The Super Beyond

The painful illness of my friend's father has cut-loose enough of an emotional oil-slick in me to devote some time to a Life piece. My blast on Justin Bieber's ridiculable haircut shall wait for another day.

Having lost my dad in November of 2008, and later becoming a father, I have a much greater appreciation for life, babies, mommies, and the duties of parenting. I see how much influence I may have on my son some day. And how difficult it can be to live with integrity and coolheadedness when you haven't slept much and can play 183 arrangements of "Old MacDonald" on a 1-octave plastic piano. And this is WITH technological advancements as outlets of frustration and socializing.

As I'm wont to do, time to time, I pray to God about my life. Usually I am thanking Him for keeping me alive after a litany of moves equivalent to Justin Bieber's haircut (it seemed cool at the time, but then we went on two wheels, and the gas can tipped over, and my cigarette...). Seriously close calls in my life that would have given my parents synchronized cardiac arrest had they known about it. And for some reason I am here with a beautiful wife, wonderful baby guy, awesome friends, and a bright future in a number of careers. And I have to Thank God for a lot of it.

Some people love to jump off their Agnosticar or Atheistar Van long enough to bash and/or ridicule my choice of spiritual pursuit. I pray for them, too. I don't point a finger back and tell them they're wrong for believing - or not believing - the way they do. I accept them as people, and move on. But all the same, I don't condone nor defend the Crusades, the Catholic Priest scandals, nor any other atrocity committed by a person wrapping themselves in the gossamer layers of Christianity, Religion, Islam, or Professional Wrestling. Every group's got their shit-heads.

And for every shit-head there are 1,000 fantastic people. And knowing that everybody, great and not-so, good and bad, weird and conformist, will all biologically die some day just makes me realize that our relationships to one another are the MOST IMPORTANT thing we can have in life. Especially if they are good, healthy, self-actualizing, loving, and mutually beneficial. We don't have to be close to step on toes. And we don't have to step on toes just because we're close. And I only ever wear close-toe shoes.

So if you're gonna live a long time, have some stories to tell when you get there. If you're not gonna live a long time, give everyone else a story about how you went out big. But for the sake of dead rockstars, don't just muddle about doing squat in hopes you'll just make it to 90 with a full tread on your tires. Nobody wants to hear about how you never swam the rapids or farted in your hand to smother your friend's face when camping. Especially God. No time for it.

Go live. Do one thing today that scares you or somebody else.

Justin Bieber's hair is really stupid, though. I'm happy my dad isn't alive to see it. And if I'm a "hater," I include Bieberfolliclegate among my other instances of "hating," including "Dane Cook's Act," "Fans of Insane Clown Posse," "Guys Who Make That KissyFace To The Camera," and "Misquoting PseudoJournalists Obsessed With MurderCases."

Take Me Home
My Blog About My Dad


MC, HOST, CORPORATE, COMEDY, SEATTLE, GEOFF, LOTT, NPO

Do Me A Flavor

The past year of living in Los Angeles has been weird. I've grown a lot as a person. I've had to learn to ask, persevere, promote, and deliver comedy in weirder situations than I've ever been in. That includes the time I did comedy in a cut-out of a wall over a bar, standing on a 12-inch ledge. And everything I've done in Tukwila.

I read a book earlier this year called "The Go Giver." My friend & helper-angel Ann turned me on to it. The premise of the story is that when you can, Help. It greatly changed the way I look at helping, being helped, and the entire WHAT Helping Is. A subtext that I picked up on is that there's a BIG BIG BIG OPRAH EGO-HUGE difference between Helping, and Imposing Your Will With Best Intentions.

Somebody offering to swing a hammer to erect your weekend bone-shed, that's a Helper. They are there to help you get Your thing done.

Somebody bringing a set of blue-prints and one shovel and asking you "Why are you doing it that way? Shouldn't the drain be in the middle of the floor? Are these walls sound-proof? What grade are the leather restraints?" That's a NiceHole. They are coming to help you get things done the way they would like them to be done.

And if you question their intention, up their own ass they go, pursing their lips and saying "Well...
I WAS ONLY TRYING TO HELP."

Would you let somebody pay for your groceries for a month?
If it meant they got to do all the shopping, also?

Would you let somebody buy you a car?
If it meant they chose it, but you had to gas and insure it?

Would you let somebody get you a job that paid pretty well?
If it meant you didn't know what the job entailed?

I believe deeply in helping somebody when you can, simply because you can. It just MIGHT put you out, but you can handle it. Not talkin' kidney-donation, or even any kind of organ trade.
But never, ever helping somebody "on your terms." There is help, then there is Politicking.

Nobody elected you to be a Friend.

Give. Or Get. Graciously.

Take Me Home

My Blog About My Dad