The Worst Job I've Ever Had

Whenever I reflect on the difficult job market out there, I continue to count the blessings of my employment. I have never been out of work since leaving college, and even better, I've always worked inside my intended career. However, things didn't start out so well. My first year out of school was trial by fire that I have never really been able to let go. Like many of the things I obsess over, I keep this experience with me every day.

As a character flaw, I'm quick to point out that I was never on the fast track to personal growth. With each passing year I reflect on how little I knew prior, and how I wish things could have been clearer for me. The only class I excelled in grade school was art, and it was the obvious path I should take. What exactly I should do in art was the trouble I had. I wasn't cracked enough in the head to be a fine artist, and I wasn't interested enough to teach. The only viable path was commercial art, and my high school teacher recommended the Graphic Design/Illustration program at Kent State University. I spent many years expecting that I would eventually just be an illustrator, and generally struggled with the graphic design portion of my degree. Eventually though, I began to have more confidence in my design, and it became clearer that this was going to be a more marketable skill once I left school. After being selected to be an intern at American Greetings, my confidence spiked, and I soared through a successful final year of college with the highest marks I had ever achieved.

When the job posting for a Graphic Designer at Cedar Point Amusement Park came to my attention, I thought that I had hit the jackpot. This was by far one of my favorite places to visit, and I knew my skill set would be perfect for them. I was over the moon when I got an interview, and accepted the job with no reservation. I had no idea the worst year of my life was about to begin.

The root problem of this job leads back the man that hired me and was to be my boss. Please let me start by clarifying that this is not a cliche "I hate my boss - stick it to the man" bunch of hooey. I've no desire to perpetuate commonality. His name was Paul. He was a gray man. There was no color to his skin. He was probably only in his 40s, but he looked 20 years older. His breath stank of cigarettes, his teeth stained with coffee. His eyes sagged in deep dark sockets. He carried himself like there were weights hung from his appendages. A living Jacob Marley who has already been assigned the eternal chains of damnation. As loathsome creature as you ever saw. It became clear right away that he was hated and feared by everyone. He was the abusive father to the suffering family that had no other choice to live with him and bear it. I was told he was a recovering alcoholic, which didn't as much help to explain his situation as it was to help further define his low level of humanity. I can't find a single solitary decent thing to say about the man. He was a failure as a human being. He sat in his cave of an office, spewing obscenities, making racist remarks, barking into the phone, and dressing down any unfortunate soul who crossed his path. Many managers in other departments refused to deal with him, some outright refused to speak to him. The ones that had to would seemingly lost days of their lives stressing over it. There was one woman who had pushed to the brink of severe mental illness. His negative energy hung over our dank office like the thousands of Seagulls who circled the parking lots. It took only one conversation for me to be completely rattled by him. He thrived with the thrill that he had such an effect on people.

I'm not going to I'm not going to continue on without making it clear that I am not without fault. I was as green as could be entering the job world. I have this ability to make all the mistakes you are usually told to avoid. Paul reminded me many times in my interview that I didn't know anything. I never felt that I proclaimed that I had, but he wanted to make sure that it was understood that I knew nothing. I was actually fine with that. I was ready to learn as much from this man as I could. The problem is, Paul didn't want to teach anything either. It's as if he never really wanted me to know anything. It was much easier for him to ridicule me and berate me if I had no knowledge. He had this uncanny ability to make me give him the wrong answer. He'd bait me into second guessing everything I knew to be correct. It was almost a game for him.

The other designer in the department was a small mouse of a woman. She was married to a park manager, some schlub who was being groomed for bigger and better things by being forced work non-stop from March to November. She had three children, none of whom she ever spoke warmly about. She was plain, neither attractive nor unattractive. She was an unfulfilled woman. The single joy of her week came on Friday afternoon when she would phone the guy who I replaced. The guy that I am told suffered through close to 7 years of Paul at his worst. I'm going to be so bold to suggest that these two had something on the side. It may have just been that survivor syndrome that forms a unbreakable bond between people after experiencing a traumatic event. I thought at first that I could confide in her, seeing that we were now in the same unfortunate situation under Paul. I was blind-sided by the fact that she wasn't as harmless as I perceived. When given the opportunity, she would lash out at me like a pit bull. A beaten and abused dog that was still loyal to its master. I guess I made her situation bearable by taking all focus off of her, and allowing her and Paul to have a common enemy.

One major issue was that I couldn't make two moves without having to ask one of them a question. The guy before did practically everything, and therefore they knew nothing. This guy didn't leave any directions either. I'm rather sure that the bristled responses I got were because they didn't want to own up to not knowing. Mouse lady spent most of her time on the phone for Tech support for Adobe Illustrator, mainly because she just didn't know how to use it. Paul caused a great deal of damage to his own machine because of his short fuse. So anytime I needed to know where a file was, or who to call for certain jobs, the chain of command, or be privy to one of the thousand park processes - I had to ask them. I started collecting my questions, because if I was going to get yelled at, I might as well get it all over with in bunches. I eventually got yelled at for doing that.

There was one particularly ugly day when they cornered me in a conference room and told me everything they didn't like about me. She screamed at me that I didn't listen, despite the fact that she never had any direction for me. They actually told me to lose my attitude, as if I was somehow doing something to wrong them. I'm reminded of the scene in Animal House where the one fraternity was paddling recruits, and they had to yell out with each swat "Thank you sir may I have another!" I can't describe how upsetting this was. Never have I been brought so close to tears in my professional life. I have never since encountered a situation where someone was belittled to a near breaking point, and I honestly can't imagine being near or a part of such thing now. I hate them both for that.

Having the coworkers closest to you making life hard is one thing, but then having the entire office location start in on you is another. I am embarrassed now to have not recognized sooner just how united the entire organization was against me. All the clues were there, I guess I wanted to think so much more of these people. The office admin would come in and regularly ask me If I liked what I was doing. She was hoping for any bit of negativity she could take back to the Office Manager, who would report directly to Paul. One of the the Paint Shop guys would just plainly ask me daily if I had gotten another job yet. I was particularly troubled by him, as I didn't remotely work with him. He got so disgusted with the concept of me he couldn't even eat in the break room with me. Even the park architect and his drafting assistant would be baited into being criticizing me, coming in with random comments about my work. I picture them now huddling in one of the front offices, plotting out new and innovative ways to make life difficult for me.

It was by far the lowest point I had ever reached. I felt like I couldn't just quit. All through college they warned you of tarnishing your resume with short stints. I had nothing else to compare the situation to, so I could only imagine it was like that everywhere. I also didn't want to fail, especially since this was my first job. My self esteem couldn't have been lower. I had to learn how to fight it, or I'd never get anywhere. I was becoming one of them. One of the lost souls who hated everything about their miserable existence. If I was such a terrible designer, why wasn't I ever fired? Why was I never asked to leave? It was because these zombies of the graveyard that is Sandusky, Ohio fed on the life that I had. I would have eventually lost every positive thing about my being. I set a mark of at least one year, and once I hit it - I looked for another job. Oddly enough, I was hired by the first place I interviewed at. Strange, since I was so inept and all.

I left with every shred of dignity I could muster, because If anything, I could at least be a better person about it. I gave my two weeks notice, and intended to give them every single hour of work up to that point - despite the fact the the new job needed me right away. I did everything by the book. The mouse woman asked me on my last day if I would remember them, perhaps expressing a slight pang of guilt. I gave some polite non-answer at the time, but if could answer her right now I would say this: "Yes - you've stayed with me every day of my career. I learned who I didn't want to be, and that was the only valuable thing you taught me."

Wrestlemania Predictions

The WWE presents their Super Bowl of Wrestling today, and as usual I am sucked in by the promise of spectacle. I really should be more cautious with my anticipation as the WWE has not been delivering a quality product worth the $65 pay-per-view price as of late. Last year’s 25^th anniversary should have been a classic to celebrate a quarter of century of Wrestlemania moments. Instead it was a lazy and predictable show with only one major highlight match.

Let’s start off with that match. Two of the WWE’s greatest performers met at Wrestlemania for the first time. Shawn Michaels and the Undertaker each have highlight reels full of notable and perhaps infamous moments. Both are reaching retirement age, but still managed to outshine every one else. The WWE was so happy with this match they decided to do it again. I guess my question is why? In my view, there is no good way for this to end. If Shawn Michaels wins, the hallowed WM winning streak of the Undertaker is over. If the Undertaker wins, then the Shawn Michaels legacy is perhaps damaged by not being able to achieve this goal. Does Michaels deserve the honor of ending the streak? I’m indifferent to it, because part of me feels he isn’t, but on the other hand he is the only one in the current locker room that deserves the honor. I’m not sure why the WWE has decided to paint itself into a corner with this one. I fear a trick ending that will not leave us feeling satisfied.

The one gimmick match that WWE needs to retire is the Money in the Bank Ladder Match – AKA “the full of wrestlers we don’t know what to do with but can’t leave them off the card” match. This match started years ago with only 6 performers, and it is now bloated to 10. This match has featured some incredible spots and bumps over the years, but one can only jump off the top of ladder so many different ways. Shelton Benjamin, Kane, Fat (Matt) Hardy, and MVP are all past their prime or push, and could all have been left off the card. Christian and Kofi Kingston deserve better matches. Let’s hope that the deserving young superstars making their first appearances can make this match memorable. Who wins? I still say Christian should win, and then challenge Edge at the end of his title match later in the evening. The WWE just isn’t brave enough for this bold of a move.

Edge came out of nowhere at the Royal Rumble, and that is possibly the best thing for this event. He takes on the current World Champion and WWE Most Valuable Player Chris Jericho. I have high hopes for these guys, and I hope they are given enough time to truly make an epic match. These two are in the prime of their careers, and this match could easily vault them into wrestling immortality. Edge will and should win.

The other title match could be John Cena’s first solid attempt at a decent WM moment. I’m not a big fan of Cena, and neither are a lot of older fans. We dislike him so much because we can’t seem to piece together why he is the most popular and recognizable star. For once though, he has a decent story going into the event against Batista. The WWE is picking up a storyline that is nearly 2 years old, which in today’s short-term memory booking is eons. Both Cena and Batista have never had a classic WM match, despite being in the main events on multiple occasions. They have a chance now to do something, but I certainly wouldn’t trust them to close the show. Cena will win to please the kids.

Every single past WM has had a special guest spot that is used to generate some press headlines. This year that person is Bret Hart. Hell froze over recently when Bret made a special appearance as the guest host of RAW. You have to hand it to Vince McMahon, he’ll bend over backwards for any angle to generate some attention for cash. These two old guys are slated to have a no-holds-barred match, but seeing as though they are both old men now, I’m guessing there is only going to be a lot of holding. Headlocks, punches, a few kicks to the gut, and a sharp shooter to end it all. This might actually be painful to watch. At least Bret gets one last strut down the ramp, which will make this whole match worth it.

I have to say I’m both shocked and maybe a little impressed that Triple H is not in the main event… AGAIN. Just before the Royal Rumble – it certainly seemed like we were headed down that road… AGAIN. Let’s just be honest – Triple H is a classic WWE performer, but he is no Hulk Hogan, Rick Flair, or even Shawn Michaels for that matter. He is a man who has played his political cards better than anyone, heck he even married the boss’s daughter. Is he a great wrestler? Yes? Does he deserve a spot on the card? Yes. He is exactly where he should be this year. Helping put over one of the WWE’s most impressive new products – Sheamus. HHH will win it - let’s just hope he has the generosity to elevate the Celtic Warrior some.

The rest of the matches are just filler. The Tag Team Title match features 4 guys with different speeds and styles – it may be uneven. CM Punk and Rey Mysterio are rehashing and old Rey/Eddie Guerro storyline. Randy Orton taking on Legacy is also a take on a classic “wrestling stable breaks apart” angle. The Divas may or may not be on the card to add a little jiggle to the event.

I expect to be surprised, so I am hoping that there is many a plan to swerve us well-informed fans. So please amaze us WWE. We know you have it in you.

How do you teach a baby to smile?

How do you teach a baby to smile? You are born with this incredible power to make another human being. You spend the greater percentage of your life looking to mate. Some have an easier time procreating, while others must spend a great deal of time and money. You go through this tremendous mental preparation similar to that one Creed song. You turn your world upside down for 9 months, and then completely flip it over 3 or 4 more times after birth. You are charged with nurturing this child to enhance development. You read books, read web sites, and get opinions from everyone from family to the grocery checkout lady. You make countless trips to the store, and you buy only the best things you can afford. You clean and feed this child day in and day out. You do what you can, even if you aren’t going to ever win parent of the year. You commit yourself to sharing with them everything you know about life. You promise to not let them make the same mistakes. You hope to shield them from the evils of the world, but give them enough space to find their place in it. You pray that you’ll do it right.

So how do you teach a baby to smile? You can’t, and that is just the way it is.

The single most pure thing a human being can do is just inherent in our structure. You look at them one day and they just beam at you. You can only encourage them to do it again. You turn into a lunatic with goofy faces, voices, and songs just to have it happen again. This baby knows no fear, angst, or hardship. Sure they cry, but that is a somewhat involuntary reaction to their needs. They don’t have to smile, they just do. Your world becomes so small when this happens. Everything in your small bubble makes sense.

You can’t teach a baby to smile, but you can learn a lot from theirs.

Nicknames

I had a good laugh recently from two messages from former colleagues that are addressed to me with a nickname. I think at some point everyone wants a good nickname. There is a whole Seinfeld episode around George’s decision to be called “T-bone.” As it happened in the episode, a nicknames is not usually not decided by you, it is assigned to you by others. Good or bad, a nickname can stick to you forever.

Having the most popular name in my generation, I was often assigned nicknames because there are always too many Mike’s around. I never like being called Ireland, and I guess it never catches on due to my indifference to it. My pal Melissa is the only person I allow to call me Ireland, and it is only because of the acerbic way she says it.

Naming conventions all began with my father. In addition to the legal name given to me, I was also dubbed the M.E. Kid, and the Monkey Man. Dad had names for everyone. David was Big-D, Chris was the Welpish One, and the cat was affectionately referred to as The Beast. We’re also ranked in order when introducing us, which makes me #2. Yeah. Ew. Dad even titled himself, though none of us have ever actually called him Pap.

My earliest memory of a nicknames not handed out by my Father was this kid at Summer Camp called Moose. I remember everyone really enjoyed calling him Moose, and he was quite popular for it. Like most nicknames, I have no idea what his real name was. I envied him for this alternative title. Desiring any and all positive attention, I had hoped that someone would give me a great nickname someday.

That first real nickname that I longed for turned out to be not so great. My clever classmates decided that I was to be called Booger-nose 1 or 2. The 1 or 2 varied by the day, since they also decided this name was perfect for Brian Bosley, and I don’t think there was ever a consistent clarification. I’m near positive there was more equally disparaging names, but for whatever reason this one sticks with me.

My track record did not improve while in Middle School. I was not an athlete, but I did play softball. It wasn’t unusual for kids to wear their team jerseys to school, and since this was the only sport I participated in, I wanted to wear mine. The problem was, my jersey was powder blue and the corporate sponsored team name was A.D.S. – which I’m not sure I ever knew what that stood for. I should have known better I guess. These two knuckleheads in one class decided that stood for AIDS. I can’t remember any of the names of some of the few supportive teachers and friends from middle school, but I will always remember Desi Mathis and Mike Ruckel. I can’t express to you how much I hate that fact, and I only wish them the very worst in their lives.

Having spent much of my life being victimized for my sensitivity and lack of developed social skills, I grew very protective of any information that might lead to any and all teasing. When the members of my Boy Scout troop asked what my middle initial E stood for, I would not tell them. I’m not sure why, but I’ve always hated Edward as my middle name. It never sounded right to me, and I hated my parents for giving me this dumb middle name. My plan held up until they decided to guess my name…which turned up Eugene. I couldn’t comprehend how an E name could get worse, but it did. I spent the greater part of three years as Eugene. Our Troop was rich in nicknames, and other guys were known as The Monk, Reverend Tyron, Shag-Bag and Ewok among a variety of other socially unacceptable names.

I was finally given a positive, but mostly puzzling, nickname while working my part-time job in high school. Chris Krueger started calling me Jerusalum, for no other reason than he just like saying it. It stuck for quite awhile, and it became more of chant later on when they would see me perform on stage. By then I was at least brash enough to hand out my own nicknames to others. My favorites were The Schmoo and Heavy D.

My favorite nickname of all time belongs to one of my oldest friends, and I was there when it was given to him. Like Mike – Dan was a popular name – and we had three Dan’s working set crew for our Drama Club in High School. Dan Chin informed us that his given Chinese name was actually Bokman (pronounced Bok-mun). The elder Dan of the group then suggested we call Mr. Chin “Mun”, and the rest is history. He actually goes by this name today, I hardly think anyone even knows his name is Dan anymore.

I always loved how the guys in Animal House had nicknames assigned to them, so when I got to college I took it upon myself to start naming random people. Spaz and Scooter seemed to stick, but Meatball didn’t catch on. As usual, there was another Mike, and his last name was O’Brien. He was a guy who didn’t have much to say, and what he did say was in monotone. I can’t take credit for it, but we started calling “O.” Best. Nickname. Ever.

In the last ten years or so I’ve had one great nickname that only two people share with me. Two interns that worked with me at Starta-G call me Mikatron. This name is as awesome as the laser canon mounted on the forearm of the evil Decepticon Megatron who inspires this name. The great thing about talking to either of these two is that we have no use for first names. I barely remember that their real names are Chris and Cathy, as they have been called Krig, Kriggity, Loops, Cheese, Meredith, Baby, and Money.

I haven’t come up with a good nickname for my daughter Mia yet. I guess I should honor my Father and present her with some sort of “handle” (that is cool CB talk for the uniformed). Maybe I’ll just let him suggest one.

And the Oscar goes to…

It has been ten years since I’ve gotten together to watch Oscar night, and compete with my good pals Chad and Melissa. Award shows, especially the Oscars, rank right up there with my guilty pleasures of Pro Wrestling, “Large animals eating people” movies, and 80s newspaper comic strips.

I like to think of myself as a fan of film, but year and year out I am lucky actually see maybe two or three nominated films at the Academy Awards. This year was no different, I saw Avatar, Up, Julie & Julia… and ah, Transformers 2, GI Joe… OK I’m ashamed with myself. I really would like to see most of the films nominated, eventually…

Still, without seeing any of these films, I developed an uncanny ability to predict the winners in all categories. I should make my formula a future blog, but then I wouldn’t want my competition to gain any more ground on me. I did miss 5 categories this year, which is actually a good year. I’ve never gotten them all right… yet.

Here is a random selection of thoughts from the broadcast:

Neil Patrick Harris is going to be the host next year. He has this new second career as the hip go-to awards show guy.

Was George Clooney in on the joke? It was either too well played, or he really did hate being joked with.

I like Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin, and I think they did an OK job. Not classic, better than Martin’s singular efforts from year’s past. However, their timing is a little off with their well-crafted characters they portray themselves as. Still the Paranormal Activity and Snuggie bits were funny.

I still wouldn’t mind if they dusted off Billy Crystal and brought him back.

What is with some of these gowns? I have zero fashion sense, but even I can pick out the poor ladies that are going to end up on the worst dressed lists. On the plus side, you could house earthquake victims in the poof of some of these skirts… was that insensitive? Why do they bother grading the men? How hard is it to but a tux together? Oh wait, I see that Sean Penn still has trouble dressing himself.

Remember when Cameron Diaz was supposed to be this comedic revelation? I don’t either. Steve Carell is still not funny.

Why is Jude Law the butt of so many Oscar jokes?

Ben Stiller is still not funny.

Hooray, Robert Downey Jr. is funny! Tina Fey should be appointed the head comedy writer of the world.

If you aren’t prepared to make a speech, and are uncomfortable doing so, why not let your fellow winner say something instead of wasting 45 seconds to stammer through a barely cohesive thank you.

Where was Jack Nicholson? Was there a Laker game last night?

Like most folks, I think the John Hughes tribute was fantastic. It is unfortunate that he was too many years away from the obligatory Honorary Oscar that they give to influential filmmakers who aren’t recognized enough in their time because their films don’t meet the snobby award-worthy standard, His films might have been considered larks at the time, but they ended up being powerful statements of a generation of youth.

Seating James Cameron behind his ex-wife and eventual winner Kathryn Bigelow was a stroke of genius. That arrangement right there told you how the evening was going to end in favor of the Hurt Locker.

Does Kristen Stewart have even an ounce of personality? How has this bland, bored, and sullen chick become a noted actress in Hollywood.

Did the producers of that excessively long dance number celebrating the best score winners even see the nominated films. I mean, what was going on? Why was a guy doing the robot for Up? Um, that was Wall-E, and that was last year.

When I first saw Jeff Bridges in the Big Lebowski, I thought – wow, this is quite a stretch for this guy. I mean, he always seemed to play these strong, clean cut, have-it-all-together types. But man, I can see that he isn’t at all far removed form the Dude, man. Man! Also kudos for rocking the General Custer facial hair on the most notable night of your career, man.

Helen Miren is HOT.

Every year, the Oscars must have a Belle of the Ball, and this year it was Sandra Bullock’s turn. Was she the most deserving actress to win? No. But she is a movie star, and movie stars should have Oscars. She was by far one of the more gracious winners of the award season. She even showed up to win Worst Actress at the annual Razzies the night before. I have to tell you, that’s all class.

All this effort to shorten the broadcast, and yet it stills slugs on past midnight.

And the winner for blink-and-you-miss-it major award announcement goes to Tom Hanks. Maybe he had to rush home to pay the sitter.

I have no idea if Hurt Locker was better than Avatar or even the 8 other nominees. I will say that Avatar was a beautifully crafted film and a marvel of technology, but the story was pedestrian at best for James Cameron. All the themes, situations, and characters have appeared before in much better films. For a Best Picture winner, I expect a fully realized effort, not just a pretty one.

Pixar Top 10

Let me start off by saying that this is a somewhat unnecessary exercise. I am in love with all the films that Pixar has produced, and ranking them is like choosing your favorite child. You still know your favorite… you just don’t ever say it out loud. After a recent purchase of a CD collection of music from the Pixar movies, I’ve spent a lot of time assessing the profound wonder of each of them. How can one fathom the sustained level of quality that this “little production company that could” continues to achieve. It is the equivalent of pitching a perfect game in ten innings. So after a little soul searching, I’ve gone ahead and made some tough decisions.

10. A Bug’s Life

I already feel bad for having to rank this happy little film last. Pixar’s sophomore effort had the unenviable task of following the breakthrough success of Toy Story. It also suffered from the unfortunate timing of a similar insect themed movie “Antz” from upstart rival Dreamworks. With all the challenges it faced, it is still a crisp and colorful lark. If Toy Story laid the foundation for all to follow, it was A Bug’s Life that solidified the structure.

9. Ratatouille

Can you just imagine the pitch for this movie? Would any studio in their right mind even consider the concept? The main character is a rat… who lives in France… and oh - he loves to cook. This is the best example of Pixar showing no fear, and that a quality story is the best marketable value. This film also reinforces the fact that Pixar movies are for everyone to enjoy at any age, and not to just pander to children.

8. Cars

A love letter to a slice of Americana – celebrating our fascination with automobiles, the love of the open road, and the pockets of community that make up the pit stops along the way. Not the most groundbreaking story to come out of the Pixar canon, but it chock full of the heart and themes of friendship and responsibility that is the hallmark of this studio.

7. Monsters Inc.

This is a film of textures, many that we hadn’t seen before in a computer animated film. The big blue monster Sully was a breakthrough at the time with his thick coat of flowing fur. This was also the first completely made up setting for Pixar, with everything from the citizens to the architecture of the monster world cleverly envisioned. There is almost too much to take in some cases. Quite a task for sure, but yet infused with a great deal of fun. Everything from the character banter, to the soundtrack, to the whimsical opening credits keeps you grinning the whole way through.

6. The Incredibles

To date this is Pixar’s only foray into the action movie realm. Let’s be quite plain about this – there is nothing in this film that we haven’t seen before. We’ve seen this type of family dysfunction, the James Bond villain type island fortress, and even the super powers the characters have are lifted from existing comic heroes. What made this film fresh was the combination of these elements and then making them work better. We can relate to each character through their super powers: the Mom who is stretched too thin, the teen daughter who’d rather disappear in her insecurity, the rambunctious youthful energy of the son. Balance this with a great deal of kick-butt action, and you have one heck of a roller coaster ride.

5. Finding Nemo

This feature film is as vast and deep as the ocean itself. More than the rest, this film feels truly alive, with the waves and currents keeping every screen element in motion. This is the best of Pixar’s environments, and it is a wonderful place to visit.

4. Wall-E

Somewhere in the middle of this environmental statement a delightful little love story happened. Not exactly love in the romantic sense, but love of all the things we take for granted. A man-made object not programmed to do anything but stack garbage finds a way to fall in love with everything around him. We can be so pampered and attended to with all the innovations and corporate distractions that rule our existence. We don’t spend enough time embracing the love of clean air, warm sunshine, the comfort of physical contact, and what it is like to just be smitten with someone.

2 & 3 (tie) Toy Story 1 & 2

The argument on which of these movies is superior to other is like trying to justify if the Empire Strikes Back is better than Star Wars: A New Hope. Toy Story 2 is clearly more polished at every level, but it hard to overcome the magic of the very first computer animated film. Friendship is a strong theme in all the Pixar films, but it is on no better display in this tale of play things left unattended. The matching of familiar voices to iconic toys was inspired, and these have become some of the most beloved characters on film. A movie about talking toys could have easily been… plastic. The triumph of these films is perspective: from a toy’s eye view of the world around us, and from how our movie viewing experience has changed forever.

1. Up

This is a beautiful film. The first ten minutes alone takes you on an emotional journey through the life of a sweet married couple. No words – just shared moments of joy and pain that will make your heart ache. It is hard to call this a high concept film, since it is actually so wonderfully simple. This film is a portrait of expression. You can add all the whiz-bang 3D effects that you want, but the true technological marvel is in the fluid emotions on display. The emotions subtly crafted on both mature and young faces – even the blank expression of Dug the guard dog is a stroke of artistic genius. This film is only the second movie to be nominated for the Best Picture Oscar. Some might note that its inclusion was due to the list of nominees being expanded to ten films, though I would argue it would have still been nominated with only five.

Funny Part 1 – the Grade School Years.

I’ve always wanted to be funny. Even before I ever understood why some people were funny, I always greatly admired anyone who could make people laugh. These were people that folks gravitated towards, and demanded the best kind of attention. I longed for that kind of attention.

Robin Williams was somebody I was fascinated with when I was a youth. Here was this man who was so wonderfully odd, so manic, and so much different than other adults. I was so impressed with this guy who made a fool of himself and was allowed to be on TV because of it. It was difficult for me to translate his craft of obnoxiousness into my own life. I just came across as… well obnoxious.

I always wanted to tell a good joke. There were kids in my class who always had good jokes to tell. Many of them were just plain vile, or at least as vile as we understood them at the time. Others were just clever word plays, or punchlines. I suffered from a mix of attention deficit and just plain being dense, so I could never commit these jokes to memory. If I did manage to latch on to a joke or two, I imagine they were butchered beyond the intended humor.

A better comedic outlet for me became puppet shows that I would perform for anyone patient enough to allow me to do it. My family was a huge fan of the Muppet Show. It was one of the few shows we would sit down and equally enjoy. Not enough people really appreciate the genius that is Jim Henson, and how his show simple enough for children to love yet sophisticated enough for adults to embrace. My puppet shows weren’t as well crafted. They had no scripts, no real direction, and very little story. Just a lot of blather until one puppet hit another, and that would trigger the laughter I so desired. This really became my “thing” while in grade school, and outside of my other artistic endeavors, it was one of the few things I was recognized for.

As much as I wanted to throw out the zingers, I could never actually take them myself. I was so very sensitive to people picking on me. This is what led to one of my greatest embarrassments. Our Cub Scout Pack was going to have a Gong Show event. The group of us kids would get up there with our respective talents and be judged by a panel of notable nobodies. “You’re probably going to do a stupid puppet show aren’t you Ireland” taunted one of my fellow Weeblos. I had to of course counter back with the standard defense, “NO.” Truth be told, I really would have rather done a puppet show, but I felt I could do my own thing. I was going to get up in front of these people and do my own act. It would be hilarious. I had this great idea that I would call some notable nobody up from the audience and I would prod them with various questions. Based on their response I would make some sort of sarcastic remark and let the hilarity pour forth. I might even hold up a sign to the side with some sarcastic remark like Bugs Bunny would do when fooling with Elmer Fudd. It was a fantastic idea. So right before I am to go on, I try to explain to the Emcee this high concept that I’m about to do. “So you’re trying to be a Comedian?” he asks. Yes. Yes indeed. I like that. I was going to be a Comedian. I was announced as such, and I went out in front of an auditorium full of families. I asked the Scoutmaster to come forward as my first victim. Our dialogue over the next few minutes included the annoying back and forth Hello, Hello, Hello (always a grade school crowd-pleaser), my trying to make a joke out of the fact that he was a carpenter (Do you lay carpets? Clever), and of course my sign (probably too small for anyone to read). Needless to sang the gong rang after that. Out of 10 or 12 acts, I was the only one that got gonged.

I would say that was the first time I really understood embarrassment. I felt that since my heart was into it, that I could just be naturally funny. I remember my father dispensing wisdom on the subject. He went on about how even the best comedians like Jack Parr (Who?) would have been better prepared with material. I remember asking my Mom sincerely if I could stay home the next day. She said “no.”

Oddly enough, I didn’t let it get it to me for too many years. After getting a ventriloquist dummy one Christmas, I entered myself into a talent show. This time I prepared myself with collected material. I fashioned a darn good little act, and performed it for the whole school. The following is my best joke from the act:

Dummy: I think I see my teacher out there
Me: Really? Where is she?
Dummy: You see that really pretty woman in the back row with the blue eyes, blond hair, and beautiful smile?
Me: Yeah! Wow, is that your teacher?
Dummy: NO – it’s the ugly woman sitting next to her.

It took minutes for the crowd to calm down. Minutes. It made me feel funny… in a good way of course.