Newly confirmed Secretary of State John Kerry joked today that he is a “recovering politician,” relating a funny story about the occasional perils of being such a widely recognized public figure.
Watch the clip:
Are there any intellectual property lawyers who want to represent me in a lawsuit?
UPDATED: February 22, 2012
From today’s Washington Post, writes Al Kamen in an article titled, “John Kerry, a ‘recovering politician’“:
Back when he was running for president in 2003 and 2004, then- Sen. John Kerry was giving speeches ripping into President George W. Bush for spending money overseas and allowing “a preparedness gap” in terms of the fight against terrorism.
“We should not be opening firehouses in Baghdad,” he told a crowd in a Roanoke fire station Feb. 9 2004, “and shutting them in the United States of America.”
But at the University of Virginia in Charlottesville on Wednesday — about a two-hour drive from Roanoke — Kerry made a pitch for not cutting funds for foreign policy and overseas aid, noting that it’s only a bit more than 1 percent of the overall budget.
And “every embassy, every program that saves a child from dirty drinking water, or from AIDS, or reaches out to build a village, and bring America’s values, every person” comes out of that “one penny plus a bit, on a single dollar.”
So why do people criticize foreign aid spending and think it’s a quarter of the budget?
“Well, I’ll tell you,” he said, according to a State Department transcript, “It’s pretty simple. As a recovering politician (laughter) … I can tell you that nothing gets a crowd clapping faster in a lot of places than saying, “I’m going to Washington to get them to stop spending all that money over there.”
By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Feb 21, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
If next Pope is Italian, it will be the first time ever that someone of Italian descent has held all three of the most coveted and rarified job titles in the world.
1) Pope (Vatican)
2) University of KY basketball coach
3) University of Louisville basketball coach.
Both Calipari and Pitino deny interest in new post and say they are focusing on basketball for now and not interested in trying to “move up” again after NBA experiences.
By John Y. Brown III, on Wed Feb 20, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
Fraud alert
I am not a regular shopper at Whole Foods Market.
I like going there and feel better about myself when I do. But it strikes me as a sort of community among its regular shoppers—health conscious and committed to a lifestyle replete with Vegan dieters and Yoga instructors.
I just don’t feel like I fit in there and suspect they sense a fraud. Or at least a Kroger shopper who missed the turn for Kroger and is in too big a hurry to turn around.
It’s a little confusing for me and a little daunting too.
I experience the same sensation when I am at a hardware store. Just looking at my hands you can tell I have never been asked by a neighbor if they could borrow some of my tools. That would be a pointless and rude and embarrassing to me. Like asking the neighbor whose house is in foreclosure if you can borrow $20. Just a common sense thing it never occurs to anyone ever to do in any neighborhood I have ever lives in.
So bracing with my insecurities about neither being ever asked for direction to Rainbow Blossom, I confidently strode into Whole Foods Market.
So far, so good. No one seems to be whispering “Who is that man who looks like he still buys Wonder Bread and what is he doing here?”
No one asked me if I was lost and needed directions to the Taco Bell at the other end of the shopping mall.
I tried to look healthy and fit in. I mussed my hair and looked earnestly at a magazine featuring simple, austere, healthful living practices.
I noticed a lot of unhealthy and weak looking people shopping and wasn’t sure if they were here to change the way they look or if their pallid complexions were the result of too many glasses of strained carrot juice.
I picked out a low calorie dinner that I would love to have someone I know walk by and see me eating. And say, “John, I didn’t know you were into….” And I could smile –while chewing (healthy food is really easy to chew so this isn’t difficutl or rude to do—and give them an affirming nod that says “Oh yeah. I am a regular.” But not having to say it since that would be a lie.
Nobody I knew saw me and now it was time to leave.
I put a serious concentrated look on my face with just a hint of deprivation that sent the message, “I may have just eaten but I am nowhere near full. And I only pretended to enjoy those things that looked like au gratin potatoes but tasted like something that someone tried to make look like au gratin potatoes otherwise no one would ever buy them because they taste like the drained off juice from real au gratin potatoes but without the cheese or potatoes.”
In other words, I was fitting in.
Until I walked out the store exit and while standing in the alcove bent down to look at the free magazine section. After thumbing through a publication with pictures of the health food culture equivalent of really, really smart nerdy looking people. Except instead of having the excuse of having a stratospheric IQ or two PHds from MIT, they were just really fanatical about health food. And remote from me.
So I looked around to make sure no one was looking, grabbed the gigantic glossy and gaudy issue of NFocus magazine and quickly folded it under my arm and walked rapidly to my car. Hoping to escape before the Whole Foods fraud alarm went off or any of my newfound Whole Foods Market compatriots got my license plate.
By Lauren Mayer, on Tue Feb 19, 2013 at 3:00 PM ET
I just returned from chaperoning a high school trip to New York, taking 85 dance students to see shows, take class, and explore Manhattan. Granted, I was one of several chaperones so it wasn’t as arduous as it sounds, but it was still exhausting and challenging – try explaining to a huffy teen girl that “bed check” means I have to check that she’s actually in her room, so she can’t just text me that she’s going to bed. However, in general I can report that there is hope for the next generation. (My father used to worry that our generation would amount to nothing since we didn’t grow up with saxophone music, but the popularity of artists like Huey Lewis and Bruce Springsteen, with prominent sax players, reassured him. Likewise, I used to fret that the next generation was doomed because they were addicted to electronics, self-absorbed with short attention spans, and uninterested in reading the classic kids’ books I loved, but this trip convinced me they’ll be fine, based on a few observations:
– Sure, today’s teens text incessantly and have lost the ability to spell, thanks to spell-check and shorthand like ROTFLMAO, but they are also much more open-minded than we were as kids, eagerly trying new experiences and extremely tolerant of the more eccentric members of their group. (Remember, this was a trip for dance/theatre students from a large, extremely diverse public school, so we had the same types of characters you’d see on shows like Glee, as well as kids ranging from a senior who works 2 jobs to help support her family to some extremely wealthy kids who quietly put in extra money when the lunch group didn’t have enough for their table’s check.)
– Some things haven’t changed, like adolescent girls squealing and sighing over cute celebrities, but this group idolized the chorus boys from Newsies (with whom they got to take class and pose for photos), and even their less theatrically-inclined friends are more likely to worship movie starsn or singers with actual talent. (Of course, I still maintain the Monkees were talented comic actors in on the ironic joke, not just a manufactured boy band selected for their teen appeal)
– Speaking of irony, this generation gets it in a way mine never did. In fact, they have multiple layers of irony, so that they can ‘like’ everything from Hello Kitty to Justin Bieber – something about the ‘air quotes’ makes everything okay, which makes it not okay to tease their classmates for uncool tastes. (The weird girl in my 6th grade class who was obsessed with Dark Shadows, because she decided she was a vampire, would have fit in much better today!)
– Okay, they may not read Little Women or The Hobbit (since they can see the movie, duh . . . ), but they are fairly sophisticated. My 16-year-old son was on the trip – mostly with another chaperone’s group, since the organizers realized no kid in his or her right mind wants to spend a high school trip with a parent! – and he came back one day very proud of having bought two LPs in a vintage record store (records being as exotic to these kids as 78s were to us!) And several of his friends bought LPs as well. When I explained my turntable had been destroyed several moves ago and many of his friends’ parents were probably in the same boat he replied, “Oh, they’re not to play, Mom, it’s all about the aesthetics.” (I also love that the records he chose were by Rush and Frank Sinatra – how’s that for ironic fusion?)
– They are fairly tolerant of our generation’s befuddlement. The whole trip made me feel a bit like Jane Goodall researching chimpanzees, observing an entirely different species and trying to decode their communication methods – I’ve finally learned text shorthand, LOL, but I’m still not sure whether Instagram is a noun or a verb. But when I tried out their vocabulary, using ‘dope’ or ‘JK’, they didn’t laugh too loudly (at least in front of me).
– Today’s kids are a great combination of independent and needy – they found their way around and got themselves up on time, yet they weren’t afraid to call on a chaperone when they had questions or were concerned about their roommate whose boyfriend broke up with her via text. (I particularly loved seeing “The Mystery of Edwin Drood” with them, which is a highly stylized, odd musical based on English music hall theatre, including lots of characters talking to the audience and having women play male ingenue roles, a tradition begun with operas using mezzos as boys. At intermission, a group of the kids came up to me and told me they were completely confused, so when I gave them a bit of background, one of them exclaimed, “Oh, we just thought they were lesbians!” Which they actually thought was cool . . . . )
One other side note – it was wonderfully refreshing to go several days without seeing a newspaper or looking at a computer, and consequently having no idea of what was going on in the world. When I mentioned that to my husband in one of our very brief phone check-ins, he said, “Well, you heard a meteor crashed in Russia,” and I thought he was joking. Anyway, if you are a parent who is nervous about chaperoning this type of large trip, rest assured that it will be reassuring (but not very well restful), so take inspiration from these kids and go for it. However, you won’t have much time to act on that inspiration, which is why I don’t have a video to post this week. Stay tuned for next week!
By John Y. Brown III, on Tue Feb 19, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
I am a Democratic, Scotch-Irish and English; Caucasian, Presbyterian from mid-American.
I am, in other words, the Bean Soup entree on the Cracker Barrel menu. With unsweetened tea.
I don’t get the benefit of my edgy, fun or complimentary stereotypes
A Jewish friend and law partner explained to me this weekend how a client pulled him aside and said, “You people are good with numbers, right?”
He explained he was confusing Jewish for Asian stereotypes. Asians were good with numbers; Jews good with money.”
But what are Presbyterians known for? Presbyterian is cooler to pronounce than Methodist and we have a more sophisticated fashion sense than Baptists. But who talks about such trivial stereotypes for Presbyterians?
Caucasians? Who gets excited about ordering one scoop of vanilla ice cream on a sugarcane with no sprinkles ? Has any minority group ever in history tried to emulate the dress style of Caucasians. We pick the most obvious and normal manner to wear every article of clothing. It’s like we follow a set of clothing directions perfectly as we dress each morning. And the directions say in bold letters: “No improvising! You could hurt yourself and embarrass your parents. (For Caucasians only. Others disregard)
English and Scotch-Irish? Who has ever said, “I’d love an order of black beans and rice and a piping hot cup of Earl Grey tea?” Potatoes anyone? And we aren’t known for being especially good with numbers either. We had a run with Colonialism but today that is passé. Can we claim a natural gift for finger painting maybe? No? We at least have to be more interesting than Canadians. C’mon!
Mid-America is a good place to raise a family but isn’t considered an edgy place that inspires new artistic theories.
I have yet to hear someone look at a piece of art and say, “That piece has a heavy Mid-American influence.” Or “That guy is the Andy Wharhol of Kansas.” Of course, we do get credit for Mom (and Dad) Jeans.
Democrat? We aren’t described by our party to strangers as in “He’s above average height, stocky but not overweight, a big Republican.” I guess it is assumed it wasn’t a choice for us –and hence nothing noteworthy or special–and not to expect us to say anything very provocative politically. Which may explain the whole Republican idea that sexual orientation is a choice too. And why they like to talk so much about gay marriage—it is politically provocative. Democrats assume sexual orientation was inherited and pick less titillating and more mundane political subjects. Like filling potholes. Which is important but has never been a swing vote issue in a presidential campaign. And really, who wants to talk about filling potholes? OK, I do.
Which brings me back to my lament that, basically, I know deep down that when Jack Kerouac wrote “The only people for me are the mad ones . The ones who are mad to live. Mad to die. Who never sleep or say a commonplace thing….” Kerouc probably wasn’t thinking of someone like me or my ancestors.
On second thought, he probably was. And then thought of the Biblical verse about vomiting out the lukewarm. And then went on to write his famous passage.
Even spinning through my iPod and about 100 different colorful musical artists, I can only identify with one who probably “gets me.”
Paul Simon. A short little ordinary looking white guy. With a one syllable common first name and two syllable common last name.
And then I remember not even Paul Simon is as bland as me. He’s Jewish and therefore, so I hear, probably good with numbers.
By John Y. Brown III, on Mon Feb 18, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
Waiting rooms, magazine ads, and the grieving process.
It just occurred to me while thumbing through a magazine in a waiting room that I will probably never post pictures of myself on Facebook (or anywhere else for that matter) of a photo shoot of my modeling underwear in the forest.
I can’t say that I’m sad about that. Or that it ever occurred to me to ever want to do such a thing. It didn’t.
But something about closing in on 50 causes a mental shift. Instead of looking past a magazine ad I’ve seen before and thinking nothing of it, except perhaps, “I can’t believe that guy is actually posing like that. Embarrassing.”
There is a very subtle shift. Now I see the ad and say, “Geez. He’s really young. And fit. I’ll never look like that again. Heck, I never did look like that. But now it’s even worse. Not only did I never look like that….I never will. Ever. And I’ll never, ever be asked to do a photo shoot in the woods featuring my pecs.”
It’s not as dramatic as it sounds. Not really. I remind myself I never really wanted to do that anyway and that I used to roll my eyes at the ad, back when “potential” was still part of my vocabulary and could be applied to me.
And, no, I don’t want to buy the cologne being sold. I don’t hang out with 25 year olds in the forest with my shirt off. I’m not the target audience, I guess.
I shrug.
After shrugging, I turn the page.
And see the new Brad Pitt Channel ad.
And start looking for Highlights magazine to thumb through instead of the glossy grown up magazines? I’ve grieved enough for one day already.
By John Y. Brown III, on Fri Feb 15, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
Saying “no” when it is necessary is important. How you say no can be even more important.
As Mark Twain once quipped the difference between the right word and the almost right word is like the difference between lightening and a lightening bug.
His point was well taken as a maxim for literary precision.
But a similar emphasis should be placed on the manner or tone or context with which one delivers messages to others, especially messages with a negative impact. Like conveying that the answer to a request or proposal or simple question is “no.”
Simply saying the word no, may seem to be adequate for message purposes but is hardly ever sufficient for full communication purposes. It is only a partial response that ignores acknowledging the time, resources, preparation and hopefulness invested in the endeavor awaiting a final reply. And deserves more work on the responding end than a mere thumbs down.
Think of Mary Poppins; advice that a “Spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.” Good life advice with multiple applications.
The next time you say “no” to someone think of your role as being more akin to giving a eulogy to the deceased than serving as the executioner.
Unless, of course, you are in to that sort of thing. Some people secretly relish delivering harsh rejections– with an almost mild sadistic delight, But be ready to be haunted by the ghosts of bad news being explained badly (or sensitive news being explained insensitively).
The consequences of good and bad bedside manner is seen in every type of office everywhere….not just the ones inhabited by doctors and the medical profession.
So think of it this way. If good bedside manner is what distinguishes to a large degree great doctors from merely good technical doctors, couldn’t that be true in other professions too.
Good bedside manner is not something that requires a knowledge of medicine or other technical expertise. It merely requires a basic level of respect for the person or client or patron you are talking to. And the extra time to craft a sentence or two that uses both the word no and conveys the message thank you.
By John Y. Brown III, on Thu Feb 14, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
The economic way of thinking. (The Slinky Test)
There’s a sucker born every minute, PT Barnum famously said. Including the evening of June 2, 1963 (my birth date)
I saw a later version of this TV ad when I was a child of about 5. And I had to have a slinky. Had to. Watch the way it curiously flops hypnotically down a flight of stairs. Or flops itself along the declining platform.
It was the “sizzle” not the “steak” (so to speak) that mesmerized me and made me feel I had to have this shiny toy.
So I insisted and wheedled and cajoled (even though I didn’t know what those words meant at the time) until my grandmother broke down and got me one.
And here’s the genius (or cunning) of good ole American marketing. The slinky did exactly as it was represented in the ad. If flopped down the stairs. And flipped down an incline.
So I did it again. And again the slinky flopped and flipped–just as it did in the ad. I didn’t want to admit it but, frankly, I was starting to get a little bored at this juncture. So
I ran the slinky down the stairs and incline one or two more times. And then I realized, “I think I’m done with this toy. Now what?” And shortly after that the economic agony of realizing you spent (or your grandmother spent) $4 in real money for about 50c in thrills sets in.
You can keep playing with the slinky until you get in about $6 worth of play, so your grandmother will remember your wise purchase the next time you want something you see advertised on TV. Or you can do as I did. Go in the basement and pretend to play with the slinky for about $7 or $8 dollars worth of fun to impress your sweet grandmother (who also warned you about the limits of a slinky).
And don’t we do that with many new purchases?
So the test for us should NOT be, “Does the product perform as represented?” But rather, “Does what the product claim to do —for personal or practical reasons—justify the cost?”
And if the answer is no, remind yourself how many hours you’ll have to spend in the basement pretending to be playing with a slinky to preserve your ability to make your next irresistible purchase.
(Note: I know the slinky is a lot more complicated than I make it sound and an ingenious toy. But mostly for ingenious kids. I just thought it looked cool going down the stairs and failed to calculate how much that was worth to me).
By John Y. Brown III, on Wed Feb 13, 2013 at 12:00 PM ET
My kind of rebel.
A friend was making his 8 hear old daughter attend the adult worship service which is an hour long and hard for a youngster to sit through without lots of restless squirming.
To cope the plucky little girl would stand and draw on the program. My friend got her to stop drawing where people could see what she was doing but couldn’t get her to sit without being firm.
Finally, he sternly , teeth gritted, said emphatically “Sit down now, young lady!”
And she did.
But two minutes later whispered to her dad defiantly, “I am still standing up in my mind.”
