Finished Fortieth Floor

Alright, so I finished "The View From the Fortieth Floor" about half an hour ago. I've been reading it furiously, because it was stressing me out.

By the way... SPOILER ALERT for those who are THINKING ABOUT READING IT!

When you think of the phrase "the shit hit the fan", this novel captures it. White kept me wringing my hands, loosing sleep, and stressing out over this story until the last ten pages. When you've been blackmailed twice, treated like scum by a company you gave seven years of your heart to, and abused in a long term relationship, a part of you resonates when a fictional character goes through similar things. As Ridge, the main character, was blackmailed, threatened, and staring the possibility of losing the love of his life, it struck more than a nerve in my heart. What stressed me out was the unknown. Was there going to be a happy ending here? Or was Ridge going to get completely, utterly screwed over in every way possible?

Quite the opposite. I won't spoil the ending for anyone, but I'll say that the book left me heavily satisfied. Beyond so. Smiling, cheering as I read the final line, and feeling a weight lifted. Only great novels can put you through a wringer of emotions, which is why we readers dare to read them; why we budding writers are frightened to put ourselves out there to try and tell such a captivating story.

Recommended. Heavily, heavily recommended, especially for anyone who works in the marketing, creative fields, or has to deal with management responsibilities. Or, really, anyone who has ever been screwed over by The Man or has been in a position to Screw Others with The Man Cap on.

So, really, most people. Go read it!

View

Just felt like dropping a quick blog off. I've been reading this book. It's by Theodore H. White, and it's called "The View From the Fortieth Floor." In short, it's about a guy named John "Ridge" Warren who inherits Presidency over a media organization centered around two magazines named "Trumpet" and "Gentlewoman", who are being run down the drain by a board of directors and the daughters of its creator who don't really know how to properly run the business. Takes place in the late 1950s.

I'm a little over halfway through, and I've been pleasantly surprised by how it has developed. Part One is all set in one day - the day everything starts to fall apart for Warren fiscally. The day he realizes that he may be facing bankruptcy, or worse - fraud charges brought against himself - if he doesn't either fold the magazines or somehow raise enough money to get them going again. Big gamble.

But that's not all. Where it was at first all about the numbers, which marginally interest me as I work for a bank - now it's starting to inject the personal drama. And it's good personal drama too... it has to deal with his own choices in life, the hard things he's had to do that he's starting to see revisited in this situation, and he doesn't want to screw up again, especially with the lives of hundreds of employees at his hands.

I'll let you know how I feel about it when it ends, but right now, it has me feeling very introspective, as I can see a lot of my own history in this guy's life. Whether it be that he's divorced, or that he once and now again holds power in an organization that he feels very deeply charmed with. Or, perhaps, that feeling that if you don't make things work right now, you may end up on the streets. That one isn't exactly something I register with directly, but I know that feeling - that feeling of hoping you can make something work, whether it be a job, a hobby, a marriage, whatever - yet knowing that you are staring into the barrel of a loaded six-shooter without any way of knowing if the next chamber is loaded.

Good stuff, good capture of emotion. I can't wait to finish it!

Penalty!

You probably know what's coming.

I mean, ouch.

Those of you who follow me on twitter and facebook have probably already gotten a textfull of my opinions on this.

Psalm 78:58
For they provoked Him with their high places
And aroused His jealousy with their graven images.

So yeah, the bible talks a lot about graven images, things of great wealth made of gold and silver and whatnot. While Touchdown Jesus may not have been made of gold but rather highly flammable material such as styrofoam, it was a 'goldly' venture reportedly costing a whopping $250,000.

Jokes aside, Touchdown Jesus always bothered me. Just like that "HELL IS REAL" sign on I-71, or Fred Phelps (the godhatesfags.com guy), or the whole name-it-claim-it health and wealth movement. I've dissected these kinds of issues time and time again in my journey as a post-Christianity believer in Jesus, and always come to the same conclusion...

Missing the mark people.

So, while I'm tempted to make a bunch of jokes about Touchdown Jesus, I'm actually kind of smirking inside. Why? Because it seems appropriate that God might use lightning to destroy something that puts a foul odor in the noses of many people, atheists and Christians alike.

The really sad part, folks, is that Solid Rock Church will probably take an insurance claim and rebuild it. (You know, rather than injecting that money into community education programs, helping the homeless to find jobs, or cleaning up the gulf coast.) Only this time it will probably cost even more money, because well, we wouldn't want to make it out of the same, cheap, flammable material. No, we're going to want to make it out of a stronger, sturdier material, so that God can't smite it a second time.

Oh wait, we still have tornados and stuff. Cool. (Bruce Willis just mentioned meteors over my shoulder, how could I forget??)

Anyway, that's my bitter post-Christianity viewpoint of Touchdown Jesus' demise. Can anyone say "INTERCEPTION!"?

Wahh waaahhhhh.

Turntables

I'm sitting here listening to "Trespass", Genesis' second album, on vinyl. 1970, before Phil Collins and Steve Hackett. This is truly magical. I could fall in love listening to this music.

The story goes like this. I found a piece of furniture at Red Polly, during the Fabricate gallery opening on Saturday. It's just a white piece of furniture, a cross between a little entertainment center and cabinetry. It's perfect for my turntables, especially with the slots for vinyl records in the middle. Here, check it out.

I'm in a fantastically whimsical mood at the moment, listening to this album. I could easily call this the soundtrack of my soul. I've also enjoyed the Super Desserts' album, Banjo Forever, which I have been dying to listen to ever since I picked it up at their Cincinnati show. The CD I had already listened to, but listening to it on vinyl was just as magical as I thought it might be.

I have entire collection of records to enjoy now again, along with a stack of rarities my dad found at a garage sale and gave me. I don't even know what's in there... but I can't wait to find out.

So, that was definitely a drunk post.

Not exactly drunk. More sweet spot. But, you get the idea.

Wine+Beer+WeirdEmotionalShit=PublishPost

NextDay+Sober+OhIFeelLikeADishbag=ConsideringDeletingPost

But, I won't. It's out there, and it's real. Now it's time to fend off recurring stagnation without throwing caution to the wind. Yay, life.

Circumlocution

Have you ever had something happen to you that challenges parts of you in a way you weren't expecting?

Yeah, that's happening right now.

I moved down to Cincinnati for two reasons. One, because my career was being sabotaged by fanatic psychopaths who had created a work environment that was honestly abusive, and I needed to get out for my own mental health. Two, because I was in a failing marriage and I was making desperate attempts to make it work.

After four years of being in Cincinnati, I have had the brunt of my creative power drained by jaded HR reps and people who show no interest in taking a risk with raw talent, simply because I didn't go to fucking Moeller High School and don't have a relatively worthless degree in broadcasting.

Let's ignore the fact that EVERY radio station in Columbus was COPYING my work because they couldn't come up with anything original, with the exception of WNCI, who probably paid some big firm to write their modernized jingles.

I've spent the last four years working at a fucking bank. I spent SEVEN years breaking new ground in audio at a tv/radio network that was so entrenched in it's bullshit that it overlooked my talent over pure nepotism.

I love Cincinnati in many ways, but those ways can be fickle. For one, I like that it has hills, where Columbus was flat. Big fucking deal? For another, I have made GREAT friends after my divorce, and while I love my friends dearly, they aren't paving the way for me to pursue my creative passions in the most part, with the exception of Starmaker Machinery.

End rant, I am going to bed now so that I can be up in time for my training session at PNC, which does not involve cutting clips, scoring music and mastering in 7.1.

So what, I am bored at work.

One of the few sites they don't block is blogger. This is nice, because it would be a real pain to write anything of substance on my suckberry's delinquent touchscreen keypad. On that note, I have given serious consideration to breaking my contract and going with the iPhone. My blackberry storm is such an overpriced piece of dung. They shouldn't even be allowed to sell them anymore. We'll see. Maybe the 4G will come out for verizon and I won't have to break my contract? I'm not exactly against the droid, but (A) don't want to spend $500-some bucks for a new phone, and (B) I'm a mac-whore. The iPhone would most likely plug into my macbook and make life easy. I'm terrified to plug my blackberry into my macbook, because I have had three friends tell me that after doing so, their blackberry contact list went kaboom.

The Admazing Race is later today. So far, I know that I have Shanna Savage, former Starmaker Machinery founding member, and Julie Hill, illustrator extraordinaire, on my team. Team COOL, by the way. We may be joined by Ben Davis of Bad Veins. Could you think of a better team? Didn't think so. We will be armed with smartphones, smart people, bicycles, and a lackadaisacal attitude about the whole affair, which may end up paying off in the long run.

By the way, what do we win if we win? Bragging rights? A free membership for next year? A one year subscription to the jelly of the month club? A h0t date with Kevin's mom? On that note, a lifetime's prescription for chlamydia treatment?

Okay, that was harsh.

Man, I really am bored, aren't I? I may have helped like three people today, and have spent the rest of the time texting, tweeting, checking facebook, and reading about the gulf oil spill.

I really don't know why I am reading this much about it. It's like, all of this information is just making me angry at big oil. I'm doing nothing to help the problem. I really ought to like shut up and go down there to help with the clean-up effort. Maybe BP should pay companies like PNC to give their employees an extra paid week off if that week is used to join a gulf clean-up team. I would do that in a heartbeat. I think a part of why I am so obsessed with reading about gulf oil stuff is because of that whole sense of being unable to help. I mean, realistically, I can't just pack my bags, hop in my car, go down to Louisiana and help. I'm sure people would take me, but I'm not sure my car can handle that kind of a trip, and I can't afford the plane ticket right now. Now, if BP were to provide the plane ticket and housing? I'm in. Hell, I'd live in the back of a car or a trailer or share bunks in a gymnasium. It's not like I didn't sleep on the floor during Drum Corps Tour. My back might be a bit more protesting than it was when I was 19 years old, but whatev.

Well, I am going to sign off from this ramble session now. Only one more hour until I'm out of this graveyard! Watch it get ridiculously busy RIGHT AT 12:45...