By John Y. Brown III, on Fri Aug 2, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET Fight Club. Did it inspire you…but seem just a tad too much?
Now there may be a new option.
Pinch Club.
That’s right. Sort of like Fight Club but from the Ladies Tees.
 I was fascinated by the movie Fight Club which I saw for the first time about 2 years ago. No doubt many males can fall into a consumer-culture corporatized and commoditized ennui that leaves them needing something deeper and… more primitive to bring meaning to their lives.
Fighting–the punching with fists kind– would seem the natural dramatic first choice. But what it yours is a milder case? Or you are less disposed to physical violence? The option of a Pinch Club seems to accomplish the same end without all the messy and needlessly painful excesses.
Men meet late at night at an agreed upon place.
And pinch each other.
Incessantly.
Until they feel like men again.
And khaki pants are allowed.
By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Aug 1, 2013 at 3:00 PM ET  Kentucky has a constitutional oath that requires officeholders to swear they won’t fight in a duel. Yet at the same time Kentucky has the political crucible of Fancy Farm that requires candidates seeking statewide… and congressional office are required to endure each August —which at times has seemed less inviting than a duel with guns (and a few times less dangerous, too.).
It’s not bullets you fear but jeers and cheers (for your opponent) and the momentary mental lapse of twist of tongue that could be the gaffe that everyone talks about the next day. You fear humiliation on the most prized of our state’s political stages, the platform for political speeches at Fancy Farm.
Fancy farm is an amalgam of history and entertainment. Part historic and revered much like the old Chautauqua assembly and yet also part “trial by ordeal” much like the carnival game of baseball toss to cause the seated person to fall into the dunking tank. As a speaker at Fancy Farm you strive to be remembered as falling into the former category rather than into the metaphorical dunking tank. And if you succeed, you are the exception to the rule.
At 32 I was the Democratic Party’s nominee for secretary of state and slated to speak at the vaunted Fancy Farm picnic. The picnic is on a Saturday and I was staying in Paducah, Kentucky the entire week before leading up to Fancy Farm to campaign in the Western Kentucky region and prepare mentally for the big day. As the big day approached, the more nervous I got. Thursday I was barely able to eat. To make matters worse, it was my anniversary and, yes, I somehow blanked out and forgot. And didn’t remember before my wife reminded me. She had not forgotten. Fortunately, with the help of some wonderful local friends we found a romantic restaurant in Paducah to spend our 4th anniversary together. And after that romantic dinner, and the gift of a kitchen table my wife had been lobbying me to buy us for several months, and the passing of another 18 years of marriage, I almost feel like that incident is behind me now. Almost.
The next day was the other big annual event that weekend: The Democratic Party’s Bean Supper in Marshall County. It was my first visit to Marshall County since the primary and I got off to a rocky start after I announced to the large audience that it was “Great to be back in McCracken County again.” After the speech the chair of the Democratic Party, Terry McBrayer, whispered to me that I was actually in Marshall County. I asked Terry if I should get back on stage and correct myself and maybe explain it was confusing with both counties starting with the letter “M” but he suggested I just let it lie and work on getting it right next year. That was wise advice.
I also learned after my less than dazzling speech that swung for the fences and at best turned out to be a broken bat single (or arguably a forced walk) that sometimes less is more from the speaking stump. I spoke after attorney general candidate and current state auditor Ben Chandler. Ben gave a familiar and non-controversial speech that was well received, as always. I was all over the place with my speech trying to stand out. Trying to quote Shakespeare and comparing Larry Forgy to Hamlet. Afterward as we listened to others give their speech I asked Ben how I did. He smiled in the way a mentoring friend would if he were wanting to say to you, “Well, you didn’t humiliate yourself. But you came darn close a few times.” Of course, Ben was too much of a gentleman to say that and instead whispered to me, “You know, it’s not always the best strategy to try to give the most memorable speech at Fancy Farm.”
Read the rest of…
John Y. Brown, III: Fancy Farm Memories
By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Aug 1, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
Redefining being “overweight.”
When I was in college I had a “reducible hernia” in my lower left abdomen. I had a small protrusion that could be “pushed back in,” hence “reducible.” I would push it back in until I finally got the problem properly diagnosed and repaired. And I haven’t seemed to have a problem with it ever since.
Until this afternoon when I felt my stomach before playing basketball and my stomach is, well, I guess you could say it sort of protrudes. The main problem, however, is that it isn’t “reducible.” I can’t push it back in like I used to be able to do with the hernia in my youth.
This may just be a product of getting older or it may be a more dramatic tear….or something.
I can’t tell if I’m not pushing in the right place, or not pushing at the correct angle or perhaps not pushing hard enough. Whatever I do my stomach stays, more or less, slightly protruded and doesn’t appear to have anything it’s poking out of to be pushed back into.
But how is it my fault that I haven’t figured out yet how to put it–my stomach– back into its proper place. Until someone tells me otherwise, I’ve decided to conclude that I’m not really overweight but merely have a “temporarily irreducible and slightly herniated stomach” in my lower and upper abdomen on both sides.”
All I know is that this is a medical condition that isn’t a reflection of my lack of will power or discipline. And it’s probably just a minor flair up from my hernia repair 28 years ago. These repairs can’t last forever. This one is just a little more pronounced.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Oh, and don’t you dare ask me in my current medical condition to lift any heavy objects. I do remember that’s the last thing you ask someone with a small hernia (or even medium sized hernia–or larger) is to do heavy lifting —at least until they are fully recovered. ; )
By John Y. Brown III, on Wed Jul 31, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET  How to be special. And be able to prove it.
I just realized, according to a popular idiom, that are very few individuals out there who can be considered special.
How did I come to this inevitable conclusion?
Yesterday I used the phrase in describing two well known public figures I had met many years ago in my childhood as two men who, “Put their pants on one leg at a time just like the rest of us.” Therefore, my friend and I agreed that since that was the case, it was surely true that these two public personalities were “just like us” in all the important ways. That they were just normal and ordinary, after all.
But that got me to thinking, “Does that mean that everyone—every single person—who puts their pants on one leg at a time is basically an ordinary person?” I mean, that’s the whole point of the phrase, right? “He (or she) puts his (or her) pants on one leg at a time.” Ergo, they aren’t special. It’s the great equalizer. Pants putting on, that is.
In other words, anyone who puts their pants on one leg at a time instantly moves from the category of “special” (if they possess some rare talent or skill) to the category of “ordinary.”
So, how to we find truly special people? It means we should really ask–for the sake of efficiency —who DOES NOT put their pants on one leg at a time. Since that is a small group, presumably, we will quickly limit all the possible candidates for being a special person. Once we have this tiny group of people who, for whatever reason, pass the “ordinariness” threshold test by putting their pant on in some way other than one leg at a time, we are ready for the critical next step.
Of these individuals in the “non-one leg at a time pants putting on routine when getting dressed,” which ones also have some rare talent or gift? Once we identify those individuals–given we have eliminated the great equalizer test in the pants department, we will, technically speaking, have a list of the only truly “special” people in this world. Just like that!
Isn’t logic a a wonderful tool enabling us to reach correct conclusions?! It sure is!
Oh by the way, I’m trying to teach myself to put my pants on over my head like a pull over shirt. It’s slow-going so far… but I am determined. To be special, that is.
By Lauren Mayer, on Tue Jul 30, 2013 at 3:00 PM ET We’ve all struggled with trying to stop behaviors we know aren’t good for us, and I imagine most of us have some embarrassing episodes in our past. So far be it from me to cast the first stone against politicians whose foibles are played out in the glare of public awareness. None of us would want to be a candidate for office, trying to defend ourselves against a surreptitious youTube video of us telling an off-color joke (or singing karaoke badly). My younger son claims he has photos of me sneaking Reese’s out of his Halloween candy several years in a row, and let’s just say I’m glad that the internet and cell phone cameras didn’t exist that time my college roommates and I went to Martha’s Vineyard.
However, the subject seems to be different when the bad behavior is sexual, and engaged in by elected leaders. (Which should give you a clue that my Martha’s Vineyard escapade was pretty benign, and didn’t actually involve anyone important or anything worth photographing . . . . ) Part of it is often the hypocrisy factor (see Gingrich, Newt). And part of it is the “you’re kidding, right?” disbelief at how stupid some people can be (see Danger, Carlos, or all the comments about how Bill Clinton could have had just about any gorgeous liberal starlet or international political figure instead of cheating on Hilary with a frumpy, not particularly brilliant intern). But the larger concern is that these are people who are telling us to trust them, with our laws& our tax money. Therefore, when they engage in clandestine activities, it isn’t just between them and their cheated-upon partner.
So when still MORE revelations came out this week about Weiner’s continued sexting after he’d insisted he had turned over a new leaf, the general reaction was “enough already, just go away.” (I don’t know about anyone else, but that famous original grainy shot of his bulging underwear continues to give me nightmares.) But he’s not alone – Bob Filner now acknowledges that as Mayor of San Diego, he engaged in a plethora of unsavory behavior, from the now infamous “Filner headlock” which he used to express sweet nothings to his employees, to groping constituents and telling his staff they’d work better if they weren’t wearing underpants. However, he keeps insisting that these acts were just evidence of a problem he has, not actual sexual harassment. (Which begs the question, what WOULD he consider sexual harassment? I guess it’s okay as long as he didn’t insist on women giving him lap dances as a condition of keeping their jobs?) And on top of everything else, both Weiner and Filner have extremely bright, attractive wives – sort of like our horror that if Halle Berry’s husband cheated on her, the rest of us are screwed. (But I digress . . . .
Honesty is a big factor, but I have to go back to the “how stupid can you be?” question. (Like how Eliot Spitzer claims to be a brilliant fiscal manager, after shelling out thousands of dollars for overpriced hookers, not to mention the weird thing he had about keeping his socks on . . .) These are people who seek public attention, so you’d think they’d be a little more careful about their public behavior. But the unsavory details continue to emerge, and the middle-school-level jokes keep popping up (the NY Daily News is having a field day with headlines about Weiner, as one might imagine from the newspaper which once announced “headless body found in topless bar,” which is the first headline I saw when I moved to New York). Even my teenage son has seen the Weiner memes, with every possible variation on ‘pulling out’ or ‘sticking out’ you could imagine.
As a feminist, a registered Democrat and a former New Yorker, of course I hope Spitzer & Weiner withdraw from the race so voters can refocus on the important issues facing the city, and as a Californian, I hope Filner resigns once he realizes that 2 weeks of rehab may not be sufficient after years of thinking the way to reach out to a constituent is to grab her buttocks. But as a comedian, these guys are the gift that keeps on giving – I thought after last week’s song, the subject would be passe, but I guess they all could still use a little musical advice to “Zip It Up!”
By John Y. Brown III, on Tue Jul 30, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET  Imagine Paris (“That’s hot”) Hilton commenting, “That’s so luke warm.”
A middle-aged friend finalized his divorce recently and I tried my hand, feebly, at matchmaking.
In describing him to a divorcee woman I work with I tried to buikd him up to her.
She asked half-jokingly with a smirk, “So, is he hot?”
That caught me off guard and I recovered with this failed response.
“I wouldn’t say hot in the conventional sense of the word.. but a more middle aged kinda hot. Like something that you made to eat two days ago that gets heated up and you are pleasantly surpried to find it is still edible. Sooo, kind of hot but in the warmed-over sense. Which can be good. Like pizza.”
By Nancy Slotnick, on Tue Jul 30, 2013 at 8:30 AM ET My 8-year-old son wrote me the card pictured above: “Love is the best thing a family can share.” Somebody call Hallmark—I think they have a future employee. But it got me thinking- how do we share love with family? And that got me sad. Because sometimes we put our best foot forwards when we are in the company of strangers and we save the worst for family.
What kind of love do we share with family? Insults, criticism, unbridled emotion, long boring stories, unreasonable expectations.
When people say on the street: “Give me some love,” I don’t think that’s what they’re referring to.
So I’m going to respectfully disagree with my son. Or at least I’m going to ask him to clarify to what subset of the noun “love” he is referring. Luckily my boy is wicked smart so he will know what the heck I am asking.
 Ok, I conferred with my boy genius and he said that he was referring to “Fun with the family”, so that I will definitely support!
How many people can say to themselves“I had too much fun this year?” I don’t even think there is such a thing. So I will show you the Shrinky Dink charm bracelet that was my gift that went along with the card.
And, with that, I am off to go have fun on my birthday, which includes not being bogged down with blogging unless it is fun. Which this was. Off to ice skating!
And to save you Recovering Politician staffers the trouble of asking me—Yes, I did get the copyright permission from my son to reprint his card. J
By John Y. Brown III, on Mon Jul 29, 2013 at 3:00 PM ET Incredible!
Just got to view a graph of my book sales during its first week.
All I can say is that if this were a roller coaster instead of a book sales chart, it would be epic! Everyone would want to try it!
In one week the book rocke…ted (downward) from the top 11,000 books selling on Amazon.com to the top 396,865. That is about a 4000% drop. Which is something few authors can claim. And have hard data to back it up. I claim it and have the data and am sharing it now.
There are a total of 8 million books on Amazon.com. So, in theory, being ranked 496,865th isn’t as bad as it sounds.
Except that it is.
 Click here to purchase It sounds so …..um, what’s the word?….Sounds so far behind everyone else. I guess that’s what I’m saying. I mean…have you ever had to pass up 385,000 of anything to get back to where you started? At what point do you look at that blur of 385,000 somethings and say to yourself, “You know what? I’ll try to pass some. Maybe 20 or 25. But the other 384,975 or 384,980 can have it.” I think I’m about to reach that point.
Another option that I am going to suggest to Amazon.com is to re-frame how they describe rankings in my sales territory. Tomorrow I’ll probably hit, say, rank 511,150th. I’m not going to tell anyone about that when it happens. 396,865th is bad enough. But I might be tempted to brag about it if Amazon.com described the ranking instead as “You are now ranked in the bottom 7.5 million in book sales listed on Amazon.com” Something about being in the bottom 7.5 million makes a bigger statement, makes me feel part of something bigger, and doesn’t sound so darn lonely as 396,865.
By John Y. Brown III, on Fri Jul 26, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
 I waste so much time browsing in technology stores –and then not buying anything–that I am considering charging Office Depot, Staples, and Best Buy a “browsing fee” of $4.50 every half-hour I browse.
I am valuable to them even though I rarely purchase anything because I make them look busy with an extra customer.
And I bring the added benefit of occassionally seeing someone who I know and tbey may think, “I know John is a busy guy and if he is browsing today at Office Depot maybe I should find the time too.”
That is until this friend remembers seeing me last week browsing at Staples and the week before that seeing me browsing at Best Buy.
By Jonathan Miller, on Fri Jul 26, 2013 at 10:00 AM ET
|
The Recovering Politician Bookstore
|
