By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Dec 19, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET I just always check “I agree to all the terms and conditions” without ever actually reading the fine print of a website privacy policy.
But today I decided to try something different and read a privacy policy I was asked to agree to. In fact, I read several. It all sounded like fairly routine language and, you know, they all have almost identical language. But one section I found hidden in every privacy policy that I found gave me pause. Maybe it is standard boilerplate language but it seemed to stand out to me as somewhat concerning.
 Here it is below in a section of the privacy policy. See the portion in parenthesis.
“We do not sell or rent any part of your information to a third party without your permission unless you opt out, we may use your (Hahahaha your mother wears combat boots you stupid moron!!! Oh, and by the way, your combat-boot wearing mother can’t do anything about all the crazy ways we are gonna make bank by using your personal information even though we pretend we aren’t going to. You just signed your life away. Hahaha!!!) contact information to provide you or others with information we believe you or others may need to know or find useful, such as but not limited to…….”
By John Y. Brown III, on Wed Dec 18, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
Another brilliant business idea. Sort of.
(Think late night infomercial)
In our more mature years resolving marital disagreements can be challenging.
When couples are younger couple and one spouse (often the male spouse) finds himself in error, there are a variety of conventional methods for remediation. These can range from from taking on extra chores around the house, finally doing yard work put off for too long, visiting in-laws for the weekend, long talks processing feelings, to utilizing the pull out couch in the den over night.
But as you get older a male spouse’s energy level and physical limitations make some of these conventional remedies impractical. Yet a mistake was still made and something has to be done about it.
I propose a new product that allows perjorative things to be written on the offending spouse’s tombstone for an agreed on period of time. The product would be made with a type of disappearing ink after a set number of days, weeks, or in some cases, years depending on what the spouses agree upon is the appropriate period of time for the public humiliation punishment.
For example, a tombstone could read:
John Smith 1947- 2026
Loving husband, great father, and dear friend to many
Lazy (2011)
Inconsiderate (2013)
Assh*** (2005)
The last three rememberances could be in the disappearing ink and written out without asterisks with the year the offending behavior occurered in parenthesis. These could be recompense for punishment for mistakes made in the past but during the mature years.
The beauty part is there is no painful extra work in the yard to do right now but a satisfactory punishment is still meted out that is appropriate to the misdeed. And remains for everyone to see. At least long enough for everyone the surviving spouse wants to see it. (For example, long enough for all living friends to see but not great grand children)
And for just an extra $9.95 a month the same tombstone message can be placed on the bereavement website for your loved one.
This way, finally, there is a way for both the deceased and their surviving spouse to Rest In Peace.
By Lauren Mayer, on Wed Dec 18, 2013 at 8:30 AM ET
Last week I wrote about how Bill O’Reilly, Sarah Palin, et al were trying to stir up a frenzy over their imaginary ‘War on Christmas.’ Which at the time seemed like the height of going on the attack by trying to make oneself into a victim – but oh, ye of little faith, ye didn’t count on Megyn Kelly and ‘Santagate’.
In case you’ve been under a rock all week, a writer for Slate (an online magazine) wondered why traditional images of Santa Clause were always Caucasian, and she suggested that we consider race-free options (like a Penguin Claus – sort of like the Easter Bunny, or the Purim Hamster). This prompted Fox News anchor Megyn Kelly to trash her previous reputation for being more intelligent than her colleagues (remember her arguing with Karl Rove about the 2012 election results?), by convening a ‘panel’ to debate the issue, which as far as I could tell consisted of just one article (that hadn’t been very widely read until Kelly publicized it). She expressed her outrage that political correctness might trump truth, because it was a historical, verifiable fact that Santa is white – just like Jesus.
When critics began weighing in, Kelly immediately went on the defensive, claiming she was being attacked by race-baiting humor-less haters who didn’t get that the whole thing was tongue-in-cheek. On top of the fact that the original segment wasn’t particularly funny, one could also point to Kelly’s recent appearance on The Tonight Show, when she insisted she was a serious journalist, not an entertainer. But my biggest issue is that it’s hard to complain about being criticized when she’s the one who started criticizing in the first place.
The whole thing reminds me of sitcom fights where a younger sibling (Cindy Brady?) kicks an older one (Jan?) and when Jan retaliates, Cindy runs to mom, claiming “Jan is picking on me.” (And no, I don’t know what episode that was, it just sounds pretty plausible – plus I promised my own sons I’d stop embarrassing them by using them as examples.)
So as long as I’m in parental mode, I’d give Ms. Kelly the same advice most parents give their offspring – try to get along by putting yourself in each other’s shoes. And if you’re going to say something as silly as “Santa just IS white, it’s a historical, verifiable fact,” put yourself in the shoes of a liberally-inclined humorist and see if YOU could resist the temptation!
By John Y. Brown III, on Tue Dec 17, 2013 at 3:00 PM ET How does one say RIP to a man, Peter O’Toole, who once quipped, “I hate the light. I hate weather. Heaven for me is moving from one smoke-filled room to another?”
And to complicate matters further, O’Toole hilariously played an aristocratic delusional man who believed he was God in The Ruling Class. His doctor asks, “When did you realize you were God?” and O’Toole explains, “One day when I was praying I realized I was talking to myself.”
Today we lost, professionally, one of our greatest actors and even greater stage presences; and personally, we lost a preposterously delightful and divinely charming character’s character.
Upon hearing of Peter O’Toole’s death, I kept thinking of the story he told nearly a decade ago about what he wanted written on his tombstone.
After a trip to his dry cleaners’ to drop off his beloved leather jacket, one that he sent in “because it was covered in blood and Guinness and scotch and Cornflakes, the usual,” the jacket was returned with a note pinned on it:
“It distresses us to return work which is not perfect.”
And that’s what Peter O’Toole wants his tombstone. Maybe he’ll get his wish.
There are too many memorable video clips to pick just one. But since one is the limit for a post, this is a fitting one and they way I prefer to remember, Mr O’Toole–whose most magical role as an actor, perhaps, was simply playing himself.
(Start at about the 3:50 mark)
By John Y. Brown III, on Tue Dec 17, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET Being 50 years old gives one a lot of advantages over those young upstarts gunning for us in the rough and tumble business world.
But sometimes you try and try and try and try again.
And no matter where you are or who is around or who there is to look to for help….
And no matter how hard you keep trying as everyone around you is watching and waiting and listening and waiting some more….
You just can’t remember what you were going to say.
At least you think you can’t remember it. In fact, you can’t even remember if you forgot what you originally thought you forgot and now realize you may not have even been talking about the topic you thought you had lost your train of thought on in the first place.
It’s not so much embarrassing when that happens as it is liberating.
So, you just laugh and go along with it and finish that story just the way you feel it probably was supposed to end. Or at least possibly was supposed to end. Or hope, if it wasn’t the way it was supposed to end, no one notices. Or if they did notice, since they are about your age, maybe they will forget in about 15 minutes.
And if there are any of those young hot shots standing around looking at you and grinning knowingly like a vulture circling its prey before it breaths its final breath, stare them down with a look that says unmistakeably, “All I have to do is make one call and you’ll never work in this industry again. Got that?!”
Now….what were we talking about again?
By Jonathan Miller, on Mon Dec 16, 2013 at 1:30 PM ET If you are a fellow #upper, particularly a fan of the Steve Kornacki version of MSNBC’s “Up,” you undoubtedly have watched the best political game show on TV — “Up Against the Clock.” Typically hosted by Kornacki, the all-time leading scorer on the show had been contributing RP (and MSNBC “The Cycle” co-host) Krystal Ball.
Well, this week. Krystal guest hosted for Steve, and the game show featured new contestant, and fellow contributing RP, Jeff Smith. And who’d have thunk it, but Jeff emerged as the Greatest Of All Time Up Against the Clock contestant. Watch him stumble over a Judd Gregg question, and then make a miraculous recovery to claim the all-time championship:
By John Y. Brown III, on Mon Dec 16, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET How close to happiness?
Today I am just 23 pounds, $300,000, one more college degree, a new room created upstairs from the unused space in the attic, one deluxe car wash, one spring cleaning of my closet (this fall), two car payments, a new cream for my adult eczema, one tuition payment, one mini-marathon, a year of Yoga classes, 3 years of missed time with my daughter and son and wife, a full physical check up, a new dentist, 35 emails, 12 voice mail messages, 3 weekend couple invitations for dinner, 4 meetings for coffee, one meeting for lunch, one really good night’s sleep, a contribution to my IRA, de-duplicating software tool for my contacts on Outlook, one new iPad Air, 4 conference calls, 3 new clients, getting alterations done on the new blue blazer I bought 8 months ago, one gas tank fill-up, some new stationary with my name on it for thank you notes, and one cup of coffee away from true happiness.
So close….
Almost as close as this time last year….
By John Y. Brown III, on Fri Dec 13, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET  Whenever I have to wear a tuxedo, like tonight, I get slightly depressed. Not because of the tuxedo itself but because while dressing I inevitably think of a penguin. Not just any penguin or even a normal penguin but The Penguin, the villian played by Burgess Meredith in the original Batman series. The campy one that everyone seemed to know was campy except me. And that I now realize wasn’t as exciting or thrilling as I thought it was when I watched the series as a boy. And that is depressing.
And thinking of Burgess Meredith playing The Penguin reminds me of the first time I saw the movie Rocky (Rocky I) and how I couldn’t believe Rocky’s hardened streetwise trainer, Mick, used to play a villianous bird in a campy TV series. It made me think less of the movie Rocky. (They should have let the guy who plays Paulie be the trainer. He was never a campy Batman villian and, frankly, added little to the movie playing Rocky’s brother-in-law.) And the fact that Rocky I wasnt as good as it could have been is a little depressing.
But then I am reminded of Burgess Meredith’s early work as the bookworm banker in Rod Serling’s Twilight Zone episode “Time Enough at Last” and then wonder of Rod Serling thought less of this famous episode because Burgess Meredith later would famously play an evil Penguin in a campy TV series that Rod Serling and everyone else knew was campy at the time.
And then I try to remember if Rod Serling would do his Twilight Zone monologues in a tuxedo or just a sharp looking dark suit. I always conclude it was the later and that is a good thing since he is probably already disappointed about Burgess Meredith’s Batman role and didn’t have to be reminded of it everytime he watched a Twilight Zone rerun. That is uplifting to think about. Until I am reminded that Rod Serling died at a young age before his time and I am more depressed than before the uplifting thought about Rod Serling.
There is just no way around it. Wearing a tuxedo is enough to make any guy sad and deprrssed just thinking about all the ramifications that come to mind.
===
Why I am not wearing a tie to my afternoon meeting today.
I always keep a sports jacket or two and a tie in my backseat for when I need them for a “jacket and tie” meeting. I don’t like to overdress if I don’t have to but don’t want to be underdressed either. My plan seems to work well most days.
But today I realized while on my way to a “jacket and tie” meeting I had on a plaid button down shirt that would not work with a tie and needed—quickly needed—a plain colored button down shirt. Sometimes I can get by with just a jacket but this one seemed to require a jacket and a tie.
Fortunately, I was about to drive by Jos A Banks and pulled in quickly and parked. But then my mind began to run through what was almost sure to happen.
I would run inside with 6 minutes to spare to purchase a single plain colored button down shirt. I would find my size and the shirt and take it to the counter and hear.
“Hello. What is your name and address? Do you know we are having a sale for “Buy one, get two free for dress shirts?”
I would then, obviously, take advantage of the sale since I would be giving up two free shirts if I insisted on just buying the one. I would now have 2 minutes to go and explain
I am in a hurry and just need the shirt for a meeting and have the jacket and tie in the car where I keep them for occasions like this.
“You know, if you need a tie with that because the one in the car is wrinkled, we are having the same “Buy one, get two” free for neckties or you can “buy one necktie and get any sports coat for half off. I noticed you eyeing the grey plaid sports jacket when you came in.”
“Really?” I would say. “Do you have it in a size 43 R?”
“Yes,” the sale clerk would say and “I have a really smart looking tie for it, too.”
And then, of course, there would be a slacks offering if I buy a shirt tie and jacket where
I could get two for the price of one. And before leaving I would need a pair of shoes for my new outfit too.
So, instead, I’m just going to this meeting today without a tie on. Just a sport jacket.
Because Jos A Banks wouldn’t let me just by a single darned single color plain button down shirt!
By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Dec 12, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
Last night before going to bed I saw a pile of bills my wife had neatly organized for me–totaling $8,100. Maybe that was the impetus for my dream last night.
As I was coming out of the men’s room in a corporation I don’t work for but was just part of my dream, someone tossed me a brick of $100 dollar bills. I couldn’t tell if they were robbing the office or were drug dealers. But after the first brick I somehow got 5 or 6 more as the robbers or drug dealers (remember, it’s a dream and not logical) left the premises.
I couldn’t believe my good fortune. I counted the money and it was about $1,190,000. I counted it several times. And several more times after that.
I found a friend—interestingly one who is not the most upright but a friend I felt I could trust— and asked what I should do. He thought I should definitely keep it. And give some to him to help me keep it under wraps.
I thought about it and prayed about it (very short prayers, I might add) and decided to keep the money for a second day to think and pray about some more. I just couldn’t be myself and was all jammed up feeling guilty and secretive and decided after about 48 hours to turn in the money –all of it—to the authorities.
This was tricky because so much time (48 hours) had lapsed. I was going to pretend like the money was dropped off in my office at the corporation I don’t really work at but did in this dream and that I just didn’t notice the money for 2 days. But that didn’t seem plausible.So I just pretended like I had missed work one day –the day the million dollars was dropped off in my office—but did notice the over $1M left in my office the next day when I returned to work. That seemed somewhat plausible. Unlike the coworkers in my dream I notice things lime 6 bricks of $100 bills left lying around. Mostly, I just wanted to turn in the darned money and be done with it so I could feel better about myself again.
And maybe I’d get a reward like television. Who knows, maybe 10% or even $10,000. Even if it were the latter it would cover all my bills waiting for me in the hallway.
I turned in the money and felt like the weight of the world (or at least as much as $1,190,000 weighs in $100 bills) had been lifted from me. I was relieved and myself again. And got no reward whatsoever. That only happens on TV not in dreams.
And then the alarm went off. And I got up and sauntered into the kitchen to get a bowl of cereal and saw the pile of $8,100 in bills my wife had neatly organized for me the night before. And I was grateful I didn’t have the money to pay them just yet but I did have a clear conscience and would eventually get them paid.
And that feeling was easily worth a million bucks. Actually more than $1,190,000 to be precise.
By John Y. Brown III, on Wed Dec 11, 2013 at 3:00 PM ET
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