Archive for September, 2011

Dear Insurance Companies: Not Funny

I wish insurance companies were required to do “factual” advertising.  Like the number of claims paid, percentages, percentage of each claim paid.  No, instead, we are faced with a spate of humorous commercials, and apparently the insurance companies hope that we won’t notice what goes on behind the scenes?

Or perhaps the execs picked humor as their ad vehicle because they are ‘laughing all the way to the bank.’

Lizards. Men in animal costumes.  Cars that rebuild themselves.

As someone who experience Hurricane Katrina, and who has a number of peers with life-threatening health conditions, I say “shame on you” sinsurance companies.

We pay, and pay, and pay, and you don’t pay, don’t pay, don’t pay.

When it looks like you are going to be forced to pay, you cancel us, or jack our rates to beyond belief.

Since mathematically, insurance is about shared risk, how does it work to hike one person’s rates to the stratosphere?  Why not lift everyone’s a penny?   Better yet, don’t raise rates still you start paying out at least 90% of the premiums that come in, and cash on hand, less operating costs.  10% is a very reasonable margin in any business.

Quit advertising since it’s all bullshit anyway.  That’ll save ‘us’ even more money.

That’s the way I see it.

An Old Crazy Fantasy

I have had this joke with myself, for as long as I can remember – my entire life.   It was that I wanted to end up living in an old trailer in the desert, a 3 legged dog in the “yard”, flies buzzing above his head, a broken down pickup truck, hubcaps or painted rocks lining the driveway.

I imagined being alone there, peaceful, a place to reflect, write, live out my ‘golden years.’   I’ve shared this notion with quite a number of people over the years, and the reaction has been mixed:  some people were horrified, some slightly bemused as I am; some thinking it indicated some sort of imbalance.  (But whom  of us can honestly say we are 100% sane and rational, by any definition?).

The “location” has changed over the years.  The first place I remember “choosing” and the spot that held the prize the longest, was on the Antelope Valley Highway, which runs between the far northern suburbs of Los Angeles (Santa Clarita), and Victorville, CA, on I-15, the road from Los Angeles to Las Vegas.

The next area I “picked” was Baker, CA, up I-15 a piece, midway between Barstow, California, and the western Nevada border.  If you’ve ever driven past here, you know about it – it’s the home of the world’s tallest thermometer (which rarely works), and is a layover on your drive to Las Vegas – or anywhere.  There are some coffee shops, gas stations, and not much else.  There is “Alien Beef Jerky”, and there is a Big Boy restaurant, which used to be called “Bun Boy”, and if you’re really, really old, like me, you’ll remember this stop was  frequent joke between Johnny Carson and Ed McMahon (tho I can’t tell you why – I don’t know).

At times, another location, tho I have never been serious about it, is the Salton Sea, as close a place as you can come to hell on earth, probably, in the far southern extremities of California.  An inland salt water ‘sea’, the location is most well known for the tons of dead fish and birds that pile up on the shore every week, from the salinity and diseases that accompany ultra high saline and high temp mixes.

Recently, I’ve been fascinated with Tonopah, NV, a place I first heard about when reading about Howard Hughes’ time in Las Vegas.  Tonopah is on US 95, called by many as “the loneliest highway in America,” and I might agree.  Tonopah is halfway between Vegas and Reno, and the highway has little going for it, in the way of rest, relaxation, culture, towns.   A few brothels dot the highway, once you are outside of Clark County, NV, where the state’s legal prostitution statute does not apply.

Brothels are not the attraction for me.  I’m not sure, other than I’m pretty sure I am going to spend the last years of my life alone, and I am pretty sure friends and relatives aren’t going to be beating a path to my door to visit, so I might was well be as far off the beaten track as possible.

I had enough money to retire nicely when I left Hong Kong.  If I had as much sense as money, I just would have stayed. Life on “my island” in Hong Kong was ideal for me, and it was a very low cost of living, but Central Hong Kong, and whatever you needed or wished for, was a mere 30 minute ferry ride.

The older you get in life, in my opinion, the harder it is to see what’s ahead.  As a teen, and possibly all the way into your 40s, you see (or at least most of us do) a brilliant future ahead, peace, prosperity, and happiness.

At some point you realize the futility of this vision. For most people, it doesn’t happen.  As it didn’t for me.

 

 

(It’ll Be Just Like) Starting Over

No, not an homage to the John Lennon song, but rather, the story of the last decade of my life.  After a terribly fulfilling 8 years in China, I abandoned that, and my home there, a real “home”, with community, friends, neighbors I interacted with on a daily basis.

Why did I leave?  For “love.”  Or lust. Or whatever it was.  In its intended form, it lasted less than 60 days after I returned to US terra firma.  It then dragged on for another year of agony, in one form or another, 3 states.  Geez, now I see ANOTHER pattern in my life!

Someone once told me they expected their relationships to end suddenly in the middle of the night, usually with a restraining order attached.

That’s never been me.  My relationships have all ended with a whimper, over time.  We went through the stages, as another lover of mine had put forth, the “beginning of the end,”  “the middle of the end”, and so on.  You get the point. (Tho I admit it didn’t dawn on me at the time!)

So I started over when i came back from China, then again when the relationship I came for ended, work took me to geriatric heaven (Florida) for a short period, and I started again the next year  in La Jolla.  Then yet again, with my very “final move” to New Orleans in 2001.   And that was too be it.  For moving.  For work.  For relationships.  Spend my ‘golden age’ years in South Louisiana, loving the food, the people, my new friends, the arts, the culture.

Katrina ended all that.  And I started over again, in Portland, in 2007.

And now, it seems, circumstances are such that it will happen again.

There used to be a time when I would look forward to these transitions.  Each new adventure, locale, meant all “new”, and I loved it.

I’m dreading this time. No plan, no purpose, no place.  I have maybe three options, which I would rank from “horrible” to “catastrophic.”

It’s my own doing.

I have been cursed my whole life to believe there is goodness in everybody, even though my experiences should have taught me differently.

But if you don’t believe in the goodness of the world, and have hope for the future every day, what do you have?

A dark eddy in your soul.  Sucking you deeper and deeper into the quagmire of the darker side of life, where some people choose to live and prosper…or not.

Not me, tho there are many people who would disagree with me – and not believe I feel that way.

But that’s the way I see it.

Whatever Happened to Shame?

It’s hard to find anybody anymore that suffers from “shame,” at least, in my world.  Wikipedia defines shame as: A “sense of shame” is the consciousness or awareness of shame as a state or condition. Such shame cognition may occur as a result of the experience of shame affect or, more generally, in any situation of embarrassment, dishonor, disgrace, inadequacy, humiliation, or chagrin. (Gee, why doesn’t anybody use the word “chagrin” anymore, either?)

It’s my personal opinion that “shame” has vanished right along with “taking responsiblity for one’s actions and the consequences that come from those actions.”

We’re all quick to blame someone or something for our actions these days, it’s much easier than admitting we actually did “something wrong”, and accept the consequences of how our friends, family and peers would feel about our admitting something that happened is our own fault.

Bush and Cheney didn’t take responsibility for Iraq; that was clearly Sadam’s fault.  Obama blames the financial crisis on Bush and/or Republicans in general.

Celebrities that get into some jam – be it Mike Tyson, Michael Vick (name your own political sex scandal, Vitter, Spitzer, etc., etc.) – “they” didn’t do it, no it was the “demon rum”, some other addiction, a shitty upbringing, terrible parents, the pressure to succeed, blah blah blah.

Just once (ok, more than once), I’d like to see somebody stand up and be a role model for the TRUTH.  “I FUCKED UP, I DID THIS, I KNEW BETTER, BUT DID IT ANYWAY, IT WAS WRONG, AND I WILL ACCEPT THE RESPONSIBLITY AND CONSEQUENCES FOR MY ACTIONS!”

Geez, I’d vote for that guy again.  Or go to their movie. Or buy their book, whatever.

It would be the proverbial ‘breath of fresh air’ in these times of blaming everything on everybody, anybody, except oneself.

Practice it this week. Call a former lover, friend, colleague, family member you wronged at sometime in the past. Apologize. Sincerely.

You’ll sleep better. And so will I.

That’s how I see it.

The Grass is Never Really Greener

It was 4:30 AM in Copenhagen.   I was awake, and restless, my girlfriend was sleeping soundly in the bed.  I thought I would read for a bit.

The woman had started journaling early in life, nearly every day since her early teens.  I had been to her parent’s home, and there were shelves and shelves of journals.   She always told me there was nothing private about them, if I ever wanted to pick one up and glance through it, go ahead.

I was never tempted.  People deserve a certain amount of privacy, even in a relationship or marriage, I believe.

But here was I, bored out of my skull, and here was her journal, sitting beside me on the nightstand, and I picked it up, leafed through a few pages, nothing very interesting, til I came to one of the most recent entries, she had apparently written on this trip.  We were supposed to be working Northern Europe and Scandinavia, and were employing all manners of transportation, lots of trains meant lots of idle time, and she had apparently used the time to write about me, and us.

We were at a very advanced stage in our relationship, “the beginning of the middle” she called it (stupid me, I didn’t realize if there was a beginning and a middle, something came after that!).   We talked a lot about how we were going to live our lives together, and where, and about children, and the things passionate couples talk about.

In her journal entry, she talked about how I was very nearly perfect for her.  My zest for life (some others would argue with that these days!), my passion for her, for us together.  She loved my cooking, my stories, my writing.  She said that maybe she had met the “first man ever who didn’t want to OWN her.”  And apparently that was important.

And then came the “buts….”.   “If only he had ‘this trait’ or ‘that trait’ or ‘did this’ or ‘did that’ like (naming other past loves).

I didn’t realize at the time that ‘wishing’ was a lot different that actually ‘wanting’ or ‘expecting’.  And so I was terribly hurt reading these passages.  To me, they said she loved me, but she still hung onto certain aspects of others.

I left the room, the sun was coming up, and walked for hours.  I went to the harbor and sneered at the Little Mermaid statue.  From there I went to a pub for an eye opener (yes, I used to drink like a fish).

By mid-morning, somehow she had found me, astonishing since she had no idea where I had gone.  But we used to be able to do that do each other.  We could sense each other’s presence, and that always fascinated me.

I told her why I was hurt, and she told me why that was silly.

I didn’t believe her, but I understand now what she was saying.  I almost walked away from her permanently that day, and maybe I should have, maybe I shouldn’t have.

Here’s the point:  In life, relationships, business, jobs, some people hop around and around, looking for something “better”, and always clinging to the hope that there is something “better” out there.  Or perhaps they are encouraged by friends that “you can do better” or you “deserve better”, and you believe them and embark on that quest, often leaving people, places, or opportunities behind that maybe shouldn’t have been left behind.   They say “time answers all questions” but to me, it never does, it just leaves you with even more questions.

Human beings make mistakes.  They aren’t perfect.  No one is.   Someone may be 70% good, and 30% not so good.  Every one of us has good and bad qualities.

Your friends or family may tell you “never settle.”  But you know what?  Life is about settling, really.  You may call it something else – compromise.  Or comfort.  Or whatever.

In the end, a person, a situation, an opportunity doesn’t necessarily have to be “perfect.”  They only have to be perfect for you.

That’s how I see it.

 

My Advice to the Youth of Today

  • In the long run, being with a person, any person, cannot, will not be the sole source of your happiness.  You have to find that within you.
    You cannot be the sole source of anyone else’s happiness.  That’s just unhealthy.
  • Life happens to you, or you can make life happen.  The latter is better.
  • If you don’t summarily deal with the debt you incur before you are 30, it can wreck the rest of your life.
  • There are no shortcuts to having a healthy lifestyle, other than healthy eating and moderate, regular exercise.
  • At least once a month, you should accept an invitation that is ‘out of the box’ for you personally.
  • A healthy partnership/marriage is uber dependent upon both people having normal social lives and friends outside of the marriage.
  • Liquor, smoking (both kinds) and animal fats will ruin your life.  Undisputable scientific fact.
  • It is a complete waste of time to be involved in civic causes and charities thinking you can change anything.  The only thing involvement does is make you feel LIKE you are doing something, and that’s ok.
  • People NEVER change.  They say they will, they might show they are trying, but they NEVER do.   The shortcomings you notice initially in any person will be with them forever, in some form or fashion.
  • “All you need is love” is lie.
  • Always have a back-up plan/exit strategy for every part of your life.
  • Jealousy is pointless and a waste of energy.
  • Rarely, if ever, turn down an invitation, even if it’s for something you think you aren’t interested in.
  • “Pay yourself first.”   Keep 20-25 % of any money you make, in savings.

Let It Ride – The Summer of ’74

In the fall of 1974, I was a few months away from  graduating from college, was engaged to be married, and was working at an internship at KSTP AM/FM/TV in Minneapolis-St. Paul.  I had purchased my first car a few months earlier, a brand new copper-colored
hatchback Mustang II, and had broken it in over the summer, driving back and forth from Minnesota to San Antonio to visit my fiancé.

The songs of summer, and thus my all night driving songs, were the rock anthems of that era, “Sweet Home Alabama”, “Autobahn”, “Locomotion”,  “Tell Me Something Good,” and Billy Joel’s debut “Piano Man.”   I also remember hearing the song “Radar Love” a lot on those trips.

My internship was a program of my own design, and had to have been one of the first in the nation.
I knew I wanted to go into broadcasting, but was still a little unsure of what aspect would hold my attention, so I thought an internship spread across all industry departments would help me figure that out.

And who wouldn’t want to hang out with the “stars” of 1500 KSTP – The MUSIC MOTHER?  It was
nearing the end of the era where AM was viable for music formats, and KSTP was one of the nation’s best – with a lineup including Chuck Knapp, Charlie Bush,
Scott Shannon, Machine Guy Kelly, and others.

Bachman-Turner Overdrive had emerged that year; Randy Bachman’s effort after leading the
highly successful Canadian pop rockers ‘Guess Who.’   Bachman had a tiff with Guess Who co-leader
Burton Cummings after Bachman converted to Mormonism and thought the Guess Who’s rock style was a little out of sync with his new beliefs.  I can’t opine as to why his own music was any different with BTO.

In any case, one of their early monster hits was the smash of the summer of 1974, “Let It Ride”, and it was a daily featured song on KSTP in the fall.  At approximately 7:15 each morning, the song would play, and somewhere in the middle, there is a brief pause in the music.  At this point the KSTP morning team would break in and do their bit entitled “The Shave Cream Weather Report”, which was a ‘running gag’ about Knapp and sidekick Bush doing
the morning weather while they were showering.

Then the song’s strong chorus would come back on.

I was always somewhere between my college campus and KSTP when this event occurred, hurtling north on Minnesota Highway 3, which runs into South St. Paul and becomes Roberts Street.

I’d be thinking of the day’s work ahead, what I could
squander my weekly minimum wage paycheck on that weekend, and being ga-ga in love with my fiancé, and yearning for graduation so we could get married and
start our life together.

Ultimately, my fiancé left me at the altar radio didn’t, and was my mistress, my love, and my passion for nearly thirty years.    But nothing in life ever stays the same, my fiancé didn’t, and neither did radio.   I
spent a couple months missing my fiancé, but I’ll miss how much fun radio was for the rest of my life.

 

Kick Me

I have a dear friend, who has been convinced for the decades I have known her, that she is “society’s doormat.” That people take advantage of her, whether it be her employer, kids, neighbors, friends. She’s working hard, probably way to wait in life, to put herself first, and ignore the feet walking over her.

I wonder what makes a person develop that trait? It’s really admirable, in some ways, it’s selflessness. Quite the opposite of most people in our culture today, where “me first, me only” seems to rule.

When does it happen in human development? I see no pattern. I can’t say it comes from one class or another, one size family or another, one type of upbringing or another.

But it does develop, and at some point, rears its ugly head, points a finger back at its inhabitant, and says “Stop it! You’re unhappy. You think other people are making you unhappy, but you are letting them. So you are doing it to yourself.”

Sometimes I find personality traits are only prevalent in one aspect of a person’s life. I knew a woman who was extremely compulsive, everything in her life, her appearance, her home, her car, her job, had to be “just so.” There was no variance from this. It was predicable how she would react in certain environments or situations. Except in the bedroom. She was a totally out-of-control crazy person in the sack. You would never guess it was the same person.

Perhaps we all need one aspect of our life that acts as a balance for the rest of it?

At some point in my life, I put the “kick me” sign on my back. I don’t remember the first time, but I can point to many, many instances in my life that it was obvious the sign was there, blazing neon for all to see.

Part of it (as he self-rationalizes) is that I was raised to think the best thing one could be was “a nice guy.” And/or “honest.”

And largely, it is, depending on what one wants to achieve. I cannot think of a single person, that I personally know, who has achieved great “success” or accumulated wealth, that anybody would describe as a “nice guy.” Nice guys finish last, it’s said. From my perspective, that seems to be true.

From time-to-time, I have said to myself, “OK, dammit, I’m gonna be an asshole!” But I must forget that quickly, or perhaps I don’t have the dick gene in me (tho some would argue that, I am sure).

What I do know is the “kick me” sign is still there, taped (stapled? nail gun? crazy glue?) on my back. It invites, implores, begs people to fuck me over, that it is perfectly ok to do so, because I am “a nice guy” and won’t object.

I’ll never have a tombstone. But if I did, and someone else was in charge of the inscription, surely it would say “go ahead, walk all over him, he won’t mind at all.”

But all of a sudden? I do.

Job Seeking Later in Life

I hate Taleo. And anything like it. Just saying. Would paper in an envelope even get read anymore?

Pathological? Compulsive?

I used to have a boss that we (affectionately) called a “pathological embellisher.”  He was prone to telling fantastic tales in which, there was undoubtedly some element of truth mixed with a lot of fantasy. (Sounds like my writing).

Recently, I have been pondering the issue of pathological lying versus compulsive lying.

A common definition of pathological lying is thus: “Pathological lying is falsification entirely disproportionate to any discernible end in view, may be extensive and very complicated, and may manifest over a period of years or even a lifetime.”

Whereas compulsive lying can be categorized as: “A compulsive liar will resort to telling lies, regardless of the situation. For a compulsive liar, telling lies is routine. It becomes a habit – a way of life.”

What’s the difference? Pathological seems to be conducted with awarness, i.e. the people know they are telling lies, whereas with compulsive behavior, the liars are not aware. Lying has become a part of their personality, second nature. Being truth actually makes the compulsive liar uncomfortable.

It’s something to ponder in today’s business world, where integrity seems to have been put into the back storeroom permanently.

That’s the way I see it.