Farewell to the Empire

My time as a New York City resident began with a summer sublet on the low end of the Upper East Side. There was no air conditioning, one working window and an Australian roommate that randomly appeared in our shared kitchen. I had $200 left to eat, live and play until my first payday, whenever that was. On my second day of work I had to front $60 for airport cab fare. Let’s just say that in the summer of 2003, I quickly discovered how just far tuna fish and generic ritz crackers could take a man.

Then there was the promise to myself: give it a year and a half at this PR job. Get some consistent voice over gigs, and then maybe move to Cape Cod to refurbish old houses and cash in on my lucrative VO clients I will have established in that year and a half. Clearly it was sheer brilliance. Sure, I had never built anything with my hands that was worthy of a payday, but it looked pretty good on TV. Also, how hard could it be for a slightly disheveled, balding kid with a terrible VO demo to get access to the decision makers and power brokers at major media outlets?

While the promise didn’t exactly work out as planned, this New York story does conclude eight years later with a much more satisfying ending.

A new career. New friends. A wonderful wife. A beautiful baby girl. A new life.

So thank you NYC for everything. I know things started a bit rough, but I think we really had something by the end. While there are too many people to mention, here are just a few who helped make it so special.

Thanks to Delia Stein who, once upon a time in 2003, reassured me that everything would be just fine for a Boston transplant in the city. This, of course, before she fled herself to greener pastures a few months later.

Thanks to Craig Alperowitz and Dana Mellecker who took a chance on a sweaty, awkward numbskull trying to get back east after a failed 6-month experiment in LA.

Thanks to Amirah Noaman for taking me in at 1 a.m. on a Sunday when I got to my door only to discover my keys were still in Boston. She was always a great neighbor, and remains a loyal friend even if she is a terrible Netflix co-member.

Thanks to Rurik Bradbury for a friendship that began by mocking the absurdities in the PR world and grew into one of mocking the absurdities in the real world. Also, it was Rurik who helped me first concept projects that would never see the light of day, thus preparing me for a bright future in advertising.

Thanks to Joe Sullivan, for always being an earpiece, voice of reason and calming presence in my life. It was especially nice to hear the phrase “I’m thinking of making the move to NYC,” about 2 months after I got here. That fall we hauled all of our stuff from Boston into a rat-infested, 3 BR in the shadow of the Port Authority with Ben Montgomery. Pure bliss, covered in rodent feces.

Thanks to Tari Ray and Julie Roth Novack for putting up a fight with my eponymous employer to get me over to Agency.com.

Thanks to Tom Ajello for seeing something in me, and helping me make the move to the creative side of the business. The short time we actually got to work together felt like a lifetime of learning that I still put to good use every day.

Thanks to Mat Zucker for having faith and patience. I’m sure it wasn’t easy or enjoyable for him to read some of that early copy. I’m wincing just thinking about it.

To Kevin Dreyfuss and Matt Carlin for helping a PR flack get his sea legs in the wobbly pirate ship of advertising. And more importantly, for introducing me to important cultural influences like DMZ, Tim & Eric, Breaking Bad, The Wire and all kinds of other crap.

Thanks to Ben Abramowitz for pushing me to be better. It was his regular ass kickings, honest feedback, and displays of trust that gave me the ability and the confidence to do great work. What may have began as a contentious relationship has grown into a true friendship. And I swear Ben, I won’t tell anyone about your situation on the west side highway.

Thanks to Adam Romero who was the art yin to my copy yang. He gave me some much needed swagger and know-how. I gave him salesmanship and an Oxford English Dictionary. To any aspiring junior advertising team, Adam and I highly recommend joining a boxing gym together. It does wonders for both the work and more importantly, the friendship.

Thanks to Nadav Markel for reigniting a good thing and teaching me the most important lesson of all: when your socks are too wet to keep wearing, find an old long sleeve shirt and cut off a sleeve. It will be a cheaper alternative to buying new socks. Advice that I will no doubt pass on to my kin.

Thanks to Paras Shah for his friendship, imbibing, conversations, award-winning karaoke performances and putting up with my anti-Pennsylvania rants designed exclusively to get under his skin. He’s one of those guys who everyone loves to be around, and I feel lucky having been able to spend so much time with him over the last 5 years.


Thanks to the future Heavyweight Champion of the World Josh Landers for kicking my ass outside of the ring and taking mercy on me inside it.

Most of all, thanks to Rachael Simon Cordella. If she didn’t IM me that Thursday afternoon, well, who knows what this note would look like. She made me realize just how great living in NYC could be, even when I had my doubts and frustrations. Everything I grew to love about living in the city stemmed from her enthusiasm and passion for what a unique place it truly is. She took the lead and I was happy to follow.

Punching Up Lights Out

I've wanted to post my thoughts on FX's new boxing drama "Lights Out," but decided to wait until at least halfway through the season. Too often networks make programming decisions based on early ratings and keep new shows on a very short leash. This is where FX deserves a lot of credit. They believe in letting their programs find an audience and letting the writers actually develop characters without forcing them to fall into the quick gimmick. A game too many broadcast network goons play. While FX has certainly had their one and dones (Terriers, Testees), they far and away have one of the best success rates for continually delivering critically acclaimed shows.

HitFix' Sepinwall and Feinberg once described the premise as "Rocky V, if Rocky V didn't suck." Which is funny because the more I watch, the more I see the parallels to each of the characters between the Sly Stallone stinker and this show. Even the personalities are practically identical between the two sets of characters:

Lights = Rocky (former heavyweight champ from humble beginnings who doesn't know how to do anything else. Always wondering what he might have missed, punch drunk)

Theresa = Adrian (wet blanket wife, forces fighter to retire only to pull 180 and back him at fight time)

Pop = Mickey (old timer, mentor and fighting junkie. Prefers blood, sweat and tears to this modern "crap")

Johnny = Paulie (well-meaning brother whose selfishness puts protagonist in financial jeopardy)

Death Row Reynolds = Apollo (former opponent who won controversial decision over champ, comes to aid of champ in comeback)

Barry Word = George Washington Duke (evil fight promoter/bad don king rip-off)

Hal Brennan = Gazzo (local don, employer/financial backer of champ)

Omar = Tommy Gunn (cocky protege gone off the reservation, terrible haircut)

Characters aside, the show started off a bit sluggish. While the promos looked promising, the first few episodes had me wondering if FX had just recycled another obvious boxing story. The storyline had potential, but I was constantly distracted by the combination of ham-handed and cliched writing along with Razzy-worthy performances. By episode 3, it was hard to not look at this as just another cookie-cutter boxing story: Champ wins, champ loses, champ makes come back. However, I'm glad I stuck it out.

While many of the anecdotes and storylines were painful (I'm talking to you underground MMA fight), they were not in vein. Most helped move everything along for better. By the middle of the season, the stories and the characters were starting to go a bit deeper. Lights was more than just the heavyweight with a big heart. He was a wounded animal that still had a taste for blood. His desperation took a backseat to his love for fighting. It began to click. The episodes became much more watchable and the show began to break away from that Rocky V feeling. The execution could be painful at times (Seriously Mrs. Lights, Adrian was never this awful), but the good began to outweigh the bad. It was no surprise that things would work themselves out and Lights would win the big fight, but you didn't resent them for it as a viewer.

Early reviews have been positive, but the ratings have not been. The reality is boxing has a dwindling audience in reality, let alone fiction. Fans don't really care about a serial drama about a sport that has all but vanished from the sports landscape. So Lights Out will certainly have an uphill battle over the next few weeks. They'll likely find a similar fate to Terriers, a brilliant but canceled show that never found an audience.

Either way, I hope that Lights holds his own against Death Row Reynolds so that the show can get another shot. If that were the case, I'd love for them to dive into the darker corners of boxing and build around the shady the promoters, kickbacks and oppressive alphabet organizations. Part of me thinks that would have made a much more interesting, albeit likely less appealing show. Then again, part of me wants to see a former champ kick some ass every now and again.

Missing Marathon Monday

I moved from Boston to New York seven years ago. While I struggled to get used to things like the constant media onslaught or the smells, the experience I've had in New York is unlike most other places in the world. Afterall, I've been able to do things here that I never dreamed possible like meeting my wife and being able to order tacos at 3 a.m. (not weighted equally, for the record). However, there are those times when no amount of late night tacos could ever make you feel 100% complete. Last Monday was one of those days. Patriot's Day. Marathon Monday. A state-wide holiday. It's a rite of passage in the Commonwealth that let's young kids hand out orange slices to world class runners and adults to hand out beers to the jogging schlubs who bring up the rear. Even though I've been to the NYC Marathon, nothing is like the 26.2 miles from Hopkinton to Boston where it seems like everyone is out watching. And they probably area because schools, businesses and government are all closed.

This year, I was especially difficult because my friend John Doole ran the marathon for Tedy's Team, a non-profit organization named after Tedy Bruschi that raises money and awareness for stroke. As a stroke survivor at age 29 , John has an amazing story to tell. He decided to put together a video about his situation and raise money for the cause at his site www.runforstroke.com.



Additionally, here's a segment on John and Tedy's Team produced by our good buddy Jeb Fisher at NESN:


While I know the race is over, I encourage you to watch John's story and support his cause in 2011 as he tries to take down his course time from this year. Who knows, maybe he'll need a running partner for along the way.

Firm Evidence

Remember Movember

What is Movember, besides a great name? Its the one time of the year when the world gets together to help keep men's junk healthy. Sure, it's probably has a bit more direction than that, but the premise is simple: grow a mustache to raise awareness and funds for Men's Health organizations such as The Prostate Cancer Foundation and The Lance Armstrong Foundation. In the name of giving, stop motion and facial hair, I present my contribution to Movember.

Week 2: Douchebags face enslaught of Goo.

Social media folks have used many titles to describe their prowess: Ninja, expert, assassin, strongman and mom. But its the Guru that comes up big. Or in our case, the Gooroo. Aaron Strout's squad wrangles the title away from Kevin Dreyfuss' Douchebags o Liberty after putting up an impressive 125 points against the Militant Pacifists.

The biggest jump of the week belongs to Ian Schafer's Augmented Brutality, moving up 6 spots in the power rankings and 4th in the league standings. The biggest fall goes to Ken Sigel's Sobchak's Rollers after a brutal loss to the Doucebags. Looking like a child who wanders in in the middle of a movie and wants to know...

Anyway, here are the week 2 power rankings with change in rank noted next to the team.

Power Rankings for Week 2.
1. Social Media Gooroos +5
2. Douchebags o Liberty -1
3. Viral Gardeners -1
4. Augmented Brutality +6
5. Schaffer Soul -1
6. CFL is Real Football -3
7. Hard Knox Life -2
8. Munoz Mustache Club 0
9. PDX Classic 0
10. Militant Pacifists +1
11. Sobchak's Rollers -4
12. egocrusher 0

Week 1 Power Poll: Patriotic Douchebags Cleanse the Compeition

With the first week of the Social Media Fantasy Football League (SMFFL) in the books, here's a delayed Power Poll. Kevin Dreyfuss' Douchebags o Liberty take the top spot after an impressive week one win over Ricky Engelberg's PDX Classic. Only a few small shifts in power rankings with Dave Knox getting the 5th spot after a tough loss to Mack Collier's Viral Gardeners.

Week 1 Power Poll
Douchebags o Liberty 1-0-0 121
The Viral Gardeners 1-0-0 110
CFL is real football 1-0-0 97
Schaeffer Soul 1-0-0 87
Hard Knox Life 0-1-0 85
Social Media Gooroos 1-0-0 80
Sobchak's Rollers 1-0-0 71
Munoz Mustache Club 0-1-0 76
PDX Classic 0-1-0 70
Augmented Brutality 0-1-0 60
Militant Pacifists! 0-1-0 64
egocrushers 0-1-0 60

Social Media Fantasy Football

Last year, Dachis Group's Peter Kim got a bunch of social media gurus, ninjas, charlatans, and doplegangers together to exchange one kind of geekiness for another. After our inaugural fantasy football season, Peter and I discussed what improvements we'd want make to the league. First and foremost was to try to establish teams that were in it for the long(er) haul. So we're hoping to make this a keeper league where you can carry over one player per year. You'll forfeit the round you drafted him in, so it places an emphasis on value.

Among the returning and new players there's also a good mix of folks who work in different areas within social media including creative, advertising, consulting, user experience, strategy, marketing, etc. Consider this your official introduction to the league.

@80054giant, Mark O'Toole, (blog/twitter)

Augmented Brutality, Ian Schafer, (blog/twitter)

CFL Is Real Football, Brett Leach, (twitter)

Douchebags of Liberty, Kevin Dreyfuss, (blog/twitter)

*Hard Knox Life, Dave Knox, (blog/twitter)

Militant Pacifists, Paras Shah, (blog/twitter)

PDX Classic, Ricky Engelberg, (twitter)

Sobchak's Rollers, Ken Sigel, (twitter)

*Social Media Gooroos, Aaron Strout, (blog/twitter)

*The Viral Gardeners, Mack Collier, (blog/twitter)

*egocrushers, Peter Kim, (blog/twitter)

*Munoz Mustache Club, Dan Cordella, (blog/twitter)

* - return player

Now that everyone has met each other and exchanged pleasentries, go forth and talk smack. Enjoy.

Pro/Con Movie Review: The Goods

I'll take a chance on almost any Ferrel/McKay product. In addition to Anchorman and Step Brothers, the duo gave us Eastbound and Down, the best new comedy of the last year. But for every two winners, there's the occasional Land of the Lost. Although, in fairness to the duo, they usually are not involved in the shaping of Ferrell's recent stinkers (I'm talking to you too, Semi-Pro).

So, naturally I was willing to catch a showing of The Goods: Live Hard, Sell Hard. After all, it's Neal Brennan's directorial debut and if he brought 1/2 of the vision he brought to Chapelle's Show, then it would be in decent shape.

Pros:

• Katheryn Hahn bringing hilarious sexual energy.
• The Daily Show alums pulling their weight (Ed Helms playing a nimwit boybander, Rob Riggle as 10 year old with pituitary problem).
• A handful of comedic that-guys.
• A Ferrell cameo, albeit not his best, but a cameo.
• Yet Another paycheck for Ken Jeong.

Cons:

• Piven's got nothing.
• Seriously, Piven brings nothing to the role.
• The story is formulaic and predictable.
• Under-utilized comedic all-stars.
• Hahn being relegated to a bit part.
• Lame-o joke writing.
• Have I mentioned that Piven did nothing for this film?

While it wasn't an abomination, it wasn't anything I'd consider rewatching like some of its other Ferrell/McKay brethren. The biggest disappointment was that Piven just repurposed a lamer, more crude Ari Gold. It felt and looked like a paycheck part. It also made me question whether Piven can be a leading man, even in a screwball comedy. He was more charming and believable in his first comedy lead, PCU, than he was in this film 15 years later. I'll let this one slide for Ferrell/McKay and even Brennan, but I probably won't get behind any more Piven lead films any time soon.

Pro/Con Movie Review: Into the Wild

Last fall I sat down with Ladybird to watch “Into the Wild,” Sean Penn’s beautifully shot tribute to tramping. Based on the Jon Krakauer book (and his previous Outside magazine article “Death of an Innocent”), “Into the Wild” tells the story of young Christopher McCandless’s transformation from brilliant child of privilege in a dysfunctional home to Alaska-aspiring backpacking gypsy Alexander Supertramp. After watching and enjoying the movie, Ladybird recommended I pick up the book, which she had already read. Within the first few chapters I was hooked. I couldn’t put it down. And I already knew the ending. It didn’t matter. Krakauer had me. His storytelling method was brilliant as he trekked across the country retracing McCandless’s path up to his ultimate demise at the hands of the Alaskan wilderness.

When Ladybird was out to watch the latest Katherine Heigel boner deflater, I was fortunate enough to come home to see “Into the Wild” on TV. Now I could watch it uninterrupted from a different perspective having read the book.

After the first hour I became torn. I began picking up these little pieces from the film that were detracting from both my previous viewing and reading experiences. I couldn’t decide if this film was good, or I just loved the story so much that I was talking myself into it. So, I made a list of pros and cons based on my personal tastes, preferences and opinions. I wanted to see a) if this movie was as good as I thought and b) is it rewatchable.

Pros
• Visually stunning scenery makes me want to live among wolves and bears.
• ALASKA!
• Eddie Vedder’s voice making crucial plot points even more potent and relevant.
• Vince Vaughn being so damn likable, even as a scam artist.
• A genuinely emotional, yet brief relationship between Hal Holbrook and Emile Hirsch.
• Emile Hirsch being the perfect amount of annoying for the character.
• William Hurt and Marcia Gay Harden as oppressive and dysfunctional parents
• Sean Penn not caving into Hollywood pressure and keeping the heartbreaker ending.
• Emile Hirsch getting all method on our asses.

Cons
• Sweaty hippie sex
• Forced Kristen Stewart relationship that dragged story down
• Emile Hirsch doing Emile Hirsch things
• Underutilized and unnoticed Zach Galifinakis cameo
• Sean Penn encouraging actors to break the 4th wall
• Awkward fonts and graphic treatments
• Emile Hirsch and his hairy penis floating down river
• 2 and a half fucking hours


In the end, I realized that as much as I loved the story, there was one thing that prevented this movie from being both very good and rewatchable. The 148 minute runtime makes it too damn long to sit through repeatedly. Loved the characters, soundtrack and scenery, but just not enough to make me watch it again. Maybe instead I’ll just download the songs and flip on Planet Earth while rereading the Krakauer book.

Movin' on up

When determining the bottom of the barrel of New York professionals it usually goes something like this:

-Investment bankers
-Crack dealers
-Illegal Arms traders
-Real Estate agents

Although I'm pretty sure those are interchangeable. If it were up to Ladybird and me, real estate agents would vault to the top (or bottom depending on how you look at it) of that list. However, it wasn't always that way. We actually held NY rentals agents in high regard. We thought they were the ones with the power to deliver people to a good home. Friendly voices that would comfort us through a stressful search. People to listen to what we wanted and match us with a perfect residence. Stupid us.

With weekends out of town in Mid-April and a May 1 move date, we packed our first (and pretty much only) search weekend with appointments starting on Friday night and went straight through Sunday afternoon. They were packed so tight, that we feared even the slightest delay would cause a chain reaction of tardiness, leading into a downward spiral which left us blackballed by the Manhattan Real Estate Brokers mafioso and, ultimately, homeless. We would stick to our plan, meet everyone on time and find a place by Sunday at 6 p.m.

We probably should figured that it was going to be a bit bumpy when our first broker, Sarah at Best Apartments, didn't bother to show up because she had an audition. Her boss informed us that that Sarah likely didn't have anything for us anyway. Well, then.

From there, the rest of our weekend became a blur of subway rides and meetings with Manhattan's real estate intellectual elite like Piero. He decided to host an open house for an apartment he wasn't legally allowed to rent. He also happened to be from Best Apartments, the downtown branch.

With each appointment we came a little bit closer to moving back to Boston. Many brokers didn't even have keys to open the doors. They relied on buzzing every tenant and hoping someone jumped at the chance to let a complete stranger into their building. Some brokers just didn't even bother showing up. James from New York Living Solutions told us that the first places he showed were really just to "kill time until he could get the keys for the better ones." This, of course, came minutes after us informing him that we're on a tight schedule.

After smarmily telling us we wouldn't find anything in our price range, Britney from Mark David Realty got us lost on the subway and locked out of every place she promised to show us. Apparently she wouldn't find anything in our range either.

Our last appointment of the day was with Ehren, who promised 2-3 places in our range. All we had to do was come to the office and we'd head out from there. Of course when we showed up we saw the company name on the front door - Best Apartments. Ladybird suggested we cut our losses and walk away before we even step inside. Of course we naively gave them the benefit of the doubt. Afterall, maybe it was just a few bad apples we encountered in their other two locations. Not everyone in the company must have been a transplant recipient of a baboon brain. Alas, we were right. Some had gotten orangutan brains. Others had acquired ones from apes. I'm not sure which one Ehren had, but it wasn't a brain that could remember our conversation from 15 minutes prior. She had no apartments to show. If we got anything out of them, its that we learned Best Apartments is indeed a primate's dream workplace.

By the time Sunday evening rolled around we had seen 4 habitable appartments. All of which were shown to us by an overly eager, speedwalking Israeli man who told us how Ladybird and I could have a hot shower together while enjoying a slight river view. If we tilted our heads to the left.

My carefully crafted list of select real estate specialists was about be used for self-imposed paper cuts, a less painful option than meeting with the names actually on it.

After a minor freakout each night of the week, we met Reison Dominguez from A.C. Lawrence. Ladybird was skeptical since the apartment we met him at was covered in scaffolding. But that changed the second he showed her the open kitchen space and brand new floors. He took us from place to place, talked us through each one and prepped us for what we were going to see. He even had keys for each one. How novel.

Our first two places fell through: one was bad timing and the other because of a bidding war. Yes, a bidding war for rent in a crappy economy. Reison knew our tight timeline and helped us lock in a place 14 hours after our other ones fell through. It was a bit more than we wanted to pay but at that point we didn't care. It was by far the nicest building we saw and our rental car back to Boston was already idling. We had to blow town.

In the end, we are happy to have met Reison and already referred him to two friends in their search. It's a shame that for every Reison there are 10 Britney, Ehren, and Pieros in the New York real estate rental market. Even in a down economy, when brokers should be dying to make sales, connections and customers, there just aren't enough honest, capable folks to do the job. If nothing else, this experience makes me feel good to know that if my current career falls through, I can make a living in New York real estate rentals. Apparently all it takes is actually getting some keys, a little bit of listening, and a brain that's slightly more evolved than a primate.

Michael McDonald will always B there.

Saw this on Family Guy tonight:


Which made me realize that Michael McDonald is the hardest working man in the music business:

Find more videos like this on www.truveo.com.

And got me thinking about how "What a Fool Believes" got made:


Which ultimately lead to him changing hip-hop forever:


Enjoy the smooth sounds.

Sleeper Hold

Last night really began for me in the mid-1980's. I would sneak out of bed or fake some sort of insomnia/illness just to get a glimpse of Saturday Night Live. Of course, when I became a bit more technically inclined, I would just set the VCR and catch up on what I missed the next morning. Hartman, Carvey, Nealon, Miller, Myers, Hooks, Lovitz, and Dunne all became a regular presence in my popular culture.

So, when I heard that a former SNL writer from that era was taking over Letterman's spot, I couldn't help but fall in love with at least the idea. It was a perfect fit. For the first time, a network was bringing a bit of the SNL style and edge to weekday late night talk-show format. How could it go wrong? At least for us geeks who obsessed over it's weekend predecessor.

It's been documented ad nauseaum about Conan's short-comings during his first few years. To add insult to injury, my 11th grade history teacher, Mrs. French was Conan's cousin. And when we asked what she thought of his first week, all she could muster up was a "ehhhh." But I didn't care because like almost every great SNL skit from that era, there was sure to be something memorable about the show, either good and bad.

The rest is history. Things settled down. The show found its groove and regularly hit it out of the park. Conan never really grew into the role of interviewer, but it didn't matter. He knew how to make a generation laugh in a different way: Skits, self-deprecating humor, bringing guests in on the joke and great characters. Here's some of my favorites from Conan's first foray into the late night world.

The agency identity crisis

Quick question (OK, 2):
1) Is your agency, you know, if you work for an agency, more set up to succeed at Cannes or SXSW?

2) Do you want said agency to be more Cannes or SXSW?