If I were president

For me and my fellow Americans, something truly magical happens once every fourth year. We get to watch a field of rich old white men vie to become the (semi)elected leader of the United States.

(Well, also February gets an extra day, so I guess two magical things happen every fourth year.)

This year is no different. OK, it's a little different, because there are a couple of non-ROWMs in the presidential race --- and not just in it, but seriously contending with a real shot at election.

Between the slanderous election ads, the millions of dollars in political-favor-IOUs accrued by each candidate, and the constant reminders that the winner will probably accomplish nothing in the long run, the yearlong campaign season is perhaps one of the most special times in an American's life.

It's like Christmas for a solid 12 months, maybe longer --- so exciting, in fact, that it almost makes me want to join in.

Here (after a painfully drawn-out introduction) I find myself thinking what I would do if I were president:

First, I'd send a $600 rebate check to every working, tax-paying American.

Wait. No. I'm thinking of somebody else.

OK, first, I'd get really serious about the environment. In many ways (mostly morbid ones) I think it should be our top priority. What I mean is: in the worst-case scenarios, if disease, poverty, lack of health care or terrorist attacks go unchecked and ravage our society, the outcomes would almost certainly be such that mankind could recover from them with time. In the case of the environment, if we totally destroy our air and water to the point that we can't breathe and drink them (respectively) then there's a pretty solid chance human life would end. Maybe its unreasonable of me to plan for the worst-case scenario, but nonetheless the argument makes the point that environmental issues are far more serious than I've seen any politician give them credit for (except maybe Al Gore, but I still suspect he's trying to sell something; plus he no longer holds a political office). Despite the efforts of activist groups, trees and fresh water still don't carry the kind of political clout as, oh say, electric power utilities and oil companies.

My particular solutions would need further research. But initially I'm thinking a somewhat more serious push for conservation and lifestyle changes, not just bandages such as 5 percent more ethanol in our gas. I think we'd be looking at heavy usage taxes on automobiles and/or gasoline and more funding for improved public transit systems. As much as I'd like to, in principle, be a small government, libertarian-type leader, I'm afraid in reality people just aren't going to make the necessary changes until they're given some strong incentive. Alternative fuels for our three cars per household are not enough. People need a reason to drive less. Otherwise, not only will we keep burning absurd amounts of gasoline, but we'll also keep building absurd amounts of new highways to battle the congestion.

How's that for a campaign speech? What red-blooded American could hear a campaign promise like that and not rush right out and write a fat campaign-donation check?

OK, what else? $600 rebate checks? Anyone? No? All right, then.

I suppose we've got to do something about health care, and I'd be lying if I claimed to know what it is. I know this much: the federal government is perhaps the least efficient organization on the planet, and I don't really want to give it anything else to run. In other words, a universal, government-run health care program sounds like a bad idea to me.

I do tend to agree that our current system is broken, but I don't think making it more complicated and bureaucratic is the answer. I like trends toward transparency in pricing, for example. As it is now, there's no motivation for health care providers to compete on price, because no one knows what the prices are. The prices are different for each patient, too, depending on what the insurance companies have negotiated.

Wow. This presidenting is hard.

As for the war against terror, I'd probably just send Osama a nice handwritten letter on some pretty stationery and ask him to start playing nice. I think he would see my point.

I'm well aware that I don't have all the answers, nor would I be able to figure them all out even if I spent a full year doing nothing but researching and planning for a campaign (which is exactly how I currently have 2011 blocked off). In this awareness, however, I would do my best to surround myself with brilliant thinkers. I suspect my cabinet would look more like an academic council than a political body.

Or maybe I'd just build a massive water slide on the White House lawn with taxpayer dollars. We'll see. I'm open to suggestions.

Because Mickey will stop reading if I don't

I realize I've gone all week without posting, and I actually have a post in mind that will take a little while to compose. So, as my workday is slipping away from me, I hope Mickey and the other faithful (albeit less demanding) readers will accept this link to a funny Onion editorial article as a peace offering. Enjoy:

"Back in My Day, Being an American Gladiator Actually Meant Something," by Turbo

Bittersweet satisfaction

Well, you've all been aware of my recent shameless ploys to attract Google hits to this site, and having just received my weekly Sitemeter report I can happily inform you that my appetite has been appeased (for now).

The really good news is that my recent flood of Google hits (we're talking 12, maybe 13, by the way) came mostly as the result of decent, respectable search topics -- not related to aforementioned shameless ploys for hits.

More than half of those hits came from searches related to the movie "Juno," and if I had had the foresight (and technological know-how) to post sound bites of the movie's soundtrack with my review then I actually would have satisfied the desires of two or three of those Web searchers.

I also got a few hits from people literally searching for ways to waste (or "waist" in one instance) time online. I feel confident I helped those people out. One hit came from a person wanting the Internets to tell him or her "how to start my own meat processing company." Punk probably stole my deer meat idea, but if it helps stave off obesity for someone or slow the melting of the planet (by cutting down on flatulence-driven cattle industry emissions) then I most likely won't sue -- although in all fairness I should be entitled to some consulting fee and/or royalty payments on the idea. I've got your IP address, dude. Seriously, don't rip me off.

Only one of my glorious Google hits came from someone wanting to learn more about Britney. Sorry to let you down, guy, but I lied. There are no nude photos at this site, nor gossip-news about Britney's blunders, which was actually what you searched for. You must have had an insatiable appetite, too, because there's no way this site came up in the top 20 of your results list, given the vast amount of Britney-related drivel on the Web. (Almost forgot to put a parenthetical statement in this paragraph. That could have been ugly.)

So... there it is. A dozen or so random people spent an average of three seconds on my site, only to quickly click away without reading or commenting on anything (much less bookmarking me, I assume). I feel so interconnected.

American Idol is back! (or how I plan to lose several IQ points in the coming weeks)

Confession time:

This week, upon the return of "American Idol" to the TV lineup, I spent a solid four hours watching heavily deluded, tone-deaf people have their grossly misguided dreams crushed by the ever-amused trio of judges: Randy, Paula and Simon.

And it was hysterical.

After six seasons of the show, you would think viewers would be sick of watching vocally challenged Americans line up by the tens of thousands for a chance to show us all just how terrible they are at singing. But you'd be wrong, cause we're not.

I suppose "American Idol" is best known to many as a singing competition between a couple dozen finalists, on whom the viewers vote via phone calls and text messages each week, until a winner is selected and vaulted to semi-stardom in the pop music world -- or else a single Ford commercial and then total oblivion, depending on their mass market appeal.

But there are those of us who prefer the season's earlier episodes -- the auditions. These follow a careful formula:

1. We watch two to three scenes of atrocious singers butchering a song that wasn't very good to start with, after which the judges (depending on their moods) either insult them or say 'you're nice, but keep your day job' and send them on their way.

2. Then we get to see one pretty good singer (or one pretty girl, whose singing doesn't sound like the screech of a cat being raped), and that person gets a "golden ticket" to compete in the next round in Hollywood.

3. We see a vignette telling us about some contestant's life, including video clips of them working on the farm or drawing artwork or whatever they do in their real life, and we get to meet their families. The sadder his/her story, the more likely that he/she will be a terrible singer and then the judges will have to try not to laugh or verbally abuse them while telling them they should never, ever sing a song again.

4. We see a contestant who either A) is mentally disabled or B) knowingly came to the audition to do something deliberately dumb or (if we're lucky) funny on national television. Here, Randy and Paula laugh and say 'thanks for coming, now please leave' and Simon scowls and motions for security to escort this person out of the room.

5. We're taken into commercial break by a montage of people badly and comically singing the same song (while the original recording of the song plays in the background, so that we will actually know what song it is that these people are supposed to be singing). Ryan Seacrest is also there.

And that, folks, is fantastic television.

I am fully aware that parts of it are rather mean and demeaning, as I probably laughed at some mentally retarded people last night and Tuesday. Also, the whole thing is very repetitive and borderline obnoxious.

But none of that, nor the realization that I am probably losing an IQ point for every hour I watch, can tear me away. I am addicted.

This truly is people-watching at its finest. It's the highlight reel of people watching. You know, some people will sit at a mall or an airport for hours waiting to catch a glimpse of one weirdo, dressed bizarrely and saying freaking stuff. Well, I can get two solid hours of that from the comfort of my couch.

Even better, I've noticed that something about singing brings out the inner absurdities of people who might come off as reasonably sane in a conversation or other average situation.

So, moral of the story is: don't wait around to watch the finals of "American Idol," when they'll try to convince you that one of these mediocre singers is the next Top 40 superstar.

Watch now, when the whole point is laughing at these fools.

Marketing geniuses

Just got a spam e-mail with the subject line "tasting the tits of two tawdry tarts." Really superb alliteration there.

See, if more spammers would use clever subject lines like this (plus spell all the words correctly) they might have more chance of people opening their e-mails. I mean, come on: aren't we all sick and tired of "supersize your penis" and "confidential request" (you know the one from the Nigerian prince who needs help transferring $17 million into the U.S. through your bank account). Come up with something more clever, guys.

From what I read and the comments of business people I've interviewed, I get the sense that companies are getting more interested in shifting toward e-mail marketing efforts and away from mail-based and other forms. I'm talking about legitimate companies that you might actually want to do business with, not just porn sites and penis enlargement companies.

(Aside: if I did want to enlarge my penis -- and I don't; this is strictly hypothetical -- would I take some product provided by a company I've never heard of and marketed to me via mass e-mail? I don't think so -- even if I did want or need to enlarge my penis, which I don't.)

But as long as all the e-advertising that you receive is such garbage, there's no chance that you'll ever open any of it. So it can't gain any credibility.

That's right folks: I'm trying to take a mindless post inspired by an alliterative e-mail subject line and turn it into a serious discussion of how e-mail could potentially gain ground as a legitimate means of advertising.

What a schmuck. I can't believe the six of you still read me.

But really, it would be much better environmentally if we could see that cultural shift happen, so that Papa Johns and Sonic would e-mail me coupons instead of sending them in paper form to my (snail)mailbox. I guess I'd have to give them my e-mail address for that to happen, though, huh?

On that note, do you think the phone book will ever list e-mail addresses? Or websites? I kind of hope not for the sake of this blog, because really I want more and more anonymity and more and more readership at the same time.

Oh cruel, paradoxical blogosphere. Why do you torment me?

Here's a link to a video of dancing monkeys. Just because. That should get me some Google hits.

And in conclusion, I shall attempt some clever, potentially alliterative subject lines that could be used in similar spam e-mails to the one I got today:

-Bouncing, bubbly blondes bare their boobs (that one was too obvious)

-Caught cute cooters on camera (are they cute? is that the quality I'd really want to advertise?)

-Girls giving guys the good stuff (not great, but it's a start)

Well, these are not nearly as clever as my inspiration, mentioned above. But this certainly should push up my Google hits. (Also: Britney Spears nude, naked midget jello wrestling, how to save money on your taxes)

Hurray for "Juno"

After a couple of months of anticipation, I finally got to see "Juno" on Friday night, starring Ellen Page, Michael Cera, Jason Bateman and Jennifer Garner -- even if I did have to drive 30 minutes to find a theater playing it.

Disappointed I was not. Quite enjoyable it was. Yoda-speak, enough of already.

The film follows the story of a 16-year-old girl who discovers she's pregnant after what I think was her first sexual encounter. (I'm not sure if that point is made clear; though in an argument Juno does quip to baby-daddy Paulie Bleeker (Michael Cera) that she still has his virginity.) She promptly makes an appointment at an abortion clinic, but she can't go through with it after a pro-life classmate protesting outside the clinic tells her the fetus already has fingernails and the waiting room of the clinic looks like the kind of place you wouldn't dare buy auto insurance, much less submit to a medical procedure.

After the aborted abortion, Juno decides she'll find a nice childless couple (but not too nice; she wants someone a little edgy) and give the baby up for adoption -- meaning of course she's willing to carry it to term and deliver the child. The couple turns out to be played by Jason Bateman and Jennifer Garner, as you've probably guessed.

I won't spoil the whole plot for you, because you really should see the film yourself. But basically, it's a quite funny and sweet movie with a peculiar soundtrack that I felt the urge to whistle periodically over the weekend after watching it.

Juno is a wise-cracking, quasi-bohemian teen, and Paulie Bleeker is, well, the same awkward, timid teen boy that Michael Cera played in "Arrested Development," and probably everything else he's ever done. But I'll still find him funny long after everyone else is sick of him, so there.

The movie had a nice indie-flick quality to it, but not so indie that I had to endure dark, bouncing camera work or extensive subtitles. Actually there were no subtitles. (I'm sure that Jacob will have some lesson for me here about why "Juno" is not technically an independent film, but I read in some online article that it was and that's good enough for me. Besides, baiting Jacob is a good way to draw comments on my posts.)

You may have read some critics' reviews claiming the humor of the film is a bit forced and the dialogue unreasonably witty for high schoolers. Well, those critics are crotchety old SOBs, so don't listen to them.

Actually, they've got somewhat of a point. The humor does rely heavily on one-liners that sometimes feel out of place. If these characters tried to live in a sitcom, it would get old after a few weeks, I think. But for the length of this movie, I found it delightful.

Yes, I said delightful. Deduct man points if you must.

Now, for a few glowing, detached sound bites to improve my chances of having this blog quoted on a TV commercial or at the Golden Globes or something (since Ellen Page is nominated for her performance):

"...witty...delightful..."

"...quite funny and sweet..."

"Ellen Page... was... edgy... and... bohemian..."

I suppose I don't gush enough for quality sound bites. But I give it five stars, so maybe someone will quote me on that.

Of Venison and Roof Repair

Some day I'm going to start my own business.

Actually, I probably won't, because I'm not much of a risk-taker and I don't dig working super-long hours, as successful entrepreneurs are prone to do.

But still, on the surface, I like the idea of starting my own business, and so it's something that I tell myself I will do one day. Play along, will you?

I have no shortage of ideas for a business. They come at me for no good reason at times when I'm supposed to be thinking about other things, such as my current job that actually does afford me a paycheck and means of living in a house with food and clothing and other such luxuries.

Nevertheless, when I start my own business (wink, wink) I want it to provide a product or service that is actually good and useful for people in the real world -- not just something that I think I can convince people to pay me money for to further their laziness and addiction to shiny objects that perform basic tasks for them so they don't have to use their hands.

Like the Clapper. I'm not about to try to revive the Clapper.

So my latest ideas for a business are these: (and don't steal them) 1. a venison processing and distribution company, and 2. a home repair and maintenance franchise company.

1. I think the venison company is a good idea for a couple of reasons. First, venison (deer meat, if you're confused) is a lean, healthful alternative to beef or pork. It can be used to replace red meat in just about any recipe. Also, in many rural areas nationwide, hunters are already doing the harvesting work just for fun and many of them would probably be glad to sell some or all of the meat from their kills -- maybe even give it away if the company paid the processing cost and sent them a few pounds of steaks and ground meat.

The other thing I like about the venison idea is that there's a real overpopulation of deer in Georgia and probably other parts of the country. It's a pre-existing meat source, so it doesn't represent a negative environmental impact like the cattle farming industry.

2. It recently occurred to me that I've fallen behind by more than a little bit on some basic home maintenance and repair projects at my 50-plus-year-old house. I let a roof leak over my porch continue for several months before fixing it on Tuesday, which ended up costing me zero dollars and about one hour. (Fixing the damage from the leak will be a different story.) We also still haven't raked/mulched the leaves from the five or six oak trees in our front yard.

Meaghan and I are young, healthy people, so if we fall behind like this (partly because of busy schedules, partly because we prefer relaxing on the weekends to working non-stop) then how does an elderly woman living alone keep up an old house? I posed this question to Meaghan the other day, and her response was, "She doesn't. That's why so many old houses are falling apart."

Sure, there are local handymen everywhere who can help people with these problems. But who knows who these guys are and which ones can be trusted? I think a lot of homeowners would prefer to use a reputable, well-known company, which could be built by designing a training/certification process and selling franchises/licenses to some of these local handymen who want to make a full-time business of it.

So those are my latest ideas. Now, I never claimed my ideas were economically viable. In fact, both would probably be good ways for me to go broke trying to build distribution networks, training materials and paying for sales and marketing to get the company name out there.

Plus I have no business experience and know nothing about meat processing, distribution or franchising. I have developed a few handyman skills, but probably not enough that someone would pay me for them, much less pay me to train them to be a handyman.

Actually, you know what? You guys can steal these ideas if you want.

Just, if you hit it big, send me some deer steaks.

Back to work

For those readers who were irked, envious and annoyed by my last post, alas there is good news. It appears I have discovered the down side to getting an 11-day holiday break from work (supplemented heavily by paid vacation days).

On day 12, you have to go back to work.

It's kind of like a freefall off the side of a skyscraper. It's exhilarating while it lasts, but then at the end you smash into the pavement, or maybe the top of someone's car. I'm speaking strictly based on what I've seen on TV and my own imagination. I have never leapt off a skyscraper, or any building for that matter, and I strongly discourage my readers (especially the ones who leave comments) from trying it themselves.

OK, maybe that's a bit overdramatic. What can I say? I'm a classic drama queen.

Sorry? What's that? Oh, you're right. I'm not a drama queen. I have no excuse, then, do I?

Well, the point is (I think there's a point, albeit a small one): I've had to go back to work, and it's a bit of a downer. Fortunately, the phones have been kind to me today, as one CEO answered his phone when I called and two other top executives called me back the same day. I like my job, especially when I get the chance to talk to humans and write articles -- not as much on days when I make 12 to 15 cold calls and then sit impatiently waiting for the phone not to ring.

The other good news is, Mickey will have one more occasional, infrequent way to while away the hours at his job. He sounded so sad and desperate last week, didn't he? Pleading for us to write. I felt a little bad for last-week Mickey when I returned to the blogosphere this afternoon.

I wish I could assure him that I'll do better in the New Year, providing him with some more mindless reading material at least three times a week. But haven't I made enough empty promises?

Oh, all right. I promise.