Happy Weekend.

 

Dub and Mary Frances

 Edward Albee said, "I write to know what I'm thinking about."  Today I am thinking about Dub and Mary Frances Crain.

If I had godparents growing up they would be Dub and Mary Frances, MF to most of her friends. They were my parents best friends and lived next door to us in Abernathy, Texas. Dub was the band director of Abernathy Public school where my Dad was Superintendent.  I remember many times going to sleep in the back of the house with the smell of cigarettes and brewed coffee supporting the conversation between my parents and  Dub and MF in the kitchen.  I loved clandestinely monitoring their stories and laughter. Dub was a Navy guy like my Dad and there were plenty of "Sea Stories" when they got together.  I was too young to understand all the things they talked about, but Dub made my Dad laugh more than anyone else could.  Dub taught me my very first note of music, a love that stays with me even today as I play the very piano that Dub arranged for my parents to buy.   Every tuner that tweaks that piano tells me how great it is even today.  It wasn't just a piano that Dub found for the family, it was a really great piano.  

Mary Frances could not have children so my brother, sister and me became her children until they adopted their first child. Eventually Dub and MF adopted the same family of two boys and a girl. But before they moved away when I was in junior high school, I thought I was one of the Crain's kids. 

I remember with great joy the day that MF came over to the house with hoopla hoops for me and my sister.  It was the hottest toy of the day and on a school administrators salary it was financially out of reach for my family.  But my next door godmother bought them for us.  That hula hoop was only a symbol of the love that I felt for both the Crains.  

The families kept in touch for a long time after Dub left his job as band director and moved from Abernathy. But as geography would have it the connection faded over the years.  Their new family grew as ours did and eventually addresses became out of date and years went by. But for me, I never forgot the adults that loved me when I was a kid. 

Although I have not seen them for more than 60 years, and Dub passed away a couple of years before my own Dad. I found MF on Facebook and developed a FB connection with her over the last few years.  We corresponded with meme's and messages that reminded me of how much those two people meant to me when I was a kid.  It has been far too long since I got a message or a "like" from her. Today I heard that Mary Frances passed away.  

Although my destiny was not to be found in Abernathy, Texas, growing up in that tiny town gave me a sense of protection that I will always be grateful for. To know that living right next door was a couple who would not think twice to help and/or protect me and my family is a priceless gift for a child.  

I am sure I told her in my adulthood how much she and Dub meant to me, and she expressed the same love back in those FB posts, so I don't feel there are any missed chances or unresolved emotions.  And even though we had not been geographically close for a decades she will always have a special place in my heart. 

Today when I play my piano it will be in honor of the godparents/neighbors who introduced me to that gift of music.  Welcome home Mary Frances.  Give Dub and Ferrel Ray a kiss for all of us.

As you were,

Jay 

Politics will continue......

 

The Trump Drinking Game

 So who knew that the drinking game for the debate last night would be "take a drink every time Trump sniffs" and "chug a drink every time Trump takes a sip of water".  Back in the 80's if someone had been sniffing all the time, spouting rambling thoughts of self- absorbed importance and thirsty all the  time, I would have used the word cocaine to explain those actions. In fact the best explanation for his sometimes incoherent bull shit, total narcissism and complete disconnect from reality could very well be cocaine.  From my experience with coke heads it fits the pattern completely.  

His constant interruption with childish retorts, like "that makes me smart" when Ms. Clinton suggested that he pays no income tax is more evidence that he not only is an egotistic paranoid sociopath, but perhaps a cocaine user as well?  In Trumps favorite form of communication, the Tweet, Howard Dean suggested the same thing, Cocaine.  

There are so many things that made me yell out loud at the television last night but the most disturbing was a constant statement by Mr. Trump bragging about his "property".  No matter what country or city was mentioned Trump's knee jerk response was, "I have property there."  He said it so many times it struck me as quite dangerous.  If he became President and there was some necessary action to be taken toward a country where "he has property" would his first thought be the good of the country or the value of his "property" in that other country.  Since we will never see those tax returns of his we will never know for sure.  However, if he considers that paying no taxes while making a billion dollars makes him "smart" then I suppose he considers Al Capone a fricken genius.  

In fact as I listened to Trump last night he sounded more and more like a Mafia boss than a man who would be president. About NATO he said- we are protecting all these countries - they need to pay us for that. ( Mafia calls that protection money).  Regarding trade from other countries he said, they need to pay us. (Mafia skimming off the top of the profits).  On Iranian boats harassing our ships he would "blow them out of the water".  (Mafia allows no disrespect for a made member). 

Once again he sent hugs and kisses to Russia's Putin saying no one knows for sure who hacked into the Democratic computers. "Maybe it was the Russians, maybe it was a 400 pound guy sitting on a couch somewhere."  The FBI has determined it was most likely Russian hackers who accomplished the hack, but facts are not anything that a Mafia Boss need to be concerned with. 

Trump is an aged spoiled brat who has been able to buy anything he wanted, no matter who he had to stiff to get it.  Trump is the poster boy for the 1% who control most of the wealth in the country and his proposals of lowering those "job creators" tax rates is the old "trickle down theory".  Trickle down doesn't work, never will in this country.  He admitted he thought it was smart not to pay taxes, why would it be smart to pay any of his workers a decent wage, or in some cases even the wage he contracted to pay them for their work.  

The deal is... I am just wasting my time talking about how dangerous, stupid, ill-prepared, destructive and racist Donald Trump is.  Those who think that a person with his lack of intellectual curiosity is what America needs will never be smart enough to see through his bull shit.  If there are enough  sheep around for Donald to sheer and he actually wins the Presidency, I will get no pleasure in writing a plethora of  "I told you so" blogs.  That assumes he doesn't push us into a thermo-nuclear war before I get the chance to write them.

There are real issues about where the loyalties of a President Trump would lie. (I use the word "lie" in both its contexts). Often the interests of the Nation are greater than the biggest corporation in the Nation, and may even be at odds with corporate rationale.  I have no doubt he will think like a "business man" first and "president" second.  That is the very platform he is running on.  He is going to treat America like it was one of his casino's.  For those who think America needs a "business man" at the helm,  why don't you get a "business man" to perform your next surgery. America is more like a Non-profit Organization than a publicly held corporation. Based solely upon his ability to run his own non-profit, it is not something Trump is very good at.  

I have sworn off political posts, and will again after this one. I just can't get past the idea that the America I see every day is too kind, too intellectual, too progressive and too good to fall for the kind of hateful, uninformed, narcissistic rhetoric that Donald Trump spews.   I remain totally baffled.

As you were,

Jay 

Fred Willard

Fred Willard had a birthday last week.  In the World Willard, keeping statistics like the number of years you've been alive is an insignificant activity.  The numbers that fill Fred's mind are baseball statistics and a God given sense of timing that must involve some genius level comedy algorithm.  They say a comedian "says funny things" and a comic "says things funny" so therefore - Fred Willard. 

I have been a fan of Fred Willard for longer than I can remember. In the Ace Trucking Company Fred stood out as a guy who didn't look like a comic. Fred looked like the weekday anchor on the news.  Fred's timing and delivery blurred the lines between straight man and comic,  Fred can be both, often at the same time. Many years later after crossing paths,  we became friends.  

Everyone knows Fred from their favorite character he has played in countless movie roles and television shows.  I only have to say, "No Eyelids Girl" to a friend of mine and he will not only laugh out loud but know I am talking about Fred Willard.  It would be hard for me to pick a favorite part from his resumé. I like all Willardisms. 

I told this story about Fred at his birthday party. Since I told it in front of him, I guess it is okay to write about it now.  I preface the story by admitting it can never be as funny "on paper" as it was in the moment it happened.  That having been stated:

It was a benefit performance for Actors and Others for Animals at the Grove theater in Upland.  It was an all star line up of talent and a full show.  The men were crowded into a small dressing room with a low ceiling.  Like boxers warming up for the fight the comics were throwing punch-lines around to test their timing.  Some of the lines get giggles others just smiles some get a real laugh like you would suspect with cell full of jokers.  

Fred has been sitting quietly on a chair smiling and or laughing at what is going on.   I notice he is wearing very brightly colored and oddly patterned socks on his feet. I figured there was a funny story behind the socks, I mean they are on the feet of Fred Willard. 

So, I say loud enough for the entire room of comics to hear, "Hey Fred, do those socks come in men's colors?" 

Remember the barroom scene in Western movies when the bad guy pushes open the swinging door? The piano player stops playing, gamblers stop gambling, drinkers stop drinking and every head turns toward that one guy.  That's what it was like in the dressing room at that moment. No one snickered at my line, they all  turned to Fred awaiting a Willard comeback. 

I am now rethinking my decision to bring up Fred's socks.  The silence in the room is deafening. Maybe everyone else knows something I don't know like, 

"Hey what ever you do don't tease Fred about his socks." 

I feel like I am hanging out to dry. No one is coming to my defense saying,

"It's okay Fred, Jay doesn't mean it, he didn't know."

There is nothing in the room but impending anticipation.

Fred slowly stands up from the chair wearing only boxer shorts, formal shirt and those socks. It's as though Fred didn't hear my smart ass remark, although everyone else in the room certainly did.  Silently he takes his pressed trousers from the chair and carefully drapes them over his left arm.  

He walks carefully and deliberately across the dressing room to an oversized utility closet. The only place with a door.  He gently opens the door and hangs his pants neatly on an overhead water pipe;  then pivots and slams the door as hard as he can.  

The room burst into laughter nearly drowning out the echo of the big bang.  It was the perfect Jack Benny take, not rushing into comedy but making it come to him, trusting in the exact moment to get the laugh. That is algorithmic comedy timing. It was the biggest laugh of the night and Fred never said a word. 

Several people ran to the small dressing room to see what had happened, the bang was so loud there was genuine concern.  The answer finally came when  someone caught their breath from laughing and said, 

"Jay made fun of Fred's socks". That also got a laugh.

Here's to you Fred. Still celebrating the day of your birth.

As you were,

Jay

Strange Seasonal Occurance

-Meme -

This is the first time in 37 years that Halloween falls on a Friday 13th. It will not happen again until 2029. Snopes has classified this statement as "questionable", but it is a simple task to prove the veracity.

 Halloween will fall on Friday the 13th this year, and here are the facts. 

First, you received this information through some sort of Internet. And... everything on the Internet is true.Why?  Because it is so easy to fact check  information on the Internet.  Why would you write something on social media that isn't true, when anyone can prove it false with a thumb stoke on a smart phone.
What are we? all stupid?*
  
More importantly this FACT comes in the form of a Meme, like the one above.

Just so we are all clear on the concept of a Meme, here is the definition: Meme - a cultural item in the form of an image, video, phrase, etc., that is spread via the Internet 
and often altered in a creative or humorous way.

We didn't have Meme's when I was a kid. The closest thing we had was Grandmother's needlepoint Samplers framed on the wall.  It would be a well stitched phrase of homespun truth for all to see. Who would go to all that trouble to needlepoint a lie on a Sampler? Certainly not your Grandmother.

So there we have it. Halloween is on Friday 13th this year.  How cool is that?

I shall print, cut  out and attach this Meme to my refrigerator so that I don't forget to celebrate this rare occasion on one of my favorite holidays.

*I have a point to this. So much information is flashed to us daily and constantly it can be overwhelming. If you hear or see something enough it starts to ring true.  Some facts are not so easy to verify. The Truth is Out There. If we don't grab it for ourselves, then, Yes we are all stupid.

As you were,
Jay

Something to hide?

I know you are as tired of this presidential election cycle as I am.  It's a good thing that ballots do not contain "none of the above" because at this point that is who's trending in my mind.
And just when you think things can't get any more absurd, to be transparent and open about his health, Donald Trump is going on the Dr. Oz show tomorrow.  I made the joke yesterday that I assumed Trump would release his tax returns on Jim Cramer's Mad Money show. The fact that Mr. Trump has made a mockery of the election process points to the fact that he will make a mockery of the Office of President if elected.

But let's get back to those tax returns.

When I apply for mortgage or refinance the first thing they ask me for is a copy of the last two years of my income tax return. I would love to say, "Proceed with the loan, I am being audited and as soon as that is over I will send them." The lenders would NOT say, "Oh sure... No problem". Rather the loan process would stop at that moment only to proceed (maybe) when I had sent the tax return.  

The mortgage banker wants that information so he/she can determine if I am able to handle a big loan.  That, along with a credit score will let them know if I am financially responsible. Now understand this is a loan that is secured with real property of equal value to the loan.  If I fall behind and really can't handle it, the people loaning me the money will take the property.  As a real estate investor and landlord I am sure that Trump never rented to someone unless they showed a copy of their tax returns. 

Okay, stay with me on this analogy.  Trump and Clinton are basically applying for the Presidency of the United States. We the people are loaning them the Presidency for a few years.  Now I have never been President, but it would seem to me that job takes a lot more responsibility than paying for a house in the suburbs. Yet one of the applicants has not shown me his tax returns so I can determine if he is fiscally responsible.  His bankruptcy's are well known, his losses publicized, which makes it more important that I determine if he is able to handle the job. Why is this not a deal breaker for the application of President? If I can't own a house without revealing my tax returns, how is it that an applicant to own the Presidency for four years is not held by the same standard.  Isn't being President a lot more important than being a home owner? 

My theory is this.  There is something in Trumps tax returns that is revealing and not flattering. There is the belief that, after four bankruptcy's, traditional financing on a large scale is not available to Mr. Trump, and he has resorted to using Russian Mob loans for his capital.  Who knows?  Trumps finances are like Schrödinger's cat in quantum theory of superposition.  Right now Trump is a billionaire business man who has the golden touch and he is also a con-man crook living off the money from Russian loan sharks.  Until the box (tax return) is opened both conditions are true. 

I think there is something very fishy about his finances and Trump has no intention of ever making them available to know for sure.  He is hedging his bet.  With 8 weeks to go before we vote he would be a fool to release them now.  It would be 8 weeks of explaining, defending or dismissing the information auditors might find. If he wins.... The issue will be buried.  If he loses, then the issue is moot.  The only way he loses is if he reveals his taxes and doesn't win the Presidency.  Then when he tries to go back into the private sector everyone will know "the cat is dead". 

So Tomorrow don't expect Dr. Oz to reveal anything but "amazing results" from Trumps phantom physical. And don't expect Trump to ever release his tax returns.  And especially don't expect a President Trump to be respectful of the office, the country or "We the People."

As you were,

Jay

#Trending....

A couple of days ago I noticed that Ann Coulter was trending on a social media page.  I have never been a fan of hers on any level, but for some reason I was curious.  So I researched her "hash-tag".

It turned out that the trend was mostly YouTube out takes of comedians taking a shot at her on a Robb Lowe Comedy Central Roast.  The civility level of the "Roast" has sunk to a nasty name calling frenzy with the ability to say anything on cable television.  Even though I think she deserves all she gets, there were clips from the show that made me wince a little.  I couldn't tell from her reactions if she thought they were laughing with her or at her.  It would be hard to tell since the humor was so deeply buried in cruel remarks.  That said, why did she agree to do the show?  She had to know she would be a big target and no one would go easy on her.  It might not have been her worst decision of the evening.

Although the show openly admits the fact that a team of writers will write comedy material for non-comedy performers, Ann chose to write her own comedy material. Not unexpectedly, known for neither her comedy writing nor her ability to deliver a cleverly timed retort, her set bombed. This lack luster performance just gave fuel to those who followed her.  Case in point, one roaster said, "Ann's performance is the first bombing she can't blame on Muslims."

Again I ask, "Why would she agree to do this show?"  I certainly understand why the show would have wanted her to join the festivities.  One of the most hated women in politics with opinions that sound like she studied at the Sarah Palin school of Smarts, she is the perfect comedy target.  I think Ann Coulter is smart enough to know she would not be elected home coming Queen at this event, so why would she agree to stand down range?  

Of course I know the answer, but since it just doesn't compute with my sense of rationale I still don't understand.  Ann is one of those people who think that any publicity is good publicity. If your face is out there, it is always a good thing.  As long as you are #trending it is good.  I just don't agree with that marketing idea.  

In the art world it is not uncommon for someone to be "famous" for being a villain. There are those characters in Drama and Comedy plots where we love to hate the bad guy or gal. But we love to hate the character not the actor.

Ann Coulter is not an artist. She is not a performer. She is most definitely not a comedian.  She is a political pendant making living selling books that berate legislators and governmental philosophy.  She is a hateful person spouting hateful rhetoric to people who can’t think for themselves.  Ann is not playing a character; she is asserting herself as that hateful person.  To dislike what she says is to dislike her.

While other performers like Jewel proved to be more talented than we thought with a well-performed turn, Ann did nothing to increase her likability. In fact Ann Coulter proved how unlikable she is even more.  However, since I have never bothered to even think about her before, I guess she considers this blog good publicity for her. 

Fame is a drug. Like all drugs if you lose control over it and become addicted, it will eventually destroy you.  Fame doesn’t care if you are famous for being the one who discovered the cure for cancer or the very cancer itself.  Hitler enjoys the same level of historic fame, as does Louis Pasteur if name recognition and trending #hashtags are all you consider.  I just don’t understand the idea that any time someone is talking about you it is a good thing.

I don’t know what Ann Coulter got out of being a participant on the Robb Lowe Roast. Perhaps she has skin as thick as her skull and none of the extremely pointed jokes they threw bothered her.  She was called a whore, hell hound, Skinny Bitch, Transvestite and Kentucky Derby winner. One British comic even suggested to her that it was not too late to “kill yourself”. 

The universal rule and cautionary tale is obvious.  Whether it is a pursuit of fame or just trying to market your books, what you give out comes back to you heaped up, shaken down and over-flowing. She has made so many cruel remarks, and spouted so much partisan hatred toward others it was only a matter of time before that spotlight was turned on her.  Her particular payback was delivered by some of the best comedy minds, and performers in the business on a show divorced from FCC regulations.  If there was any question to the fact that Ann Coulter is an intelligent writer, or has any sort of interesting insight, her decision to participate with her own “humor” in a room full of comedy masters, proves she is just a low level egotistical fear monger.  

If this had happened to anyone else but “Coulter” I would be feeling very sorry for her right now.  As it is, I just see it as “social media” justice.

As you were,

Jay

Word.

There is a clipping taped to my wall that says, "It all begins with your words." I  keep it where I can see it for inspiration.  It was on the cover of a Writers Guild magazine years ago.  Oddly enough they did not credit the writer of that sentence. 

Some say we are losing words because of social media.  It seems that a lot of communications are sent by cartoon emojis or abbreviations. Perhaps one day that will be the alphabet. A traditional sentence would be a string of drawings.  As weird as that might seem one only has to look at the Ancient Egyptians to see how that might work. They were intelligent and extremely advanced. Their written language was a line of drawings.

As you were,

Jay

Writing Credit???

"Gone in a moment" by Jayson

I must have the most fickle Muse in the world of inspiration.  I'm not even sure if it is just one or maybe several that visit from time to time.  I never know how long they will stay, but as long as they are around they demand my complete attention.

My drawing and writing Muses seem to be the most consistent and familiar.  I usually fall asleep drawing on my iPad while listening to some non-participatory television show.  I love the true crime shows for that simple reason.   Since there is no real footage of the crime, they have to describe it and give a detail of the methods they used to catch the bad actor.  It is more like a radio show and it is easy to follow while you attention is on the drawing.  

It is always an interesting morning when I look back on the drawing I was doing or had finished the night before.  Most of the time I can find where the final stroke of the stylus has slowly drifted off the page as I drifted off to sleep.  There is a sense of detachment to the drawing that I like to experience.  It is almost like I am seeing it through another persons perspective.  The drawings I like the most are the ones that make me wonder, how I accomplished it. 

The writing Muse seems to take over for most of the rest of the day.  However, I am wondering if while I draw and fall asleep the writing Muse might still be at work. Or maybe she employ's some temp workers at night. Evidence would prove that some of the things I write in the light of day, turn to complete shit by the next morning.  I always thought there were elves that came in the middle of the night and fixed the plot problems.  My elves seem to be re-writing all the good stuff and leaving all the crap. 

This writer is out of ideas.  One night he goes to bed and the next morning there is a finished script on his desk. The writer needs the money so he puts his name on it and submits the piece.  It sells immediately and the agent begs for more.

The next night the same thing. A beautiful new script is on his desk. He tags it as his own and it sells quickly. This process goes on for several weeks. One night the writer decided he will stay awake and see what happens during the night.

Sure enough about midnight he hears his computer keyboard clicking like the Geiger counter at Chernobyl. He sees a tiny elf at his desk typing 130 words a minute.  The writer says, "So you are the one doing all this great work?"

Elf says, "Yeah, I like to write, hope you don't mind me using your computer." 

"No problem", says the writer as he continues to talk to the elf.  "You know these scripts have been very good."

"Thanks." says the elf.

The writer says, "I got a big check for the last few scripts, can I share some of the money with you?"

Elf says, "Naw, I'm an elf, I don't use money... it's of no use to me."

"Can I get you a woman to say thanks?"

"No"

"How about drugs, liquor, a trip somewhere." says the writer.

"I really don't travel and don't use booze or drugs.... thanks though."

"I really need to compensate you some sort of way...." says the writer.

"Well, I guess if you really think you need to do something, maybe you could give me co-credit for writing it." 

"Fuck you, those scripts are mine." Says the writer.

Evidently my Muse employ's an "elf of a different kind" to do my midnight work.  So as I head into the weekend staring at a script that needs attention, I am wondering why my writing Muse wants me to write a blog.  That is the thing about running the creative race, the need to run is there even when the track is closed.  

Make it a great weekend.

As you were,

Jay

What have you got to lose?

The Dump 

There is this car that sits on a high end dealership lot.  It has been there for some time.  Since some of the newer models were not to my total liking, I took another look at the one that had been around.

The salesman was very anxious to sell the car and said that it was not made in a standard auto factory, no... It was built by a private company. Although this particular company had never built a car before, it was a well known company and product brand. The salesman claimed that even though this was their first attempt at making a car, it was the best car.  It would drive so well, I would get tired of driving so well. When my neighbors saw what a great car this was they would like me even better. 

When the car started, the engine did not sound like a normal car, but then again the salesman said, "Of course it doesn't sound like any other vehicle.  It did not come the same old factories, this is all new. And you will be proud to drive an American car."  I said, I didn't know that the car was made in the USA. 

The salesman said, "Oh..the parts and equipment were made in China, the cloth came from Indonesia and it was assembled in South Korea, but the name on the car, "Dump" that is absolutely American." 

I told the salesman I did not like the artificial orange color of the exterior, or the oddly shaped cover on the sunroof. The salesman said, "You might not like it but that color is the real thing. Aren't you tired of colors that are subdued and correctly matched. This car is unapologetic and its color is the color a lot of people would like to have but are just too shy to openly desire." 

I asked to see the original sticker price.  The salesman said that sales document was tied up in an inventory  audit and could not be released until the inventory was finished.  

Then I said, "Show me the Car Fax". 

The salesman said the car had never been driven so there was no Car Fax available. But trust him, this car would drive so great, it would Make Driving Great Again.  And with special door locks only people with a valid drivers license could actually sit inside.  I saw another car on the same lot and asked about that one. The salesman was dismissive, "That one does not drive straight. Sure it is a known brand but it is so exclusive some people say you have to pay the owner just to sit inside." 

I asked if I could take it out for a test drive. The salesman laughed and said that is not the way it worked. I would have to buy the car to see if I like it or not.  I said, "What if I don't like it."

"Well," said the salesman, "After four years you can bring it back.  Obviously we can't give you a refund  if you have already driven it for four years." 

"Okay," I said, "let me get this straight. You want me to buy this car, even though it has never been off the lot so there is no maintenance record.  You can't show me the sticker price because it is being audited. I can't test drive it and I have to keep it for four years even if it doesn't work after I buy it. And...This car company has never designed a car before, nor do they really know exactly how an internal combustion engine works. "

" Yeah, but he company does make great steaks." The salesman said.

I was not convinced.  It just didn't seem I had enough information on the car to actually know what I was buying.

It was his final pitch to sell me the car. He looked at the 8 year old dark colored BMW I was driving. I loved that car, it had never been involved in an accident, and had never given me any trouble.  I didn't much want to trade the car, but after 8 years it was time. Besides, the dealership that was supposed to keep up it running had refused to do any maintenance or try to make any improvements for the last four years.  Pointing to my car the salesman said, "Look at what you are driving now?" He asked. His voice got very conspiratorial, "It's never been proven to my satisfaction that this car was even made in the USA." With a big smile he said, again, "Look at what you have been driving? Why don't you give this Dump a try.. What the hell have you got to lose?  What the HELL have you got to lose." 

As you were,

Jay

Feelings? Nothing more than Feelings....

What do I feel like today?  I feel like me. I can't even explain what that feeling is. I just know. I know that I am me, but it is more than a physical phenomenon.  It is knowing. I know that it is me even when I am feeling less than up to par.

What does God feel like?  It seems that most of the things have a very identifiable feeling attached to the experience. I remember a television ad years ago with an egg. They showed the egg with a voice over saying, "This is your brain."  Then they cracked the egg into a very hot frying pan. As the broken egg sizzled in the skillet the announcer would say, "This is your brain on drugs.... Any questions?"  It was a visceral image that implied a dramatic change in the way your brain would feel under the influence of "drugs".

Of course they never said what kind of drugs. One could easily reverse the film and say while the egg is in the skillet, "This is your brain with depression", and then show the reconstituted egg in tack and say, "This is your  brain on Zoloft."  

We are all looking for something that makes us feel better.  Religions and Religious teachers claim that a God feeling is the best way to spend the rest of eternity.  They have no answer as to what one is to actually experience when feeling God.  Many people are after some "feeling" that will tell them they are in a state of atonement with Spirit.  To some that can be a euphoric feeling dancing around the sanctuary of a church. Or it could be the realization that you are talking in some other "tongue".  I have seen televised services where people are actually struck down by "the Holy Spirit" falling to the ground writhing.  I have heard preachers quote scripture saying, "Blessed are you when men revile you and persecute you and spitefully use you... For yours is the kingdom of heaven."  To me these are not signs that the God feeling is necessarily a pleasant one.  

Looking for that "feeling" has generated religious rituals using hallucinating substances. This drug induced "out of body experience", in their opinion, brought them closer to God and spirit.  Ram Das found God by taking LSD in the 60's.  These "feelings" led him to study with an Eastern Guru.  At one point the Holy Man asked what it was that Ram Das had in his hand. It was several hits of LSD.  He explained to the Guru that these pills helped him experience the feeling of God.  With that the Guru took the drugs out of his hand and swallowed them all.  Ram Das panicked and stayed with the Guru to help him through the very long acid trip that he felt was sure to come.  The Guru had taken five times the amount that Ram Das would have taken to become totally messed up.

For the rest of the day the Guru went about his business, teaching and studying with no apparent effects to his perception.  In other words the LSD had absolutely no affect on the Holy Man.  The next day or so the Guru explained that God could not be found in mind bending pills.  In an object lesson Ram Das learned that God can not be found in "feeling".   

People have become "religious" after some near death experience, morbid tragedy or life threatening illness.  In those cases people are trying to replace pain with a God feeling.  Trying to catch wind in a pillow case or lightening in a bottle is easier.

It is my opinion, if one is trying to find God through a feeling of some kind, they are only chasing a different kind of artificial addiction.  God is not feeling, God is knowing. How can anyone "feel" knowledge? 

Suppose you are on a trip from Phoenix to Los Angeles. Let's also suppose there are no maps, no GPS, and no definitive road signs to help you.  All you have are the directions given to you by someone you trust. The directions don't give you any clue on how long it will take, just the direction you should be heading.  With only that to guide you, you set upon your journey.   

Along the way you will encounter others on the journey. Perhaps they are going to LA, maybe not, they are just others traveling with vague directions like you.  Some will say, "There is no such place a LA... It is a myth. Let's all just settle down here."  Others might say, "I am sure that we are going the wrong way, we should go back," or "We need to change the direction."  If you are trying to keep your journey on path with a feeling you are heading in the right direction, your euphoria will fade.  The only thing that will keep you on the right path is knowing your directions are good. There are many ways to get to LA from Phoenix and no ones directions will be the same as yours.  Other pilgrims will show you their directions to prove you are on the wrong track. If you just "feel" like you are on the right track you are a long way from knowing.  

Sure wish there was something I could take or words I could say that would make me feel in sync with God.  There is no such magic chant or potion.  The work is not to feel God, the work is to Know God which is an eternal schooling.  I need to know God just like I know that I am me, and perhaps that feeling of being alive is feeling God. I think that is what God was trying to say when Moses asked who it was that spoke to him.  His answer, "I am that I am." That ability to know I am is really just knowing God. 

As you were,

Jay

These Kids Today.....

You can file this under, "You kids get off my lawn". I can't believe I'm writing this, but more amazing to me is, "when did I turn into to Old Man Johnson?"  It must have been one of those slow changes like a glacial flow. Suddenly you look up and things have changed beyond recognition.

Sort of like the place where this happened, the Sherman Oaks Galleria.  Located at the corner of Ventura and Sepulveda, at one time it was the teenage activity center of the San Fernando Valley. A two story mall with a food court, movie theaters and teen age girls speaking in a vapid dialect that became a parody unto itself. It was so iconinc that it was featured in the movie Fast Times At Ridgemont High.  

It was not unlike most malls around the country but this one was Valley Central and became the thing, but Whatever.   I remember during the Rodney King riots of 1992 there were two armored tanks and a dozen National Guard troupes stationed around the Galleria to protect it from the looting and the civil disobedience that was spreading from South Central.  

Not long after the 92 riots,  they gutted the space and made the Galleria into a semi-open air, single story facility. It doesn't look at all like it did.  In fact it looks more like the courtyard of an office building complex than a Mall now a days.  It is hard for me to remember what it once was.  We still attend movies there at the beautiful Arch Light cinemas and our bank is still there so it still serves a function for us even though it is no longer our nearest best mall.  

I can accept the change in the Galleria and reluctantly the change in myself as the years go on, but I can't seem to accept a new generation of Millennials that have come to populate the space.  Perhaps it is just a matter of not understanding them.  

Most of the young patrons are not mall hanging shoppers, but young professionals that work in the various office buildings that either surround or occupy the Galleria, depending on how you think of the complex. There has been a lot said about the over privilege  and  indulgence of this new crop of people.  Since the same was said about a"Bunch of G--Damn hippies" that was my generation, I try not to listen to stereotypical bigotry from the "elders", especially since everyone but me assumes I am one of those cranky elders. 

At any rate, today,  I was cashing some checks at the bank which is located in the middle of the courtyard.   I was done quickly and decided to get a Starbucks as a reward (plus I had cash burning a hole in my jeans.) 

I walked with purpose across the common area and found myself behind a young girl also walking to Starbucks. She was totally involved in the screen of her cell phone when she suddenly stopped cold in her tracks.  Two steps behind her I stepped to my left to walk around her.  At the same time she took two steps backwards and to her left and we bumped into each other before I could avoid her.  It wasn't a bad bump just a crash of two bodies that were trying to occupy the same space.  Over her shoulder I could see that she was playing Pokemon Go which was the reason for her abrupt change in direction.  

Instinctively I said, "Excuse me".  I didn't say it as an apology, it was a comment to assure her it was not my intention to bump her.  She was immediately angry and with her brow furrowed she looked up from her cell phone screen for the first time and said, "Hey, why don't you watch were you are going."

The fact is... I WAS watching where I was going. It was she who had no idea this was a common walkway and not a Pokemon rescue reserve.  For the next few minutes I had to stand in front of her in a Starbucks line. I wasn't sure if I was feeling the cold shoulder or the heat of anger coming from her. She didn't look up from the screen again. 

Millennials... are you not aware that there are more people on this planet than just the people on your cell phone contact list and Pokemons?  It's dangerous enough to be this distracted when you are walking at the Sherman Oaks Galleria, but I have seen some of you in LA traffic texting with both hands while driving.  Although if you are not looking at the road  and don't have at least one hand on the wheel, I would not call it driving.   I guess what I am trying to say is, if you are that unaware of anything that is happening in your life that is not on a phone screen, then stay at home. Those of us just trying to cash a check get a cup of coffee would appreciate it.

As you were,

Jay  

Letter from.....

Dear Jay,

I got your request for help. I definitely will be there, as always.  There are just a few things I would like to clear up.

First, where have you been? 
I've been here at the same place for, well, eternity.  You seem to believe that I went on vacation, retired, or just haven't been doing my job. But,  I'm right here, I never left. It seems you are the one who has not been around.  If you had contacted me before now I would know. You remember that one of my abilities is to know everything.  And I understand, that too is one of my abilities. 

I get it, you're busy. Things have been going well and you thought you could handle it on your own.  Well, since you haven't asked for my help till now, I assume that has been working out great for you. No one could be happier that things are going well. Hey, I love you. But back to why you contacted me, Why do you need me now?  What changed?  Not me, I haven't changed for, well, eternity.
  

You might have confused me with Santa Claus. Just because there is the implication he is a Saint, he is not.  Although I see you when you're sleeping, and I know when you're awake and know when you've been bad or good that is where the similarity ends.  My love and gifts are non-conditional.

I am omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent. The omni part of those words is very important.  I am everywhere and know everything, always and eternally.  And unlike Claus, I don't keep a naughty list. I am not waiting for you to be "nice" enough to be deserving of my gifts, my light shines on the just and the unjust with the same intensity.  It is up to you to accept those gifts or not, I do not withhold them.

The fact is: you have come upon a situation you think I am not aware of. You also seem to think that I need to be reminded of my job and that is why you have asked my help.  If you think you have to remind me, beg me or make a deal for my help, you obviously don't understand who and I am and what I do. 

I didn't leave you. I didn't stop protecting you, in fact there is nothing you can do that would make me hate you.  You can ignore me, pretend I'm not around and dismiss my help, but that is your choice not mine.  I am just going to keep looking out for you without wavering. 

So, I'm here and I'm there to help you. You don't have to ask, you just have to look around to know that I am there. You can never be special enough or good enough to deserve it, that is just the way I am.  Stop worrying and start looking around.

But, for my sake, don't go posting some prayer request on Facebook. I am not impressed by Facebook comments nor likes nor emoticons.  I don't have a Facebook account, and I don't respond well to empty requests and worn platitudes.  Not that I don't appreciate the attention, it's just that those requests imply that I am not already doing all I can to help. Am I just waiting around for the right person to say the right thing to motivate me to act? No!  I'm doing my job 24/7, not that time has any meaning to an eternal being like myself. 

In short I'll be there. It was great to hear from you again. Remember me a little more often in your daily activity and you will realize that panic requests for me to "be with you"  or "do something to help" is a waste of time for both of us.  I am with you always.

Eternally,

God

How to be Successful in Show Biz

In a year of political insanity wondering if America is great or not, most people who are disenchanted feel like they are not successful enough.  In America you are not judged by the qualities of your character or the depth of your talents, you are simply judged by your income and credit score.
I don't know much about other businesses but for Show Business I have the perfect answer. It is a technique that I have watched and learned from in my half-a- century of being in Los Angeles.  In Hollywood, as in most other businesses, it is better to look successful than to be successful.  The truth is, only a few creative types in Hollywood really know what they are doing, the rest have just stumbled onto some dumb luck and a twist of fate that proves to be a successful project.  Since they really don't know how to package a successful movie or series they look at what other successful shows have done and try to plug in the same elements.  The rule is, "Get me that successful writer, actor, producer, director to do the same magic for us." That is like mixing gun powder knowing the ingredients but not the proportions.  If the ingredients don't come together in exactly the right way instead of an explosion you have a fizzle. So success in Show Business will always be a matter of what you've done lately.
So in the vain of, "never let them see you sweat" there are certain ways to state your own career when you  haven't just been part of the greatest hit since "Citizen Kane."  Here are some things to think about from a performer who has learned the way it works.
The most important thing is to make everyone  in town believe that you are swamped with work and very much in demand.  Even if the person you are trying to impress is not a career mover in town, the possibility that they know someone who is a deal maker is worth the time to learn how to talk about your career.  You don't have to force it by immediately giving your resumé before you say hello, but there are always cues that let you know it is time to gild the lily and polish the turd.
Inevitably,  during a social situation some one will ask you, "So what are you up to these days?" here are a few Hollywood answers:

For writers:
If you have more than 5 pages written about anything you can say, "I'm working on a screenplay"  or "I have this novel that's taking shape" or the best "I'm doing some ghost writing" (if they ask "for whom", you tell them it is someone they would know, and that is why you had to sign a non-disclosure agreement.

For Performers:
If you just performed for the Lion's Club of Bakersfield you say, "I just had a road gig."  or "I did a club out of town".

For actors -
If you just read a script you say, "Just finished a script I'm not sure is right for me."  or "Someone thought I might like to do a part in this movie."
If you were an extra on a Friends episode you say, "I worked with Jennifer Aniston"
If you haven't worked in a while and your last credit is as a extra on Friends you say, "They (always say 'they' because it implies whomever, agents, casting directors, producers, networks... it's all 'they') THEY are trying to find the right vehicle for me... but with the trend toward reality shows now it is taking a while."  or tell them you are "Working on my solo show".
Never say you "Have an idea..." say, "I've got this project I'm working on."  or  "Thank god I have some time off to work on something I really want to do."

You never have lunch with someone, you are "Taking a meeting out of the office."
Dinner in not dinner it is a "Pitch meeting over cocktails"

If you happen to have lunch in a restaurant where some celebrity happens to be you can always say, "I had lunch with Tom Hanks (insert name here) the other day."

You never just drop by your agents office to see what was going on, you say, "My agent thought it was time for me to come in for some face time."

If you were up for a job you didn't get,  you say, "The director went another way with the part". If you got fired you say, "They replaced me with the producers nephew."

If you didn't get called in for a part that you would have been right for you say, "That part was cast before the script was finished."

If you can get proficient with this way of looking at your career you will appear to be much more in demand than you might be. You will appear to be working when you are not, and you will convince some that they better hire you before someone else does.

Now before I get comments on the fact that this way of thinking and talking is not the truth or God forbid you think it is lying I disagree.  If you look at what the current politicians are telling us, these minor offenses are more like a Jesuit sermon.  Besides  to paraphrase my old friend Billy Crystal (see how subtly you can drop a name) "It is better to look successful than to be successful" around this town.  Now you know.....
As you were,
Jay

What I learned at the Vent Convention

Darwin (Jay) and Dale (The) ..
make up your own story for
this photograph. 

I have a picture story, one with a moral and everything.  It's not a story of the picture on the left. Make up a story of your own for that one.  The story I am about to tell involves the picture at the end of this blog.  Here goes.

The setting of this story is my back yard at 3:32 pm on Sunday, July 17, 2016, So.California. I have the house to myself because Sandi is off at a family baby shower in Portland.  

There are two characters in this story, three if you include me. Although the cast might be recognizable from the photo, it is important to know the players.   

Bambu (Boo) is my dog. Dog owners will understand, when someone says "my dog" it implies a human canine relationship like no other.  I was gone four days, and Boo had been alone most of the day when I returned. She was very excited to see me.

The other character is a puppet from my show. It may look like a tennis ball and surely started out to be just that but with a little craftsmanship a tennis ball becomes my co-performer named Spaulding. Spaulding was created for "Jay Johnson: The Two and Only" and has been part of the company since. I remember spending hours trying to get the cut on a tennis ball just right so it would transform from sports equipment to stage performer.  No two tennis balls cut or bend the same, so when that perfect combination comes together, I tend to treat that tennis ball like is was a McElroy Figure.  The original Broadway Spaulding is enshrined at Vent Haven Museum.     So that said, here is the story.

I arrive home from the Vent Haven Convention on Sunday afternoon. 

Aside: If you have never been to a Ventriloquist Convention before I will try to explain. The Vent ConVention is a gathering of professional, semi-professional, dilettantes, hobbyist, puppet makers and evangelists for the Art of Ventriloquism.   Whatever your interest in  Ventriloquism you can find experts and fellow artisans of what you love about this art form at the ConVention. 

The idea is that we "older" performers help inspire and promote ventriloquism to a new generation of the ventriloquially smitten.  The truth is, it always inspires me more.  In fact I came home and immediately started to work on a puppet  character and act that I abandoned long ago for lack of inspiration.  I have plans of using the character in a performance on Saturday.  

A sidebar for those who may have attended the ConVention,  I did not borrow someone else's idea.  Although one of the lecturers suggested that ideas and intellectual property can not be legally protected and therefore these "ideas" are free to "borrow",  In my opinion that is not the proper "take away" from the ConVention. However, given the lecturer's success I decided to take him at his word. I began to "borrow" from everyone who attended. In fact I didn't just borrow it,  I flat out stole it. But it was not some other ventriloquists act,  puppet character, intellectual property or "idea" that I "borrowed".  What I stole was inspiration.  I disagree with the lecturer's thesis that ideas are not proprietary, but have no disagreement that inspiration is absolutely not.  What I stole from everyone was their passion, their sense joy and wonder for this unusual art form.

I  also stole some great memories.  Time spent in laughter with my friends and peers is a priceless possession. When you have so much in common, laughter is as natural as breathing.  I have evidently been inducted into something called the MFC which is an honor and a joy. Thank you to the secret committee who nominated me. 

My job at this ConVention was to lecture on the technique of the art as taught by The Great Lester; I was traveling as light as I could.  I brought only characters that would fit in my carry on case. Being the size of a tennis ball, Spaulding was the only character I had room for. 

Now back to the story: I arrive home from the Vent Haven Convention on Sunday afternoon.  My cheeks hurt from laughter and I have some strange desire for curly fries.  I am exhausted from the 4 hour flight but my creative juices are flowing.  I begin to unpack but get distracted by every scrap of paper and bit of swag I brought back. My suitcase looks like it has exploded in my bedroom.

  

All Boo wants to do is play. She brings me every toy from her chew basket but she can tell I am more than distracted.  I am taking things from the suit case back  to the office. I grow tired of stepping past the mess so I decide to finish unpacking first and then I can start creating. 

Spaulding and Boo

The suitcase is now empty and I realize something is missing. Spaulding is not there. I check in the office, around the dirty clothes, under the bed and retrace every step I made.  It might seem a little weird to be concerned to the point of panic over a cut up tennis ball, but like I said, it is one of my characters.  In my frantic search I notice Boo out by the pool playing with one of her toys, or so I thought until I realize what was going on.   She was, at that moment, nuzzling, chewing and drooling on Spaulding.   Boo had found Spaulding in my suitcase and decided it was a new toy I brought back for her. 

The minute I opened the patio door her tail started to wag, she grabbed Spaulding and took off.  For the next few minutes it was a game of keep away.  She would get close with Spaulding in her mouth and just as I thought she would drop it like I demanded, she sprinted away, very happy I decided to play with her.  Finally I was able to get her to drop it in anticipation that I would toss it.  I quickly snapped a picture. 

There is an object lesson to this picture story.  Boo "borrowed" something from me.  To her it was a tennis ball like so many others she plays with.  To me it was a puppet, a cherished part of my act.  As smart as dogs are they will never get the concept that borrowing, taking, or stealing something from someone else has consequences.  They don't know the difference between legal rights and ethical principles, and have no concept of ownership...  if they like something... they take it.  I am glad humans can operate on a higher level. 

As you were,

Jay