Trivia, 56 steps, and the death of Scottish football

We are shameless homers.  Wanting to support the latest effort to provide non-stop service from San Diego to London, we booked the British Air flight with a continuing flight to Glasgow.  A bit of a disappointment,  British Air has a distinctly user unfriendly website hat required me to scroll back and print each of the four boarding passes separately.  On the flight itself, while the service was top note the equipment was old and crowded.  The experience of passing through Heathrow was also a trip.  Through customs then about fur other checkpoints including another security screening as well as having our photos taken twice.

After finding our bags in "Baggage Reclaim" we walked into the waiting area of the Gkasgow Airport to see Andrew Kevan, our intrepid driver and owner of  Milennium, and I broke into a huge grin.  Seeing Andrew makes it official...we have arrived.  What followed was a spirited discussion on the state of the worldwide economy, the future of shipbuilding in Scotland, and the upcoming election in the United States.  We then met Callum who, along with Andrew, deposited us squarely into John Rae's flat.  Graciously Callum and Andrew struggled up the 56 stairs hauling the two large pieces of luggage.  We unpacked and headed to The Wee Curry House only to find...

...The Glasgow Curry House.  Renamed, remodeled, a tribute to famous Glasgow curry, but staffed by the same team and greeted by the irrepressible Jimmy, who remembered us frm our previous visit.

And then to The Rock where I had a couple of pints of Guinness while helping our friends with a few answers in the trivia quiz.  Who directed  Mystic River?  (Clint Eastwood). Tom Joad is a character of what American novel? (The Grapes of Wrath) What novel is narrated by Nick Carraway?  (The Great Gatsby).

On Friday we laid in supplies, built a solid foundation of food in the belly before strollling over to Jelly Hill.  We were surrounded by friends and caught up.  Callan and Kirsteen are a couple of weeks away from opening the Siempre Bike Shop and Cafe.  Gylen, firmly entrenched in a new business incubator, has launched a vide production company.  Nigel is running a large construction project, building a new distillery in Arran.  Lucy is hip deep in designing a 600-page fishing catalog.  Four drams of Bruichladdich, two being doubles, and Marion's shout looking suspiciously like a triple, and we strolled home, none the worse for wear.

On Saturday we took the train to Helensburgh to visit Hill House.  We stopped in Tourist Information to inquire on the location.  Three ladies were in a deep discussion with Stewart, who was manning the shop, on the merits of bed and breakfasts versus hotels on Iona.  When Stewart said, "I'll be with you in a minute" we said to take his time that we weren't in a hurry.  He then gave us directions and suggested a taxi to get us up the hill.  The trio of women offered to drive us, once again demonstrating the hospitality of the Scots.

Hill House was amazing.  Walter Blackie, a successful publisher, commissioned Charles Rennie MacIntosh to design his home.  A must see for anyone interested in art and architecture, especially fans of Frank Lloyd Wright, who appears to have "sampled" a few of MacIntosh's designs.

We finished the day with dinner at Cafe Andaluz and a visit to Tom and Marion Brodie's lovely home.  The former ceilidh performer regaled us with stories that went from the mines of Campbeltown to puffer boats to kilt belt buckles.

The death of Scottish football...while riding for a couple of stops on the Clockwork Orange, Glasgow's loop subway system, we shared the car with a number of Rangers Football Club supporters, off to Ibrox and a match.  The club filed for bancruptcy and was relegated two leagues down, effectively ending the Old Firm, the pitched battles and fierce rivalry with Celtic, the other Glasgow club.  The two clubs were perennial winners of the Scottish Premier League.  With one c,ub now gone, the league is effectively left with a singe strong team.  Muhammed Ali needed Joe Frazer, the Yankees need the Red Sox, and who is Roger Federer without Rafael Nadal?

Case Study: The San Diego Chargers

Chip Conley, Founder and former CEO of Joie de Vivre Hospitality, has recently written a book entitled Emotional Equations. Here is one equation that may resonate with fans of the San Diego Chargers:

Disappointment = Expectations – Reality

The team got off to a great start, winning four of the first five games. The next six games were all losses. For the second year in a row, the Chargers missed the play-offs. With a record of 4-7 the multitude begins clamoring for the dismissal of head coach Norv Turner and general manager A.J. Smith.

At season’s end, following a 4-1 record, Chargers’ Chairman of the Board and President Dean Spanos’ announcement to retain both was rationalized in these terms:

 

• Mitigating circumstances: the Chargers were hard hit by injuries, especially to the offensive line. When everyone was healthy, the team performed.
• Support from the players: Turner’s stock in the locker room runs high, especially with Philip Rivers. He’s a “players’ coach.”
• Short-term mediocre goal: apparently Smith and Turner are the pair entrusted with “getting us back to the play-offs.” Not win a Super Bowl…just get the team back in the playoffs.

There are a number of business lessons to be learned by examining Spanos’ decision.

Substitute a highly-compensated sales team for the Chargers and dissect the issues. Simply put, the team underperformed. As the owner of the business you have a number of options. The first is to look at sales manager and judge the effectiveness of how the team has been led. The second is to examine the sales team members. Are they motivated? Do they have the right skills? How do they perform when the business climate is tough?

A team that doesn’t perform, yet lauds the manager, usually indicates that the leader is not holding the group accountable. There are few consequences for not achieving goals. At times, the inmates are running the asylum.

The equivalent of injuries in business is turnover. Leaders understand that if a key employee leaves the company the tasks, activities and responsibilities of that employee do not disappear. Cross-training is essential. Someone needs to immediately step in and perform at an equally high level. Good leaders always have a bench or prospective employees that can be recruited. Great leaders examine what drove the turnover.

One of the signs of a poorly run business is reducing goals and expectations to better reflect results. In other words, lower expectations. Didn’t achieve the new account goal? Let’s lower the number for next month, quarter, or year. Don’t meet the goal again? Lower it again.

If you owned a business with equivalent results and made the same decision that Spanos did, you would be courting disaster. You might lose your customers. Without customers you might lose the business.

But of course, in the National Football League no one “loses the business.” They merely shop the franchise to another city.

 

2011, That Was the Year That Was

The last day of the year, certainly the traditional point where nearly everyone looks back and reflects on the past 364 days.  Even those who lead unexamined lives might have that rare moment of introspection on this day. 

Another of the more frequent indulgences is to create “best of…” lists.  The newspapers and cyber space are teeming with pundits extolling the virtues of their list.  In keeping with that idea, here are my thoughts about the best books and movies of the year.

Our children, Justin and Liz, visited over Christmas and both are voracious readers.  Of course, you might say, as those who know me know also that I read and listen to well over a hundred books each year.  Both kids, however, came into their reading phase rather late in their short lives.  Justin once wrote an English class them on Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy without reading the book.  I am still uncertain that he has ever read John Le Carre’s best.

I mention the progeny because without them I would have a rather slim list of best books.  At Christmas 2010 I received a copy of Super Sad True Love Story by Gary Shteyngart.  A satiric view of a world where social networking has run amok, where everything is know about you to everyone, where bloggers are the new rock stars, and it takes an advanced degree to work in retail.  More school does not, in Shteyngart’s imagined world, equal more knowledge, let alone wisdom.  Mixed in with the baby boomers’ collective, ongoing battle against aging, maybe even maturing, and you have an incredibly funny, yet super sad, love story.

In a visit to the Bay Area, Justin handed me another book, Ron Rash’s Serena, a tale set in a logging camp in North Carolina.  In the opening scene, encouraged by his new wife, George Pemberton kills the father of a young girl, a girl Pemberton has impregnated.  Serena Pemberton, though, is the true face of evil in this novel.  Strong willed, sexually dominant, ruthless, she manipulates those around her to acts of mayhem and murder.  The most evil woman character since Annie Wilkes, Stephen King’s less-than-angelic nurse in Misery.

Let the Great World Spin allows me to give Liz more than a nod.  Colum McCann takes Phillipe Petit’s incredible tightrope walk across the chasm of the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in August 1974 and weaves tales of those who have witnessed the event or whom the event has impacted.  A pair of Irish brothers, one of them a priest living among whores on the East Side, the judge who arraigns Petit and his wife, a wealthy woman who has joined a group of mothers grieving the loss of their sons in Viet Nam, recovering drug addict artists living in the 1920s, and a photographer whose oeuvre is the graffiti on New York subways. 

It was slim pickings cinematically as well.  Good, not great movies, or as pal Jerry Warren and I judge: Movie or Film? 

2011 was the year of Mad Men, as we watched all four seasons thanks to Netflix.  That’s 52 episodes if you’re counting.  The best film, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.  Also getting a nod, Moneyball.

The Wonderful World of Malt Disney

Having herded the LAZ management into committees I found myself standing in front of a locked cabinet at The Carnegie Abbey Club, a private golf resort in Portsmouth, Rhode Island.  The cabinet held an impressive collection of single malt whisky, and not just the usual suspects. 

"Do you have any questions?"

I turned to see the Abbey's bartender, Steve Healy, in that quintessential publican pose, polishing a glass.  When Steve ascertained that my single malt chops were of an above average level he invited me to sit a table and talk whisky.  He placed a pewter cup on the table between us and asked me if I knew what it was.  "A quaich," I answered.  And then he quizzed me on the purpose of this ceremonial drinking vessel of the Scots.


Members of your family or honored friends and guests were allowed to share from the cup.  At weddings, according to Steve, the wedding party would all drink from the quaich with the last sip taken by the groom who would then kiss the bottom to seal the marriage.*

Steve was featured in a Golf Digest article dedicated to exploring the proverbial "19th Hole".  His encyclopedic knowledge of whisky has earned him the nickname "Malt Disney."  Steve bartended a private dinner the next dinner where I was a guest and he honored me by building a wonderful vertical tasting of a trio of single malts, all served in the quiach.  Despite the suggestion that I must be drinking out of the dog's bowl, I educated my LAZ friends and soon had them sharing a sip of the water of life.

During the course of the evening I had four generous measures, tempered with wonderful food, and two Payne-Mason Corojo cigars, a seven hour endeavor. 

Thanks to Malt Disney for a wonderful evening.

We began with Bowmore, a rather light Islay whisky, moved to The Balvenie, and topped off the evening with Oban. 

Slainte.

The Neighbor

On my way to Rhode Island, I made a brief stop in my hometown of Chicago, IL.  Determined to keep my string of consecutive days working out intact, I donned shorts, teeshirt, and running shoes and did a brisk 4-mile walk.  My folks live in Chicago proper, near Chicago and Western avenues, two of the major arteries in the city of broad shoulders.  The neighborhood is in the process of gentrification, with the original cottages-type homes, two- or three-flats, and bungalows being razed to make room for three-storey single family dwellings, usually made of stone or granite. 

The house shown below is on the 2300 block of Huron Street, a "side-street" in Chicago parlance.

This is, as they say in museum parlance, a permanent display.  A closer examination revealed that this army of stuffed gee-gaws was weather-beaten. This wasn't their first rodeo.  Notice the huge paving stone that anchors the lawn chair upon which is seated a member of an unknown avian species with Hispanic leanings.  Not to be aoutdone, a bulky red coat is perched in a plastic chair made from recycle water bottles.  Negotiating the stairs to enter the house appears to require the nimbleness of the Walendas.

But can you imagine if this was YOUR next-door neighbor. 

Here is the poster-child for a good set of CC&Rs (Convenants, Conditions & Restrictions).  Almost makes you nostalgic for the branch of the Dukes of Hazzard family that merely did major engine overhauls in their front yard.

*Do Scottish Jews wrap the quaich in linen and stomp it?  I don't know.  This may require more research.  This research would require more drinking from a quaich.  In the words of my buddy Greg Strangman, "It's all good!"

The Pledge, Florida--State of Morons, Economics California Style

Dateline, Eugene, Oregon

The City Council of the People's Republic of Eugene, Oregon, has eschewed the recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance. Mayor Kitty Piercy called the Pledge of Allegiance divisive. “If there’s one thing the flag stands for,” Piercy says, “it’s that people don’t have to be compelled to say the Pledge of Allegiance or anything else.”


Mayor Kitty fashions herself as a citizen of the world.

What a crock of shit.


Take your act to Chad, Somalia, one of the -stans, or even France, England, or Germany and see how it plays.  Many Americans find it trendy to apologize for their country.  These are the same people who, when visiting foreign countries, pretend they are Canadians.  Or, in the George W. years, could be heard saying "He's not MY president."

I am proud to be an American.  I wore a baseball cap from my 30th reunion from the Naval Academy to the French Open last year.  There is an American flag on the front and the rather odd "Flower Children of the Brigade" embroidered on the back.  (That schizophrenia must be explained in a later posting.)  I wore the hat in Italy.  Wore it last year in Scotland.  In my travels I have observed that people are fiercely proud of their countries.  The French love France, the Italians are proud to be Italians (except for some Romans who still bristle as the Risorgimento), and the Scots...don't even go there.  Criticize their country and you better be prepared to practice the sweet science of boxiana.  They will kick your ass.

These folks also don't consider themselves "citizens of the world."  What does that even mean?

Here's my advice to the wrongheaded, supercilious, bilious members of the Eugene city council.  This is America.  Resign and let an American have the job...you can send your resumes out to the world and see if there are any takers for spineless twerps.  Oh, and Ms. Mayor, I'm exercising my freedom of speech.

You're an asshole.

Florida

Floridians have proven they lack the mental sophistication to read an election ballot, and, after reading it, have demonstrated the inability to properly push a pin through the same ballot.  Let's face it, when it comes to voting, they struggle.

But really, people.  A hot-looking party girl neglects to report that her 2-year old daughter is missing for 31 days, and the best you can come up with is a charge of lying to authorities?  Maybe Amanda Knox should request a change of venue to Florida.  Did anyone do any research to find out if the O.J. Simpson jury was transported to the Sunshine State?

There is so much wrong with the Casey Anthony story that it beggars the mind.  If Casey looked like Mayor Kitty Piercy you wouldn't have even heard about the trial.  This trial was another in the long line of narcotizing events designed to numb us to real issues, like the two wars we're fighting, and the debt ceiling debate. 

Economics

Governor Moonbeam and the state legislatures have offered up a budget that it heavily reliant on a rather rosy view of revenues improving.  This is akin to any of us going out and booking an enormously expensive vacation, or buying a Lamborghini, or moving into a new McMansion, because we're expecting to make more money next year than we did this year.

When this happens on a personal basis it leads to bankruptcy or foreclosure.  When it happens at the government level it leads to...nothing.

The Highland Games, Proper Care and Feeding of Your Humidor, and a Deadhead Sticker

The Highland Games

Picture the rolling hills of Scotland, heather and grass, a green so deep that it hurts your eyes.  Perhaps a beautiful loch or an imposing glen in the background.  Och, aye, the Highland Games.  Caber tossing, hurling a Braemar stone, throwing the hammer, and any number of other feats of skill and strength.  Perfectly idyllic.

While Brengle Terrace Park in Vista, CA is a long way from the Highlands, it was the home of the San Diego version of the Highland Games.  Large men and women were throwing large things about on a baseball field devoid of grass.  And while Brengle Terrace is a bit urban, it does have expanses of grass and more than a few rolling hills.  Highland dancing, sheep dog competitions, piping contests, and music.  Opening ceremonies included a parade of the clans, with the Wallace clan predictably shouting "Freedom!" and the MacLaren's marching about with arms thrust into rather disturbing sheep puppet facsimiles...don't go there; I didn't.

We heard two terrific bands, Highland Way, anchored by Brian Caldwell, a native Glaswegian, and The Wicked Tinkers, a bagpipes and drums led by Aaron Shaw, also featuring a rather interesting contribution by that odd Australian instrument, the didgeridoo.

And a stop to see my good friend, Ray Pearson, The Whiskeymeister (check him our on Facebook.)  Ray plied me with a wee dram of Glenrothes and we planned the next meeting of the Vice Squad, of which I proudly serve as Vice Chairman.  We are devoted to single malts and cigars, two noble vices worthy of Winston Churchill's admiration.

For those who must hear the strains of pipes and drums, click above.

Care and Feeding of Your Humidor

At a recent meeting of the Del Mar Cigar Club, Jim Boldt of Payne-Mason Cigars gave us a lesson on preparing and maintaining our humidors.

1.) The humidor should be lined with Spanish cedar.
2.) Make certain that when you close the lid, you don't hear a noisy crack, but instead a soft thunk.  Think of the door of a Mercedes Benz closing.  If you hear a crack or slap, the seal is not sufficient to keep your cigars at the proper humidity.
3.) Before putting your wee darlings into the humidor, cure the humidor by lightly spraying a cloth with distilled water and wiping down the interior.  Do this several times a day.  The cedar's pores will close, thus preventing the wood from absorbing water.
4.) Keep the humidor away from direct sunlight.
5.) 70 degrees in temperature, 70% humidity.
6.) Use a digital hygrometer.
7.) Unless you intend to keep the cigars for longer than a year, remove them from their cellophane wrapper.
8.) If you intend to keep the cigar for extended period of time before you destroy it in a small fire, then cut the cellophane at the point where it folds in on itself, thus opening the end that you light to the air.

Who knew?

Apologies to Don Henley

"Out on the road today, I saw a Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac..."
From The Boys of Summer

My friend and fly-fishing buddy, Gary Farrar, and a Deadhead sticker on his Cadillac.

San Francisco, Everyone's Favorite Weiner, Kilt X 3

San Francisco opened its pearly gates in more ways than one.  Lynn and I flew up to the Bay Area because both of the kids happened to be performing last weekend.  Liz performed in a modern dance show at Z Space while Justin backed old Birdmonster pal Peter Arcuni, aka, Sonny Pete at Cafe du Nord.

We spent Friday night in The City at Hotel Adagio, one of the many Joie de Vivre properties in the Bay Area.  The company was founded by Chip Conley, who remains active as Chief Culture Officer, and it remains the largest boutique hotel group in California, second nationally.  When we opened the door to our upgraded room we discovered a pleasant surprise.

In order to make guest stays even more memorable, this from a hotel group whose philosophy is that your visit should give you an "identity refresh", the associates can create Dreammakers.  Our Dreammaker was a basket stuffed with Scottish treasures: Irn Bru, Smarties, Maltesers, shortbread and oatbread cookies...er...biscuits...and a wee nottle of Famous Grouse.  The perfect gift, made more so because Ron Ryan and his staff has done their homework.  They knew that this "platinum rule" type gift would be appreciated.

We used material from Chip's book Peak: How Great Companies Get Their Mojo From Maslow for a Renaissance Executive Forum's Strategies for Success program.  I knew about, lectured about, and gave examples of Dreammakers.  Until you experience it firsthand, however, you have no idea of the power of that gesture.

This is why I am a raving fan not only of Joie de Vivre Hospitality, but in those markets where they don't have a property, boutique hotels in general.

The Weiner
Everyone has a new favorite Weiner, Representative Anthony Weiner, who clearly has made a gigantic ass of himself.  First, major and repeated lapses in judgment by Tweeting photos of his bulging Y-fronts to young women in their twenties.  Second, lying about it and casting about for some nefarious hacker.
Third, standing up and shrilly claiming that what he did was not illegal.  Maybe not, Weiner, but it was really, profoundly, deeply, freakin' stupid.

Fortunately he didn't trot out his wife to stand beside him while he made his apologia, as the U.S. Senator who proclaimed "I have a wide stance" did.  These tragic women look like they've chewed a handful of valium to muster up the stomach to stand by their reprehensible men.

Weiner is also guilty of arrogance. 

He vows that he will not resign.

Do us all a favor.  Resign.

Kilt
When I purchased my kilt last summer in Glasgow, the immediate concern was "where will I wear this?"  A pointless question, as it turns out.  In the past two weeks I have three occasions to don the Black Watch kilt.  Two weeks ago I attened a Cigar and Beer Pairing Evening at Stone Brewing.  Then Lynn and I went to the La Jolla Playhouse to watch a delightful comedy set on a fictitious Hebridean island, A Dram of Drummhichit.  Last evening, 6 Degrees, an extraordinary networking organization run by Matt Greene, sponsored another cigar evening, featuring not only the fine cigars handmade by Payne-Mason, but frequent and generous pours of The Macallan.

And not just the 12-year, but 15-year, 17-year and cask strength.  Brilliant!