Know Your Audience

When you blog on Google, they offer a feature where you can track pageviews for each of your individual entries. Now, I don't know how accurate these "stats" are, but who am I to argue with Google? I'd rather pick a battle with Facebook, especially since "The Social Network" was released into theaters, making them look like selfish bastards.

After studying the most pertinent data, I came to several very important conclusions. First, my viewing audience is only slightly larger than a jury at the high end, as big as the band members of Green Day on the low end. So, I don't think I'll be selling advertising any time in the future, unless the client was looking for a very small, targeted, private audience who all live in the same neighborhood. The second point of interest was seeing which of the blogs was most popular with my loyal audience.

The three most popular topics were (are you sitting down?), Pets, Celebrities, and Garage Sales. On the surface, this shouldn't be that surprising. After all, who doesn't love their dog, celebrity sightings or the sheer excitement of negotiating the price of items that by all rights should be taking center stage at the garbage dump? I have to admit. It was a little disappointing. I thought some of the other blogs would have peaked a little more interest. I've written about politics, children, health related issues, and even movies, but somehow they haven't seemed to strike the right chord.

I asked a few friends who also blog on a regular basis, and they told me that the problem is that I don't focus on a single topic. In essence, I'm a jack of all trades, but a master of nothing. And that does have a certain element of truth. But I never wanted to be a one trick pony and put myself to sleep by writing about the same thing every week. However, it seems in the world of blogging, diversification isn't the most prudent advice.

I also noticed that I have a following in Denmark, Canada, and China. I've always wanted to go international, but I wish I knew what the attraction was. Could it be that the Danish of Copenhagen like to read about dogs? Perhaps the Canadians like to break from hockey and read about celebrities or maybe the Chinese are fascinated by the archaic concept of selling old merchandise from our garages. Whatever the reason, it's nice to know that blogging has no borders.

So, it looks like I have a decision to make. If I want more readers, I'll have to stick to a single subject. I'll also have to focus on the lowest common denominator which will preclude me from discussing anything that I'm passionate about. I need to leave politics to the cable news pundits, allow Rotten Tomatoes to monopolize reviews and comments about film, and give Disney and Nickelodeon exclusivity on telling children's stories. Conversely, I could roll the dice and continue writing about what interests me, even at the expense of readership.

After giving this some thought, I chose the latter. If you can't write about what really interests you, then what's the point of writing at all? I know this may disappoint Denmark and Canada, but I think they'll get over it. So expect more commentary on traditional subjects, but from a slightly different angle. And your vantage point will always be from the front of the line, rather than in back.

I'm curious to see how many views this post receives, although my expectations are low.

After all, who really wants to read a blog about blogs?

The Dark Side of Comedy

There has always been a fine line between comedy and tragedy and that line was agressively crossed recently with the death of comic, Greg Giraldo. Giraldo, most recognized as a visceral comedian from multiple celebrity roasts, fell into a coma after accidentally overdosing on pharmaceutical medication.

This isn't the first case of celebrity abuse of prescription drugs. Heath Ledger suffered a similar fate as he was fighting depression from everyday life or as a result of detoxing evil from his body after his role as the Joker.

The most disturbing part of Giraldo's passing was that he represented an additional entry into the book of comedians that died prematurely. Lenny Bruce, Richard Pryor, Sam Kinison, and George Carlin immediately come to mind. All these men, and it's almost always men, suffered from a similar poison of some inner demons whose antidote was always comedy.

But somewhere in between their movies, shows, specials, and sitcoms, these comics found plenty of time for alcohol, cocaine, pain killers, anti-depressants, and in the case of Sam Kinison, fast cars. The same people who were harbingers of the comedic art form, the ones who split our sides and hurt our stomachs from their humor, were humorless actually inside.

Could it be that comedy attracts the depressed and the self-destructive? The season finale of "Louie", starring comedian, Louis C.K. actually explores the very subject. He plays a comic, divorced with two kids. He hires a babysitter, and goes out by himself. He wanders off to a few bars, strikes out with the ladies, and eventually finds himself in front of his mainstay comedy club. He asks if he could jump on stage for a five minute set, where he goes on to speak about divorce and how it's akin to being let out of prison after many years and having to assimilate back into society. Once again, pain meets comedy.

It's been well documented that a good portion of the psychiatric profession is filled with people who still can't solve their own problems, and through analyzing others, they go through a period of self exploration. Maybe being a comedian provides a similar catharsis for the troubled and self-deprecating.

Of course, this doesn't apply to all comedians. In fact, for Jewish comics, the profession serves as a mystical fountain of youth. Joan Rivers, Don Rickles, Robert Klein, and Jackie Mason are all going strong and performing regularly. Rivers and Rickles were the focus of successful documentaries, Klein just completed another HBO special and Jackie Mason is making yet another comeback. In the Jewish culture, laughter has always been a function of coping. Tell a joke, and you'll feel better.

Similarly, not every Irish and Italian stand-up is on the brink of suicide either. But it is an alarming trend that has had a long history. The court jester, the clown, is great fun for a short time. However, when the costume and make-up come off, we see faces that are unrecognizable; decidedly different personas.
And in some respects we don't laugh with them or at them.

Comedy and tragedy will continue to intersect. So the next time you're at a comedy club, watching a series of young comedians, lend your support. Because to most of them, life isn't purely a laughing matter.

Garage Sale

I hate garage sales. To me, they're all just a slight upgrade from the junkyard in the front of Fred Sanford's house. In fact, every time I see a garage sale I hear the Sanford and Son theme song playing in my head and I look for Lamont's truck. Needless to say, I wasn't thrilled this morning when I found out that multiple houses on my block would be hosting several of their own.

Didn't EBAY render garage sales extinct? Instead of the junk sitting on your front lawn, you simply put pictures on the computer and let the games begin. You don't have to worry about negotiating, and unlike the haggling that's built into the bazaar like atmosphere of a garage sale, the final price usually settles higher, and not lower than the original price. I guess not everyone is computer savvy and there is something nice about not worrying about delivery, as these crazed bargain hunters will haul your trash away for you.

I purposely slept late hoping to snooze through the junk tsumani block party. And just when I thought I was out of the woods, my kids arrive home from dance class, see the neighbors' sales, and their brains begin moving at the speed of light. It's that instant epiphany where the mind races and kids see dollar signs under their eyelids. So now that they agreed upon a sale of their own, it was time to take inventory.

I didn't want any part of this. A garage sale? Coming from my garage? Now I'd have to contend with all those professional garage sales people. You know who I mean. Those people that drive around with special Garmins that are programmed to find every garage sale within a 50 mile radius looking for that one lamp that matches the paisley couch they bought in 1965. Or that Mom with young kids that negotiates every toy down to a nickel even if when you originally bought them, you paid more than a nickel just for the tax. Did I really need this on a Saturday. Or did I?

My basement is filled with Fisher Price toys, baby dolls, plastic food, Dora action figures, and a series of other items that were taken out of the playing rotation years ago. And my attic was filled with old DVDs that we've held onto despite the fact that we don't have an active DVD player in the entire house. Maybe this wasn't a bad idea after all. Maybe I would even help. I immediately snapped into salesman mode and began pitching the kids of what to throw in the junk pile based on how much they could make. I won a few and lost a few. How was I supposed to know that their first drum and tambourine actually had sentimental value? But none of that mattered. The end game is what counted and I was about to unload some very garage sale worthy items.

The kids worked like pros, using all the classic sales tactics like buy one, get one free and bulk discounts. Some of the day's highlights included selling a DVD box set of "Curb Your Enthusiasm" to a man who had never even heard of the show and the sale of two Cinderella chairs to a woman in a minivan while the car was still moving.

They generated $100 net for the day minus a 10% commission to our young next door neighbor who didn't have any "junk" of her own to sell, but was willing to help with the labor intensive set up. Our shoppers were all very cordial and we even met one nice family where we exchanged phone numbers for a future get together.

I asked my young entrepreneurs what they planned to do with the money, and they quickly responded that they would both like a new bean bag chair for their rooms. It seemed like a perfect choice as a reward for a hard day's work. I just had one thought on my mind.

How long would it be before they're hawking two bean bag chairs in an upcoming garage sale?

This Won't Hurt A Bit

The scorecard has gone final. I've now officially had three surgeries in three years. At this pace, if I live into my 90's, I'm certain to run out of body parts to fix. Maybe by then I'll upgrade to stem cell therapy.

The more fascinating aspect of these last physically tumultuous years is the growing number of friends, family, and co-workers who have just been in an operating room or patiently waiting for one to open up. My oldest friend had his gall bladder removed. A college buddy had a heart valve replaced. One of my co-workers just had her rotator cuff repaired, and another is scheduled for a knee replacement next week. An even younger co-worker is still recovering from surgery for a herniated disc in his back. An ex co-worker recently had a hernia repair and my neighbor is scheduled for an October repair of his pelvic floor and dual adductors.

I fully understand that as I reluctantly enter middle age, I'm bound to know a few people in need of a surgical fix. And this is well before the next decade when plastic surgery will be both in vogue and the primary discussion of most dinner conversations. So it's not the sheer number of people getting their names on the surgical docket that amazes me, it's the ease and the sheer willingness to do so. Finding a surgeon isn't like picking out a house or a dog. This is some serious crap.

Our approach may have slight variations, but the protocol is the same. We seek referrals from our friends, family and other medical professionals. Some of us even pick a surgeon by geography. Could you imagine that? Select the hands that will cut you open by the proximity to your house! "Yup, I decided to go with Dr.Sharp because he lives on my cull-de-dac." What are we nuts? I don't even select a vet that way.

Regardless of the doctor we ultimately choose, when it comes to the discovery period of the procedure, we all ask the same basic questions. How long is the surgery? What's the recovery time like? What's your success ratio? And maybe, just maybe, we ask about how many procedures they've actually performed. And they share their answers with enough bravado and confidence that we accept the data for what it is. Wait a minute. Just what is it exactly? It's just statistics based on other patients and information collected from a head nurse. How do these surgeons really know unless they've experienced the procedure themselves?

I think it's time we make this a requirement of any surgeon. Before they get a degree and a license to practice, these docs have to go through at least one procedure they perform. Now I know what you're thinking. It would be unnecessary surgery and with some disciplines like cardiac and brain surgery, it may be just a bit too extreme. So let's be fair. We'll only apply these rules to orthopedics- hips, knees, shoulders, elbows, hands, feet and fingers. Most of these people will probably need one of these body parts repaired at some point anyway, so why not some real life experience that they can draw from and give patients what they really need - an honest answer.

In every surgery I've had, I tell the physical therapists afterwards what the surgeon predicts for recovery with respect to time and pain. The response is always the same. "That's what we're here for. To tell you like it really is." These physical therapists are on the front lines every day and see people at their absolute worst. So when they give you a prognosis, you tend to listen. But this would all be unnecessary if the surgeon gave you the real deal up front. Just once, I'd like to hear one of them say, "It hurts like a sonofabitch for weeks, for several nights you may cry or plan my murder, and Percoset will be your best friend and constipation your worst enemy. You'll have a very attractive scar which will forever remind you of the butcher job I did; kind of like my signature saying I was here."

It's probably never going to happen. Medical schools will never change and these docs will continue predicting your outcome and recovery based on other patients' history and not those of the actual surgeon. In the meantime, we're all stuck with rhetoric of just how easy everything will be.

Just once, I'd like to see them give it a try.

7-11 Near 9/11

Real estate is once again the focal point of every news organization. But this time, it has nothing to do with interest only mortgages, faulty credit default swaps, predator lending or foreclosing. It does, however, coincide with one of the oldest real estate mantras in the business.

Location, location, location.

Developers desire to build a mosque in close proximity to the site of the World Trade Center, and as expected, this has created a public relations eruption of volcanic proportions. For the mass media, this story is rife with both political and religious controversy. When a story is fueled by these two incendiary topics, it's akin to throwing a match into a pool of gasoline. So I thought the safest route to take was none at all. As New Yorkers, and as Americans, you're either on one side or the other and I'm opting out of the discussion.

However, I do question one thing. Of all the possibilities, and I mean anything that's humanly plausible, was a mosque the best we could come up with? Was there even anything else on the list? A second choice? Nobody ever talks about what was rejected.

A mosque or....a pet shop?

Or how about a mosque or a Cheesecake Factory? When it comes to downtown New York, you're bound to have naysayers no matter what you choose. But then it hit me. The one thing that we can all agree on as neutral territory. Something which crosses all classes, and serves as all things to all people. And at a universally acceptable price point.

A 7-11.

Think about the marketing. Come to the 7-11 near 9/11. It flows beautifully. These convenience chains typically have foreign ownership, many from regions near the Middle East. There won't be praying (unless you ate the Beef Jerky), and no fear of racial epithets. Just Slurpies and an occasional Big Gulp. And that sure is easier to swallow than the heated battle between politics and religion. Also,the cops love 7-11, so customers will always have a sense of security walking around the neighborhood.

Alright, maybe it's too abstract. Maybe we shouldn't make 9/11 real estate about 7-11 food. So how about a Barnes and Noble? But not just any Barnes and Noble. This one would only carry specific books - - those on the historical relationship between the U.S. and the Middle East. Books that explain the meaning of the Koran, and others that provide justification for Israel. Most importantly, it would carry books that honor those workers, policemen, and firefighters that fought heroically that fateful day. When looking back on 9/11 with a historical eye, it would be nice to be fully armed and educated.

As long as we're brainstorming, let's not rule out a hospital. Wouldn't that be great? A medical facility near the site for 9-11. The WTC Memorial Hospital. We all know how the boys on Wall Street like to live hard. Between drinking, snorting coke, or popping Vicadin, there's certain to be a dearth of prospects stopping by on their lunch breaks for unexplained chest pain. All the favorite hospitals of New York Magazine are all located in midtown and above, so a downtown hospital that people can trust would be unique and necessary.

Now if you just can't break free from the concept of having a religious entity in the area, one that could provide a certain catharsis for all that transpired there a decade ago, may I suggest a temple that would connect with both national and international congregations. A place where everyone prays to one God without fear of loathing or reprisal.

An Apple Store.

It even looks like a temple, with a big Apple on the front. It brings smiling faces from all over the world, who all speak a common language - Mackintosh. As we traverse through the store, we'll be singing praises to the Apple God - Steve Jobs. And we'll pray. We'll pray that the next iPad has a video camera, or that Verizon will finally win a contract for the iPhone. No political strife, no religious controversy. Just people from all walks of life discussing the future. Discussing the future without forgetting about how these products, through pictures, and old video never let us forget the past. This Apple Store could even run promotions where a percentage of the proceeds go to the victims' families from 9-11 who never got the help they needed.

Now that's a mosque we can all agree on.

No Demi-Glaze

This country loves celebrities. England has their royalty in Buckingham Palace and we have ours in Beverly Hills. For most of us these deities remain at a distance on You Tube or the Boob Tube, but every so often, we actually come face to face with one of these celebs and maybe even have the opportunity to speak with them. And just as the right moment presents itself.....we say something completely stupid.

"I love your movies." "I have all your songs on my iPod." "Will you marry me?" Our brains go numb, our synapses no longer connect and we speak like we just completed the first grade.

Our family has always been different. Not necessarily better, just different. When my wife and I attended an after party for a Tom Selleck movie, we cornered Mr. Selleck near a decorative fruit table. My wife grabbed a grapefruit and asked if he'd sign it. Tom, respectfully declined and said, "if I signed a grapefruit for you, I'd have to sign a grapefruit for everyone." At an ABC party in the early 90's, I spotted Donald Trump. His wife at the time was Marla Maples and I knew just what to say to get his attention. "Mr. Trump, I saw your wife last night." Both he and his bodyguard looked at me with venom. With a slight hesitation, I finished, "in the Will Rogers Follies. Her performance was great." The Donald relaxed and needless to say it was a quick conversation.

So when I was told that my kids had an opportunity to meet Demi Lovato of Disney fame, I couldn't really impart any celebrity approaching wisdom. I just set the stage for them. "You'll be in a posh manhattan hotel, and she'll be in the process of being interviewed by the press to promote Camp Rock 2. She'll probably have time for a quick hello, maybe a picture and then your brief brush with fame will be over." Now for those parents out there, especially those with daughters, you already know that meeting a Disney Channel star is a big deal. Demi Lovato plays with the Jonas Brothers and is the second coming of Miley Cyrus.

My girls needed to bring their A games. They began researching and discovered that Demi Lovato was teased so badly in school that she was forced to be home schooled. As a result, she's now heavily involved with an anti-bullying charity. They went out and bought a teddy bear, placed it in a pink box with a note that saying they'd love to bring the message to their schools. And just in case she thought it was a good idea, they prepared their email addresses.

The big day arrived last week. They went to the hotel, received special access and waited patiently for Demi Lovato to make a quick appearance. My wife and I came armed as well with cameras, sharpies, and pictures. But we had no idea what to expect. They could scream, they could cry, they could be shy. What would they say to their idol when it was crunch time?

The big moment arrived. Demi was escorted by a Disney employee. She first introduced herself to me and my wife, and we thanked her for making the time to meet our girls. My wife commented on how different her hair looked, clearly admitting that she watched Demi as much as her kids did on the Disney Channel. Now Demi moved on to the kids. Just her and them.

They introduced themselves and asked if they could give her a present. She graciously accepted and the kids explained that it was in honor of her work with her charity. Next came the perfunctory picture where she allowed three different shots. Clearly busy, Demi looked like she was ready to move on. Then they did something unexpected.

They asked if they could sing Demi one of her songs. Now this could have many different repercussions. First, she could say that she didn't have time. Or maybe she had the time, but my kids will sing off key. Or foget the lyrics. Demi agreed. My oldest daughter went first and jumped right into ""This is Me" from Camp Rock. The lyrics were perfect, the notes were perfect. Demi smiled separately at both my wife and I. My daughter finished and Demi told her how good she was. Several members of the Disney staff applauded. A true professional, Demi turned to my younger daughter and asked if she wanted to give it a try. A little more reserved, and slightly shy, she also got through the song with flying colors.

At the end of the day, I asked my kids if they ever thought they'd be singing in front of one of their heroes. They were still in shock. But little did they know what they accomplished; meeting a celebrity and engaging her for a few minutes. They performed much better than their parents would have at their age or maybe at any age.

In a stressful situation, they performed like champs. And for that, they're my heroes.

A Cure for Charities

The economy stinks, but people are still buying iPads. The stock market is in a holding pattern, however, hotels are booked and vacation travel has exploded. Home furnishing retail is getting crushed, but upscale restaurants are crowded again.

Uncertain times can definitely cause changes in our buying patterns, but the one area nobody talks about is charity. Are we giving as much as we used to? Do we just wait for another disaster to strike similar to New Orleans or Haiti, so we can simply text our donations to the Red Cross?

Some of us still have our favorite charities and give if our finances allow. Then there's the other contingency that walks, runs, bikes, skips, jump ropes, or rollerblades to raise money for a worthy cause that's personal to them. Through email blasts, many of these people can reach hundreds of friends at once asking each one to "sponsor" them and pay a few bucks by the mile. So it wasn't until recently that I realized that they may be leaving significant money on the table.

First of all, walking and running are certainly tests of endurance and in turn, the participants ask us to pay for their efforts. Again, a great concept, but so mundane that the maximum money raised is capped before you get to the starting gate.

Let's forget about all this child's play and go for the real deal. Like lion taming. Man, wouldn't that be a cash cow? You finish a walk, you get 5 bucks per mile. But you pull a Ziefield and Roy, and hell, I'd pay $100 a minute. If you don't survive, we'd just create another charity for you - - "Finding a Cure for Lion Taming." Sky diving is another good one. If you get on your bike and ride 100 miles, the best case scenario is $5 a mile. But if you jumped out of an airplane at 15,000 feet, people would pledge a couple of grand and you'd get prominent placement on You Tube.

Alright, maybe these are a little too dangerous. So how about putting people in uncomfortable situations for cash. And it would vary by individual. If someone doesn't like to speak in public, you offer to pay $500 for a half hour speech, and money goes up if the audience increases. People who avoid the dentist because they've seen Dustin Hoffman in "Marathon Man" or for any other reason, would receive several hundred for a cleaning and a grand for root canal. People who are afraid of heights get higher jackpots depending on the size of the building. The crown at the Statue or Liberty is worth $250, but the observation deck at the Empire State building or Seattle's Space Needle would begin at $1500.

With this strategy we accomplish two things. First, more money for the charity. Next, you help people conquer their fears and work on self improvement. In a sense, it's like double charity.

The tag lines for fundraising would sound more interesting too. "Speed Racing for Sinusitus", "Bungee Jumping for Brochitis", "Shark Swimming for Syphilis.". Marketing these charities would be much easier, as these names just roll right off the tongue. But I don't expect any drastic changes in the near future. So we'll still be paying for people to walk or ride bicycles. And the charities will continue being underfunded.

But as soon as they come out with" Russian Roulette for Rheumatoid Arthritis", I suspect that we'll all start donating monthly with direct deposit accounts.