David Andrew Jaffe's Blog, page 11

7 Ways to Increase Television Mediocrity

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I love mindless entertainment as much as the next guy. But let’s be honest: A lot of the stuff just isn’t so great.

A lot is a workshop in mediocrity, a concept I’d like to explore today.

The Background Show

I have recently embraced a type of TV show perfect for certain situations. I call them background shows.

What’s a background show?

It’s a show that is entertaining enough that it’s fun to have on in the background while doing other things. But it’s not good or clever enough that it demands all that much of my attention. So it’s perfect to have going while washing dishes, folding laundry, or stretching. But I wouldn’t call any of these shows particularly good, nor would I recommend them to just about anybody.

And it’s always ideal that the show has lots of episodes, so it’ll last a while and I won’t have to spend much time looking for the next method to completely zone out and do the mundane.

After doing this long enough, I feel like I have learned way too much about the secrets to mediocrity., since these show excel at mediocrity. If you want to know how to make a show that will never cross the threshold from “meh” to fantastic, read on.

1) Mediocrity and the Existential Threat

Some shows never give you a chance to breathe. Every moment is an existential threat, and it starts to feel old. Real quick.

A great example of a mediocre show I “watched” while doing other things was Suits.

I apologize to any lawyer folk out there, but I find it a bit hard to believe that law can be this thrilling and exciting all the time. Especially corporate law. But I find it even harder to believe that multiple times a year your firm can be facing extinction.

How often can someone be out to destroy everything you’ve done to build up your company? How often are mistakes made that threaten your existence and might leave half the firm disbarred?

I’m going to go out on a limb here and assuming it’s not so often at all.

I understand that things need to get wild and crazy to make a legal drama interesting; however, if your topic is not all that thrilling… maybe it’s a sign that you should pick a different topic.

2) Too Much Story, Not Enough Character

I seem to keep stumbling upon shows that focus too much attention on the story, and forget that the characters need to have distinct (and interesting) personalities as well.

Any show is going to made up of the unique interactions of all those involved with the story. In all honesty, if the characters are great and interesting, and the dynamic between them is flowing and fantastic, the story becomes less important.

But if the dull and utterly unmemorable characters of Locke And Key or Manifest are just robots clunking around through a mediocre storyline, you’ve created a one-way path toward mediocrity.

3) Everything is Shiny and New in the Realm of Mediocrity

Shows also add to their lack of believability by making everything a big deal, and everything some wild new innovative experience.

For example, in the Good Doctor, where every day they’re doing some groundbreaking surgery that’s never been considered before.

And yes, I suppose if they didn’t do this, the show would feel extremely repetitive. They can’t just remove someone’s appendix every episode. But if every time they’re doing things bizarre and out of the ordinary, at some point it starts to feel forced and wildly unrealistic.

4) Lost… Like Lost

A common problem I see is a lack of direction. I’m not saying a show needs to be mapped out from start to finish. Nor am I saying the writers should remain rigid to all ideas they have. In fact, the ability to be malleable could have turned some rubies out there into diamonds. How I Met Your Mother was a very funny sitcom infamous for one of the worst endings in television history. And this came about because the writers stuck with the vision of an ending they conceived at the outset, one that no longer worked after nine long seasons of the show’s development.

Nevertheless, if we learned anything from the phenomenon turned dumpster fire known as Lost, a show needs to have some level of direction. Otherwise it feels like the characters are just running in useless circles, nothing makes any sense, enormous plot holes are repeatedly exposed, and when the show is forced to end, it will likely be uber-disappointing. Yes, I’m looking at you The 100.

5) Adding the Useless and the Inane

In addition, when a show has no direction, it will often introduce things that have no place. It could be new plot points, or characters, or something completely ridiculous, like an escaped tiger. But once that element is introduced, we’re all stuck with it until they decide to get rid of it.

But it creates bizarre, disjointed plots. And I have no idea why the writers don’t try and think these things out in advance. I mean, they’re the ones who will now be stuck trying to make their silly show work. Why wouldn’t they want to think where it could all be headed?

Perhaps it’s a lack of creativity. Or just an unfortunate end of ideas.

6) Deja Vu

And speaking of a lack of creativity and a dearth of ideas… I feel if you watch long enough, you’re bound to see plots repeated again and again.

I can’t tell you how many times I’m watching something and I think, “Gee, I’ve already seen this.” When a show is getting stale, it’s time to pack it up and get out of there.

Even the greatest shows will eventually start spinning wheels. It’s better to recognize when you have nothing left to give than to just start rehashing plots of other shows.

7) Going a Little Too Far

Finally, most shows are just slight variations on previous shows. The Good Doctor is a typical medical drama, but one of the surgeons happens to be autistic. Imagine what would happen if that character left the show. It would have absolutely nothing to distinguish it from the endless episodes of other medical dramas.

It would be like carrying on the Walking Dead after they completely cured whatever was causing the zombie disease. Then it’s just a show about angry southerners, without anything to hold a viewer’s interest.

Yet, some shows will eliminate the thing that made the show worth watching in the first place, and just keep going like there’s any point.

Suits was about a fraudulent lawyer. He was caught, imprisoned, released… and then became a real lawyer. Which then made the show just some corny legal drama, about a corporate law firm. Fascinating…

Designated Survivor was about an unlikely person who ended up president after the elected president and all of those in line to succeed him were killed in an attack. There was turmoil. We need to catch the people who did this!

And then they did… and we’re just left with a silly political drama with absolutely nothing separating it from any other show.

I can carry on forever.

There are endless things that can make a show wallow in forever mediocrity. I don’t get it. I don’t get why you would create a show if you aren’t at least attempting to make something amazing. Why create a work of art just because you need to spit something out? Do you have no shame? No integrity?

Why fill the world with nonsense?

Or are you just trying to make it so I don’t really care all that much about your mediocre program as I scrub a few dishes? (In which case… thank you.)

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The Search for Knowledge: To What End?

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One of my greatest passions is the acquisition of knowledge. I just love knowing stuff. I love diving down a rabbit hole and exploring a topic until I’m bored with it. I enjoy searching for the right book or books on a topic and reading them from cover to cover, trying to figure out what the heck is really going on with the subject at hand.

And I have enough interests to keep me on my toes for the rest of my life.

The Philosophical Conundrum

But recently I’ve been consumed with a philosophical conundrum. It’s hardly unique, and it goes way beyond my love of reading and exploring.

What’s the point of any of this?

And I don’t know how to find an answer that satisfies me.

If the world is godless, and we just one day die and it all ends there, any knowledge aquired along the way dies with you. You could, of course, pass the knowledge along to others. But then you can just say it will die with them as well. And it’s just endless cyclical logic. I’d be aquiring knowledge for the sake of passing it to others… so they could pass it to others. But it never finds a home where meaning is created.

And if at any point along the way, the knowledge isn’t passed along or it’s disproven, the endeavor would retroactively cease to be important anyway.

Generational Wealth

Perhaps there is evidence in this that the goal shouldn’t be knowledge, but rather generational wealth.

But how would that work?

You earn capital, in order to live the life you want to live, and pass that on to those who come after, and hopefully to as many future generations as well.

But to what end?

Is comfort and financial satisfaction the be-all and end-all of life’s goals? Perhaps. But I would like to think that there’s more out there. For all of us.

And it feels so flawed.

What if I start the next Apple, and live in utter comfort for the rest of my years in this world? And my children are all set, and they live out their days in peace and prosperity. Can it last forever? Is there even such a thing?

The company could go belly up in a generation or two, leaving my descendants with nothing but the hardships of picking up the pieces of a lost business. And even if they have enough to be comfortable for a while, they are now left with no guarantee for their descendants, and thus everyone’s back where they started.

Not to mention the fact that it’s very hard for me to believe that meaning in this world is created through acquiring things. Our purpose here on God’s green earth is… to have the nicest cars and televisions, and to spend our time with the wealthiest friends we can find.

I would like to believe the world desires more from us than this.

The Desire for Knowledge and Wealth

And yet I seek both knowledge and generational wealth. I want to know literature, languages, and history. And I want to live in comfort, never worried about where my next day’s meal will come from. And I want to pass the desire for knowledge and the serenity that comes with prosperity on to as many future generations as possible.

And I want to be able to do this for as long as possible, hence an oftentimes seemingly futile search for perfect health.

It feels futile for two reasons:

First, no matter how hard you try, it never seems to work. I mean, I exercise and eat well, and I’ve worked really hard to conquer a number of lingering health issues. But it’s like playing Wack-A-Mole with the body. Every time you think you’re making progress, another thing pops up to cause you grief and frustration.

Even as I write this, I feel a sharp pain in my calf that just started this morning. Will I be able to walk my dog later or go to the gym? Or has my whole day just been overturned, despite all my efforts to always maintain some level of optimum health?

Health… to What End?

But much more than that, what’s the ultimate goal? Even if you are the healthiest version of yourself, the best you can hope to eke out is an additional ten years or so. And that’s assuming you don’t just get smacked with bad luck. Cancer or a car accident can take you out, no matter how many push-ups you do or how much broccoli you consume.

And in the words of Ricky Gervais, “Yeah, but those are the worst years.” He quips about how he has no interest in extending the “bad years” of his life… but would glady enjoy another round of his twenties.

So there’s more wheel spinning.

We work day and night to earn money to pay bills and to hopefully pass it on to others so they can start the cycle again. We read and absorb wisdom to watch it die along with us. And we labor relentlessly to hopefully extend the experience for as long as possible.

But no matter what way I look at things, whether they be my pursuits or the pursuits of others, I can’t seem to escape the logic that it all seems to be for nothing.

Animals and the Creator

Animals don’t have these philophical conundrums. They find food and eat it. And they do it all day long, and then start over the next day.

The possibility exists that we’re just a more sophisticated version. Our worldy pleasures extend far beyond just eating scraps off the floor. On top of every worldy comfort that exists, we also seek meaning.

I believe in God. I always have, despite an ever-changing view of what that means, and how deeply it affects my life. But I can’t help but think how important a deep faith could be when faced with questions like mine. Perhaps God’s existence can answer all of these problems.

What if all words and actions throughout our lives served one straightforward purpose, to serve a Creator? And thus meaning can easily be applied to everything, positive or negative, in answer to one simple question: Does what I’m doing accomplish this goal, serving God?

On paper, it’s conceptually so simple. In reality, nothing can be harder. One cannot feign belief. Nor can one bolster belief without massive contemplation and life circumstances pointing in that direction.

One cannot feign belief.
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And I’d like to think all these questions have answers even without placing a deity over oneself. Why shouldn’t meaning and purpose be part of our lives without something supernatural telling us what we’re supposed to do?

Perhaps I’ll never find answers to my questions. Perhaps they don’t even exist.

But in a world filled with ever-present problems, from bills to bumps and bruises, philosophical pain was certainly not on my to-do list.

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Star Wars, Indiana Jones, and Mona Lisa’s Mustache

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Recently I watched episodes 2 and 3 of Star Wars, not because of desire, but because my son pushed really hard and I caved. I very intentionally resisted for two decades, and now that I watched these films, I want to go back and un-watch them.

The Canon of My Youth

I have a lot of trouble experiencing movies and television outside of what I consider the canon of my youth.

My fears of having my youthful nostalgia damaged all started back to my excitement at going to see the fourth Indiana Jones movie. I grew up with Temple of Doom and I absolutely loved what they did with The Last Crusade. (Last!)

So it’s no wonder that when faced with the possibility of continuing that excitement, I jumped at the opportunity. I mean, who wouldn’t?

To call what I felt next disappointment just doesn’t cut it.

Aliens!?

It was like taking one of the greatest movie franchises of all time and vomiting all over it. But it’s even worse than that.

I watched the movie, bored out of my mind and annoyed for two hours, only to say in the end, “Aliens? Really? Aliens!?”

The franchise not only decided to crap all over my youth, but to then light it in on fire and dance away giggling with my lunch money in its clutches.

And after that moment, I developed a fear of Hollywood grabbing a hold of pieces of my youth, and irreparably damaging my nostalgia and imagination.

And they are quite consistent about it.

There are movies out there that are borderline perfect, like Annie or Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. But Hollywood could never leave well enough alone. There’s money to be made!

And before we know it, Annie and the Karate are black, Cameron Diaz and Johnny Depp have replaced the inimitable Carol Burnett and Gene Wilder, and someone out there is laughing all the way to the bank while I sit at home pondering how they in good conscious could do this to something so precious to so many people.

I developed a fear of Hollywood grabbing a hold of pieces of my youth, and irreparably damaging my nostalgia and imagination.
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What About Little Shop of Horrors?

Sometimes a remake is OK. Most don’t even realize that Little Shop of Horrors is a remake of the unwatchable original. Funnily enough, my parents had a VHS of the original. It mentioned Jack Nicholson in giant letters across the front. Why? Because it was the only way they could sell such a bad film… despite the gross misrepresentation. Nicholson appeared in the film way before he achieved fame, he had one line, and maybe was in the movie for about four seconds.

But this is very different. In this situation, they remade a movie that was ripe for remaking. No one had seen the original, nor should they have. It wasn’t good. It was not a classic. It was an integral part of the youthful adoration of movies of exactly no one.

So in this case, they took potential and turned it into something great.

Not so with Annie or the others. There it was taking a Rembrandt and replacing it with some kid’s refrigerator-bound preschool sketch monstrosity. And adding another abysmal Indiana Jones film was scrawling a mustache on the Mona Lisa.

Hyperbole?

Perhaps.

But not to the emotional effect it can have upon someone.

Not My Darth Vader

You see, yes, the original Star Wars movie was episode four. And inherently there is something odd, if not wrong about that.

But putting the numbers aside, the fact is that there is something very special about letting your imagination fill in the gaps. I had twenty years of imagining the history of Darth Vader, the most intense, savage, and badass character in the original trilogy.

And now it’s been tainted. Now he’s a whiny teenage boy whose character arc happened way too quickly. Now he’s a child killer who became obsessed with Natalie Portman. Now he’s the guy who was burnt up by lava shortly before shouting a childish “I hate you” and before he screamed an extraordinarily stereotypical “Noooo” upon finding out said Portman was dead.

What a damaging blow to my imagination!

This is not the Darth Vader I had imagined since I was a child, and now my perspective will forever be tainted.

But What About Cobra Kai?

Now, I say all of this with a level of confusion.

While I was watching this movie, we are in the middle of also watching the fifth season of Cobra Kai. And, admittedly, I approached the show with great caution. I feared it would be the stupid Indiana Jones thing all over again.

But I was surprised and quite pleased when I discovered I actually enjoyed the show. A lot, in fact.

It certainly has its faults, and definitely needs to end already. But something about the show took nostalgia of the past and instead of damaging it, actually added to its legacy.

Fans of the series could never have imagined a future in which Daniel LaRusso’s enemies from the first two movies were walking along reminiscing about the different ways they tormented poor Daniel San. And yet here we have it. The sequel we never knew we wanted until we had it.

What’s the Difference?

So why does one damage my nostalgia and the other one provoke it? Why do Star Wars and Indiana Jones and Annie put me on edge, whereas I get super excited seeing all of these characters from my youth as adults?

Well, first and foremost, I’m not quite sure.

But if I had to guess, there are two factors:

First, it’s an issue of quality.

Forgetting Star Wars

I didn’t like the Star Wars movies, and I absolutely loathed the fourth Indiana Jones movie. Both Annie and Willy Wonka were tacky and unnecessary remakes of classic films that should not have been made. Perhaps if I found any of these remotely enjoyable, it would change my perspective.

The other possibility is whether or not the movies stay true to the originals, and don’t cause any damage to the characters I’ve come to know and love.

Fact is, Cobra Kai didn’t mess with how I felt about the characters from my childhood. Rather, they creatively enhanced how I look at them. The Star Wars movies, on the other hand, I’m trying to forget them so I can go back to thinking about the characters the way I used to.

It’s a major responsibility to mess with people’s youthful nostalgia. Not one to be taken lightly at all.

And those who abuse that responsibility are doing the world a disservice, all to gain a buck. Instead, you’re just damaging legacies.

And there’s nothing OK with that.

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Anthony ‘Rumble’ Johnson: Bleeding for my Entertainment

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They sweat and bleed for my entertainment!

I was shocked going to bed just after hearing the tragic announcement that Anthony ‘Rumble’ Johnson was taken from this world at just 38 years of age.

Who are celebrities to me?

I’m not a big celebrity guy. Some people will follow celebrities around. Others hunt for their autographs. Some will even fight for the opportunity to touch their shoulder!

And, of course, many spend an inordinate amount of time learning about the intricacies of their lives.

But usually I couldn’t care less.

Celebrities are just human folk who somehow ended up in the spotlight. They’re not better than you or me. In many cases, they are even much, much worse.

The Waiter and the Taxi Driver

But they do a job. And thus should be appreciated like anyone else who does a job well. When someone waits your table or drives your taxi with expertise and a friendly face, it impacts your day, makes you smile, and leaves you with a great feeling. It’s certainly reason enough to express your appreciation.

Thanking them for their excellent service is really nice. A sweet tip might be even better. A praising word to their superior takes things to the next level.

But repaying quality with kindness is standard.

And there’s no reason this shouldn’t apply to a celebrity as well. If someone’s amazing talent caused me to laugh and cry as I watched them on the big screen, I should tell the world about it. I sholud write an amazing review of the movie and that actor’s portrayal. And I should have a feeling in my heart that this person is something special, a fond recognition that they are really good at their craft.

Why wouldn’t I? It’s their job, it impacts my life, and they did it to perfection.

No, they are not gods. And I don’t feel a need to fawn over them in a restaurant or learn about what they eat for breakfast. I just appreciate what they do, much like I appreciate the person who gave me superb service at Home Depot.

Celebrity Deaths

So celebrity deaths have always been a confusing phenomenon for me.

On one hand, it’s just a regular person who passed away. People die every day, and if I felt sadness for all of them, I wouldn’t be able to live my life. Even if I saw a show they were in or enjoyed one of their songs, doesn’t mean feelings well up inside me.

They didn’t know me. Our lives didn’t cross paths. We didn’t exchange thoughts over a cold beer or embrace with joy when my son was born.

They’re just regular people I don’t know.

Petty and Williams

There have been exceptions over the years. I was definitely saddened to learn I would never enjoy the comedy of Norm Macdonald again. He was certainly something extremely special.

And I was filled with a deep sense of sadness at the passing of Tom Petty and, of course, Robin Williams. I remember learning about the latter’s death and then telling my kids all about him. We ended up watching Mrs. Doubtfire together.

I don’t really know when a celerbrity’s passing is something that makes me frown and then just continue on with my day, and when I will feel like I need to actually mourn the loss.

I guess sometimes it simply hits me somewhere. My appreciation for their art is so strong, I almost feel like I have a connection to them. And when death pulls me away from that connection, it hurts in a much deeper way.

But something’s different with UFC fighters.

UFC Fighters are Different

Anthony ‘Rumble’ Johnson was not my favrorite fighter. Don’t get me wrong. He was very good. And I enjoyed watching many of his fights, and enjoyed seeing him outside the fighting world as well.

But it doesn’t really matter how good he was, how many fights of his I saw, or whether or not I appreciated his fighting style or personality.

I spent my whole life not a sports fan. That is, until I finally found a sport I liked. And once I did, I immersed myself. I used to go to the sports bars in KC every Saturday night to watch the fights. It was a huge part of my life, one that I miss so much.

And the countless hours of entertainment these people gave me is on a whole different level.

Why?

These athletes literally gave everything of themselves to entertain me. I watched them bleed, get choked out, suffer likely head traumas, and snap bones, all so I could get excited watching everything from a cozy bar chair, icecold beer in hand.

Many people work hard. The waitress who served me said beer did her job well. She was rewarded with a nice tip. And I’m sure if I found out my waitress died an untimely death, I’d find it sad. But I’d then move on with my day. Yes, she worked hard. Just like I work hard every single day. But I don’t expect any of my customers to attend my funeral or shed a tear. I’m just the guy who typed a bunch of words so they could get their email question answered quickly. Their lives move on without me, and the service I performed disappeared the moment we stopped writing.

RIP: Anthony ‘Rumble’ Johnson

But Anthony Johnson bled for me.

He spent months in a training camp tormenting himself, and starving himself, all in preparation for a high-pressure, fast-paced, slugfest with his health and well-being on the line. And win, lose, or draw, the evening was always a spectacular one for me.

So, I’m sad.

No, I’m not bawling in a corner. And I’ll go on with my day, doing my thing like any other day.

But my appreciation is there. And it’s great.

And when someone who gave me this much enjoyment leaves the world, they took a part of me with them.

Anthony ‘Rumble’ Johnson, thanks for the memories. Thanks for the insanely hard punches. Thank you for putting everything on the line just so my Saturday nights would be awesome.

You will be sorely missed.

Anthony 'Rumble' Johnson, thanks for the memories. Thanks for the insanely hard punches. Thank you for putting everything on the line just so my Saturday nights would be awesome.
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Dave Chappelle: Antisemite or Comedian?

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Ah, Dave Chappelle. Back in the news again.

And this time it’s all about something from my own backyard!

As the years go by and I learn new things, and discuss new topics, I can’t help but notice a few guiding principles. Both societal ones and my own personal ones.

Please pardon me while I gather my thoughts together…

Principle #1: Stand Up in the Face of ALL Oppression

It always strikes me as somewhere between disturbing and comical when people listen and keep their mouths completely closed when another groups is under attack, but are up in arms when their own group is the target. I think it should be all or nothing. You can’t pick and choose when to be offended. Especially when it comes to the Jewish people. We are a nation that suffered like no other. And if there’s any take away from that, it should be that we need to stand in the face of oppression and defend the rights of others.

Partly because it’s objectively the right thing to do. But also: When rights are removed from just about anyone, it’s usually not before long that we’re next on the list.

Principle #2: Not Everything is Offensive

That being said, I think it is essential to decide what kind of person you are. Do you wish to live your life being offended by everything you see? Or are you willing to take each moment as its own? It simply can’t be that everything is offensive. The moment everything is offensive, then everything ceases to have meaning.

It’s like that guy from Friends who loved everything. When you love everything, they’re all of equal standing. And the love becomes virtually meaningless.

The same goes for the things in the world you choose to be upset about. If you’re upset about everything, you undermine your own credibility. It is of utmost importance you learn when things are of true import and need to be addressed. If not, leave them be. If yes, attack with full strength until you’ve rid the world of the thing causing the problem.
But it can’t all be equaly bad.

Principle #3: Does their Art Matter?

In addition to being blinded by “attacks” on their own group, I think people are blinded by their appreciation for the offender. So, for example, I didn’t feel any reason to defend a Kanye West when he said stupid things, because I’ve never really cared for his music, and ever since his classic Taylor Swift blunder or his incomprehnsible Joe Rogan interview, I’ve always found him to be an objectionable person.

On the other hand, I think Dave Chappelle is both a likeable individual and an incredibly funny comedian.

I’m aware that these facts muddy my judgment. And I can feel that I have no qualms about chucking Kanye West under the bus, yet I’m quick to defend Chappelle.

Principle #4: Is Comedy Different?

Finally, the big question: Is comedy different?

I think about this all the time, as a lover of humor, and fan of the notion that in comedy, nothing is off the table. If you have a tendency to be bothered by people who stand in front of room and poke fun of things, comedy is not right for you. Seek your entertainment elsewhere. And leave comedy alone so the rest of us can enjoy it in peace.

If you have a tendency to be bothered by people who stand in front of room and poke fun of things, comedy is not right for you.
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Dave Chappelle on Saturday Night Live

With all that on the table, I begin my dive into the wonderful world of Dave Chappelle’s latest appearance on Saturday Night Live.

I don’t watch Saturday Night Live. I think the show has basically become trash in recent years, and my time is better spent on scores of other pursuits. But then I saw my Facebook feed filling up with panicking posts about Dave Chappelle’s latest SNL monologue, and I did what I always do.

I refused to blindly accept the narrative that it was antisemitic. Or that it was offensive.

That’s what most people do nowadays. They hear something is “bad”, and they just happily hop on the bandwagon. They sheepishly run behind a narrative, mindlessly taking statements out of context. Refusing to listen to what was really said, or just as importantly, how it was said.

But that’s not how I roll. I needed to hear his routine for myself.

And I’ll say exactly what so many people don’t want to hear:

I loved his routine.

All of it.

From start to finish.

I even laughed out loud a few times. I played it for my family. They laughed out loud as well.

Dave Chappelle: A Master of Comedy

Dave Chappelle is a master of comedy. He has a way of making light of complex situations that is both hysterical and thought-provoking. And he does so consistently with grace and precision.

And those who understand both his style and what comedy is all about, get that all situations, big or small, can be poked at. There is little to nothing off the table when it comes to comedy.

But the real trick is about tone and intent.

And we all know the difference, even if scores of people act like there isn’t one. There is a difference between a joke told about a race and a joke told by a racist.

In the former, humor is absolutely possible. Is it a given? No. No humor is ever a given. Comedy is difficult. But when performed by a master, there is no such thing as something that cannot be funny.

But the latter is laden with anger and hatred. It’s not a joke. It’s a statement. And we could all feel it in our bones that something is wrong. Something is being said with bad intentions.

We Need to Laugh More

And it makes many of us uncomfortable. We just want to laugh. We bear no ill-will toward a race, religion, or gender. We will gladly laugh at ourselves alongside of laughing at everyone else as well.

Dave Chappelle is not an antisemite. Nor was his routine antisemitic.

The world is a silly place, one filled with countless reasons to poke fun and tease one another. How could we look internally and not laugh a little? There is more than enough for a solid chuckle!

And we need those laughs. Life is stressful. It behooves us all to see a joke for what it is.

Yes, we need to keep our guard up. We’ve let it down before, and it ended very, very poorly for us. But wisdom is knowing when to point an angry finger, when to sit back and let things be, and when to just let loose, smile, and laugh at the universe’s absurdities.

We owe it to ourselves to learn the difference.

We’ve lost enough. We can’t afford to lose our sense of humor as well!

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Mental Health is not for Likes and Clicks

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Mental health is all the rage these days. Finally, everyone’s talking about it.

But I question motives. And I question whether or not this will make anything better.

Running Up That Hill

Several months ago, the most recent season of Stranger Things was blowing up. And for reasons I didn’t understand at the time, one scene was getting all the attention.

In this scene (spoiler alert), one of the main characters (Max) was inches away from death, but was able to essentially will herself away from the inevitable by focusing on the great things in her life.

People were referring to this scene as “epic”. They were talking about it as one of the greatest moments in television history.

But I had to go rewatch it to try and figure out what all the talk was about. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy the scene. It’s that I didn’t see it as anything special or anything particularly memorable.

And I was even saddened that after rewatching, I still didn’t seem to see what was causing such a stir.

Stranger Things and Mental Health

So I flipped through the YouTube comment section, and I was shocked to find comment after comment about the show’s brilliant portrayal of the mental health struggle. And I know my opinion is extremely unpopular, but I didn’t and still don’t see the scene that way. I think many people have artificially inserted the scene’s interpretation for yet another hot topic that everyone’s now talking about.

Which is fine.

People are entitled.

But at the same time, I think there is a benefit to calling something as it is. I think a couple of major misconceptions exist here.

I don’t have research to back up my claims.

At the same time, I am saying what I’m saying with a whole lot of confidence.

Are You Actually Suffering?

The first major misconception: Those who are posting on YouTube are actually suffering.

Can I say this is false with absolute certainty?

Of course not.

But the fact is that most people who are suffering through any level of mental illness are not talking about it. In fact, that’s a big part of the problem.

Society has a tendency to glorify things. Or to even make them temporarily trendy.

And as much as it’s extremely important to put mental health at the front and center of the conversation, that doesn’t necessarily mean any meaningful change has occurred. Nor does it mean that the right people are benefitting from the fact that others are speaking about the important topic.

We love to pat ourselves on the back for the efforts we are making. But cheering on Simone Byles and writing a bunch of platitudes in YouTube comments, isn’t making the boy contemplating suicide or the girl crippled by anxiety think the world is on their side. No, they still feel alone. They still feel like there’s no one in the world with whom they could safely share their feelings.

The Internet is not a Safe Place

And when things get really bad, they’re not necessarily hitting the comments section to share their thoughts.

And that’s no surprise.

We can pretend all we want that the internet is where we go to safely emote. But the fact is, the internet has been a haven for bullying and anonymous obnoxiousness for decades now. Even if somehow society is coming around, that doesn’t erase the feelings that have been provoked repeatedly for years.

You can be nice to someone for months. But it’ll take way more than that to remove the emotions created by the one time you were unnecessarily harsh.

So you can talk all day long about your mental health issues in the comment section of a scene from a hit TV show. And if it’s making a difference, then that’s a great thing.

But I have trouble believing the ones who really need help are piling onto YouTube to tell this to the world.

Everyone’s Burden

Now, almost paradoxically, I’ve wondered in recent years whether or not nearly every person alive at some level is suffering from mental health issues.

There are so many hours of the day humanity is home alone with its thoughts. And those thoughts–that incessant noise–can be oppressive.

How can we not occasionally fall victim to the evils of depression? How can we not collapse in front of the challenges that face us on a day-to-day basis?

And when the challenges pile on and the anxiety starts pounding on our hearts, we start to feel alone. Like there’s no one in the world who can truly relate to us. Or like the problems we are facing cannot be solved. Or if we were to tell our issues to others, they simply wouldn’t take us seriously.

And the world cowers under the stigmas. Mental health concerns are some sort of weakness. Going to therapy means you have given up and are hoping someone else can swoop in to save you from life’s pervasive difficulties.

Crying on a friend’s shoulder will push them away. They don’t have time for that. You’re just a whiner you needs to pull it together!

But we’re all so very wrong.

We’re all suffering. Life’s difficulties are real. And there’s no shame in admitting this. We all go through what we go through, and we shouldn’t be expected to do so alone.

We're all suffering. Life's difficulties are real. And there's no shame in admitting this. We all go through what we go through, and we shouldn't be expected to do so alone.
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Take Back Your Life

Going to therapy is not a sign of weakness or giving up. It’s utter strength and a reaffirmation that you want to succeed at all costs. That life is important to you, and you don’t want your struggles to rule you. You wish to take back your life.

And your friends are all there for you. You need to know how much they love you and care for you. In the words of Paddy Pimblett, a UFC fighter shortly after a close friend took his own life: “I know I’d rather my mate cry on my shoulder than go to his funeral next week.”

The world is a tough place.

We’re all going through a lot.

But we’re not alone, even though it might feel like that all the time.

Mental health is no joke. It’s not something to wave around like a badge on social media. It’s something to be spoken about with those closest to you. It’s something we all need to come together to fight against.

And we need to win.

Everything’s at stake.

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The Theory of 100 Pages

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Several months ago I excitedly announced that I started reading books again. And since then, thank goodness, it feels like I’ve completed a ton of them. Slowly but surely. I’m not the fastest reader in the world, but I do love reading. I’m probably about 100 pages into a couple of books right now, in fact. And I really appreciate gaining all the endless knowledge.

The Love of Non-Fiction

When I was a kid, I loved fiction. I’m not sure what yanked me out of that phase in my life. Perhaps it came with annoying college courses that forced me to look at literature in ways I found unnatural and unpleasant. Perhaps it just came as a frustratingly inevitable part of growing up. The pleasure of disappearing into a little fantasy world for hours on end went from being what I lived for to becoming impractical. Who has time for Holden Caulfield when there’s stuff to do? Who can find time for ghouls and goblins when there are life skills I need to be attaining?

And so I embraced non-fiction. Everything I’m reading now basically falls in one of three categories: 1) Health and fitness, 2) personal development, and 3) becoming wealthy. And I savor everthing I’m reading.

I can feel myself becoming a better, more well-rounded person. I can watch as my health improves, one day at a time. And hopefully one of these days, I’ll even watch my bank account grow to levels I never imagined possible.

My Need for Completion

But I have a problem.

When I read a book, I always read it from cover to cover. It sounds nice in theory. But it really is a burden.

This means I always read the introduction. Or even those forewards written by someone else entirely. This means I read the author’s bio. And this means I still finsh the book even if I’m not enjoying it at all, and even if I have hundreds of pages left.

My need for a thorough read is a blessing and a curse. Who doesn’t like the accomplished feel of completing something?

But the curse is very pronounced, especially in light of what I want to speak about today.

What Happens after 100 Pages?

You see, I’m starting to notice a pattern in all of the books I’m reading. Everything starts to get extremely boring and repetitive after the first 100 pages.

Now, you could of course argue that I have a short attention span. It’s not a ridiculous thought. I mean, in general I choose every day of my life to do a little bit of a lot of things, rather than hyperfocus on any one project. Part of this is to prevent boredom.

I don’t have it in me at this point in my life to sit and study French for three hours straight. But I certainly have it in me to study French for five minutes a day… and five minutes each of eleven other languages.

Part of it is to prevent what may be inevitable boredom. But part of it is just having way too many interests and just yearning to do as much as possible in any given day.

So even though it’s very possible that somewhere around page 100, I just find myself already wanting to put that book down and move on to another one. But I’m not so sure that’s what’s happening here.

The Theory of 100 Pages

My theory is that the average author only has approximately 100 pages worth of useful information they would like to convey. But 100 pages doesn’t sell. It doesn’t feel like a real book. It’s more like a novela or some cheesey eBook with a name like “How to Get Rich in Just Three Weeks”.

So what do you do when you have 100 pages of extremely vital information you want to make sure gets into the hearts and minds of as many readers as possible?

You start padding. You start filling your book with countless unnessary examples to “prove” the point you already convinced us of ten chapters earlier. You bulk up the book with incessant fluff. Just meaningless paragraphs or even chapters that truly do not need to be there.

Baby Killing

I was reading a book about writing a play a while back, and I was introduced to the morbid concept of “killing your baby”. These are parts of the play you have written and absolutely adore, but realize now they no longer have a place in the play. If you keep them in there, it will damage something about the play’s flow or structure or someone’s character.

You desperately want to hold on to this gem of writing. You love it. It’s a part of you. But you know deep down this is no longer an option. In order for the play to reach it’s final complete and flawless stage, you must, in effect, kill your baby. You must get rid of this piece you’ve become attached to and move forward without it.

Similarly, I recently heard about Eminem’s creative process. He carries around a notebook with him at all times, constantly writing down thoughts he might include in future endeavors. Someone asked him if he uses all of what he writes down. He responded that he trashes about 99% of it!

The creative process, in order to achieve a level of perfection, must include eliminating what isn’t needed until you get to the point where the only thing left behind is this beautifully polished gem.

The 80/20 Principle

But this all still leaves me with the question of where to go from here.

I have dabbled in another book called The 80/20 Principle, which posits (among many other things) that in order to be wise and knowledgable, you never need to read an entire book. Just the intro and afterword, and any chapters you find particularly interesting. You might not pick up each and every nuance the book wishes to convey. But you will pick up somewhere around 80%, and you will do so in a fraction of the time. And now you can move on to the next book. And then the next. And keep this up as you slowly but surely achieve super-mega genius status in no time at all.

So I’m stuck. I still love the feel of fully completing a book, but I hate that feeling that I’m no longer interested in what the book’s offering. Do I just stop after 100 pages? Follow the 80/20 advice?

Or is there some other solution I haven’t yet thought of?

Or.. gulp… do I go to the fiction dark side again?

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Another Life Snatched Too Soon (Actually 3)

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I am terribly uncomfortable with death.

It might be a trite statement. I don’t fully know anyone else’s emotions but my own.

I just know that when death impacts me, big or small, I get uneasy. I don’t fully grasp what is happening. And I find myself not quite understanding that someone in my life will no longer be a part of it anymore.

Something Wrong in the Air

Something unnerving is happening. I don’t know if it’s because the years are starting to float on by, so everyone I know is inevitably getting a little bit older. Or the more people you meet over the years, the more you increase the possibility of becoming devastated by losing someone.

Or perhaps there’s something else in the air, be it physical or spiritual.

But when three deaths impacted my life at varying levels in under two weeks, I couldn’t help but become reflective. And, of course, overwhelmingly sad.

Regrets of a Life Unknown

The first was someone I didn’t really know. At least not the way I would have liked to.

When I heard that a young man was inches away from leaving six (now seven) children without a father, I looked him up only to find that not only were we Facebook friends, but had a long chat about a year ago.

To this day, I don’t remember meeting this sweet person. But it was very apparent from our conversation that we had met around twenty years ago, and he mentioned more than enough details that it was clear we at some point in history had an actual relationship.

And now I have that little chat staring at me for eternity. Reminding me on a daily basis that so many people from my life have come and gone. Some are sitting right at the forefront of my memory, always and forever. And others just disappear into a forgotten past.

But just because I’ve forgotten so much, doesn’t mean everyone else has. Or that my past isn’t a part of me. Impact and influence rage on. And it is so painful for me to recognize not only how much I’ve lost from my life due to a faulty memory, but how much I could have gained if I just kept the conversation going.

If I had only known, I would have talked and reminisced until the final day came and I’d lose the ability to do so forever.

If you’d like to contribute to helping Shalom Miller’s family, click here.

Goodbye Pete

But the universe was not done.

I noticed repeated Facebook messages about my friend Pete. And I read and re-read everything, because none of it seemed to make sense to me. It was surreal.

Pete’s younger than I am. He’s married with children. And he’s an absolute sweetheart.

Yet he was playing hockey one day, and that was it. Before the day ended, we would never meet again. And I’m in utter disbelief.

When I used to work at Vin Solutions in Missouri, I was surrounded by church-goers. I grew up in Staten Island, where it seemed like everyone was Italian Catholic. But despite being surrounded by Christians and crosses, everyone pretty much felt the same to me. No one was actually all that religious.

But then I moved to Kansas. And now Christians were really Christians. Everyone had their church they attended frequently. It was a big part of their lives.

Hebrew in the Bible Belt

So it amused me to no end that in the middle of the Bible belt, I was chatting every day in Hebrew with one of my co-workers.

And we spoke all the time, in Hebrew and otherwise. I came to admire and respect Pete, and always enjoyed his company.

And I’m struggling like crazy to come to grips with the fact that those conversations are just memories now. We’ve had our last conversation.

I can’t shake the mental picture of re-visiting my old stomping grounds, popping into my old company, saying hi to and hugging all those lovely people I worked with. But the mental picture has Pete in it. It always will.

If you’d like to help me and others cherish Pete’s memory, please donate to United Heroes League, dedicated to keeping kids of military personnel active and healthy through sports activities.

And then there were three…

But the world is a cruel, cruel place. So having two deaths in a very short span impact my life wasn’t enough.

Thirty years ago I was going down a really bad path, one I expect would have led me in the hospital, jail, or worse.

And just at the precipice of my downfall, I hit rock bottom… and managed to wrestle myself out from the terrible place I was in.

And at that moment, it’s like I had an opportunity for a do-over with my entire life.

Long story short, I found my way to a whole new group of friends and a completely different lifestyle. And ultimately to the summer camp that would become the center of my life.

And that summer camp was run by an incredible man named David Frank.

In Loving Memory of David Frank

David Frank made an everlasting impact on my life. He was a good, kind-hearted person with an electric personality. And everyone adored him.

I had enormous amounts of respect for him and the way he ran the camp, and that increased exponentially when I attended one of his classes about Israel.

I didn’t grow up with Israel as a concept all that much in my life. I didn’t know anything about it. And I certainly had no idea it was a place where many Jewish people chose to uproot their lives and move to.

Yet, I found myself utterly convinced by every word that left David’s mouth. His talk was so intelligent and persuasive, basically leaving very little doubt that he could be mistaken.

That day David Frank planted a seed in my mind and soul. I would give over his words to others many times before taking the plunge and getting on the plane to good ole Israel.

And my life, in many ways, was once again restarted.

Grateful

David Frank planted the seeds that made me who I am today.

And now he, like the other two, has been taken away from me and the rest of the world. He will no longer have the opportunity to bless the world with his beautiful words and ideas.

And it is soul crushing to lose such a precious person.

May his memory be carried on forever through the incredible impact he had on so many!

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5 Lessons from the Days without a Voice

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About a week ago, I got a cold.

I know what you’re thinking… But you’re wrong. In the Covid era, colds are still a thing. Shocking, I get it.

But true!

In any case, I don’t get sick often. Usually around once a year. And my annual experience had arrived.

But something a bit different happened this time around.

After excessively coughing and clearing my throat, it got so sore that I lost my voice, something that has only happened to me a handful of times in my life.

Any amount of talking was painful, and for about a week I was whispering, hand signaling, and writing things down, to avoid pain and because many times these were my only choices.

The experience was frustrating and uncomfortable, but now with some time to reflect, here are five things I learned from a week without a voice:

1) No Voice is Really, Really Hard

I’ve heard of people doing speech fasts. I even once was on a weekend retreat, and one of the other groups was having a silent weekend.

I’m all for it. I mean, I’d estimate the vast majority of mistakes I make in life come from the words that spill out of my dumb mouth. It’s probably a good idea to take a break from talking every once in a while.

However, it should be noted that it’s not at all easy.

I really struggled with losing my voice. I love peace and quiet. And I’m a huge fan of alone time.

But this is not the same. It’s like living in a different universe from the people around you.

Not quite identical… but it reminded me of the one time I was ever a designated driver. It’s the worst! Sure you can have fun without substance. But when you’re the designated sober dork, you’re sitting there the whole time feeling like everyone is having a lot more fun than you are. Like you’re watching a movie about people having fun, but you’re not experiencing what they’re experiencing.

And so I sat without a voice, not participating in conversations. Not answering questions I had the answers to. Not being able to participate in work meetings.

And I hated every minute.

I'd estimate the vast majority of mistakes I make in life come from the words that spill out of my dumb mouth.
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2) It’s an Unsympathetic World

And the world doesn’t make it any easier. No one’s trying really hard to accommodate you. They’re just going about their business, asking you questions, and expecting answers, even if it’s clear by the look on your face that answering them is agonizing.

And despite the urge to use the time for quiet reflection, nothing actually ends up quieter. Well, except for you, of course. But the world and everyone in it remains just as noisy as before.

So no one’s coming over to help you enjoy the benefits of your silence. They’re just expecting you to listen more.

3) The World Shuts Down

And not only is the world expecting you to listen. Your responsibilities truck on as if nothing’s changed whatsoever.

Oh, you can’t actually respond in that essential work meeting?

No matter. You’re still expected to be fully present and give some type of intelligent, cohesive answer.

Because even though you are temporarily separate from the rest of the universe, others don’t accept this reality. For them, nothing’s changed.

So, for you the world shuts down.

You are useless, unable to fulfill the wishes of those around you. Nevertheless, the wishes just don’t go seem to go away.

4) The Overwhelming Need to Vent

By far the hardest part of the whole experience was my vastly reduced ability to vent.

Life can be hard sometimes. Really hard.

And I have very limited methods of reducing the amount of tension I’m feeling. One of the ways is by just letting out all my feelings to family or friends.

But for a week, that method was robbed from me.

And for the sake of venting, nothing beats using your mouth. No amount of writing could replace the beauty of the spoken word when you just need to let all your thoughts and feelings out of your system.

So when the going got tough (and for some reason, it always seems to), I would try and let me feelings fly, but a scratchy painful mess of a voice would be let out.

And instead of my feelings pouring out of me with inevitable lovely catharsis, they just stayed within me and poisoned me.

I was painfully drowning in my own problems, and pitying my inability to really do anything about it.

5) Is it Karma?

I am not a wildly spiritual person. But I couldn’t help but think maybe I was getting a bitter taste of karma with this experience.

Way back when I was in college, I played a joke on someone. I can get into the reasons for it, but they’re pretty irrelevant to the overall picture.

The short version is to avoid interaction with an unsavory fella, I pretended I was a mute. For two weeks!

Everyone was in on the joke except for this one person, and the fiasco ended with me standing on a chair shouting, “I’m not a mute. I can speak. It’s a miracle!”

Now, first of all, the whole experience was quite memorable. And rather funny.

But the guy was understandably pretty darn pissed.

So maybe–maybe–a whole week of not really being able to communicate was a tiny taste of what I deserve from past misdeeds.

Probably not…

But you never really know, do you?

I Have a Voice. What Now?

As I write this article, I’m about 98% better. I’m coughing just a bit. But I’ve re-entered the world. I’m communicating freely with my friends and family. And I’m fully capable of venting to my heart’s content.

And I’m truly ecstatic to be on the other side. I’m always happy to learn more about myself and the world around me, but always frustrated when I need to learn those lessons through complex personal experiences.

I can’t say for certain I lost my voice due to karma, for my mute prank or for anything else. But I can say that something happens inside when instead of saying everything that comes to mind you are forced to choose your words very carefully.

It’s almost like a verbal Twitter. I have just a few words I can eke out before it’s too painful, and if I waste them, they’re just gone.

It really makes you start to think which words were ever worth saying in the first place.

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Is Living in Israel Really Worth It?

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I feel betrayed.

I knew living in Israel was tough when I moved back here. I had already been through so much.

But to see the little progress that had been made while I was gone, and to go through what I just went through, makes me feel broken. And sometimes hopeless.

During my handful of years living in Israel, I experienced how rough it can be when you have an unscrupulous landlord who doesn’t care about the place you’re living in, and the helpless feeling of knowing there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.

I experienced severe medical malpractice, massive and unnecessary pain and suffering, combined with a system that makes it damn near impossible to get justice when this occurs.

And while living in Israel I experienced how the court system favors the wealthy and the big businesses, and how small and insignificant you can feel when face-to-face with an injustice. And how there is simply nobody looking out for the little person.

When Did This All Happen?

You may ask: Did this all happen during my first time living in Israel, or did it happen in these last six years since my return?

The terribly unfortunate answer: It happened in both.

All.

Three.

Things.

And I couldn’t possibly be more upset about it.

My wife and I took a trip to Small Claims Court recently. My cellphone company was, as per their reputation, deceptive and underhanded.

I was given a gift upon renewing my plan with them. I was told it was completely free. And they then proceeded to charge me a great deal of money over the course of three years. By the time I noticed, I was already out a whole lot of money.

So we started the court process, and we were given a date. Six months! We had to wait to six months to have our day in court. Six months to find out whether or not there was any justice in the country.

Contemplating the Worst Case Scenario

I was nervous, but I tried to keep my head screwed on tight.

If we lost, the worst case scenario wasn’t so bad. Most of the money was already gone, so being forced to pay the remaining fees wouldn’t be felt too badly. And even if we lost, we would have learned essential lessons about successfully living in Israel. We would learn that Hot Mobile is not to be trusted and no one should partake of their vile company. We would learn to navigate the court system a bit. We would get indoctrinated into the watch-your-back lifestyle required to keep you safe in Israel. Always check your receipts, read the fine print, never trust anyone, a gift is never really a gift, etc.

But most importantly, we would be standing up for ourselves. Injustices happen every single day. And most people just sit back and let things crumble around them. They’d rather suck up the insane financial loss than sit around for six months waiting for a court case they’ll likely lose.

And I see where they’re coming from.

Sadly, now more than ever.

Our Day in Court

Well, we had our day in court.

And it went about as badly as it could. And in many ways, a whole lot worse.

The judge looked down upon us as if we were idiots for thinking we could challenge an established company. He blamed us for not knowing how to handle ourselves in such situations. And to top it off, he criticized us for not requesting the paperwork in English. Which, for anyone who’s been living in Israel for a minute or too, knows is not at all an option.

The fact that companies pull this garbage all the time was irrelevant to him. It’s as if each individual case is taken on its own merit, and no one is looking for any patterns of misconduct whatsoever.

Which is exactly the experience I had in Small Claims Court a couple of decades earlier, when a professionally crooked landlord demolished me in court… just like he had done to several previous tenants.

The Final Kick in the Balls

So we left not knowing the verdict, but seeing the writing on the wall. But we couldn’t have imagined what would happen next. We thought the worst case scenario was just paying the remaining fees, and some lost time. But then we received a bill for Hot Mobile’s legal expenses. So not only were we beaten and thrown to the ground by an inept and corrupt system, but once we were already on the ground, we were then given a swift kick in the balls.

We were essentially told to never stick up for ourselves.

We were told that doing so was useless, time consuming, and costly.

And I sit here writing this article in utter dismay.

I don’t understand how we got here. Israel was a fantastic project. A whirlwind of incredible accomplishments, doing the impossible at every turn… and then complacency and arrogance settled in.

And progress, in many ways, came to a grinding halt.

What Living in Israel Means

We wanted a nation to protect us from a dangerous and unforgiving world. But who’s protecting us from ourselves?

My day in court proved what I suspected all along. No one, no one at all, is looking out for the little people. No one is there to stare in the face of phone companies and banks and landlords to tell them this behavioral is unacceptable, and they are doing irreparable damage to a nation loaded with potential. They are ripping to shreds a hope and a dream, and leaving scores of people in the dirt, feeling they don’t have a place among their own people.

I recently listened to podcast with Ben Shapiro interviewing former Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. In general, it was a pretty decent interview touching on a lot of really good points, especially about the Abraham Accords. I thought the questions were a bit soft, avoiding tough topics like the Netanyahu’s indictment. But given the context, I imagine interrogating the man would have been a bit inappropriate.

We wanted a nation to protect us from a dangerous and unforgiving world. But who's protecting us from ourselves?
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The Disconnect is Real

But my biggest gripe was about how out of touch he felt with what’s actually going on in people’s homes. What do people mean when they say Israel has a thriving economy? They mean we’re doing a lot better than filthy dictatorships in the same general region. They mean we have a thriving tech sector, with a few folk out there figuring out how to become wildly wealthy. And yes, some people in Israel are raking in money due to a newfound relationship with the UAE.

But guess what? I’m not one of them. I’ve never met one of them. The rest of us haven’t seen a penny from these talks. Our taxes are still sky high. We pay exorbitant and incomprehensible fees for so many things. Everything is expensive. And just when you think you might have a penny or two left over, it seems to get stolen by corrupt businesses and greedy landlords.

And there is no one out there looking to help or protect the “little folk” among us.

The situation is beyond uncomfortable. And not sustainable.

And needs to get better.

I don’t like what I see, and I am terribly worried for our future.

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