It’s Mother’s Day 2017 and we’ve got a lot of ground to cover, so fasten your seat belts. (Wait. Didn’t Attorney General Sessions outlaw seat belts? Oh no, sorry, that’s next week!) One wish, please. If you like today’s blog, please LIKE IT, Tweet it or send it to your Mother. After all, she’s got you for a kid, she deserves a little honor and a few laughs.
Here’s a rundown on what you can expect today:
1. First up, a description of “The Toughest Job in the World.” This Job is so tough, no man on Earth could ever handle it!
2. Next, An Open Letter to Donald Trump. From His Mother. The President’s Mother (Earth) is not happy with Donald Trump. Here’s why!
3. Here’s a Tribute to my Late Mom, although she was hardly ever late, usually right on time,. Well, except in the end. But then again, aren’t we all?
4. What Not to Buy Your Mom for Mother’s Day! Don’t honor your Mom’s never ending love with the gift of a toaster oven.
5. Mother’s Day in Theory. The perfect gift for the Mother of my Daughter
6. STAN Meet His Maker. The notorious STAN meet his Mother for the first time. Again!
STAN: Cool. I’m gonna meet my Mom today?
HARRIET: Shut up, STAN. It’s not time for us to talk yet.
And now, let the festivities begin.
1. The Toughest Job In The World Is A Real Mother!
You may be under the assumption America’s Asst. Liar-in-Chief, Sean Spicer, has The Toughest Job in the World. After all, has to appear before the White House Press Corps moments after the President has tweeted, “The sky is falling! The sky is falling! And it’s all Obama fault!”
But whether you dislike the President’s Spokesman or you hate him intensely, you’ve gotta give him credit for lowering his integrity and consistently delivering the President’s ever changing messages.
True, it’s not easy to stand there in the briefing room like Sean does, naked, sans truth, and try to convince everyone that the egg on your face is really an omelet. But Shaun Spicer does not have The Toughest Job in the World, nor do any other members of the Emperor has no Clothes’ administration.
Asst. Liar-in-Chief, Seam Spicer, insisting the egg on his face is really an omelet.
Because even those jobs pale when compared to the stress, aggravation and sheer patience that Mothers exhibit every day.
A few years ago, a Boston newspaper ran an ad for “The Toughest Job in the World.” Over 2 1/2 million people saw the ad. Only 27 people had the stamina and courage to apply for the job
It’s no wonder so few applicants applied. The requirements were a real killer.
Requirements for the Toughest Job in the World
- Must be able to work 135+ hours a week, no breaks
- Ph. D. in psychology or real-life equivalent
- Crisis management skills a must
- Proficiency handling sticky situations (literally and figuratively)
- Able to work with associates with minimal ability
- Breasts, preferably milk producing
- Demonstrated knowledge and experience in negotiating, counseling and culinary arts
- Unlimited patience
- Understanding of medicine, finance, social media and video games
- Valid driver’s license, CPR certification and Red Cross membership
- Positive disposition at all times
And if that weren’t enough to scare you away, The Toughest Job in the World doesn’t even pay a salary. Nada. Nothing! Although three meals a day are included (as long as you cook them.)
If you haven’t guessed it yet, The Toughest Job in the World is a real Mother. No, really, it’s being a real mother, a job so tough and only women can handle it. Here’s some footage from people who applied for the job.
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If I forget to mention it, Happy Mother’s Day to Moms Everywhere, They’re America’s most valuable natural resource!
STAN: Hey, what’s goin’ on? I smell something funny here.
HARRIET: Something you stepped in?
STAN: No. No. It’s Goldman. The writer of this blog.
HARRIET: You mean Goldenberg?
STAN: Goldman. Goldenberg. Whatever. Goldbloom’s trying to scam his Readers.
HARRIET: How so?
STAN: He runs “The Toughest Job on the World” blog every Mother’s Day.
HARRIET: Well, that’s true, but when he blogged about three years, he only had 4,000 Readers. Now he has over 24,000. That’s a lot of new Readers
STAN: I know. And it’s all because of me.
HARRIET: Don’t flatter yourself, STAN. Don’t forget, you’re imaginary. Jack writes everything you say.
STAN: Yeah, right, and I suppose the Pope is Catholic.
HARRIET: Pretty much. Look, STAN, it’s true Jack runs this story every Mother’s Day, but he’s updated it so even die-hard Readers won’t mind. So please, just let Jack continue.
STAN: I will, it’s not like I always have to have the last word.
HARRIET: I know. (almost understandingly)
STAN: It’s not like I always have to have the last word.
HARRIET: Shush, quiet, Jack’s back
STAN: Last word.
Where was I? Oh yeah., I’m pretty sure my Mom is reading this 10 Minutes of Brilliance blog in Heaven. I doubt she’s in Hell or Pittsburgh, because Mom led a good life and was never very fond of those places. Anyway, I hope I’ve made her proud.
2. An Open Letter to Donald Trump from His Mother. Mother (Earth).
Dear President Trump:
You are stripping away regulations that will keep my air and water clean.
You have tried to take away health care for millions of my residents.
You are ignoring those who are already born., eliminating funding for programs that aid women and children.
You have threatened to despoil the beauty of my National Parks.
ATT: Hey, President Trump. Protect the Environment. There is only one Earth. There is no Planet-B. Love, Your Mother
On Mother’s Day, think not just of your children and grandchildren, Mr. President, but of all children and grandchildren who deserve the right, no matter where they were born, or how wealthy they are, to breathe unpolluted air, drink clean water, be protected from dangerous chemicals, and enjoy the natural beauty of their world.
As you play golf at Mar-a-Lago this weekend and fret over the difficult job of being President, remember those who work hard to allow you your lavish lifestyle.
Please take care of me, and all those already living on earth.
I am the only Mother Earth you will ever have.
The above Open Letter appeared in the NY Times on Friday, May 12 as a full page ad.
To express your views, visit Keep Mother Earth Happy.
To make Mother Earth happy, copy this Open Letter to Donald Trump, print it out, sign your name and mail it to:
President Trump
The White House
1600 Pennsylvania Ave., NW
Washington, DC 20500
Of course, he won’t read it. He doesn’t read. Perhaps Ivanka can read it to him, or even Jared, if he’s back from solving the Mid East crises
Or better yet, call the President at 202-456-1111.
Leave this message: President Trump. Mother Earth is not Happy.
NOTE: He will probably not answer the phone. He may be playing golf, just destroying the environment or canceling healthcare for those who can least afford it. hey, he’s a bust mna. Who knew the Presidency would have been this taxing?
3. A Tribute to My Mom. Who Had Three Wonderful Children. Oh yeah, and me.
A few years ago, I ran my Mother’s Day blog 2 weeks AFTER Mother’s Day. Boy, was my Mom upset. I felt her wrath all the way from Heaven. (I’m pretty sure she’s in Heaven, because she never liked Hell or Pittsburgh and sometimes couldn’t tell the two apart.
But true to the spirit of my Mom, she took the blame and apologized for my tardiness. She wrote,” PLEASE EXCUSE MY SON JACK FOR POSTING HIS MOTHER’S DAY BLOG TWO WEEKS LATE!
The she signed it, “JACK’S LATE MOTHER.”
My Mom always had a great sense of humor. She loved to pose in pictures with famous fictional characters. Here she is with one of the part-time employees from my Dad’s store who was prone to wearing red suits.
My Mom and Santa Claus. My Mom is the one on the left.
I owe my Mom a lot. Besides my giving me my twisted sense of humor, my Mom gave me a sense of wonderment and curiosity about the world. She also had a love of learning, and taught me about the responsibility to stand up for what’s right and call out what’s wrong. It got us both in a little trouble, but we wouldn’t have it any other way.
We still have regular conversations, although they’re somewhat one-sided now. Come to think of it, they were one-sided back then! It was just a different person talking,
My Mom lived to be 93 and for most of those years she was full of life. She got her Masters Degree in her late 70s. In a wheel chair. I can’t imagine anything that would have stopped her from doing anything she wanted to do. It drove my Dad crazy.
STAN: Why is Goldberg going to go on and on about his mother?
HARRIET: Because this Sunday is Mother’s Day.
STAN: Well, I’m sick and tired of hearing all this cr*p about Mothers. Hey, did you see that? I tried to say the word cr*p, dam* it, but Goldberger bleeped it out! He really s**ks.
HARRIET: Well, this is a family blog, STAN. Now, let Jack finish. And try to remember you’re just an imaginary character Jack dreamed up. Or he’ll bleep out more than your off-color language.
STAN: Off color? It’s blue.
HARRIET: Exactly.
My Mom was also a bit of a rascal. Not a trouble maker, mind you, but someone who didn’t mind giving the world a little “oudgie” when it deserved it.
Here are a few stories that showcase my Mom’s desire to always keep the world on its toes.
Ever since I can remember, my Mom didn’t get along with her youngest brother, my Uncle Donald. She wasn’t hostile or mean to him. She often loaned him money to help him out of a jam. and he got in more jams than Smuckers. But my Mom did think her brother was lazy and stupid and she had no problem letting him and the world know it.
After my Mom graduated college (at 18), she became a substitute teacher. One day she had to substitute for a history class my Uncle Donald was in. She called on Donald throughout the class, embarrassing him again and again because he didn’t know any of the answers.
After class, my Mom wrote a note, sealed it in an envelope and told Donald to take it home to “his” Mother. If you’re following this story carefully, you’ll note my Mom and Uncle Donald had the same mother, a k a my grandmother.
When my grandmother read the note, she was so mad, Donald thought he saw steam coming out of her head. This may just be urban legend, or perhaps a tea kettle nearby. Hard to say.
The note to my grandma said, “Congratulations. Your son is an award winner. He is the dumbest person on the planet.”
Anyway, there was no signature on the note, so my grandma grabbed Donald by one of his big, flabby ears (oh no, wait , that was Dumbo) and she dragged him to school the next morning to search out and destroy whoever wrote that damming note about her son.
When she got to Donald’s class the next day, she saw her daughter, my Mom, standing at the front of the class.
“Bernice, did you write this note?” she asked.
“Which note?”my Mom said.
“The one that said ‘Congratulations. Your son is the dumbest person on the entire planet.‘”
“Why,” Mom said, “Do you have any other children you think would qualify?”
STAN: OK, not a bad story. Not as boring as most of Goldman’s stories. But I still don’t know why everyone makes such a big deal about Mother’s Day?
HARRIET: Don’t you remember good things about your Mom?
STAN: (STAN MUMBLES SOMETHING INCOHERENTLY.) Fhdignet hobad mdtedh!
HARRIET: What? What did you say?
STAN: Fhdignet hobad mothar! (AGAIN, STAN MUMBLES HIS WORDS SO THEY CAN’T BE UNDERSTOOD.)
HARRIET: You said “you didn’t have a mother?” Of course not , Stan. That’s what I’ve been telling you. You’re not real. You’re just something Jack dreamt up to make the blog more interesting,
NOW STAN’S FEELINGS WERE REALLY HURT. IT WAS BAD ENOUGH TO NEVER HAVE HAD A MOTHER, BUT NOW HARRIET CONVINCED STAN HE WAS JUST A CHARACTER INVENTED TO MAKE 10 MINUTES OF BRILLIANCE MORE INTERESTING.
STAN: That’s it, Harriet! I’m outta here! I QUIT! I want off the blog. It’s obvious I’m not important to anyone here.
HARRIET: No, Stan, no. You’ve got it all wrong. You’re very important to Jack. He never writes a blog without you. To Jack, you’re practically his leading man. His hero. In fact, Stan, Jack thinks “You’re the Tops.”
WITH THAT COMMENT, HARRIET BREAKS INTO SONG, SINGING COLE PORTER’S HIT, YOU’RE THE TOPS (If you know it, Sing a few bars to yourself, then read on.)
HARRIET: Wasn’t that a touching story, Stan? You know, a mother’s love for her children is the strongest force in the Universe. It’s stronger than Hate, Greed or Power!
STAN: I guess so. But I still don’t see how it relates to me. I’ve never even had a Mother.
HARRIET: Well, you might have one one day, Stan, you never know. Maybe Jack will write your Mother into this blog.
STAN: Never happen, Harriet. Never in a million years.
HARRIET: We’ll see, you never know. (HARRIET WINKS AT YOU READERS, LETTING YOU IN ON HER LITTLE SECRET.)
My Mom around 1950, with two of my three sisters, in some Leave it to Beaver type neighborhood. The little bugger in the baby carriage is me. It’s difficult to see, but I had a pen and paper in my buggy. I was working on my first blog.
Funny Story #2 about my Mom
When my middle sister, we’ll call her Rainy, because that’s her name, was 7 years old, she tried to climb out of her crib and got her leg stuck in the slats. Rainy screamed for help and my Mom came running. “Don’t worry, Rainy, I’ll get you out.” With that, my Mom ran out of the room. A minute later she returned with Old Joe, a neighborhood handyman. Old Joe was carrying a big rusty saw.
My sister Rainy screamed, ” Mom. Mom. What’s he gonna do Mom? He’s not going to cut off my leg, is he?”
My Mom replied, “Well you don’t think I was going to ruin a perfectly good crib, do you?”
My Mom, the Roller Blader. She wasn’t really Roller Blading. My sister was at a park, saw my Mom near a Roller Blade outfit and it didn’t take much to convince her to put it on.
My Mom: Funny Story #3
My oldest sister, JoAnn, had an engagement party in New York at my brother-in-law-to be’s apartment. Both families were equally represented and it was the first time anyone other than my sister and my soon-to-be brother-in-law ever had both families in the same room.. Throughout diner, my sister’s in-laws bragged about this book and that book..And this author and that author. This went on all evening, hardly giving anyone else a chance to talk.
Now, my Mom was an avid reader, but she didn’t feel she had to brag about it. Finally, during dessert, my Mom had a chance to speak. Rosalie, my brother-in-law to be’s mother asked my Mom, “Do you like to read,” asking it as if she were talking to some country bumpkin!
“No, Rosalie,” my Mom answered, “we don’t really read books in Baltimore. But we sure like to f*ck.”
Of course, my Mom, forgetting her manners for a moment, didn’t use any asterisks to express how she was feeling. My Mom was quite a character.
4. What Not to Buy Your Mom for Mother’s Day 2017
As my regular Readers (all 24,000 of them) know, I love to uncover brilliance–especially in marketing. It’s not easy to create something brilliant and stand out from the clutter that’s narrowcast into our eyes, ears and minds every day. The Mother’s Day 2017 campaign from the Peruvian store Oeschle does just that. It takes a stand against buying your Mom a thoughtless gift–something she doesn’t want or need
Peru’s largest retailer has raised the prices of everyday items you shouldn’t buy for your Mom. The price for a bathroom scales has been raised from $59 to$8,572. An iron is “ON SALE’ for $8,799. Ans plastic flowers are being offered for $5,672–all in an effort to get you NOT to buy them.
Click on the video so your don’t insult your Mom this year.
CREDIT: Oechsle – Mom doesn’t want it from Yoshi Ishikawa on Vimeo.
Darfuri women spend the greater part of their existence trying to feed their families.
5. Mother’s Day In Theory
Now that you know what not to buy your Mom, here’s what you should buy her: Anything she wants. Something very special.
Do you know what your Mom’s favorite thing is? Or at least something she really likes? Buy it for her even if she says, “Oh I don’t need anything. All I need is your Love.” She’s right about that. LOVE is more valuable than any material gift. But even still, honor your Mom with a gift she’d appreciate.
As longtime Readers of this blog know, I’ve been forbidden from ever mentioning the name of the Love of My Life (my wife) and her offspring (my daughter) on my blog. They don’t read it. And they want to stay out of it.
But since I know there’s little or no chance they’ll be reading this Mother’s Day blog, it’s safe to tell you want I got my wife for Mother’s Day.
Theory. That’s what I got her. No, I didn’t get her a theoretical gift, I bought her two pants, a jacket and a sweater from the well-known upscale clothing line Theory.
No, this wasn’t the gift. Just the garment bag it came in.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. I must make a lot of money writing this blog if I can afford an upscale clothing line like Theory. Well that’s true, partially. I do make a small fortune writing 10 Minutes of Brilliance. But fortunately, I bought Margaret (Wait. Forget I mentioned the name Margaret)… Fortunately, I bought my unnamed wife a few outfits from Theory’s Outlet store in Woodbury Common Premium Mall.
Here’s what I got “Sir” ( A cute affectionate nickname I have Marg,.. er, my wife) for Mother’s Day.
Sorry, Theory, I’m a Copywriter, not a Photographer. Rest assured they will look great on the woman who shall go unnamed. Happy Mother’s Day, unidentified lady.
I know it’ll look great on her because Theory always does.
Now, back to our program.
Before reading the next post, please turn out the lights and hide, so we can surprise STAN.
6. STAN Meet His Maker. The notorious STAN meet his Mother for the first time. Again!
ALL OF A SUDDEN, OUT OF NOWHERE, THERE IS A KNOCK ON THE BLOG DOOR.
SFX: Knock. Knock.
STAN: Is this a knock knock joke?
HARRIET: No, I think someone’s at the door.
STAN: I didn’t know blogs have doors!
HARRIET: Shut up, STAN, give Jack some creative license here. Will you just see who’s there??
SFX: Sound of a door opening
STAN: Yes, how can I help you?
STAN’S MOM: STAN.
STAN: Yes?
STAN HAS NO IDEA THAT THE WOMAN STANDING IN FRONT OF HIM IS HIS MOTHER!
STAN’S MOM: Don’t you recognize me, son?
STAN: Should I?
STAN’S MOM: STAN, I’m your Mother.
STAN: Right! Look lady, I don’t have a Mother.
STAN’S MOM: You do now! Jack just wrote me into the blog.
STAN’S MOUTH DROPS OPEN. HE CAN’T BELIEVE WHAT HE IS HEARING.
STAN: Are, are you sure you’re my Mom? My real Mom? (THE WORDS ALMOST GET CAUGHT IN STAN’S IMAGINARY THROAT.)
STAN’S MOM: Of course, STAN, I ought to know my own son, shouldn’t I?
STAN: B-but, how are you so sure?
STAN’S MOM: Your favorite food is steak. You hate asparagus and Lima Beans. And the only time you drink beer is when you’re having hard shell crabs.
STAN: Hard shell crabs?
STAN’S MOM: Yes, with Old Bay.
STAN: How do you know all that?
STAN’S MOM: I’m your Mother, STAN. Of course, I know everything about you. It’s in my job description. Look, if you don’t believe me, just look over here to the right.
STAN’S MOM POINTS TO THE LEFT SIDE OF THE BLOG, WHERE JACK HAS CLEARLY IDENTIFIED THIS NEW WOMAN IN STAN’S LIFE AS HIS MOTHER.
STAN: It’s true! You are my Mom! God, this is the happiest day in my blog life.
STAN’S MOM: STAN, how come you didn’t send me a Mother’s Day card? No card. No chocolates. No roses, No phone call. And when was the last time you cleaned up your room, Little Stanley? Or took a bath? Or ate your broccoli? Or visited your grandmother?
STAN IS ALL SMILES.
STAN: Listen to her. She’s only been my Mom for five minutes, and already she’s driving me crazy.
STAN’S MOM: I love you, STAN.
STAN: I love you too….Mom.
And now we pause for a moment of peace and wisdom!
“When I die, I want to go peacefully in my sleep.
Like my grandfather did.
Not screaming my head off like the passengers in his car.
OK, Goys and Birls, that’s it for today. Thanks for stopping by and for staying til the end. It’s because of Brilliant Readers like you that we now have over 24,000 subscribers. Stay tuned for a very special blog, soon. The next time I get another Brilliant Idea!
This is your bloggist, er, blogger, oh, what the Hell, it’s me saying goodbye. Good night. And drive safely.
And Now a few words from our sponsor, Me.
If you actually got to the end of the blog, then thank you so much. You’re obviously a homicidal maniac or a very loyal follower. But of you could do me one more favor and LIKE the blog and send it to your Mon. Sure, she’ll fall asleep reading it, but who cares?
And while you’re at it, tell your Mom I said hi.
CREDITS: I get by with a little help from my friends
Special thanks to two friends who are always there for me. Graphic Designer Extraordinaire Ian Tremaine who contributed Sean Spicer wearing a little egg on his face. He is my friend, confidant and partner (professional only, of course) and I am lucky to use his many talents on all things graphic. Next tim, I’ll salute other incredible Graphic dsigners who I am lucky enough to work with,
Also, thanks to Michael Yublosky who helps me with SEO. In addition, Michael is a much sought-after Linked-In guru.
That’s all for today, Readers, I appreciate your stopping by and staying for the long hall. Come back next time, whenever that is, when we will reveal The Top 10 Reasons Donald Trump Would Make A Terrible Advertising Copywriter.
Posted in Proficient Copywriter by .
The True History of Earth Day and International Earth Day.
This Saturday, April 22, the Earth will be 4.543 billion years old (give or take a few eons). And Earth Day, the annual celebration honoring Mother Earth and all the humans, plants and animals who populate the 3rd planet from the Sun, will celebrate its 47th Birthday.
At first, I thought it might be cool to celebrate the Earth’s Birthday this Saturday. But once we put 4 1/2 billion candles on a cake for Mother Earth, we realized what flaming idiots we were.
This is not just a picture of our efforts to wish Mother Earth a Happy Birthday. It is also an apt meme for what the Earth will experience once EPA Administrator Scott Pruitt ignores science and climate change and dismantles his own agency. That’s Pruitt wearing the dunce cap.
So, once cooler heads reigned, we decided it made more sense to wish Earth Day a Happy Birthday. And while I hate to brag (while I’m sleeping, anyway), there was no more appropriate person to authenticate that Happy Birthday wish to Earth Day participants than I. After all, I was once the Head of the Earth, I launched International Earth Day, and I can prove it!
“What?” you say. “That’s impossible!” You doubt there ever was a Head of the Earth! Well, it’s true.
As longtime Readers of my blog will attest, every year I explain how I was actually the Head of the Earth in 1972. I’m not claiming to have originated Earth Day. The initial celebration of the environment and planet Earth began in 1970, two years before I launched International Earth Day.
The idea for a national day to focus on the environment came to Earth Day founder Gaylord Nelson, then a U.S. Senator from Wisconsin, after witnessing the ravages of the 1969 massive oil spill in Santa Barbara, California. Inspired by the student anti-war movement, he realized that if he could infuse that energy with an emerging public consciousness about air and water pollution, it would force environmental protection onto the national political agenda. So on April 22, 1970, he launched Earth Day.
STAN: Did you see that?
HARRIET: See what?
STAN: That entire last paragraph, the one right above us. Goldman, the blogger, stole it from Wikipedia.
HARRIET: First of all Stan, the originator of this blog’s name is Goldenberg, Jack Goldenberg.
STAN: Yeah, whatever.
HARRIET: And Jack didn’t steal it from Wikipedia. He “borrowed” it from a different web site, The History of Earth Day. And there’s no harm in that. After all, Jack is a Copy-Writer!
HARRIET: But look, Stan, I’ve warned you time and again not to say terrible things about Jack. After all, you’re imaginary and Jack writes everything you say. Let him continue. Or he’s liable to kick us both off the blog. Then, the only place that’ll hire us will be The O’Reilley Factor on Fox News.
STAN: Didn’t they just just shut down?
HARRIET: Now you’re catching on!
Sorry, Readers. Where was I? Oh yeah, by 1972, two years after the original Earth Day, interest in helping the environment started to wain. So I had business cards printed that gave me the title, Head of the Earth, and I launched International Earth Day.
Wait, I see one of my Readers has his hand raised. Yes?
GEN Z READER #1: Question. What’s a business card?
ME: It’s a card that announces to a person you meet, your name, title, company, and other contact information.
GEN Z READER #2: So it announces that stuff electronically?
ME: Oh, no. On paper.
GEN Z READER #3: What’s paper?
ME: Thin slices of non-digital material manufactured from the pulp of wood or other fibrous substances.
I looked around the blog to see if anyone else had any more questions. But by then, everyone’s heads were buried back in their smart phones. (Not bad, I thought to myself. I had their attention for almost 3 seconds.) Then I saw one of my Readers reluctantly raise his hand.
BABY BOOMER: I have a question, too.
ME: Did you want to know what Gen Z is?
BABY BOOMER: No, I wanted to know what time dinner is and where’s the men’s room?
ME: Sorry, there are no rest rooms on blogs.
BABY BOOMER: And dinner?
ME: Four PM.
BABY BOOMER: Half price?
ME: Yes.
BABY BOOMER: Cool.
As I was saying, by 1972 many people were already getting tired of hearing about the environment. But I figured we still had a lot to do to tidy up the planet. So, I did the only thing a sane, sensible and caring person would do. I appointed myself Head of the Earth and announced my title and the launch of International Earth Day to the press.
You might question who gave me the authority to become Head of the Earth. Well, the position was open. And there were no other applicants. Besides, I was young and figured it would look great on my resume.
Next I carefully studied the field to learn all I could about the Earth, endangered species, plant life, pollution, green marketing, carbon cycles, population control, water and energy conservation, recycling and the myriad efforts needed to Save Our Planet.
An hour later, I started to work on business cards and stationery for my new company, Earthday.
Here is my Earthday stationary. I used it to tell the media and the world what they could do to save planet Earth. Notice the logo in the right hand corner. Can you spot the faces in the trees?
While I joke about my accomplishments now, in 1972, I was serious about helping Mother Earth. I produced ads and got local papers to run them FREE as a public service. One of my favorite ads was “The Earth is a Mother.”
I got radio stations across the country to tell listeners “The 100 Things You Can Do to Save Planet Earth.” I convinced governors to announce Earth Day proclamations, citizen groups to hold Earth Day Awareness Rallies and I even got The Today Show to interview an expert on the continued importance of the environment.
I told them all, “Hey, I’m Head of the Earth. You breathe the air. We need your help.”
My Earthday stationary was on recycled paper, so they must have figured I was for real. My biggest accomplishment was getting the support of the United Nations. Imagine getting the UN to do anything today! I remember my first phone call from someone who worked in PR at the U.N. It went something like this:
“This is Whitman Bassow. I’m in Communications at the United Nations?”
“Yes, how can I help you?” I said.
“I understand you’re running an environmental campaign for the planet and that you’re the Head of the Earth,” he said.
“Yes. Both those statements are true.”
“Well, if you’re Head of the Earth, I think we should meet,” Mr. Bassow said, laughing a little, with me, not at me. “How soon can you come by?”
I can understand why you might not believe this actually happened. But I still have the permission letter from the U.N. to prove it.
In the entire history of the United Nations, there was only one person there with a sense of humor. Somehow, he got UN to support me.
The U.N. gave me their full support. They gave me permission to use the U.N. name, logo and slogan from their “Only One Earth” Conference on my “Tickets of Admission to the Earth.” I wanted to charge people for coming to the Earth on Earth Day. A dollar for adults. 50¢ for children 12 and under.
As I saw it, while it wasn’t mandatory to have an Earth Ticket to show up on Earth on April 22, 1972, but it sure would be a nice gesture. And a cool way to donate to important environmental causes like Friends of the Earth. Friends of the Animals and The Wilderness Society.
Was my campaign for International Earth Day successful? Well, yes and no. The Earth is still here and the once-a-year fervor to care for Mother Earth has been institutionalized, commercialized and co-opted by big business all over the world. And that’s a good thing. But it’s a shame the Environmental Protect Agency is doing all it can to ignore planet Earth and accelerate climate change, rather than offering an all-important defense against it.
Still, activists all of the world will celebrate Earth Day tomorrow on Saturday, April 22, not because of what I did, but because of what Gaylord Nelson did when he launched the original Earth Day.
Follow the 6 R’s on Earth Day and Every Day: Reduce, Recycle. Restore. Reduce. Replenish. And #Resist.
As the former Head of the Earth, the least I can do is bring the Happy Birthday Earth Day cake.
Earthlings: Have a piece of Happy Birthday Earth Day cake, then let’s play Pin the Tail on the EPA
The Happy Birthday Earth Day cake is a reminder to protagonists and Earth lovers everywhere to Follow the 6 “R’s”: Reduce. Recycle. Reuse. Restore. And Replenish. Five of the 6 R’s are on the cake. I’ll add the 6th R, #Resist, and remind the US Government and the EPA that where the Earth is concerned, “You can’t have your cake and eat it, too!” After all, the Earth is a mother. And so is Scott Pruitt, just not in the same way.
A few years later, I wanted to proclaim myself “Master of the Universe.” But some damn toy company beat me to it.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. If you enjoyed today’s blog, learned something, laughed a little and are motivated to do something, anything for planet Earth, I hope you’ll sign up to receive my sometimes monthly blogs (see the top right on the blog’s Home Page) Next time, we’ll be blogging about the single best place to visit this summer, how to buy a new TV and any other brilliant ideas or stories that come to mind.
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You can’t see the cast he’s wearing. You can’t imagine the pain he must be experiencing. But when Andy Karl went onstage opening night as the lead actor in the new Broadway soon-to-be smash musical, “Groundhog Day,” he was wearing a painful cast.
The movie that mastered the repeat performance, Groundhog Day, is now a hit Broadway musical
Seventy two hours earlier, Andy Karl tore his anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) and doctors thought he might never walk again. But with true “the show must go on” mentality, his knee was drained (ouch), he underwent some excruciating physical therapy (more pain), he got a shot of cortisone, and he performed hours of re-rehearsal. Then, Monday night, opening night, Andy Karl gave the comeback performance of his lifetime.
Andy Karl carefully trots out on stage (carefully) to thunderous applause from the audience and cast. I guess after the show, they’ll have a cast party.
After the curtain call and standing ovation, Karl thrust his hands triumphantly in the air and with only two words described how he snatched victory from the jaws of defeat. “Champions adjust,” he yelled over the applause of an astonished and appreciative theater crowd.
Although the line “Champions adjust,” was originally ascribed to tennis pro Billie Jean King, both professionals join a long line of “failures” who refused to accept defeat as something permanent. Abe Lincoln lost 8 elections. Stephen King submitted Carrie to 30 publishers. Walt Disney was fired as a newspaper editor because he was told he, “lacked imagination and had no good ideas.” Baltimore Colts Hall of Fame quarterback Johnny Unitas was turned down by several pro teams by scouts and coaches who agreed, “You’re too scrawny to make it in the big leagues.”
STAN: See, Harriet, there is hope for me. I’ve failed at just about everything. I’ve had eleven marriages. More than 5 failed businesses. Been fired more times than I can remember. I’m a lousy father. Untrustable friend. I’m not honest. I don’t “pay it forward.” I’m not a nice guy. And to top it all off, I’m forced to appear on this crummy blog. But one day, I know I’ll be a star.
HARRIET: I hate to burst your bubble, Stan, but there is no hope for you. You’re destined to remain a total failure for the rest of your life.
STAN: Hah! Just as I suspected. I knew I could succeed at something!
The bottom line for you, my Readers is that if you find yourself on the floor, at the seeming end of your patience, about to give up because you believe all hope is gone, pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and get back to what you were trying to accomplish.
After all, champions adjust.
That’s all for today, my loyal 20,000 Readers. If you’re a current Reader, you’ll be invited back on Friday when we present our annual tribute to Earth Day from none other than the former Head of the Earth. If this is your first time here…
STAN: …Get out as out as quick as you can, folks! Scram! And never look back. Goldberg..
HARRIET: His name is Goldenberg, Stan. Jack Goldenberg.
STAN: Whatever. My advice remains. There is only redeeming thing on this blog and that is me, STAN the MAN. Goldman is a boring and useless writer. And he never shuts up. This blog wouldn’t have anywhere near 20,000 Readers if it weren’t for my good looks and suave style.
HARRIET: All right, Stan, that’s quite enough. You seem to forget that you’re imaginary and Jack writes everything you say.
STAN: Fake news, Harriet. Fake news!
Where was I? Oh yeah, if this is your first time reading 10 Minutes of Business, sign up at the top of the blog to get notified every time we have another brilliant though. Usually just about once a month.
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HARRIET: It’s over now. Jack’s blog is done for today. So, say Goodnight, Stan.
STAN: Goodnight, Stan
HARRIET: You know what, Stan? You’re a freakin’ moron!
STAN: Don’t try to warm up to me, Harriet. We’re still not having sex!
HARRIET: You can say that again.
STAN: I’m not falling for that one!
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A Period Commercial
In commercials, humor sells. But no matter how funny a commercial is, if you remember the spot, but not the product, #fail! That’s what makes the commercial for Hello Flo period supplies so brilliant.
It’s not easy to write a funny commercial about what it’s like for a preteen to get her first period. Or to sell a line to your client that concludes, “Do you know how hard it is to find a uterus piñata?”
It’s even more difficult to make it seem tasteful when the pre-teen’s Dad jumps out of a cake dressed as (sorry team) menstrual flow.
And when you name your product for menstrual supplies “Hello Flo,” you’re just asking for some dimwit to reject it.
But they made it. The client bought it. And now you get to enjoy it.
Duvets and Toile: Men. LOOK AWAY!
As my longtime Readers know. I am the Head of the Earth. I’ve been The Undisputed Head of the Earth since I launched International Earth Day in 1972 (two years after the first Earth Day.). But what may surprise my reading audience is that I am also the Head of my Household.
That’s right. I make All the Decisions around Here!
I know I’m Head of the Household because the other night I checked with “Sir” while she was sleeping. Soundly. And I didn’t just mumble, “I run things around here, right?” I screamed it. In a whisper. In my garage. And no one, I repeat, no one, disputed it.
So don’t think for a second that because I call my wife “Sir,” this somehow seems to imply I’m just a hired hand. In fact, I only call Sir “Sir” sometimes. I also use the terms Your Royal Eminence, Supreme Leader, Il Duce (if we’re at an Italian restaurant), the President of the United Homefront and also the Exalted Ruler and Head Hocho Solely Qualified to Find Me at Fault for Even Breathing the Wrong Way.
So Sunday morning when my wife asked me to help her fold our comforter into the duvet, I didn’t just jump to attention and do it.
Instead, I jumped to attention and pleaded, “What’s the Hell’s a duvet?”
Now if you’re a man reading this, or a young impressionable boy, I would suggest you go on to the next topic. There’s nothing for you to see here, so move along. You do not need to know what a duvet is. Ever.
STAN: Am I sensing a pattern here?
HARRIET: Whaddya’ mean?
STAN: Goldenberger’s first two stories were about…
HARRIET: Yes?
STAN: Women.
HARRIET: So?
STAN: Oh, so nothing. Hey, look, Harriet. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a member of the movement, sister. I support chick’s rights.
HARRIET: How liberated of you, Stan. You’re about as enlightened as the Trump White House.
STAN: Thanks, Harriet. I appreciate the compliment.
Duvets are strictly a female thing. Like scrapbooking, toile (don’t even ask) and Always Being Right. Thes are strictly topics under discussion for double X chromosome individuals.
Trust me. Duvets won’t even be on the Final.
That’s just one of the many differences between Men and our Supreme Rulers.
Take sex. Women don’t want to have sex unless they’re in the mood. For men, they only have to be in the room.
Women are also smarter than men. The proof? Women are always right. Men are almost always wrong. They only time a man is right and a woman is wrong is on purely male topics like TV, beer and sweating. And we’re probably close to being wrong about those topics pretty soon.
No matter how hard men try to be a fair and equal partner, women can always find something, now matter how arcane, to chip away at our self-confidence.
Let’s say you’re a man who has truly evolved past the “Hey, I take out the garbage, don’t I?” stage. And let’s say you genuinely share responsibilities as much as possible. Still, it will never ever be good enough.
Women have taken a secret pact to uphold their Right to be Right At All Times.
They’ll catch you on some technicality you didn’t even know existed. If they send you to the store for cream, you should have known they meant sour cream. “You bought pasteurized? I said fermented.”
And don’t even think about buying comfortable shoes for them. They don’t exist!
Theory pants size zero? How could they even make a size zero? Who wears them? Leprechauns?
They have an unforgiving memory. They never forget any mistake, misbehavior, misdeed, errant glance or chore not done. Recently, after a particularly long day of helping Sir stuff the duvet in a cover, return used cosmetics and shop for a Coach pocketbook (on sale), Sir turned to me and said, “You forgot to wipe off the picnic table last August.”
Guilty, as charged.
STAN: Goldbaum still didn’t tell us what a duvet is.
HARRIET: A duvet is a type of bedding that is a soft flat bag filled with down, feathers, wool, or a synthetic alternative. It is protected with a duvet cover.
STAN: What?
HARRIET: Here, I’ll show you the duvet Jack was talking about.
Duvet? Touché
12 people who had one job to do and they couldn’t do it properly
Yeah, you Morans!
Well, he almost got it right
The Bup stops here!
I guess Trump was being a Smart Alec!
Fair warning
Children. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
Not a clue what an acronym is
Remember, to write graffiti it helps to have something to say
Two brids in the hand, you know…
Never mind. I’ll have a bagel.
Time to update Windows
At least these parents know their kid
The yolks on you!
The 4 Questions (no, not those 4 Questions)
We’re launching a new feature here at 10 Minutes of Brilliance. Every blog, we’ll ask and answer 4 burning questions (not necessarily about fire) that our Readers want to know. And on Passover, who knows, maybe we will ask those 4 questions. Let’s begin.
Q. What are the odds of getting sushi when you order sushi in Los Angeles?
A. Not so good. Seafood fraud is rampant in LA sushi restaurants. Recent research from Loyola Marymount University and UCLA has shown nearly half of all types of fish sold in Los Angeles sushi restaurants may be mislabeled. Despite strong truth-in-menu laws, getting sushi when your order it in an LA sushi restaurant is becoming increasingly difficult. Smells fishy to me.
If you knew sushi, like I knew sushi…
Q. A Reader names STAN asks, “In baseball, has anyone ever won Rookie of the Year two years in a row?”
A. OK, that’s just a stupid question and we’re not even going to answer it. Next.
Q. Why isn’t there a Betty Rubble Flintstones Multivitamin?
Sad but true, Betty Rubble has never been Vitaminized
A. The vicious rumor that presidential advisor Steve Bannon has been spreading that Betty’s shape was impossible to recreate in a Flintstones Multivitamin is false. Wilma, Fred, Barney, Pebbles, Bam Bam and Dino all have Flintstones Vitamins. Even the Flintmobile was immortalized as a vitamin. But in market research tests, Betty Rubble was too unpopular to be Vitaminized.
Q. What’s the 4th question?
A. You just asked it.
Prezident Donald J. Trump is the Speler In Chief
Back when we used to communicate by using lead encased in wood to write on thinly sliced pieces of trees, spelling something was a valuable social skill. Now that we’ve been electronically tweeting and texting as a means of communication, pencils and paper have become obsolete. And it was a triple murder because Spelling has also met an untimely death.
And leading the charge of misspelled words and communication has been none other than The Speler in Chief, Donald J. Trump.
Last week when the Trump White House released a memorandum on “The 78 terror attacks ignored by the press” (NOT TRUE!) , they misspelled the word attack and attackers 27 times! And that’s no typeoh!
The misspellings really aren’t a big deal compared to the policies and actions emanating from Presidents Trump and Bannon’s White House.
The morning after his inauguration, Trump tweeted that was “honered to serve you, the great American People, as your 45th President of the United States!” Jenny Starrs of The Washington Post wrote, “The honer is all ours, sir — just as it was exactly a year ago when you tweeted: “Every poll said I won the debate last night (NOT TRUE!) . Great honer!”
I guess in a Trump Bannon World where Up is Down, Lies are Truth, Fake News is Real, and Science is Unproven, I shouldn’t feel bad about a few misspellings and grammar. But I does.
A Special Note to Real Readers and a Final Goodbye to Bots and Spam
That’s it for today, Readers. As always, I appreciate your stopping by. At one point, 24,000 people read this blog, but we were concerned some of them weren’t real people. They were bots and spam and other nefarious “individuals.” So we’ve eliminated all but a couple hundred Real Subscribers.
Since it was impossible to tell real Readers from fake ones, we may have mistakenly cut you off our Subscriber’s List. If you received this blog because you got an email from us, your Subscription in intact. If not and you’d like to continue to follow my adventures and stories online, I hope you’ll sign up again at the top of this blog. We expect some new characters to join 10 Minutes of Brilliance. I’m auditioning new characters to possibly replace Stan.
STAN: I don’t think so, Goldman,. Without me, no one would read this stinkin’ blog!
All right, now that’s enough. Say Goodbye Stan
STAN: Goodbye, Stan.
What a well behaved figment of my imagination he is.
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