Pick Your Narcotic

The debate surrounding Congress' unilateral and unconditional surrender has been surprising muted, perhaps in the face of the President's intention to veto the bill. The political pandering is enough to send Iceberg Slim into a state of apoplexy.

Then again, maybe the quiet is merely a reaction to an unusually large dose of media-administered narcotics.

While most Americans are unable to define the differences between the two Muslim sects, Sunni and Shia, they can recite chapter and verse of the saga surrounding Anna Nicole Smith's baby and who won the sperm donor battle.

But, wait...there's more. Rosie O'Donnell has been cashiered from "The View." Who gives a shit? Evidently, many people do, because network news, CNN, Fox, and the other purveyors of "balanced information" are deluged with this story. (The upside: at least the verbal battle of the witless--Rosie and The Donald--will mercifully fade away.)

Act now and we'll throw in...the NFL draft. Talk about inanity. There is actually a mock draft that goes through seven rounds! The admonition to "Get a life!" will definitely fall on the deaf ears of draftniks who will study, yes, study, a supposed order of 200+ mythical picks.

And if you thought that your media narcotic offerings were finished, we haven't discussed the specter of Phil Spector, his wall of sound and a nasty habit of bringing loaded guns into his bedroom.

Television news also gives airtime to who was voted off the island, who's left on "American Idol", what former sports star is still dancing, and even what is happening on TV dramas and comedy. Do you honestly think that Walter Cronkite or David Brinkley would have tolerated this bastardization of the news?

So, chose your narcotic and dull your mind so that the really important issues and questions slide harmlessly into the cobwebbed recesses of your brain.

Gratitude and Laughs

Gratitude:

I spent the last three days in Phoenix, Arizona attending a meeting with seven others who happen to do what I do...(We all run a business that creates peer advisory boards for entrepreneurial business owners and top executives.) This meeting falls into a "practice what you preach" mode.

So, it is apt that I have a word of gratitude to my colleagues and friends for the invaluable advice and counsel that they offer. Whenever I face a business problem or opportunity I have a ready group available to give me fresh thinking, solid advice, expert contacts, and judgment.

Who is on your team?

Laughs:

We returned to San Diego on Southwest Airlines. The senior flight attendant turned that boring obligatory preflight speech into a stand-up comedy routine that not only had us laughing, but imparted the necessary information. A new twist: as we took off, with the plane's nose elevated, about fifty packs of peanuts came sliding down the aisle. "Here are your complimentary snacks," she announced, over the roars of appreciation and laughter. "We'll be sending the drinks next!"

Men, Mayhem & Mystery

On Saturday I spent most of the morning with the San Diego Chapter of the Romance Writers of America.

Thanks to my buddy, the 6'6" Alan Russell (America's tallest mystery writer and one of the best), I participated in a panel that also included Ken Kuhlken, Gene Diehl, the aforementioned Alan, and 86-year old Bob Wade. Bob contributes a monthly column to the San Diego Union-Tribune's Book Section, and his beat is mysteries.

We answered a number of interesting questions...but there was one that caused me some pause.

Did we participate in any writers' clubs or associations?

The answer was mainly "No!"

Gene posited that men are more lone wolves. I mentioned that when I do see my fellow mystery writers it usually involves food and drink. We are always interested and supportive of what the others are working on, but we don't have that "sisterhood" shared by the RWA.

And who knew? About the romance genres I mean. I met a woman who was writing historical romances where druids play a role, another who was writing pirate romances, another writing fantasy, and a guy who was writing thriller-type romances using one of those unisex first names.

Thanks to all the enthusiastic women who make RWA work, especially Sylvia Mendoza who coordinated the event.

Imus and the Hyprocrites

This post appeared in a slightly different form in the April 20, 2007 of The San Diego Union-Tribune under the title "Free Speech Takes a Beating." Here's the link: http://www.signonsandiego.com/uniontrib/20070420/news_lz1e20tenuto.html

I have not come to praise Imus, nor to bury him.

Last week, Don Imus, agent provocateur of the radio waves, uttered an ill-timed comment regarding the Rutgers women’s basketball team. Ill-timed because this is the same Imus whose program parodied the Catholic cardinal of New York City by having “him” read the winning lottery numbers, who always ended mock interviews with the senior senator from Massachusetts with “him” speaking underwater, and who played the “Black Beatles” songs, one that included the lyric, “We all live in a yellow Cadillac.” And only now we are outraged?

There are issues more important that what Don Imus said, and said only once. The horde that clamored to crush Imus and succeeded in securing his ouster from both CBS Radio and MSNBC acted not with righteous indignation but mendacious posturing, leavened by a staggering hypocrisy.

CBS President and Chief Executive Office Leslie Moonves said, “There has been much discussion of the effect language like this has on young people, particularly young people of color trying to make their way in society.” The same CBS that aired the Grammy Awards, where rap-star Ludacris’ song “Money Maker” was named the Rap Song of the Year. As for the “effect language like this has on young people”, Imus said it once; since that time print, radio, television and electronic media have repeated it tens of thousands of times, publicizing the comment far beyond Imus’ listeners. A Google search of the three words reveals nearly two million results!

Adding to the list of usual suspects are the Reverends. Jesse Jackson crowed that Imus’ dismissal was “a victory for public decency”, this from a man who fathered a child out of wedlock and has been gorging himself at the public trough for the better part of four decades.

One should hold particular distaste for the pandering Reverend Al Sharpton. Here’s what New York’s most opportunistic religious figure had to say: “He says he wants to be forgiven...But we cannot afford a precedent established that the airways can commercialize and mainstream sexism and racism.” This presupposes that Sharpton’s television is caught in a time warp that features a continuous loop of Lassie and Ozzie & Harriet. I can only hope he watched that paragon of good taste, Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show…on CBS.

At one point, Sharpton suggested that Imus would come through this trial unscathed, perhaps in the same fashion that Sharpton did in the aftermath of the Tawana Brawley affray.

The NAACP, not wishing to be an afterthought, also piled on. The same NAACP that sponsored the 38th Annual Image Awards. The show was hosted by LL Cool J. Read the lyrics of “Fudgidabowdit” and try to argue that they have a shred of dignity or redeeming value. I challenge the NAACP to contrast them with Imus’ unfortunate utterance and explain its unusual silence on the entire issue of rap music. (A search of the NAACP website uncovers exactly three references to hip-hop music, none for rap.)

The voices of CBS, the Reverends, and the NAACP are strangely silent when it comes to the misogynistic, demeaning lyrics of hip-hop and rap music, persistent hate speech that goes far beyond Imus’ quaint, dated reference. Their voices are also strangely silent when Bill Cosby makes one of his pungent observations about African American culture.

And don’t trot out the canard that “we” can say anything about ourselves but that “you” can’t say it. If words are hurtful and demeaning than whoever utters them is hateful and helps perpetuate negative stereotypes.

Another issue is free speech. Where are the stalwarts of free speech? They have muzzled themselves in the face of this onslaught from the “right thinking” mob. Here is another example of someone else, with the arrogance of their position, dictating what we can or can’t listen to, watch on television, or see in theaters. They become arbiters no different from demagogues and dictators. Who is next?

Don Imus now has a choice. He can slither over to satellite radio and join the detestable Howard Stern, or he can go quietly into the night. Imus is a money machine, a means of production that buoyed not only CBS radio but also MSNBC TV. In an entertainment version of Atlas Shrugged he can leave the field of battle to the mediocre and the antiseptic.

My lot as a barista

The other day I kept track of the time I waited for the filtered water from the refrigerator at home and the Arrowhead dispenser at work to fill the respective coffee carafes.

Doing some quick math I discovered that I spend five hours a year just filling water for the coffee. My lot in life is to act as a half-assed barista for both home and office. (This varies greatly from the serious barista chops of my good friend, John Hamilton, CEO of Service Strategies Corporation, who has a machine that was priced in the four figures. John serves as the main coffee baron of his office, taking great pride in brewing the perfect cup for his guests and staff members.)

Five hours a year.

In five hours you can:

• Read a book
• Watch a couple of movies (or one Martin Scorcese film and a Sylvester Stallone movie)
• Do your taxes
• Run 35 miles (or whatever your pace might be)
• Fly across the United States (includes full cavity search by TSA)
• Clear 3,240 spam e-mails from your account

...or fill up the coffee carafes with water.

Of course, this doesn't take into account cleaning the aforementioned carafes, grinding the beans, loading the coffee maker, etc.

And that brings us to the main purpose of this particular musing.

Our obsession with saving time, clearing our lives of "time wasters", always insisting that we be doing something productive, something that could change the world. Me, I chose to wait for the water. Because to always be at something, cramming each moment with some productive task, does not give us time to think or reflect. Lost in the hurly-burly is why we are doing what we do anyway.

To think of the appreciation that Lynn, at home, and Linda, at the office, have for a well-brewed cup of joe in the morning, that's reward and meaning enough.

Initial musings

I often say that I lead the most serendipitous life imaginable.

In my typical anal retentive fashion of setting goals for this year, I chose an odd one, "To collect people." This means that I actively search for opportunities and situations that put me in the way of meeting new people. (One of my long-standing business practices has been to give anyone an hour of my time.)

What happens when you meet more people is that you naturally connect to even broader sources of information or recommendations. For example, if I needed to I could get the name of the man who made Sean Connery's wig for Hunt for Red October.

Since these are initial, unconnected musings, I thought I would suggest visits to two of my new favorite websites:

http://www.mojopages.com/
An online method of customer rating businesses, the third Internet company started by Jon Carder.

http://www.humanclock.com/
One of the most benign and delightful online communities.

And, of course, a shout out to one of my favorites.

http://www.birdmonster.com/
The trials and tribulations of indie rock band, Birdmonster. Don't miss the blog, already awarded a Blog of Note kudo.