Twilight Eclipses my Comprehension

So, it’s that time again. Twilight Fandemonium hit with last night’s, 4,000 North American Theaters’ 12 a.m. to 3 a.m showings generating more than $30 million.

I suppose I shouldn’t comment on the phenomenon, not having seen the picture, and my earlier post, Twi-night of the Living Dead laid out my questions regarding “The Saga”, but really, how could the “Twilight” movie characters possibly be more compelling than Gary Cooper in High Noon, or Gregory Peck in The Gunfighter?

There are no reports that people lined up, breathlessly anticipating the midnight showing of those two great films. Were audiences simply more sophisticated in the 1950’s, or what gives?

Eclipse audiences are reported to display the same giddy response that might result from Congress passing a balanced budget amendment with a term limit rider – or say, would accompany the announcement of the elusive, yet-to-be produced, truly effective, hair-re-growth product.

The most famous vampire personage, Count Dracula, based on the historical figure, Vlad the Impaler, was an intolerant, cruel tyrant who ran pointed poles about 3” in diameter through his victims with the entry point being "where the sun don’t shine". As the victims were raised on the skewer, the weight of their bodies sank them further down the pole, the top of which eventually emerged somewhere around the clavicle. Death was slow and excruciating.

It baffles me how the proponent of this process might inspire any sort of romantic entertainment without extensive artistic license and heavy editing. Granted, the lead actors are reputed to possess physical traits that most women admire, but let’s be frank, these guys are freaks and their bites carry the risk of rabies at best (via the werewolves) and could consign you to an eternally soulless journey to nowhere (via the vampires).

It’s all a good romp, of course, until you find you have to submit to a series of painful rabies shots to the abdomen or can no longer tell if you got the part in your hair straight because your image no longer reflects in a mirror. Logically, wouldn't movies be the logical vehicles for effectively communicating these important warnings to our young people? And we wonder why they end up as walking tattoo billboards and jewelry display cases.

Anyway, I’ll present the opportunity again. If anyone can explain what the appeal is of these vampire/werewolf story motifs I would be interested in hearing from you.

Apologies for re-using the graphic from a previous post, but Baby Daughter is working 9 hour days, 6 days a week now and can no longer serve as my Photoshop-savvy assistant.

Advertising from My Formative Years

Back in the day, ads carried quite different viewpoints than those currently in fashion...

Influential or not, somehow, most of my compadres still turned out okay.

Click here for a sample gallery.

When You Need to Rent (Soccer) Fans, Who Ya Gonna Call?

Why, the Chinese, of course.



One of the stranger FIFA World Cup news stories to appear (so far) regards North Korea enlisting around a thousand PRC Chinese to pose as their “fans” during their soccer matches in South Africa.

Funny thing is, most of the Chinese who comprised the “fans volunteer army” knew next to nothing about soccer or the World Cup.

Evidently, the problem for the DPRNK was finding enough butts to fill their allocated seats at their games, butts that, presumably, could be trusted to return home at the end of the World Cup games. They managed to provide only a “group of 300 [who] had been carefully chosen by the North Korean Government.”

Being that the Norks were only able to “carefully select” 300 of their own people, they arranged for supplemental Chinese nationals to don the same red fan uniforms as their own people with the objective of providing support for their players.

You know, it has to be said, it’s bad enough when teams surreptitiously bring in ringers to play for them but when you have to fly in artificial fans, well, that that sets a new standard for the pathetic.

The London Evening Standard subject article reports, “Although they [DPRNK fan group] sang their national anthem loudly, the group tended only to cheer when directed by a man who stood before them like an orchestra’s conductor.”

Still, the Chinese were reported to be enjoying the games, cheering conductor and all. Can’t find any fault there. Lemons into lemonade: Wear a red uni and score free seats to a world class quadrennial sports event.

In a further botched attempt to endear North Korea to the world, the team’s “manager Kim Jong Hun rebuked a journalist for not using his country’s full name – Democratic People’s Republic of North Korea,” the same article reported.

Democratic People’s Republic, Banking Reform Bill... since when does a name of something have anything to do with accuracy of terms, anyway, right?

The saddest thing is, the North Koreans played decent soccer in their opener while losing to perennially strong Brazil by only one goal, and their back four defenders played very well together. You’ve got to give respect to the players. Obviously they’ve trained hard and have developed their skills, and playing in the shadow of an oppressive regime can’t be easy.

The Beautiful Game with the Annoying Sound

If you've watched any of the FIFA World Cup games, you've had to listen to the constant background noise from the vuvuzela crowd competing with the commentators' description of the action.

The noise is relentless and is reported to be at 127 decibels (for comparison, a chainsaw in operation is about 100 decibels; a jet taking off is 130 if you were to be standing next to the engines).

For the uninitiated, here's a guide to proper use of the vuvuzela.

click on image to enlarge

Personally, I hate the blankety-blank things.

via

A Tie is as Good as a...Draw

This would have been more timely on Monday, but I just saw this today.

I guess it's a cultural thing...

click on image to englarge

via

Will This Be on the Test?

I can just imagine the father of the writer of the question on the notice below - "Ya know, you buy 'em books, you send 'em to school,..." (drops chin to chest and shakes head back and forth slowly)...

Click on image to enlarge

Actually, I miss the long-gone days of learning when my classes were full of guys always ready to respond to anything logical and important with an irrelevant tangential comment like the one above. Made the days more interesting.

h/t to lumberjack

How to Choose a Career

Sometime during my senior year in high school, each of we students were told to write out our intended occupations, what we planned to do after graduation.

I had absolutely no career direction at the time. I had always viewed becoming competent at something and making a living as distant future situations.

My friend, Darron, had suggested to me that a couple of good career possibilities were, 1.) shepherd and 2.) organ grinder. I gave some thought to his recommendations and agreed they were not bad choices, so those are what I wrote down.

Shepherding seemed like honest work and not overly demanding, except, I reasoned, when you might have to pull a double shift if your reliever calls in sick. Shepherds often fared better than most others in the Bible. God seemed to favor them. Moses was a shepherd. King David started out as a shepherd. Jesus is the Good Shepherd. God sent the angels to shepherds to first announce Jesus’ birth…


On the other hand, if you were a professional organ grinder you got to have a monkey, which also counted as a business deduction on your taxes. I had never seen very many organ grinders around so I supposed the market wasn’t over-supplied with them. Image in the field seemed to be paramount, though. Could I grow the requisite mustache to be able to pull off the full effect? Probably not for another year or so, I concluded.


Having been lying in bed off and on over the past few days trying to get over this cold that invaded my sinuses, eyes, ears, throat and chest, I’ve been musing over my career choice and path.

It's never been a secret that I drifted into architecture sideways, starting off studying something else. One of my instructors told me he thought I should go into architecture. Really?, I thought, well…er, uh, yeah, okay…, I guess.

And that was about it. I made the change and continued through school, spent a few summers working construction, graduated, got my first architecture job, and then another, and on and on until finally becoming my own boss almost eleven years ago.

My 40th year high school reunion is next year. I made the 10th and 25th but couldn't make the 5,000 mile trip from Hawai'i to the others. I’ve been wondering this week how many of my former classmates made their career decisions thoughtfully and deliberately versus how many just wandered into a path, as I did. I wouldn’t mind listening to some of them tell their stories on the subject.

Incidentally, my classmate, Darron, chose to become a medical doctor and work as a research scientist at a major university, which was probably a good career choice. I doubt that either shepherding or organ grinding could have matched the benefits of his current position.

It’s For the Children

It’s tough starting a new business in the current economic climate. Our research suggests that tapping into parental insecurity, competitiveness and, in may cases, guilt remains a potent marketing force not yet fully exploited by industry supermarket stand periodicals (last stop along the impulse sale trail).

Some time ago my “son and only” came up with a magazine idea that seems destined for every preschooler’s mother’s nightstand reading pile. We believe we’ll still be the first to enter this sub-market sub-niche. With the summer solstice arriving next month (northern hemisphere only, condolences, Australia), we feel the timing couldn’t be better.

Actually, the whole idea was my son’s and he’ll be doing most of the work. I’m just tagging along for encouragement and profits. I’ve tried hard to pass along to him everything I’ve learned about business. You’ll note from the photo the essential tools I’ve emphasized - serious demeanor; upright posture; conservative, navy blue suit; red power tie; gum-soled wingtips - it’s all there.



He got off to a slow start and the entire operation is still being run out of his briefcase but recently he has gotten a head. He decided to go with his guts because corporate headhunters charge outrageous fees for bringing in a CEO. There was a wide selection of CEO's available on e-bay at very reasonable prices. He went with the cheapest (figure at middle right in photo) to keep overhead down, which so far, he’s doing. Being especially compact, our CEO can fly for a $25 baggage charge to most destinations.

Magazine issues are expected to appear semi-annually, at first. The winter issue will carry a special insert for markets in Arctic Lapland, Siberia, and much of Canada featuring topics such as “Selecting the Right Artificial Light Array for Your Child to Stare At During the 6 Dark Months” and “Comparing Videogame Screen Backlights – You’ll Be Surprised Which tested out for Optimum Radiation Benefit.”

This will probably end my previous part-time, fill-in work, advice giving, since I won’t have time for 2 extra jobs. Plus, there’s just too much free advice available out there and the market for my services faces relentless competition from other opinionated people. Never saw that coming.

This, though, has to be a sure-fire winner.

The Hair Up There

It had been three to four weeks, so today it was time for another haircut. I’m still trying to resolve the cognitive dissonance that occurs by looking at my reflection uninterruptedly for twenty minutes, or so. My mind cannot seem to accept that what’s in front of me isn’t some kind of distorting, carnival mirror that stretches the width of the reflected image.

My barberette was in true form:

She: “Your hair’s gotten long this time.”

I: “Think I should go for the Mohawk?”

She: Manages polite, yet undoubtedly fake, smile with no comment.

I: “Okay, then what about a Faux-hawk?”

We finally settled on a No-hawk, which closely resembles “The Usual.”

To help attach an increase in status to the style that has become my last stop along the hairstyle option spectrum before the “Michael Jordan” terminus, henceforth "The Usual" will be re-named after former University of Hawaii, and now SMU, head football coach, June Jones.

In the future, when, or more probably, if my barberette ever again asks me how I want it, I’m going to request the “June Jones.” That’s June Jones, not June Cleaver, got it?

The "June Jones" (formerly, a.k.a, the "No-Hawk")


The "June Cleaver" (not recommended for most men)


The "Michael Jordan" (a.k.a. the "Hair Graveyard")

Resolving the Real Men vs. Quiche Controversy

Back in the early 1980’s, Reader’s Digest published excerpts from a book entitled, Real Men Don’t Eat Quiche. The title / statement / opinion insinuated that no manly-type male would ever eat something soft and gummy, like quiche, when instead he could choose to rip into more rugged table fare, like steak or pork chops. Sadly, publication of the article unleashed far-reaching repercussions on the unsuspecting male public.

The book’s title quickly became a slogan of masculine reaffirmation, which, paradoxically, if not naturally, opened up a whole new set of opportunities for humiliation by one’s male peers.

The year the book came out I was playing on a Kona men’s league softball team. A fielding error often led to being called a “quiche-eater,” the implication being that only a squishy, overly-sensitive man like a Phil Donohue, or an Alan Alda, would have missed such an easy play, or perhaps that the fielder must have forgotten to bring his manhood along that day. The accusation usually developed like something along these lines:

“Aaaah! Quiche-eater!

“Who’re you calling a quiche-eater?”

“You, who else? Only a quiche-eater would miss an easy out like that!”

“Oh, yeah? What makes you the expert?

“I’m the captain, the titular head of the team!”

“You’re a titular head, all right!”

“YOU’RE the titular head.”

“No, YOU are!”

“That’s what I said!”

“Okay, then!”

Eventually, quiche-related criticism would wane and play would resume until the next unforgivable error.

I’m sure you can grasp how formative life lessons like this can leave a man apprehensive about ever being caught eating, let alone making, quiche. However, since my masculine self-identity is feeling quite invincible at the moment, I will unflinchingly confess to both.

Yeah, you heard right, I’m admitting it! I made a quiche as a gift for my wife for Mother’s Day. I was in need of some sort of gesture to show appreciation for the five pups kids she popped out. I knew she liked quiche. The rest of us have learned to eat it. Helpfully, she brought home all of the necessary ingredients from the grocery store so that I wouldn’t have to leave the family kennel compound on a special trip to town.

Flowers and a Hallmark card with supplementary, handwritten, emotive sentiments would have been the easy way out, of course. My gift was a much more creative, personal, and quite possibly more-economical, expression of love and appreciation.

I assume, my well-contemplated gift was blissfully received and will reap handsome dividends, relationship-wise, for the near term. I should probably ask though, just to make sure.

Here’s the recipe source. Incidently, don’t worry if all the bacon pieces fall to the bottom. I found out ex post facto that’s to be expected. Also, you may want to use the fancier French cheese (as far as I know, we’re still back on friendly terms with the French) instead of the thriftier Kraft-brand Swiss cheese that I used. I used heavy whipping cream in place of creme fraiche.

Men, you might want to take a shot at this. The recipe is pretty easy and women seem to savor the results. Importantly, almost nobody uses “quiche-eater” as a derogatory expression anymore. In fact, the term has almost passed from the collective male memory, possibly due to resigned acceptance of the U.S. Department of Defense's “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell" policy, or maybe from pressure brought to bear on the media from quiche industry-aligned politicians and interest groups.

Whatever the reason, today it’s become possible for real men and quiche to co-exist peacefully to a degree unimaginable a mere three decades ago.

Randy’s First Resume

What did YOUR first resume look like?

Graduating from architecture school during the years of the Carter recession, I found the prospects of obtaining first-job professional-employment with a skimpy resume about as promising as trying to separate the fly droppings from the pepper.

A young graduate that our Midwestern office hired in the early ‘nineties, Randy T., went through a similar experience. He once noted that if he had been completely honest about his qualifications, his first resume would have looked like this:

RANDY T--------

309 E. John Street

Champaign, Illinois 61820

(217) --- ----

OBJECTIVE:

To obtain the position for which I am applying.

SCHOOL:

University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign

Degree: Master of Architecture

Graduation Date: May, 1993

Degree: B.S. Architectural Studies

Graduation Date: May, 1990

PLACES I’VE WORKED:

Barracco’s Pizzaria, Evergreen Park, IL

- Delivered pizzas really fast.

- Got some awesome tips from some rich dudes.

- Managed to control my temper when I got stiffed.

Sportmart, Orland Hills, IL

- Wore a tie to work every single day.

- Put sporting goods on the shelves for people to buy.

- Was never more than 7-1/2 minutes late to work.

- Did not stare at the babes trying on shoes in the shoe department.

Southwest Pet Shop, Bridgeview, IL

- Could catch up to 14 goldfish in one swoop of the net.

- Mopped the whole floor at least 5 times a day.

- Counted change real good.

- Could carry over 100 lbs. of dog food at a time – impressed the delivery guys.

ACTIVITIES:

- Collect frogs and some lizards.

- Go fishing whenever someone will take me on his boat.

- Sleep in real late on some Saturdays.

- Cut the lawn before my dad gets pissed.

- Go driving around late at night to find toads breeding in ditches.

- Sneak in U-turns when there’s no cops around.

- Stick sleeping people’s hands in warm water and laughing as they pee their pants.

- Ate 13 White Castle burgers for lunch once.

REFERENCES:

- Dad (not when he’s in a bad mood, though)

- Mom

- Faith, my sister

- Grandma D-----

- Grandma T--------

- Grandpa T--------

- Michelle, my girlfriend

Long story short, we hired him. Not on the basis of this resume (which we hadn’t yet seen), of course, but the strength of his padded one was, if not compelling, much more impressive - to architects, anyway (probably not as much to herpetologists).

I haven’t seen Randy in 15 years. I’m sure he’s found success. He told me once that, back when he worked at the pet shop, he personally taste-tested all the brands of dry dog food. Otherwise, he explained, he couldn’t have honestly told the customers which one was the best.

And, of course, honesty is how you get ahead in the world.

Back on Track

Just a quick report here noting that I did remember to wear pants to the gym this time. Had anyone there today noticed that Monday I had forgotten to cover the worn spandex? Hard to say. I did encounter a few uncomfortable looking smiles, but that's not unusual for me, even under normal circumstances.

Before leaving this afternoon, as I was tying the drawstring of my shorts I noticed that the waist seemed saggy. Man, looks like I'm losing some serious weight on my new year's eating plan, I thought. Finally!

With anticipation running high, I stepped on the scale for a more quantitative measure of my success. Huh?!... I tried zeroing out the scale and stepping on it again.

Sadly, I've gained about 10 pounds. The science is still being reviewed but preliminary analysis indicates that apparently both the scale and the bathroom mirror are accurate, and the worn waist-band elastic on my shorts is the factor skewing the expected results.

So, the good news today is that I left the house fully dressed per plan. The bad news is I was deceived by shelf-life-expired elastic into thinking I had successfully achieved a portion of targeted weight loss.

For any of you who are genetically predisposed to be slender and cannot find empathy in the situation, it is analogous to placing an order from Amazon on December 22 and receiving it on December 24, only to discover that instead of the i-pad you ordered, they shipped you a plastic three-ring binder. Or something close to that.

Pant-less in Kona

Back in college, one of my friends asked if anybody else had ever had that dream where you’re walking along and you suddenly realize you’re naked. An alternate version of the dream is where you find yourself in public in just your undershorts, like you forgot to get dressed before going out.

I was thinking, “Ever?!” Of course! It was in my top four most frequent dream themes, along with the ones where you can’t remember where you parked your car, or you’ve got a final exam (or semester project due) and realize you’ve forgotten to attend that class all semester, or you’re back in high school and can’t remember your locker number (or locker combination). Failed memory seems to be a robust theme in my less-pleasant dreams.

Anyway, back to the first paragraph – yesterday, that dream became prophetically fulfilled.

Late in the afternoon, I had driven to the gym, parked the car, bar-coded in with my pass, stretched out and was in the middle of my second set of chin-ups, when I noticed from the mirror on the opposite wall, that I had forgotten to put on my outer shorts.

I was wearing (this, usually sub-surface, for me) a faded pair of spandex compression shorts, extensively worn out in the seat from cycling, which, I suppose on some younger, more athletic-looking physical specimen would have caused little alarm, perhaps even admiration. Realizing my workout was abruptly over, I retreated to my car while trying to present a confident “Yeah, I dressed like this on purpose,” false facade.

When I arrived home, baby girl met me on the lanai asking if, instead of her going, I could go pick up beloved wife, whom I had dropped off on my way to the gym, with the assurance that I’d be staying there late to try to get in two days worth of workout. Naturally, she was surprised to see me so soon.

Wife: “Did you change your mind about going to the gym?”

I: “No, I went. I just came back because I forgot to wear pants.”

Wife: “I noticed you were only wearing the spandex.”

I: “You could have mentioned it.” Sheesh! What does she think wives are for, anyway!

Wife: "I thought that was just your new look. How could you forget to wear pants?”

I: “Well, there’s just so much to have to remember!”

Wife remained wisely silent.

I: “Okay, that did sound a little weak.” On a day when you forget to put on your pants before going out, there’s a low-probability chance that you, extemporaneously, anyway, will be able to come up with any kind of excusable reason for having done so.

Wife: “People work out in just spandex shorts.” She went on to cite son-in-law number two, who works out in spandex shorts.

I: “Son-law-number two is a competitive tri-athlete who weighs 50 pounds less than I at roughly the same height.”

Wife: “Well, at least you have something to write about in your blog.”

Small comfort, and this from someone who rarely reads my blog posts anyway, which, makes her like about 98% of everyone else I know.

In my defense, I had spent much of today trying to figure out the right fee to charge as part of our proposal for the first design job of its kind to come our way in years, and then kicking numbers around with my partner over the phone. I was still pondering our proposal on the way to the gym, present physically, absent mentally practically the whole time.

Jobs like this one we’re trying to win have become rare around here in the new economy As my partner says, each job that comes along is like a crumb that falls to the floor, which is immediately swarmed by 15 cockroaches architects. The trick is to submit a proposal that’s competitive enough to win the job but not so low that you wind up at the end working for nothing just to be able to complete the project and finish out the contract.

During tough times, it’s reasonable to expect that the architects who remember to wear pants have at least one leg up on the competition. For good measure, I should probably borrow beloved wife’s lipstick and write on the vanity mirror: GOT PANTS? – maybe tape a note on the dashboard too.

Conversations with My Barberette

Photo from better hair times...

Some time ago, in another place, my hair limitations started becoming evident.

Woman hair stylist: So, how do you want it this time?

I: Make me look like a movie star.

Woman hair stylist: (After studying me with pensive frown) Hmmm,…Gene Hackman okay?

For the last ten or so years, I’ve been getting my hair cut by a different woman. She’s a trained, experienced hair stylist too . Styling seems too grandiose a term for what is possible with the hair I can now offer to work with, so I simply refer to her as my barberette.

In the earlier part of the new millennium, we did ponder the possibilities together.

She: So, what would you like today?

I: A haircut that makes me the desire of women and the envy of men.

She: So, clean up the sides and a little off the top?

I: You’re the expert.

Another time:

She: So, how do you want it this time?

I: Make me look like a rock star.

I: (After she finishes): This supposed to be rock star?

She: Phil Collins!

I: Actually, I was thinking of something more like Jon Bonjovi but, yeah, I guess I can see it.

And another time:

I: I gotta say it kinda hurts to see so much inter-spatial hair-gapitis after you finish.

She: What? You’ve still got lots of hair.

I: I only look like I have hair to people who are shorter than I.

She: **snort**

My barberette does excellent work, yet, I’ve reached the point where the possibilities are so limited that she no longer asks how I want it “this time.” Apparently, the only remaining solution manifests itself without requiring verbal description - a case of simplicity over style with, sadly, a dearth of substance of the top-hair variety.

Somehow, life still goes on.

California Confronts Tax Revenue Shortfall

From Bernie:
The financial crisis is forcing California agencies to make some tough decisions.
(click on image to enlarge)

"There's a real risk that we may have to lay off Jose."
via

Fixing Women's Problems

As a natural born and always-have-been male, I always assume that when women share their feelings they are looking to me for advice as to how to fix their problems. Often, I’m able to do this in a quick sentence or two while rapidly switching between the three or four TV programs I’m watching all at the same time.

Amazing as it sounds, sometimes I can come up with advice before a particular woman has even finished speaking. Why waste time if the solution is obvious, right?

This extraordinary gift, which should be revered, seems to generate little gratitude in response. Baffling as it sounds, anger is the most frequent follow-up response I get.

I guess the only thing I could compare to it would be the response on the part of the populace to the passage of the health care reform bill.

The Essential Serious Tone and Posture

Two minute video. Far too many interviews with notable people are just like this. Pick your own analogous situation - politicians caught in scandal, the Fed under examination for its monetary practices, teenagers with dog-eaten homework excuses - they often end up sounding about as credible as this.

Grammar & Punctuation, Part 1

...and they say men never listen!

h/t to Skip Tucker

Part-time Career Path Detour

Well, so much for my idea of gaining supplementary income in part-time celebrity employment.

A surprisingly large number of people I know are adamantly convinced that being a part-time celebrity is impossible. They believe it’s like attempting to be be part-time pregnant or part-time married or part-time dead. “Either you is…or you isn’t!” seems to be the most (grammar-challenged and) commonly-stated position on the subject. Leave it to your friends to throw cold water on your dreams.

I’m still having trouble seeing it that way since, before TARP and the accompanying credit crisis, I was a full-time architect and am now, for all practical purposes, a part-time architect. Naturally, it was a small leap of logic that celebrity status might be similarly unfixed. Truthfully, I still slip back and forth on conclusions about the matter.

Anyway, I’ve gone back to the drawing board (which in actuality doesn’t exist anymore, having been replaced with computer workstations) and decided that the best supplementary income opportunity for me is to offer marital advice for a small fee.

Why marital advice, you wonder? Well, I’m married myself, my parents are married…heck, some of my best friends are married. I’ve been around married people all my life. I think I could successfully argue that I’m more qualified to offer marital advice than a literature professor who’s never written and published a profitable novel is qualified to teach literature.

Some might point out that there’s already a bunch of advice out there on how to be successfully married but I say, a fat lot of good it’s all doing, right? There seems to be no limit to opportunity, in that there are still a lot of disastrous marriages and people thoroughly confused on the subject. Besides, speaking of confusion, who’s to say my opinions on the subject aren’t at least as credible as anyone else’s?

So, anyone need some marital advice? My first advice is a free sample; after that I’ll have to charge you. I can’t remember where I learned of that business model before, but I’ve heard it helps develop client loyalty, something that we could all use more of.

Free sample advice example: Unless you are very rich and can support two households in lavish fashion, stay married. I’m afraid that any advice beyond this will cost you, but it will still be way cheaper than divorce. I can’t promise that I can help solve all your problems overnight but, that’s why I’ll be charging by the hour.

In order to expand into other fill-able need areas, I guess I should reach beyond marital advice alone and also offer marriage-avoidance counseling, but you need to let me know going in which one you want to focus on so I don’t end up wasting your time and money.

Sound like a plan?

I’m really excited about this new direction. It’s not just about the money either but I’ll be helping other people while also doing something I really love – telling other people what to think and do. I don’t know why I didn’t see this possibility earlier.

Part-time Celebrity Career Path

While it doesn’t appear to be a zero-sum game overall, presumably, there’s only so much room at the top for part-time celebrity aspirants. Over a lifetime of experiencing various disappointments, I’ve learned the hard way that it’s important to avoid setting unrealistically high goals. For me, just aiming to enter at the top ten percent of part-time celebrities seems like a big enough target to start with.

Celebrity-mania seems to know no bounds but let’s face it, celebrity-fatigue of specific individuals does happen. Logically, this can only result in opening up opportunities for fresher, full and part-time, celebrities, to move in on someone else’s celebrity territory – assuming they can introduce greater personal value to some celebrity-dependent enterprise.

Being virtually unknown, my own lack of overexposure has to be counted as one of my biggest assets. Another is, I’m not bogged down with type-casting or limited by expectations based on public perception. As a blank slate, I believe I’m in the perfect position to offer multi-dimensional celebrity possibilities that long-established celebrities can only dream of.

We’ve probably all noticed that possessing talent doesn’t seem to be necessary to become a celebrity, nor does having contributed anything to our society. Anybody can become a celebrity. That’s the great thing about America. I mean, you’ve got your Paris Hiltons, your Kim Kardashians, or whichever one of the Kardashians they’re marketing these days… and on the men’s side, half the people who show up as guests on Letterman I’ve never even heard of. I can’t think of a single one of his guests who’ve caused taxes to go down or made my life better in any other way. Yet in this great country of ours, these all still have managed to achieve celebrity appeal and generate income by trading on their names (Note to self: I should probably redo my resume, so as not to appear over-qualified).

I’ve long said, in a country where Rosie O’Donnell’s vitriolic ravings are considered commendable enough to merit (formerly) her own TV and (now) radio talk shows, where Tom Hanks can play the romantic lead (instead of the more believable dorky side-kick) in movie after movie, and a gravel grinding-voiced performer like Joe Cocker can make it big as a singer… well, all I’m saying is that the requirements for becoming a successful celebrity don’t seem to be all that demanding, do they? And remember, I only need a part-time celebrity position, so the requirements should be considerably less exacting, still.

Here’s a list of celebrity-functions I think I could drop into without much trouble: Grand openings, product endorsement, cartoon-voicing, opinion interviews, sporting-event half-time shows, TV series cameo appearances and featured speaking engagements on the knife and fork circuit. Anybody have any other ideas?

I realize I’m going have to be willing to have my photo taken with various sweat suit- clad, free-loading tire-kickers, as well as mixing with glamorous nincompoops from the chardonnay-sipping set at red-carpet events. That just goes with the territory. I do, however, intend to draw the line at lending my future personal allure as a part-time celebrity to political rallies, no matter how much it costs me in income in the short term.

I’d have to be naïve to think that breaking into this business just happens. I’m willing to work hard to attain part-time celebrity status, although, so as not to sabotage myself, I’m also willing to just fall into it through sheer luck.

Here is the only problem, though. I’m facing the age-old conundrum: Lacking any celebrity experience, how do I get started in this work? I’m looking for suggestions as to how to establish my credibility as a part-time celebrity. For moral reasons, salacious videos are out and I’d prefer to not have to do anything that could land me in jail or raise my car insurance rates. Otherwise, I’m open to considering all options. I’m inviting everyone to submit their most creative ideas.

Also, does anyone have any contacts in the celebrity biz? Someone here on the island that could be helpful in getting me started would be most convenient.

Thanks, everybody. I’m looking forward both to receiving your helpful suggestions and the income-supplementing opportunities awaiting me in part-time celebrity enterprise.