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One of the first jobs I interviewed for when I got out of college was with AOL TimeWarner. This was when I still thought my future was in marketing. The job opening was with their TimeLife division. You know these guys. They are the ones who spend their lives creating obscure retrospective media collections, and selling them in neatly packaged box sets, videographies, and magazine collections. So if you want the Best of Three Dog Night or a glorified collection of ZooBooks, give TimeLife a call.

Anyways, the job was to buy TV airtime for advertising such wares. It would have been a great application of my undergraduate knowledge, but as the resumes fall, it was not meant to be. But, honestly, could you see me buying and selling ad space for a living? Billy Crystal did in City Slickers, and look what happened to him. He named a cow Norman. What a boring name. Had he had a different profession, he could have come up with something MUCH better.

So even though I don’t work in TV ad sales, and never will, I like to consider myself informed on that particular industry. The premise is simple. TV stations have shows. They spend money to acquire the shows. They get money to buy the shows by selling some of their airtime to advertising. The more popular the show, the more money they can ask for. And yet, networks lose money year after year due to a revenue shortage. If this was a Best Company Ever post, I may give them the key to fixing that. But no, not today.

As I walked out of that job interview in Old Town Alexandria, I couldn’t help but notice another office building across the way. It was the PBS building (and no doubt was paid for by Viewers Like You.) PBS is the exactly the type of network TimeLife could buy ad space on which to show infomercials. In fact, I bet they probably work hand in hand over a pizza at Quattro Formaggi down the street.

But here’s the tricky thing about ad space on PBS: there isn’t any. Most of their programming runs commercial-free, which means they have an operating budget that has little revenue. Companies everywhere – denied! No space to be bought here. I suppose you could sponsor full-length programming, but then you would have to be one of two things: a LETTER or NUMBER.

What a racket.

As long as I can remember, letters of the alphabet have joint-sponsored episodes of PBS’ flagship Sesame Street with various single digit numbers. Doesn’t this seem a little fishy to anyone else? Here’s some problems with this business operating plan.

- The Letters and the Numbers must have incriminating photographs of Muppets robbing a bank, because this is a completely one-sided marketing deal. On one side, PBS gets the money to run and produce their television program. On the other, much more lopsided end, letters and numbers get blatant product placement. A large portion of the show is devoted to talking up the sponsors of the day, whether it be in character dialogue, songs, skits, or educational cartoons. My guess is that about half of each episode is dedicated to such ridiculous promotion. Only NASCAR sponsors get this much airtime. I’m appalled.

- Where exactly do Letters and Numbers get this kind of cash to be sponsoring children’s programming?? The are parts of the English language and mathematical system, not free-wheeling, spend-happy companies. I understand that Letter K makes some money through cereal, Letter O has gotten into rum, and Letter X still makes some residuals from starring on Family Feud, but surely this isn’t enough dough to produce Sesame Street! There’s some backroom accounting going on hear, I just know it.

- Why can’t other companies spend some money on America’s kids and sponsor a show? Why only the Letters and the Numbers? They’ve got a monopoly here, and Uncle Pennybags is rolling over in his graves (he’s buried in Marvin Gardens, by the way.) Just wait until the SEC reads my blog.

Waiting...

Fallen Hawk

Just when I was ready to launch into a study on the role of the English muffin in the Revolutionary War, I find that YAB has a larger purpose. Sure, it would be interesting to find whether or not this Thomas we hear of allied his breakfast food with the Redcoats or the Minutemen, but that'll have to wait. Please, if it would so please the readership, remove your hats in a moment of silence. For we have lost a true competitor.

Lane Smith, an actor for many years, died yesterday at the age of 69 after a long-term battle with neuromuscular disease, more commonly known as ALS. Smith spent most of his career on the small screen, with recurring roles in Lois and Clark and a slew of Lifetime-esque flicks. Early in his career, he grabbed roles in Network and Red Dawn, but it was in 1992 when Lane Smith made his pivotal mark on the acting profession. For Lane was cast by director Stephen Herek to play the villain in the sports genre classic, "The Mighty Ducks." Not that hockey fans needed another reason to grieve, but today we spend talking about Lane in tribute.

Coach Reilly, we are going to miss you.

Here's the thing. Lane Smith's portrayal of Jack Reilly is not what drew millions to have seen TMD in its 13 year existence. No, that would have been Coach Bombay and the Ducks. While the Ducks may have been unconventional in composition, they did the best with what the residential confines of District Five gave them. But ask any GM of the National Hockey League this: What are the key elements of winning hockey team? They'll respond simply with a laundry list of positions the Ducks managed to fill: a sniper (Fulton Reed), a gifted scorer (Adam Banks), tough-as-nails defensemen (Dave Karp), an agitator (Jesse Hall), an a moderately skilled player with a huge heart fo the game (Pacey Conway). Ok, so they lacked stellar goaltending, but they made up for it in the intangible "hijinx" category. Did the mid-90's Red Wings have hijinx? I think not. (In fact, Igor Larionov hasn't even smiled in 22 years.)

But with such a winning combination assembled under the banner of the Duck, one needs an even more menacing favorite to put them in their place for 90 minutes before they can fulfill the "Vindicated Underdog" role, so crucial in a sports flick. Said favorite would be the Hawks, the team that Bombay played for as a kid, coached by a man who's been coaching them for 400 years - REILLY.

Lane Smith made the "Mean Coach" archetype believable, and he's the lynchpin to the whole movie. Where Ed O'Neill in Little Giants and Robert Duvall in Kicking & Screaming failed, Smith succeeded. A movie coach villain must be sinister and never show a point where they turn to the good side. Even if truly inspired by the Ducks' come-from-behind win, he CANNOT appreciate their ways. He can be respectful to the winning coach, and even congratulatory, but a coach villain cannot be expected to be turned into a noble coach after one Conway triple-deke.

Man, Lane Smith just had the look. The slicked, every hair in its place look. The black leater jacket with the intimidating Hawk logo emblazoned on the back. And when things were going well, he even invokes the Dracula-inspired collar flip-up. A coach villain must be as cool as he he is hated. This is where the Iceland coach in D2 fails. Never cool. (I honestly think that this one character difference is what makes D1 far better than D2.)

And what about his strategy? A coach villain is going to play dirty, whether you want him to or not. And most likely, the refs are going to magically not see whatever wrongdoing transpires. His strategy is designed to bring the underdog to their core before rising to glory. Had Reilly not sent McGill to cross check Adam Banks on the breakaway, the Ducks would have won, and skeptics could attribute the win to them having Banks, a former Hawk. Reilly HAD to get him out of the game, so that we could see the original Ducks come together to win.

In most youth sports, the head coaches most often have a kid on the team. I can only think of one time in my youth that I knew a guy without a kid on the team. Well, in the world of coach villain, this only heightens his legend. Reilly coached a well-oiled team of kids, none of which were a Reilly. He didn't coach to be close to his son, he coached for the W. And in the eyes of an underdog, this is a far more imposing reason to overcome.

Yep, Coach Reilly, despite being a Hawk, is the heart of "The Mighty Ducks." Thanks for the performance, Mr. Lane Smith, and God Bless.

Get thee to Atlantic City

I don’t know what it was this past Saturday morning that gave me the magic touch. It could have been that muffin I had at class. At the time, I thought it was a mere above-average muffin; perhaps it was baked with luck.

Mmm…luck.

My Saturday morning class has become a product of knowledge, rather than achievement. You see, our entire grade is based on three memos we need to turn in, and there is no midterm or final to worry about. This changes my study methods dramatically. I can now pay attention and learn for learning’s sake. I no longer have to worry about what minute details needs to be furiously scribbled down. I can take in the all the public policy I want. And…

I can communicate with the outside world during the slower parts of class. This normally happens during the latter half of class. And when I began one such conversation, I had no idea that I about to invoke the power of keen foresight (which I had no idea I actually held.) The dialogue was simple. I mentioned to a friend I was driving up to Philly to watch the red-hot Phillies take on the Milwaukee Brewers. He asked for a prediction. And then I typed my prophecy.

Before I reveal, take this into consideration. For years, my dad has asked me how I thought the outcome of baseball/football/hockey scores. Being a sports fiend, I can normally give you the winner. But like any other person, pinpointing the scores and individual statistics is an exercise in futility. I might as well be stepping to the plate against Roger Clemens with a fish.

Fish make terrible bats. I make terrible bets. Nonetheless, I threw the following statline his way.

“Randy Wolf – he’ll pitch 6 1/3 innings, and surrender 3 runs on 5 hits. But the bullpen won’t hold that, probably give up two more. Phillies 7, Brewers 5.”

This random conjecture was a marginally informed one, but hey, it’s not like I had money riding on it.

Maybe I should have.

The game itself was great. Back and forth through the first 5 innings, the Fightin’s would grab a lead only to have the Brewcrew match in the following top half. 2-2. 3-3. And as the bottom of the sixth ended with a pinch hitter for Mr. Wolf, the Phils ended up with a 4-3 edge.It wasn’t until Geoff Geary took the mound that I thought to glance up at the massive left field scoreboard for Wolf’s final line. But then, like some sort of statistical magic trick, I saw it:

R. Wolf: 6 IP, 5 H, 3 R

So I was off by one hitter in the seventh. So what? I’ve never been that accurate in my life. I was so please with myself that I barely noticed Geary’s 7th inning meltdown as Milwaukee put 2 more across the place to take a 5-4 lead on the Phils.

The back and forth nature of the game, the electricity of this current hot streak, the batters due up next, it all seemed like the stars were aligning for a comeback. And then the Heavens played the clincher.

Now pitching for Milwaukee: Ricky Bottalico.

Now Ricky Bottalico has been a Phillie two or three times. He was always a little fish thrown into the shoes of a bigger fish (that is, uh, if fish wore shoes. Or had feet.) Philly knows him for the below-average reliever he is. He practically got a standing O. And this was before he gave up lead-ff singles to Michaels and Abreu. And definitely before Pat Burrell took his slider and made it a left-field stands souvenir. Thanks, Ricky.

The tilted the score back in the Phils’ favor, and after two more innings of silent bats from the visiting team, the final score was etched in the scorebook for good. Phillies 7, Brewers 5.

Somebody get me a lotto ticket.

Digital Personal Statement

Hey there. My name is Thumbkin. Pleased to meet you.

I’m Condon’s thumb. You don’t hear from me much on the blog. Typically when the bossman puts my brethren and me to work, the only key I’m responsible for is the space bar. Very little of what he has to say can be conveyed by the absence of letters. I guess that makes me a role player. Behind the scenes, contributing to the funny, but not bringing it. But that’s not today. While the other four drum incessantly on the desk during class, I’ve snuck onto the keyboard to type to you all a personal statement. And I’m going to use all the keys. Even caps lock, JUST BECAUSE I CAN.

Sorry about that.

As I inferred above, I’m far from an only child. While I may be the first of five fingers, I’ve got three brothers that are bigger than me, and they don’t let me forget it. To be completely honest, I’ve always been a bit of a loner. Every family picture has me standing far away from the others, off to the side. Heck most of those portraits have me lying on my side while the other four stand shoulder-to-shoulder like soldiers. It’s not that I don’t like my brothers; they’ve just got a different function than I do.

As far back as I can remember, they’ve all known what they want to do when they grow up. The brother closest to me is Pointer, and I bet you can guess what he does for a living. Bossman relies on him to instruct, to gesture, and to press. He’s kind of a one-trick pony. Regardless, it’s a good trick. Anytime extension is needed, he’s the one who gets the call.

Tallman is a bit of a jerk. He makes very few friends, especially when the rest of us are curled up sleeping. Then you’ve got Ringman. For 25 years, I’ve barely seen that guy lift a – well – himself. But come August 13, or so he claims, he’s going to become a lot more important. Pinky hasn’t figured out what he wants do just yet, but that freeloader seems to be content living in Ringman’s shadow.
Where does that leave me?

For months, I’ve thought I was destined to live as a finger without a cause. I’ve tried my best to pursue career paths that generations of thumbs have before, but none of them seem to be a tight fit. Many city-dwelling thumbs find work as “Public Transportation Hailers,” but I think Chris has been in a taxi maybe five times in his whole life.
I often take the lead as the hand’s “Cell Phone Dialer,” but I feel there’s not much future there either. I keep catching glimpses of the cell phone world becoming “hands-free,” and that would surely mean layoffs for hard-working thumbs everywhere. I’ll steer clear, thanks.

I hear there’s a market for thumbs who like to watch movies, as critics. Of course, the creativity level of that job is extremely limited. It’s either up or down, and that’s what America likes. I would have no idea on how to tell the public different feelings like “good with reservations” or “not a good movie, but very entertaining.” This would drive me insane.

As you can see, I’ve done my research and scoured the want ads. There’s just nothing conventional out there for a hard-working thumb. That’s why I want you to take me completely serious when I let you know what I’ve decided to do. My career selection is something in which I can excel, earn a solid paycheck, and once and for all distinguish myself from my brothers. Ok? Well, here goes nothing…

I am going to become a professional wrestler.

Stop laughing.

I’m serious. Turns out that there’s whole league of thumbs out there in the world that grapple with one another in competition. It’s a sport of dexterity and speed, agility and strength. I’ve got all of these skills, thanks to a childhood of Nintendo and Playstation. And unlike other prominent wrestling outfits of the 21st centuries, it’s not rigged. It’s a sport full of storied tradition, complete with a ceremonial song. I haven’t learned it yet, but I know there’s counting involved.

Well, this has been fun, but I have to go. If anyone asks, “Where is Thumbkin?” I’ll be at the gym.

Crazy Bald Dancing Guys Need Not Apply

It’s amazing what YAB will do for free food.

After knocking two blogs off the to-write list yesterday, a skeptical friend was so confident I couldn’t write three he bet me a free lunch. And since he had proposed an attractive wager, I even let him pick the topic. Well, you know what?

He was right.

But even with that delicious filet mignon-stuffed lobster meal in my rearview (hey, I wasn’t paying), I can’t pass up a good blog idea. Besides, I want to show the readers what is possible when you ask me to bring the funny on something you come up with. His request:

If you were building a new theme park, who would you build it around and what rides would it have? And Please justify your decision:
a) Any characters from the MARVEL comic universe
b) Any characters from a Kevin Smith movie
c) Any character from any movie that F. Murray Abraham has ever been in

You know, even if this hadn’t been posed to me, I probably would have hit it sooner or later. An amusement park is wonderful outlet to entertain the children of the world, while at the same time making money by the truckloads. All you need is a venture capitalist who likes to ride on roller coasters, and POOF! – you’ve got an amusement park.

Ok, time to “justify my decision.” I can’t choose Marvel as my theme because it’s unoriginal. The Six Flags chain has staked the claim in superhero amusements by signing a deal with DC Comics. I’m pretty sure they’ve devoted about 7 rides to the Batman franchise alone. If I were to strike a deal with Marvel, I’d have to pay them with money I don’t have, plus Stan Lee would insist on making cameos in all of the park’s stage shows. Not on my watch, Stan. Not on my watch.

I can’t choose the ViewAskewniverse of Kevin Smith for one simple reason. High-speed motorized rides should never have to involve a QuickStop. Enough said.

That leaves me with C. And what better way to celebrate the incredible acting career of thespian F. Murray Abraham than erect an amusement park that he didn’t ask for. Plus, I don’t have to sign away my first three years revenue in a lucrative corporate sponsorship deal. I just have to ask F. Murray Abraham nicely. What a gent, he is.

First things first. The park shall be named Murraysville. And it shall be located in Murrysville, PA. Elizabeth Grimm, a local in M-Ville will serve as proprietor and chief of operations. I haven’t asked her yet, but how often do you get to pay tribute to a god of the silver screen like F. Murray Abraham? Furthermore, Murrysville is a suburb of Pittsburgh, where Abraham was BORN. Freaky.

Now Murraysville will have many of the standard amusement park features that make places like Six Flags, Disneyworld, and yes, Sesame Place so successful. Concessions, merchandising, season passes – all of this will be standard operating procedure. But one cannot forget the lynchpin to the whole park: meandering characters with giant heads. What Mickey, Bugs, and Cookie Monster have done for our rivals, employees in F. Murray Abraham costumes will do for Murraysville. A couple of prototypes: FMA’s rich antique collector Cyrus Kriticos from Thir13en Ghosts, as well as the renegade Star Trek leader Ru’afo, who will promise to be nice to the children than he was to the Ba’ku race.

Did I mention we’ll have attractions? Here’s a sampling…

“88 Keys” – Take a ride with tormented Amadeus rival Antonio Salieri on a roller coaster sure to crescendo to the a melodic peak rivaling the Allegheny Mountains, only to come racing down through our frightening flames of woe.

“Shoot ‘em Up Suarez-Style” – Hey kids, ever want to be in a drug cartel crossfire? Take the trigger of Scarface’s right-hand man Omar Suarez in a battle for all the cocaine in Miami! Get a perfect score in this shooting gallery, you win a oversized stuffed elephant!

“Last Action Mirror” – Assume the role of FMA in this Ah-nold flick by not only betraying Jack Slater, but even your own sense of surroundings as you scramble to get out of this house of mirrors before Slater realizes what you’ve done.

“Finding Funhouse” – Based on the sleeper hit Finding Forrester, become condescending Professor Crawford, as you do battle with a virtual-reality Sean Connery in a battle of wits, prose, and giant foam jousting sticks.

Ok, so who wants a ticket?