False Advertising

I have a growing problem. Fortunately I don’t need Viagara to help it.

I also have an on-going growing problem. But I don’t take Avodart for it.

It’s funny how much advertising is directed at men these days. And it is interesting how creative advertisers have become in my lifetime.

Thirty years ago when a woman was considering bra options the only advertising on TV was a bra on a mannequin. Now they show them on hot babes. Yes sir they do. And this comment will probably get me in trouble with the Princess, but what else is new. I am a man and I have to routinely insert my foot in my mouth. At least I am being honest, the women are hot.

As for the other female necessities, they still advertise them, too. They are a little more creative about it, but men immediately start talking about something else when these ads come on the TV during the obligatory chick show that we now willingly watch because some hot TV hostess ran a segment with a less than hot doctor whose analysis suggested men and women would get along better if men were more understanding of the female mentality.

So we watch Desperate Housewives. Really eager dudes will even watch the Lifetime Channel and their myriad of real life tear jerking dramas with actresses who used to be hot and had a hot career 20 plus years ago.

Honestly, do they think we want to know about how active a woman can still be one week out of the month if they use their product? No. Quite frankly I have observed women during these ads and they don’t seem too interested either.

Then there are all of the new advertisements for men’s ailments. If your manhood is experiencing difficulty and is currently less than useful, there are at least three different pills that can help it rise to the occasion. If the same manhood is requiring too much use in the powder room during that beer infested football game, there is a pill to help with that too. Funny they are both “growing problems” and one gets you going, one stops you from going.

My problem is a little different. I currently belong to a segment that is at least 200,000 strong, if you count Sahds the way the US Census does. Meaning stay at home dads who don’t earn anything. Since I earn about half a buck a day writing, I no longer count. However, if you count dads who earn a little out of the house, then it rises to an estimated 2 million and I count. If you also count single dads who do work, then we are into another 5 million plus. None of the ads on tv caters to us when it comes to kids.

Back to school? Those ads have moms. Raising the kids. Ditto. Sick kids? Yep. You get the picture.

None of the ads considers that it could be the dad doing it. Whatever happened to equality? Now I know that they are just advertising to the majority, but if we are going to have equality then we need to have it in at least a few ads. I am not the only dad who complains about this. On the dad websites, they talk about this all the time.

Well I don’t work for an ad agency, but I did sell advertising for a year. And because I did, I accept that I am not going to change this. Why? Because national advertising is sold on a cost per point, or impression. And media buyers aren’t impressed with our numbers.

So even though we are growing, we won’t see a change in this anytime soon. And they don’t have a pill to fix it. However, you can help me with my other growing problem.

I need to increase my readership. I always email and Twitter and Facebook when I publish something new because Examiner.com tells me I should. It does work, but the only true way to get it growing more is if you, my reader, forward this or one of my other pieces on. I hear from many of you that you find these funny, so if you do, please forward to some of your friends. If they like it, they can ask to be included in my email listing.

Help me with my “growing problem” so I can fund my pill problem. Yep, I have to take cholesterol pills and the Purple Pill. Apparently they can damage my liver more than the yellow stuff carried by Clydesdales and sold by talking frogs who are tail gate tested and tail gate approved already have. But that’s another story.

Reflections

Connecting with old friends is a lot easier today than it used to be. We have Facebook, Linkedin and Twitter to thank for that.

Seeing pictures of old friends from 30 years ago has me doing a lot of reflecting. We used to call that a mid-life crisis followed by a girlfriend and a Porsche. Since the Princess won't allow me either of those, I am content to simply reflect.

The other day I told her about reconnecting with a guy I first met in the fourth grade. I mentioned that the last time I recalled seeing him was when we both skipped school and he schooled me in a game of darts in his basement.

Being the overachiever that we have all come to love, she immediately asked me how I became such a bad guy and how do we prevent Carson from the sins of the father. Naturally I was more interested in reminiscing about the dart game.

I didn't answer her. Partially because I didn't think it warranted an immediate answer (read: I disagreed on my badness)and I needed to think.

As a digression ladies, men really do need time to think about their answers. When we open our mouths we get in trouble. Thinking like a lawyer for a few minutes serves us well, even if it means we aren't as "sharing emotionally" as you would prefer.

As I said in my last blog, we get what we need. Some folks would say we only get what we can handle.

I believe that talking with your kid often and early can prevent a lot of ills. I just read (albeit in a Baldacci novel) that children form most of their psychological makeup by age 6. I don't know if that is true, and I don't care. What I do care about is happiness, love and kindness.

The old saying, people don't care how much you know until they know how much you care, applies in my world. And I want Carson to know how much I care.

As he grows up, I focus on keeping him safe physically and emotionally. And I teach him how to be considerate and think for himself. I don't want him to be an actor, a ballplayer, a lawyer or anything. I want him to find his own way.

When I was allowed to read Playboy (yes, some of us do like the articles), there used to be an advertisement on the back that I related to. It was a picture of a sax player with an open instrument case for donations. The caption read, "Do what you love. The rest comes."

As I reflected yesterday, I wonder how many of my classmates are doing what they love. Probably very few. Most people get caught up with money, debt, mortgages etc.

Of course, money makes the world go round and your kids do need financial/physical security. However, most people I have met always want their kids to be happy. They don't care whether they become financially rich, they want them to be emotionally rich.

This is in my opinion, a good departure from the past.

When I was recruiting, I noted how today's graduates from accounting schools have a more rounded background. I was in the Honors Business Program at UT. It was only offered to about a hundred or so students of over 10,000. When I met some of the kids in the program today, I found them to be smarter than we were. They also volunteered more. Had a more fuller life. Drinking and drugs may be a small part of their life, but not the focus.

The other thing I noted was they don't want to work the long hours of their parent's generation. Not because they weren't overachievers. Rather they had witnessed divorce, lost jobs and a home with parents working more than they were home. No longer did working massive hours mean success.

Now I happen to believe that the correct ground is somewhere in the middle. But if a person hedges toward time with their child instead of the corner office, how can you disagree with that?

So that is how I answer the question. Fill him with ideas, love and hope. Let the rest come.

Whatever will happen for Carson, only God and time knows. But that's Carson's story.

You can't always get what you want

I did not attend my 30th high school reunion. Not because I didn't want to. The Princess had to work that weekend and finding a sitter for Carson on an overnight is not that easy, or cheap.

I just looked at some photos from the event and I see that our valedictorian attended. Along with 45 others out of about 350 or so. Not the greatest attendance, but not bad either.

It has only been recently that my parents attend their reunions and those are from over 50 years ago, so our class has time.

I wonder out of all those people, how many ended up where they wanted to or at least where they thought they would.

When I was a senior, I took a psych class where the teacher asked us to fill out an index card with our goals and he would mail them 5, perhaps more, years later. I was surprised that mine found me, since we had moved away only a year after that. For the five year mark, I was surprisingly on target.

Clearly from my blogs, I am not on the track anymore.

The funny thing is, most people who are financially successful didn't set out to be. I have a friend who was a lawyer and now has a 25 year success story as a recruiter. My wife who does incredibly well wanted to be a mom.

I guess the one thing I always wanted was to be happily married. It only took me three times to get that right.

A current song by those of you who listen to the radio is the Miley Cyrus song, "The Climb." Regardless of what you think about her or the song, the lyrics are really true, the climb is what life is all about. It isn't whether you get there or how well off you are when you do.

I have known some very wealthy people and they aren't always very happy. I know that having money helps eliminate one issue, but it can and does create others.

I think that too many people today get so focused on making money, they forget to enjoy the climb. And those that do make a lot of money, in most cases, spend way too much time on the job instead of enjoying the people around them. And that is why there are so many divorces: not focusing on each other. Failing to remember why you said "I do."

The same goes for kids. People quit remembering why they said "I do" to wanting a kid and fail to give them the one thing they need, "time." It is truly the one thing that money can't buy. And it is a great equalizer in the end. Because when you spend so much effort toward one, you lose sight of the other.

Don't get me wrong. I wish I had a ton of money (the Princess wishes that I did too). But all I ever really wanted, I now have. The Princess and Carson.

And thus, you get what you need.

R-Rated

When we lived in St. Croix, we lived in the Hess Camp Compound. They had a club with pool and ping pong tables and tennis courts. Once a month they showed first run movies.

In 1970, they were showing the new R-rated Sam Peckinpah movie, "The Ballad of Cable Hogue." It was admittedly a controversial departure from Disney and Davey Crocket. Many of the kids were not allowed by their parents to go in and see it.

We were. Obviously, or I wouldn't write about it.

The movie was a western that took place towards the end of the wild west, as there was an automobile in it, which was ironically Cable's (Jason Robards) undoing (it ran over him). The movie had very little gunslinging, a little cursing and no skin was shown. It did have the obligatory saloon "gals" and poker. Today it wouldn't rate a PG-13 (I looked up the scale) and today's pre-teen boys wouldn't watch it even if it was R. Transformers PG-13 delivers better babes and blood.

The Princess wasn't allowed to see an R movie until she was in college.

Carson has seen a couple. (However, the Princess has decided he won’t be seeing any more anytime soon, which means I won’t either; unless, I watch them after 9 am chores completion and before she comes home. After she reads this, my chores list will undoubtedly be increasing.)

His favorite is (was) "40 Year Old Virgin" uncut and unrated. It would have been rated an X back in my day. Does this make us bad parents? I don't think so. The Princess might.

This country is so obsessed with sex and its entire spectrum. We have the horrified prudes and "the eh so what." I fall towards the latter, as most of you knew, or just figured out. So does most of Europe. And Asia. And so forth.

My brother and I watched Cable Hogue and neither of us are gun slinging, whore-loving deviants. Although, the Princess does tend to take exception to my rather liberal use of four letter words. I might point out that I didn’t learn them in movies.

The interesting thing about today's sex scenes in films, which the Princess has decided Carson shouldn't see, yet laughs at when he does, is he isn't interested in them. Every time that portion of the movie comes on, he is never paying attention. It is the other parts that he finds funny, and doesn't understand either. His favorite scene is when the boys get together to play poker (that's my boy) and talk about the size of various women's "poopahs," as Carson likes to refer to them.

He still believes that babies are placed in a mommy's tummy through her head, so we are not too concerned about him having sex anytime soon. Or ending up a deviant.

Two nights ago, while the Princess was away, Carson and I cheated on the movies. We watched Notting Hill. Yep, a chick flick. The cheating was that we watched a chick flick. It is rated PG-13 for sexual content and brief strong language. If you count the fact that Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts are naked in bed (no nudity shown), then I guess that counts. As for language it is British cursing mostly about bugger off and wanker.

In the movie, Julia is shown pregnant in the last scene. For the first time Carson asked why? Gratefully, not how. Although if he had been interested he might have figured it out from 40 Year Old Virgin’s sister film Knocked Up. Which we started to watch with him, and quickly decided not to, thus ending his run on Judd Apatow films.

Quite frankly, we get more concerned when he watches The Incredibles, a cartoon. Because there is violence in it (you didn't think it had a sex scene did you?). But, since it is rated PG acceptable for him, we let him watch it, and it doesn't seem to give him nightmares.

As I reflect, if movies do influence young children, I suppose we may have to worry about Carson playing strip poker dressed as Mr. Incredible.

We don't allow any movies with extreme PG-13 violence, because those do scare him, and they scare the Princess. So I have to watch them by myself. Love that blood and violence, especially when combined with poker, a la Sopranos.

Don't worry, I don't own a gun.

And yeah, there is a strange twist. The X rated/unrated movies, we watch(ed) as a family. The R-rated gratuitous violence flicks, I have to watch by myself. Quite the opposite of when I was younger.

But that’s, ahem, another story....

Music to My Ears

It's funny what we remember.

I just recently reconnected with an old friend from the 4th grade. Thanks to Facebook. I mentioned that he was the first person I met in my new school. We had just moved to NJ from St. Croix. It was fairly cold, but no snow or rain that day. We were living in a Holiday Inn while our house was being built. So we didn't ride the bus yet and we were too far away to walk. But my Mom made me wear my snow boots! I complained, but was "overruled." I arrived to class late and was taking off my boots and a kid nicknamed Tweety leaned over and whispered, "Do you play kickball?" I had no idea what that was, but I replied yes anyway and joined the group for my first game during lunch. Today he goes by the name, "Tweed," and he is a kickball/PE teacher to autistic kids. And he plays in a band.

Music has always been important to me. One of my earliest memories of living in Peru (before St. Croix), was of my parents playing Guantanamera on the record player. To this day, I love to hear that song. As many of you know, it is always a request in any Gringo Mexican restaurant. Apparently we only know that song, Feliz Navidad and La Cucaracha.

Carson loves that song. He and the Princess always sing, One Ton Tomato, da da da, One Ton Tomato.

Another memory I have is my Mom driving us around St. Croix playing the radio and we would always hear Simon and Garfunkel playing one of their hits from The Graduate.

It's funny, I don't remember anything my dad listened to when we were young. We always complained about country, so he put on news radio.

I like all genre's, except most rap I can do without. And Carson really is learning to appreciate all kinds as well. The Princess used to only listen to country. I may have lived in Texas and Louisiana for 30 years, but the only country I ever heard came from Urban Cowboy. My Dad used to love country, even listened to it in New Jersey. Today you can't find a country station in Connecticut. Which I find amazing considering how popular it is overall. Carrie Underwood, Taylor Swift, Brad Paisley and others are burning up the charts.

So Carson loves country. And he loves music that I like. Pink Floyd was one of his first favorites since he could giggle. The sound of the chimes from Time and the cash register from Money always made him laugh. Once he began talking, he always asked for those. In addition, he loves the Eagles, Pink, the American Idols (which was his first concert), and of course, Bruce. One day I will introduce him to Yes and Genesis. He already knows all about the Pussy Cat Dolls. Don't Cha. When I was his age I liked Josie and the Pussycats. I have to admit, I like his choice a little better. Don't you?

One day, he will pass on to his kids a love of music. I am sure One ton tomato, the chiming bells and the Boss will be in the mix. And some music that his generation creates that we aren't ready for.

I doubt he will pass on a gift of playing an instrument. I tried the guitar, but the 70 Percenter that I am, just hated to practice. So air guitar and banging on bongos like a chimpanzee will have to do. Funny, I only found out 3 months ago my Dad played drums in a band long ago. But that's another story.

Gig 'em

Before I started writing this blog and my column for Examiner.com, I really could be done with my “chores” by 9 am and opening the first beer of the day. Not that I ever have, I just liked knowing that I could. Sort of like the 2nd amendment guys who like to know they can own lots of guns. Come to think of it, they do.

Well, I don’t pop the brew at 9. I am too old. My knees pop more than the cans do. And my hands have arthritis, so I need a cheater to really open a lot of cans. And then I just have to go to the can, so I am finding it better to just lay off till 5 pm.

Besides now I have a 9 to 5 job. Yep. It takes me all day to write my column and blog. On a good day, I make $2 for the column and zip for the blog. On a bad day, I make 50C for the column. Still zip for the blog.

Before I stayed home, I made a lot more than the average worker in the US. Even in a bad year. The Princess is probably scratching her head about that and pulling out my old W-2’s. Okay, it has been awhile since I had a good year.

I never thought I would end up doing this. Except for the occasional poem and sweet card (and one rant to our local representatives), I haven’t really written a whole lot. I am sure our congressman is grateful for that. In fact, he probably celebrated we moved out of his district.

Anyway, my teachers in High School wanted me to do this. They thought I would be good at it and I would enjoy it. Aside from getting high (it was the 70’s), I figured that was a dead end route that didn’t pay anything. Turns out we were both right.

I do love it. And it doesn’t pay anything. Except an occasional reply from one of you that you enjoyed that day’s blog. And that gives me more satisfaction than I ever imagined.
Plus, I can no longer be included in the US Census as a Sahd, because I have a paying gig. That ought to make my Dad happy. Perhaps not my father-in law.

But as the Texas A&M Aggies say, Gig ‘em if they can’t take a joke.

Don’t get excited Aggies, I still don’t like you on Thanksgiving Day. And Carson can still go anywhere but there and Oklahoma. Some things never change. But that’s another story.

Legacy Pt. 2

A great friend of mine wrote me last week how he loves my blog, but wished I cared more about trees. I wrote back, I am an environmentalist, and have been since I was very young living in New Jersey.

While I was in elementary school, they ran a contest about recycling. I received a blue ribbon for my submission. Not because I could draw, you know I can’t, rather I could rhyme. “Dig this scene, help keep Bridgewater clean.” I used a real canvas, stencils (can’t write), a ruler (truly can’t draw) and paint. I painted a man only slightly more refined than a stick figure, taking his recyclable items to the center. I never got it back, because they kept the best ones. So I can’t prove it to you. Maybe my Mom can find the blue ribbon. This isn’t to brag. Rather to make a point.

Our grandfathers drilled for oil, created plastics, cars, electric generation plants, warships, rockets, etc. Our dads improved them.

The first generation didn’t know that plastics could be carcinogenic. Neither did our dads. Just like they didn’t know that cigarettes kill.

Our generation has no excuse.

Yes, I smoked. Quit. Started again. Quit again. Started again. Quit for good. I am not a hypocrite. I knew smoking was bad.

Today, we all know that all of the things our grandparents created were awesome inventions, with one serious drawback. They are serious polluters.

I didn’t vote for Gore. I only recently saw his movie “An Inconvenient Truth.” When he won the Oscar for it, I just figured it was an award given to a Democrat by Democrats.

I am not anti-business. In fact I believe in business. Responsible business.

As you know, I write for Examiner.com. They don’t editorialize our submissions, which is why my grammar and punctuation stinks. And it is why some articles get through that, in my opinion, shouldn’t. Yesterday, an older writer submitted that a physicist had predicted the cold snap in the mid-west three months ago. In fact, he nailed it within a couple of days. The prediction was based on sun activity. He further wrote that the weather patterns are not affected by greenhouse gasses or anything Man has done in the past or is doing now. He blamed Gore and others for trying to pass legislation not to protect us, rather only to create more business for “green” companies. That was the first time I ever read a negative article about Gore because he was pro-business. Bush beat him on the idea he wasn’t. Go figure.

Some people I have spoken to don’t believe Gore either. And, they say, even if he is right, they won’t be here when all of these bad things happen.

What kind of legacy is that? Don’t Carson’s grandkids deserve clean air? Do we really want a world like we see in Wall.E filled with trash?

Even if Gore is wrong and the old man is right, creating jobs isn’t such a bad thing. And if he is right? I hope that our generation does enough to ensure our children’s future. Like recycling paper, or going paperless when possible.

I recycle everything I can. I get sick about it when I don’t. So does the Princess. And we are teaching Carson. Why? Because we know better.

All the money in Bill Gates’ bank account won’t help Carson with his future, if we leave the world worse than we were given it.

I do wish I had all that money, though. But that’s another story.