All in Favor Say What?!

Aaaayyyyeeee!!!!!

I was watching the news not too long ago and I saw a story concerning an uproar at the Republican National Convention that made me chuckle.

Now, when I started writing, both fiction and blogs, I promised myself I would stay away from politics – getting thrown out of a benefit for screaming about the Bill of Rights tends to push you off your soap box. I vowed that my opinions on politics and religion don’t need to be splattered on the page or vocalized anywhere, except in the voting booth.

This post is not about the politics of that convention. Don’t worry.

The uproar at the convention was over a proposed rule change that affects who can run in a primary – a pretty big rule change. You know how they voted on the proposed rule change? A voice vote. Yes, the Speaker of the House asked all in favor to say aye and all opposed to say no. Boehner didn’t have a scream-o-meter like the one in the picture. He alone determined which side raised the roof more. You can see in the video below how close it was.

Technologically, we’ve come a long way in this nation. We have phones that can pinpoint your location and recommend an eatery based on your tastes. We have a robot on Mars. We have drones. We have pens. Yet, we still use the voice vote? Even America’s Funniest Home Videos has come up with a better way to pick a winner. I’m all for efficiency. I’m all for fairness. You’d think the RNC could come up with a balance of the two, but I said I’d stay out of the politics of it all. Regardless, all in favor of ending voice votes, say aye.

Genius Branding?

I’m no branding expert. Heck I’m not even a branding novice. But I am a writer and I have written plenty of marketing copy and know how to reach a consumer audience.

So every now and then I come across a product name or slogan that jumps out at me and I say to myself, what were they thinking? Look at the image.

Dirty Sugar!

You may wonder why I’m not mature enough to understand the reasoning behind the name. Well, I’m a guy. I still have the comedic maturity of a 15-year-old. I doubt there’s a guy out there who wouldn’t giggle when seeing this.

Anyhow, the deep thinker I am realized that maybe this was the brand’s intention all along. Get a good laugh and a few mentions on a few blogs and people will be inclined to try the product. Sweet Jesus it’s working. Kudos, Two Moms.

Beware the Dangers of Bottle Caps

No Caps Allowed, Mister!

I recently mentioned that my wife and I went to the Prudential Center in Newark for a show, one that dealt with deadly childbirth and Christmas. While the content of the show has stuck with me, there was another occurrence that took place that night that still makes me laugh.

Before finding our seats, we decided to buy some snacks. My wife wanted a soft pretzel and bottled water and I wanted a hotdog and bottled water. Of course, I couldn’t get a pretzel and a hotdog in the same line, so I decided to make my wife happy first and wait for the pretzel. After waiting for what seemed to be ten minutes, I finally got to the counter, placed my order with the cashier, and paid. She kindly handed over the pretzel and then she handed over two bottles of water, both with the caps off.

My face must have had a look of befuddlement. “We can’t give you the cap,” she said. I must have still looked puzzled. “Management doesn’t want people throwing them. It could be dangerous or a distraction.”

“Couldn’t I just throw the bottle?” I asked.

“Not if you’re thirsty,” she laughed, knowing I was kidding with her.

“I know I’m going to spill this on myself or on the person sitting in front of me,” I said. My wife laughed knowing that my Nostradamus attempt was actually going to be true. “That’s the most ridiculous rule I’ve ever heard,” I said to my wife as we moved from the pretzel line to the hotdog line. “How painful can a bottle cap be, even if someone launches it?”

Stadiums can have strange rules. While in college, I worked as a waiter at the Victor’s Club, a restaurant in the then Wachovia Center, now Wells Fargo Center. As a Philadelphia Flyers and Sixers fan, it was a great gig. The Center hosted the NBA All-Star game one year and I was responsible for taking care of the press and some other celebrities, who all had floor seats. “No food on the floor,” Sam my boss, we called him Sammy the Bull, told me before it got busy. “Why not we serve on the floor every other night?” I asked. “House rule tonight,” he said. No problem. Then, during the game, a guy by the name of Justin asked if he could get his girl Britney nachos with cheese and a hotdog. I believe my response was, “Ummm…”

“Boss, it’s Justin and Britney and Britney is hungry. I know, the rules, the rules, but can’t we break them this one time?” I pestered Sammy the Bull for a good five minutes before he caved and said, fine but no one else. “Stupid rules,” I said as I ran to get the order.

“Stupid rules,” I said as my wife and I made our way to our seats with our food and cap-free water. We found our section and then our row. As I maneuvered to take off my coat and then settle down, I tipped the water bottle and flung water all over my lap. “Told you!” I said to my laughing wife.