THEN: Secretary of State (KY), 1996-2004; Candidate for Lieutenant Governor, 2007
NOW: JYB3 Group (Owner) -public affairs consulting firm; Miller Wells law firm (Of counsel)
Full Biography:link
By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Nov 1, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
A couple months ago I took my awesomely cool and stupendously hip daughter on a father – daughter weekend.
She had a choice of a modestly priced event in a reasonably nearby city.
Her choice? Lollapalooza in Chicago How could I say no? I mean, Anthony Kiedis and I are practically soul-mates. We are both about 50 years old, both like the RHCP , think Flea is cool and many, many other similarities too.
There were no other father – daughter couples we could ask to take a good picture of us. So this is as good as I could get.
Was it fun?
It was a disastrous blast.
Maggie is always game and willing to find the possibilities amidst the most unusual circumstances—like hanging with pop at an outdoor rock concert trying to replicate Woodstock with thousands of muddy, sloshed 17-24 year olds. And a 14 and 49 year old.
Oh, I got to see Anthony Kiedas, albeit from several hundred feet away.
I don’t think he saw me, but knowing my soul-mate was alive and well and jammin’ with Flea, made me smile. ; )
By John Y. Brown III, on Wed Oct 31, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
I was once a millionaire.
Not for long. But for about a year. And I only recently found out about it. Even though it happened some 40 years ago, I find myself reflecting a lot recently on that year—“My Big Year.” And asking myself, what went wrong and what can I learn from it?
In 1971 my father sold his controlling interest in Kentucky Fried Chicken. He made a good deal of money and, as the story goes,
created a $1M trust for each of his three children, my two sisters (Sissy and Sandy) and me.
Which was a surprise hearing about all these years later since my father reminded us regularly growing up that he didn’t believe in giving his children money because it would take away their motivation. But this one time, he apparently did. (In my teens I once suggested he test his theory by doing a pilot project with me as the one child who gets money–and my two sisters as the control groups— and see how I do. “If I fail,” I reasoned, “you can continue with your current policy and be reassured by recent supporting data that you are doing the right thing.” But all I got was a laugh.)
Anyway, I was 8 years old at the time and totally oblivious to the fact that I was a millionaire. At least I was “on paper,” as a lot of millionaires seem to be fond of saying. I’m not sure what that means but I like the sound of it and so I’m repeating it here.
Read the rest of… John Y’s Musings from the Middle: I Once Was a Millionaire
By John Y. Brown III, on Tue Oct 30, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
“When I was a child….I spake as a child….but when I became an adult, I still wanted to sound younger than I really am.”
Really.
There probably should be a rule that people over, say, age 34 shouldn’t be allowed to use hip lingo. Because it never sounds as good as hoped when a midster (or beyond) tries using new jargon. And often goes far worse than was foreseen as possible.
For example, the other night while in California, a hypothetical person (we’ll say “a friend”) was overheard trying to use the terminology “Hooked up” while talking to several younger colleagues.
“So, a couple years later they hooked up again in New York. Not, like, the modern “hooking up” but, you know, the more….the older…I mean more traditional meaning of hooking up. I mean. They didn’t …I’m not saying they, like, you….ha…um….you know. I don’t mean intimately. It’s possible, isn’t it, to hook up and not be about sex, right?”
Colleague: “It can.”
Hypothetical person (friend): “OK. That’s the kind of hooking up I was trying to infer..I mean imply. So, anyway….the more traditional meaning of hooking up. I tell you what….Let me start over. Do you know what “meet up” means?”
Colleague: “Yes.”
Hypothetical person (friend): “OK, They met up in New York….Just forget my whole experiment with trying to fit “hooked up” into my story. It was a bad idea.”
By John Y. Brown III, on Mon Oct 29, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
Another day traveling by air.
Another day with mild to modest frustration with a major airline.
The major airlines seem more and more to remind me of a old school ma’arm, just waiting to slap you on the wrist for something inconsequential.
Mostly because they enjoy doing it…
And another day, thankfully, salvaged by Southwest.
The new cool substitute teacher that all the students love. And all the school marmy teachers hate. ; )
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In SouCal airports you see a lot of people who look like celebrities, carry themselves like a celebrity , and who want to be confused for a celebrity–but who are not a celebrity.
I think it’s fun.
The fun part for me is staring at them awestruck and looking like, carrying myself like and wanting to be confused for one of their fans.
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It smells good in California.
Even in the airport.
Clean.
It’s like people here shower two or three times a day.
Or use some sort of New Age magnetic device that repels dirt and dust and prevents perspiration.
It’s not quite human.
Like a fresh fruity well-toned Droid who just finished another colon cleanse.
I somehow worry that people I say hi too will suspect I don’t smell like one of them and know I’m not from here.
The low level humming from my iPhone from the Black Crowes isn’t helping any either
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It’s a dog’s life —not!
Remember the bleak saying about every down-and-outer getting their moment, “Every dog has it’s day”? I doubt that gets used in SoCal.
As I pulled out of the airport into San Diego last night the one thing I noticed over….and over…. and, yes, over again…was the privileged life that dogs lead out here.
At least one in three people I saw out last night in a suburb near downtown San Diego were walking their well-groomed, poised and, frankly, self-confident dog(s). Not in a cutesy or ostentatious way, like Paris Hilton carrying a tiny lap dog in her purse as a sort of panting accoutrement. Rather it was a normal person finally acting like the “dog’s best friend” we’ve always promised to be but—as any dog you know will tell you—have not lived up to.
And that attention and connection with their human shows, too—shows in the way SoCal dogs carry themselves and interact with other dogs—and even humans. They have a carriage about them which says, “Welcome to my town. Notice my owner. Pretty cool guy, huh?” It’s like the dogs are as self-conscious of who is walking them as their owners are about impressing others with their choice and type and breed of dog.
It’s darn near like the dogs out her are treated as a separate but co-equal species to humans. When you see a person and their dog on a chain walking, it’s not like back home. It’s like a couple out to get ice cream. Sure, the human appears to have control of the leash, but I suspect if you look closely it’s some sort of mutual canine-human leash that lets the two co-equal species stay together but without holding hands, or paws.
Oh, and dogs aren’t left outside here when their human pet goes into a store. No hitching post for these darlings. The dog walks in with every right to be there as anybody else. And seems a little impatient because there isn’t a larger canine section.
And as much as I hate to admit it, these dogs can be intimidating to people visiting from out of town. A strong-and-silent type pit bull was in Rite Aid last night with a cute young couple for a walk. The dog was well-manicured and obviously a female because it had a little bow in the corner of its well-coiffed mane. She began sniffing me—not like other dogs…but slyly as if by accident— and I instantly felt self-conscious when the dog looked up at me with these soft but probing and judgmental eyes. Although my new domesticated pit bull acquaintance didn’t say these exact words out loud, she was clearly thinking “You’re not from around here, are you? What….what kind of –whatever it is that you are….are you? And don’t even think about cutting in front of us in line. I’ll bite you and humiliate you in front of everyone. I’m still a dog, you know. Are we clear?”
I nodded affirmatively to the dog. I recovered my bearings long enough to realize something wasn’t quite right and mumbled, “Nice bow.”
The dog’s head whipped around as if to say, “What was that?!” “What?” I said. “I didn’t say anything.” The human owners looked oddly at me.
I offered, “Sorry. I wasn’t talking to you.”
It was the first time in a very long time that I felt like Junior from Hee-Haw stammering for something to say and knowing it would not be something appropriate or helpful. So I just kept quiet. And let this dog have its day. Like it does everyday in SoCal.
Read the rest of… John Y’s Musings from the Middle: Travels to SoCal
By John Y. Brown III, on Fri Oct 26, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
Warning! I now know what Hell looks like—and I am never carrying a rolled mat. It could be a sign of my future.
I recently walked in on a hot yoga class breaking up. I didn’t know what it was at the time and my mind went into overdrive, trying to figure out what these people were doing. They were stripped down as far as they could be in public, sweat was excreting from ever pore in their body, they looked pained and exhausted and dispirited and some even were moaning with exhaustion. They appeared to be part of a group exercise that morning in Hades rolling the Sisyphus stone together up a hill.
I figured they were on some sort of smoke break from Hell. Except none were smoking….and actually looked pretty healthy.
But they all carried these eerie looking rolled devices (see below). It looked like a rolled mat but apparently is for self-flagellation and required packing for the Underworld. Do not be caught carrying one of these in public! And avoid others who do!
By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Oct 25, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
The Pinterest Principle.
Want to have many interests?
Wade into the pool. And keep going.
My daughter persuaded me to join Pinterest tonight so I did. It’s a website where you select things you like —a sort of personality and style social medium.
At first because it was awkward and new, I was extremely selective and hardly “liked” anything.
But once I waded in and got comfortable with Pinterest, I started liking everything.
In fact, there was little I didn’t like!
Lesson?
Hobbies and interests aren’t a function of our curiosity or tastes or temperament. They are essentially a matter of getting comfortable in our environment.
Once that is accomplished the world becomes a friendlier place with much about it to like.
By John Y. Brown III, on Wed Oct 24, 2012 at 12:00 PM ET
Sometimes on a late work night when I stop off at Thornton’s to reward myself with something utterly non-nutritious, I sit in my car wolfing at down and watch the nice clerk inside and ask myself, “If someone robbed Thornton’s now while I was watching, would I try to help stop the robbery?
So far that question has remained a hypothetical one. And so far, I have answered “yes.”
I would come to the rescue and save the day in every hypothetical instance I have imagined—dashing out of my gray Honda Accord that went unnoticed because the robbers saw 16 others just like it driving there.
I rush inside, slide across the floor to avoid bullets (really just for effect since there are never any bullets), grab a pot of scalding hot coffee, and throw it on the would be assailants just like the scene in Fast Times at Ridgemont High.
I then call the cops, do a couple of quick live interview,s and the clerk tosses me an extra Krispy Kreme doughnut “on the house” as I turn an wave a cavalier goodbye.
It’s exhausting.
Even though it’s all hypothetical.
But heck, because the heroics are so impressive in my hypothetical, I think I am probably excused for having to do anything now in reality if a real robbery ever does take place. You know?
We’ve all heard about the KLOUT hype-mania with employers asking job applicants about their KLOUT scores and using it to decide who gets hired….but this is going too far.
Depression symptoms include:
Feelings of sadness or unhappiness
Irritability or frustration, even over small matters
Loss of interest or pleasure in normal activities
Reduced sex drive
Insomnia or excessive sleeping
Changes in appetite
Feelings of worthlessness or guilt,
Trouble thinking, concentrating, making decisions and remembering things
A lowered KLOUT score
For some people, depression symptoms are so severe that it’s obvious something isn’t right. Other people feel generally miserable or unhappy without really knowing why.
But a drop in one’s KLOUT score of 3 or more points within a few weeks is usually an unambiguous sign of major depression—or at least should be!
If you have ever heard this memorable refrain sung before, I am sorry for you….
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