Regular Post

Friday, November 07, 2008

Correspondence

Dear Rob—

I think you may have mistakenly grabbed one of my pens. The black one. Would you please return it to me here in my office as soon as possible? I know it’s just a pen, but it has enormous sentimental value to me.

I have a meeting in an hour and need to take notes.

Thanks!
Jim

Jim

A meeting! Good for you! Get back up on the horse, man!

Sadly, I don’t have your pen. I only write using blue ink pens. Black ink is far too harsh for me. Have you looked all over your office? Perhaps underneath one of those stacks of books?

Good luck!
Rob

Rob,
I’ve had that pen for years. Last time I saw it, you had asked to borrow it to write yourself a note to pick up one of your anti-psychotic meds at the pharmacy. You were standing in my doorway, while we discussed your shrewd plan to “monetize” your back catalog of Frankenberry cereal boxes.

Maybe you put it in your sweater vest pocket by accident?

No harm, no foul! But I’d like it back as quickly as you can roll yourself down here.

Thanks.
Jim

Jim,
Ah, yes, that fateful conversation where you slyly chided and aloofly criticized my boyhood collecting proclivities. You know, you really should come up to the house sometime and see all the improvements my “psychotic need to hoard” has achieved after my numerous and insanely successful ebay sales. You could stay for the weekend in the new east wing of the main house.

As to your pen. My only guess is that it may be hiding under one of those teetering towers of paper, books and clutter on your desk.

“Look to thine own house.”

Rob

Rob—
“Look to thine own house”?
Um…
What?
Is that scripture you are trying to quote? I’m sorry, it’s quite difficult to type as I’m laughing so hard at the notion of you over there in your office, scouring sacred and religious texts for an applicable quote. It occurs to me that only you would be so crass and bold as to try and cover your tracks with a divinely inspired quote. Especially since that “incident” with the collection plate at First Presbyterian all those years ago.

Thanks for the comedy, Rob. You crack me up. I needed that.

But if you could simply take a moment to look in your desk drawers for my beloved pen. It’s engraved with my name on the barrel in bold letters and the line “Thanks for all your hard work! —Bill Clinton”. Maybe it slipped down into the drawer where you keep your not-so-secret stash of Stolichnaya?
Jim

J.
As I have explained to you (and the authorities) many times, my hand accidentally jarred the collection plate, knocking it over. It was a simple mistake. Any monies that incidentally landed in the folds of my coat were promptly returned to the rectory. Your clumsy attempt at repartee leaves me feeling even more sorry for you. I had not previously thought that possible.

You are quite welcome for the giggles. I’m sure levity must be in short supply in your life these days, since Rita left the state with her yoga instructor last April. We got a card from her the other day, by the way. She and Haji seem to be doing quite well. She’s pregnant now, had you heard? I guess it wasn’t she who was the infertile one as you had always posited.

I can absolutely understand your continuing reluctance to search your office for your woe begotten pen. The smell alone from the southeast corner is enough to gag even the hardiest of souls. Maybe you should call the Health Department and ask them to send over a team to evacuate the more fetid crevices before you begin a search in earnest?

Ah yes, my “secret stash.” How funny you should bring that up, given all the rumors I’ve heard of late about how your last “sabbatical” wasn’t spent over at the Sorbonne doing “research,” but was at the Promises Rehab facility. I hear they do good work. Shame it didn’t take in your case.

R.

Rob.

I am tired of these games.

You have my pen. I saw you using it as one half of a set of chopsticks in the company cafeteria, while you gluttonously slurped down your Thai noodles last Tuesday.

And my heavens man, they have napkins there! You should look into using those instead of your left sleeve after you shovel food into that gaping maw of yours.

I am sorry it has come to this, but have my pen back to me by the top of the hour, or I’m calling Security. I wonder if they also might be interested in your extra-curricular accounting practices?

Jim

J.

Well, congratulations, James, you have sunk to a new low. I hadn’t thought that possible in this liftime. But you have stretched your wings far and wide in order to glide down to this abysmal low. Petty blackmail threats for what amounts to a useless trinket from a womanizing amoral adulterer.

Did you know that everyone who gave even $5 to the re-election campaign got one of those trinkets you are currently obsessing over?

And, as I recall during my ever so brief encounter with your obscenely treasured pen, it didn’t write smoothly at all. I can’t for the life of me see why you hold it in such esteem. My normal flowing script was reduced to a shaky line that resembled an epileptic’s EEG or perhaps your scrawl after one of your late night benders.

R.

Robert:

FOR THE LAST TIME, DO NOT CALL ME “JAMES.”

That represents my father and I think of it as my “slave” name.

I expect my pen to back in my hands at the end of the day.

Security is on speed dial.

J.

James.

Your “slave” name. Now I’m having trouble typing again as the waves of laughter cascade over me.

You do remember that you are as white as a lily and born and bred of old WASP-y New England money, don’t you? Surely, your personal delusions haven’t carried you that far down the road to madness, have they?

Rob

Rob.

You should be hearing the bootfalls of Security outside your office door any moment now.

I hope the mace they use on you doesn’t stain your clothes. Though obviously your dry cleaner is a miracle worker, given your horrid grooming habits and poor hand-eye coordination at meal times.

Jim

James:

Good News!

I believe I have found your pen!

It was in the possession of a local transient named “Gilly.” Gilly, though I’m loathe to judge another human being harshly, doesn’t appear to be the most wholesome creature walking the streets these days. It also seems that he’s wiped the pen off as best he could with good old fashioned “spit and polish.” Au natural as it were. And, notwithstanding the difficultly in understanding his rambling mutterings, it’s also possible he believes himself to be a medical professional of some sort and was convinced your pen was a rectal thermometer. You’ll have to check to be sure on that score, though; I think he’s quite mad. Also, don’t be alarmed, he’s kept the pen quite safe and tucked into the folds of his mountainous flaps of sweaty skin.

He should be delivering it in person to your office post-haste.

Good luck at your meeting!

Rob

Jon scribbled this mess on 11/07/08 at 02:39 PM, best we can tell it fits in the category of Regular Post Favorite Entries. This many folks had something to say about that, The permanent home of this entry is here: Link

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

Happy Obama Day! Free Puppies for Everyone!

I love this map:

(screen grab from msnbc)

I have many thoughts. But I’m struck by a couple things.

The Republicans had a BAD hand this election cycle. Nothing went their way. The economy. The war(s). George W. Bush. Sarah Palin. Bad mojo all around in their camp as they scrambled to find a “voice.”
My youngest children will grow up with an African-American as President. And that won’t be anything unusual for them. I love that.

Seriously.

Think about this for a second. A couple hundred years ago, African-American men and women were brought to this country in chains.

Fifty or so years ago, they could barely vote.

Yesterday we elected a black man as President (mixed race, even!) (and he has a simply terrible middle name!)

THAT is a helluva thing. (Mostly because his race didn’t seem to matter to most people voting for him)

Finally, go read/watch the speeches the candidates gave last night. McCain was gracious, genial and a gentleman. Finally. (Though if you watch the video, you’ll note that his supporters in the audience are decidedly NOT any of those things). I tend to think the McCain from last night is the “real” McCain. Why he didn’t talk like that during the actual campaign is a ginourmous mystery. Obama’s speech made me weep. Of course. With gladness and joy and determination.

Welcome to the future, America.

Jon scribbled this mess on 11/05/08 at 09:50 AM, best we can tell it fits in the category of Regular Post. This many folks had something to say about that, The permanent home of this entry is here: Link

Monday, November 03, 2008

My 15 Minutes of Fame Clock Reads 14:58

I got interviewed about the election and twitter by a very nice reporter from msnbc.com.

Here is the article.

Pretty sure the clock has about run the course on my fame now.

Jon scribbled this mess on 11/03/08 at 09:36 AM, best we can tell it fits in the category of Regular Post. This many folks had something to say about that, The permanent home of this entry is here: Link

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Citrus Fruit Season Is Now Officially Over (Part 2 of Navel Gazing)

Last time I went all “GIANT POST WITH MUCH NAVEL GAZING,” I talked a bit about how I felt my humor and its unleashing on the world had to be tamed or mutated in some way. Not because there is anything inherently wrong with being funny, of course, but just that for me, I needed to get a handle on where it comes from.

Sadly, this post you are reading now might not make that much sense unless you read the other extravaganza. Shut up! I know! I desperately need an editor.

I’ve been thinking about this humor stuff for a while and here is the best I have come up with as to my motivations behind why I am the person I am. (The “how I got there” is only really interesting to me (and my therapist, I suppose, but only because I’m paying her and keep showing up at appointments, notwithstanding my wholehearted loathing about going)).

I wanted to be funny because that was the only way I knew how to get the love and acceptance I craved from people. It’s also quite handy in keeping all the feelings and issues I don’t want to address at bay. For me, humor is both a way to get people to like me, while at the same time keeping them at a distance. Trust me, it’s hard to be close to someone who doesn’t even accept the premise that “it’s time to be serious now.”

I shudder to make this a universal construct or anything, but I can only come up with three reasons why people are “funny” (in a “global” sense, where it pretty much consumes your personality, not just in the “have a good sense of humor” meaning of the word):

To get people to like you

To avoid confrontation and/or resist intimacy

To be vengeful or exert power

In the realm of my personal neurotic solar system, only the first two really apply. I’m desperately afraid of letting the third come out and play (see reason #1). Though occasionally it does, but I’ve learned pretty well how to curb going into the neighborhood of #3. And when, in the event I do veer into that orbit, I always end up feeling pretty rotten afterward.

One thing I’ve gleaned from writing a blog for a while or posting on twitter (which is even worse in a way), is that blogging was and is a perfect medium for getting a decent amount of #1 and enough of #2 that I still felt comfortable. It feels a bit like “killing” during a stand up performance. I’ve done a teeny amount of stand up and the buzz from making people laugh is extraordinary. Comments, hitting the front page of favrd (it’s a twitter thing), traffic analysis through delving into apache log files, PageRank, landing on people’s blogrolls and complimentary emails are like crack hits to a psyche that craves acceptance, affection and admiration. People like me! They really like me! It feels amazing. How can I stop? Why on earth would I ever dream of stopping? How can I keep doing it? How can I get more? How can I turn everything in my life into a channel for the gaping maw of surface-bobbing love that is the scattershot of people who read this site or follow me on twitter?

To wit:

Wife: “Sometimes I feel like all our familial interactions are just fodder for your blog or twitter.” Me: “Don’t be ridiculous.” Me on August 18, 2008.

So what’s the big deal about that? Where is the harm in living your life on the surface and keeping everything light and airy and funny?

That’s the catch for me. After drifting my whole life on the superficial surface of intimacy, all forty-one years of it so far, my standard modus operandi has left me essentially empty inside. Not because the affection and attention isn’t real, deserved or appreciated, but because of the decades of strongly resisted intimacy that came along for the ride. Surfing on the veneer of life has left me seemingly vacant and in some ways unable to have “real” relationships with people. Yeah, I’m working on fixing that, I can assure you. Let me tell you, it’s quite the thing to “enjoy” the dawning realization and irony that you’ve lived your life in a such a way as to achieve the exact opposite of what you’ve been striving for all those years. Where is the “Cmd + Z/Undo” function for my life, please?

Though additionally I have to admit that the desire for positive feedback and notice (i.e., have my “stuff” read and be popular) and having that specific thing be so important; that ultimately also feels pretty needy and unattractive to me. “Here I am! Love me!” Plus, it’s never enough. I simply can not fill all my psychic holes with the affection of strangers I’ll likely never meet in person. That can only happen in the relationships in my immediate physical line of sight, I’m sure.

Anyway and again, I know this comes across as a classic case of a “First World Problem,” “take-it-to-LiveJournal, Emo Boy,” pity party-a-thon, but it’s hugely important to me (and my family by extension). I’m not going anywhere really; I’m not taking the site down with a huge emo flourish. My “voice” here on Ransom Note Typography isn’t changing, but I’m finding the “why” behind it is morphing a lot behind the scenes and hopefully the quality around here may improve (though I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you. *rim shot*). The net result will probably fewer posts each week, but I hope they will be better/funnier/less filled with inexplicable typos as my zeal to gain the contact high of immediate feedback abates. That’s now the goal, anyway.

Thanks for being a reader and letting me take a moment there and analyze and spill my guts about what the hell I’m doing.

Jon scribbled this mess on 10/28/08 at 03:35 PM, best we can tell it fits in the category of Regular Post. This many folks had something to say about that, The permanent home of this entry is here: Link

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Fall Fashion Guide

Fall is here!

Yes, I know Fall “officially” started a little while ago, but I’ve been swamped, so back off, man.

First off, it was an exciting summer in Fashion here at Ransom Note Typography HQ. I bought two pairs of shorts. I wore them out in public. No one died after basking in the glow of my pasty white calves. It was glorious.

Second, I subscribe to a personalized “Fashion Do’s and Don’ts” newsletter. Every season I get an update on what I should and shouldn’t be wearing. Some tips are specific to me, but there’s a lot of good info in there! The least I could do is share with you.

Sweater vests—Still out. We don’t expect a serious comeback of the sweater vest until Michael J. Fox revisits his Alex P. Keating role from Family Ties. Best not to try and pull off the “sweater vest look” man. You aren’t nearly dorky enough. Plus, you’d have to start wearing bow ties again, and that’s also a bad move.

Corduroy Pants—Acceptable in limited use. Also, we’ve seen reports of severe burns and/or rashes from overheating as people in cords walk down the street. People! If you are going to wear cords, know the limits and friction ratios of your inner thighs. BE CAREFUL OUT THERE!

Argyle Socks—Fine, but again. MODERATION is the key. And stay away from argyle with purple in it (even as an accent color). You just look ridiculous.

Tweed—Good to go, but only if you plan on actually finishing that Ph.D. in Comparative Literature this year.

Leather—Never again. Especially not chaps. The mental picture alone is sickening.

Black tee shirts with funny slogans/art/band names—Never went out of style! Except that “Keep on Truckin’!” shirt. Burn that.

Jeans with holes in them—Grow up man! You are 41 years old! You have a job, go buy a couple new pairs, for the love of Levi Strauss on a gingerbread house.

Sweaters—Marginally OK. Make sure they aren’t “Cosby” sweaters and you should be fine. Though last time we peeked in your closet, all we saw were multi-colored monstrosities, so you might need to go shopping. Stick to solid colors. No patterns or textures or you’ll get in trouble like that one year with the “frills and tassels” fiasco. No one wants to see that happen again.

See you in December when we talk about whether powder blue snow suits are IN or not!

Jon scribbled this mess on 10/21/08 at 03:42 PM, best we can tell it fits in the category of Regular Post. This many folks had something to say about that, The permanent home of this entry is here: Link

Regular Post

Friday, November 07, 2008

Correspondence

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

Happy Obama Day! Free Puppies for Everyone!

Monday, November 03, 2008

My 15 Minutes of Fame Clock Reads 14:58

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Citrus Fruit Season Is Now Officially Over (Part 2 of Navel Gazing)

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Fall Fashion Guide

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