William Martin
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Media Mayhem

3/25/2014

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      I don’t have the best track record of dealing with broadcast media. I can be fairly confident, hell, even sometimes cocky, but it seems that when I know more than a few people are listening and/or watching, I sometimes choke.

     The first time I ran into this was way back in the day when I was listening to the local radio station while at work. They had some kind of trivia contest going on and if you were the fourth caller and could answer the trivia question you won a baked ham or some other equally great prize.

     The trivia question was, “What actor played the original Godfather’s son who then went on to play the Godfather in ‘Godfather Part 2’?”

     Obvious: Al Pacino.

     I grabbed the phone and called the station. They played a song while waiting for callers. As luck would have it, I was the fourth caller. The D.J. asked me if I knew the answer and I went into cocky mode. Um, duh. No shit Sherlock. I gave him my name and he said he’d introduce me right after the song and then ask me the question and I could give my answer.

     I waited patiently for the song to end. The ham was practically in the bag.

     The song ended and that’s when things went to hell.

     D.J.: “On the phone we have William Martin, who has an answer to our trivia question. How are you doing today William?”

     I could hear the D.J. on the phone and through the radio simultaneously. For some reason, that just really threw me off. What threw me off even more was when I heard my own voice coming through the radio (maybe because I was cocky, the D.J. didn’t warn me that it could be an issue).

     Me: “Doing good, thanks.”

     Radio: “DOING GOOD, THANKS.”

     My eyes darted back and forth between the radio and the phone.

     D.J. (ass): “So William, what’s the answer to our trivia question for today?”

     Me (beginning to sweat): “Uhhhh. Ummmm. Uhhhh.”

     Radio: “UHHHH. UMMMM. UHHHH.”

     D.J. (after a few seconds): “William, are you there?”

     Radio: “WILLIAM, ARE YOU THERE?”

     Me: “Uhhhh. Ummmm. Uhhhh.”

     Radio: “UHHHH. UMMMM. UHHHH.”

     D.J.: “Do you have an answer for us William?”

     Me: “Uhhhh. Ummmm. Uhhhh.”

     Radio: “UHHHH. UMMMM. UHHHH.”

     D.J.: “Well, it seems William doesn’t have an answer for us after all. Be sure to check with us in the next hour for another chance to win a baked ham.”

     And then he hung up.

     I consoled myself by thinking, “Hey, it’s just a small local radio show. Who’s going to be listening to that?”

     It seems everybody listened to it. And I heard about my performance for a full two weeks afterward.

     The next time I ran into a media problem was when I was leaving work. There was a television crew outside work and the reporter asked me if he could ask me a question.

     Me: “Like what?”

     Reporter: “Who do you think will win the World Series.”

     I’ll be honest right now, even at the risk of losing man-points. I am not a sports guy. I told the reporter that and that I didn’t even know who was playing.

     I started to leave. He grabbed my arm.

     Reporter: “Look, it doesn’t really matter. We just need a sound bite to round out our sporting report. Just say one team or the other.”

     Me: “Well…who’s playing?” (I don’t even remember now, but for sake of story, let’s say it was New York and…Texas.)

     Me: “Okay, I guess I can do that.”

     He asked, and I told him my name.

     Reporter: “Great. Thanks. Okay, roll the camera.”

     The cameraman pointed the camera at me and the reporter set up his sound bite.

     Reporter: “We’re here with William Martin on the evening of the start of the World Series. So, William, who do you think will take the series this year?” He pushed his microphone towards my face.

     Me: “Oh, New York, definitely.”

     Reporter: “Okay, so why do you say that?”

     Me: “Uhhhh. Ummmm. Uhhhh. Because that’s what you told me to say?”

     Reporter: “Cut! Thanks again William.”

     By the time I wrapped my head around what had happened they were gone.

     And later that night, in all my glory, stood I, looking like someone had just shoved a broom handle up my ass saying…

     “Uhhhh. Ummmm. Uhhhh.” They had conveniently cut out the part where I said because he had told me to.

     I thought, “Hell, it’s just an 11 o’clock newscast. Who the hell stays up and watches that?”

     Again, apparently, everyone. And I heard about my performance from every one I encountered for weeks.

     I’ve had an opportunity to be on media since then, but even I can learn after a time or two, so I flatly refused.



     But if someone from the American Idol or Survivor reality shows calls, I may have to reconsider.


    

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Ah, What the Hell

3/15/2014

10 Comments

 
I was able to sleep in for a bit this morning, which everyone knows is why God, evolution, or whatever deity you follow, made Saturdays to begin with.

When I got up and looked outside I saw that it was one helluva glorious day today. Sunshine, temperatures in the mid ‘70s, hardly any wind. Definitely not a day to stay indoors.

I should point out that I’m not a morning person at all. I found out a long time ago that, left to my own devices, I would stay up until 1:00 a.m. or 1:30 and sleep in until 9:00 or 10:00. In a way this makes it difficult to get up on weekdays at 6:00 a.m., but on the plus side, I’m not really awake until about mid-morning. So, half my workday is practically done –although I may not have a real clear recollection of just what it was I did.

You take the good with the bad.

But I had to have my coffee first. Yep. I’m one of those.

I have to have two or three cups of coffee just to get my heart beating and my lungs functioning properly.

So I sat and drank my coffee and looked out on this really gorgeous day, deciding what I would do.

I noticed the lawn had grown about five feet since my last fall mowing. I should probably take care of that. It had dried enough. I could do that. My 30-year-old Sears lawnmower would be up for it. I’m pretty positive that I will die long before that thing does.

The weeds around the edge of the yard were higher than the grass, so I thought about breaking out the old weed-whacker and taking care of those.

Some of the lawn edging (okay, quite a bit of the edging) had started rotting away, so I needed to replace those. I used those red, timber things because they were cheap, but I did get a lot of mileage out of them.

My German Shepherd, Maggie, was alternately looking at me and the glass door to outside, not so subtly letting me know that she’d be more than happy to run after a stick for a few hours, if I’d be willing to throw it.

My truck hasn’t had a bath in months and it could really use a good wax as well. The interior also needs to be vacuumed and cleaned.

There was a lot of stuff that needed done inside the house too: laundry, the floors, dusting…

So I sipped my coffee and planned my day.

Then I sipped my coffee and checked my email, social stuff, news, and worked on a poem a bit –while I was waking up, of course.

When next I looked, it was 11:00 a.m. I shut down the computer and gazed again at the lawn, the weeds, the borders, my dog (who still continued to stare at me with the intensity that only dogs can do), and my dirty pickup. I also looked again at the floors, the laundry, and the dusting that needed to be done.

So I made myself some breakfast.

You can’t take on those kinds of chores on an empty stomach.

After making and eating my eggs, bacon (the fairy dust of foods), and toast (and drinking a couple of more cups of coffee), I was ready to hit it.

But by then it was almost 12:30.

Suddenly, the lawn, weeds, edging, dog, the dirty pickup, the floors, the laundry, the dusting…it all seemed so overwhelming. And in the back of my mind I knew the grass would grow again, the weeds would spring forth again, other parts of the edging would rot, the clothes would get dirty again, as would the floors and the furniture…

I wasn’t sure where to start first.

So I debated on it and tried to plan a strategy of attack.

Next thing I knew it was past 1:00 p.m.

So I had a beer and checked my email again and my social media stuff again.

Then I took a nap, because I was still a little tired.

Now it’s late afternoon and time for another beer.

Why did I get a house with a yard anyway?

Why did I insist on getting a dog?

Why couldn’t I just hire someone to clean my truck?

Why couldn’t I just wear my clothes another day or two? I mean really, who would notice?

That’s when I reached the point of “Ah, what the hell.”

And started writing my blog and having another beer.

There will be plenty of time to get to all that other stuff tomorrow.

Right?

The only thing is…I never did make it outside, but it looked great through the window.

Be well.     --William


10 Comments

Writing Drunk

3/10/2014

4 Comments

 
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This blog posting is an attempt to follow Hemingway’s advice (even though he probably put it out there when he was drunk) –although, to be honest, I don’t know if I’ll have time to get around to the second part of his aphorism (added points, props, and/or gropes for me for using the term aphorism!).

Drinks…I’ve had a few.

Whooo Hooo!

See how easily I fired a rhyme right off the bat without even half-trying? Sometimes I think I could be this generation’s limerick king. God knows I’ve tried to incorporate rhyme, rhythm and structure in a number of my poems. Editors seem to think it’s out of date to write poems with a definite structure or rhyme scheme (I hear Robert Frost rolling over in his grave about now). Of course, there’s always the possibility they simply think my poetry sucks. If that’s the case, then…go figure.

Apparently, it’s better to simply throw out lines of writing which may (but probably not) fuse itself into a coherent message. Or, at least, if the message isn’t incoherent, it engages your mind to the point where you’re having brain cramps --if not total seizures. That’s when, as a literary type, you have to pretend there is a VERY deep meaning in the poem that you can discern even though no one else can.

For example:

New Poem


I look out on the meadow,
And see,
Nothing.
Laughing because you’ve missed,
The pot-o-gold.
While unicorns laugh,
And the midget jots down notes,
So the tyrannosaurus can’t see.

You soon will be,
A blur on route 66.
It’s a mixture of reality,
And fantasy.
Yet only you can,
Know,
Where fun, death, hatred,
And love,
Intersect.

                                   --William Martin

Who knows? That could easily be my most praised poem yet. All it takes is for the right people to stare down their noses, read it at just the right time, and discover its meaning. (Shhhh. Just between you and me it’s a crap-load of nonsense. I just spewed it out there. It took me all of two minutes.)

Drinks…I’ve had a couple of more.

Why write? Well, in all honesty, fucked if I know. Sometimes I think if I didn’t write another word in my life, no one would be the wiser. Other times I think I don't want to be on my death bed thinking, “Hey, asshole! There was a lot you could have put out there that you never did.”

Anyway, I’ll keep putting my drivel out there…in poems, short stories, essays, blogs, and novels. I’ll feel better just for exposing myself a bit more (okay, if that doesn’t sound Freudian and/or pervy, nothing will) and hope there are a few who will understand.

Let me know if you’re one of those. Sometimes I think there are fewer and fewer of us in this world.

By the way: all crap I’ve thrown out here on this blog is copyright to whoever would feel comfortable repeating it.

It’s just the way I roll.

Regrets? Well, I’m going to have another few.

And a couple more drinks.

It could be that Hemingway guy was onto something.

Gonna move from the beer to the Irish whiskey now.

And I hope, as always, you all will be well.

                                                            --William Martin

4 Comments

Camouflaged Confusion

3/1/2014

8 Comments

 
Okay, in the interest of full disclosure, I should admit that I’m a shoe whore. Advertisements for OnlineShoes.com show up on my Facebook page. Facebook ratted me out to the internet’s all time bigmouth, Google. They’ve found me out. Now I have ads showing up on Yahoo, GuitarCenter.com and even Internet Movie Database.

I’m not too smart when it comes to technology, so in the onslaught of these ads I’ve simply taken on a higher level of paranoia. Big brother is watching. Big brother knows the styles of shoes I like. Big brother knows I’m a shoe whore.

But one thing has given me pause to think (hey, anything that gives me pause to think can’t be all bad). When I recently clicked on the OnlineShoe advertisement I was kicked to a description of camouflaged shoes.

Okay.

Camouflaged shoes in and of themselves aren’t a bad thing; they go well with other camo clothing when you’re attempting to sneak around the woods undetected by animals that will detect you five miles off by scent alone. But these were camo tennis shoes. As I browsed further, I also found camo boots (okay, I get that), camo slippers (I guess if you want to be comfy as you sneak up on that grizzly), camo…etc.

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But it didn’t end there. And the more I looked, the more I realized just how strange the world has become. I had always assumed that the purpose of camouflage was to remain undetected. Sort of like this guy: 
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To say I was wrong would be an understatement of monumental proportions. Here are just a few of the camouflaged items you can buy:
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Okay, these are just wrong. What the hell are you going to be sneaking up on in your (I have to say it) tighty-camo-ies? And you can thank me for not showing you the other side of these. Ew. If they have these for women (yes they do) would some women be in danger of showing a "camo-toe?"

Another odd item:
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I'm actually okay with these. Yes, I know it's a double standard, but it's my blog...so there. I can imagine my wife becoming invisible in these and me having to find her by groping around. But the camo-craze doesn't end there:
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Game animals would never see you coming in this. Of course, they'd be able to hear your hugely obnoxious diesel engine from ten miles away, but maybe you could sneak up on them in your tighty-camoies first and slip some earmuffs on them, then sneak back to your truck to sneak up on 'em again and get 'em. But my camo research didn't end there:
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Nothing says "class" like inviting your guests to enjoy their wine in these lovely camo wineglasses. You might be careful though and not drink outdoors, just in case someone sets their glass down and it becomes invisible in its surroundings. Much better to keep the wine tasting to the room where you have the dartboard and the poster of dogs playing poker. Hey! Unscrew the cap on that Thunderbird! 2013 was a good year!

Next on our camo journey:
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Again, I'm okay with these. For some reason I think they're kinda hot. I know, I know. It's the double standards thing again. Guys, if your date is wearing these, you'd better be ready to put on your best suit and wear these:
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Who knows? Maybe between the camo shoes and camo wine your date will go really well, and you'll find yourselves snuggling up (or trying to find each other) on this:
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(By the way, there is a small child and two Chihuahuas on the sofa...see if you can spot them).



Okay. I lied. There are no Chihuahuas. But you'd better be careful on the sofa or in nine months you could find yourself in need of one of these:
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Put a baby dressed in a camo onsie (yes, they make those too) and you may never find the little critter again.

As anyone knows, you can play it safe and avoid having to purchase the above by purchasing this:
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You know as immature as I am I immediately got the joke of their catchphrase. At least I think it was a catchphrase joke. Anyhoo...


This is a guitar used by the rock group "Where the Hell are We?" I'm told they sound great, buy you'll have a hard time seeing them onstage.
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And finally, the camouflaged product I know you've all been waiting for:
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I don't know about you, but I pretty much have all of my next Christmas gift list covered now. And I've barely wiped (sorry) the surface of what's available in camouflage. I'm trying to think of other things to camo so I can get in on this trend and make some quick cash. If you have any ideas, please contact me and we'll see if we can't make a ton of money together...wait...that's it...camouflaged money! Sweet!
8 Comments

    William Martin

    Just observing, sometimes remembering, often shaking my head, then writing.

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