An old friend wrote to me this weekend...

To be precise, she's not really old...she's 25...and at my age it's not safe to call anybody "an old friend," as when I'm 65 I won't have any proper way to describe friends who really have held out that long. Either way, this old friend has recently married a bearded fellow with a gift for writing named Ben, and she wrote to tell me that Ben recently won a writing contest in Nashville. Ben wrote about what it was like to meet his hero, Mr. Tobias Wolff.

(By the way, that was first time I've inserted a link in HTML code. It feels a little bit like going on the big-boy potty).

In his piece, Ben asked, "What is it about our encounters with people we idolize that reduces us to nimrods?"

Another gifted writer, Dave Barry, asked the same question when he spoke at Miami. He told us of the time he ran into Barbara Bush at an important socialite function, and the best thing he could think of to say to then First Lady was, "I shop at the same grocery store as your son." Her reply was simply, "oh."

I relay this to you because I, too, have been inflicted with idol-proximity-nimrod-tongue. For me, it struck when I had the chance to meet my favorite band-leader on the planet, Mr. Bela Fleck. (Say "BAY-lah"...I would have put the accent in the right place, but that would be akin to not only using the big boy potty but also finding a way to engineer it to use 25% less water without a loss in functionality).

I was just outside of Nashville, in the wooded beauty of Montgomery-Belle State Park, where Victor Wooten was holding his first Bass-Nature Camp. I was reporting on the camp for NPR (a thin excuse to spend a few days with the best bass player I've ever heard), and on the third day, Victor invited his bandmates from the Flecktones to join the campers for a jam session. Bela showed up, banjo in tow, and sat down for a bit of lunch (root soup, as I recall...it's only marginally better than it sounds). Bela Fleck, my hero...sitting just a few feet away all by himself at a picnic table. What's a musical sycophant like me to do?

I did the only thing that made any sense...I got myself a bowl of root soup and sat down across from him. With my hands trembling and my breath in short, deliberately quiet spurts, I sat down next to Bela Freaking Fleck and His Freaking Bowl of Freaking Root Soup. Holy crap...how can I eat? What if I spill a little? What if I dribble soup on my shirt? What if I miss my mouth entirely with my spoon and accidentally render the best banjo player in the world blind in both eyes? I focused a great deal of energy on getting my spoon into the soup and DIRECTLY into my mouth, so as not to allow that fiendish soup the opportunity to run. I was doing pretty well...too well, in fact, as I was concentrating solely on the soup, and not communicating with Bela Freaking Fleck.

I had to say something...but what? I mean, what do you say to the guy that you've been waiting for years to say something to? Shoot...I've had plenty of time to think about this...WHY DIDN'T I COME UP WITH SOME WITTY REMARK? I had eight hours in the car on the way down...certainly something very funny rhymes with "banjo," and fits the limerick meter. Damn...time is wasting...quick...come up with something...Justin, you've got to have something unique to offer...something that nobody else could possibly offer...

...something totally unique...

...something regional, perhaps...or indigenous to Cincinnati...

...OF COURSE! PIE! Why yes...that's it indeed! I've never had a pie better (or taller) than the Banana Coconut Cream Pecan Pie that Cherrington's used to make....and I know the owner! Why, I could even provide such a pie for Mr. Fleck, should his discriminating tastes require it! Why yes, that's perfect...I'll have a pie sent to him. Next time he's in Cincinnati, I'll have a Banana Coconut Cream Pecan Pie sent to the good boys of the Flecktones, for them to eat and enjoy! Victory is mine!

Wait...no...there's still one obstacle. How do I voice this? How do I give voice to this singular act of generosity that I intend to offer to the world's best banjo player? Why, Justin, just get straight to the point! Certainly nobody wants to delay the acquisition of PIE! Yes, that's it...just offer it.

(To unabashedly borrow a literary device from Mr. Ben Vore): BACK TO THE ROOT SOUP TABLE:

Nothing has been said for a good 45 seconds now. I've been slurping my soup as Bela Fleck slurps his. Not a word spoken....but now I've got a plan. To break the silence, I present my first words to my musical hero....


"...Hey Bela?"

"Yeah?"

"....umm....do you like pie?"



Bela stares at me with a bizarre mixture of heard-from-stupid-drooling-fans-a-million-times jadedness and did-he-just-ask-me-if-I-liked-pie novelty. He answers...

"Sure...yeah, I guess."

Now what? Man, THROW OUT YOUR OFFER! WHO IN HIS RIGHT MIND WOULD TURN DOWN FREE PIE?

But wait...what if he doesn't like coconut. It's a pretty divisive fruit, coconut. It's why Mounds haven't really hit the mainstream. What if he doesn't like it...this whole pie venture hinges on the coconut now...and you can't afford to lose the sale on the coconut element.

But...without the coconut, what have you got? Everybody has had a banana cream pie...and pecan crust is standard pie-foundation. It's the COCONUT that unlocks the Pie-ey goodness...damn you, controversial coconut! I've got nothing to offer this guy. I have nothing to offer!

So, I replied.

"OK...great."

Then, I picked up my bowl of root soup, and walked away.



This marks my last substantial encounter with Bela Fleck. It may very well come to pass that either Bela or I will pass away some day, never having improved on our pie conversation. We will never break the post-pie barrier...never jump over the hurdle that I erected with my nimrod-mouthed pieatribe.

...and I'm certain that Mr. Bela Fleck will be the lesser for it.

Peace,
Justin

I am conducting a highly scientific research experiment, and I will require your support.

I am writing to solicit your donations to a grant that will fund my highly scientific research experiment. My experiment is already in progress, so a portion of the grant will reimburse me for charges incurred in its exercise. My highly scientific research experiment is very cost-effective, and may change the future of medicine, technology and the consumer home plastics industry.

If you are not already convinced to contribute, let me explain my highly scientific research experiment:

Eighteen months ago, I began a specimen collection. My collection consists of various sizes, shapes and colors of Rubbermaid and Tupperware, which, at one point or another, each housed leftovers of a meal that my wife made. Each of these specimen containers was transported to the church where I work, and left in highly scientific refridgeration for about four hours, next to some cans of Diet Rite and an old half-eaten Wendy's salad. Then, right around noon on the day they were introduced into the church environment, they were removed from refridgeration, had the lid removed to expose the specimen to the elements, and the large majority of contents were shoveled into my mouth. Chew, swallow, digest. We will no longer follow the story of these particular contents, as they are scientifically irrelevant, and had a rather nasty end.

The remainder of the specimen...that is to say, those morsels which were stuck to the side of the container, huddled together along the bottom of the container, or were just too plentiful to eat...were then re-sealed in the container, and the container was left on my desk for the rest of the afternoon, (often with the plastic fork I had used...just a reminder to the remaining morsels not to try anything funny).

This is where things get really scientific...

After a day or so, I would, in a highly scientific manner, get disgusted by the mostly-eaten leftovers sitting on my desk in a tinted polypropylene container. I would then, with great care and precision, move said container into a large pile of similar containers, which grew ever larger in the corner of my office. I would then, with equal care and precision, tell my wife that I fully intended to take them home and wash them, and do so with a straight face. (Environmentalists are always trying to thwart scientific innovation).

After several months of such behavior, my specimen collection was complete...each container exhibiting a different stage of bacterial and fungal growth. It was at this point that we moved into stage 2...or the "Chrysalis" stage. Annoyed by the ever-growing pile of multi-colored specimen containers, I brought a large cardboard box to work, piled all of the specimen containers in, and drove home with my windows open. Upon arriving at home (and being harshly lobbied by the environmentalists to shut down the experiment and clean up the site), I highly scientifically snuck the cardboard box around to the side of the house, closed it up, and taped it shut. Thus begins the Chrysalis stage, and this is where you come in.

I am seeking reimbursement for the cardboard box (40 cents), the tape (1 cent) and the various specimen containers (25 dollars). I am also seeking adequate funds to pacify the environmentalists (pretty earrings = $39.95), so that the experiment may continue. I will also require 1lb (one pound) of Chuck Roast Sumatran Blend coffee ($7.95), a well-padded lawn chair ($15) and a good book about glass blowing or interpersonal conflict ($7-$10), in order that I might sit and observe the progress of the Chrysalis stage. Finally, I will require the sum of $200 for a three-day-stay at the Red Roof Inn down the street when the environmentalist faction decides that until I get that mess cleaned up, I can no longer live at home.

Thank you for your support. I look forward to receiving your checks, made out to me, in the mail or by PayPal. I thank you...and the future of technology thanks you.

Peace,
Justin

I have decided to open up an electronics store.

...but not just any electronics store. The most EXPENSIVE of all electronics stores. It'll be called PriceyWires, and we will charge 15% more than our competitors. We will mark up EVERYTHING, and unashamedly add extra taxes and fees at every turn. Our prices will soar over those of Circuit City, Best Buy and H.H. Gregg, and we'll have the biggest, fanciest price tags on the market.

...and the people will come.

"Why?" you ask? Well, because of my special innovation in consumer electronics retailing: I'm going to call it "Customer Service," and it's going to take the nation by storm. Here's how it will work:
1. You will enter through the gigantic sliding PriceyWires doors, and you will see uniformed sales people all over the sales floor, waiting to talk with any customers who might need assistance
2. All sales people will be required to pass a basic skills test, which will include arduous criteria such as "Must be over 14," "Must have a basic command of the English language" and "Must be able to competently identify and understand the products you are selling."
3. Our sales people will be paid solely on a commission-based basis, and will therefore be more motivated to help customers choose products. Also, a series of genital-and-car-battery-based punishments will be incurred if salesperson stands and talks to other salesperson while local church video guy stands 16 inches away, waiting for a simple answer to a very basic question about an audio adapter. (Scenario may be adapted for various situations).

I know, it's crazy...but I think it just may work. My thought is this: deep down, people really want to be treated promptly and with respect and knowledgeability when they go to purchase thousands of dollars in electronics equipment. Despite the popular notion in consumer electronics, I think that, in their heart of hearts, people actually want to be well informed by a competent sales associate when they make major purchases.

Yessir, this "customer service" thing will sweep the world.

Peace,
Justin

P.S. - Yes, this post demonstrates the exact lack of perspective on my part that I wrote about a few weeks ago...but man, dude just needed a headset for his phone, man.

I've seen many an American walking around today with an "I voted today!" sticker stuck to his or her chest.

Most of them look happy. That may be for one of two reasons:
1. Participating in the single most powerful act of democracy available to the individual fills their hearts with pride, consequently filling their faces with smile.
2. They like stickers as much as the rest of us.

I am guessing the majority would agree with #1. I, myself, am not so happy about the whole thing. Don't get me wrong...I love voting...sharing my opinion is among my favorite pastimes, as evidenced by my blog, my epinions account, and my ever-shrinking pool of sympathetic friends. I think that the ability to vote is to democracy what the Resurrection is to Christianity and what the brown-sugar apples are to Boston Market. My problem is that the system allowed me to vote for one of three people: 1. An intellectual Lilliputian with an ideology that seems more based on loosely Christian hunches than on hard facts, 2. SuperChin, the six-foot-three New England Python with a sharp wit, a forked tongue, and enough vague promises to make Herbert Hoover blush, and 3. A whole bunch of write-ins that nobody has ever heard of and who don't include the only guy I could stand to vote for four years ago: Ralph Nader.

It amazes me that, out of the 260 million Americans who make hot dogs and run banks pick up trash and provide versatile furniture solutions for modern living, THIS is the best we can come up with. All of all the men, women and brighter squirrels in this country, these two guys are the best we can think of to run the country. At the risk of being too forward, I think that should bother you too.

It's frustrating to think that I am left with the option to vote for one of two men that I don't like to have more political power than anyone else on the planet.

But...I made my vote. And no, I'm not telling you who I voted for. I want to keep the few blog-readers that I have. :)

Peace,
Justin