Mile Nerd

The Bonds We Make

Somehow, we’ve already reached the last post of the year.

How did this happen?

Did someone click a fast-forward button?

Is there a Karen available to write a strongly worded letter to time? Something like:

Dear Time:

So…uh, what’s your deal, anyway? Chill out! Or I’ll need to speak to a manager.

On a similar note – we’ve now reached five years since I retired MileNerd.

Total insanity.  

I can’t believe so much time has passed. But we always say that about the years flying by, don’t we? The same phrase over and over again – “I can’t believe it.”

Maybe we should start believing.

The years keep zooming and it appears that nothing…not even someone named Karen…can slow them down.

So, with such limited time, why do I do this every month? For 5 years now. After almost a decade of daily MileNerd posts. Maybe some of you have wondered this. Why sit down and write these stories for strangers? What is the point of opening up this way every month?

It’s a very simple answer…

To connect with you.

There’s literally no other reason to do this. No money being earned. No goal of someone noticing my talent and whisking me away to write a novel. And we’re 5 years past any deal talk. But the thing is…we’re connected here – in a way that I can feel. Sure, I’ve never seen most of your faces. You’ve probably never seen mine. And I doubt I could recite 10 facts about you. Maybe not one. But this feels like a connection…and it feels like that matters. Why? Because I’m a lunatic? It’s possible. Or maybe the act of opening up my heart and touching yours allows us to feel a little less lonely in some way. Look back at your life. Isn’t that what’s behind a lot of what you do? Same here. Because what would any of this journey be without the connecting?

So, yeah, doing this still feels good. And I don’t need to see your face to believe that we are connected in some way.

For the last post of the year, I’d like to share an experience that happened a few weeks ago…

As you know, game shows have been an ongoing adventure for me. A fun “side hustle” since my college days. Over the years, I’ve won a car, trips, cash, an espresso machine, knives, kitchenware, a bed, a desk, and more. I’ve also lost cars. And even helped a young girl win an Audi. The appeal of game shows is obvious. At least to those of us with “deal brains.” It’s wildly exciting. Show up empty-handed in the morning and maybe end the day with a new car. This is something I try to attempt whenever possible. If the calendar says I’ve waited the required amount of time…I’m always willing to play again. To continue this ongoing adventure.

Which brings us to November 7th…

I’d just returned from New Orleans the night before. Arriving home after midnight. Wiped out after an action-packed weekend.

(Editor’s note: A late flight followed by an early morning game show appointment = a doozy. Best to be armed with copious amounts of caffeine. Plus a syringe to inject it straight into the bloodstream)

Now, let’s be clear about this…

Is winning a car an exceptional amount of fun? Absolutely. So, yeah, an exhausting day is fine. Who am I to not show up? To not be willing to invest a few hours in this pursuit? Oh, and I could become the first person to win a car on multiple game shows. As far as I know, it has never happened. So, let’s do this.

(Those were my “good” thoughts)

Valid.

Logical.

But, man, was I exhausted. Home after midnight and awake before sunrise. Standing in line with a bunch of very boisterous people. Come on, guys. Pace yourself. We have a long day ahead.

After slowly working my way through the line and into the waiting area…I filled out paperwork. Then waited. Took pictures. Waited more. And then began a mission to find the coffee. I realized something in the midst of all this. There’s zero excitement left in me when it comes to the game show experience. I’m truly just there for the car. A crackhead gambler who can’t stop rolling the dice.

(In case you’re wondering, I didn’t win anything this particular day. Had $4,000 in my hand at one point that I ended up losing while going for the bigger prize. Because…crackhead. Just there for the car. Not four grand. First time I remember leaving a game show empty-handed)

But I did experience something that day.

And it was far more valuable than prizes or money…

I noticed a guy right away in the waiting room. In the way that strangers can sometimes catch our attention in a crowd. His name was Nick. And he lives in Mariposa. A town of 1,000 people right at the entrance of Yosemite. No traffic lights or chain stores. A Burger King did open there once and the locals weren’t exactly thrilled about it. There was such positive energy coming from this guy. Unlike many of the people around him who were trying to “act” like the life of the party. He was actually that. Cracking lots of jokes and having a great time. Just so genuinely happy to be there. But I also noticed him wincing and sitting down every so often. Probably from lifting weights or playing sports. Who knows. And, for whatever reason, he seemed to be drawn in by me too. Just kind of how it goes with people. Random little things get us talking to random strangers. No telling where those conversations might go. Nick talked about Mariposa and how different it is from the big city. He spoke about his wife and 3 kids. His eyes lighting up while he talked about them. What a special thing that is for kids to have from their dad. It’s a feeling I longed to know when I was their age. Hopefully one day they’ll understand what a gift it was to have in their young lives.

Nick really wanted to say his kids’ names on the show. He repeated that goal multiple times. With his boundless enthusiasm. I asked what he hoped to win. His ideal prize was a trip – maybe somewhere exotic. He mentioned Turks and Caicos. Also Thailand. When I asked a question about his kids, he began to cry. This came totally out of nowhere. The guy was in such a happy mood other than his occasional wincing. Those tears were such a surprise…

And then he told me about his cancer.

It’s in his liver. Stage 4.

Terminal.

What do you say in a moment like that? Hard to get too much out with a lump in your throat. But I certainly didn’t want to ask how long he had to live. I did find out later (from his sister) that it’s 3 months or so. One of my first thoughts was that he wouldn’t even receive the trip in time to be able to go on it. So strange how our brains work. A kind-hearted father with 3 months to live – and I’m thinking about him not being able to take a trip. The whole thing was heartbreaking. Such a kind man with this big capacity for joy. The type of person who should be alive. Who seems to know how to do it right. But I guess there’s no should. Only what is. And, in this reality, his cancer started in another part of his body and then just kept spreading. They tried everything. I gathered most of this information from his sister.

What was she like?

Man, it was just full-on brother/sister vibes. Constant clowning. Nonstop teasing. You could see exactly how they were as kids together. And I guess that’s how it goes with siblings. You hold on to that same dynamic. No other relationship in the world quite like it. But she also kept checking on him. In subtle ways as to not take away from the fun. I asked her what she wanted to win. Was it a trip? A car? Something else?

She whispered, “Just for him to have a great day.”

Made sure he was out of earshot.

And then right back to busting balls.

I’m so jaded about game shows that I’d been chugging coffee just to get my energy up. To have the necessary pump when needed. I was there for a car. But these two? They showed up for something else. See, he’s a big fan of the show. Knows all the games. And there are a few things he wants to do with his remaining days. This was on the bucket list.

For me, the day started as nothing more than attempt number 6 to win some new wheels. But it felt like a very special occasion for him. And his enthusiasm was contagious. It didn’t take long for me to be rooting for the guy to have a great day too. By the third hour of waiting, a few others in the room knew his story. Word had spread. Strangers now becoming friends. Not because he’s dying. But because of how he’s living. That appetite for life. And all of the joy he was spreading in the room. Both siblings are pretty successful in their professional lives. This was about getting to play on his favorite show, not about the prize itself.

Those two were there to soak in the moment.

To share the day together.

Me? Just a crackhead gambler showing up for a car at first. But now this was about something else. We finally went into the studio around noon. After hours of conversations since we’d arrived at 7:00. I really got to know the guy. And have thought of him many times in the weeks since. They placed everyone in groups of 3 in the studio. A very specific seating order to know who to call down, where those people are located, and so on. Nick, his sister, and I were placed together. Our own little gang. And what a gift it was to watch them during the taping. Not like some Hallmark movie where a brother and sister are tame with each other. It was constant ribbing, laughing, and mocking. They were having an absolute blast. But there was no way to miss what was happening behind their eyes. They both knew this was a special occasion. Something precious to hold onto. The clock is ticking fast. Without the luxury of thinking, “I can’t believe it.”

They have to believe it. But what do you actually do in a situation like that? When there’s no time to waste? You still have to live out those hours. Nobody’s goal is to spend 3 months in the fetal position. So there they were. Busting balls. Laughing. With the occasional cry. Only from him, though. Her eyes welled up a few times – but she was there to make sure he had a great day. And to have that for herself too. She was there to share this with him. Standing with her brother as he crossed an item off his bucket list.

By then, I was part of this little gang. Inside a nonstop montage of chatting, laughing, cheering, and dancing. High-fives and hugs. With some wincing along the way. Nick did win his trip. To the place I’d just returned from 12 hours earlier. New Orleans. As you can imagine, I gave him a long list of food recommendations. With the understanding that he probably won’t be alive to take that trip. He knew it and I knew it.  But we still had the conversation as if it could happen. Nick and his sister were the only people that day who got to play a game together as a team. Pretty sure that wasn’t an accident. Each sibling gave me a bear hug as we said goodbye. Nick has my number and knows I’ll try to find him a good deal to Thailand if he wants to go. But I’m not sure that trip will happen. I think maybe this day was the trip. Much more about winning on his favorite show than taking an exotic vacation. I can’t imagine I’ll ever see them again, but I won’t forget the day we shared.

And all that I witnessed.

I’ve tried to win a car 6 times on game shows since I was a college kid. Was lucky enough to do it once. Plus a bunch of other prizes along the way. But I feel like I was able to be around something truly special this day. We’re all running out of time like Nick is. The hourglass emptying. We just don’t know when it’ll be. So, what do we do? I think maybe we all just try our best to figure it out, right? Getting as much crossed off from our bucket lists as we can. And if we’re lucky enough to have people we love on this journey? We try to share some special moments with them. To feel what it is to connect. Because, without that, what’s the point of any of this?

We live in an increasingly disconnected world. I think that probably scares me. And maybe it scares you too. So, together, let’s remember how important it is to reach out to people. To keep our hearts open. And to let others in.

I wish you a very happy holiday season, my friends.

A perfect time of year to connect with those around you.

Lucy Land

I agreed to watch my sister’s dog for the weekend.

That feels worthy of writing a live diary.

Thursday

Could Lucy be the sweetest creature on this planet? Possibly. She is, essentially, a 9-pound ball of love. Bouncing around with turbo-powered joy. Her playfulness dial cranked up to the max.

As we speak, she’s literally squealing with excitement to be here. I’m talking actual squeals. This fuzzy weirdo doesn’t even mind when I grab a steak bone out of her mouth. What kind of dog is cool with that? She just follows me around (practically skipping) like:

“What’s our next adventure, super cool human???”

Her current status?
Running from room to room as if she won the lottery. Just bolting in, spinning around in a circle, and then racing to the next room.  

(She’s been doing this for the last 15 minutes)

Not exactly sure what this place represents to her. She naps like a normal dog everywhere else. Sleeps through the night at home. But the second she walks through this door…

It’s spring break ’97. Daytona Beach style.

I don’t think animals know about frat parties. But, man, this sure does feel like she’s planning on a weekend-long rager.

Nah.

Probably just my imagination.

Thursday afternoon

Since we last spoke, I ordered a venti cold brew from Starbucks.

(A lot of caffeine for someone who doesn’t drink coffee)

Well, it’s doing nothing.

Lucy is getting the better of me.

Picture a sloth. Then imagine it with a hangover. Now shoot it with a tranquilizer gun.

That’s me.

Would continue writing but Lucy is chewing on my feet.

(This is apparently the greatest game in the history of Daytona Beach)

My watch says today is still Thursday.

That can’t be right.

Just googled, “Does Starbucks have a beverage stronger than cold brew?”

Maybe my watch is broken.

Friday

There’s a question on my mind this morning…

Do all living creatures require sleep?

My life experience says yes. But I’m wondering if there are exceptions…

She stared through the glass door all night long. A very happy predator. Looking into total darkness.

Desperate for a return to Disneyland.

(Also known as the backyard)

All night long.

Gazing out. Hoping for any possible sighting of a bird or squirrel. Impossible since all of them were SLEEPING LIKE NORMAL CREATURES. But no amount of darkness would squash her enthusiasm. Tail wags for hours. Little growls of excitement. Like a miniature Corvette revving up.

Maybe the first all-nighter in the history of canines.

A pair of lightning-quick power naps and that’s it.

Eagerly waiting for sunrise.

For the Disneyland gates to open once again.   

You’re probably wondering something. And it’s a fair question. Why didn’t I just escape to the bedroom? Oh, I tried. But she grabbed her mini tennis ball and stood right in the doorway. Like a tiny, furry linebacker. Tail wagging. Eyes dancing with excitement. Rolling over with such joy that I had no choice but to play with her.

Spoiler alert:
Sleeping on couches = not awesome.

Unsure what time it is now.

Maybe early afternoon.

Never mind.

It’s 8:30 AM.

Planning to buy another venti cold brew. But might as well chug a nice, tall glass of air. No longer just punch drunk. This is something new. Feels like an acid trip. What does LSD stand for, anyway? And, since we’re on the subject, why the hell do we say venti? Was there a secret meeting where the powers-that-be decided to pretend it isn’t strange? A joke on the general population. Who no longer walk up there and order a large coffee. Nope. We accept the lunacy. While they laugh at the rest of us. The sheep who continue dancing this strange venti dance.

(It appears that my sleep deprivation has caused some mood swings)

My mind has twisted like a food court pretzel.

Anyway, time to head back out there. I’m being summoned. To throw a mini nerf football from one end of the yard to the other. She’ll chase it around endlessly like a crackhead who spotted a bag of white powder. I’ll keep throwing. Sipping my venti cold brew. Drifting slowly into insanity.

Friday night

Lucy is currently outside chasing a moth.

(She’s been doing this for over 30 minutes now)

Not sure how to articulate her excitement level for this moth.

But I’ll try…

Imagine a big game hunter who walks outside and sees a dinosaur.

Saturday

Time to question some life decisions.

Namely, how did I agree to this? What on earth was I thinking?

Trying to be a good brother, I guess. But, really, what’s wrong with being an average brother? Or even a subpar one? Life would still go on. People (including me) would still get to sleep at night. Sure, maybe I won’t be the Michael Jordan of siblings. But it’s time to lower some goals. Maybe just shoot for “non-embarrassment” in the brother rankings.   

So, how did last night go? Gather around as I share my brilliant strategy.

Let’s call it a master plan:

Step 1 – Run Lucy around for hours.
Step 2 – Get her exhausted.
Step 3 – Pick her up very gently and put her in a dark room to fall asleep.
Step 4 – Tiptoe away en route to a night of rejuvenating slumber.

The plan was more than just smart. It was brilliant.

(In theory, that is)

In reality? This dog knows how to knock on doors. No clue how that’s possible since she has no hands. I’m guessing she used her face. And rammed over and over again. Luckily, I’m a rock. The one who withstood that avalanche of pressure. But then she discovered the doorstop. Playing that spring like an electric guitar all night long.

(She is, apparently, the Eddie Van Halen of doorstop musicians)

Yada yada yada, I finally let her out of prison. Also known as the comfortable room equipped with a plush dog bed.

The door opened. That little criminal stumbled to me ACTING like she slept all night. As if I hadn’t just listened to hours of her concert. Come on, man. I HEARD YOU. As soon as she gets around me, she prances away with a twinkle in her eyes. No longer playing the role of normal animal who sleeps through the night. Free once again. To hunt birds and squirrels with the energy of Britney Spears in an Instagram video.  

Merryl Streep would have gasped at this dog’s performance. 

And then would have handed her an Oscar.

Saying, “You deserve this more than I do.”

(On another note, I’m thinking about skipping cold brew today and just moving on to heroin)

Lucy is currently digging a giant hole to China.

She’s now rolling around with glee in said China hole.

It’s a full-on party up in here.

I think my hallucination stage has begun.

Saturday middle of the night

Inquiring minds want to know:

What happened post-China hole?

She storms in like it’s the Battle of Gettysburg. Spotting something even more exciting than a hole. It’s her gross, year-old blue and purple mini tennis ball. Also known as the greatest toy ever made.

We played with this ball until I developed carpal tunnel syndrome.

Surgery is likely needed.

Then I tried to put her in jail/the very comfortable room.

Not sure if her ensuing sounds would be better described as:
A) Soap opera actress, or
B) Prisoner of war.

But, yes, we are again on the couch. It is deep into the night. She discovered a genius idea that was, of course, much smarter than mine…

She’s sitting on me so I can’t move.

Not sure what day this is.

Time is a foreign concept that no longer applies.

I float through the atmosphere of another dimension.

Seeing nothing but visions of doorstops and mini tennis balls floating through the sky.

Sunday

No idea why I thought it was wise to give her a bath this morning.

After all, rock stars don’t take baths.

When I finally intercepted her light-speed escape, I tried to towel her off.

That towel? It’s now the best toy in the history of modern society.

(Overtaking the old blue and purple tennis ball)

Sunday night

Staring into space.

Into the abyss.

Trying to locate the strength.

This is the situation when you party all day and rage all night. The current reality for young Lucy at this point. She has finally, against all odds, hit the wall.

Victory is mine.

I finally get to witness her falling asleep.

(Editor’s note: It turned out that I was not the hero of this tale. My sister arrived just in time to rescue Lucy from defeat)

Where does that leave me, you ask?

Well, it’s time for this guy to hibernate for the next 10 hours or so.

Monday very early morning

Can’t sleep.

I miss the dog.

Cardboard, Not Concrete

I’m running very late.

There’s a tight 15-minute window that I’m about to miss.

A wedding?

Graduation?

Emergency surgery?

Nope.

I’m at the mall to pick up a new iPhone.

(According to this email, I need to arrive precisely between 10:15 and 10:30)

Yeah, ok.

How busy can an Apple Store be?

I turn the corner, walk past the intoxicating aroma of Cinnabon, and catch a glimpse of my destination. The long line stops me in my tracks.

Wait, it’s STILL like this?

15 generations into these phones?

This is not the most advanced technology in the world. Not even the most powerful smartphone available. But, holy shit, think of the impact of this device.

We get so used to everything, don’t we? No matter what it is. Just becomes par for the course. But sometimes your heart feels like sounding an alarm. Tapping your brain on its shoulder. Saying, “Forget the mental routine of this. Actually let it in. Really look around.”

So, I listen to my brain tap.

I stare at the long line again. But, this time, with the appropriate sense of awe.

Forgetting for a moment how “normal” it is to see people with iPhones in 2023. Instead, I consider what this actually is. And what it actually was. How all of this started from a dude tinkering away in his garage. Much like those kids in school who seemed to always be messing with their circuit boards. We learned over time to think of Steve Jobs as STEVE JOBS. But he was just a guy named Steve. Someone who pitched weird ideas and heard:

“Why would regular people want a computer?”

Years later, all of us are impacted. Using words like “Facetime” and “iMessage” as common parts of our daily vocabulary. Words that could have sounded like complete gibberish. If a guy named Steve was more of a follower.

Man, the impact…

Even how millions of us look down every day and automatically know what the color blue means in our text messages.

How many times did people say he should stop tinkering?  

And how many of us would have listened?  

Suddenly, I notice the large number of people in line wearing Air Jordans. Almost like it’s part of their uniform. Were these young guys even alive to watch him play? I start doing the quick math in my head…

Ok, Michael retired from the Bulls in…wait…1998?

My heart gives another tap to the ol’ brain…

Forget the mental routine of being used to this.

So, basically, nobody under the age of 35 has a memory of watching his career. And yet they’re touched by it. Lacing up their “Jordans” each morning.

I push through the cobwebs in my head.

Taking it all in.

That Jordan is, in fact, a name. Of a high schooler who was cut from his varsity squad. A kid named Mike who worked his butt off all summer to improve. Less recruited than someone named Buzz Peterson in his college class.

And now this level of impact.

All these years later.

Not a mall in America we could walk through without seeing people wear his name.

Another tap on the brain…

Have you ever considered how absurd it is to tell someone their dreams are unrealistic?

And how absurd it is to believe that about yourself?

But, every day, we pass our limitations on to others. They do the same to us. Not intentionally, of course. Just a game of tag. An endless circle of projection. As we build mental ceilings for each other. Over time, they keep getting lower and lower.

Until we learn to stop paying attention to our dreams.

Programmed to believe these ceilings are real.

While we walk through malls, buying sneakers and phones, forgetting to look at the limitless possibility all around us.

And within us.

It’s easier to build safe little boxes for ourselves. To live in them. To forget that great possibilities existed for us. And still do. Things can change in such big ways. But something inside wants us to forget that. Because it’s more comfortable within the safety of our limits.

Within our mental routines.

Within the boxes we have built.

How To Be A Real Man

We hear so much debate about what it means to be a man these days. Such a complex question. In extremely confusing times. So, let’s uncover the answers. I recently surveyed hundreds of women and feel proud to share such valuable information below.

How to be a real man.  

Let’s talk about it…

1 – Knowledge is power.
Are women attracted to simpletons? Of course not. They respond to intelligence. And you should have plenty to offer. Who’s worldly and wise? You are.

Is it necessary to make up a few facts along the way? Absolutely. But we all do that. Think of an encyclopedia with arms and legs. That’s how you should see yourself. Because, more than anything, women love an expert on all subjects.

Does she really need a warm shoulder to cry on? Or someone to vent to after a hard week? Please. What she wants is a list of detailed answers on what to do. Day after day.

Looking into your eyes, she should think, “You just know everything, don’t you?”

Yes.

Yes, you do.

2 – Don’t be creepy.
Consider this…

Women get ogled for years. Often objectified. In a way that you’ve never experienced. Really imagine being stared at by leering weirdos. It’s gross, right? Well, that’s the behavior of your competition. As a real man, your job is to put her at ease when she gets home. Providing relief from all the creepiness of the world.

It’s a simple solution…

Be better than your peers.

The last thing you want to resemble is one of those staring, glaring cavemen. But how do you set yourself apart? Quite easily. By avoiding eye contact as much as possible. It’s the exact opposite of staring. When she’s speaking to you, find an object on the wall to look at. It could be a painting or even just a cobweb. And, when all else fails, focus your gaze on a ballgame or whatever’s happening on television.

Stay conscious of all the slack-jawed leering she deals with in the world.

And be the solution.  

3 – Consider her sensory needs.
Women are wonderfully sensitive creatures. Deeply in touch with all 5 senses in a way that, say, Bob the local mechanic is not. And it’s part of what attracts you. Think about it – do you really want to date a Bob type?

So, ask yourself this question…

How often do you think of a woman’s sensory needs?
(And, no, pervert…we’re not just talking about the sense of touch)

Take her sense of smell, for example. Sure, with you, it’s just a matter of rubbing a bar of Irish Spring on yourself and calling it a day. But now consider all the pleasant smells she cares about. I assume you’ve noticed the way women love perfume and candles, right? See, it’s not enough to be an expert on every subject in the world. You should also want to make her smile as she enters a room. It should feel like a treat to her senses. So, here’s a simple hack to remember:

-A little cologne is good.
-A ton of cologne is better.

Does she smell you in the car whether you’re there or not?
Do her eyes water when you make sudden movements?

(The answer to both questions should be a resounding yes)

Those tears you’ll see? They’re called tears of joy. Because she has a real man who is sensitive to her needs.

4 – Develop your sense of humor.
More than anything, women love to laugh. They respond warmly to men with comedic ability. Luckily, this is very easy…

No need to worry. You don’t even need original material. Just imitate the most charming characters in movie history. Top examples include:
-Jim Carrey from Dumb and Dumber
-Adam Sandler from Billy Madison

You should mimic their dialogue throughout the day. And remember that comedy is about surprises. Be courageous. Blurt out clever one-liners at unexpected times. Things like, “That’s what she said” or “How you doin’.”

This level of gusto will be deeply appreciated. Especially after she’s had a long day and looks tired. And don’t be afraid to take things old school. Very few people are willing to be the guy who shouts “DY-NO-MITE” at random times. But that’s what real men do. In the darkness of a movie theater. Or while a waiter presents a list of nightly specials.

Keep things fun and fresh.

Share the priceless gift of laughter.

5 – Be complimentary.
Amid the day-to-day grind, it’s very easy to forget. But people aren’t mind readers. You can think the world of her, but if you don’t verbalize it, she may never know. And who among us doesn’t love to be complimented? So, give what you wish to receive. Express kindness on a regular basis. Just make sure to avoid doing it in a creepy way. No need to overthink it. Just say the exact same things you’d express to one of your male friends.

For example:
-You’re killing it at the gym. Nice work, dude. You’re bulking up like crazy.
or
-Man, you still look pretty good for your age, dog.

Kindness is the key to a woman’s heart.

Inside of you lives a poet just waiting to get out.

6 – Embrace your feminine side.
Let’s face it. You could probably lower your defenses a little more. Am I right? There’s just no reason to act so hard all the time. Aren’t you getting tired of it? Because one thing’s for sure…

Real men are willing to soften.

That allows them to make friends, find love, and let people in. The concept of being a tough guy is antiquated. What requires far more courage is to be vulnerable. I’m sure you’ve heard the popular term right now:
“Toxic masculinity.”

So, why not put all that aside? Let yourself cry at a movie. Sing along with a catchy Britney Spears song. And come up with a cute, non-threatening name for your penis. Maybe refer to it as “Suzanne” or “Jennifer.”

A little spoiler alert from this game called life:
Nothing says real man like naming your genitalia “Alice.”

7 – Be a man of mystery.
It’s very important to shake up your stale routines. Is anything more attractive than someone who keeps things interesting? A real man is unpredictable. And that adventurous spirit is achievable without much effort. No need to climb mountains or even leave your home. Plenty of unpredictability can be found within your four walls. For example…

Change the channel frequently. This creates a sense of excitement. One in which there seems to be no rhyme or reason at all. You should also use a dozen different water glasses per day. Why do you do that? Nobody knows. Not even you. But it adds to your mysterious nature.

On a regular basis, she should look at an empty container you’ve put back in the pantry and wonder:
“What on earth is he doing?”

Being a man of mystery, that’s what.  

8 – Deepen friendships.
Far too much of the focus between men and women is on sex. But what about friendship? It’s something that real men care deeply about. Sure, we all think of ourselves as “givers.” But true givers always look to do more. And nothing touches the heart of a woman more than a guy who gets along with her friends. So, take the initiative…

-Really engage with her close friends.
-Send them “Happy Birthday” gifs that show you remember their big day.
-Pick up the phone if they seem lonely. Ask questions that reflect your curiosity.
(Like how work is going. Or what they’re wearing)
-Continue deepening these connections. Not just in group hangouts. Really invest in quality one-on-one time. Make an evening out of it. Bring a nice bottle of wine. And maybe some flowers.

These are just a few of the gestures that real men are willing to make. But do it all quietly. Because nobody likes a braggart. Remember, this isn’t to receive credit. A real man is a giver. And sharing yourself with others is what you’re all about.

Strike Q & A

Two differences this month:
-First, I’ll be linking to more pages than usual. Because of the nature of this topic.
-Second, the format is an imaginary Q & A with a guy who is always full of “bad takes.” You know the type.

Here we go…

10 questions from “bad take guy” about the Hollywood strikes

1 – What’s the deal with this? A bunch of rich celebrity actors and writers being greedy?

Just…no.

Don’t strain your brain. While I’m sure it’s entertaining to go through life listening to the craziest 1% of our population…

-Elvis isn’t alive.
-The Easter Bunny isn’t real.
-And the majority of faces you see on your TV aren’t rich.

2 – Alright, smart guy, so what’s the scoop with these strikes? Also, are you 100% sure about the Elvis thing?

Pretty sure, yeah.  

Now, let me ask you a question:

You’ve heard your fellow humans talking about corporate greed, right? Probably tough to remember with all the bong hits, I know. But that greed has exploded in recent years. Have you noticed some impacts with buddies in other industries? Here’s the deal…

It’s not just about skyrocketing CEO salaries. There’s a flip side to that coin. Because yachts aren’t cheap. Something has to pay for them…

Spoiler alert:
In multiple industries, workers are getting squeezed.

(And, no, it hasn’t always been this extreme)

The “Hollywood strikes” are rooted in the same stuff that’s impacting people you know.

But I guess you could say this particular situation is “on steroids.”

3 – Steroids? Now, that’s badass. Makes me think of wrestling. Fine, you got my attention. So, why should I care about this?

Well, broseph…

It’s not my place to tell you what to care about. But, out of curiosity, have you ever considered how important art is in your life?

(I’m guessing probably not)

So, let’s take a look:

Maybe you’ve gone through hard times. Possibly had your heart broken along the way? Happens to all of us. Very normal part of being alive. And maybe you’ve turned to a funny show to insert some kind of joy into your day. Or, more likely, an action movie to distract you from the pain for a couple hours. I hope you’ve never lost someone. But it’s something we all have to go through. Just about the worst thing there is. It’s something that can feel like you’re living in your own private hell. And nobody in the world can relate. Sometimes we turn to storytelling because we need to see another person going through a similar journey. Art can help us feel less alone.

Sometimes stories come along that allow us to think differently. Whether you realize it or not. But art does play a huge role in your life. We’re so used to accessing it when we need something. It’s a tool so often used that we take it for granted. Even just think of how you fight boredom on a plane. Imagine those long flights with a total absence of art. With no writer, actor, or musician stepping in. Does that mean it’s the cure for cancer? Of course not. But art does play a big role in our lives.

(This is expressed beautifully here – or in a longer version here)

So, why should you care?
It’s not about fighting someone else’s fight. I think it’s just about caring enough to have the basic facts right. These are peak times for misinformation. Do you really want to keep being “bad take guy” forever?

4 – Dammit. That’s true about my nickname. I don’t really like it. Fine, I’m listening. But I thought all those people got paid millions. How are they getting squeezed (haha that made me think of boobs)?

Good one.

So, we’re friends now? Cool, let’s really talk. We’ll start with the writers first…

If I took a poll here right now, “The Bear” on Hulu would probably win for best current show. Deservedly so. Tons of people are watching it and it’s doing very well in every way. Perfect example for us…

This video will tell you the story of their staff writer Alex O’Keefe. A guy who “won the lottery” writing for a show that became a sensation. Hulu didn’t share the wealth. They didn’t make Alex a millionaire. Oh, and…

They didn’t even keep him above the poverty line.

As they basked in the glitz and spectacle of having a huge hit show…

Alex walked onstage at the WGA awards with a negative bank account balance. In a suit he had to borrow. As a writer for the award-winning show that night.

5 – What the shit? Dude, this is nuts. Wait, put that puppy in reverse for a second. None of this makes sense. I am a little buzzed right now, but you’re talking about huge shows. How did things get so bad?

Since you’re a few beers in, here’s  the simple version…

You’ve heard of actors and writers getting “residual checks,” right?

Well, you probably have a mental picture of those checks. The surprise riches that get delivered every month. I get it, daydreaming is fun. But let me ask you this:

Why do you think residual checks came into existence?

It’s because writers and actors are such massive parts of visual storytelling. Obviously, right? The entire world of the story comes from the brains of writers. And actors bring it to life. That big crew…all those lights and cameras…it’s there to capture human moments. That’s why we click the play button on our devices.

See, the visual storytelling of TV and movies is like a mirror. Reflecting our human experience back to all of us. From our strangest comedy to our darkest tragedy…and all the drama in between. As a species, we’re all over the place. And we’re all drawn to this reflection. We want to see it.

So, why did residuals come about? It’s a very big business. Corporations make huge profits from the work of writers and actors. And those workers wanted something in return for being such critical pieces of such a successful enterprise. Not yachts of their own. Just not having to borrow a suit to go to an award show. To be shown a reasonable amount of respect.

The money portion of this strike is about streaming services. How would anyone feel if they removed the part of paychecks that makes it possible to earn a living? Well, here’s a peek behind the negotiating room door:

When streamers first came along, the writers and actors were told:
“Be patient. This is new technology. We’ll take care of you.”

Not the first time “be patient” was uttered. It’s code for not paying writers. Here’s a quick look at the history of that phrase:

1981 – They got shut out of residuals for VHS tapes. And had to strike.
2007 – Shut out of residuals for DVDs. Had to strike again.
2023 – Exact same thing with streamers.

The current strike was not a surprise to anyone. Because the writers are not actually asking for “more.” They just want the big chunk of their income that was taken away. The business model includes residuals because it’s what makes that career sustainable.

This quote from a writer summed it up well:
“If someone steals your wallet and then gives you five dollars back…you’re not five dollars richer. They still stole your wallet.”

Alex O’Keefe knows the current reality of streamers. He wrote on a massive hit show and wasn’t compensated enough to cover his living expenses in the city it filmed.

Just one of many examples.

6 – Dang, dude. This is some shit. What about the actors? They have to make more than the writers, right?

Less, actually. Why don’t we look at another sensation from the last year…

“Jury Duty” was huge streaming show. Trending everywhere and the whole song and dance. Their cast (aside from the one “celebrity name”) probably didn’t make what you’d guess from such a “big break.”

Actually, let’s test this. How much would you guess?

Because it wasn’t life-changing money. Or medium money…

Or even enough to buy a lightly used Prius.

The cast of this big hit earned just enough to get over the minimum qualification for union health insurance.

7 – Yo, man. I get it now. Shit, I’d be out there striking too. Wait, big movie stars do make millions, right?

For the most part, yeah. Network series regulars and “movie stars” tend to make a bundle. Again, that’s why this strike isn’t about them. Their situations are extremely rare. They’re the first ones to say it. Keanu Reeves is the biggest “star” in every movie he makes. The big name that audiences pay to see. But nobody involved, including Keanu Reeves, would consider him the most skilled actor in any of his movies. His reality is abnormal. A turn of good fortune and luck that is just about as rare as being struck by lightning. See, there’s probably a Merryl Streep of this generation. And, if she exists, she’s likely doing an off-Broadway play and maybe a scene or two in an episode of Law & Order. She’s not a “name.” And will almost certainly never play a lead role in a studio movie. Or get to audition for one. Because here’s what successful careers typically look like for a working professional actor…

A commercial here and there, a few nice guest spots on some shows, and an occasional recurring gig. Constantly preparing and working toward the next opportunity. Jumping from job to job forever. Sustained by residuals from performing in the highest level of shows for years.

Seinfeld was a cast of four, right? Nope. There were 1,323 actors who contributed to that all-time great comedy. This strike has little to do with the four millionaires. It’s about what corporate greed has done to the other 1,319.

Because of the “streamer schemers,” 86% of the Screen Actors Guild no longer earns enough to qualify for health insurance.

(The amount needed to qualify is $26,000/year)

Between streaming and AI, a lot of people are on the verge of getting bulldozed. Sure, Tom Hanks and Julia Roberts make millions of dollars a year. And generate a ton of revenue. But seeing those numbers and thinking “that’s how actors are paid” is like seeing Richard Branson and thinking “that’s what British people earn.”

It’s wildly incorrect.

The vast majority of people who move you on your screen – along with so many of the ones who write the stories that entertain you – are no longer paid a livable wage. We’re not talking about “wannabes.” These are the working professionals. The non-celebrity success stories.

It’s why things are at a breaking point.

Remember when “Orange Is The New Black” was an early streaming hit for Netflix? CEO Ted Sarandos raved that their audience was bigger than Game Of Thrones. But it also provided a glimpse of the streaming economy that was yet to come.

8 – This is cuckoo for Coco Puffs, bro. Yo, you said something about AI with this strike. What’s the deal with that?

To give you a taste of how the other side negotiates, here’s another peek behind the curtain:

At the bottom of the totem pole are the background artists. Also known as “extras.” Those people have the longest days, the lowest pay, and so on. It’s grunt work. Not a position that requires unique skill or talent – so it’s entry-level. But they serve a purpose in the storytelling. Filling in the background and helping scenes feel real. They are part of the process. With that in mind, here’s the offer from the other side…

They proposed one day of pay to extras. Which includes a digital scan that can be used for eternity. Essentially, as AI continues advancing, they’re telling those people:
“We want the right to pay you for one day of work. And then to never pay you again.”

Yeah, you heard that right.

So, when a celebrity actor supports this strike? Part of it is to lend a voice to the lowest person on the totem pole. Joining the rest of the protesters to say this is not ok.

9 – Hold up. I think I just puked in my mouth. Paid for one day and never paid again?? Greed is right. I just had the wrong side. What in the name of Rowdy Roddy Piper is wrong with these people? Who negotiates like this??

Who? Well, that’s an interesting question. Because the negotiations now involve a bunch of Wall Street types. Most are totally disconnected from the creative process. Recently, they even asked the following question behind closed doors:
“What’s a callback?”

It’s a very common term. An important part of how their colleagues across the table pursue work. But, to them, it was nothing more than an unfamiliar word in the documentation. I’ve seen some incredible things from the “money guys” through the years. Hard to cover everything. But it happens at all levels. Even just in commercials. Which is easier to talk about since those are not current projects. Here’s a pair of examples to give you a glimpse:

• National commercial campaigns cost millions of dollars. Air time, ad agencies, expensive locations, trucks, manpower, and so on. With a budget of millions, I’ve seen those people flat-out lie about how much a commercial airs. Why? To avoid paying an extra 5 or 10 grand (that is contractually owed) to the actor starring in their commercial. Millions spent. Yet, still trying to squeeze someone out of 5k.
• I remember a brilliant Yale-trained actor who hadn’t gone on a family vacation in years. But he booked a worldwide campaign for a big computer company. They spent 10 hours filming this actor/musician from all angles. At the end of the day, the head suit whispered a message that was passed down to the actor. He was told, “They just want to get a quick closeup of your hands for an insert shot.” Everyone hugged and clapped as the shoot concluded. The actor departed for his first family vacation in years. Courtesy of this worldwide campaign. When he returned home, there was a message from his agent. The only shot they used was the one of his hands. It was seemingly the plan all along. By cutting him out, they wouldn’t have to pay him a few thousand dollars. In a campaign they were spending millions on.  

There are plenty of stories like this. Part of a long history of unreasonable behavior. So, it’s not a surprise hearing anonymous statements like:
“The endgame is to allow things to drag on until union members start losing their apartments and houses.”

10 – My dude. I don’t want to be Bad Take Guy anymore. Their GOAL is to drag it on until people lose homes? Who even thinks of shit like that?

Like I said. Yachts don’t pay for themselves.