10 Things Brand Link Communications Could Do That Would Be Better Than Whining on Twitter
Background: first, go read Jenny the Bloggess’s post and laugh. Unless you’re one of the 2 million people who has already read it.
Now check this tweet from the PR agency involved:
Waaah! Poor them! My black little blogger heart is bleeding!
They should learn basic damage control 101 – the only way you’re going to get people to forgive your BIG mistake is to 1) Apologize profusely 2) Say you’ll never do anything so stupid again 3) Tell us what you’re going to do to ensure it never happens again and 4) Show us you’re human.
I have some suggestions to address point #4 above. (Most of these will make sense only if you read Jenny regularly. Otherwise, as you were).
1. Post a photo of a large metal chicken at their door, with them cowering, peeping out a window.
2. Post a photo of a large metal chicken at their door, with them coming out with their hands up.
3. Make t-shirts that say “Bloggers are relevant” on the front. “Very, very relevant” on the back, with their PR company logo underneath.
4. Fire Jose (wait, did I say that out loud?)
5. Make Jose come to BlogHer and parade around in a pair of Daisy Dukes with the Karhashian’s (sic) favorite nylons on.
6. Post Jose’s new business cards with the title “PantyJose” on them (h/t MochaMomma).
7. Post photos of themselves collating paper. And holding string.
8. Make a trophy with the inscription “Most Relevant of Them All” and send it to Jenny.
9. Make a large faux-stone sculpture of the word RELEVANT and photograph Jose crushed underneath it.
10. Do anything besides whine about bullying.
PS I got a very nice note from Carol Bell, who runs the agency. Apparently the bullying has gone beyond fooling around on twitter and has included death threats and other idiocy. I’m sorry for that (wasn’t me!). I love fooling around on the internets and making jokes and carrying memes to their most absurd extreme, but I hate that it can turn ugly.
I’m not going to take this post down, though, both because Carol said it made her laugh and because I still hold out hope for seeing Jose in a pair of Daisy Dukes at the next BlogHer.
But be nice, people. Don’t make me turn this car around.
The Girl Effect
Hundreds of bloggers are writing about The Girl Effect today. What is The Girl Effect? Here’s the simple idea, in about 2 minutes:
Why? Here’s some facts:
When it comes to girls in the developing world, there is bad news and good news.
The bad news:
- 25% of girls in the developing world are not in school
- 1 in 7 marries before age 15. 38% are married by the time they are 18.
- Complications from pregnancy are the #1 cause of death for girls age 15-19 in the developing world – because their bodies are not yet ready to bear children. Compared with women age 20-24, girls 10-14 are 5x more likely to die from childbirth, and girls 15-19 are twice as likely.
- One study showed that women who are married before age 18 are twice as likely to report being slapped, beaten or threatened as girls who married later
.
The hopeful, remarkable, very good news:
- on average, when a girl receives 7 or more years of school, she marries 4 years later and has 2.2 fewer children
- only 1 extra year of primary school boosts girls’ eventual ages by 10-20%
- when women and girls earn income, they reinvest 90% of it into their families, as compared to only 30-40% for a man.
That is why the global community is now recognizing that investing in girls’ education and health is the #1 solution to bring entire families and communities out of poverty.
When girls thrive, everyone thrives. I love the video below because it shows how one confident young woman can make a big difference – she started her business with $37:
If you’d like to spread the word, write a post and link up at Tara Mohr’s site.
Here’s a giving page, too.
Flying away
Schmutzie asked us to document the sweet endings of things.
What I Learned at the National Steinbeck Center
John Steinbeck photo mural, National Steinbeck Center
The craft or art of writing is the clumsy attempt to find symbols for the wordlessness. In utter loneliness a writer tries to explain the inexplicable. And sometimes if he is very fortunate, and if the time is right, a little of what he is trying to do trickles through – not ever much. And if he is a writer wise enough to know it can’t be done, then he is not a writer at all. A good writer always works at the impossible.
-John Steinbeck
I visited the National Steinbeck Center in Salinas by myself on a Thursday afternoon when almost no one else was there. I wound around the exhibits, wandering in his life and words.
When I came to the photo you see above and looked into his eyes, I stumbled backward from the force of his gaze. The time and space between us disappeared with the recognition of what he was.
He was a writer. An odd misfit, a sensitive soul, someone unwilling to follow a normal path. He made his own way, taking up with all kinds of nutty people – drunks, prostitutes, biologists, soldiers – yet always writing. He told small stories and big ones. He sided with the underdog, over and over, even when he was called a Communist and denounced by religious leaders.
I looked into his eyes and I saw him…and I also saw me. I’m no Steinbeck – he worked harder and more seriously than I ever have, and he was more talented than I ever will be.
I also saw you, my fellow bloggers and writer-friends. We are all a part of a grand proud tradition of truth-tellers, of outsiders – the quirky people who just can’t stop themselves from writing, no matter what anyone else says to them.
I sat at the display that represented his writing desk in his little writing gazebo and I wept, awe-struck at this knowing, this gift that John Steinbeck gave me.
We are writers, and that is good.
The 10 Stages of Packing
1. Careful Consideration
Ponder the duration of upcoming trip and all possible activities.
2. Cool Determination
Make a decision to stick to a few classic pieces that can mix and match to make many appropriate outfits
3. Cruel Realization
Notice that my wardrobe contains neither classic pieces nor clothing that is appropriate for many of the things I am about to do
4. Steely Resolve
Make decision to forge ahead and use my cleverness to create a travel wardrobe without buying anything new
5. Immediate Capitulation and Utter Delusion
Desperate run to the outlet mall to make ill-thought, high-speed selections, only a few of which will actually fit or ever be worn. Convince myself that I am the type of person who wears cargo shorts
6. Momentary Relief
I can do this thing! I am woman! I have much clothing! It is all perfectly organized (Lies. All lies). I DO need 16 shirts for a 3-day trip. I JUST DO.
7. Complete Panic
None of this will work. I will look like a schlub or a lunatic. No one will talk to me and everyone will snicker.
8. Random Motion
Jam many things in the suitcase to assuage rising panic. An orange scarf that I have never worn before. Nylons not seen since a wedding in the 90s. Warm gloves. Flip flops. Jaunty hats.
9. Sudden Leave-taking
Realize I am out of time and must GO GO GO because I am already an hour later than I had planned. Pray that the zipper on my suitcase holds. Run out the door, forgetting nothing except my comfy shoes, underwear and all of my charger cables.
10. Euphoria
I’m going on a trip, y’all!
Travels with Goldie
Warning: sentence fragments ahead.
It pains me, what I am going to have to say in this post. Because you KNOW I hate to talk about All Things Fecal. But I can’t hold it in any longer. And apparently, neither can my dog.
My dog. My dear, dear old dog.
So.
Ok, here I go.
Just like Goldie did in the car.
Three times in the past week.
WHAT?
Yes, she did. In the car, people.
Three times in the past week, Goldie has pooped in the car, her area of which is fortunately protected with sheets or blankets.
Some of which are now in a trash can on Main Street.
The first time it happened, it was just a tiny thing, and I thought she might have some digestive problem.
The second time I sensed a disturbing trend and bought pet diapers. Which I could not figure out how to put on. I have never diapered ANYTHING and the whole tail/legs/wiggly dog interface made it all the more difficult.
Time number three of Number Two was the Full Monty. A literal pile o’crap on the way to mom’s before church. Nothing says a blessed Sunday morning like getting gassed to death in your own vehicle.
It didn’t bother HER. I’m hanging out the window gagging, and she’s bouncing around like a ping-pong ball as I yell “DON’T STEP IN IT! DO NOT STEP IN IT!”
The only good part was I had something to meditate on during meditation. WHAT AM I GONNA DO ABOUT MY DOG? THE DOG WHO TRAVELS IN MY CAR WITH ME EVERY SINGLE DAY??
God gave me the answer: take her for a walk before you take her for a ride. So far, God was right on. Two walks, two poop-free rides. Now I just have to leave 15 minutes earlier than scheduled and stock up on plastic bags. I hope that takes care of it.
Because the next step is a U-Haul trailer behind the car.
Update: the walks are working so far. Three days, zero incidents. Whew.
Hope
Hope is not closing your eyes before difficulties, risks and failures. It is knowing that if you fail now, you will not always fail and if you suffer, you will recover. It is knowing that life is good and love is powerful and the future is full of promises.
A little shoeshine stand in Oxnard. I thought this hand-painted philosophy captured the essence of hope perfectly.
Talent
File under: things I didn’t even know you could do until now.
Last night I was getting into bed with a book in my hand (“La Seduction,” an ironically tedious examination of all the ways the French fill their lives with pleasure).
At the same time, I was attempting to pull the covers up. Can you see where this is going? Neither did I!
The book slipped from my hand as I pulled and bashed me in the bridge of the nose. Yes, I came damn near to breaking my own nose with a book. In bed.
It takes skill, people.
Talent
File under: things I didn’t even know you could do until now.
Last night I was getting into bed with a book in my hand (“La Seduction,” an ironically tedious examination of all the ways the French fill their lives with pleasure).
At the same time, I was attempting to pull the covers up. Can you see where this is going? Neither did I!
The book slipped from my hand as I pulled and bashed me in the bridge of the nose. Yes, I came damn near to breaking my own nose with a book. In bed.
It takes skill, people.
In memoriam: W. David Bauer
Once again, I am re-posting a tribute I wrote five years ago (and have edited as I found more information) as part of Project 2,996, a blogging effort to honor each of the people killed on Sept. 11, 2001.
It is the least I can do. Each year, my stats show that, on this day, many people find this blog by searching for “W. David Bauer,” so I know that they still remember and have him and his family in their thoughts every year on this day.
I think, however, this will be the last year. It has been ten years since the attacks. We always say “Never forget,” but I know Mr. Bauer will live on in the lives of his family and in the memories of his friends.
I collected this information from other articles and obituaries found online.
**********
The victims. We hear it over and over again about Sept. 11, 2001. The 2,996 victims.
The person that I am writing about, W. David Bauer, Jr., may have been a victim for one short moment of his life. But for the rest of his 45 years, he was clearly a winner. From what I have read about him, he was a player and a competitor, someone who took to the field of life with gusto and determination and who gave it all he had.
In the NY Times tribute article, it mentions that he competed in a triathlon on the weekend of Sept. 8-9, 2001 before coming home to watch his sons play football and then to grill steaks and to drink good red wine with his family and friends.
He also played football in college at Villanova and was inducted into their Hall of Fame. One of his friends from college said “His nickname was “Superman” because he could catch the bullet passes of our starting quarterback, Brian Sikorski, with one hand, either hand!”
He also had a lifelong love of basketball and volleyball. His teammate Tom Dooley said “I knew David as a competitor on the basketball court when we were both well past our prime playing days…[He] was a gentleman of the highest caliber on and off the court.”
Mr. Bauer played professional football as a linebacker for the New York Giants and another team before being sidelined by an injury.
In business he competed and thrived. He climbed up through the ranks at Merrill Lynch, Lehman Brothers and Credit Suisse First Boston before becoming head of global sales for eSpeed, a division of Cantor Fitzgerald located on the 105th floor of the North Tower. He was one of 658 Cantor employees who died in the World Trade Center.
He also contributed to his community. He was a past President and Founding member of the Villanova Financial Club. He served on the Board of Family & Children’s Services and he and his wife were honored with the Helen Hoffman Award for Community Service. He was a member of Holy Cross Roman Catholic Church in Rumson, N.J., where he lived.
Mr. Bauer, who was 45 years old at the time of his death, was married to his wife Virginia “Ginny” and had three children, David, Steven and Jackie, who were 16, 14, and 12 when he died. He and Ginny had met in third grade.
So this is a man who lived, who really lived. He was someone who made good things happen for himself, his family and his friends. The type of hard-working, hard-playing family guy who is the backbone of our country and whom you would probably love as a neighbor.
Since Mr. Bauer’s death, his wife has become a leading advocate for the families of victims of 9/11. His children followed in their father’s footsteps, becoming championship athletes in their own right.
My very best wishes to the Bauer family. I am sorry for your loss and I hope this tribute did Mr. Bauer justice.
Here is a link to the 2,996 project.
