm so detached that I can pretend that I am sorry, add a broken heart or sad emoticon and she is satisfied. In the mean time, while she is typing a response, I can get back to the important things in life.
More significant is that I can augment my own looks. I can be virtually anyone. I clean up real well on MSN Messenger. See, here is my latest transformation.
Before
After
We even played Wheel of Fortune the past two days – my darling wife summarily whipped me several times. She asked during the game whether it was weird that we were in two different rooms of the same house, talking and playing a game across the Internet.
I told her that it was perfectly normal – and added a smiling emoticon to convince her. But it’s weird, plain and simple, and that is just the way I like it.
And so, I will continue to chat with my wife so we can LOL and ROFL at our witty exchanges and inside jokes.
Until then, TTYL.
For those of you who are high-tech, it has a Celeron processor – but don’t tell her they aren’t as good as the true Intel Pentium Chip. She primarily does email, writes in Word, and logs on to MSN Messenger to send messages to my laptop while I am sitting in the other room.
Yes, you heard me correct.
I’m glad for it, though. It is already producing amazing results in our marriage.
They tell you that communication is key to a marriage and I agree. Speaking through messenger should be required for all marriage counseling. First, it keeps messages brief. Particularly because my wife is not the fastest typist. She’s pretty fast but she types in this semi-hunt-n-peck, 3 finger, “I took typing in school but didn’t use it for the past 15 years” style.
When I say 3 fingers I mean it. She uses both pointer fingers but occasionally she uses her ring finger on one hand. It’s kind of weird to watch and as she does it, her eyes are darting quickly between her keyboard and her screen. Much of her time is spent looking at the keyboard and this often results in all her typing being capitalized because she will hit the caplocks key instead of shift.
It must be very tiring – the eyes moving back and forth – the overuse of those three fingers. But her pinkies are very well rested – they never do anything. I have this image of her hands developing an odd lopsided shape to them - large over-developed muscles on her typing fingers and atrophy of the remaining fingers.
This means her messages to me take time – which means I can do other things while she is typing. Because she is in the other room, I can’t be accused of not listening to her.
Her messages are short and two the point – no pouty lips or eyes to make me feel guilty for my inability to read her mind. And they are devoid of emotionalism. Sure, she ads the occasional emoticon but really, it is hard to take a small orb creature with bambi eyes very seriously – even if it is red and looks angry.
I usually reply with a sorry and something like this.
While sorry seems to be the hardest word, I can say it on messenger pretty easily. I'm so detached that I can pretend that I am sorry, add a broken heart or sad emoticon and she is satisfied. In the mean time, while she is typing a response, I can get back to the important things in life.More significant is that I can augment my own looks. I can be virtually anyone. I clean up real well on MSN Messenger. See, here is my latest transformation.
Before
After
We even played Wheel of Fortune the past two days – my darling wife summarily whipped me several times. She asked during the game whether it was weird that we were in two different rooms of the same house, talking and playing a game across the Internet.
I told her that it was perfectly normal – and added a smiling emoticon to convince her. But it’s weird, plain and simple, and that is just the way I like it.
And so, I will continue to chat with my wife so we can LOL and ROFL at our witty exchanges and inside jokes.
Until then, TTYL.
Monday, July 04, 2005
The Joy Of Writing
I was sitting down today to do some writing – actually a lot of writing. It is July 4, 2005.
Writing on a national holiday? Yes, and enjoying it. I was up today at 4:00am to get started and basically used the time to organize some notes for my next book for Cisco Press. I wrote the bulk of the first chapter between 4:30 and 6:00 and am planning on doing the second and perhaps third chapters today as well. I want to get ahead on my schedule. This, I am certain, will make my editor very happy.
Recently, I was in Vegas for an authors reception. The event, Networkers, is Cisco Systems big yahoo each year. Vendors, training, etc. My publisher has a big presence there and it was an opportunity to meet people with whom I have traded emails and some phone conversation. Now, many of them will have actual faces.
I flew out for a day – not really attending the conference, but for an authors reception at the hotel. It was fun and allowed me to personally thank many people who have made this such an enjoyable trip – the writing process, I mean.
I did find out that many of their authors have no desire to write. In fact, I’m a bit of an anomaly for them. Because so much of what they do is technical, my material is more loose and fun. It allows them to spread their publishing wings. So the relationship is a bit symbiotic in that regard. We get some great stuff from each other.
I get a large, reputable publisher who is willing to put up with my quirkiness and stories to get their product. They get an author who actually likes writing – sitting down and creating content – words on paper. They don’t have to prompt me for ideas and they don’t have to prod me to produce. I like both.
I found the revelation that most of their authors are not really that interested in writing to be or coming up with new book ideas to be interesting. Why write? But I realize, with the positive impact my book has had on my career, that many of their current authors are in academia where the old adage, “Publish or Die!” is still true.
And so, with this blog, I want to once again, thank my publisher and editor for signing me on for a new book. It is in mornings like this that I find true joy! I put ideas on paper – and most of them seem decent. I’ll look it over later tonight and see if I still agree – but I suspect that I will.
Writing on a national holiday? Yes, and enjoying it. I was up today at 4:00am to get started and basically used the time to organize some notes for my next book for Cisco Press. I wrote the bulk of the first chapter between 4:30 and 6:00 and am planning on doing the second and perhaps third chapters today as well. I want to get ahead on my schedule. This, I am certain, will make my editor very happy.
Recently, I was in Vegas for an authors reception. The event, Networkers, is Cisco Systems big yahoo each year. Vendors, training, etc. My publisher has a big presence there and it was an opportunity to meet people with whom I have traded emails and some phone conversation. Now, many of them will have actual faces.
I flew out for a day – not really attending the conference, but for an authors reception at the hotel. It was fun and allowed me to personally thank many people who have made this such an enjoyable trip – the writing process, I mean.
I did find out that many of their authors have no desire to write. In fact, I’m a bit of an anomaly for them. Because so much of what they do is technical, my material is more loose and fun. It allows them to spread their publishing wings. So the relationship is a bit symbiotic in that regard. We get some great stuff from each other.
I get a large, reputable publisher who is willing to put up with my quirkiness and stories to get their product. They get an author who actually likes writing – sitting down and creating content – words on paper. They don’t have to prompt me for ideas and they don’t have to prod me to produce. I like both.
I found the revelation that most of their authors are not really that interested in writing to be or coming up with new book ideas to be interesting. Why write? But I realize, with the positive impact my book has had on my career, that many of their current authors are in academia where the old adage, “Publish or Die!” is still true.
And so, with this blog, I want to once again, thank my publisher and editor for signing me on for a new book. It is in mornings like this that I find true joy! I put ideas on paper – and most of them seem decent. I’ll look it over later tonight and see if I still agree – but I suspect that I will.
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
The Joy Of Reading
Today I was sitting in a Barnes & Noble reading the intro to Stephen King’s collection of short-stories – Everything’s Eventual. I like Stephen King. I like the way he writes. I like his slightly irreverent tone and the way he creates conversation, even in his essays.
His book, About Writing, was a major impetus in getting me off my procrastinating rear-end and onto my rear-end at the same time, same place, so that my muse could find me. I’ve recommended his book to several aspiring authors – most notably and recently, my daughter, Jessica.
In fact, I (sorry Mr. King) found Everything’s Eventual and Hearts In Atlantis in hard-cover on the Bargain Book table. I bought them both for $11 and change. That’s good hard-cover pricing. Not as good as the Library’s used book store – with suggested donations and no witnesses – but I have yet to find a King hardcover there.
So there I was, sipping my 1-sweet-and-low latte, reading the introduction to EE. In it, he is talking about his e-book experience and the fact that he gained notoriety for that, not because he had written a good story, but because he had utilized the dotcom medium. It bothered him some that many seemed to know a lot about the story but fewer knew the story itself.
He explained how businessmen in airports would approach him to sign a copy of their napkins for their wives. “My wife has read everything you’ve written.” Apparently, the men had read far less of his work. They had, he implies, had enough time for Covey’s Seven Habits and other business/motivation titles. Fiction, far less so.
But then this line, “Gotta hurry, gotta rush-rush, I got a heart attack due in about four years, and I want to be sure that I’m there to meet it with my 401(k) all in order when it shows up.”
I started laughing – the image of my days of wild-eyed business building, now replaced with my wild-eyed writing, firmly ensconced in my mind. I tried to suppress it. Mistake!
What I got instead was a half-snort, which resulted in a glob of saliva latte (a drink Starbucks has yet to capitalize on) making its way into my windpipe. This resulted in a sort of “ha-wheez-cough ha-wheez-hack” complete with body wracking contortions.
I was not the only person in this Barnes & Noble Café and as you can well imagine, my loud and ostentatious display of public suffocation was hard to miss. Most looked up and quickly looked away, leaving me to wonder later (not at the time, I was in distress but still laughing) what would have happened if I had hit the floor. Would they have simply acted as though my body wasn’t there?
One gentleman glared at me from his table. Apparently, I was rudely disrupting his frontal assault on his laptop. His rather disapproving eye held my public outburst in utter contempt. I don't know if it was my dying throes because I rather imagine he gained a level of pleasure from that. No, I believe it was the idea that I would laugh out loud while reading a book. That I would be so lost in what I read that my sense of surroundings diminished to almost nothing. Laughing out loud, and yes, even crying, are not that uncommon for me when I read.
His book, About Writing, was a major impetus in getting me off my procrastinating rear-end and onto my rear-end at the same time, same place, so that my muse could find me. I’ve recommended his book to several aspiring authors – most notably and recently, my daughter, Jessica.
In fact, I (sorry Mr. King) found Everything’s Eventual and Hearts In Atlantis in hard-cover on the Bargain Book table. I bought them both for $11 and change. That’s good hard-cover pricing. Not as good as the Library’s used book store – with suggested donations and no witnesses – but I have yet to find a King hardcover there.
So there I was, sipping my 1-sweet-and-low latte, reading the introduction to EE. In it, he is talking about his e-book experience and the fact that he gained notoriety for that, not because he had written a good story, but because he had utilized the dotcom medium. It bothered him some that many seemed to know a lot about the story but fewer knew the story itself.
He explained how businessmen in airports would approach him to sign a copy of their napkins for their wives. “My wife has read everything you’ve written.” Apparently, the men had read far less of his work. They had, he implies, had enough time for Covey’s Seven Habits and other business/motivation titles. Fiction, far less so.
But then this line, “Gotta hurry, gotta rush-rush, I got a heart attack due in about four years, and I want to be sure that I’m there to meet it with my 401(k) all in order when it shows up.”
I started laughing – the image of my days of wild-eyed business building, now replaced with my wild-eyed writing, firmly ensconced in my mind. I tried to suppress it. Mistake!
What I got instead was a half-snort, which resulted in a glob of saliva latte (a drink Starbucks has yet to capitalize on) making its way into my windpipe. This resulted in a sort of “ha-wheez-cough ha-wheez-hack” complete with body wracking contortions.
I was not the only person in this Barnes & Noble Café and as you can well imagine, my loud and ostentatious display of public suffocation was hard to miss. Most looked up and quickly looked away, leaving me to wonder later (not at the time, I was in distress but still laughing) what would have happened if I had hit the floor. Would they have simply acted as though my body wasn’t there?
One gentleman glared at me from his table. Apparently, I was rudely disrupting his frontal assault on his laptop. His rather disapproving eye held my public outburst in utter contempt. I don't know if it was my dying throes because I rather imagine he gained a level of pleasure from that. No, I believe it was the idea that I would laugh out loud while reading a book. That I would be so lost in what I read that my sense of surroundings diminished to almost nothing. Laughing out loud, and yes, even crying, are not that uncommon for me when I read.
I consider it a parenting success that my daughter, upon reading sections of Hearts In Atlantis, would come down for company. She would be beside herself and needed to express her anguish. My son Christopher read "Of Mice & Men" the other day. He's eleven. At the end, he came to me and simply asked, "Why?" and then cried. Not only was it precious, it was appropriate. I don't understand how you read something like that and not react in that way.
Graciously, at Barnes & Noble, one woman seemed to get it. She smiled knowingly.
“You go ahead,” her smile said, “laugh between the lines. That is how reading should be. Cry if you need to, too. The real world will be here when you get back anyway.”
And that is what reading does for me. Takes me away and makes me vested in the story, the character, or the author’s mood. That is what I strive for.
To that woman, thank you. To the man with his laptop… Go to the library if you want to concentrate. They don’t serve coffee so I won’t be choking in front of you.
But I will laugh when I need to.
Monday, May 02, 2005
Cannibalism, the latest diet fad
I've heard it said - even said it myself, that you are what you eat. But recent news has me thinking that the phrase is backwards. The amended version, you eat what you are.
First there was the Wendy’s issue. Okay, that turned out to be a hoax..but it got the ball rolling. It is as though every employee who is working at a food company wants to get in on the action – so to speak.
The last two stories involving human parts and food were pretty interesting.
The first was when someone found a slice of skin on his chicken sandwich…
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/7628784/
He bit into something chewy, removed it from his mouth, and saw that it had fingerprints. Let me rephrase that… it was fingerprints. The funniest part of the story is that authorities returned to the restaurant to investigate. The manager comes out to meet them…with a bandage on his hand. Case closed!
It turns out he got a little carried away while slicing lettuce. Or a little of him got carried away – in the lettuce bowl. He realized right away that he had cut part of his finger off but instead of tossing the lettuce, he simply sterilized the machine and surrounding area and carted the lettuce to the food preparation area.
This next one is even tastier – juicy – meaty
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/7714408/
Turns out a happy customer took his frozen yogurt home. He was scooping it out and found the finger. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell what it was, so HE PUT IT INTO HIS MOUTH TO CLEAN THE YOGURT OFF IT SO HE COULD SEE WHAT IT WAS!!!! Let that sink in for a moment.... He willingly placed the finger in his mouth and was sucking and licking – cleaning it off!
His tongue had to be rolling that finger around – moving it around his mouth. No, you have to really think about it to get the effect. If you’ve got some small carrots lying around, cover them up with ranch dressing and then put it into your mouth and clean the dressing off. The human mouth and tongue are amazingly adept at moving food around and basically, that is what this guy was doing…to a finger…a dismembered finger…
Here are his words…
“I thought it was candy because they put candy in your ice cream ... to make it a treat. So I said, ’OK, well, I’ll just put it in my mouth and get the ice cream off of it and see what it is.”’
Stowers said he spit the object out, but still couldn’t identify it. So he went to his kitchen, rinsed it off with water — and “just started screaming.”
I love the “to make it a treat.” Can you imagine. I mean, I think it’s gross when I take a sip of ice tea believing my wife had diet coke in her glass. Can you imagine having your mind all set on a candy treat but instead you get a finger!
What is curious about the Wendy’s story that was a hoax and this most recent ice-cream based story is that Wendy’s offered free ice cream to “lure” customers back after the bad PR of the finger incident. No really, here’s the story.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/7593511/
I can just imagine the Wendy's PR folks weeping..
It kind of makes you wonder what other items could make it into ice cream without you knowing it. Hmm?? This isn’t even hard – it doesn’t really take much imagination at all. Think about rocky road. You have marshmallows and nuts. Hard and soft items, chewy and crunchy. That leaves it wide open.
What I wonder about is what we’ve all eaten, completely on accident, over the course of our life. If body parts are falling into food prep this frequently, don’t you imagine that some of it makes it past our discerning pallets?
Are we all unwitting cannibals?
Chew on that for awhile…
First there was the Wendy’s issue. Okay, that turned out to be a hoax..but it got the ball rolling. It is as though every employee who is working at a food company wants to get in on the action – so to speak.
The last two stories involving human parts and food were pretty interesting.
The first was when someone found a slice of skin on his chicken sandwich…
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/7628784/
He bit into something chewy, removed it from his mouth, and saw that it had fingerprints. Let me rephrase that… it was fingerprints. The funniest part of the story is that authorities returned to the restaurant to investigate. The manager comes out to meet them…with a bandage on his hand. Case closed!
It turns out he got a little carried away while slicing lettuce. Or a little of him got carried away – in the lettuce bowl. He realized right away that he had cut part of his finger off but instead of tossing the lettuce, he simply sterilized the machine and surrounding area and carted the lettuce to the food preparation area.
This next one is even tastier – juicy – meaty
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/7714408/
Turns out a happy customer took his frozen yogurt home. He was scooping it out and found the finger. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell what it was, so HE PUT IT INTO HIS MOUTH TO CLEAN THE YOGURT OFF IT SO HE COULD SEE WHAT IT WAS!!!! Let that sink in for a moment.... He willingly placed the finger in his mouth and was sucking and licking – cleaning it off!
His tongue had to be rolling that finger around – moving it around his mouth. No, you have to really think about it to get the effect. If you’ve got some small carrots lying around, cover them up with ranch dressing and then put it into your mouth and clean the dressing off. The human mouth and tongue are amazingly adept at moving food around and basically, that is what this guy was doing…to a finger…a dismembered finger…
Here are his words…
“I thought it was candy because they put candy in your ice cream ... to make it a treat. So I said, ’OK, well, I’ll just put it in my mouth and get the ice cream off of it and see what it is.”’
Stowers said he spit the object out, but still couldn’t identify it. So he went to his kitchen, rinsed it off with water — and “just started screaming.”
I love the “to make it a treat.” Can you imagine. I mean, I think it’s gross when I take a sip of ice tea believing my wife had diet coke in her glass. Can you imagine having your mind all set on a candy treat but instead you get a finger!
What is curious about the Wendy’s story that was a hoax and this most recent ice-cream based story is that Wendy’s offered free ice cream to “lure” customers back after the bad PR of the finger incident. No really, here’s the story.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/7593511/
I can just imagine the Wendy's PR folks weeping..
It kind of makes you wonder what other items could make it into ice cream without you knowing it. Hmm?? This isn’t even hard – it doesn’t really take much imagination at all. Think about rocky road. You have marshmallows and nuts. Hard and soft items, chewy and crunchy. That leaves it wide open.
What I wonder about is what we’ve all eaten, completely on accident, over the course of our life. If body parts are falling into food prep this frequently, don’t you imagine that some of it makes it past our discerning pallets?
Are we all unwitting cannibals?
Chew on that for awhile…
Sunday, April 24, 2005
Roar! I’m a tiger!
In the "truth is stranger that fiction" category, we bring you this news item from MSNBC...
It’s no mystery that husbands have no recognition of breast as “feeding tubes” – having personally categorized them as “home entertainment systems.” We can tolerate our kids sharing the wealth, as it were – albeit for a short time – but other mammals taking a turn is a bit much. I mean, they aren’t even stoop-shouldered, knuckle-walkers.
At least with hominids I could have a customary jealous reaction but my emotional response to members of the large cat family might be hard to sort out.
It certainly brings a whole new meaning to the term “den mother.”
When asked his opinion of his surrogate mother’s “feeding tubes” the male tiger, affectionately known as Tony replied, “Theeyyy’rrrree GRRREEEEAATTT!!!”
Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for helping baby animals and all. My family has “nursed” a few back to health ourselves but I think I may have drawn the line if my wife had to personally NURSE them back to health.
It’s no mystery that husbands have no recognition of breast as “feeding tubes” – having personally categorized them as “home entertainment systems.” We can tolerate our kids sharing the wealth, as it were – albeit for a short time – but other mammals taking a turn is a bit much. I mean, they aren’t even stoop-shouldered, knuckle-walkers.
At least with hominids I could have a customary jealous reaction but my emotional response to members of the large cat family might be hard to sort out.
It certainly brings a whole new meaning to the term “den mother.”
When asked his opinion of his surrogate mother’s “feeding tubes” the male tiger, affectionately known as Tony replied, “Theeyyy’rrrree GRRREEEEAATTT!!!”
=================
Wendy's Finger Food Recap
In case you hadn't heard, the woman who reported finding a finger in her chili at Wendy's was arrested and the police believe it was a hoax. That is rather anti-climactic. What is interesting is the description of the chili in this story here:
2nd paragraph:
"...Ayala claimed she bit down a 1 1/2-inch finger in a mouthful of steamy chili on March 22."
Is "steamy chili" the formal name of the product or was the writer choosing an interesting time to add color to their narrative. Why not "delicious chili" or "mouth-watering chili?" I'm just curious..
Thanks, no time to write much more, check back later.
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Musings on Writing
This past week my book, The IT Career Builder’s Toolkit, was covered in the Midwest Book Review.
“A ‘must’ for any serious IT pro.” – Midwest Book Review
Here’s the entire review:
==========================
The IT Career Builder's Toolkit
Matthew Moran
Cisco Press
800 East 96th St., Indianapolis, IN 46240
1587131560 $29.95 ciscopress.com
Matthew Moran's The IT Career Builder's Toolkit could also have been reviewed in our 'business' section for job-seekers, but is featured here because so many IT employees are seeking work, and so many college students aspire to enter the field. This is career prep with no holds barred: Matthew Moran profiles solid, market-based skills and proven methods to advance an IT career or reach a goal. Newcomers in particular receive explicit advice on how to present technical skills value in a tough job market, how to become an essential commodity in an overwhelmed market, and how to gain meaningful professional contacts. A 'must' for any serious IT pro.
===============================
Earlier, at UnixReview
"…the only problem with the book that I can see is that I wish I had written it."
http://www.unixreview.com/documents/s=9602/ur0503e/
I spend a lot of time goofing off on this blog but I am deeply honored and very excited about these reviews. They are on one hand humbling and on the other validating. While I and the team at Cisco Press worked hard to make the text readable and the content valuable, I do not take lightly such reviews.
I’ve been writing and using word (over-using words if you ask my mom) since I was very young. Writing is an often agonizing endeavor. Not in the difficulty of the words – God knows I’ve never had a problem producing words – but in the mental/psychological banter you put yourself through.
At times, you read what you write and think, “That’s good!” But much of the time, the words that you have produced – to you – seem average at best. I believe this may be true with any artist or craftsman. Because you form the basis of your own normalcy, what you produce is always average, if only your average.
When an industry peer recognizes your work, it brings a sigh of relief and some pride. It feels good!
Fortunately, this has occurred on a few occasions with this project. When Chris Cleveland at Cisco called me and said, “You’re a good writer,” it meant something. When Karen Gill, the freelance proofreader and copyeditor for my book wrote me an email extolling both the writing and the content of my book, it meant something.
And on numerous occasions, my editor, Mary Beth Ray, at Cisco Press provided encouragement that has been life-changing.
When I say life-changing, I do not mean that lightly. Mary Beth read some of my articles and purchased a self-published copy of my book. I had no idea who she was – just another customer. I sent her a copy of my book and moved on to other projects.
Two weeks later, she contacted me. We had a phone conversation that I consider to be one of the most significant of my life. Being contacted by an editor at a major publisher who wants to publish your book is an amazing life event.
It gave me both a belief and provided a flame of desire to make a concerted effort to make writer my vocation. Now we are working on a new project with Mary Beth and have an agent ready to look at Laughter & Tears In A Hyperactive Home.
Next step: Get my self-published, If Mom Were President off the blocks.
“A ‘must’ for any serious IT pro.” – Midwest Book Review
Here’s the entire review:
==========================
The IT Career Builder's Toolkit
Matthew Moran
Cisco Press
800 East 96th St., Indianapolis, IN 46240
1587131560 $29.95 ciscopress.com
Matthew Moran's The IT Career Builder's Toolkit could also have been reviewed in our 'business' section for job-seekers, but is featured here because so many IT employees are seeking work, and so many college students aspire to enter the field. This is career prep with no holds barred: Matthew Moran profiles solid, market-based skills and proven methods to advance an IT career or reach a goal. Newcomers in particular receive explicit advice on how to present technical skills value in a tough job market, how to become an essential commodity in an overwhelmed market, and how to gain meaningful professional contacts. A 'must' for any serious IT pro.
===============================
Earlier, at UnixReview
"…the only problem with the book that I can see is that I wish I had written it."
http://www.unixreview.com/documents/s=9602/ur0503e/
I spend a lot of time goofing off on this blog but I am deeply honored and very excited about these reviews. They are on one hand humbling and on the other validating. While I and the team at Cisco Press worked hard to make the text readable and the content valuable, I do not take lightly such reviews.
I’ve been writing and using word (over-using words if you ask my mom) since I was very young. Writing is an often agonizing endeavor. Not in the difficulty of the words – God knows I’ve never had a problem producing words – but in the mental/psychological banter you put yourself through.
At times, you read what you write and think, “That’s good!” But much of the time, the words that you have produced – to you – seem average at best. I believe this may be true with any artist or craftsman. Because you form the basis of your own normalcy, what you produce is always average, if only your average.
When an industry peer recognizes your work, it brings a sigh of relief and some pride. It feels good!
Fortunately, this has occurred on a few occasions with this project. When Chris Cleveland at Cisco called me and said, “You’re a good writer,” it meant something. When Karen Gill, the freelance proofreader and copyeditor for my book wrote me an email extolling both the writing and the content of my book, it meant something.
And on numerous occasions, my editor, Mary Beth Ray, at Cisco Press provided encouragement that has been life-changing.
When I say life-changing, I do not mean that lightly. Mary Beth read some of my articles and purchased a self-published copy of my book. I had no idea who she was – just another customer. I sent her a copy of my book and moved on to other projects.
Two weeks later, she contacted me. We had a phone conversation that I consider to be one of the most significant of my life. Being contacted by an editor at a major publisher who wants to publish your book is an amazing life event.
It gave me both a belief and provided a flame of desire to make a concerted effort to make writer my vocation. Now we are working on a new project with Mary Beth and have an agent ready to look at Laughter & Tears In A Hyperactive Home.
Next step: Get my self-published, If Mom Were President off the blocks.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Giving Wendy’s the finger; it doesn’t add up
Giving Wendy’s the Finger, it doesn’t add up
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/7487945/
I think something may be amiss here. The woman who claimed to have found the finger in a bowl of Wendy’s Chili has decided not to sue. Her reason, she is too emotionally distraught. ???
Of course, they have discovered that she has a history of suing companies – but I am sure there is no connection. Then again, maybe she isn’t being 100% truthful in all of this. Maybe she gave Wendy’s the finger – literally.
They are running DNA test to discover who the finger belongs to. No one has stepped forward yet but maybe it is the finger they used to dial the phone with. I would start looking close to her home. Like her child – the one with the bandaged hand! Or her sister – who always has her hands in her pockets and recently had brought all her gloves to the tailor for some “adjustments.”
Is there any chance she was the first person on the scene of a horrific accident? Did someone get whacked and she casually thought, “She won’t be needing this.” Perhaps with some crude finger humor to boot, like.
“Ah a corpse – a statistic…and what’s a missing digit when your just a number.”
Then again, maybe that is why I was suspicious in the beginning. Maybe the missing digit was why it didn’t add up!
Okay, enough mathematical humor on this one. Besides, the facts aren’t out yet. I shouldn’t be pointing fingers – especially at that woman. Remember, when you point your finger at someone, there are 4 pointing back – and a fifth twitching in the chili.
Enough! Enough I say!
We will have to see how this plays out. I’m still not ordering any chili from Wendy’s. I never did before this but it just seems unappealing. Personally, I go for food I pick up with my fingers – not that which may contain fingers.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/7487945/
I think something may be amiss here. The woman who claimed to have found the finger in a bowl of Wendy’s Chili has decided not to sue. Her reason, she is too emotionally distraught. ???
Of course, they have discovered that she has a history of suing companies – but I am sure there is no connection. Then again, maybe she isn’t being 100% truthful in all of this. Maybe she gave Wendy’s the finger – literally.
They are running DNA test to discover who the finger belongs to. No one has stepped forward yet but maybe it is the finger they used to dial the phone with. I would start looking close to her home. Like her child – the one with the bandaged hand! Or her sister – who always has her hands in her pockets and recently had brought all her gloves to the tailor for some “adjustments.”
Is there any chance she was the first person on the scene of a horrific accident? Did someone get whacked and she casually thought, “She won’t be needing this.” Perhaps with some crude finger humor to boot, like.
“Ah a corpse – a statistic…and what’s a missing digit when your just a number.”
Then again, maybe that is why I was suspicious in the beginning. Maybe the missing digit was why it didn’t add up!
Okay, enough mathematical humor on this one. Besides, the facts aren’t out yet. I shouldn’t be pointing fingers – especially at that woman. Remember, when you point your finger at someone, there are 4 pointing back – and a fifth twitching in the chili.
Enough! Enough I say!
We will have to see how this plays out. I’m still not ordering any chili from Wendy’s. I never did before this but it just seems unappealing. Personally, I go for food I pick up with my fingers – not that which may contain fingers.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
A brief Vegas report
It is with some sadness that I report this to you…. The Candlelight Wedding Chapel – mentioned just last week in this very blog – is closed and scheduled to be torn down. In its place, a mega-casino next to the Riviera.
I don’t know if they are re-opening a newer version of the same chapel somewhere because the website was still up and gave no indication of the close. However, it is possible that they don’t even remember that they have a website. Stranger things have happened.
What Happens In Vegas Stays In Vegas!
You betcha! This past weekend, our kids survived, the house survived, and my voice lasted the duration of my talk. Since returning from New Orleans more than 3 weeks ago, I’ve been dealing with a flu/cold/sniffle/cough thing. In another week I am off to Boston and still can’t seem to shake it. But I will press on.
Vegas was pretty uneventful by all accounts. Laura sunbathed by the pool one day and we ran through the various casinos, arriving at the conclusion that they all look the same at some point. The Venetian was pretty nice – however. Certainly the nicest in the non-casino areas of any of the places we visited.
We took a walk downtown. The girl is crazy if you ask me. She even ended up with beads – six strands of them. She would send me to pick up a drink somewhere, I would hear some hooting and hollering, and come back to find her wearing a new strand. Lot of friendly guys in the area though. They kept waving and giving the old thumbs up. Is that normal in Vegas?
She almost convinced me to go into the topless revue on Fremont Street but I would have none of it. I don’t want her gawking at all those gals on stage – putting wild notions in her head. I can just imagine it. I arrive at home after a long day at the office to find a note…
“Matt,
I’ve gone back to Fremont Street to dance. It is what I’ve always wanted to do. You are a prude and I need to free my inner animal. Don’t worry about the snake and Tiffany, they are coming with me – as props.
Toodleloo,
Luscious Laura”
And then where would I be…..Fremont Street would be a good guess!
I don’t know if they are re-opening a newer version of the same chapel somewhere because the website was still up and gave no indication of the close. However, it is possible that they don’t even remember that they have a website. Stranger things have happened.
What Happens In Vegas Stays In Vegas!
You betcha! This past weekend, our kids survived, the house survived, and my voice lasted the duration of my talk. Since returning from New Orleans more than 3 weeks ago, I’ve been dealing with a flu/cold/sniffle/cough thing. In another week I am off to Boston and still can’t seem to shake it. But I will press on.
Vegas was pretty uneventful by all accounts. Laura sunbathed by the pool one day and we ran through the various casinos, arriving at the conclusion that they all look the same at some point. The Venetian was pretty nice – however. Certainly the nicest in the non-casino areas of any of the places we visited.
We took a walk downtown. The girl is crazy if you ask me. She even ended up with beads – six strands of them. She would send me to pick up a drink somewhere, I would hear some hooting and hollering, and come back to find her wearing a new strand. Lot of friendly guys in the area though. They kept waving and giving the old thumbs up. Is that normal in Vegas?
She almost convinced me to go into the topless revue on Fremont Street but I would have none of it. I don’t want her gawking at all those gals on stage – putting wild notions in her head. I can just imagine it. I arrive at home after a long day at the office to find a note…
“Matt,
I’ve gone back to Fremont Street to dance. It is what I’ve always wanted to do. You are a prude and I need to free my inner animal. Don’t worry about the snake and Tiffany, they are coming with me – as props.
Toodleloo,
Luscious Laura”
And then where would I be…..Fremont Street would be a good guess!
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Vegas Bound and a head in a pickle jar.
Vegas Bound!
Yes! My honey and I are off! Not yet, exactly. I’m sitting at the computer typing. But later this morning we are ditching the brats and hitting the open road. We are heading for Vegas, back to where our little marriage shindig began more than 17 years ago.
That’s right, we are a Vegas couple. For about $100 and two nights lodging at a now defunct hotel/casino, we got hitched. No family, no friends, no caterer, no ugly brides maid dresses. It was me, my girl (she had been getting sick every morning for a couple of months – hmm?? What was that all about?), and an oddly fitting pair of white slacks and jacket that made me look like Leisure Suit Larry (you’d have to remember that old game).
The Candlelight Wedding Chapel provided the backdrop. Jim Hamilton married us with a chapel staff member serving as the witness. Jim, as it turns out, is quite the personality. If you saw Honeymoon in Vegas with Nicolas Cage and Sarah Jessica Parker, Jim makes an appearance at the end of the movie – actually marrying Nick and Sara in a chapel full of skydiving Elvis impersonators. Laura and I were in the theatre watching the movie and when Jim showed up, we felt like we knew a star.
He is actually listed in the cast here:
http://movies.msn.com/movies/movie.aspx?m=369663&mp=c
Another couple was getting married right before us – and another right after us – quite the assembly line. We kept seeing that couple, the one married before us, over the course of the night – at dinner and then at a comedy club. Each time we waved and giggled like we were part of some secret society. The society of knocked up girlfriends and misguided youth.
Now we are seventeen years into this thing and I think I like her! My wife, I mean.
We were in Vegas a few years ago with all four kids and stopped by to take a picture with Jim. Yes, he is still there – The Candlelight Wedding Chapel across from Circus Circus. It is odd because the chapel is actually pretty but it sits at the end of a strip mall and big souvenir store. It is so Vegas it is frightening!
http://www.candlelightchapel.com/index.htm
The picture on their homepage is carefully cropped but the parking lot/souvenir shop is just to the left of the picture and the Riveria on the right. I’m not knocking them, it was a good time.
In fact, Elizabeth Taylor was married there once – of course, one might be hard-pressed to find a place she wasn’t married.
Now I am back in Vegas to speak at a conference for the parent company of my publisher. This should be fun! As you have read, I’ve been in Cleveland with them, in New Orleans a few weeks ago, and now this. In another week, I am Boston bound!
After the pink Jordache garment bag incident (read about Cleveland in earlier entries), I am glad I am taking my wife. I am sure the Prentice Hall folks have wondered about my “flamboyance” at their events. This is perfect cover – uh, I mean, validation of my strong heterosexual alignment. I mean, she’s a good-lookin’ broad, this wife of mine. I know, I color her hair!
Matt, what about the head in the pickle jar?
Oh yeah, let's get to it.
With all the Terri Shiavo stuff rolling around the news (don’t do it Matt, don’t get political), we had a conversation with our children about end of life wishes. Both Laura and I don’t want to be “fed” if we are in a PVS. PVS for those who haven’t been listening to TV or radio is another acronym. Coming from a tech background and with the Internet, these have become quite popular. Persistent (corrected from Permanent) Vegetative State (PVS).
We, as with almost everyone, have our opinions on the latest news and events but took this introspective time to let our wishes be known with our kids.
My wife and I both agree, no PVS for us. We both agree, organs donated. My wife, cremated. I want to be cremated too but not my head. I told my kids I want them to keep my head in a pickle jar. It is a great conversation piece. They can transfer it seasonally to each of their homes. That is the great thing about four kids. Four kids, four seasons, one head in a pickle jar.
"Nice place you have here. Where did you get that couch – Ethan Allen, nice. Oh, what is that on the mantle?"
"That’s my dad’s head in a pickle jar. He wanted to be passed on to future generations."
"Wouldn’t a picture have been simpler?"
"Well, my Dad felt he wasn’t very photogenic."
"He still isn’t."
The fact is, we are hoping our deaths are not imminent. We just hope the fear and anxiety of the potential keeps our kids from fighting this weekend while we are gone. We are hopeful but not optimistically so.
We’ve even told them they could have a party – two kegs, even illicit drugs, our treat – if we don’t get the predictable phone calls. Yes calls, multiple. Each fighting incident involves multiple calls. That’s the problem with cell phones for each teenager. That provides three phones in the house – the home phone and each cell phone.
We’ve actually had it happen where I am on the phone with Jessica, Matt is calling on the other line, and Christopher and Sara, our babies are calling Mom on the home phone. I’m switching back and forth getting Jessica’s story and then Matt’s story and asking about those items Laura is feeding to me from Chris and Sara. There is no mediating between them in these cases. More often than not, we just put them on mute and carry on our conversation. If we hear a pause or scream, we interject a hearfelt - "stop it." or "listen to your brother."
Basically, cellular technology extends dysfunction. Geography is no longer an issue. It used to be that parents had to come home and simply pick up the pieces. Now they have to be involved. It is a burden that is not really fair. Fortunately, we signed up for the “family fight” plan. That means we don’t get charged for bickering between our cell phones. Our kids can call us repeatedly – again and again and again and again – about the same infraction. We don’t get charged to hear that Jessica looked at Chris wrong or that Matt is being a jerk and sent everyone to their rooms. Matt likes sending them to their rooms because that was our trump authority that we’ve given him.
There are two things we need to add to this situation, however.
The first is sound-proofing the rooms. When our kids fight, sending them to their rooms only means that they have to yell through the house to fight. Even though Chris is downstairs and Jessica is upstairs, they can still effectively trade barbs. Maybe an added intercom between their rooms would be in order.
The other thing they should add to cell phones is a master shocker! The owner of the cell phone account and any assigned roles, should have the ability to send an electronic shock to any of the other cell phones. That way, when we are trying to get a word in edge wise but the words, “but she said” or “but he said” or “you don’t understand” (we virtually never understand), keep interrupting us, we can send an arcing jolt of electricity from the earpiece to their ear!
I’m not sure it would stop their talking but boy would it be fun.
Okay, I have to go pack! See you in Vegas.
Yes! My honey and I are off! Not yet, exactly. I’m sitting at the computer typing. But later this morning we are ditching the brats and hitting the open road. We are heading for Vegas, back to where our little marriage shindig began more than 17 years ago.
That’s right, we are a Vegas couple. For about $100 and two nights lodging at a now defunct hotel/casino, we got hitched. No family, no friends, no caterer, no ugly brides maid dresses. It was me, my girl (she had been getting sick every morning for a couple of months – hmm?? What was that all about?), and an oddly fitting pair of white slacks and jacket that made me look like Leisure Suit Larry (you’d have to remember that old game).
The Candlelight Wedding Chapel provided the backdrop. Jim Hamilton married us with a chapel staff member serving as the witness. Jim, as it turns out, is quite the personality. If you saw Honeymoon in Vegas with Nicolas Cage and Sarah Jessica Parker, Jim makes an appearance at the end of the movie – actually marrying Nick and Sara in a chapel full of skydiving Elvis impersonators. Laura and I were in the theatre watching the movie and when Jim showed up, we felt like we knew a star.
He is actually listed in the cast here:
http://movies.msn.com/movies/movie.aspx?m=369663&mp=c
Another couple was getting married right before us – and another right after us – quite the assembly line. We kept seeing that couple, the one married before us, over the course of the night – at dinner and then at a comedy club. Each time we waved and giggled like we were part of some secret society. The society of knocked up girlfriends and misguided youth.
Now we are seventeen years into this thing and I think I like her! My wife, I mean.
We were in Vegas a few years ago with all four kids and stopped by to take a picture with Jim. Yes, he is still there – The Candlelight Wedding Chapel across from Circus Circus. It is odd because the chapel is actually pretty but it sits at the end of a strip mall and big souvenir store. It is so Vegas it is frightening!
http://www.candlelightchapel.com/index.htm
The picture on their homepage is carefully cropped but the parking lot/souvenir shop is just to the left of the picture and the Riveria on the right. I’m not knocking them, it was a good time.
In fact, Elizabeth Taylor was married there once – of course, one might be hard-pressed to find a place she wasn’t married.
Now I am back in Vegas to speak at a conference for the parent company of my publisher. This should be fun! As you have read, I’ve been in Cleveland with them, in New Orleans a few weeks ago, and now this. In another week, I am Boston bound!
After the pink Jordache garment bag incident (read about Cleveland in earlier entries), I am glad I am taking my wife. I am sure the Prentice Hall folks have wondered about my “flamboyance” at their events. This is perfect cover – uh, I mean, validation of my strong heterosexual alignment. I mean, she’s a good-lookin’ broad, this wife of mine. I know, I color her hair!
Matt, what about the head in the pickle jar?
Oh yeah, let's get to it.
With all the Terri Shiavo stuff rolling around the news (don’t do it Matt, don’t get political), we had a conversation with our children about end of life wishes. Both Laura and I don’t want to be “fed” if we are in a PVS. PVS for those who haven’t been listening to TV or radio is another acronym. Coming from a tech background and with the Internet, these have become quite popular. Persistent (corrected from Permanent) Vegetative State (PVS).
We, as with almost everyone, have our opinions on the latest news and events but took this introspective time to let our wishes be known with our kids.
My wife and I both agree, no PVS for us. We both agree, organs donated. My wife, cremated. I want to be cremated too but not my head. I told my kids I want them to keep my head in a pickle jar. It is a great conversation piece. They can transfer it seasonally to each of their homes. That is the great thing about four kids. Four kids, four seasons, one head in a pickle jar.
"Nice place you have here. Where did you get that couch – Ethan Allen, nice. Oh, what is that on the mantle?"
"That’s my dad’s head in a pickle jar. He wanted to be passed on to future generations."
"Wouldn’t a picture have been simpler?"
"Well, my Dad felt he wasn’t very photogenic."
"He still isn’t."
The fact is, we are hoping our deaths are not imminent. We just hope the fear and anxiety of the potential keeps our kids from fighting this weekend while we are gone. We are hopeful but not optimistically so.
We’ve even told them they could have a party – two kegs, even illicit drugs, our treat – if we don’t get the predictable phone calls. Yes calls, multiple. Each fighting incident involves multiple calls. That’s the problem with cell phones for each teenager. That provides three phones in the house – the home phone and each cell phone.
We’ve actually had it happen where I am on the phone with Jessica, Matt is calling on the other line, and Christopher and Sara, our babies are calling Mom on the home phone. I’m switching back and forth getting Jessica’s story and then Matt’s story and asking about those items Laura is feeding to me from Chris and Sara. There is no mediating between them in these cases. More often than not, we just put them on mute and carry on our conversation. If we hear a pause or scream, we interject a hearfelt - "stop it." or "listen to your brother."
Basically, cellular technology extends dysfunction. Geography is no longer an issue. It used to be that parents had to come home and simply pick up the pieces. Now they have to be involved. It is a burden that is not really fair. Fortunately, we signed up for the “family fight” plan. That means we don’t get charged for bickering between our cell phones. Our kids can call us repeatedly – again and again and again and again – about the same infraction. We don’t get charged to hear that Jessica looked at Chris wrong or that Matt is being a jerk and sent everyone to their rooms. Matt likes sending them to their rooms because that was our trump authority that we’ve given him.
There are two things we need to add to this situation, however.
The first is sound-proofing the rooms. When our kids fight, sending them to their rooms only means that they have to yell through the house to fight. Even though Chris is downstairs and Jessica is upstairs, they can still effectively trade barbs. Maybe an added intercom between their rooms would be in order.
The other thing they should add to cell phones is a master shocker! The owner of the cell phone account and any assigned roles, should have the ability to send an electronic shock to any of the other cell phones. That way, when we are trying to get a word in edge wise but the words, “but she said” or “but he said” or “you don’t understand” (we virtually never understand), keep interrupting us, we can send an arcing jolt of electricity from the earpiece to their ear!
I’m not sure it would stop their talking but boy would it be fun.
Okay, I have to go pack! See you in Vegas.
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