Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Put Obama on Everything
Friday, October 31, 2008
"Sex Drive" Movie
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Bail Out Wrong People?
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Hooker Porn
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
New Free Ebook
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
I wanted to point out an additional aspect of date rape along with other advice, which comes right out of God. It’s a story in which I nearly date raped someone, which, of course, surprised the hell out of me. (Please excuse any unusual spacing, etc; it’s a problem with Wordpress and their CSS’s, which occur when you cut & paste from Word.)
The Bitter Babe
Okay, we’ve discussed the bitter friend, but what about the bitter babe? The bitter babe is very different from the bitter friend. She is pretty and fed up with men and dating. Any woman can be a bitter babe at some point in her life.
A few years ago I was at a charity fundraiser thrown by an organization called the 20/30 Club. The club was started years ago by a bunch of young male professionals who wanted to meet more women, as well as help charities. They formed an organization that uses worthy causes and social events to bring professional singles together. Two great activities killed with one stone; what a great concept. The fundraiser was held at a bar called Jack Sullivan’s, which no longer exists, which is too bad because I did pretty well with women at that bar. (Every guy has a few bars where he has good success meeting women, and a few others where he can’t even get women to acknowledge he exists.)
One time at Jack’s, Steve and I ended up standing next to a group of pretty coeds who were looking for some action. They started pulling up each others shirts and flashing one another. It’s pretty easy to hook up with a woman when all a guy has to do is say, “Nice breasts.” Clearly, God—angry that I was successful with women at Jack’s—caused the bar to be closed.
I went to the charity event at Jack’s with a few buddies. We were all looking to meet someone, not to hook up with, but to date. We arrived early enough to commandeer a table and chairs. We were there for only a few minutes when a pretty redhead and blonde walked into the bar. They walked past us and headed upstairs. I noticed the redhead glance back at me a few times. The two women set up shop near the railing of the second floor. They people-watched patrons on the first floor from their post. I caught the redhead looking at me a bunch of times within the first twenty minutes. I sized her up: very pretty, early thirties, 5’7”, good body, nice tight butt. Her breasts were a little more than a handful, which I liked. Her bright blue eyes were the kiss of death. They lured me in all the way, especially with their contrast to her long red hair.
She scanned the room relentlessly. She scrutinized guys. She seemed a little annoyed and crossed her arms repeatedly. She didn’t laugh or smile. I decided to remain at my table for the night and not hit on women. Bad strategy to meet the redhead, right? Wrong. Different types of women need to be approached using different tactics. A lot of guys use the same tactic to meet women. They go out, they approach a woman, if she’s not interested or has a boyfriend, they move on to the next one. The weakness with this tactic is that women notice when guys hop around from one woman to the next. This offends lots of them and is a huge turnoff. It only works for trixies, vain women, and girls with low self-esteem.
These three types of women have a strong need to feel like they are the most desirable woman in the room. If a guy hops around and gets positive attention from the women he approaches, he will pique the competitive interest of trixies and other women with low self-esteem. When he selects one of these girls, she feels like she has won out over the other girls. This is important to her. Confident women don’t need such an ego boost. They don’t care to talk to a guy who is so obviously on the prowl. (Incidentally, if a guy hops around and is shunned by most of the women he meets, which is often the case, girls with low self-esteem will hardly say a word to him; they don’t want to be associated with other women’s rejects.)
This explains why confident beautiful women, referred to by some as “tens” (I’m not into the whole numbering system), sometimes date physically less-than-flattering guys. They know they are stunning and they have nothing to prove, so they don’t have the trixie competitive nature. They don’t need other women to be jealous of them in order to feel complete. Instead, they can simply go out with whomever they wish, as in the case of Nikki Cox and Bobcat Goldthwait.
Why don’t I like the numbering system? It’s inconsistent. A ten to one guy is often a seven to me and vice-versa. What’s the criteria? The system is too subjective to answer that question. Lots of guys give women with big fake breasts high numbers. I don’t find anything attractive about fake breasts and give these same women low numbers. Lots of magazines rate Halle Berry as the prettiest woman in Hollywood; I prefer Claire Forlani. It’s no secret why. Compare their eyes and remember my big weakness with women. Mostly, numbering is insulting to women. Instead, I just describe the woman and guys can assign her a number based on their own preferences, if they so wish.
The redhead wasn’t a trixie. She didn’t show signs of low of self-esteem. She watched various guys operate and seemed to criticize them to her friend. Every now and then, she glanced in my direction. What did she see when she checked on me? A guy just hanging out with his friends. I talked only to the women who were near us or who approached me. I was not on the prowl.
A lot of guys checked out the redhead but she was not approachable. She did not look like she was out to meet anyone. One guy did manage to talk to her at length. He was big, probably 6’4” with a solid build, about my age, twenty-eight. He’d talk to her for a while then go hit on younger women. When that didn’t pan out, he returned to her until other young trixies caught his eye. He’d go talk to them and then return. Eventually, he reduced his hopping around to just the redhead and one young trixie. Who would be the one lucky enough to nab him? Through it all, the redhead kept checking on me. I waited patiently. The big guy’s tactic wasn’t going to work on her, so I didn’t concern myself with him. My friend Steve showed up and I pointed out the big guy while making fun of his tactics, which is exactly what the redhead was doing with her friend. I knew she’d see me doing it, too.
It was really funny. The big guy was treating the redhead and the trixie the same. This is one big flaw with a lot of the books that give advice to guys on dating—they treat all women the same. The advice they give is geared primarily toward meeting, and typically nailing, shallow, pretty women. But, they insist that the advice is good for all women. They basically lump all women together into one mold. Unfair. That’s like suggesting all baseball players are the same just because they play baseball. Certainly not true; some are better hitters, some pitch, some field better, and so forth. It is the same for women, which is why the key to success starts with observation and has little to do with following a set procedure.
The bar thinned out as closing time neared. The redhead stood alone, still watching people over the rail. Her friend was busy talking to some guy; the big guy was talking to the trixie. It was time to make my move. I headed up the stairs and walked over to her. I didn’t say anything but instead leaned over the rail, looking where she was looking. I waited a few moments before speaking, “You’ve been up here all night watching people. So tell me, what are we looking at?”
She pointed to different patrons, “Well, that guy wants to go home with her, and she likes him, and that big guy there looks like a boring fuck anyway, and that guy there is gay and doesn’t know it.”
The “big guy” she referred to was the one who had been hitting on her earlier. She went on about him, “He just wants to pick up some young woman. The whole thing is pathetic, all these people trying to lie their way into bed. I’m so sick of the dating scene. If you wanna fuck me, just say you wanna fuck me, you know?”
Direct and honest. I like that in a woman. It’s a sign of maturity and confidence. I caught a glimpse of Steve approaching out of my eye. He arrived just in time to hear “If you wanna fuck me, just say you wanna fuck me.” He shook his head in disbelief. I could have said I wanted to fuck her. A lot of guys would have, but that was the wrong way to go. She’d know I was just saying what I thought she wanted to hear, and that would annoy her.
She was hurt that the big guy was going after a younger edition and she wasn’t going to put up with that shit. What did she want? To be fucked? To leave with the big guy? She wanted a victory; not a victory as in a guy, but rather a victory in the form of being one up on men. I was happy to give it to her; she deserved it. In response to her fuck-me line, without missing a beat, I gave my reply, “Wow. You’ve stumped me. No one’s ever stumped me, but you just did.”
She smiled, “Really?”
We spoke for about ten minutes. She was very bitter. Along with being upset at the big guy and with dating in general, she was overworked at a job she hated, angry with a guy she was “kind of dating,” and upset with her family. I needed to change her focus to find success.
“Would you like to dance?”
“There’s no dance floor.”
I stepped into her, “There is now.”
She smiled again and I put my arms around her. Steve and I took a few turns dancing with her before he left. After he was gone, she and I began to kiss. Her name was Lisa. Soon the bar began to close. I walked Lisa outside. She did not say goodbye to the big guy, who had since been ditched by the trixie.
I wanted Lisa. She stirred me up and I found her to be a breath of fresh air from the trixies saturating the bars I had been to recently. When we got outside, she immediately hailed a cab. I figured she’d jump in with a quick blurb that it was nice to meet me and drive away. Instead, she opened the cab door and looked at me, “So, are we going back to your place or mine?”
Wow, what a wonderful surprise! I lived closer, so we headed to my place.
Cab drivers probably make their most money picking up a couple headed for a one-night stand. I gave him twenty dollars for an eight-dollar ride and we got out of the cab. A guy on the verge of getting lucky doesn’t want to wait for change. That’s just more time for the woman to change her mind. He wants the cab gone as soon as possible, before the girl has a change of heart and decides to take the cab home. Guys about to have one-night stands make for big tips.
Inside my place things got busy pretty fast. We sat on the futon, where I removed Lisa’s shirt and pants as we made out. She was wearing a sexy black thong and black bra. After a while I went for the bra. She pushed me away and instead tore off my clothes. She was really into biting. She took hard bites at little pieces of skin on my chest, followed by great big bites of chunks of skin. I literally thought she was going bite my nipples off. It was quite painful. She went down on me. My immediate fear was that she would bite me down there, too. (She didn’t, thank goodness.) Something told me this was as far as it was going to go—a blowjob. I wanted more, so I had to make a move.
I stopped her from sucking on me (there’s something a guy doesn’t do often), and went back to trying to remove her lingerie. The bra came off easily but when I tried to remove the panties, she held them on by the waistband. I licked her crotch. I had found this to be a good way to get panties off when women hesitated to remove them. It worked like a charm. She gasped and let go of the waistband. I slid the panties off her. I was very glad I did. She had the best shave job I’ve ever seen. Her bush was this perfect, little narrow triangle, not too big, not too small. She was a natural redhead. I rolled her over and bit her sweet ass for a while, then rolled her onto her back. Her butt was pretty mushy upon touch, which was a little disappointing but I managed to cope. I slipped a condom on and prepared to enter. She suddenly went limp. Her eyes closed and she lay absolutely still.
“Lisa? Lisa? Are you okay?” I whispered.
She nodded and muttered.
“Do you want me inside you?”
She nodded again and muttered. She was clearly out of it, or faking, angry that I had removed her panties under false pretense. It could also have been the alcohol and work stress that suddenly gave her fatigue. She lay there, practically asleep. I thought about it. She was right there, lying naked before me. She wanted me inside her and I seriously thought about it. It would have been so very easy. My faculties weren’t one hundred percent either, as I’d had lots to drink myself. I rubbed against her to see if that would bring some life into her. She murmured as though she were in a dream, “Mmm. That feels good.”
I pushed in just the top of the tip. Nothing. I backed away. She wasn’t kissing back, she wasn’t moving; she wasn’t doing anything. Is this date rape? I loomed over her for a good ten minutes, trying to make up my mind if I wanted to do her or not. She was so beautiful, lying there naked. Also, I had to pee badly, which is impossible while sporting wood, so I needed to finish to take care of that.
I decided that it would be inappropriate and for the first time I could see how a guy could do such a thing under certain conditions. The idea of banging a girl lying dormant held little interest to me. The idea of doing Lisa lying there completely naked in front of me—with a little more than a handful of perky tits and the best shave job I’ve seen—held lots of interest to me. I debated another ten minutes. A battle of will and hormones was raging and will was on the verge of defeat. Finally, though, I acknowledged that I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I pulled the futon away from the wall and opened it. I took off my condom, to help keep the hormones from resurging a more effective assault, and lay down beside her.
I watched her sleep most of the night. When it got cold, I threw a blanket over us and cuddled up against her. She was responsive and cuddled back. Every now and then I removed the blanket to look at her some more, then replaced it. I didn’t take care of my pee problem. I was afraid that if I solved the dilemma on my own, she would wake up and want to fuck. I’d have wasted a great boner, which would have been a huge disappointment to me and my hormones.
I spent about eight hours with a full erection, much longer than the suggested length Viagra warns about in its commercials. I didn’t know such a thing was possible. I couldn’t sleep, what with the naked woman beside me and my current state of excitement. I suppose I could have left her and gotten into my own bed but that didn’t even occur to me at the time. When lying next to a beautiful naked woman, not much occurs to a guy. Even if it had, getting into my own bed would have seemed like wasting a perfectly promising nude woman and no guy is going to do that.
So I lay there, for eight hours, in erotic discomfort. It was torture. God was doing some of Her best work on me. She knew I wouldn’t take care of business myself and She had made me drink all those beers to fill up my bladder. Then She knocked out the naked woman, leaving me in a frenzied state. That Bitch! Lisa woke up in the late morning with a raging migraine. I assured her we had not had sex.
“You know, you could have. I wanted to, but I think I’m glad you didn’t.”
“I don’t think it would have been any good for me with you just lying there. Sex to me is kind of an everybody-participates sport.”
I walked her out and waited for her to get into a cab. I hurried back home and took care of unfinished business. After that, I took the most satisfying pee of my life. Aaah!
I learned three things from Lisa:
· Any guy can end up in a position to date-rape someone.
· Be gentler with women’s nipples.
· There is a right way to pick up the bitter babe.
I never imagined that I would ever be in a position to date-rape someone. I was that night, though, and it took every bit of discipline I had to restrain myself. Hormones are extremely powerful, especially when they travel in groups numbering over three times the normal amount. There are different types of date rape. One type is exactly what it’s called, the rape of a woman by her date. Another type is the one I faced. It’s the type of rape where a woman no longer has the faculties to consent, usually because she’s drunk.
I think this type of date rape is quite a double standard. If a guy and girl are both drunk off their asses and they have sex, she may not be held accountable for her actions, while he could be charged with rape. If a woman isn’t responsible for consenting to sex because she is drunk, how can a guy be responsible for engaging in sex if he is drunk, too? Realistically, I don’t know how many of these cases are tried. Fortunately for both men and women, there is a naturally built-in safety switch: A guy too drunk to think clearly is almost always too drunk to get aroused.
Prior to my night with Lisa, my idea of date rape was a scenario in which the woman is drunk and the man is sober. In such a scenario, clearly the man is abusing the woman. I quickly dismissed this misconception when I found myself sprawled over a nearly passed-out woman, thinking Oh my God, this is date rape. It’s far more likely that both the guy and girl are drunk. Date rape is another good reason to stay away from drunken women. If a guy is inebriated and takes a drunken woman home, he is likely to engage in sex with her. He could be charged with date rape. Just like drunken women who go home with strangers, this guy has put himself in the unwise position of being unsafe. The best play for him is not to take her home in the first place.
I’ve been tough on some women’s nipples. After nearly having mine ripped off in a set of gnashing teeth, I learned to be gentler with nipples—not too gentle, because that’s no good either—but definitely gentler.
The bitter babe is tricky to pick up and can be a lot of work if approached incorrectly. She is worth the time, though, as usually she is not in the mood to play games, so a guy can refreshingly be straightforward. I actually learned how to hook up with bitter babes prior to meeting Lisa, but since I was successful in those stories, they have no business in this book. The quandary with the bitter babe is two-fold. First, she can be any type of woman, which needs to be determined to have a chance with her. Second, she is skeptical and critical of men. She needs to be approached carefully.
I like showing the bitter babe a good time. I feel like I am giving her some things she really needs, namely some good treatment, sex, and respect. Bitter women are mostly bitter because they have been dissed a lot, they feel disrespected. There are often times, though, when I pass bitter women over because I just don’t have the desire to sit still for a long time or have the patience to deal with their bitterness. They can be a lot of work and take much energy.
The best way to approach a bitter babe is not to approach her. Let her observe. Watch how she responds. If she keeps looking over, she is intrigued and interested. She can’t figure out the behavior and that piques her interest. Go over and talk to her. If a guy doesn’t behave the way a bitter woman expects him to behave (in short, if he doesn’t behave like a guy), he may have a chance with her. Bitter babes aren’t looking for a male; they’re looking for an anti-male. I have the bite marks to prove it.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Less Government
Anit-equity is pushed by Republicans. You must work hard for your money and prove yourself. (Unless you're a big corporation and then the government will bail you out of your mistakes. Hmm.) Does that create more or less government? A hell of a lot more. Lack of equity in education leads to more prisons, more taxes to pay for said prisons, more welfare, more taxes to pay for said welfare, more government to monitor and run all these programs, more childcare for parents who can't take care of their kids, more government to monitor children, foster parents, and so forth. If we had basic equity in education to begin with (that's one of the few places where you really need it), all that government goes away. It's easy for someone to say they create less government but look carefully to see the truth; as voters, that's our job. And, unfortunately, most of us fail to do it.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Summer in Chicago
Monday, August 11, 2008
Does Having a Book Change You? Bernie Mac's View on Change
That’s not to say that having a book hasn’t changed my life; it has. Given the subject, it has changed dating, of course. I like the girl-next-door-types; the book tends to scare them off, while attracting the more trixie-types, who I tend not to prefer. I knew this would happen, so I was prepared. It’s still, tough, though.
Mostly, having a book changes some of the people around me. Some friends feel a need to introduce me with my book-credit (”This is Ian, he wrote a really funny book”), while others keep asking me when the sequel will be written. The friend it changed the most was Cheryl (name changed to protect her identity).
I met Cheryl on New Year’s Eve at a bar called The Avenue several years ago. She had beautiful eyes and a warm smile, so I liked her, instantly. My friends and I hung out with her and her friends for most of the night. Her boyfriend was not at the party, as he was working. I got her digits before she left. We started to swap a lot of emails and got together for several dinners. I told her if she wasn’t dating someone, I would definitely be interested. (Working to steal women away from their boyfriends is immature and lame.) I didn’t like her boyfriend, though, as he spent little time with her. It seemed more like he was keeping her on the line rather than a real relationship. A few times it felt like we could get something going but she was true to her boyfriend and stuck to remaining friends with me. While I enjoyed seeing her and even having her sub occassionally for volleyball (she was only an intermediate player but the level of fun and personality she brought to the team more than made up for any lack of skill), I mostly looked forward to our conversations. Cheryl was intelligent and interesting; unafraid to speak her mind and personable. I had the feeling that she kind of wanted me to push her into having something happen; that if I did, I would be the reason for a break-up with her boyfriend. She didn’t really want to be responsible. That’s not how I want to start to date someone, so I didn’t push or pursue. In short, once I spoke my mind, I respected the friendship and had no problems with it.
If Cheryl had one flaw, it was her breasts. I don’t mean her breasts themselves, I mean her view of her breasts. She thought they were important but they weren’t. She would reference their small size in jokes from time to time. Personally, as I mention repeatedly in God, I am a butt man. Cheryl had a great ass, a nice bonus to everything else about her. When I wrote the first two chapters of God, I wanted to get some female feedback. I wanted women who I knew would tell me their thoughts; who wouldn’t sugarcoat anything. Cheryl was one of the women I asked. She gladly accepted. The first story deals with a woman who had an amazing pair of breasts. While Cheryl seemed to like the humor and candidness, after she read it, she became convinced that I was a breast man. “You’re definitely a breast man.” I repeatedly told her otherwise but she refused to believe me. There was a strong disappointment in her voice. This confirmed to me that she had an interest beyond mere friendship.
Soon after, Cheryl vanished. She stopped emailing or returning calls. No more dinners. No more great conversations. Fearing she thought I was a creep based on the first two stories, I sent her the rest of the manuscript when it was done, including the last couple chapters where I realize what an ass I had become and made changes, finding my balance. Still no reply. To this day I miss our conversations. Again, her vanishing act served to confirm my suspiscion that she had more than an interest in friendship–if she wasn’t interested, she wouldn’t care what kind of breasts I liked.
I have not spoken with Cheryl since the book was released, over a year ago. I still miss our conversations. I’ve never met anyone quite like her. I still include her in emails to my friends about doing dinner or getting together for a movie, and so forth. Why bother? Another comedian gave me some great advice once: He said, “Never change anything about yourself for anyone unless you love them and they love you.” He was Bernie Mac and as you probably know, he died this past Saturday at age 50. His early demise is a reminder of the amount of time we waste on silly things, like a lack of communication or stupid misunderstandings or allowing others to change us when we really don’t want to change. Cheryl is a great example. If she had just believed me or told me what was really bothering her, we could have easily fixed it; instead, we both lose out on a good friendship–that might have been more when the timing became right. For what? For nothing that has any substance or real meaning.
So, unless Cheryl emails me to please stop including her on emails, I will continue to include her. I can’t control how anyone else lives their life but I can control how I live mine. Remember, the only person you have to live with is yourself. You have to be true to who you are; don’t let anyone change you unless you both love each other. (In which case you probably won’t want to change each other… at least not much.) Thanks Bernie; good stuff.
Bernie Mac
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Like Animals?

My nephew is just too cool for Yellowstone.
Sometimes the only way to punish a kid is to drown him... just a little bit.

Nice waterfalls all over Yellowstone.
My nephew in his not-so-cool "safari gear;" he makes it work, though, don't you think? Look for it in catalogs this fall.Some pronghorn, the only antelope in North America and the fastest animal here, with speeds over 5o mph.
The Grand Tetons, just south of Yellowstone, exist at the end of the rainbow.
4500 total miles on the trip... you have to do something to keep from throwing up and sticking your head out the window most of the journey is the best medicine!
A grizzly 50 yards off the road, eating a roadkill deer he dragged there. Caused miles upon miles of backed up traffic and we were lucky enough to be right at the front.
You should never swim in mountain lakes; it's a warning in all the literature. You can get hypothermia in minutes, sometimes even less, even in the summer. What? Me? Oh, I'm Canadian, too, so I'm just fine. This is like warm bathwater for me and if the American part of me gets cold, I just pee... Enjoy that bottled water from the mountains you're drinking...
This moose was like 25 yards away from us on a trail we hiked. We almost didn't see him. Fortunately, we did and we just watched him while he took his sweet time foraging and moving on; he actually blocked the trail for a while. A moose is the worst animal you can run into in the woods, even more so than a grizzly or cougar. Moose don't run, they stand and fight and are highly unpredictable, unlike cougars, who will most likely run and bears, who will most likely amble away, unless you are an idiot who surprised them or inspected a carcass they are eating. Fortunately, my nephew was too cool for this moose to mess with.
For those of you who want some scenary... I tend to just take animal shots now, as I have all the scenic shots from previous trips.
A black bear.
The chef enjoys his breakfast. Just FYI, 11-year-olds make great Shirpas...
A coyote stops to check us out.
That same grizzly eats by the side of the road, on the beach. You can see the deer carcass just behind his paw.

A more traditional looking grizzly. This guy got chased by a bigger bear a few minutes after this was taken, a mere 3o yards in front of us! (We were across the road and they were on a twenty foot rise.)
Some kind of bird or something; anyone recognize it...?
Same grizzly eating off the road. He headed over for a drink to help wash down some of his meal.
After this was taken, my nephew and I wrestled the bison to the ground; we were a little bored.
Some bison after crossing a river then ambling along the road at night. Bison are starting to congregate in larger and larger numbers, as the re-introduced wolf population surges. At first, the wolves rarely went after bison, as elk are easier prey and plentiful; however, as wolves grow in number, the weaker packs are pushed into the prairies, where they are forced to learn to hunt bison or starve. Ironically, it is the weaker wolves that hunt the bison and in some cases, they gain confidence and strength, returing to elk territory, where they chase the pack away that once chased them away. An intriguing cycle. The bison can defend themselves better in large groups but then have to compete more for food. As always in life, it is a double-sided coin...
Trust me, go to Yellowstone. You can stay in cabins, hotels, camp, whatever; plenty of places to eat in the summer and so forth. It's so big, it doesn't feel crowded, even in the peak season of July. I guarantee you'll see elk and bison. Other animals, it's up to you. Moose are rare to see but we've had good luck; seen some every trip but one. (Grand Tetons are good for moose.) Cougar are nearly impossible; we had one roaming around a campground and never saw the freaking thing. Doh! (One was shot and killed in Chicago, only a neighborhood away from where I live, several months ago! Again... doh!) Grizzlies can be seen if you hit the right places in the early morning and evening, although still uncommon. Black bears are uncommon, too, and I've only seen one at Yellowstone... until this trip, where we saw like 10, including some cubs! Pronghorn are usually seen at least once, while bighorn are rarer. For eagles, it's all about reading the literature and going where it advises. Coyotes are common, wolves are rare (hate people), and foxes are extremely rare to see. (I know! Foxes?! Rare?!) We watched one hunt last summer and didn't realize how lucky we were until this trip. Get out there and have fun! Share your photos with me, though, 'kay? Thanks.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Big Bahls Done
Also, I signed the contract for saveinheritance.com's article today. The coverage will take place Spring '09 and we will reach 100's of millions of people, so I'm pleased. Hopefully, we'll kill this theft epidemic for everyone.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Inheritance Story Receives Interest of Major Media Outlet
They would like to include some more people who have had similar experiences, as additional evidence of how great the problem is. I am accepting your stories until July 15. So, if you want to share your story and be part of the media coverage, email it to me @ iancoburn@hotmail.com. I'll see if I can get you included. (If you've signed a non-disclosure agreement, I will not be able to use your story.) Thanks in advance for sharing your story and helping out potential future victims.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Big Bahls
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Media Discusses Dems -- What A Joke!
As for the media, they are discussing what Obama and Clinton did wrong and right. Please, what a fucking joke! Obama and Clinton owe everything to the media. Period. I said it before and I'll say it again, if Edwards' wife had died during the election, he'd be the candidate because he would have gotten all the free media attention. I still believe Edwards was the best option but he just couldn't compete w/all that free media Clinton and Obama got. Too bad; it seems more and more the media and $ determine the Presidential candidates. Pretty scary.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
In the Cave
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Men are "Jerks;" Women are "Bitches"
We hear it all the time. “Men are just jerks” and “Women are bitches.” Whenever guys don’t behave the way a woman wants, she or her friends almost always dismiss the guy as “being a jerk.” When a woman doesn’t do what a guy wants, she is a “bitch.” Is it true? Are most of us men “just jerks?” Are women “bitches?” Mostly, no we’re not; the problem is simply a matter of perspective. Ninety percent of the problems in the dating and relationship world stem from failing to consider the other gender’s perspective. And little “expert” advice encourages us to do so.
For all you women who experience this, and there are a lot, pay attention: You meet a guy. He says he isn’t interested in dating anyone. You have a good conversation. He asks for your number. You give it to him. He calls a few times. You have a few dinners. You end up in bed together. This goes on for a while, then after a month or two you start talking about your relationship and he bails after retorting, “I told you I wasn’t interested in dating anyone.” What a jerk! Ah, nope, afraid not; instead of dismissing him as being a jerk, consider his perspective. He tells you upfront he doesn’t want to date anyone. Later, he asks for your digits. You give him your number. In his mind you just told him you are cool with some potential simple slap and tickle. He didn’t lie to you, he didn’t mislead you; he told you exactly where he stands. I know in your head you might be thinking, “Oh, he asked for my number because I am starting to get him interested in dating… now he’s calling… now he’s asking me to dinner… he’s getting more and more interested.” Nope, he’s getting closer to the slap and tickle. If you don’t want that, when a guy says he isn’t interested in dating anyone and later asks for your digits, simply respond, “Thanks but you said you weren’t interested in dating anyone, so I’m gonna pass.” It’s a no-brainer when you consider his perspective.
If you start to consider the other sex’s perspective, you’ll quickly see that we are “not jerks” and “bitches.” For example, a lot of times we men don’t call after sex because you lied and we lost interest. The woman who had green eyes, a 36-C cup, a tight ass, and I didn’t know smoked when we left the bar, just came out of my bathroom naked with brown eyes, a pair of double A’s, a fat butt, and a cigarette dangling from her mouth, now that she had removed her colored contacts, extreme push up bra, and three sizes too tight pair of jeans. We still sleep with you on the spot because… well, it would be rude not to. But don’t expect a call from us, ever. You’re the one who misled us, not the other way around.
Flipping it on its ear, a lot of guys call women “bitches” because when they approach these women and say something witty like, “My friend wants to meet you,” the women tell them they are “lame.” How rude of them. Again, consider the woman’s perspective. She and her friends take time to decide where they are going to go to meet guys. They get dressed up. They carefully choose between a dozen different pairs of earrings, several skirts, and thirty different shoes. In short, they put effort into going out and drawing attention. They want guys who approach to show some effort with some original ice-breakers and to be confident. “My friend wants to meet you?” Ooh, how clever and original, plus your friend sounds like a real confident man, sending you over to talk to women he likes. Score! Sorry to piss on your wet dream but she’s not a “bitch;” she just doesn’t want you cock blocking the guys she wants to meet and that’s totally fair.
Or maybe you buy a woman drinks all night, so you think she owes you her time, attention, and maybe more; please, like you wouldn’t turn down a free drink. She’s not a “bitch” for taking your drinks and then not giving you any action; she’s smart and thrifty.
The more attention you give the other gender’s perspective, the better you’ll relate and the more success you’ll have with whatever it is you’re after—dating, marriage, sex, increasing your Beanie Babies collection, getting a good reference for a job, whatever. And guess what? Dating and meeting people actually becomes fun, instead of a chore.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Blog Radio Tonight!
http://blogtalkradio.modeone.net/ is the link for more information and to find out where to hear the show in your area.
Thanks for listening!
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Astute Observation by Tucker Max
http://ihopetheyservebeerinhell.com/archives/post_1.html
My reply:
Very astute, Tucker. A lot of people never get this. When I toured hard as a standup I almost missed it myself. If you’re both lucky and tenacious, one day something you start as a simple hobby becomes a job. As soon as something becomes a job, it becomes very easy to overlook the fact that you have one of the coolest jobs that exists. A lot of people would kill to have the same job. You forget these things because your priorities change—you have to pay your bills, you have to keep getting work, you have to keep the job, and there’s a shit load of competition. I forgot this myself until I met a guy playing volleyball one night. He found out what I did from someone else and came up to me, “Dude, you fucking piss me off. I’m so pissed off.”
I had never spoken a word to this guy, so I was more than I little perplexed and braced myself for a possible fight. “How’s that?”
“I pride myself on having the fucking coolest job. I work for the FBI. I’ve worked there for over five years, I get to make up names and go undercover and all that cool shit. I always ask what people do right away because no one ever has a cooler job than me. Until now. You’re a standup comedian and that is the coolest fucking job.”
I had forgotten that; I had forgotten how lucky I felt when I got my first paying gig. After hearing his insight, I made a point of just relaxing and remembering how fortunate I was from time to time. Like you point out, though, the show has to go on; every now and then I would listen to myself during the act and hear what I was actually saying. (Most of the time you’re just in autopilot, telling your bits and ad libbing where needed.) I would smile and have to hold back a laugh; if I listened to what I was saying too much, I would lose my train of thought and the show would fall apart. It’s very ironic.
Now that I’m off the road, people ask me if I miss it and will be going back. “Nope, because I don’t want to do it full-time anymore. I enjoy being able to hang out Saturday night and meet the women I want to meet or to be in town and play volleyball on the beach all day. Trying to work the road occasionally as a standup would be like a crack head trying to take just an occasional hit or an alcoholic having an occasional drink. It can’t be done in my case. I’d be sucked back in full-time; it’s my tenacious nature and the high of being on stage.”
How do I cope? There’s always another way. I re-live my comedy stories from the road in a book. And there’s plenty more where that came from. I get to relax, take the jobs I want and enjoy my freedom writing scripts for hire and working on my own stuff. When big opportunities arise, I won’t have time to savor my freedom and good fortune, so I savor it in moments like this, when things are a little quieter.
I think you are doing the best thing you can do to appreciate the success and good fortune your hard work is bringing you… you’re writing about it. It will keep you appreciating it every time you make an entry, even when it is a chore to take the time and write an entry after a long day or week of work.
BTW, I just discovered these posts and they rock; I’m gathering a lot of useful info on production, something I intend to do at some point myself, for the same reason as you: to keep an idea intact and true. As always, thanks for sharing your experiences and knowledge.



