The best way to never be taken seriously… is to ask to be taken seriously.
Tornadoes completely ripped through Oklahoma today, leaving carnage and destruction in its wake, and many are probably dead as a result. But instead, today I am going to focus on the Billboard Music Awards, which aired last night.
I love these shows. When a big awards event is scheduled to air on a Sunday night, I know I will never be lacking for material to blog about the following day. Anytime you pack so many egos in a room, essentially inviting them all to one-up each other through their performances and their gimmicks, it’s like a clash of the titans. Shit is going to go down. It also means by blog is going to become TMZ for a day.
And boy did it ever go down last night.
But before I delve into it, I need to point out a simple human observation.
Everyone wants to be respected. If you don’t have the respect of your peers, then nothing you do will really ever be taken seriously. And there is probably no greater way to insult somebody then to not take them seriously as a person. Being the butt of every joke, or being constantly laughed at, is flat-out humiliating.
So as humans, we are embarking on a never-ending quest to be taken seriously. That doesn’t necessarily mean we are desperately seeking people’s approval. What it means is that we want people to accept us for who we are, and what we’re trying to accomplish in life — whether they approve or not. That is real respect.
And If you don’t have that, well, then the one way to ensure you will never have it — is to ask for it. Outright asking to be taken seriously is barely a step above begging, and, if anything, it’s going to make people view you in an even lower regard.
Well, that’s exactly what Justin Bieber did last night.
Justin Bieber somehow managed to win a “Milestone Award” during the festivities last night. Upon stepping up to the stage, he was greeted with loud jeers from the audience, to which he responded by essentially staring everyone down for several awkward seconds before finally speaking. At which, he delivered what may be the greatest quote in our young century thus far:
“I really just want to say, it really should be about the music. It should be about the craft that I’m making. This is not a gimmick, I’m not — I’m an artist, and I should be taken seriously. And all this other bull should not be spoken of.”
We forget that Justin Bieber is still just a 19-year-old. Some will have him permanently ingrained in their minds as a 14-year-old with a mushroom cut, and others may feel like he’s been around so long that they forget he’s just a kid.
It’s hard for me to be overly critical of a 19-year-old. However, this doesn’t make him look too good. And it’s not going to help anything.
Nobody likes being booed, but sometimes you just have to roll with the punches.
And speaking of the Biebs, check out the reaction of Taylor Swift when she spotted her friend Selena Gomez giving a smooch to her ex-boyfriend!
That’s the most “Whatever” facial expression one can possibly make.
So what else happened during last night’s Billboard Music Awards? Taylor gave yet another fun, flirtatious performance of her song “22,” rocking tight short-shorts along the way. Not that I am one to complain about that, but I do kind of miss Taylor’s refined, more subtle performances where she used to not care about gimmicks or flashiness. But… I don’t know about you, she’s just feeling 22. I guess.
Speaking of subtle performances, it’s for that reason why my two favorite performances of the night were by Ed Sheeran and Kacey Musgraves (The videos will probably be taken down before the night is over.) There was no choreography, no flashing lights, no ugly costumes — just singing. And damn good singing.
You want to talk about earning respect? That is how you do it. Justin, learn from Ed and Kacey.
Oh and in case you missed it, Miguel dropkicked a girl.
And yeah, that was like an actual, full-on dropkick, WWE style.
If you’re wondering who Miguel is, he’s actually a pretty talented R&B singer who a Grammy this past year.
But I can honestly watch that in a loop over and over again. He couldn’t have reciprocated a move like that if he tried a hundred times. He also has surprising little ups for a black man. If you look closely, he also stomps out another girl’s face with his left foot.
Don’t worry though, they laughed about it backstage.
Apparently another good way to be taken seriously is to accidentally leg drop a girl, and then laugh about it afterwards. Maybe I’ll try that the next time I’m at a bar.
So that’s all the memorable moments from last night’s festivities. I hope you all enjoyed the recap.
I also just saw a newsflash on NBC cough*inbetweencommercialbreaksforthevoice*cough about the Oklahoma tornadoes, and they said that at least 51 people are dead. So this is actually pretty devastating news that we will probably be hearing about for a while.
It reminds me of when I was in Memphis in 2011 and found myself stuck in a museum because a tornado warning was happening. I remember finding the whole situation amusing, since as an east coaster, I had never been anywhere near a tornado in my life.
But after seeing something like this — and excuse the Bieber pun — I now fully understand why the natural, raw power of a tornado absolutely must be taken seriously. Prayers out to OKC.
News stories become a lot more newsworthy when good-looking people are involved
“Thousands of people die every single day.”
That’s the one thing we need to reassure ourselves each day upon watching the news, and hearing about the latest story about someone who died. Unfortunately, among those thousands, news outlets are able to handpick the ones they wish to report, whether it’s because of its unique nature, the age or the physical appearance of the victim or perpetrator, its location, etc.
Casey Anthony is a pretty good example. She was a terrible mother who “allegedly” abandoned and/or killed her child. It sucks — but incidents like that happen much too often. So why did it become national news? Because Casey Anthony was young and attractive. That’s pretty much the only reason.
There’s no questioning the tragedy when a 3-year-old dies, but, let’s face it. If her mother was 50-years-old and fat, the story may have been reported for a day, and no more. It’s just the way it is. Physical appearances capture our attention — always have. Always will. Whether’s it’s passersby on the street, or a murder suspect, one of the first things we notice about someone is the way they look.
That all being said, sometimes news outlets are handed the perfect storm of a news story — a pretty, young girl who was killed under suspicious circumstances, in a prominent town.
This week, they received just that with Andrea Rebello.
I’m not entirely sure just how national this news has become — but I’m assuming it’s being discussed to some extent across the country. However, it’s major news here in Long Island because that’s exactly where it occurred. Rebello was a 21-year-old junior at Hofstra University who was shot dead during a botched robbery early in the morning between Thursday and Friday. Among her housemates included her twin sister.
That in itself is enough to capture people’s attention. A young girl who is simply trying to make her way through college ended up dead because some scumbags chose to break into the house she was living in. And there’s two of her.
But what’s made the story even more captivating is that Rebello wasn’t just pretty, she was gorgeous.
I mean, there’s really no other way to spin that. She’s gorgeous. A guy like me would be thrilled to one day find himself in the acquaintance of a girl like that.
So that’s what happened. A beautiful girl died during a home invasion.
But that’s not all.
I remember reading the articles pertaining to this story on Friday and early Saturday. As someone who works in journalism, I found it remarkable how little news was being revealed. Normally when something significant like this happens, the news is fairly clear-cut — the gist of it, at least.
Man breaks into home. Man kills girl. Police kill man.
However, the articles were all shockingly murky over what happened. Everything I read was specifically candid about the fact that nobody knew who killed the girl. That caught my attention, and immediately alerted me that there was more to this case than meets the eye.
Well late Saturday night the facts started to trickle out: the girl was shot dead — not by the burglar — but by police.
Oh snap.
As far as I am reading, the burglar held Rebello in a headlock while surrounded by police, held a gun to her head and said he was “going to kill her.” When he turned his gun away from her and onto police, an unnamed officer shot eight times at the man — seven hit him, one found its way to Rebello’s head, killing her.
Damn. I mean, that’s a bomb drop if I ever heard one. Imagine the girl’s parents, already heartbroken over the loss of their daughter, only to learn that the bullet that caused her death was fired by the people who were supposed to be protecting her.
And eight shots? Really? When the girl is in clear view, being headlocked, aren’t cops trained to show a little more discretion in such scenarios? I’m no cop, but isn’t it common sense to not fire unless you’re certain that potential innocent victims are out of harm’s way? And even if you are confident in your sharpshooting abilities, shouldn’t you only shoot like… once?
I for one was shocked when I heard the news. Because I knew that the story, which was already big, just became massive. And it’s not going away for a long time.
Police have kept the officer’s name from going public for obvious reasons. However, it’s going to come out eventually. Right now, he is on “sick leave,” which basically means “Stay the fuck home and don’t show your face anywhere until we figure out how to figure out this clusterfuck you caused.”
So now you have everything. Beautiful girl, murder, and wrongful death. It’s the type of story that FOX, NBC and CNN drool over.
That is a picture of Rebello (right) with her twin sister Jessica, since I knew you all were wondering.
It’s an interesting dynamic. Incidents like this, when the victim happens to be incredibly attractive, tend to draw more sympathy. Case and point — this blog. Do you think I would be talking about this right now if Rebello didn’t look the way she did?
It’s not to say that I, or anyone else, wouldn’t have been sympathetic prior to seeing what she looked like — not at all. This is a girl who was just living life the way we’re supposed to — attending college, learning a craft and readying herself for the world. Break-ins, guns and shootouts aren’t supposed to factor into that equation.
Additionally, this happened right here in my backyard. So my sympathy was had long before this. But when I did see what she looked like, I’d be a liar to say my attention and sympathies didn’t increase exponentially.
Regardless, a girl is dead, right at the end of the school year, and that sucks. She was shot by a police officer, which sucks even more. I can only imagine the relief this girl and her roommates must have experienced to see the police arrive, and knowing that, finally, they were safe and sound. Little did they know that their arrival was a death sentence.
That “sick leave” better become a whole lot more, and soon.
Has it become obsolete to ask a girl out through a phone call?
There was once a time in my life when I thought that calling a girl up and asking her on a date was the most harrowing task known to mankind.
It’s such a vulnerable scenario. With one phone call, and one question, you are putting yourself completely out there. You make your proposition, you try to be confident and keep your voice steady, and you wait momentarily while the girl responds. Either she says yes, or she says no.
It was that ultimatum that used to scare me. For a few seconds, you held your breath while awaiting a response. By the end of the phone call, you’re either jumping for joy or jumping off a ledge in disappointment. 
This is something that girls don’t experience. Because they are the ones who are asked, and not the askees. They can’t comprehend how difficult this is for men. And it’s only fair, I suppose. They have to go through labor, and we have to endure the embarrassment and pain of asking a girl out. That’s fair, right?
Anyway, looking back now, I realize that all of those things that used to frighten me about making that phone call — I now envy. And miss.
Somewhere in the last two or three years, the act of telephoning a girl and asking her if she’d like to accompany you for a Saturday night out on the town has become obsolete. It’s extinct. Everyone has a smart phone now, so texting has become the expected form of communication for all situations.
Need to contact a client? Text message.
Need to wish someone a happy birthday? Text message.
Need to inform your friend of a funny occurrence that just happened to you? Text message.
There was that awkward in-between time in the past year or so, when not everyone had smart phones yet, when you wondered what was the appropriate way to ask a girl out. Call or text?
In my own personal experience, the decision wasn’t determined by laziness. It also wasn’t determined by cowardice. It’s simply because I just don’t know what girls prefer anymore.
It’s gotten to the point where I feel like I am inconveniencing a girl by calling her. Because people just flat-out don’t call one another anymore.
So I, like most (if not all) guys, used to dread those few seconds — which felt much longer at the time — while I waited for a girl’s response. However, I never realized how luxurious it was to only have to wait a few seconds.
Text messaging has made the process so much more convoluted that it’s become flat-out ridiculous. I swear, one time it actually took me three full weeks to ask a girl out. Because when you send the text, the girl has the liberty of responding whenever the hell she wants. She can respond in five minutes if she wants (she won’t), she can respond in one hour (still won’t), she can respond in five hours (if you’re lucky), or she might even wait the next day.
Late responses have become so commonplace that excuses aren’t even necessary anymore. And not only that, but when they do respond it’s never – never — yes or no. It’s “Maybe”. It’s “Let me get back to you.” It’s ”Hmm, I have plans that day, but I could be done early. I’ll let you know.”
Texting has given girls the ability to avoid having to be direct. They don’t have to respond with a simple yes or no. Sometimes, my feeble attempt at asking a girl out leads to a back and forth conversation, that, several texts later — it occurs to me that the girl may not even know that I am trying to ask her out.
So the question becomes — are there actually females out there who still wouldn’t be fazed if a guy called them to ask them out? Or am I right in my thinking that all human interaction and correspondence is now expected to occur via text message?
Is there still hope, or has the method gone extinct by way of the dinosaurs?
There was a time when I used to have an internal debate over texting and calling. But now I feel that the debate has been settled for me. Technology has won.
Technology has won.
When did it stop becoming cool to want to be an astronaut?
When you were young, what did you want to be when you grew up?
It’s one of the most common questions to be asked when you’re in elementary school. It’s a question that is not meant to be taken too seriously — and nowhere near the same context as when you were asked this question as a 10th grader sitting in the office of your 
guidance counselor.
Instead, the question is asked for fun. It must be amusing for teachers — and adults in general — to see how little kids responded when posed with a question about their future careers. For one, it’s an interesting social experiment. You can learn what jobs kids even know about at such a young age.
Everybody’s elementary school yearbook probably even asked this question. And if you were to go back and survey it, the answers would probably all be the same — professional athletes, movie star, rock singer, etc.
You’d never see somebody answer the question with bank manager or certified public accountant. As kids, we dreamed big. Heck, we dreamed so big, that our imaginations exceeded normal jobs. Our imaginations took us beyond the realms of societal standards, away from noisy offices, tall buildings and busy cities — heck, they even took us out of our own planet.
Think about it. Remember. When we were kids, how often did we dream about wanting to see the moon, see the stars? How many of you ever said — “I want to be an astronaut.”
Becoming an astronaut may be one of the biggest pipe dreams known to mankind. The most delusional kids still cling on to hopes of becoming a famous actor or actress, or a professional baseball player into their teenage years. But no one ever maintains the notion that they have any chance of ever becoming an astronaut.
When we’re 4 or 5, then yeah. We don’t know any better. The world was so big to us — so what made outer space any different? We could go there if we wanted. But once we hit age 8, even then we knew how unrealistic it would be for us to ever pursue a career beyond our planet’s atmosphere. So we gave it up. And we forgot about it.
In the last 10 years, how many people have you met who still had aspirations of becoming an astronaut?
It saddens me a little because I feel that loss in desire corresponds with a loss of innocence, or a loss of imagination. The day we stop dreaming of becoming an astronaut might be the same day we stop believing in Santa Claus.
But the thing that people might forget is that people really do become astronauts. And I really hope that our youth doesn’t forget that.
There is plenty of magic still to be discovered in outer space.
And that magic can be seen in this video right here. Watch. Trust me.
Chris Hadfield is quickly becoming one of the most famous astronauts since, well, Neil Armstrong? Tom Hanks? Alright fine — let’s say John Glenn. Most people know him, right?
If you search Chris Hadfield on YouTube, you will find tons of videos with him conducting wacky and interesting experiments while in outer space. He seems to have quite the endearing personality, and he is making a name for himself among people who never even had the faintest interest in outer space.
So then what does he go and do? He records the song “Space Oddity” by David Bowie — in space. My first thought is how difficult a decision it must have been for him to choose between that song and Rocket Man. Both would have been equally as poignant, I think.
But hey, even David Bowie himself appreciated this version, calling it “the most poignant version of the song ever created.”
If you can watch that video and not find yourself reminiscing about that childlike wonder you once had, and about how you used to dream of the impossible — then I feel bad for you.
When we were 5 years old, the thought of becoming an astronaut was as cool as being a rock star. That obviously changed as we aged. But I truly, truly, hope, that 5-year-olds today don’t feel the same way. I hope dreaming of becoming an astronaut is still as cool as it ever was.
This video will help.
The art of being politically correct
I don’t think anybody can neglect to acknowledge how politically correct our nation has become. I speak specifically of our nation because, well, I’m American. I don’t know what the heck is going on in other countries. It may be the case elsewhere as well, but I can only speak of what I’ve noticed here in my homeland.
First of all, what is politically correct? You hear it all of the time, but don’t always pause to think of its meaning.
Without actually looking it up, it essentially means to try to say the right things to appease everyone all of the time. It’s the way politicians talk, hence the name. To succeed in politics, you need everybody to like you. To accomplish that, you have to avoid saying
anything controversial all of the time. You can never let your guard down — you have to compliment people a lot, and you have to treat everybody like human beings.
So the question becomes — why does everybody need to be politically correct? Not everybody is running for elected office.
Well, the answer is simple. Social media. Ten years ago, if you were not famous, you could live as freely as you wanted to. As long as you didn’t physically assault people, or shout racially charged obscenities on the street, then you could pretty much get away with a lot of stuff, and most people would be none the wiser.
But now, with Twitter, with Facebook, with Instagram, it’s all out there for the world to see.
Of course, the more well-known you are, the more politically correct you must become. If you work in a profession that requires a positive reputation — like as a doctor, a teacher or a professional athlete — then, naturally, you have more of a responsibility to keep your nose clean.
For the rest of us, who are barely known outside of our circle of friends, there’s much less of an obligation to do so.
But still. You never know. In today’s and age, where everyone is just one Tweet away from becoming famous, you just don’t know what’s going to happen. About 2,000 things go viral every day — one day it could be you.
Let’s do an exercise right now. I want everybody to take a look at their last 10 Tweets. Of them, how many can be used to misrepresent you in any way or form? Do they contain curses? Do they carry any hint of bigotry? Did you post a nude photo? “I was just kidding,” or “I didn’t think anybody would actually see it,” isn’t going to work anymore.
If you answered yes to any of those, and you suddenly became famous overnight, you’re screwed. And if you’re a girl and answered yes to the last question, email me. But seriously, just take a look at Sorority Girl. She was a nobody one month ago, then she sends a profanity-filled email, it goes viral and her Twitter gets exposed. Within days, she deletes her account, becomes the laughingstock of the Internet, and resigns from her sorority, effectively losing the one thing she had in life. She’s still hot as hell, though. And if you’re reading this, email me.
Learn from Sorority Girl.
And as a side note, if average people need to start using caution, just think about how careful actual politicians have to be. For Barack Obama to have the squeaky clean record that he has, it must mean he’s a pretty well-behaved dude. Because there’s nowhere to hide anymore. Am I right, Mitt Romney?
A rule of thumb that us regulars can go by is to always Tweet — or post on Facebook — like you’re going to become famous tomorrow. So if thousands of people were to flock to your Twitter feed, you won’t destroy your own image less than 24 hours into your newfound fame.
Even loyal readers will have noticed that my blog has become much more politically correct over the years. Do I still relentlessly mock stupid people, patterns and behaviors? Of course. But I try to do it with a little less venom. I try to swear less. Because you just never know.
I didn’t use as much discretion in the past. Consequently, if you Google search “Amanda Seyfried worst actress” or “Lent is stupid,” my blog comes up near the very top of the search results. That means that there is actually a semi-realistic chance that Amanda Seyfried could have stumbled upon my blog, if she was wondering one day about her public perception in a negative manner. Just think about that.
And Amanda, if you are reading, my opinion on your acting skills has actually changed since I saw Les Misérables. I thought you were phenomenal in it. Email me.
Anyway, the big worry I have with this nationwide transformation to political correctness is that it’s going to carry over to how people act. It’s one thing to worry about your Internet behavior, where there is an actual record. But what you don’t want to see is average people start to become monks in real life. I don’t need people to start congratulating me for no good reason via text message, or calling me “buddy” on Gchat. I just want people to act how they really are.
We’ll see how this goes. If the trend continues, then maybe we’ll be living in some Care Bear-like Utopia by 2020. That actually might be kind of cool.
Also, I’m glad I went this whole post without managing to say something that’s not politically correct.
Fuck all Canadians.
Whoops.
Arbitrarily numbered lists kill my soul
The evolution of social media has corresponded with the devolution of the average person’s attention span.
In fact, I’d have no problem saying that it’s a direct cause and effect. Social media has made it easier for us to access and process information quicker, simpler, and in greater bulk. Thus, it has certainly contributed to a minimization of people’s abilities to hold their attention on a single topic for lengthy periods of time.
That’s why social media has made a concerted effort to cater to this. Twitter is 140 characters. Facebook compiles everybody’s statuses one on top of another so you can view them all in a span of seconds. Viral YouTube videos usually last no longer than 45 seconds. Pinterest allows you to organize a barrage of photos one on page, like an array of vomit on your computer screen.
Honestly, I’ve yet to understand the appeal in Pinterest. But that’s a topic for another day.
People think that it’s a coincidence that Twitter’s 140-character limit just happens to perfectly accommodate to our society’s need to grasp information quickly. But I think that Twitter’s character limit has created our society’s need to grasp information quickly. It’s all subtle manipulation, and it’s worked.
So what’s another way that social media has managed to condense information, depreciate our attention spans and insult our intelligence all at the same time?
Lists.
Goodbye articles, lists are the new fad! Websites like Buzzfeed can mostly be blamed for it. Whether it’s reasons why the 90s were the best time period, or about how Facebook sucks, or why New York can become an aggravating place to live, or an actual list of the worst things in the world — these lists draw people to their website as easily as Channing Tatum in a wife beater draws women.
It’s amazing that nobody caught on to this sooner. Lists are perfect for this day and age. People get intimidated by articles — but who gets intimidated by lists? They fulfill everything on the ADD checklist.
- Condensed content: No lengthy paragraphs, no verbose descriptions, just a quick sentence about what it is.
- Conveniently arranged: The lists are all laid out in one page, numbered, one on top of the other. Just like a Facebook Newsfeed. How convenient! But think about it — how often do you actually read a list that has each number on a different page? When that happens to me, I ‘X’ it out 90 percent of the time. But Buzzfeed is too smart to do that.
- Pictures: In this case, you don’t even have to read the words. Pictures tell you the story. Absolutely mandatory for the ADD-ridden mind.
- No commitment: Articles and stories have a beginning, middle and end. To really grasp them, you pretty much have to read the whole thing. And if you want to stop midway, you have to at least read to the end of a paragraph. But with lists, there’s no such commitment. You can stop anytime. If you’re not enjoying the list, or find yourself becoming bored, you can simply exit the website after #4.
- Even this list right now describing why lists are convenient is subconsciously pleasing you: You see what I did there? I can be manipulative too! *Goes to point to his brain, misses, pokes self in eye.*
In fact, I’m surprised that a social media website based solely around lists hasn’t been invented yet. I’m sure someone is working on it right now. But I just wanted to put it out there, so when it does get created, I can say I thought of it first. And reap no other benefits at all.
Just think about what the most memorable and well-known part of David Letterman’s show is. The Top 10 List. Every night, about 15 minutes into his show, Dave holds up the blue card and says, “Ladies and gentleman, here’s tonight’s top 10 list!” And then everyone in 
the audience goes nuts. Lists are so simple and so dumbed-down, that they almost trigger some type of euphoria in our brain, like catnip does to a cat.
And Letterman has been doing it for more than two decades. The dude was way ahead of the game.
But what else do you notice about these Buzzfeed lists? As opposed to Letterman’s lists — which are perfectly rounded to the number 10 — these ones all start with a different number. And not only are they not different, but they’re not even rounded.
It’s never “25 reasons…” or “40 reasons…” Instead, it’s 22. Or 39. Or 17.
What the hell?!
I’m surprised that more people with OCD — the same people who absolutely must stop pumping gasoline at exactly 10 gallons — haven’t become outraged over this. And quite honestly, I don’t even think people truly notice.
In fact, I think the quirky numbers are all part of the manipulation. By having a list titled “34 reasons why Spongebob Squarepants is secretly a member of Al Qaeda,” it’s more likely to catch our attention. If a list started with 25, or 20, then that’s boring. It’s dull. Commonplace, even.
More importantly, it doesn’t catch our attention, and therefore nobody ever reads it. However, when it’s 26, or 31, our brain subconsciously realizes that something is wrong. “Lists shouldn’t start with that number,” our brain tells us. So we notice the list 
because of it, and then we actually read the title, and our interest is piqued. We click on it. We read it. We laugh. And then we share it on our Facebook walls.
This madness must stop!
I can’t be the first person that this has annoyed, can I?
Whenever I see somebody share one of these lists, I shake my head. Because they’ve been hoodwinked like a hamster on a wheel. But in the hamster’s case, at least it gets health benefits.
Consider this a public service announcement. Say ‘No’ to arbitrarily numbered lists.
Today I got called an angel.
When people call somebody an “angel,” it’s usually because they are commenting on how well-behaved somebody is. It’s mostly used towards children. Maybe two mothers are having a conversation on the line at the grocery store while their adolescent kids dilly-dally around. One of them is jumping up and down, complaining about wanting to go home. The other one, let’s call him Brett, sits quietly and patiently while he waits for his mother to complete her conversation.
The mother of the problem child will notice Brett’s behavior, and say, “Aw, your son is so well-behaved! He’s an angel.”
Of course, in this context, it really means that he is simply doing the right thing. Because that is what angels epitomize — goodness. Typically depicted in all white clothing, with a golden hue and a halo, angels are a universal symbol for benevolence.
But you rarely hear somebody actually refer to somebody as an angel for their other meaning. In Christianity, angels are actually 
viewed as descendants from Heaven who do God’s work on Earth.
The reason you never hear it in this context is simple. Not many people deserve it. The majority of people are not angelic. If a guy runs into a burning building to save an entire family, then yes, he’s an angel. In every sense. But most people don’t do such things, and thus, for the most part, we all go our lives devoid of ever being given such a compliment.
I myself am the furthest thing from an “angel,” in its religious meaning or any other interpretation. Do I try to do the right thing the majority of the time? Sure. But there are many, many other people in this world who are doing way more good than I ever will. And rightly so. In a million years, I’d never expect to be called an angel, and I’m perfectly 100-percent fine with that.
Except for the fact that I was called one today.
On May 9, I was sincerely, genuinely and wholeheartedly likened to an angel. And I must say – with equally as much sincerity – that it was probably the nicest compliment I have ever, and will ever, receive.
Let’s rewind the calendar back to three months ago to where it all began.
Last February, In the days leading up to Valentine’s Day, I was at work, trying to think of a story to work on. With the upcoming “holiday,” it occurred to me that it might be a great idea to write a Valentine’s Day feature story. And what better than a feature story about an elderly couple? People love that stuff, right? Romance, love, happily ever after, all that crap.
So I dialed a couple of senior living homes in the area, and asked if they’d be interested in me coming down and interviewing one of their elderly couples. It’s a win-win — I get my story, they got the positive press, and the couple gets to be featured in the newspaper. Win-win-win, you could even call it.
I hear back from one of the homes the following day, saying that they would be interested, and they even have a couple picked out for me. I later learned that, unfortunately, since such homes exist only for those who are at the end of their lives, that not many couples really stay together in these facilities, since one of them eventually dies. But they found one for me nonetheless.
I sit down with the couple for an hour, and they are sweet, kind and loving people. I really felt like I got to know them in the hourlong conversation. They had been married 65 years, and were both about 90. The wife was still effervescent, and looked at least 15 years younger than she really was. The husband, however, was clearly in ill-health. He was suffering from dementia, and really didn’t speak much during the interview. But he was jolly all of the same. He also did manage to say a few loving words about his wife.
Following our chat, I took a picture of them, and then asked if they had an older picture, which I thought could juxtapose nicely with the one I just took. Not only did they give me one, but the wife reached right onto her mantelpiece and gave me a huge framed portrait of their actual wedding photo from 1947. Shocked, I said that I should take a different photo — one that carried less importance — but she insisted. I told her I’d get it scanned in the office, and bring it back immediately. She said she trusted me. I took that to heart.
It was a disgustingly snowy day, so I guarded the photo with my life, and went back to my office. I got it scanned, gathered my notes, and proceeded to write a lengthy story about the couple which I ended up putting on the front page of the newspaper. On the way home that day, I dropped it off back at their senior home, and that was the last interaction I had with the couple.
By the way, you can view that story here, if you’d like.
About one month later, I received a handwritten letter in my office mailbox. It was from one of the couple’s four daughters, who wrote me from Arizona to personally thank me for the story I wrote, and telling me how beautiful she found it. I was really touched, and I sent her an email back to tell her so. In my industry, it’s not often you get a thank you following a story, so it really did mean a lot. I even asked her if I could publish it as a Letter to the Editor, and she obliged.
So that was that. I figured that put a capper on that story, and I’d probably live my life devoid of any other interaction with this family.
That was, until today, when I received yet another email from that same daughter.
It read:
Dave,
With a heavy heart I wanted to let your know that my dad recently passed away on April 23. You wrote such a beautiful article about them for Valentine’s Day. They might have mentioned that my dad was in a very bad car accident about ten years ago and received serious head injuries. This accident left him with ongoing decline in health over the last ten years, of which, demencia finally took its toll. It was shortly after your interview and beautiful publication in the paper that my dad had a slight stroke, and this ultimately triggered the demencia which ended his life.
Your article was displayed as a celebration of his life and love for family. This testament of his undying love for my mom was the last time he was able to express his feelings for her before the dementia set in and took away the man my mother knew. Life works in a mysterious way and I believe that this article you wrote was meant for my dad to let my mom know that he will love her forever. Dave, if I were to believe in angels, you are one that was sent as a messenger to deliver this message of love so that my mom has comfort from the words spoken by my dad. As I mentioned in my first note, I could hear my dad saying the words that you wrote in your article…..so can my mom.
You can really only imagine my reaction upon reading that. It was the first thing in the morning, and this woman had just likened me to an angel from Heaven.
But it really wasn’t even that specific compliment that made me feel good, but knowing that I offered some comfort to this family during what must be one of the most difficult times in their lives. When I do my job, it’s to make people happy. I like featuring people in my newspaper who otherwise never would receive such an opportunity. But I never thought that I had the ability to actually provide somebody some relief during a trying time when they otherwise may never have gotten it.
This woman truly thinks that some divine intervention brought me to her family. I’m not one to really believe in that stuff, but whatever it was that made this come to fruition, I’m pretty glad it did.
Indeed, the world does work in very mysterious ways sometimes.
The last person in the world who still wanted to move to Cleveland just changed their mind
Cleveland has never exactly been a place that was considered a great tourist attraction.
They had LeBron James for a few years, and things were going pretty well, but even he packed up his bags and left. I’m sure there are some nice areas of Cleveland where one can dwell and receive a good education, but for the most part, it doesn’t exactly have the greatest reputation.
And now it just got worse. Much worse.
Normally when I discuss a news story I’ll post a link that provides a general description of the events to afford those who didn’t know what I was talking about an opportunity to catch up. But in this case, I do not think that is necessary.
Just Google the words “Amanda Berry” or “Ohio kidnappings,” and you’ll get hundreds of results. But just to sum up, three young girls, who were 14, 16, and 21, respectively, were kidnapped between the years of 2002 and 2004 in Cleveland. They were then discovered on May 6. Not May 6, 2005. Not even 2008. But May 6, 2013. As in this Monday.
Naturally, when someone goes missing for a decade, they’re eventually going to be presumed dead, even with the absence of hard evidence.
I’d go as far as saying after just one year of disappearing, and a lack of suspects or clues, that it would be safe to presume that the person is dead. One year is a long time.
So for these three girls to go missing for upwards of 10 years, survive, and maintain their will to live — it’s unfathomable. It’s one of those things that you’d see in a movie, and regardless of how good the movie is, you’d still stare at the closing credits and say, “Yeah, but… that would never happen.”
Well, it did. These three girls, Amanda Berry, now 27, Gina DeJesus, 23, and Michelle Knight, 30, were all kept chained in a basement for several years, were probably tortured, beaten and raped, and then escaped.
The three girls were rescued by a man named Charles Ramsey, who lived next door to the sadistic captor. He heard the screaming of Amanda Berry and proceeded to kick down the door to rescue the three girls.
It also just so happens that Ramsey happens to be one of the most awesome men to ever exist. I remember I posted a video of the uncle of the two kids who committed the Boston bombings, and said that guy was awesome. Well compared to Ramsey, that uncle sucks.
Watch this interview. Watch it right now.
“I knew something was wrong when a little pretty white girl ran into a black man’s arms. Something is wrong here. Dead giveaway. Deaaaad giveaway!”
Oh my God. That quote is absolutely golden. I’ve watched about three of his other interviews, and he’s equally as hilarious in all of them. The best part is that he never fails to start his dialogue with the fact that he was eating McDonalds, as if it’s an absolutely integral part of the story.
And by the way, after public demand, McDonalds has already said they are going to reward Ramsey soon.
This is just one of those stories that is just impossible to ignore. And what I mean by that is, when you first hear about big news, most people become too lazy to actually take the time to learn what the news is. We are all absorbed in our own lives, our own happenings, and to actually process a story means we have to do one of two things — read an actual article, or watch a news video.
For lazy people like me, that’s like asking us to climb a mountain. The prospect of having to sit still and read a full-length article is frightening.
But when you hear about the story from three different sources, there comes a time when you say, “Alright, I gotta read up on this shit.” This story definitely falls into that category.
Oh and just as an FYI, here is a photo of Amanda Berry, the one who screamed for Ramsey to rescue her. She has a child now, which presumably was fathered by one of her captors, which is just another crazy twist to this astounding story.
She is the middle one. Normally it’s a standard compliment to identify a girl as pretty, but here, I don’t know. It feels immoral for that to be my first thought after all that she’s been through. But yeah, she’s cute. Hey, at least I didn’t say, “I’d hit that.” Because that would just be wrong. Even just saying “At least I didn’t say that” is wrong. Perhaps I should just end this paragraph.
Honestly, the government just needs to give millions of dollars to these three girls, and let them do whatever the hell they want. After being held hostage for almost 10 years, they shouldn’t ever have to struggle to find work, or pay bills, or in Berry’s case, have trouble feeding her child. These girls deserve to live out their life experiencing nothing but happiness and joy.
And also, lost in the shock-factor of this story is the fact that some dude actually got away with holding three girls hostage in his basement for 10 years. Not only is he an absolute monster, but either he’s the greatest criminal mastermind our world has ever seen, or the Cleveland Police Department is just really, really bad at their jobs.
Another ringing endorsement for Cleveland.
I guess there’s no more appropriate way to leave off this post but by showing the Hastily Made Cleveland Tourism Video.
Perfect.
Cicadas are coming
Remember the old adage, “Ignorance is bliss?”
Well that is true in so many ways. It doesn’t take much explaining, either. People who are uneducated — and therefore know less — will, by default, have no knowledge of the shitty things our world has to offer. The smarter you become, the more aware you are of the world’s horrors. I’m not saying that the world is only comprised of horror, but, there is plenty out there. And enough to depress the shit out of you.
That’s why some of the most brilliant minds in our world either suffered from depression, schizophrenia or alcoholism. Albert Einstein. Mark Twain. Kim Kardashian.
Well today I learned about something, that, while interesting as hell — I also wish I never was made aware of it. So now I am going to share it with all of you!
Cicadas are coming. And like, badly.
This calendar year marks the onset of Brood II, which is the emergence of a specific breed of billions of cicadas on the east coast who resurface above ground every 17 years. The last time they showed themselves was in 1996, which according to my abacus, was precisely 17 years ago.
Apparently the 17-year-gap allows for juvenile development. Just weeks before their springtime emergence, the cicadas build exit tunnels in the soil to the surface. They mate, the females lay eggs, die, and after the eggs hatch, the baby insects go back below the soil, ready to emerge in another 17 years.
I think this is fascinating. Who knew that such a behavior could exist so consistently over such long intervals? Apparently, scientists have tracked this behavior as far back as 1843 (which was 170 years ago — or 10 cycles of Brood II.)
Just that it even has such a name — Brood II — is pretty cool. It sounds like a horror sequel. Which it may actually end up being for us humans.
What people really want to know is, how is this going to affect me? Well, lucky for us, cicadas do not sting or bite. But they can be pretty intense and loud creatures. And they’re not exactly small, so having one fly directly into your face would not be a pleasant experience.
All we can do is prepare for the cacophonous chirping noise that they make, and try not to become too alarmed if we see a couple latched on to nearby trees. It’s all part of nature, people. They’re just as scared of you as you are of them.
Most importantly, guys, if you’re out on a date — and you really want to impress a girl — don’t scream like a banshee upon seeing one. I may not be an expert on what girls like or don’t like, but I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t be too impressed by that.
But imagine living underground for 17 years? That’s like the real-life insect version of Blast from the Past. A lot of things have happened since 1996. These cicadas might be alarmed by the evolution of technology. They won’t even know how to react when they see people sitting on a park bench and fiddling around with their iPads. Or the existence of Justin Bieber. And Facebook. Shit, those bastards don’t even know that 9/11 happened yet, as The Onion humorously pointed out.
So I imagine I made people’s lives slightly worse by informing them of this onslaught of billions of cicadas that are going to enter our lives very soon. But I’m truly of the belief that knowledge is power. The more you know, whether it’s positive or negative, the better you could prepare yourself for this world.
Now you can also impress your friends by enlightening them about this bi-decade natural phenomena. Ask them if they’re excited for Brood II, and I bet you 100 dollars that they respond by asking if that is the new M. Night Shyamalan movie.
Notice how I’ve refrained from posting an image of a cicada, because nobody really wants to see that. Any closeup picture of an insect is always an unpleasant experience. So instead, I’m going to post a photo of the Gonzo the Muppet, who is by far cutest looking thing to ever exist that could possibly be identified as an insect. Unless you count Gilbert Gottfried.
Anyway, Brood II is only going to last about four weeks, so there’s no need to panic. Most relationships don’t even last that long.
At least mine don’t. In fact, in retrospect, Brood I, Brood II, Brood III, and so on, would make fitting titles for my past relationships.
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Parting your hair is cool again
While New Yorkers and east coasters alike enjoyed arguably the most beautiful day of the year so far, the jolly folk in the central time zone, namely in Moore, Oklahoma, had much rougher go of it.
Mainly because their city got destroyed by a tornado.
The two-mile wide tornado, which has killed at least two dozen people, left a fairly unprecedented wake of destruction. Heck, it was so bad that NBC sent all of their top guns to Oklahoma to film a special news report on the story, and are airing it right now
instead of The Voice, which is one of its top shows. Not that I would know that for any particular reason. A friend told me.
The tornado’s wind gusts reached speeds as high as 190 miles per hour, and injured hundreds. Yesterday, news outlets were reporting that 51 people had died, but that number appears to be inaccurate. The count is now at 24. Nine of them are children.
This photo is an aerial view of what used to be en elementary school. If you were to visit Moore for the first time today, and stumble upon that wreckage, you would not have the slightest clue as to what that building used to be. It was so badly damaged that its prior use is absolutely unrecognizable.
There’s really not much more to add about this. We can just continue to watch the news and see what statistics are spat out as us.
So I am going to completely diverge from this topic and talk about something that could not be more different. I don’t think I could find one single connection if I tried.
Something that one tends to notice is how fashion trends are defined by celebrities. In my eyes, it was professional basketball players who popularized the thick-rimmed, black hipster glasses. It was Lady GaGa who inspired girls to wear enormous sunglasses a few years ago that practically covered their entire face.
But it also applies to other features aside from eye apparel — like hair.
Celebrities are constantly under the microscope, and thus, when they make drastic changes in style, people tend to notice. Well, I couldn’t help but notice one hairstyle that seems to becoming a trend among male pop icons.
The part.
Parting your hair used to be something that guys would only do in elementary school. Like many kids, I rocked the mushroom cut in my youth. My mother would tidy me up in the morning by attacking that bushel of hair with a comb, creating a nicely sized part right smack dab in the middle. I was a very cute kid.
But then I grew out of it. Although I should say that I’m not really one to spend too much time on my hairstyle. Never have. I do style my hair a little bit, but I’m not the type of person who is going to spontaneously alter his haircut just to try something out. It takes me years to change my style.
The reason for that is because I don’t want to risk some barber completely screwing up my hair. I don’t want to go into a shop one day and experiment. Heck, my barber screws up my haircut even when I get the same one over and over again.
So I’m not going to mess around. It’d be nice if I was wealthy enough to have my own personal stylist who I can just go up to and say, “Yeah, you’re a professional, so… make me look beyond sexy. Thanks,” and then I can trust them to do it. That would be awesome.
But I pay $14 to have middle easterners give me my monthly haircut. Basically, the Zohan cuts my hair. It’s not exactly the same guys who act as the stylist for Johnny Depp. So that’s why celebrities have that luxury to experiment. I don’t.
That all being said, it’s only a matter of time until the part takes over.
Here are a few examples.
I think Justin Timberlake is the true pioneer of this movement. Or at least he is the first person who I noticed to be rocking this do.
This isn’t just a casual part though. This is some serious, grow-out-your-hair-bust-out-the-comb-and-brush-violently-for-about-15-minutes type part. There’s no chance in hell any of these guys get out of bed each morning looking anything remotely like this.
I’m not going to lie — right before I step in the shower, have I taken some gel, a comb, and tried to see if I could pull off a hairstyle that resembles this, since I know I could just rinse it out moments later without anyone seeing? Maybe I shouldn’t answer that.
A lot of times when I scrutinize a new style it’s because I’m against it. I’m not too sure I hate this, to be honest. There are much worse things in this world than that a good, old-fashioned weave of the hair.
But it’s not fair, again, because average people like me don’t have the resources or the time to mess around. If Justin Timberlake accidentally received a bad haircut one day, he probably can afford some type of magical device that could instantly regrow his hair so that he could do it all over again. Like a human chia pet.
I predict that as time elapses, we will see more male celebrities adopting this hairstyle. And a lot sooner than you think.
Unfortunately, for me, the only way I would be able to style my hair so neatly is if I actually walked into one of the expensive salons in the mall, which are predominantly occupied by women and gay men. Not that anything is wrong with that. I just can’t afford it. In fact, I got my hair cut once in college by an obviously gay man. And it was probably the best haircut I’ve ever received.
So the only way I could maybe get my hair to flail so neatly in one direction like that is if I like 14 hair blowers all pointing at once at my scalp. Or maybe some 190-mile-per-hour tornado winds would do the trick.
Hey, I found a connection!
May 21, 2013 Posted by Weingrad | Social Commentary | Leave a Comment