Parents on social media are conditioned to talk publicly about their children in a very specific way. We showcase their accomplishments for the “she’s amazing” comments. We upload pictures of the boo-boo on their knee to hear “get better, little guy.” We share their artwork for “prodigy” feedback. There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s normal. Even if it is a little weirdly competitive. Like most parents, I’m proud of my kids too, and share our lives together often. And, sure, I…
I’ve always been a fan of George Carlin. He was smart and funny. And the reason he was so funny is because he showed us things about life that we glossed over. Things we missed. Things like, “Electricity is just organized lightning.” But part of his appeal was also stating the truth about things. Things we were too scared to consider. Especially things about living in America. As with most things Carlin, the clip below is DEFINITELY NSFW. In fact…
When he first broke onto the scene, Prince made me uncomfortable. Dude dressed in puffy blouses, wore high heels, makeup, and was named “Prince.” Who did he think he was, Bowie? I was a young man who’d just joined the USAF out of high school and was stationed in Myrtle Beach, SC. A raging fireball of hormones. A young bull. Screamingly heterosexual, my life was basically wake up, work, eat, go to bars, sleep. Prince made me uncomfortable because even though I…
We packed up the kids and dogs and headed for a cabin in the mountains outside of Blowing Rock, less than two hours away. We arrived as the sun was sinking behind the range, unpacked, and went out to dinner. As we were about to sink our teeth into a pizza, Phebe stopped us. “We need to pray,” she said. We all grabbed hands and nodded our heads to the amazement of people at nearby booths and tables. No…
In case you didn’t hear, a few weeks ago I fell unconscious 15′ from my roof without injury. I’ve never choked before. Until tonight. Woofing down a garlic knot, I was screaming at all the kids in my kitchen when it got stuck over my air pipe. I tried to cough to dislodge it. Couldn’t. Tried inhaling. Couldn’t. Panic sets in pretty fast when you can’t draw breath. My wife comes over and pats me on the back. I hear…
My first gig in advertising was working in-house for Citibank. A department they aptly named N-house. A year before, Citibank hired a copywriter-art director team from Saatchi & Saatchi out of Manhattan, and brought them down to their operations campus in Jacksonville, where the tandem headed all direct marketing correspondence for the bank, and lived like kings. It was my first experience with the idea of an in-house creative department. Nearly 20 years later I’m here to tell you that by 2020…
