Maybe not the world but some force bigger than myself seems to enjoy constantly wreaking havoc with my timelines. That's the easy answer. The answer that justifies my behavior (or, in fact, never even calls it into question) and makes me feel better. Blaming other people, other forces - always feels better for a minute or two. But in the end, if you have any concious whatsoever, it'll all come back around to what you could have done better sooner or later. Now I understand that much of this is simply my fault. I have identified what it is that allows me to fail, if I fail, at my tasks. If I didn't have procrastination hanging around my neck, if I didn't have to play Kingdom Hearts, if I didn't need to sleep 8 hours a night - I'd be asking questions about how you liked the followup audio adventure instead of answering questions about when it will be complete.

But really, it's not my fault.

My computer blew up on Friday when trying to upgrade my OS. It was nearly unique in its experience, and doubt you could find a handful of people that ran into the same problem. The lesson as always: back up you files no matter what.

Now, fortunately, I was able to recover much of what I lost. Enough that I didn't have to resign or abandon any jobs/projects/future/wife etc., for the betterment of everyone. I did, however, lose my sound effects library, so I'm in a bit of stalemate until I can replace/restore it. Should take too long.

But PLEASE hang in there! The next one will be coming and coming soon and the 3rd one will be soon after that and then - WHAM! Something big will be coming to LaskoVision that I am excited, thoroughly excited for and hope you will like it.

Even Abraham Lincoln had to run a few campaigns before he was elected president and, you know, saved the great U.S. of A. I don't expect to save anything with what I'm doing, except for the imagination and dreams of all people everywhere.

Am I shooting too high?

I can see it now:

It's Monday morning. You arrive at work, perhaps a little early. It's Monday and you are rarely early. But this Monday is different. Special.  And it turns out a big, fat disappointment. Because the next audio adventure is nowhere to be seen on LaskoVision.

i'm really sorry about that.

I was hoping to work straight through the weekend, but that didn't work, and the Gulag has me tied up with 18 different projects all due yesterday. So, it's coming. It just isn't here yet.

In the meantime, I want to introduce you to a site that I love/hate. I love it because it is clever, funny, and extrememely well done. Hate because I should have thought of it first.

The offical site of How it Should Have Ended.

Dang, I really should have come up with this first.

George Lucas came out yesterday to tell the world not to get our hopes up about the new Indiana Jones movie.

"When you do a movie like this, a sequel that's very, very anticipated, people anticipate ultimately that it's going to be the Second Coming."

I actually understand this. And Lucas should know. It's happened to him already. Phantom Menace was incredibly anticapted, made a ton of money, and will probably go down as one of the two worst Star Wars films ever. And apparently, Lucas thinks it's because it was so highly anticipated, so built up in the minds of the films' fans, that no matter what it was it would never meet expectations. Maybe, but you know what I think? I just think it wasn't a very good movie. Come on. The trade federation goes on strike so the government has to come in make it right?

Does that really sound like a Star Wars movie?!

But it's what he said next that really chapped me.

"You probably have fond memories of the other movies. But if you went back and looked at them, they might not hold up the same way your memory holds up."

I don't know about the rest of the world, but it hasn't been that long since I've seen the Indiana Jones films. I, along with about 47 million other people. We're fans. We waited for the movies on DVD forever. Before that, we watched them on VHS. and the majority of us will by them on Blue-Ray when the time comes. We do it because we enjoy them. We're entertained by them. And they confirm the satisfaction our memories of the movies carry with them. They hold up extremely well. Particularly the "Raiders of the Lost Ark". Why does he say these things?

Obviously, he's wratcheting down expectations so we don't go in there ready for the world to levitate because Indy's back in the theaters. He doesn't want another Phantom Menace backlash, and I can appreciate that. It may be that he's seeing that the dynamic duo has not been able to recapture the same magic as they found in the first trilogy. I am confident, because Spielberg is directing, that it will fit the canon very nicely. But just in case they need some last minute advice, here are my five ways to keep Indy, well, Indy.

1. The level of CG should be left to a bare minimum. Indiana Jones is reality-based fantasy. I believe that the audiences want to believe that Indiana Jones is a real possibility. That his character could exist somewhere in this world, if the moon and stars were aligned right and if the circumstances called for it, there would, in fact, be a hero to come from an unassuming university who would save the world from the Nazis. Twice. And while CG has come an extremely long way than the air dog fight in "Last Crusade", still, the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull needs to be based in reality, and not something that looks like it came from the Dark Crystal. That's not Dr. Jones. That's somebody else. Somebody that may come out of my imagination someday. Leave that somebody alone.
2. Bullwhip, gunfire, punches to the face. The sounds, the absolutely defining characteristic of the series, must, must, MUST be the same. If I were to give you five, even ten different gunfires, you would be able to pick out Dr. Jones' gun. I could give you fifty versions of a punch to the face and you'd pick out what happens when a bad guy gets  a fist to the mouth in Raiders. And there might not be another sound like the bullwhip. It's like the bell on the Disneyland Railroad. You just can't not hear the sound and know where you are. You just can't.
3. A man of few words.  I don't think this will be a problem. Indiana Jones has never been verbose. I should know. His descriptions are concise, his explanations brief and measured, and if he has to use more words than he thinks he needs to (as in the case of the two government officals wanting to know about the ark) he gets annoyed and the listener becomes a trial, a chore, rather than a colleague or a friend. He isn't great at banter, and is uncomfortable trying. It's awesome. He is a man of action. Action that won't be explained. Because he knows that he is the only one who can do what he does or knows it should be done, and that's pretty much the only reason he does anything.
4. The girl's gotta be the real deal. "Crystal Skull" will feature two women, Karen Allen and Cate Blanchett. Allen is Marion Ravenwood from the first film, while Cate seems to be a villain or at least an opponent of some kind. Marion marries someone by the name of Williams, named the boy Williams, and something's happened, something critical that forces her to tell Indy about him - something I'm guessing she promised herself she would never do. It also appears that we'll be seeeing flashbacks as Abner Ravenwood, Marion's dad and died before the first film, is a character in this one. Now whether, he really died or Marion was just telling stories remains to be seen, but I think it would be a poor choice to go back on something that worked so well in the first one. Anyway, the point is - the girl has to be an integral part of the story and NOT just eye candy. And with a 50 year-old former love interest, I'm guessing eye candy is not part of the equation.
5. Music Music Music. John Williams theme. Indy won't be Indy without it. I'm not worried. I'm just saying. Except for Batman, I can't think of a single individual hero that has such a recognizable, adrenaline pumping, identifying theme that Indiana Jones. It's his sound. It's the sound of adventure.

The only fear I have of this movie not living up to expecations is not that it's so highly anticipated. It's that George Lucas, who deserves all the credit in the world for coming up with the concept, but just thinks himself away from obvious great decisions. My greatest confidence lies in his partner, Mr. Spielberg who offers us every reason to believe this movie will be great. As great as the previous films. As great as we want it to be. As great as we see it in our minds.

How's that for pressure?

I know you're all dissappointed. And I know it's all my fault.

No Easter façade. I know, it breaks the heart. Frankly, it was a matter of priorities, and the Easter theme lost. But so did watching last week's episode of Lost (until this morning), so it's in some pretty serious company. And who's idea was it to have the holiday so dang early? Not mine. So really, I'm blaming the guys who set the dates for the holidays.  Speaking of, I've heard a rumor that Easter came so early this year that we won't see anything like it for another 225 years. Or in other words, um, ever.

Hope made me an Easter basket complete with returning gifts I've received for Easter, Christmas, St. Arbor Day, just about every holiday for the past year. She loves to laugh. But, I also found the 2-disc anniverary edition of Labyrinth. Someday we'll have to discuss how David Bowie took the role of the villain to extraordinary heights. David Bowie....is there anything he can't do?

And finally, two weeks have passed since I've posted Brave Little Tailor and it's the most popular thing on the website (as it should be.) Thanks for listening. The next installment should be available by Monday. I think you'll like this one as well. In fact, how did you like BLT? I appreciate any and all constructive feedback. The uses of such words as "suck" "bogus" and "you belong in a callcenter, you hack" will not be tolerated, however.

I don't know much about him personally. I never saw the film he is most famous for or even anything about it except what I learned from Seinfeld. In fact, looking at his bio, I haven't seen nearly anything he's written in his entire career. I know exactly two things about him. I know his name. I know that he wrote every episode of Jim Henson's "The Storyteller."

And that's pretty much all I need to know. His name is Anthony Minghella, who is a multiple Oscar nominee and winner for the much touted "English Patient". That's how most of the world knows him. But before he was famous, before he was winning Oscars for very long movies, he was writing half hour shows for the Jim Henson company. I loved them. Still do in fact. These episodes that retell ancient tales of soldiers and princesses and giants and griffins are all presented in classic Jim Henson fashion, with costumes and puppets and visual eye candy. But it all starts with the language. Anthony Minghella wrote seemingly effortlessly that the words dripped like honey from John Hurt's mouth as he told his stories. He could, in the matter of 25 minutes transport his audience to a world that seemed quite familiar and yet so strange as to be fascinating and concerning and wonderful and scary  and all usually at the same time.

Anthony Minghella made me want to write those stories as well. My imagination launches with every telling and retelling and insists that I carry on, dreaming up new ideas to share old tales that have been lost or forgotten by the mainstream, replaced by the bursting onset of CGI and dramatic visuals. There's nothing wrong with that. But this is where Anthony Minghella's scripts really set themselves apart. The in your face visuals we not needed. Those visuals that were there were to support the language. Just as vocal storytelling is supported by the imagination of its audience.  He was very good in his writing, clever and tight, verbose when it fit, strong when it was needed, but always, always led his listener to a place where they could launch themselves and fly, if they truly wanted to.

I mention Anthony Minghella because he passed away last night. He was 54. To the world, this short-lived television series was a small accomplishment in the life of a man who won Oscars and revolutionized a country's industry. But if he had never done any of those things he would still be Anthony Minghella, the writer of the "Storyteller." And in my opinion, that alone deserves the best seat by the fire.

I want to talk about  Thomas Midgley.

His is a story that quite completely and repetitively confirms the saying, “The Road to Hell is paved with good intentions.” Midgley held over 100 patents, an inventor who acquired the taste for discovery quite early as he learned at the feet of his father, also an inventor. He grew up in middle America, Columbus, Ohio to be exact, and graduated with a degree in Engineering from Cornell University.  He also, as one historian put it, "had more impact on the atmosphere than any other single organism in Earth history."

He was awarded the William H. Nichols Medal from the American Chemical Society for his first major discovery which was this: that the addition of tetra-ethyl lead (TEL) to gasoline prevented internal combustion engines from “knocking”, a phenomenon, which at its very worst, could be completely destructive (ka boom.) This new leaded gasoline (they didn’t call it that. They called it “Ethyl” and avoided the term “lead” in every piece of public collateral produced. They, meaning General Motors who Midgley worked for and owned the patent)  was immediately praised all over the world. To the automotive industry, Thomas Midgley was a hero. Like I said, he got an award. From chemists.

What was the alternative to leaded gasoline? Ethanol-based fuels. The same ethanol that’s discussed so much in political and Iowan circles nowadays. But the cost of producing and the market’s celling were too close together for it to be considered profitable.

I expect to the car owners as well he was considered a pretty good guy. After all, the number of “spontaneous” engine explosions were dramatically decreased in a short amount of time. It was not long at all before leaded exhaust was puffing everywhere automobiles were sold. And while 1923 wasn’t exactly the Los Angeles of today, still, it was enough to fill the atmosphere with so much lead, it immediately started affecting the health of everyone who lived in cities.  It even affected Thomas Midgley himself. So much so, that in his own words,"I find that my lungs have been affected and that it is necessary to drop all work and get a large supply of fresh air." He went to Miami.

A year later, General Motors partnered with Standard Oil to create the Ethyl Gasoline Corporation. It’s first plant was in New Jersey. It wasn’t two months after the doors opened that workers suffered from astonishing illnesses: lead poisoning, hallucinations, insanity, and ultimately five workers died in rapid succession. Something was definitely wrong, even if the owners of the plant refused to deny it. Midgley was tasked with the tremendous undertaking of convincing the general public (and the courts I assume) that ethyl gasoline was not, in fact, dangerous, but a prduct that continues to advance the world’s progress.  In October of that same year, Thomas Midgley held a press conference where he first  poured tetra-ethyl lead over his bare hands. He then held a bottle of the stuff under his nose and breathed in the fumes for sixty seconds and reiterated that TEL was safe. He could do this every day without succumbing to any health of physical disability of any kind. The proud state of New Jersey didn’t buy it, shut down the plant, forbade Standard Oil from ever producing the fuel in New Jersey again, and Midgley was demoted.

But not forgotten. He had made GM and Standard Oil a ton of money. And don’t forget about the award from the chemists.  GM next charged Midgley with finding a non-toxic, safe refrigerant for everyday, household appliances.  Up until now, ammonia and ethyl-ether were being used, which, as you know, could have dire effects upon an individual if they were exposed to it internally. Ironic, then, that these units were used to protect food. Hence the call from GM.  And somewhere in the mid-twenties, Thomas Midgley once again came up with a solution.

A combination of chlorine, flourine, and carbon comes together to create a non-toxic compound that offers cool and refreshing effects: chlorofluorocarbons (CFCs). Another immediate success for Thomas Midgley. Another award from chemists. And for the next fifty years, CFCs were not only used in refrigerators, but in aerosol spray cans, asthma pumps, and more. This time, his legacy would be solidified.

But probably not for the way he had hoped. In later years, CFCs would be attacked by every environmental action committee in the civilized world.  CFCs were discovered to have a detrimental effect on the Earth’s ozone layer, which, as you know, offers us protection from the deep, cold reaches of space, and at least some defense against the sun’s radio active heat. Having it disappear, according to the loud proponents, would be monumentally bad. So CFCs, which, for every of its molecules in the air (and hang around for 50-100 years) destroys 10,000 ozone molecules at least, but again, according to some,  CFCs pull a Samson and destroy far more than that with far less than even a jawbone of a mule.

Still, in 1941 Thomas Midgley was awarded the Priestley Medal and in 1942 he was awarded the William Gibbs Medal - the two highest awards given by the American Chemical Society - the chemical equivalent to the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, no doubt. He held two honorary degrees. And became the president and chairman of the self-same Society that gave him all those medals hanging on his wall between his fridge and lysol cans.

This man, Thomas Midgley, lived in search of solutions. He never stopped. On the day he died, he was working on a solution for himself. He had been stricken with Polio in 1940 at the age of 51, which left him severely disabled.  But without having a single conceding bone in his body, he invented an intricate rope-and-pulley system to help him get up and in to bed. Clever? More than clever. Too clever. At the age of 55, Thomas Midgley, the inventor of leaded gasoline and CFCs was accidently strangled to death by his own invention, an invention that was created to prolong his independence.

In 1973, the United States put into action a plan that would reduce the use of leaded gasoline and in 1996, the Clean Air Act banned the sale of leaded fuel in on-road vehicles.  In 1989 the Montreal Protocol  prohibited the production and use of CFCs in all major countries who signed the treaty (including the U.S.).

I expect Thomas Midgley will not be remembered so much as how widespread his discoveries were used and how dramatically they were later attacked for their effect on the environment and, really, all living things. Certainly not a villain. He was just doing his job.  But the question that fascinates me, particularly on TEL, is “what if he had failed?” What if no one would have found the discovery of leaded fuel and industry was forced to advance the research in ethanol? The entire world’s landscape would undoubtedly be dramatically different. Economies, international relationships, financial fortunes….corn would be the defining commodity and the power brokers would not only include New York City, Detroit, but Cedar Rapids.

I admit I don’t know the lesson the tale of Thomas Midgley teaches. Perhaps it is to never give up even through success. Perhaps it is not to fear the future when you honestly pursue the greater good today. Perhaps it is simply, work hard, create, and get medals from chemists. Because you never know when what you’ve done will come back to turn your lungs black.

My brother is earning his degree in digital visual awesomeness (at least, that's what it SHOULD be called) and was asked to reinterpret a nursery rhyme, using a different context. I plan to frame it and put it in my office.

So it's here. Finally. I am always flabberghasted when I have reached the point of really turning the corner on something, inevitably something that deals with my health or my livlihood hinders its progress. But all that's behind me now, for here, on your glorious little screens is the first official and complete LaskVision podcast -- "The Brave Little Tailor".

Why did I choose this particular story from the Brothers' Grimm? No idea. Except that if your only relationship with this story is the Mickey Mouse version (which is excellently done, by the way) then you don't know the really REAL version. I've tried to stick to it, with reasonable wanderings, of course. I also like the story of a young man, considered to be of the lowest station - A TAILOR?! (as Tevye would say) rising up to the challenge of obstacles far greater than anyone should have to face on his own, not to mention taking responsibility for the mess he got himself into.

As it is the inaugural podcast, feel free to come down hard on it. Let me know what you liked, what you didn't, and if you did, pass the word along to your friends! I'm fascinated by the medium and want to offer the best stories possible at the highest production values.

If you're using IE, it won't read compliant code and messes up the pop up window (Piece of Junk). I refuse to compromise when the company that produces that crappy browser has the resources to rebuild a new one that works and yet the browser is still so crappy. So if you want to comment use this link-

Comment on the "Tailor"

Over to you.

Here it is. You ready?

"Once upon a time, there lived a young man who had everything he ever wanted without ever working for it, and never had any problems. The end."

It's really quite a paradox. This is, of course, not a story at all, but a story goal, at best. We all want to be this person, but the only reason we want to be this person in the first place is because of the lousy speeding ticket we got last week. Or the bad Mexican food. Or the cell phone bill that runs on its own time/space frame that causes it to grow inexplicably.

I must keep reminding myself that conflict is the essence of drama. And drama, like it or not, is entertaining.  Why is it that we love to see someone else's pain, as long as we don't have to suffer it ourselves? The Pursuit of Happyness made 200 million dollars in the theaters and 95% of it is about a guy who's just trying to find a place to sleep at night. Lord of the Rings made a billion dollars worldwide and all of 30 minutes of the entire trilogy is the bad guys winning. A billion dollars! And I won't mention just how many Oscar nominations have been about characters who are in a really bad way. Including all of the nominees this year. As John Stewart quipped, "Does Hollywood need a hug?" (I read about it. Didn't see it. Just like you, I expect.)

Of course the popular movies I noted (not the Oscar noms) aren't about the bad way. But about the triumph over the bad way. It's what makes the story interesting. As long as the bad way is relatable. Either it's something we can picture ourselves doing, wanting to do, or to the other extreme, so out of sight that it fascinates us to no end. The characters in the story have to act the same way we would act in that same set of circumstances, or how we would want to act. If a story hooks us like that, we're in for life. That's why my favorite movie in the world is "The Natural."

Those are the two things I need to remember in my own "Story Life." I need to remember that conflict is the essence of drama and drama is what makes a story interesting. Therefore, Conflict is interesting (the opposite of boring). And tif someone were to make a movie of my life, what part of the movie would this be? The climax (Dear Heaven, PLEASE NO!), the establishing and introducing of the characters? the defining moment? And how would I want the main character to act or react to the circumstances he's in? And can I really act the same way?

And to quell the speculation, my life is fine. The conflict I face does not include the death or imminent death of a loved one, a disease of any kind (at least that has been diagnosed. But  there’s GOT to be something wrong with my hair. It keeps...disappearing) or owing someone so much money that they will bust my kneecaps  and/or break my thumbs in order to get it back. The conflict I face comes from new challenges, stale circumstances, and really an ambition to reach potential. Good conflict. It’s no Indiana Jones searching for the salvation of a small Indian village, but until I get the whip and fedora, I’m all set.

And then, maybe the end of the story will read, “and he got everything he ever wanted, working very hard for it, and shared with his wife and family peace, for the rest of his days.”

What a great story.

This opens a whole new field of anticipation when introducing movies to the boy.

"Don’t talk back to Darth Vader…"

For those who don't know, my wife and I are expecting. Already it's weird. She's about 18 weeks along, and life has changed dramatically. One day I might have to write a book called, "Things I have no idea why no one told me about becoming a dad, except that maybe they'd be afraid I wouldn't become one." I'm serious. A million books on what the woman should expect. But the ol' pere? Nothin'. At least nothing good. Take the most recent of events:

Hope had her ultrasound yesterday and we found out that whatever is inside her is see-through and gray. But the heartbeat was immediately identified as the exact same  rhythm and timing in which “When in Rome” performs “The Promsie.” So, we're off to a good start.

Here’s pic one:

The face poked out from nowhere looking straight at us. This was what was happening most of the day. Is that normal? That your child should look like something from Jim Henson's Creature Shop?

Sometime down the line, we saw the profile and counted that all the parts were there, we thought, excellent. The legs were long enough to be counted as 22 weeks instead of the 18 which, I'm afraid to admit, probably means I won't be the tallest Lasko in the last hundred years anymore. I knew this going in, of course, knowing every male in my wife's family is about seven feet tall. Still, I was hoping it wouldn't be so short lived...

This one was awesome. "The Red Skull" is definitely in the running for the middle name. And they assured us through all kinds of gray mass and blobbiness that whatever was inside her was, indeed, a boy. But never did I hear anyone assure us that it was, indeed, a human. And after seeing the ultrasound, I feel I'm justified in thinking it would have been nice for someone to mention that just once. At least to me.

It took them a while to discover it was a boy because the punk had his little feet and legs all tucked up underneath his buttocks. But then I threatened him with the notion that he'd wear pink all his life if he didn't help the nice lady out, and he stretched his legs and let her peak. Three things I learned out of this: He's modest, he listens to his pop, and he has no interest in wearing pink.

I'm feeling pretty good right now.

Thanks for indulging me. I expect it won't be the last time I pontificate on the makings of a Dad. But I promise to keep it to a minimum.

I see a battle on the horizon.

Not one of swords and slings and stones, but a more social, philosophical battle that may sound ludicrous that one is so concerned with it, but to me and my circumstance, to my belief in what is green and good in this world, I fear the battle will be far more reaching that one can predict.

I’m talking about the battle between this culture’s desire to acquire information immediately and the power and impact of good storytelling. For they are in near direct opposition to one another. And as the battle ensues, we could lose out on great, memorable experiences.

Take a recent unpleasantness. I’m sitting in a conference room, waiting for a presentation to begin when the host fires up that wonderfully awful application and yes, aptly-named, PowerPoint. I hate PowerPoint. Loathe it. It is only just, after ten years on the market getting the flexibility to create a presentation that will not immediately put the audience to sleep. It would have been even longer had it not been for competition and brilliant revelation from Apple’s own software, Keynote. Beside the point. Listen, as soon as I saw that mind-numbing template, I walked out, asked him to send me the slides and I’d look at it later. Seriously. I have no interest in a presenter regurgitating information from a screen when I can read it myself.

I don’t want a voicebox. If there’s a presentation, I want a storyteller. I want someone to start with “Once upon a time” and end with “Happily Ever After”. I want to listen and see the conflict, the drama, the villain (the problem) the hero(usually, the buyer) and how this new instrument of power will slay my enemy and save the day. Who doesn’t want to hear that?

Instead, we are force-fed this bullet point culture, losing our imagination in the process, making decisions based on very little information, and having no fun at all. Maybe business isn’t supposed to be fun. Maybe time is so intensive that it’s better to be redundant than original and creative. But Apple, Pizar, Southwest Airlines, Disney, and plenty of other companies don’t think so.

Bose knocked my socks off. We were spending an afternoon shopping in Park City and came across the Bose store. I walked in and saw exactly what I expected. Stereo components spaced skillfully with artistic and dramatic lighting in modern displays. Great. They looked nice, but didn’t do much for me because I knew all this before I walked in the door.

But then a thing happened. We were led to a theater room, not particularly fancy, standard meeting chairs in front of a screen. Such a setting did not prepare me nor did I anticipate what I was about to see, which was this:

The best product presentation I have ever seen.

Bose sells stereo and home theater components. And they allowed me to experience it. When they turned the movie on, I expected clips of movies or MTV style editing that set my hair on fire and made my nose bleed. Didn’t get it. It started with a scene of a children’s theater putting on a show. A clear, powerful voiceover telling me how wonderful great sound was and how important it was to our experience. The film went on to discuss the various benefits of a Bose sound system in such an indescribable way except to say that it made Hope tear up. We were now and will be for a long time to come, emotionally invested in The Bose Lifestyle 48 Home Entertainment System. Everyone in the world should see this thing. If only for the experience.

That’s the difference between using the powerful principles of good storytelling and using simply PowerPoint. It’s the experience, the first and most persuasive way to sell anyone anything. We, human beings, value everything - from the restaurant we ate at last Saturday night to the movie theater we chose to the couch we bought to the ice cream scooper we used. It’s all about the emotional experience!

And a PowerPoint slide presentation is an experience I’ve had far too often that it is now impossible for me to have any time of emotional investment in the product. Let me be clear: it isn’t the medium. Just as we can watch movie after movie, we don’t get tired of the medium, but in how the information - the story - is presented. I don’t watch teen movies anymore because they’re all the same. Actually, I do watch some of the 80s movies still because why? Emotional investment.  They were the first of its kind that I saw. But when I kept seeing the same template over and over again, I echo the words of the great Homer Simpson:

Bor-ing!

I’m asking, no, PLEADING, with corporate America to please put the experience back into presentation. PLEASE, offer training to your presenters in how to keep an audience, how to speak to an audience, and how to present the information in the best story possible. It’s all I ask. I have to believe that I’m not the only individual forced to sit through these things, hoping my eyes don’t bleed from the sockets that wouldn’t be more interested in a first class story about how the hero (me) was helped by the wizard (them) by granting me the very weapon I needed to slay the corporate dragons I face everyday. Show me how it slays the dragons, what it feels like to slay that dragon. Give me a presentation like that, and I’ll have a difficult time not believing in you.

No wonder people hate their jobs.

I've recently been thinking about the stories behind certain dates. Significant dates, which are not common. You have the wedding date, your resignation from the job you hate date (if you're lucky), perhaps a launch a new business date (this one evades me. Every year it seems I set a date to launch a money making venture on the year's golden date - 04-04-04, 06-06-06, and so forth - but hasn't happened yet. Look out August 8th,) and then I suppose there could be a take the vacation I always dreamed of, date but I expect that's more of a general goal than a hard date. The rest of our significant dates happen to us - our birthdays, the day Kennedy was shot, won the lottery, whatever. The point is, with so few significant dates we get to control from the very beginning, do we really take the time to consider the impact?

Take the wedding date, for instance. People choose a certain date, why? I'm betting most choose due to convenient time frame, or what it is or isn't close to or the season. "I want to get married in six months",  "I can't have an anniversary too close to Christmas," "I will never get married in the summer." That kind of thing. And so the date is chosen without thought as to who or what you share it with!

Any of you married on April 20th? Hilter's birthday. What about June 15? When Typhoid Mary was exposed to the world. And how about this whopper, September 5, the day of the massacre at the Munich Olympics, an attempted assasination on Gerald Ford, and John McEnroe is fined $17,500 for tirades at US Tennis Open. Rough day.

But what about these dates? July 17, Disneyland opens its gates, the Beatles' "Yellow Submarine" premieres, and the first air conditioner was installed. That's a good day. April 12, the polio vaccine is announced to the world. And May 25, Star Wars premieres, I was born, and Martin Luther is declared an outlaw by the Church of Rome, which started a whole lot of somethin'.

I'm just saying, with a little more thought and effort, we can really start to separate the good days from the bad. Literally!

I am curious as to which date has to be considered the most fortunate where more positive, significant events happened. Send in your nominations now!

My wedding day? Awesome. The Continental Congress establishes the US Marine Corps, Knute Rockne gives his, "Win one for the Gipper Speech, Dan Marino throws for over 50,000 yards on  a pass to OJ McDuffie (who should have played with the Chargers) against the Indianapolis Colts, and best of all, Sesame Street debuts. Now that's a day.

So, Valentine’s Day, thanks to my Valentine, was pretty great. So great, in fact, I cannot keep it to myself.

I came home to Somer baking something fabulous in the oven that made the whole place smell like chocolate chip cookies which was not at all surprising since she was in fact, baking choclate chip cookies. Only they weren’t in cookie form as we all know. She has this brownie pan that makes the moistest, most consistent brownies you’ll ever have. And she put the cookie dough in that and baked it up.

We’ve forgotten what heaven was like, but these, these are a reminder.

I didn’t get to try them right away, though. Dinner was first. Crispy Orange Beef with rice and vegatables – quite possibly the best meal I’ve had in oh, 7 weeks (Christmas Dinner was pretty good too).

But here was the real fun part: She had little presents for me. I open the bag and what I should I see, but a bag of Wilbur’s Choclate Buds! Wilbur’s, as you may or may not know, was one of our stops on our Honeymoon while out in Dutch Country. And just so you understand, if Hershey Kisses are a 6, Wilbur Buds are like a 14. They’re just better. She also got a bag of Wilbur malt balls because I didn’t get any the first time around. Hope ate the whole bag.

So that was fun. But what was even fun-nier was the second present. I think it’s widely known that I, the extreme movie hobbyist, have never seen Casablanca. I know, it’s one of those wrinkles in the space and time that made it possible. Anyway, Hope gets it for me. And I’m thrilled! I look over the cover and a green piece of paper taped to it says, “Property of the City Library. Due 14 days from check out.”

What the?

“We have to watch it before we buy it so we know it’s good!”

Number 2 on the best films ever list, and she wants to make sure we like it. “We” being the operative word here, I think. Fair enough.

So we watched it while eating chocolate chip cookies/brownies (filled with Wilbur Buds, by the way). And I loved it. Hope liked it. She did, however, stay awake through the whole thing, which is a ringing endorsement if I've ever heard one.

I have now seen Casablanca. I now have a bag of chocolate that reminds me of one of the best experiences ever. And I have my Hope, who made it all happen.

Deserve it or no, I just wanted everyone to know what kind of wife I’ve been hooked with.

Happy Valentine's Day. Here's a story for you. It's a true story. 

So my wife's a nurse and works in a hospital. She was down at the "desk" getting her assignments for the day when a delivery truck with a big red rose on it's side drove up and sat itself right in front of the place. A guy gets out, opens the side door and pulls out a bunch of roses and a balloon and brings them right in. "These are for 'Darcey,'" he says.  It's hard to ignore such a delivery, being the first of the season (this was a couple of days ago), and so extravagent that you'd have to be blind and have lost your olfactory sense in a poorly executed industrial activity not to notice. The sender had obviously thought this through has he was a couple of days early (the element of surprise) and the balloon did more than just hover above the crowd in it's sparkling red aluminum (or whatever those metal balloons are made of.) it sang. It actually sang a song  - "You're Still the One" (not the Shania Twain version. The older version.  I made that mistake as well.)

So immediately a force of nurses chase after 'Darcey' to tell her of her fun and surprising delivery. They found her washing her hands. 

"Oh, no."

Shocking the nurses surrounding her, they had to ask why such a concerning response?

"I've known the guy six days. We've been out twice."

Youch.

Well, I guess the guy can take solace that up to that point, she was keeping count...can't expect it went much longer than six days though...