TomTastic Voyage!

We need Jobs!

2011-10-07T00:33:00.000-07:00

It can't help but strike me as symbolic (and worth talking about) that Steve Jobs died as people took to the streets to protest the grotesque difference between the wealthy and poor in this country.

I'm sure many folks are surprised that, in spite of his wealth and the blogosphere's obsession with the Occupy Wall Street movement, many folks of my description (lower economic class, college educated, anti-establishment hipsters) are sad (heartbroken, maybe) at Steve Jobs' death.

Why are we so sad? Because, despite what the Corporate Media wants you to believe, we don't hate wealth. No one of sound mind hates wealth. Occupy Wall Street and the discontent nation (really, world) wide has nothing to do with the fact that people are jealous of someone else's wealth. Particularly not Steve Jobs, a man who made his wealth on his ideas. Sure, he was a business man. And sure, he probably conducted some shady, tough dealings. But the guy's decisions, ideas and personal investment changed the world. No one has a problem with that.

When people say, "I wish I was a billionaire," what do you think they mean by that? Do you think they mean, "I want to take over a company, cut costs and staffing and pocket the rest!"?

No. They think "I want to be a billionaire because my ideas change the world." Really, at that point, the money is incidental. As it should be. A co-worker of mine had a great term -- "the parasite class." He used it to define the wealthy who "fly under the radar." Who, by design, you'll never know. Those gutless men who only know how to pinch pennies. The folks who never make eye contact, let alone say a word to their employees and who contribute to our nation's unemployment by viewing those employees as costs, not people. And they're who're destroying America.

That's who they are -- the parasite class.

And that brings me back to Jobs. Fascinating stories about him abound. At heart, yes, he was a business man. He wasn't super honorable. But read those stories and tell me he didn't care. Tell me that when he said an idea was "a dumb idea," that that comment came from anyplace less honorable than the truth.

This is what the conflict's about. The outrage in this country isn't bred out of jealousy for rich people. It's bred out of anger that the people who contribute the least can get the most. And it's also anger at the next generation of leadership that refuses to stand up to them.

But this is the moment to take our country back. I don't have a lot of power on this Island Earth, but we all know someone who does. So if you're in even a remote position of authority, I encourage you now -- heck, I'm begging you now -- don't spend the next few weeks, months or years saying "oh, the world's suffered a huge loss without Steve Jobs."

Instead, ask yourselves what you can do to carry on what the man stood for. Ask yourself how you can be leaders of the working class, not the parasite class. Treat your employees right. Don't put your head down in the face of an economy that is quickly proving to be the greatest challenge of our time, but stand up, be bold and lead. Every day. We need you to lead. Because really, success isn't measured by numbers on a ledger, it's measured by what you leave behind.

And we need to leave behind a world that works.

The Wall

2011-10-02T19:29:00.000-07:00

I've spent the past few days checking out Occupy Wall Street here in New York City. If you have a chance, go check it out for yourself. I'd say the newsmedia has misrepresented it, but they'd have to actually cover it (beyond a few stupid protesters breaking the law after a few stupid Cops goaded them into it)

What you'll see down there, first of all, is an impressively organized campsite. They keep it clean, they're very welcoming, and there is a very constructive sense of outrage. It is, in effect, a primal scream of a country that's fed up with how marginalized 99 percent of us have become.

But the problem is they don't have a specific set of demands or objectives for their protest. (They would be wise to check out Nicholas Kristoff's Op-Ed for a list)

The lack of a specific goal has made me hesitant to sign on to the protest, full throttle. I admire the folks down there -- they're approaching this peacefully and they clearly have the will, they just need a way. During their nightly General Assembly (where they recap events, introduce committees, etc.) there are many different concerns at hand -- the LGBT movement, the Labor Movement, Race Relations, Womens' rights -- I don't disagree with any of those movements concerns, and the leadership of this rally seems to really want to have those demands be heard. It's admirable. But I urge the leadership to remember one important thing:

Unless they find a clear message, they will lose and this protest will go away. And also, you're in Wall Street for a reason -- you're mad about the money.

And you should be. We all should be. Sometime during the last 15-20 years, America became a Corporate Welfare State (Most right-thinking people blame the demise of the The Glass-Steagall Act) And that's permeated the culture. The same folks who are probably looking down on this protest and scoffing that these folks should "get a job" are also the first to turn to the government and demand a handout when they mismanage money.

And until we as a country stand up to these people, it's just going to keep happening. Auto Union workers will get their hours cut while the executives get bonuses. Administrative assistants will lose their jobs while the folks in charge continue to pile on thousand dollar perks to their six-figure employees. Hard working employees will see paycuts while their companies post record profits -- all because someone in an office in midtown who's never met these people has an excel sheet with "margins that have to be hit."

Oh, and if you want to criticize the above examples for being vague, they're all real stories I've heard from friends and loved ones recently, but they didn't give me permission to talk about them, so I decided to give 'em a little bit of privacy. However, if you want a nice example of a big company fucking you over, Bank of America is going to charge you a fee for using your Debit Card. That's right, they're going to charge customers for spending money.

So no, what's happening down at Wall Street isn't, as our Mayor said, “protesters...protesting against people who make $40 or $50,000 a year and are struggling to make ends meet,” (although, wow, 40-50 thousand a year sounds lovely). And in fact, I spoke to a woman today who works on Wall Street and commented on how polite and fun the group has been to her at her lunch hour.

But it does need to focus -- it does need to say, explicitly, that we can't continue to solely look out for people who do not look out for the rest of us. Our country can't survive that way. If it doesn't focus, eventually, they will have to pack their camp up and go home.

That said, if they do go home, the primal scream you're seeing in Manhattan won't go away. It may even get worse. Anger doesn't die -- and in this moment, I urge this movement to use that anger the right way.

I GIVE UP!

2011-08-22T20:32:00.000-07:00

(TRANSCRIPT OF TOM BRENNAN'S CONCESSION SPEECH AT THE ISIAH THOMAS CIVIC CENTER IN SCHENECTANY, NY)

...seriously? Fine. I'll talk to them.

My fellow Americans, good evening. A few moments ago I called my opponent to concede the presidential race. I say "my opponent" rather than name them because you know what's the point? What's the point of naming them? A plurality of you voted for them, in spite of weeks of polling that had us in a dead heat. Well, what are you gonna do?

But make no mistake, my fellow Americans, today may be a victory for my opponent, but it is not a loss for me but rather for you. You lost today, and you lost huge. You lost for your future. You lost for your present. You even lost for your past, I guess. Whatever. The point is, you're the ones who have saddled this shit-stain you dare to call a country with the kind of vapid, brain dead leadership it deserves.

Before I walked out here, my staff encouraged me to congratulate you on a campaign hard fought. So as always (and unlike my opponent), I will not lie to you -- clearly you didn't work hard enough. They also asked me to talk about my regrets and what I'll miss most about the campaign trail. Yes, how will I wake up tomorrow knowing I won't be going to another pancake breakfast in a deteriorating midwestern rec hall with a group of seniors who look like Dick Tracy villains?

Now I can spend more time with my family, who, I assure you, are thrilled to know that two years of my private life being paraded on the national stage, ads questioning my patriotism and a parade of former co-workers, ex-lovers and folks I owe money to popping up on screen every two days, has landed me back on the couch watching TBS's all day marathon of City Slickers 2: The Legend of Curley's Gold.

But hey, you had to vote for someone else. That's fine. My time's just about done here -- what? I have another five minutes? Great. For the next five minutes, I will list some of my favorite nicknames I used for your home states, moments after my campaign skipped town.

Shittsylvania
Delewhogivesashit?
Look at what a Genius I am cuz I read a book once! (that's New York)
Kansassholes
Califuckyourself
Arkansassholes
New Jersey

...excuse me?

Okay, my security team wants me to call it a night. Thanks, again, for not voting me into the job of cleaning up your dumb ass decisions. I'll see you all in hell, and may God bless America.

(HERE, THERE WAS A BRIEF PAUSE AS MR. BRENNAN ARGUED WITH HIS SECURITY TEAM, BEFORE TURNING BACK TO THE PODIUM)

Why don't you people like me?

(MR. BRENNAN WAS PROMPTLY TASED BY HIS SECURITY TEAM AND DRAGGED OFF STAGE)

Sleepaway Camp V

2011-08-21T20:26:00.000-07:00

When I was a child, the world seemed a lot bigger. Mainly because I was very short. In the summer time, I went to summer day camp. A day camp in the city is a bizarre experience, because you're basically in some abandoned high school doing arts and crafts or listening to music for six hours, with a pool and playground sprinkled in there. One summer, my parents sent my sister to sleepaway camp for four weeks.

Four Weeks! That's a month! That's FOREVER as a kid! I remember when she left, I cried, which was odd because at the time, my sister piling into a van with some strange man and then disappearing for 4 months was what I wished for every night. But, y'know, life. Changes. All of that crap.

Anyway, she came back alive and the next summer, they sent me with her. I was a pretty smart kid -- I think. Growing up in New York with an intellectual mom and self-made dad gave me a unique perspective. For my wild imagination, I was pretty realistic. Put together the Easter Bunny and Tooth Fairy fairly early (thought I put on the act for my parents.) The only imaginary things I still believed in around 1994-1995 were Santa Claus and love (Ba-ZING!).

But when you take anyone out of their natural environment, their minds will play tricks on them. I remember one time, a kid from camp said he was afraid of Jason Voorhees. I'd never really thought much about Jason Voorhees or any other movie monster, mainly because those movies were set out in the 'burbs and the country. Imagine, for a moment, that Jason Voorhees did exist. Why would he come to New York, a city of 8 Million, get to my parents' apartment building, kill the concierge, climb 18 floors, knock down a metal door, and murder my family just to kill me? Seems like a waste of time. Particularly given I was an eleven year old boy who hadn't done anything to anyone.

But then, one night, I was at my grandparents house and watching TV on their back porch. It's late at night (probably 9:30), dark and crickets are chirping. And i keep hearing a rustling in the leaves. And i ran like hell. Cuz I realized I was in the countryside. Anyone could just reach into his ground level suburban home and grab me, or murder me, or worse!

(Interesting side note: my freshman year of college at Drexel in Philadelphia, I recall the other students being HORRIFIED of the loud police sirens at night. And I slept soundly.)

So there I am, plopped down in the middle of Camp Fuller in Wakefield, Rhode Island, in the woods. Worse, we didn't have cabins -- we had shacks with no windows or doors, just canvas flaps we had to roll down at night time. So I struggled to sleep with every cricket chirping, leaf rustling and raccoon scampering about outside.

Every camp has scary stories. Camp Fuller had three -- the Walker (some Ukrainian ex-counselor who killed kids and still stalked the grounds), Greenie (a camper who had been set on fire or something, and now lived in the woods, covered in moss and mold) and the 9 Indian Braves (a legend of Indian Braves killed out by the lake who would appear when it rained or something)

Do the math, that's 11 individual monster-ghosts haunting the woods. ELEVEN! Why stop at eleven? Who else ya got in the woods? Hitler? The Detroit Pistons? My former Chemistry Teacher, Mrs. Yang?! Rick Astley?! (actually, I'd have loved that.)

So with the Legion of Doom wandering the woods, I could barely sleep. Cuz think about it -- y'know why I didn't buy monsters like Jason Voorhees? Cuz I grew up in New York and I saw almost every type of freak -- but I never saw a monster in a hockey mask. But a violent Ukrainian? That wasn't just a menace in the woods, that was my parents' superintendent. And now he's lurking about the woods, ready to kill me just because I wanted to spend the summer learning how to sail.

So to the kids coming home from summer camp this summer, congrats on getting out alive. I hope you weren't tormented by Ukrainians or erections like I was those four weeks in Rhode Island. And remember that, like me, you're only a few short summers away from being able to spend it doing something really terrifying: working in the dementia ward of a nursing home.

BED WETTER!

2011-08-18T20:19:00.000-07:00

Last night I had coffee and a bite to eat with an old high school friend. Weird thing about this meeting is this woman and I weren't particularly close friends in high school, but I always liked her as she was one of the few people I remember being friendly and positive. I just got invited to my high school reunion -- on the invite they have our class pictures from our Junior Year of High School. Every guy on my class is just glaring at the camera, myself included. We all look like we're about to enter lock up. Why were we so angry? Seriously, I wanna go back in time and just scream, "SMILE. YOU DON'T HAVE TO PAY RENT YET." Someone work on the Delorean.

So anyway, in winter of '98 (or was it '99?) this girl (she's a woman now but in high school, she was a girl. So there. PC snobs) was my Chemistry tutor. I was doing a terrible job in chemistry (it was math AND science) and was already on academic probation for failing Biology the previous year (the A+ in summer school apparently counted for nothing) If I failed again, I'd be expelled. This is around when my lifetime love affair with anxiety really kicked into high-gear.

So this girl was helping me stay alive in chemistry, and the big mid-term exam was coming up. It was winter break and she was going to come over to my family's apartment to help me study. I remember being notably anxious about her coming by because, while I wasn't romantically interested (can you be romantically interested in someone at 15), this still constituted the first time a girl would come over in my teenage years. I wanted to come off well.

Remember how I mentioned having anxiety problems? I used to wet my bed up to about my junior year of high school. I'm not sure why; I mean, the easy answer is "anxiety." Some unfair pressures get put on high school kids, and I really wonder about that, particularly in today's America. You spend 4 years having pressure heaped on you from all corners, reminding you that you NEED to make it to a good school if you're going to have a chance of making it in your career of choice -- and now we live in an America where careers are in short order. Of what value is education if you're too anxious to enjoy the learning process? I never realized until I took classes as an adult just how much I love learning. In many ways I feel robbed by the pressure. A worthy philosophic debate? Or simply a man trying to justify the fact that he wet the bed until he was sixteen? I'll let historians decide.

(Fun fact: Famous bed-wetters-who-should-have-outgrown-it-sooner include Chris Rock, Sarah Silverman and Moe Howard in his later days)

Well this is a round about way of saying that on the very same day that a girl would finally, even in a tutor capacity, come to my home (at 10 AM!) , I awoke to discover I'd wet the bed. It was pretty awful.

I remembered that story late last week and resolved to make sure I didn't bring it up when we met for coffee. And I didn't! But I thought it was a wonderful thing to share with an internet full of strangers. Go figure.

Well, I guess I should get going. Hmm...seems like a waste of time to just read a story about me wetting the bed, right? I should have a moral or something. I mean, presumably you're not just turning on your computer box to read trivial stories about some guy, right? C'mon, I can leave ya something, right? ...right?

OK, I'm gonna watch some TV and see if that helps. Imma be right back. Talk amongst yourselves.

Right, I got it! So last night, I had a lovely time with someone I wish I'd been a closer friend with in the ten years since high school (ten years?!). But maybe that's what life's about. Not everyone can stay. But that doesn't mean that those folks who only make guest appearances aren't of value -- sometimes it's the exact opposite. Quality time vs. quantity time and all that. Everyone plays a role, and it will all make sense in the end. I'm pretty confident of that.

Ah jeez, the episode of Mad About You where Paul Reiser and Helen Hunt almost split up is on. God this one gets me. I...just...alright, I'm outta here. Talk to you next week.

It's my Birthday

2011-08-02T20:56:00.000-07:00

I'm extremely fortunate. Why? Because I was raised in New York City.

As a man born and raised in New York City, it's funny to me that I always see people ragging on my hometown as unAmerican. 364 days a year, we get dumped on as not understanding America (yet on September 11th, it doesn't happen. How odd...)

I find that funny because there is no more American city than New York. A melting pot of different cultures, religions and beliefs? That's America. And that's New York.

Sorry, Twin Cities. Sorry, Houston. Sorry, Atlanta, Iowa and New Hampshire. No one doubts your patriotism. And you contribute so much to this country. But if you're looking for a town that captures the perpetual debate, diverstiy and initiative of this country, well, it's New York.

SO yeah, it's funny to me that I'm told we're not America because we're more American than any of you could ever hope to be. We just are. We embody this country. You're welcome.

August 3rd is my birthday. On August 2nd, I was taken out to birthday drinks by folks I volunteer with. We work at 826NYC, a nonprofit writing/tutoring center in New York. It's the New York branch of an initiative meant to help kids improve their writing and homework. It's not through a religious or political group. It's simply regular folks who want to do what they can to help kids communicate in an ever-competitive world. Awful nice, right?

Tonight, I was surrounded by my follow volunteers -- diverse in gender, race and religion. All of us sitting as equals.

Earlier today my company announced that a major character would be half-African American, half Hispanic. We got hit with a ton of complaint e-mails form people outraged that we made this decision.

As I sat with my friends -- my equals, people who simply wanted to celebrate my Birthday as friends -- I thought of those people who chose to complain about our decision. And I pity those people.

I pity them because they don't understand.

They don't understand just how wonderful it is to be surrounded by such diversity. They don't understand how lucky they can be to connect with so many different points of view. They'll never know how truly loved they can feel to look around a table and see so many different types of people appreciate them not for the color of their skin but content of their character.

They will never know that. They will always be somewhat alone in this world that demands that we stick together.

I am incredibly fortunate. I can greet news like "Spider-Man will now be an African/Hispanic-American" and say "HOW AWESOME IS THAT?!"

They'll never have that good fortune. I hope and pray they one day will. But until that day, I can at least know that my birthday was celebrated by true friends. People I know I love, admire and respect. And I can at least wake up every day in the most American city on the planet -- and hope that one day the rest of this country will be able to find what we have found.

We are America. And we are better for it. And I hope you join us one day in this beautiful tapestry.

Hell, even Spider-Man has.

I thought I was funny a year ago!

2011-05-23T21:10:00.000-07:00

About a year ago, I spent the commute to work writing jokes as I went along. Then I stopped, cuz my boss wanted me to show up earlier, which meant I had to leave during the rush, which meant I couldn't sit down and write.

::cough::

Here are some of my favorites that I found, re-reading my notebook:

1) Why do beer ads even bother having text on them? I live in New York and am currently on the subway in rush hour. It's 8 AM and I already don't need much more motivation to get drunk tonight.

2) SOmetimes I worry if I've become the crazy guy on the subway. Those days, I just smile and tell myself "BLARGHTheGovernmentRAAARRGGHHJewsGNAAARRRRRcorporations!"

3) I used to think a girl reading comics on the subway was sexy. Now I wonder who she's killed. Or how she got that killer bod after the sex change.

4) I'll tell you what I love about babies on the subway -- they are fully aware how much power their ability to cry has, and they're ready to destroy your day if they have to. They're like miniature martial artists -- perfecting their art that they need never use it. Also, like martial artists, they poop their pants and need mom to clean it up.

5) Old-timey news headlines were referred to as fat faces. Ironic as most of the newsboys selling them could barely afford to eat.

6) I'll tell you what the best part of 19th century typography was -- the pussy.

7) What's with this asshole -- amIright? (editor's note: this guy really was an asshole. For serious.)

8) Racism is so silly to me. How can you hate the Chinese just because they look different? You should hate them because they're out to destroy our economy, our way of life and kill our female babies.

9) The D train to work is like that girl with the nice face who gives good blowjobs. It's always there, it gets me where I need to go but I'm always disappointed when I get off.

9B): Alternate punchline to that joke: The D Train to work is like that girl with a nice face who gives good blow jobs -- always full of immigrants.

10) I'll tell you what I love about babies on the subway -- odds are, they're single

11) You know what the difference between Catholics and everyone else is? We're not going to Hell. You sinners.

12) I love how pissy people get when you read the newspaper over their shoulder on the subway. Why so private? It's the world's news, not the "You have bad credit and a UTI-Times Picayune"

13) The higher-ups are working from home today. If "working" you mean "Watching 'The View.'" And if by "from home" you mean, "from home."

14) I'm the kind of guy who likes to control his destiny. That's why I pee my pants 3 times a day.

15) My favorite insincere hello in the morning is from the old black security guard at the front desk of my building. Mainly because he doesn't have to be insincere, but he takes the time to do so.

A Letter to the Editor -- God!

2011-05-21T08:02:00.001-07:00

So today isn't judgment day, but I still can't help but wonder what I'd do if it was. So for you, Blogmerica, I present what I'd write to the people I love if this was, in fact, the end. Enjoy!

Dear PersonILove,

First of all, hello! I hope you're well. Sorry I haven't called enough lately, but between work deadlines, improv and New York in general, I've been busy. You know how it is.

Anyway, the seas are boiling and the skies have turned red, so I figure that this is probably it. As a plague of locusts consumed my roommates, I was reminded of a great song named "Telegram" by this band the Buried Beds, which has a wonderful refrain "Who's got the time to live their life before they die?"

It's a crazy process, isn't it? It's like a 90 car freight train moving at the speed of light -- it's so fast but there's so much. One year, you're in love. The next year, that person's a ghost to you. A place that defines your world today is some crappy apartment or office you barely remember tomorrow. One person's monster is another person's savior. People you never thought you'd even know become your best friends. The best friends you thought you'd have for life die. And no one ever thinks a day like this would come.

But then, every day is someone's judgment day, and they never thought it would come, either.

Thank you for being a part of my life. If I've learned anything on this time I've had, it's that we don't say thank you enough. I'm pretty fortunate, too, so I have to say it over and over again. I've had a family that's supported me, friends who are always there to take a call. Even the folks I'd dub "enemies" aren't really that. I've managed to be surrounded by some good people. It sure could have been worse.

Well, a sixty-foot man with wings of fire just landed over in the Gowanus. He's screaming something in Latin, so I better get going. But I hope there's another side to this whole thing, because I suspect we have a lot to talk about.

That's all for me. If we never see each other again, know that I love you. And you look great in that shirt.

Best,
Tom Brennan

Judgment Day -- I been judging for years.

2011-05-21T07:50:00.001-07:00

So it's looking increasingly unlikely that judgment day will occur today (although 6 PM is the cutoff, so I'm holding back judgment -- teehee!)

You probably noticed I stopped updating the blog here. There's a reason for that, outside of the fact that I like sleeping and exercising more than writing.

A few weeks back, back when I called these religious folks crazy, I found myself at the Atlantic Avenue stop in Brooklyn, passing through a group of the Judgment Day folks. They had just been harassed by some noble college students (no doubt some NYU pricks) and I stopped to read some of their literature. It's pretty insane. But I'm fascinated by this business. It doesn't seem like they're making any money out of it, these people really believe that today is it.

So I tried to engage them, but they wouldn't talk. I tried to politely explain myself, that I wasn't out to make fun of them, I was generally interested despite my nonbelief. They weren't rude, though -- they were frightened. They'd clearly been hassled all day, and yet they were still there. But they were frightened. They had this immense sadness in their eyes.'

Can you imagine how sad it must be to be one of those people? To be so convinced the world is going to end? And how sad it will be for them at midnight when they discover how meaningless it all was?

We don't need to insult these people. We shouldn't want to. The world is full of so much hate and cruelty. We don't need to add to it.

I hope those folks find some peace today.

18 Days to the Apocalypse -- I'm listening

2011-05-03T20:19:00.000-07:00

So according to the far right, we've only got 18 more days till the end! May 21st -- it's all over. I'm planning my next dental visit for May 22nd. Suckers.

OK, I'll level with you guys -- I didn't get a lot done today outside of work. But I got a ton of work done at my job, which means I will keep my job and continue living a healthy, productive life. One that can help people. SO by some love child of the transitive property and trickle down economics, technically I did all KINDS of good today. So, you're welcome.

Oy, look, maybe I didn't plan this thing through. I guess I could do one of those meta-posts about the journey-not-the-destination. But I won't do that. I'll find something I did today.

OK! I listened to people! Sounds lame? Well I don't care. I had lunch with a friend who is going through a bit of a rough patch in his relationship and took the subway with a co-worker who's concerned for a friend's relationship (or lack thereof).

Being heard is damn near impossible nowadays, and it's ultimately what we all need. It's tough to get, too. We're easily distracted, we're not always interested. It's hard to listen. And it's even harder when you know you're not being listened to.

There's nothing worse than talking to someone and recognizing in their eyes that they're just waiting for you to stop talking so they can start. Or worse, they won't even wait till they're turn. They'll just leap right out. And we're all guilty of it. I know I am.

It took me forever to realize that I didn't have to give advice -- that sometimes friends confide problems in you because they need to not be alone with their problems. And be honest -- have you ever taken advice when it comes to personal matters?

Think about some of the best advice you've ever gotten -- you probably realized it was true after you failed to take it. But that's OK. That's fine! My dad's a sailor and has a great saying -- "I know where every rock in Long Island Sound is...because I've hit them all twice."

We learn by doing -- the worst choice you make can sometimes be better than the best choice someone forces on you. It's yours. You own it. And listening is "doing" -- it's active. When you hear someone talk, everything can change because everything can be learned.

(Sidenote, in my 2nd grade class play, I played the Listening Ninja. My one line? 'I'm Listening!' I ended up quietly saving the day.)

I've tried to stop offering advice unless asked -- but it is a struggle. It's hard work to listen. We're all convinced of our own brilliance that we cannot wait to scream it to the hilltops.

We mean well; no one *wants* to be rude. But in spite of what we think, we *can* help ourselves. It takes work to listen, but you've got all the tools. You just have to practice. Go find someone. Talk to them. Listen to them.

It may not seem like much, but like I said before, existence a war won by increments. And someone who listens may help you make all the difference in the world.

And if you honestly don't have anyone who can listen, well, here, just talk to this guy. See what happens:

19 Days to the Apocalypse -- Who needs enemies?

2011-05-02T14:18:00.000-07:00

So I was going to write about this before yesterday’s big news, but history has happily allowed me to seem like I’m brilliant instead of just whiney and opinionated.

Last night, we found out that a monster was killed. And he had to be killed. That’s beyond dispute. The world’s safer without him. But I just can’t celebrate someone’s death. Anyone. It’s wrong. I’m not trying to rain on your parade, America. I’m not trying to guilt trip you for grabbing a flag and taking the streets with joy. I’m just saying I could not in a million years do that. I can’t celebrate anyone’s death.

And yet my Facebook feed reads like the Old Testament. Look, I won’t begrudge you all for how you feel. You’re angry and you’re right to be. And you’re going to demonstrate that anger how you will. No whiney blog is going to change that. But twice now, friends – smart friends, people who I respect – have told me today that it’s OK to party about this because “that’s what they did on 9/11.”

Explain to me how that makes sense? Explain to me why we’d want to act the way terrorists would?

(Side note: seems like terrorists are ALWAYS dancing and partying. Whenever I see those file videos on the news, they’re all bopping up and down with rocket launchers. Maybe if they weren’t so busy throwing a Pancake Jamboree every time they release a video blaming Jews for something, they could have done something of value with their lives.)

It’s good news that we brought him to justice. It’s good news that our President had the courage to execute a plan that likely could have failed. And I’m proud our President announced the news with dignity and strength, rather than some false cheerleading I suspect others would.

But death shouldn’t be celebrated. Lives should be celebrated. And there’s nothing to celebrate here. 9/11 took another life – an influential, intelligent life that could have been used for good but instead chose to be despicable evil. I just can’t feel good about that. I’m just relieved that it’s over.

With that in mind, on today, the 19th day we have left before the end of the world (according to religious fanatics – boy those guys suck!) I’m writing a note to someone I don’t particularly get along with.

I initially called him an “enemy” but I’m not a character in a James Bond movie – I don’t have enemies. Heck, I feel bad alluding to this in a piece where I talked about Osama bin Laden, cuz the person in question is a genuinely good guy. We just ended up on different sides of personal matters, matters in which I have not conducted myself well. So I’m going to write him and tell him I’m sorry for that.

Life’s too short to have enemies. It’s too short to honor death. It’s barely long enough to live.

Tom Brennan's Apocalyptic-Palooza!

2011-04-30T21:26:00.000-07:00

Look out, boys and girls, we got 20 days to save the world!

This, according to the fine folks at Familyradio.com (don't check them out, they're evil!). On a bus ride back to the city from Ithaca, NY, I saw a billboard telling me that Judgment day will be on May 21st of this year. I've seen this repeated a few places (mainly from crazy people on the subway).

I don't know much about the Family Radio people or the biblical math that says the world is ending on May 21st. But I know a link on their website will tell me how Gay Pride is another sign of the end of the world. So I can only assume I can help avoid this judgment day by apologizing for kissing other boys and stop being friends with Jews.

But what if the world really was going to end in 20 days? What would you do?

For the next 20 days, I'm going to do the right thing. I'm going to live every day as if it were the last and spend that time doing at least one good deed a day.

Because even though they're likely wrong, these crazies can't be ignored. Bullies never can be. The problem is that the best way to confront and beat a bully is incremental -- it's through setting an example. That's why people always assume bullies win -- positive progress takes time and isn't easily quantifiable.

I'm upset, Blogmerica, by the way religious faith is so easily and often exploited in this country. I'm upset when bullies like these FamilyRadio scumbags pray on Christianity and Christians with these extreme notions. I consider myself a Christian. I'm not, however, comfortable demonstrating my faith through prayer. I spend my Sundays volunteering. I don't mean that to chide those who pray and who attend service -- we all should practice our faith as we're comfortable. But what we should never do -- and no right thinking person *would* ever do -- is advertise an extreme notion meant to shame or frighten people into obediance.

And that's what these people are trying to do. They don't want to make something positive; they want to frighten people with the negatives. They want to use hate and fear to divide us. And if I can do anything to oppose it, even if it's simply for my own piece of mind, I'll do it.

So for the next 20 days, I'll be striving to do right, and chronicling it here. Once a day, I'll attempt to settle something for the better and let you know how it went.

I encourage you to do the same, and I'm serious about this. We have 20 days to show these people the power of the positive. To stand up to bullies by demonstrating what's is right and good about our society. Once a day, do something positive. It doesn't have to be over complicated -- it could be as simple as writing a thank you letter you've meant to do, or setting an appointment that's long overdue.

Spread the word -- the world we live in is frightening enough without maniacs trying to ram end of the world delusions down our throats. But we shouldn't simply ignore them -- we should act against them. And the best way to act against those who are purely *against* everything is to stand for something. For the right thing.

Because yeah, what if this *was* it? All we'd have left would be time, mere days. But one day isn't nothing -- one day is everything. The world changes every day. We can change it every day -- we *do* change it everyday. For the next 20 days, let's make an effort to reject fear and to step up to do those things we've meant to do. Those *right* things. Check in here as I'll let you know what I'm doing.

Today is Sunday, May 1st, 2011. Today I'm going to volunteer at a kids' writing center for 3 hours. Why? Because that's what I do every Sunday. That's what I'll be doing when I wake up on Sunday, May 22nd, to find that those bullies have been proven wrong. So why wouldn't I be there today? Let's save the world, and not because it's in danger of ending but because it has the promise of living

P.S.:

"Hey, Tom, isn't it a bit exploitative and self serving to blog about what you're doing?"

Yes. Yes it is. You let me worry about that.

Laugh Track

2010-10-07T13:47:00.000-07:00

Now, we had one TV in our apartment when I was a kid, and it was in my parents’ bedroom. Like most kids of my generation, my sister and I were very excited by watching TV. In retrospect, I don’t think we were as excited about the shows as we were that it often afforded us a chance to spend time with our parents. I remember often being sent to bed despite our protests – we really wanted to watch 20/20 or L.A. Law. Like kids do. You know.

Anyway, I remember one night, when my sister was probably 8 and I was probably 6, we were sent to bed around 9 – we were making too much of a ruckus during Murphy Brown. We were, of course, upset because this meant we couldn’t watch CBS’s Monday night block – Murphy Brown and Designing Women. Again, why did two children WANT to watch these shows? No clue (although they were very good shows. And might explain a lot about me, now that I think about it.)

Probably, the bigger thing was that every once and a while, our parents let us watch those shows. And then we were up passed 9 PM. Ah, the seductive allure of past 9 PM…an impossible hour. Oddly enough, I go to bed mostly around 1, 1:30 these days. So I don’t think MAKING me go to bed early made a big difference on the adult I became.

So anyway, yeah, Mom and Dad sent us to bed and shut their door. That was all the proof we needed that our objections would not be heard. My sister and I shared a bedroom for the first 7-8 years of my life, which I’d say explains a whole lot else about me. Well, that and the fact that I pretty much use the same bed now that I used then (they bought ‘em bigger so they didn’t have to buy new ones. My parents are evil geniuses.)

The room was dark. We were ready for bed. But we wanted TV. And then we heard it…

…the audio was coming through the cracks under the doors. We could hear this perfectly. Sure, we couldn’t see it, but, y’know, it was kinda like Radio! Radio, which was already well outdated form of entertainment by the time we were kids!

We excitedly listened to each joke timed right to a laugh track and laughed, in spite of not really knowing what they were talking about. (Seriously, Murphy Brown was a hella-intelligent show. Way over our heads.) when my sister’s eyes perked up.

“Look!” she exclaimed in a whisper.

Our apartment building was one of four buildings in a complex on the Upper West Side of Manhattan named Park West Village. They were originally conceived as project housing, but then were bought by private developers. So we loomed large over the walk-ups on Manhattan Avenue and could see right into the other buildings. On the 18th floor, we had a pretty good view. Across the way, in the living room of the adjacent apartment building, was a man, sitting alone on his couch, watching the exact same show. No longer would we have to make up pratfalls in our minds! No longer would we have to envision “Phil's” or the newsroom or Murphy’s latest cartoonish secretary. It was all right there! We watched for a few minutes, squinting a bit to get a good view of the show, when the gentleman stood up and glanced out the window.

And then he spotted us.

You’d think we shot this guy’s dog. He flipped out – I mean, FLIPPED. Screaming, gesturing wildly – he looked like a silent film villain. All he needed was a bowler hat and moustache.

So he grabs the chord for the blind, pulls on it – and the set of blinds fell down. Clonked him on the head. He flailed wildly, with genuine anger about how embarrassed he was. Caroline and I laughed our asses off. He went to pull the curtains closed.

Nothin’ doin’, the Curtains wouldn’t budge. He finally storms over to the set and shuts it down. He glares at us and walks out of the room. It was the best joke of the night.

Then my dad popped in and told us to be quiet and go to bed.

We didn’t. We laughed for a good 40 minutes.

The George Washington Bridge

2010-10-03T19:09:00.000-07:00

It's old news that last week, a young man named Tyler Clementi killed himself after being outted as gay by bullies at his college. I don't know much more about the story. I've been in a bit of a bubble for the past few weeks. I'm only now getting up to speed with the news of Tyler's death, along with the deaths of Seth Walsh, Asher Brown and Billy Lucas. All four killed themselves in the past month in response to bullying over their sexuality. Mr. Walsh and Mr. Brown were thirteen years of age.

Two thirteen year old boys killed themselves.

I'm not so jaded an adult that I don't find that shocking. But we live in a country that, institutionally, tells these children and an entire gay community that they're wrong for how they love, so what can you expect?

If you don't think that's true, then I point you to two simple questions:

(1) why can't gays serve openly in the armed services?

(2) why can't gays marry in America?

Answer those with anything that makes sense and I'll shut up right now. But trust me, if you stop and think about it, you'll realize it's impossible to d that. These are just two American laws that are mean tot appease bullies.

A few nights ago, a friend of I and I tried to explain "Don't Ask Don't Tell" to a friend of ours from England, and it didn't occur to me until that moment just how stupid a rule it is. I never supported it, but I've lived a life in America where it was common sense. "Gays shouldn't serve in the military" very naturally changes to "Gays should be able to serve in the military, they just should keep it quiet" for some inane reason made sense to me. Until I tried to explain it to someone else.

And yet, to an overwhelming number of people in this country, it still makes sense. And I won't try and demean people who disagree with me by writing them off as idiots or bigots. Firstly, that's the same sort of anger that guides a bully. Secondly, I know some of these people and I know they're not bigots. They just don't get it. And they probably never will.

A few weeks back, I made a joke about DADT on my Facebook Status (SHOCK! HORROR!) which ended up kicking off a whole debate. An old friend of mine who's married to a veteran defended the rule eloquently. She also gave me some more insight on the rule, and made a point I very much agreed with, that it is shameful that we live in a culture that's obsessed with private sex lives. But within that argument lies the basic disconnect between one side of this country and another. Being gay isn't a matter of sex, it's a matter of love. As much as DADT "protects" privacy, an officer won't have his career ended if he talks about a lovely dinner with his wife with his fellow soldiers. He will if you replace that word "wife" with "boyfriend." How can a government make decisions like that based on who you love?

Very easily, actually. We live in a country where whether or not homosexuals can marry is still a matter of debate. Our president, clearly an intelligent man, believes that civil unions are good enough. But it's not, because it still looks a relationship in the eye and says, "you are different. You are not as legitimate in your feelings as these two people. And that's wrong."

My God, I could walk to the corner right now, see a girl making a call outside of the shitty pub on the corner, ask her to marry me. And if she said yes, we could have it done, lickity split. Yet if I meet a man and fall in love, we'll just have to deal with the fact that our love isn't as valid because we both have the same genitalia.

We should be better than this. I don't mean people -- people are unpredictable, people are moody and, American people in particular, are really indecisive and angry. I don't expect them to accept differences over night.

And I can take a person who doesn't understand gay culture. I can take so-called comedians and pundits who trash a lifestyle. That's freedom of speech. I get it. I can take that condescending opinion that says "look, everyone has a right to love the way they do but why do they have to be so public about it?" Feelings are scary and none of us are above cowardice.

I can even take my parents being disappointed that they have a bisexual son. A few weeks back I finally sat them down and told them about myself. And I don't doubt that they love me, I don't doubt that they support me, but I also know what I saw in their eyes when I told them. But that's OK. That's human nature. You can't help how you feel.

I can take that.

What I can't take is an entire country that sees bullying push a child over the edge and then asks "how can this happen?" while ignoring the fact that, from birth, that kid has lived in a country that tells him he's wrong for how he loves. He may not be a bad person, but he still has feelings that are different and incorrect -- feelings that will limit his future. How can that be seen to a child as anything but at least a tacit endorsement of the same bullying he faced every day at school?

Four boys just killed themselves because of who they were.

I need more enemies

2010-08-21T09:19:00.000-07:00

Over at my cousin Bridget's awesome blog, she wrote a letter to a hypothetical internet-hater of her blog. It was a very funny post that, to a man who's profession lives and dies by message boards, struck a chord. Go on, read it. I'll still be here when you get back.

::crickets::

So that got me thinking about my life and what's missing:

"A girlfriend?" No, mom, not that.

"I'll tell you what you need, you need to OWN an apartment--" no, dad, that's not it. And in this economy, I...forget it.

No, I'm missing enemies. I feel like an enemy would really motivate me, and it's been a long time since I've had one.

My last enemy had such potential. I went to college with this guy and he was in LOVE with my then-girlfriend. He had in fact friended her first. But I wormed my way into heart more directly. And, end result, I won. But even before I let on that I liked this girl, this dude hated me. HATED me. Insulted me to my face, requested that she not invite me to ANYTHING going on on campus, shit-talked me behind my back. This guy had it all. I was thrilled. And then, when I finally got the girl, he pulled one of the most unexpected revenge plans of all time.

He...got over it, met another girl and moved on with his life. I think they're engaged or married now or something. Meanwhile, I'm eating cookies and blogging inside on a beautiful day. Who won, again?

And that's the whole problem. As an adult, your enemies tend to be people who you've hurt (or who have hurt you) who are trying to get on with their lives. And you don't show up at the party, the record doesn't scratch, and y'all don't have a tense stand off full of pithy one-liners. You just pass each other at the party and either give that really nervous, loaded-with-emotion head-nod or don't even acknowledge each other.

The stakes are more real now. That's definitely part of it. Enemies were fun when you were a kid. At the time it didn't seem fun, but when you look back on it, there was all that anxiety of heading to the playground or cafeteria and seeing that jerk. (S)he was unpredictable -- would they throw a crumpled up piece of paper at you while you ate? Was said piece of paper really a note reading "You suck!" Did you, indeed, suck, thus confirming the note's accusation?

Would they clock you in the head with a combination lock? (That happened once! Two girls got into it in the locker room in high school. One ended up with a concussion. I think it was over who loved the Backstreet Boys more.)

It was a gamble, and while maturity has certainly helped lead more comfortable, normal lives, I can't help but feel I've lost some of my crazy brave without childish motivations. I'm not saying all of my life's many (MANY) problems would be solved by meeting some fiend named Trent Blackheart (who'd definitely have blonde hair, a tan and wear Hawaiian shirts -- I *hate* that guy) -- but maybe the motivation of childish thoughts and dreams makes them worth holding onto.

Me, I've got one left. And I'm planning to let it open the door. What's the dream? Can't tell you. But it involves giant robots.

Mosques. They're pretty.

2010-08-19T18:27:00.000-07:00

Apparently Governor Paterson thinks they should move the Islamic Center at Ground Zero. I'm glad he came out and said that, because I think it should stay right where it is and anything Paterson supports turns to shit, so I feel like this is a good sign for our side.

I've tried to avoid getting into any conversations about the planned Islamic Center near Ground Zero because there's nothing worse than reading some city boy's regurgitated opinion on a blog. But an incredible number of people in my life are obsessed with this issue -- on both sides -- and I feel compelled to address a few things. Cuz I signed up for this blog for a reason, by dammit!

First off, the people opposed to this Islamic Center aren't all racists. I'm sure 100 percent of racists out there are opposed to it, but I can't get behind the notion that anyone who thinks it should be moved is motivated from a place of racial hatred.

I can't because I know some exceptionally good people who oppose the center -- people who have dedicated their lives towards protecting all New Yorkers (and even all Americans) -- and people who you could not convince me on their worst day are racists. They are good people with different opinions, opinions that come from a place of very real, and even 9 years on, very recent, pain.

Secondly, when I first heard about the plans to build this center near Ground Zero, I'll admit, I cringed. I thought it would shine an unflattering light on Islamic culture and kick off a ton of angry, and unfair protests (thanks for not letting me down, human race!) -- in short, I thought it would bring unnecessary trouble to the American Muslim community (hey, John McCain thought that, too!)

But that's a cowardly position.

It's cowardly to hide from the truth. I don't say that to be judgmental -- it's human nature. I know I'm as guilty of it as anyone. But I guess I'm at a point where I can't hide anymore. I can't be diplomatic anymore. Maybe I'm off message and off track with the commentary here, and I might end up cutting this from the final post cuz I'm really just off on a tangent, but I can't hide anymore because it's recently become apparent to me that no matter how long I live, I don't have an incredible amount of time. And I'm tired of not just saying what I think. So who cares if I'm another snot-nosed blogger? This is my place to say what I want. Everyone should have one. That's what this country's about, right?

And truth is, there's nothing wrong with the proposed Islamic center, nor where it's being built.

That's all that should be said on the matter. Unfortunately, terrible people are keeping the issue alive by using it to score political points (and yes, terrible applies equally to the Harry Reids and David Patersons as it does the Sarah Palins and Newt Gingriches. Is Gingriches plural? Gingrii?)

If you honestly consider the location of this center an insult, well, I'm sorry you feel that way. As I said before, I don't think less of you. I don't think you're a hateful person. Hateful commit acts of violence. Hateful people take lives. Hateful people knock down buildings. They don't conduct peaceful protests as the majority of those opposed to the center have done.

But I do think that a great number of people are being blinded by pain. Like I said, even I flinched at first glance of this idea. I appreciate what you're feeling. Maybe you're not ready to accept this kind of move. That's fine.

But stop for a second and think about this: Timothy McVeigh was raised Catholic. Would you protest a Catholic Church being built near the site of the Oklahoma City Bombing? Towards the end of his life, he claimed he wasn't religious, but rather believed in "science." Would you object to a science center being opened near that site? Probably not.

No, McVeigh didn't invoke either belief set in his attack. But whatever insane voice was in the heads of the 9/11 hijackers is inconsequential because America wasn't attacked by Islam on 9/11; it was attacked by hate. To those of you who oppose the center, I implore you not to give into that hate. Protest it, boycott it, whatever, but when it's built -- and it probably will be built on that site --let it go.

And if you can't see past that, well, I'm incredibly sorry you're so upset about this. But that's all you're going to get.

I Wanna Live Until I Die

2010-03-02T22:59:00.000-08:00

First of all, I want to apologize to my cousin Amy who gets this in her RSS Feed. Amy, this post gets a little foul mouthed. Hang in there and don't tell my parents.

This year's gonna be different. You'll see. Last year? I wrote a really emo letter to a bunch of people. The year before? A slightly more focused letter. The year before that? Easily the best letter. And I'm tired of writing that damn letter. But for the uninitiated -- 4 years ago, my best friend, Michael DiRoma, died in a car accident. We'd known each other since I was one and he was just a few months older than zero. And what reads as four years on a calendar has felt like a blur.

This past Christmas, we gathered -- as is tradition -- at my Uncle's residence in Philadelphia. The conversation naturally turned to my grandparents. And somehow the new tradition is to only talk about their deaths and funerals. No matter the topic, somehow we managed to easily transition back into them being dead. Now, if you look at photos of them in their younger days, you'd think my grandparents were the biggest squares in town in the 50s. But you know what? One time they were in Wildwood, NJ, and saw some punk hippie getting beat down by a cop. And my grandfather got between them (between a *cop* with a *gun*) and broke up the fight.

This was around the same time that my grandfather was a paint salesman, and shocked his clients in New York when he accepted an invitation from their black stock boy to have dinner at his parents house.

This was also around the time that my grandmother and her friends "surprised" my grandfather and his friends at a dance hall based bachelor party by swapping places with the showgirls.

Years later, when a black family moved into their predominantly white suburban enclave and the neighbors were in an uproar, my grandmother was the first neighbor to knock on their door with a home cooked meal to welcome them.

There are hundreds of stories like this. And all we can talk about is the fact that they're dead?!

Well I'm done with it. Carlin said it best -- " if someone did somehow survive death in a non-physical form, I'd personally think he'd be far too busy with other celestial activities than to be standing around paradise smiling down on live people!"

I sure as shit wouldn't be smiling down if everyone was talking about the day I died and how I looked in a casket. I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure the day I die is the day I'm going to want to hear about the least. Maybe that day I got the runs in the middle of a bus tour in Spain. That was pretty awful.

But I sincerely hope I can be a ghost, so that when I'm dead and my family gathers at Christmas at my Uncle's house (that man's clergyman, he's not dying till he's 200) and talks about the day I died and what color blazer I wore in my casket, I can pop out and say "Boo! Now either talk about the time I almost got into a fist fight with a sitting Senator's aide or the time I went skydiving, or shut your fucking mouth and eat your steak, you selfish assholes!"

Selfish -- that's the word. That's how we all act when someone dies. Don't get me wrong, it's cool to be selfish. It's jarring and you need to do what it takes to be okay. I get it. It's fine. But it's always under the pretense of selflessness, and that needs to stop. I refer, of course, to seven words that drive me up the wall:

"He would have wanted it this way."

Every time Michael's name comes up, someone tells me what my best friend would have wanted. And they're often pretty wrong. I knew the guy better than many, and I wouldn't remotely presume to know what he would have wanted. If I had to guess, I'd say a better set of breaks and a blow job from Maura Tierney.

I don't want to waste your time with some emo, mopey diatribe about how I "found inner strength I never knew" and "I'm back," mainly because I don't think it's true. But also because I don't have it in me to go down that road. I want to talk about life, not death.

Sadly, I don't have a ton of wacky stories about my friendship with Michael. Ours was less a friendship of wacky hi jinks and adventures and more a friendship of late night walks and philisophical arguments. I don't have anything in terms of major moments that really defines our friendship. I have, instead, is a general mood, a few landmarks and memories of a neighborhood that seems to change in appearaqnce by the hour. Our old diner's gone, our old pizza place is a bit too pricey, our old movie theater is just a marquis and wreckage, and I don't even live there anymore. It's hard, really, because our friendship was very one-on-one. I don't have a ton of people I can share memories with. Somedays it feels like I'm remembering snippets from someone else's life.

But I can tell you what I have learned out of all this: this shit is hard. Life, living, it's incredibly difficult business. For four years, it's been a battle to get out of bed in the morning. It's been full of forced smiles, each one leaving me to wonder if I'm giving up or fighting back (I prefer to think the latter)

If this seems scattered, it's because it *is* scattered. Believe me, I'm not looking for a pity party here. I just have something to say about all this, though I'm not certain what that is yet. Maybe I'll never be certain. All I know is there isn't a day in my life that I don't spend a bunch of time dwelling on the fact that my best friend died in the middle of the night on some stretch of highway in upstate New York. And it's made me a bit more observant of the world around me, a world I feel is filled with lonely people trying to connect. And maybe sometimes the shared experience of sorrow is all we feel we have to grab onto. But that doesn't have to be the case.

I want to live. That's the what I'm getting at here. And I'm sure you do, too. We're not that different. We wake up every day and just keep doing what we always do...scraping by on shitty means, keeping our heads up even if our hearts are down. It's hard, and we do our best to hide the loneliness by sticking together. Sometimes just getting through a day feels the most heroic thing you can do. But you've got to live. Or at least you have to want to, because I firmly believe that each step you take, every little bit of effort you make can bring you back to life. Fuck Yoda and his whole "do or do not, there is no try" -- effort counts for something. Trying in spite of yourself is all the proof you need to know you want something. And I want to live.

Do you hear me?

He Said It Best.

2010-03-02T22:17:00.000-08:00

The Top Twenty of the Tom Brennan Decade!

2010-01-26T22:38:00.000-08:00

Back at the year's end, I did a top ten list of quotes from the decade. I've opted to re-post 'em here and include the ten losers (IE: the Top Twenty) Enjoy!

#20: "Welcome to Western Film. Professor Jones is out today. For those of you who don't know my name, well...it doesn't matter. Let's talk about today's film." ~ Ian Abrams, March 2005

#19: "Nothing makes a holiday quite like the wailing of regrets." ~ Caroline Brennan, January, 2006

#18: "Wait a second -- I'm the black girl, she's the lesbian and you're the sarcastic nerd nobody likes. And we're out in the woods. We're so getting killed first." ~Ty Storey, July 2000

#17: "Existence is overrated." ~ David Casey, October, 2002

#16: "Tom, when you get to be my age, you realize you're willing to sacrifice silly little things like principles to, y'know, feed your family." ~ Robert Pomer, February, 2001

#15: "I wish I could split in half. Then I could solve this." "But then you'd only have half a body." "Tom, I'd regenerate. Like starfish. Duh." ~Marjorie Becker & Tom Brennan, November 2004

#14: "Remember, there is only one rule in this class: every word that comes out of my lips is dripping with gold." ~Matthew Kaufhold, June, 2003.

#13: "Oh yeah? You and what navy?" ~ Mike Kopena, May, 2003.

#12: "Isn't 'character' just a nice way to say 'horribly ugly'?" ~ Jennifer Treuting, August, 2005.

#11: "You're wrong. You're wrong-you're wrong-you're wrong. You. Are. Wrong." ~Mike Troxell, various points between January, 2000 and December, 2009.

#10: "Dad, this is boring as hell. Aren't there people they pay to do this kind of work?" "Yeah...me." Myself and dad, September, 2000.

#9: "Ugh, my shirt has a blood stain on it. What gets blood out?" "Vampires." Myself to Michael DiRoma, January, 2002.

#8: "We are so unbelivably, incredibly, egregiously, unceremoneously fucked, it's pathetic!" Bes in CR34, October 2006.

#7: "Who doesn't love New Years? Double the amount of drunken lunatics AND the trains are on a Holiday schedule!" Andrea Uva, December 2009.

#6: "Have no fear, Thomas. Things will always work out." Luke Haidorfer, March, 2000.

#5: "If you come into work the day after your 21st Birthday you're fired." Nick Lowe, August 2004.

#4: "This professor has hit an age where every problem has 2 solutions. Prozac and Cognac." Prof. Diamantino Machado, February, 2003.

#3: "Oh I may be self-centered and self-involved, but the difference is I *know* I'm not interesting." Christophe Jammet, December 2009.

#2 "Women are like Oxygen. There's more to that quote, but I've forgotten." "So there's no women in outerspace?" Larry the Bus Driver & Camp Counselor Tom Brennan, August 2002.

And the Number one quote of the Tom Brennan decade:

#1: "Our motto is...always follow your motto!" The Idiot Brigade, April, 2001.

Pants, or, I told you that story to tell you this one.

2010-01-25T21:18:00.000-08:00

(The events you're about to read are 100 percent true, though dialogue about the event concerning fall of 2001 has been edited for dramatic effect. Fuck you, James Frey.)

Last night, I was doing some laundry back up at my parents apartment -- a slightly above-scale Central Park West Apartment building -- and as I go to put my stuff in the dryer, I couldn't help but notice my jeans were missing. My first clue? They weren't in the washer. Naturally, I figured someone wouldn't jank my jeans from the washer. What kind of lunatic would do that?

Apparently a lunatic teen who lives in my parents' building. After 100% confirming that my pants were gone and that I wasn't a moron who'd left them in the laundry cart, I sulked about the laundry room only to see the very same pants, folded on top of a pile of laundry. My eyes bolted upwards to see him -- that fucking jerk with the skinny jeans.

Which poses the first question here: Why does a kid who wears skinny jeans go out of his way to steal a pair of 33-33 jeans?

The second question: why had he taken the time to dry and fold the pants? Why not simply abscond with them? Clearly this thief was the most responsible thief in the laundered clothing game.

So I say "Hey -- those are my pants."

And he says "...what?"

And I say "Those pants. Those are my pants."

He silently panics

"Uh...oh yeah, they didn't seem like mine."

"Yeah, cuz they were in MY wash."

"Oh yeah. Weird."

"How did you even get the washer open?"

"I didn't steal--"

"Look, just forget it." I blurted out as I took my pants back from his pile and stormed off.

Later, when going out to watch the game with friends, I passed him and his teen cronies as they cackled on the park benches out back, no doubt fawning over their Lady Gagas and their PSPs. He spotted me and immediately looked nervous. I confidently scoffed, motioned towards my pants and said "my pants."

I realize in retrospect he might have been embarrassed and I might have felt triumphant, but his friends probably thought I was a NAMBLA chairman.

Now, I told you that story to tell you this one:

It's November 2001 and my grandfather had just passed away. We were all understandably disappointed at this news, but his time had come. So we all head down to Cape May, NJ for the funeral. My grandfather had spent his last months in a nursing home in the Bronx -- physically he was fine but mentally he'd checked out. He was still the most likeable guy in the room and a friendly, concerned citizen. He just couldn't quite tell you the year or where he was -- but then again, catch me on an off moment at work and I wouldn't know either.

It was of great importance to my parents that my grandfather look good in the casket. They pulled out a tan jacket, his trademark, and they got the perfect pair of pants to go with it. We're en route to the funeral home to drop off his clothes for the viewing, when my dad decided to stop at Reynolds, a clothing store that had been having a "going out of business" sale for approximately 17 years. I remember this clearly because my mom was outraged that we were stopping -- we were on track to be on time (a Brennan family rarity. Really, going anywhere with the Brennan family is like that Bill O'Reilly "We'll do it live" video).

But on this day, my father would stop at nothing to get a new pair of pants to wear to the funeral. And he got those pants. He was really excited. I don't remember too vividly what they looked like, but I know they were light brown. Really subtle. He loved these pants. LOVED them. My dad gets very excited over some seemingly mundane shit and this day was no exception. Musicians were singing the tales of these pants. A mural was going up outside Philadelphia's City Hall.

The pants were a big deal.

But mom really was getting mad -- she does this thing where her head vibrates and she says everything's fine. That's when it's time to go. So dad wisely threw his pants in the trunk and we sped off.

The viewing goes on as planned and it is a solemn occasion.

We have dinner that night -- it was a tough evening but we all got through it, telling all of those funny stories people tell at funerals, and saying -- almost as if it's a union mandate -- "he would have wanted it this way.

(Incidentally, I hate when people say "she would have wanted it this way" or "that's what he would have wanted" at funerals. "He would have wanted us to laugh." "This ceremony is exactly what she would have wanted." I'm fairly certain the dead would have "wanted" is a better set of breaks on that truck or a different surgeon. But that's me.)

The next morning, dad can't find the mythical pants anywhere. We tear the house we're staying in apart for them. Nothing. Finally we realize we should just check the trunk of the car, but again -- nothing. So my father, trying desperately to not let his family realize how genuinely disappointed he is that he's lost his much heralded pants, changes into the same suit from the night before.

When we arrive at the church, we're the first to pray next to the body before mass. We're allowed one last viewing. Mom and Caroline go up first and kneel. Dad and I wait side by side, a solemn moment of silence. Though it was my mother's father, I still sense my dad now feels a sense of responsibility. He's the senior man in the family. And as we walk up to say one final goodbye, I felt a bond with my father that I can't say I've truly felt before or sense. When we knelt, side-by-side, I could tell that we were--

"He's wearing my pants." dad whispers.

"What?" I ask. Because that's what I always say when I'm confused.

Dad motions towards my grandfather's waste. Yup, he's got a pair of light brown pants that seem a size or two too big for him.

"He's about to be buried...in my pants."

"Wow, yeah he is."

"Tom...check the pockets."

"What?"

"Check the pockets, see if I left any money in them."

"...no, I'm not going to be doing that."

"Oh come on, we'll never get another chance."

"I am not putting my hand in a dead man's pants."

"Your grandfather would have wanted--"

"No!"

"...fine."

As we got up to leave and word of the pants mishap spread like wildfire amongst the family, we could do nothing more but enjoy the service.

Later that day, at the Marine cemetery, my father and mother received the flag from my grandfather's coffin. My dad takes a step forward and stumbles a bit next to the grave itself. As we helped him back up, he muttered. "I just can't let those pants go."

I love that story and I very may well have written it on this blog before, but I don't care if you've already heard it because it's awesome. Beyond that, I do, on some level, consider my victory over the pants thief to have officially avenged my father's loss that November day. So that's my lesson, kids, always have an ending to your stories.

And for those of you who may leave this blog thinking that my family is really weird, well, #1, so is yours and #2 at least I didn't bring up the funeral where we tried to set up one cousin on a date with another cousin. Doesn't matter if they're from opposite sides of the family, that shit's just weird...

Healthcare, you say?

2010-01-25T13:28:00.000-08:00

Haiku 2010!

2010-01-24T20:38:00.000-08:00

One may not know why
But one may know where, when, how
That might be enough.

You stole my pants you
Lousy, teenage mother fuck--
Er, what is that smell?

"Will you do stand up
Comedy before we have
Healthcare?" he challenged.

Shaq v. Michael Phelps
Would have been better if they
Added Tiger Sharks

There aren't enough hours
For all this reading I've left
Plod Plod Flip Flip Sulk

Justsayinbull.org

2010-01-24T17:04:00.000-08:00

In my last post, I said (and I quote), "A lot of people have been asking me to talk about the late night situation" (or something like that, I didn't bother to read it, myself). And I got asked last night by the girl who those people were. Well! They were...no one, really. No one particularly cares what I have to say. But I say it anyway. Why? Because I'm on the internet, where no one can stop you! Everything's made up, the points don't matter and the only people I don't make fun of are my employers, because I rather like my job and even more so, I like having health insurance.

Anyway, the internet is a fantastical place. Why? Because you can do whatever you want and then tell people they're overreacting. Last night there was a rumor on Twitter that Johnny Depp had died. I'm sure whoever said that thinks it's no big deal and it is, admittedly, a drop in the bucket compared to bigger troubles. But there's a wonderful section in the book "When the Game was ours" about Larry Bird and Magic Johnson's rivalry, where Larry Bird had heard on the radio, erroneously, that Magic Johnson had died. He nearly drove off the road. Imagine if you heard someone you cared for had died, but wait, it was just a wacky prank. Wokka wokka!

Earlier this week, Scott Baio made some joke about Michele Obama on his Twitter. I don't really know what it was, all I know is this brouhaha has outraged me for one important reason: People still care who Scott Baio is? This guy's been co-responsible for the death of Happy Days and Arrested Development. Can't we just forget he existed before he destroys something again?!

Wait...maybe this is his whole game; he's a conservative, maybe he's trying to insert himself into the Obama administration to get that cancelled too! Don't fall for it, Democrats! Replace him with Henry Winkler, Fast! AND DON'T LET HIM NEAR A SHARK TANK!

See, beyond the idiocy of Scott Baio being a moron on Twitter, is the response it generated. Death threats against the guy over it, accusations of racism (despite the fact that the joke wasn't too racist -- although interestingly enough, Baio claimed he wasn't racist because his wife's best friend is black and because he directed episodes of The Wayans Brothers and The Parkers. As man who had to quality-check tapes of those shows in syndication -- I can hardly agree with anyone who says that being attached to those shows doesn't make you a racist.)

But see, the death threats were e-mailed. So they probably didn't mean anything. He's probably not in any danger. Folks e-mail shit and feel it doesn't really count because they didn't say anything. After all, it's just the internet, where nothing you say matters.

Wait, seriously, we're talking about Scott Baio? Didn't he die in a skydiving accident? Well, he did now. There, I'm starting the rumor: Scott Baio, dead in a sky diving accident. His last words were "the parachute was black!"

But what really bugs me is seeing folks I respect on Twitter taking him to task for it. I'm not saying I don't think he should be held accountable for his words. But does no one else stop and think for a moment, "hey, I just took a stand...on Twitter. That's kinda pathetic." But there are people -- adults! Grown women and men with lives and jobs and families who will get into agonizing moral debates...On Twitter! Heck, I've done it, and I think I'm a pretty smart guy. But really -- just because it involves words (and, one would claim, logic) doesn't make it anything less than a newer, 140-characters-or-less school yard in which we can hurl mud. It's really weird at times. And allows categorically useless folks like Scott Baio to keep talking. I'm not sure my point here, it's just another consequence I think we should keep an eye on.

Dude, I'm totally posting this on Twitter.

My Old Man's a Cotton Picking, Finger Lickin' Chicken Plucker. What do you think about that?

2010-01-23T15:29:00.001-08:00

Welcome back, my friends.

A lot of folks have asked me my stance on the late night situation. Well I'm gonna comment on it here. Now those of you who know me know I speak my mind. I do not hold back when asked to speak. I throw it out there and let y'all suss out your opinion from mine. So here we go. I'm gonna say what we're all thinking about the late night situation. You ready? Okay.

I've heard Conan say plenty of things about Haiti's situation. But no one in Haiti's saying anything about Conan's situation. That's just rude.

Alright, alright, moving along. Over at his blog, comedian Michael Ian Black articulated my thoughts pretty succinctly. I'm not a Leno fan -- I don't have the same angry, visceral reaction to his comedy that others my age have -- I just kinda view him as vanilla ice cream. I don't get mad at vanilla. I just tend to not eat it. And for that reason and a myriad of others, I won't be eating Jay Leno. And further, I love Conan. I find his monologues painful, but I find his shows to be hilarious and his ideas phenomenal.

But I just couldn't get behind this mass hysteria that America (particularly my age group) fell into over his cancellation. I'm disappointed, and it seems TV's let a lot worse shows with poor ratings stay on for way longer. But it was weird seeing such incredible backlash against NBC and Jay Leno and the way things are in America over a comedy TV show. I despise those people who scream "Why are you crying over Brad and Angelina when there's birds dying in Gaza" but as Black rightly points out, there was this attitude that says Conan was this oppressed little guy dumped on by a corporate structure, when in reality he's a show that got cancelled in his first year, like tons of other shows.

And it also spoke to, what I found to be, an immature view of the entertainment industry. A ton of people seem to accuse Leno of stealing the tonight show -- but I kinda feel like in today's information age we'd know if he directly machinated Conan's demise. There's another side that considers his decision to go back to the Tonight Show a betrayal of Conan or something. On a similar note, I'm not sure I agree with Black's assertion that he should have just left TV altogether -- standing for principle is nice and all, but when you have an entire production staff with families in a down economy, do you wan tot put them out of work over an ill-defined principle? And don't get me started on the "hilarious" Jimmy Kimmel's berating Leno because: "Conan and I have children, leave our shows alone." I think the kids will be fine.

That said, it's a true loss to have Conan O'Brien off the air. The man could have continued to change the way late night talk shows run. But does that even matter anymore? How many of us were watching in the first place? Heck, our generation loves The Jersey Shore. Do we really want intelligent writing and forward-looking entertainment? We're the ones sending the message that when it comes to entertainment, we want something that doesn't challenge us, that doesn't require much thought and that generally spends more time embarrassing real people than it does using the medium to create something lasting, entertaining and creative. What does that leave us with?

You got 'im!

Oh, also...

2010-01-18T23:30:00.000-08:00

...to the person who Googled "Rachel Turnpaugh is a terrible person" and landed on this page...I caaaaan seeeeee yoooooou.

And I'm glad there are people out there who think she's terrible, because it settles the argument:

"is there a such thing as a complete moron?"
"Yes. Anyone who thinks Rachel Turnpaugh is a terrible person."
"Are there such people?"
"Oh, yes."
"So complete stupidity is possible? That's a load off."

Those folks should get one of those dunce klansmen hats.

Grover Henson feels forgotten, or We Have Met the enemy and it am us.

2010-01-18T23:13:00.001-08:00

So let me ask you something,

What if you found out you had a year to live?

I’m not dying. Neither are you. Probably. I mean, you might be, but I really don’t know. I hope you’re not. Unless you’re Mrs. Yang, my chem teacher from 10^th grade, then I hope you’re dying. Nah, I guess I don’t hope that. That’s mean.

Nah, fuck it, if you can all wish harm on Jay Leno and Sarah Palin and other people you don’t know, I can wish harm on a woman who called me stupid for not getting Chemistry. So there.

But what if you found out you had a year to live?

The conventional wisdom says we’d either go nuts, indulge in violence, drugs and sex, or go the opposite route and “stop to smell the roses.” Me, I like to think we’re not all that lazy and selfish. Though I’d probably at least grab an F-14 and blow up one national monument. I’d pick one of the bad ones. In fact, I’d go and bomb the Space Needle in Toronto. No one of value will be lost.

I just realized on Friday that I’m on the other side of 25 and to the old people I know, I’m sure this is a frivolous sentiment, but it really has me freaked out. I once joked at 15 that I was having a mid life crisis. If that’s true, I’ve got 4 years left to live. It’s probably not true. But still, you never know.

And that’s just it – when they say “live like there’s no tomorrow,” they’re trying to gloss over the reminder that it could all go away in a second.

I’m sick and tired of thinking about death. I’m not looking for sympathy, I’m not looking to emo blog. But I can’t get it out of my head. It’s where I am. But it’s not where I want to be – I want to be far away from it and I begin to worry if this isn’t the beginning of some form of mental illness. I mean, is this how people are? Do they dwell like I do and just keep it to themselves? Am I disturbed? Or am I just fed up of pretending I’m not?

I keep coming back to this same place – this place where I’m just full of incredible rage but I don’t know what at. This place where I want to scream at the top of my lungs but I don’t know what I’d say, and I’d probably just apologize for screaming in the first place.

And then it came to me like a flash. Really, like a text message. Stop dreaming and start living.

Earlier today I vaguely alluded to an existential crisis to a colleague and he responded, “well, I suspect you’ll worry about this until a real-world crisis pops up and distracts you enough so you can just muddle through like the rest of us.” I know his candor was intended to boost my mood – and succeeded – but it also keyed into the heart of my problem:

Is this all there is? Am I just muddling through to get through the day? Cause I can’t do that anymore.

(Hey, why did Dunce Caps look like Klan hoods?)

I made a promise to myself after it all went down 4 years ago that if I was still waking up in the morning, it would be to do something. And I don’t know if I have. But I guess it doesn’t really matter if I have. Past is past, mothafucka, like the Rubiyat of Omar Khayyam says, don’t build your hopes on the past or the future. Even if I have done something (which I earnestly debate), the crucial thing is not what was done then nor what to do next but what to do now.

Now, I’m gonna live my life like I have one year left to live.

Happy Anniversary

2009-03-02T21:29:00.000-08:00

I don't know what to say about it anymore. So I'll say this:

This one time, he and I are walking to go grab a slice of pizza. We were imitating drunk people -- we'd never been drunk at this point, so we were just half-assing it -- and at one point he goes "Hey, man, I love you man!" in that beleaguered, drunk frat boy type. And we laugh and turn to face the Walters from 3C.

"Hey guys!"
"Oh, hi, Mr. and Mrs. Walter."
"We just got back from the movies -- we saw In&Out. ...I think you two would really like it!"
::silent pause::
"Well, good night."

It made for an awkward rest of the evening, I can tell you that.

The Doctor is in!!!

2009-02-03T19:02:00.000-08:00

So apparently the entire blogosphere is now up in arms over the Daschle business, with those to the hard left commanding el presidente to appoint Howard Dean.

I don't disagree. I'd love to see him get the job. At the very least, it'd be nice to see a guy who won for the Democratic Party get a job, rather than a big time loser like Daschle.

That said, Ryan J. Davis a "freelancer theater director" and blogger for the Huffington Post, one of Dean's internet champions, referred to Dean as a two-term governor. He's a four term governor. But then Davis also referred to General Petraeus as a member of Obama's administration. Though he certainly falls under Obama's purview as Commander in Chief, he's not a member of the administration.

These may seem like minor mistakes, but they get to the heart of the problem I have with blogosphere. It's uninformed, sloppy and poorly researched. Am I any better? No, but I don't pop up on the Huffington Post and I wouldn't let a lot of this show up on it. No, the blogopshere is the wild west. It's a place where people can say whatever they want and consequence be damned. And yet I hear all the time about the power of the blogs -- they busted the Monica Lewinsky case. They busted John Edwards's affair. They revealed all of that info about Palin's various background controversies.

Okay, fine. What good did any of that get us? How are our lives better with this information in our lives?

It's all just gossip mongering by unqualified hacks. People with good hearts and good interests but no real insight are suddenly considered voices of our time and given a platform to amplify their opinions. Worse, they don't even bother to do the research for even the smallest facts. Shit, we do more research on the smallest facts and we're putting out comics. We're not trying to shape the public sphere of debate. I don't think they entirely realize that because of what they report or advocate, they have a little more clout. They have a great amount of power and with that comes a great responsibility (ha!) -- the shit you say (and oh hoho I stress shit) matters. It's taken very seriously -- it's considered as credible as most mainstream news. Be responsible with it.

Update -- in Banjo form!

2009-02-02T20:31:00.000-08:00

Hey all -- been swamped the past few weeks and now I'm feeling on the sick side of things, so I'm going to have to pass on an actual update. Here's Steve Martin from SNL. I loved it and would like to share.

Me Gotta Be Blue...

2009-01-13T05:07:00.000-08:00

Words as true today as they were when they were first spoken.

ATTENTION RICH PEOPLE: STOP KILLING YOURSELVES

2009-01-06T19:50:00.000-08:00

http://www.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/europe/01/06/germany.billionaire/index.html

A German billionaire, one of the richest men in the world, kills himself over the financial meltdown world wide. A few weeks ago, one of the victims of the Madoff scandal killed himself too.

What's wrong with you, rich people?! C'mon, a little rain must fall in every life and you're gonna go kill yourselves over it? Look, I have never (and probably will never) have money in my life -- do you see *me* locking up the steak knives over it? Of course not.

On behalf of those of us who are excited just to get a gift card as a year end bonus, here's a quick guide of advice to all you rich people on the ledges:

(1) Lunch Special menus. Always lunch special menus

(2) pay only the minimum payment on your credit card from here on in.

(3) "What? Well I sent the check digitally, it's the bank's fault. It sure as hell isn't in *my* account anymore." <--- learn this phrase well, and repeat it often.

(4) cut your internet service and learn your neighbor's WiFi log in. Then, blog about it.

(5) "I've got the check--" "Okay!" <--- again, learn it well.

(6) Pay as you go. Everything.

(7) Layaway. You feel like you've earned it when it takes six months before you can wear it.

(8) Rob people. It's cheap, easy and effective way of making money.

But for God's sake -- don't KILL yourselves! Can you imagine what it'll do to the ledge and noose industries if their products become designer? Then the lowly peons who seek the end won't be able to afford it. Typical rich white people -- find something poor people love to do and make it too expensive and trendy for anyone to enjoy it. But c'mon, people, think of what you have to live for -- besides the money. I mean, without that wealth and all the possessions it gave you, it's not like your lives are empty, right?

Anyone? Bueller?

Tomorrow, I visit Albany -- AND THE STATE OF THE STATE ADDRESS! Stay tuned for a detailed report!

Day One/Day Off

2009-01-01T21:20:00.000-08:00

Spent the day in a coma-state. I plan to return to that state shortly. But I wanted y'all to know I made it to 2009.

That said, our man Dave Casey provided the perfect slogan for our new year, particularly in respect to the year that was 2008:

2009: Let's See What Happens!

Indeed, David. Indeed.

200 Posts

2008-12-31T17:59:00.000-08:00

I lied to you.

This isn't the 200th post. It's the 200th public post. There are 6 private ones and they're staying that way.

This was bound to happen. From the moment I started this blog, I was bound to get here. Even the months where nothing happened, I was bound to get here. Even the weeks where something happened and I wrote it down but never put it up, this was bound to happen. Even when I pretended I hated blogs and that "this stuff was stupid" this was bound to happen. This was bound to happen from the moment I walked out the door of college and had to start acting like an adult.

When I started this thing, I did so under the pretext of "taking a stand." A stand against what? I couldn't tell you then. A stand for who? I didn't know then. But I've got it now. I've got it. I'm standing up for you. No, this isn't a snobby campaign ad parody. I mean -- I've been standing up for your amusement. I've been standing up for your entertainment. I've been standing up to be noticed by you. That's why we stand up anyway -- to make ourselves known.

I hate when people feel alone. I hate when they feel no one understands them. Yes, sometimes we've go to be physically alone. That's fine. But no one should ever feel that they're alone in this world. You see, I started this blog at a different time in my life -- I felt alone. Very alone. Two years later and I'm still writing this from the same seat I wrote that first post. But I'm in a different place now. I did this so I wouldn't feel alone -- and so you wouldn't feel alone either.

We need people to stand up. Not just the history making moments that change a country -- there are some people we need to see wake up in the morning, because for so many of us that's the hardest thing we'll ever do.
It seems so simple -- and if we just get past it, we'll be okay. But -- it's impossible at times. For all of us. And yet a great many of us do it because there's simply no other choice. I guess -- and I'm sorry if this is an egotistical thing to say -- I did this because I wanted people to know that when I felt awful I was still getting up. Because I wanted the people I knew who felt afraid, who felt sad, who felt alone and who felt they couldn't get up in the morning -- I wanted them to know I was still getting up. And I wanted them to still feel they could get up. I wanted them with me, every day. Really, I needed them with me every day. Because it's just as hard for me to get out of bed some days.

Worry not, though, I'm still here. I'm still gonna get up and do this thing. Heck, hopefully I'll do even more next year. But for now -- let's do this thing. Let's go celebrate New Years. Let's go change the world in 2009. A lot of folks have called 2008 the worst year in recent history. It was tough, but a good friend of mine said earlier this evening "All these descriptions of fear, hardship, difficulty -- I think they're what psychologists and coaches call growth." So let's do it.

We're all in this together.

Year End Award

2008-12-31T17:34:00.000-08:00

And the winner of the Tom Brennan Year End award for excellence goes to...

...
...ALEX YELLEN!

Froze out of my own award for the 9th consecutive year...

I've know Alex Yellen for over three years -- he's one of the original Game Night/Capture The Flag guys. And he'll get made fun of by me. And Christophe. And Jennifer. And himself. And everyone. A lot. But it's only because we love the guy. And because he'll be the first to tell you -- it's fun making fun of Yellen. He's the plucky underdog, the mensch, a George Costanza outlook with a heart of gold. Well, maybe not gold. But gold foil with chocolate underneath (thus the Jazz ability)

http://www.alexanderyellen.com/story.html

For the past couple of months, he's been getting folks to "tell him their stories." He sets up a mic and waits in a park. People can't help but stop and he just let's them talk. Check it out -- it's a heartening, moving experience. Alex, buddy, we're proud of you. You're a good man.

And this got me to 7-out-of-8 posts on the night.

"What's your New Year's Resolution?" "600 DPI"

2008-12-31T16:46:00.000-08:00

This time of year, obviously, is reserved for the resolutions. But I frequently hear from friends that they "resolved to not have resolutions."

Why? Same ol' story -- "I never stick to them" or "what's the point? I always say I'm going to lose weight and put it on instead. So I'm not making one."

And to that I say, "Don't bother, you bloviating fat ass!"

Here's the key: tell other people. Make yourself accountable. Give your friends an investment in your success, and be a part of theirs.

Just like I'm about to do.

This year, I resolve to:

Lose weight. Seriously, guys, I got love handles this year. I'm 25 years old. I can't have love handles. Those are for pear-shaped dads and drag queens. Maybe this is the price I pay for being bi and being in a profession that's pretty much fat guys or gay guys. But no more. I'm losing weight and getting in shape, cliche as it may be.

Get serious about comedy. I'm never gonna be Seinfeld, and I don't particularly aspire to me. (it's fruit at a grocery store. It's wacky. We get it. Jeez.) Anyway, I do however want to get back into performing. It's a hell of a lot of fun and it helps me with my public speaking. Plus I'll get free drinks if I do it right.

Move out. Closer friends know I'm currently back at home after a few expeditions out. I'd like to have some solid ground and my own space. More importantly, I'm tired of being Peter Parker all the time. At least he has an excuse...

Move to North Korea. Ha, just checking to see if you were paying attention.

Move Up at work -- My goal is to have at least 3 trades where I'm credited as Editor. That's quickly changed to a bigger goal -- I want to get promoted to Associate Editor. I think I can do it -- heck, I know I can. But it's not as easy as simply doing the work. I won't get into the politics of it, especially cause that's the talk of bitter folk and I'd say it's a remarkably fair system. But I want to do everything in my power to get promoted -- I may still be an Assistant a year from now and that's fine, so long as I left it all on the table.

Take a salsa class. Yeah, what about it?

Shoot Something Worth seeing -- I'm going to shoot a few scenes form my Junior Year Screenplay. I rally all actors, artists and film crew -- whoever wants in, you're in.

Do something for the community that makes me proud <-- Self explanatory, I'd say.

In short, I want to build on last year. I finally feel a strong direction in life. I got a good feeling about this 2009. Let's get it started.

A Musical Intermission

2008-12-31T15:45:00.000-08:00

That picture montage took more work than you'd think, and I still don't like it entirely. But it'll have to do. With that in mind, I need a shower to regroup and get past the second half. So, a musical interlude by the band I saw last night and a little bit from the band I'll see tonight. First, Trombone Shorty and Orleans avenue cover BrainStew by Green Day

Now, Amanda Palmer's lovely Oasis:

What a year looks like in the life of Tom Brennan.

2008-12-31T15:19:00.001-08:00

A Mighty Comic Book Fill in!

2008-12-31T14:49:00.000-08:00

I contribute to a blog at work, and earlier this week in my "What Have I learned this year" Column, I had somethoughts on the mistakes I make at work. It seems extremely relevant today, so I'd like to share it with you now. Enjoy!

WHAT HAVE I LEARNED THIS YEAR, PART 3: OFF-WEEK

These rare quiet weeks give me a moment to reflect, and when I reflect, I frequently look back on all the mistakes I made. That should give you a good idea of what my childhood was like. Putting out 36 issues of Spider-Man in one year, mistakes can’t help but get made. Many of you were kind enough to point them out to us in e-mails through out the year. It’s a cliché amongst editors, but I’m new enough at this to have never said it before: nothing kills you more than opening the first make-ready copy of a book and seeing a mistake. Cuz once it’s in print, that’s the ball game.

My first major mistake at work was crediting the wrong guy for a cover. My boss was kind enough to take the rap publicly for it – after all, I’d been here about a month and he had to go out of town the week the book left house. But I’ve never felt worse about something. I ran into that same jilted cover artist at a convention later that summer, and when I apologized for it, he smiled and said, “the *check* had my name on it, so I’m okay.”

That does lead to the much more painful mistake you can make of not paying your freelancers when work comes in, which can occur from time to time. *That* one particularly stings you because when it does occur, it too often happens to the guys who really bust their humps to make the payment deadline.

It’s an odd situation being a comic book editor – much like a producer in TV or Film, if you do your job right, no one thinks you’ve done anything at all. But when you screw up, everyone notices. Even if they don’t, *you* notice and sometimes that can be even worse. (Especially if you’re prepared to hang yourself for every mistake you’ve made since 4th grade, like me.)

In a situation as unique as the thrice monthly book, I can sometimes get stuck with a case of tunnel vision. There will be moments where the assembly line mentality comes dangerously close to trumping doing it the right way. You can have a thousand eyes on a book and still miss the most obvious mistakes. Issue 581 went through all of the necessary sets of eyes and a few extra ones – and we only noticed right before we sent the book out that dialogue balloons were going to the wrong people in one crucial page. We caught it that time – but sometimes we don’t. That said, I think we tend to catch the big ones before they go out. Still, all the effort in the world won’t prevent a mistake from slipping through.

The best advice I ever received about those mistakes was from a very unlikely place – John Stockton, legendary point guard for the Utah Jazz and the only six-foot-two 46-year-old white guy who’d put a scare into the guys at The Goat Park (look it up). I was at a past job assisting in a web interview, and he said something akin to the following quote (I can’t find our interview with him – this is from another interview he did with a different outlet, but essentially the same quote he gave us)

“I make bad decisions, too. I think the big thing, and it came from a long time ago, is that you just don’t give up. I make a lot of mistakes. As you get older, people say, 'You don’t make many mistakes’ and ‘You lose a step,’ and I’m not sure either is true. All you can do is keep trying, regardless of what happened the play before.”

Corny a sentiment as it is – it’s true. We make mistakes, and we push past it. That’s not to say you shouldn’t hold us accountable – by all means, call us on it (if nothing else, we can fix it for the trade!) because ultimately this entire industry drives on is the passion of those of us working on the books in the offices and across the world and those of you picking up the books in the stores. It’s the reason we push through those off-weeks.

This post might seem a cop out but I assure -- it's a message I need to repeat to myself, often.

(also, 3-for-8!)

VIEWER MAIL!!!!!!

2008-12-31T13:51:00.000-08:00

To start off my final sprint, let's dust off an old favorite, re-package it and tell you it's something you like. Just like work!

VIEWER MAIL!

(For those of you new to my blog, these are real questions from my real friends across the country. I neither apologize nor take responsibility for anything that may offend you here.)

Our first question comes from Luke, out of New York-bywayof-New Orleans-bywayof-New York-bywayof-Pittsburgh-bywayof-New York again
.

Mr. Brennan,

In your esteemed omniscient highly qualified professional and expert opinion, what changes would you make to following 2010 New York Knicks starting lineup:

Center: David Lee
Power Forward: Sweetums
Small Forward: LeBron James
Shooting Guard: a giant squid
Point Guard: Chris Duhon

Your pal,
Luke

Luke,

Good to hear from you. First of all, Sweetums, Muppet Monster extraordinaire, would be at Center. We might have him guard guys at the 4 spot, but he's got the height and the jump to be our Center. Then I'd bench that Giant Squid. The last thing you want in a starting lineup is someone who needs to be regularly hydrated in water. Plus, he's got the all around skills I want from a six-man. So who's at the 2 spot? I miss Crawford. Sweet shot, calm demeanor. There, there's your scoop, Blogmerica, I prefer Jamal Crawford to a giant squid.

Next up is from Alex in Taxachussetts. Alex?

Yo Tom,
Who put the bomp in shebomp-shebomp?
--Alexander Smellin'

Me. Next question!

Dearest Tom,
If you had to liken your penis to any food item in a 7-11, what would it be and why?
--Christophe Jammet

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, another gem from the Gulag of Bad Taste that is Christophe Jammet. But to answer your question -- a York Peppermint Pattie. One bite and you feel like you're Skiing down the Rockies.

...no, I don't know what that means. But I thought it was a better punchline than "because it's black on the outside and white on the inside." Our next one comes from Elaine in Park Slope.

Oh, Thomas Brennan,
What's your favorite childhood memory?
Love,
Dr. Elaine Palucki, PHD

Hey Elaine,
I once wrote on this a while back -- I was at Trinity Day Camp back when I was 7 -- so the age where the summer seems about, oh, forever. And I had my first girlfriend. I don't remember her name (ah, young love), but she had light red hair and she LOVED monsters. The Universal Monsters, right? Dracula, Frankenstein, The Mummy -- she even knew who Boris Karloff and Lon Chaney were. Exactly two seven year olds knew who they were, her and me. And for a blissful 3 weeks in the summer of 1990, she and I ran around the AstroTurf covered playing fields of Trinity High School, playing monsters. It's not necessarily my favorite memory, but it is my most vivid. And I'd say it's shaped my relationships since -- while I certainly like people with good qualities as romantic partners, it has taken a considerable weird streak to put up with me. If you don't know who Vlad the Impaler is; can't lie your way into the after party of a Scorcese movie (or at least into a gift bag); know that Boris Karloff is God -- well, you'd best not bother. And it's all that plucky little red head's fault in the summer of 1990...

Next up, Adrienne in Philadelphia. Take it away, Adrienne!

Dear Tom-orrow,
Why won't it snow?
With begrudging respect,
Adrienne

Come to New York, Adrienne. We got more than enough of the slushy crap lying around. Ugh. I hate snow. NEXT!

Our next question comes from Alan in Astoria.

Oh Wisened Tom,
What is the true nature of the Divine?
Sincerely,
Wiser Alan

Funny you ask this, Alan, a few weeks back a friend of mine ended up in a dispute with his significant other over religious beliefs. He made his point that he beleived God Existed because people believed in him. I'd have to put my faith in line with my friend's beliefs. Although on a surface level, I believe in the magical, mystical miraculous type of faith that our pop culture espouses, I've found that's pretty much because I have to -- meaning, I HAVE to believe in an afterlife. I've lost to many people dear to me to not believe that they live on somewhere other than my memories. But ultimately, I do believe the nature comes from our hearts and our belief in something better than ourselves. In high school we took a Theology class that explained the morals of bible stories. The priest teaching believed that, for example, the story of Jesus turning water into wine was probably, in fact, hyperbole -- he probably filled the room with a feeling of joy and warmth that it was "as if water was wine." That's what I believe the divine to be -- something we can create on Earth if we believe in and act in the best interests of something bigger than ourselves.

Next question comes from Mike up in Vermont.

Thofas,
Will the unthinkable happen to Barack Obama before his term of office expires?
--Troxwell

I certainly hope not, Trox. Not just because I support his policies but because I believe the defeatist nature of some humans contributed to the worst parts of the 60s -- that the deaths of King and the Kennedys lead people who *could* be better to duck their heads and stand back. If something happened to Obama, I think the wrong lessons would be learned by the young people who have now taken part in the political process. That would be the biggest crime of all, bigger than an assassination.

That said, Obama's from Chicago and if we learned anything yesterday -- those guys don't go down without a fight.

Next question from a completely different Mike out of Virginia-bywayof-New York.

Tom,
Will 2009 be the year that the world finally sees Marcel Marceau for the humanitarian he really is?
--Mike

No. He's dead, Mike. Let it go. Jeez, you and your Marcel Marceau obsession...

Next question from Jennifer out in Brooklyn.

Tooooom,
When will I get a pony for Christmas?
Jennnnnn

Jen,
We all have a pony we want or wanted for Christmas. For some, that job promotion might be a pony. For others, an education might be a pony. For some folks like you, a pony might be a pony. And all I can say is, if you're a good girl, maybe Santa will get you one next year.

But probably not.

Our next question comes from Ellie in Savannah, Georgia.

Tom Brennan,
What comic book did your 2008 most resemble?
--Elizabeth Pyle

That's a funny question, Ellie. As much as I want to say World War Hulk -- there's really only one way to go with this: Amazing Spider-Man, Brand New Day.

For many, many, maaaaany reasons.

Next up, Rachel from Florida (currently held prisoner in Memphis)

Well, Mr. Tom,
What were the most and least Keith Van Horn things you did this year?
--Rachel Turnpaugh

To those of you not-in-the-know, Keith Van Horn is an adjective Rachel and I developed this weekend. Being a Keith Van Horn would mean starting incredibly well and then failing miserable in the end, often in a hilariously avoidable fashion.

Well, Racharoo, I'd say most Keith Van Horn -- my savings account. Oh that looked great in January. I'd like to blame the economy but...no. No. Nonono. Least Keith Van Horn -- professionally speaking, I think I had a better finish than I did a start. But I'll find out during my year end review.

And finally, Joe in Park Slope has a solid closer:

Dear Tom,
Who was the most interesting/notable/despicable person you met in 2008?
--Joe

The answer to all three: Christophe Jammet. It's the gift that keeps on worsening.

No, for most interesting, I'd say former Kennedy Speechwriter Ted Sorensen. Talk about a guy who's seen it all -- he went from writing speeches for JFK in his Senate days to being a top adviser to Obama in this past election. That's some life.

Most notable: Mark Warner, former governor and future Senator of Virginia. Got to talk to him about Richmond's statues. Yeah.

Despicable: I'm not gonna list anyone here, because I believe someones only as despicable as their actions, and no ones actions were that despicable (to me, anyway). Ultimately we're all the heroes of some peoples lives and villains of others. I doubt anyone is truly, thoroughly despicable. For all Eliot Spitzer's terrible qualities, he put a lot of bad people in prison. No he shouldn't be absolved of his crimes. But ultimately no one act should define a person's life. Sadly it often does and I guess that's what we need to be conscientious of. Not just for ourselves but for each other. We're all in this together. I think even the worst person wants to stop doing something terrible. We all want redemption and we can all have it. We just need to find the courage. So no, Joe, no one I know is despicable. Some just commit some despicable acts. And for those friends of mine, I offer my friendship and support. As I said, we're all in this together and though I won't condone what they do, I will promise them my friendship. I promise them my love. I'll keep helping them to get better in whatever way I can.

Nice job, contributors. That's the press conference for today. See y'all's questions in 2009!

(2-for-8!)

Brennan's 8 in 08!

2008-12-31T13:43:00.000-08:00

With a little less than 8 hours to go in 2008, I'm doing my best not to obsess over what I could have done more of in the year. I did a hell of a lot, and while I fell short in some goals, I exceeded some others and I feel more on track than I usually do on 12/31. But there's one thing I could have done more of -- one thing I fell short of my goals on. Updating this blog.

But I'm about to make up for it, America!

Y'see, I'm about 8 posts short of 100 this year. That would bring the entire blog post count to 200. So in 2008's final hours, I'm putting this sucker to bed. 8 posts for '08. Can I make it? Given I already plotted out these posts on the subway, I'm going to say Yes, I can!

Stand by, dear reader(s), for I shalt rock thy world with the genius of a thousand suns! BRENNAN'S 8 IN 08 SHALL WIN!

(and yes, this counts as 1-for-8.)

Linear Adaptation

2008-12-26T22:35:00.000-08:00

I grabbed a quick beer at the bar on the way home and it occurred to me I have no real distinct memories of being at a bar by myself, and I suppose that's for the better. Most of my friends with distinct solo bar memories also have distinct, solo bar problems. But it got me thinking of the few memories I do have at a bar by myself -- it's a decidedly brief period. Although I'm a fan of the bar scene (in limited portions), it was really only late 05 -- early 06 where I spent a ton of time in bars. I don't like it too much. It feels slimy and fake. But those moments seem like such a snapshot in time now.

The Tralfamadoreans in Slaughter House Five can experience time in four dimensions -- they know every instant of their lives, from birth to death. They cannot change anything but they can choose what periods to focus on. Similarly, Red Dwarf once showed a form of Time Travel that allowed you to exist in a period of time within the confines of a photograph. I believe art is truly successful when you honestly *wish* it were true. I'm desperately envious of these fictional time travel abilities. I don't necessarily want to change the past -- I won't say I'd never change a thing, nor do I say I'd want to change everything. You guys know me; I'm nervous about absolutes.

But yeah, I can think of moments, good and bad, that I'd love to re-visit. I'd love to linger in them, to experience them again. I frequently do in my mind. And no, I wouldn't change a thing -- maybe I've a shitty imagination or maybe I'm just too locked up in reality, but I can't seem to change the ending to anything realistic anyway. I guess the reason I love movies -- even bad movies -- is that sort of controlled framing sequence around a period of time. I'm watching Joe Dirt right now -- I remember the first time I saw this awful movie. I remember who I saw it with, when and where.

Perhaps I dwell too much on these moments, but the Holidays are a snapshot moment for all of us. A huge build up for something that seems gone in an instant. But really life's just a bunch of snapshots in a line together. I suppose we can all eventually step back and look at all of them. You know what moment I'd go back to? Of a whole life of experiences?

Okay, so it was the summer after we all graduated from High School and we were hanging at Stophe's house. It's about 1 AM and we grab two tennis rackets and two of those velcro-throw/catch things. We head out to Lexington avenue and proceed to play tennis and catch.

Across the avenue.

There's no fascinating story attached. It was just Stophe, Luke, Mike Troxell and I having fun. It was one of the last times we were together before college. We're rarely together nowadays, all four of us. It happens, and it always feels the way I want it to feel. It feels like that night again. It feels like the moments I miss. And it's great to revisit them.

The time is right

2008-12-15T21:03:00.000-08:00

For a clip show stolen from Ben Rhine!

Where did you begin 2008? As per my M.O., I began it 5 minutes late as the Dresden Dolls concert didn't realize it was Midnight untill 12:05.

What was your status by Valentine's Day? At a lovely place in Prospect Heights trying to woo a writer into writing comic books. It failed.

Did you have to go to the hospital? Not at all. Though I could probably stand a physical.

Did you have any encounters with the police? I was given a summons for walking through Central Park after 1:00 AM. Did you know that walking in Central Park after 1:00 AM and before 6:00 AM is a crime punishable by fines that can go as high as $100.00? I do. I paid $25.00 bucks for it.

Where did you go on vacation? Voorhees, NJ.

What did you purchase that was over $500? Macbook Pro.

Did you know anybody who got married? Some, yeah.

Did you know anybody who passed away? Yes.

What sporting events did you attend? One of the last games at Yankee Stadium.

What concerts/shows did you go to? Cowboy Mouth, Trombone Shorty & Orleans Avenue and the Dresden Dolls. All tolled, a good good year.

Where do you live now? Sadly the same place. For now.

What has/have been your favorite moment(s)? Election day. Not just because we won, but the culmination of experiences and the friendships we made -- it was something. Silver Medal: Amazing Spider-Man #546. Bronze: winning the New York Filmrace.

Any new additions to your family? Nope.

What was your best month? Had a damn good October.

Made new friends? And how. Some great ones.

Favorite Night[s] out? We were technically *in,* but Whiskey/Game night at Joe's house at the beginning of the summer. I love the Sunday crew. That is all.

What do you want to change in 2009? 2008 was a lot of getting back up. 2009 will be about finishing off my game of catch up and once I'm all caught up, well...it's gonna be trouble.

Overall, how would you rate this year? 8.5

Change your hairstyle? Messing with the sideburns.

Get a new job? Same day job, a ton of new responsibilities in the out-of-work world.

Do you have a New Year's resolution? Debt free and move out.

Did anything embarrassing happen? Of course not. Does it ever?

Are you happy to see 2008 go? Yes. It's time to get moving.

Drank Starbucks in 2008? And how!

What are you wishing in 2009? That I take all the shots I want to take.

2008-12-15T20:55:00.000-08:00

This one's going out to all of you. Go forth! And Fear No Darkness!

How I feel everyday at work:

2008-12-07T23:49:00.000-08:00

If only I too had an explosive in my leg...

I'm somewhere where I don't know where I am...

2008-12-07T22:15:00.000-08:00

This one goes a little bit of everywhere, so stay with me.

The train took off from Philadelphia and I felt vaguely disappointed. I didn't feel like I did anything I normally *do* in Philly. Sure, the trip was late notice, and I took care of everything I meant to do, but I still felt like I should have done something I normally did in Philadelphia. And that's when I realize I never did anything in Philadelphia. Well, that's not true. It's just...what I did in Philadelphia I'd do with the people I knew in Philly, and none of them lived there anymore. Most of my clearest solo memories in Philadelphia involved leaving it. I didn't go out enough on my own. I'd walk around and observe, like I do. But I never did anything in particular. I never went out. How interesting that the friends I saw and spoke to in Philly last night were the ones I met those rare ocassions where I did go out.

What does that say about a place? Is a place immaterial?

It's a cold morning in March, 2006. The 13th if I remember correctly. It's 4:30 AM and pitch black. Weather is not quite the 9 degree temps it'd hit in February, but it's still balls-crushing cold. I amble out to the curb and hail a taxi; destination: 59th and 5th avenue. I'm going to the Early Show. It's my first day back since he died.

I'd started working at The Early Show to stop thinking about it. It being 2005 and the drama I'd faced down in my personal life (particularly the romantic side of it). I was going to dive into work. I'd work my way up to become a powerful Morning TV producer! And then BAM! SUCCESS! Mind you I didn't really want to work in morning television, and I thought producer was another word for bullshitmadeuptitle (kind of like assistant editor) but who cared? I'd been jilted, I'd been pushed around, I'd been run out of my adopted city -- it was time to dive in -- like the song goes, you're living in America, you're what you own. So I went all in.

And I was miserable. I'd wake up in the freezing cold every morning to slog down to a studio and get yelled at by some PR guy for a cast member of the Amazing Race. I started a week before the transit strike -- suddenly I had to be up even earlier so I could hop my bike down to 59th and 5th. You know what it's like biking down empty streets at 5 AM in the freezing cold? Sounds romantic, right? And it is. Unless you have to, oh I don't know, breathe.

Even worse the solitude and the hour gave me time to think. And I did. I'd think about the girl in Brooklyn, wherever she was. I probably wouldn't see her again. And I'd think about the girl I loved in Philadelphia, wherever she was now. Whenever we saw each other now it was clear we weren't the people we remembered. I knew I'd never see her again.

But I wasn't too concerned with those thoughts that morning. IT was my first day back after he died. There was no question that I'd never see him again.

I didn't know *where* my life would go from here. I just knew I had to get to work. I just had to make that one step back in and everything else would be okay. John Marone, my all time favorite CBS security guard, a former cop who'd seen many friends die, sees me coming in and shakes my hand.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he says, "but lemme tell you something, I'm glad you're here. Cause this is gonna fix it."
"Yes, nothing solves tragedy like a weather man and dancing umbrellas." I reply.
"That's not what I mean."
"Well that is what I meant, look at that guy, how can not being Dave Price not make you happy?"
"Good to have you back." he says, shaking his head.

2005 and 2006 are years I fear I obsess over. But it's only because they're where I started building this thing. I've such a bizarre emotional response to the period; the events weren't so pleasant. But it's where I met people like Alex and Diana and Tamara and Alan and Jennifer -- people who I can't imagine my life without. It's where I learned the most about myself. It's when I first started working at 826. Heck, I even regularly read articles written by my current boss back then. It's when life began for me.

I hate anybody who says "do you think you've piqued yet?" and yes I'm just as guilty of saying it. But really -- if you worry about piquing early I think you've missed the point. Because that implies a singular goal or purpose for all of this. And that's not the case. Life isn't about building up. It's about building out. No one ever truly leaves, even those you'll never see again. The anguish of leaving my friends in college gave way to the excitement of the new friends I made in New York that summer. The frustrations at my romantic fumbles gave way to the lessons I'd learn from the early shift. His death gave me a new life. 2005 gave way to 2006, and 2007, and 2008 and so it goes.

It's there for us. Right there. What we need is waiting. It simply takes waking up in the morning, and the fearlessness to go out.

Halfway Down The Stairs...

2008-12-04T23:38:00.000-08:00

I'd promised to do less of the youtube clips to my reader, but I have to put this one in because I don't at the moment have the energy to really talk about how I'm feeling lo this week. But my pal Robin the Frog has a pretty good assessment of how I'm feeling.

This is a time of year where I, like many other people, tend to reflect; not just on the year but really the whole life so far. And i've been having one of those weeks. So if I'm a bit slow in responding, here's why. I just have stuff on my mindz, yo. I'll be back in full, and in short order.

Also, Rabbit Troop sucks. Bonus points if you know that reference.

America's Hero(es)

2008-11-30T21:00:00.000-08:00

So I didn't hit my 120 posts in the month plan. I'm a bit humbled but...I was busy. Had the election stuff, the film race grand prix stuff, a shit ton of work -- it kept me busy. So I'm sorry I failed.

Speaking of failure, I give you Christophe Jammet. Long time reader of the blog know Stophe's my best friend (and runs a handy-dandy cycling blog over at http://alliwannadoisbicycle.blogspot.com/)

Anyway, today he organized and executed a Cyclocross (look it up, I don't feel like explaining it) race on Staten Island. In the 38 degrees, the rain, the grey sky and the Staten Island surroundings, all I could think was "damn, I'm a good friend to put up with this."

I'm also incredibly impressed with the work my man put in to make this happen. This was truly an epic race, in scope and effort. He organized the sponsors, reserved the course, found a charity to get all the proceeds directed to and even built the trophies himself. And for a freezing day on Staten Island in the middle of terrible wintry mix, there was a huge turn out; he even got the New York Times to cover it. That's dedication and I admire the fuck out of him for it. If you see him, give him his deserved props for his Herculean efforts. Even if the cyclist people clearly don't like me.

Here's another pic from this month's adventures in electioneering; it's in the Northeast Philly office moments before they called Pennsylvania. It's been a big month for the heroes.

Where Are You?

2008-11-16T17:40:00.000-08:00

It's a cliche in writing at this point, the idea that you just wake up one day and feel like you don't recognize yourself anymore, yet here I am. I'm wondering just who it is in my mirror. Who is that guy? I feel like a stranger amongst co-workers, amongst friends and amongst family. It's not as isolating as it sounds, which is certainly a plus. I feel like I'm vacationing in my life -- it's like a costume party, every day I try on a different person I could be when I grow up.

That's the big difference between now and a few months ago -- I don't hate the guy in the mirror. I'm just trying to get to know him better, that's all.

Sweet slice o'victory.

2008-11-09T22:27:00.000-08:00

If you haven't had a chance to see it yet, here we have Obama's victory speech.

By the by, if you've wondered, Ward 58 where we were all working, knocking from door to Republican, racist door?

52.9 % Obama, 46.0 % McCain.

Feels good.

Adventures in Broadcasting Spotlight: Conversations with Cops!

2008-11-09T20:17:00.000-08:00

Back in my days at The Early Show, I worked with a few of New York's finest retirees. It would seem at face value that we shouldn't have been friends; they were old guys from the Bronx and hardcore conservative Republicans. I'm a young guy from Manhattan and an ardent Democrat. But we came together the way all Americans inevitably come together: by hating our jobs.

Y'see, you learn a lot about the men and women you work with when you work out in the elements. And our jobs at The Early Show had us in the middle of freezing cold, scorching heat and all variations in between. When you're out on the windiest corner in New York City (59th and 5th) in 9 degree temperature, well, you bond. And we hung together because, well, we had to. And after a couple weeks of disliking me, somehow I'd earned their respect. They helped me understand how to take shots at yourself in an argument, and how to take an off-color joke as just that -- a joke. Were they PC? Not at all. But they showed their character in action -- and anyone who worked at CBS was judged on their work ethic, not whether or not they hit a checklist.

I got a lot of wisdom from those guys, but my two favorite moments came from the fun.

One day, myself and John Marone (leader of the security team) are arguing over the War in Iraq.

JOHN: "More Americans died in New York City in one year during the Dinkins' administration than have died in the Iraq War." (at the time, this was still true."

TOM: "Yeah, but that's cause you were still on the beat."

And maaaan did we laugh. My other favorite story came from Paul Sheehan, who looked exactly like Commissioner Gordon from Batman Begins.

"So it's New Years Eve and I'm working the beat for the ball drop. It's freezing, at least 15 degrees out. So I walk up to a squad car but it's packed. Suddenly I get a call on my walkie talkie. 'Sheehan, we need you up on the east gate.' So I'm about to leave when I stop and turn back to the car and take a chance. I knock on the window. They roll it down. 'Any of you guys Sheehan?' I ask. One guy nods. 'They need you up on the east gate. He goes 'Fuck!' and bails out of the car, so I take his spot and stayed there till the New Year."

"How'd you know they'd be named Sheehan?"

"It's the NYPD, there's 42 percent Sheehan."

I miss those days -- it was like my boot camp for work ethic. It's where I learned to physically struggle for your job. Days of running back and forth, of screaming into a walkie talkie, of freezing my ass off in front of FAO Schwarz, of jawing with a bunch of cops who didn't agree with me on politics but always punctuated arguments with "But I'll still vote for ya. You're no dumb liberal." It was one of the best times of my life. I never wanna go through it again -- but I'm damn glad I did it...

The First Press Conference

2008-11-08T13:01:00.000-08:00

Last year I managed to keep this fight against NaBloPoMo going with a little help from my friends. My questionable friends. My constantly questioning friends. My friends who go out of their way to pry into every last facet of my life. In other words, I got this done thanks to:

VIEWER MAIL!

Our first question comes all the way from Alex in Newton, MA.

Dear Tom,

Should I be worried about this off-color growth on my back?

With Love,

Alex

Well, Alex, this is a tough question but a good one because it's something we can all learn from. First of all, yes. Yes you should be worried. But the worry isn't a conventional worry, like "how am I going to pay for gas?" or "what can I do to ensure the New York Knicks can turn it around?" Your worry should come from the fact that we all must learn how to deal with the fact that in our lives we frequently find ourselves forced to adapt to new people, ideas and additions to the world in which we live. The true test we all face is whether or not we *can* adapt. The truth is we must adapt -- we either adapt or die, that's reality. So try your best to move on, Alex. Also, you should probably talk to a dermatologist.

Our next question comes from Diana in the Bronx.

Brennan,

What will Tom Brennan do now that he has to quit the election addiction cold turkey?

Sincerely,

Post

Don't you worry, Post, there are always other obsessions. I'm pretty good at 'em. There will be a Mayor's race next year. There's work to obsess over. I like to do my laundry, that'll take up some time. I've become interested in playing soccer again. Going back to the laundry thing, it seems like the way to spend a lot of my days. After all, I've got the spin cycle down, and I've figured out that if I just use soap in the pre-wash rather than both washes, I have a slightly more comfortable load of clothing to wear. It's softer, you know? And it does put to an end the itching quality that I find with too much soap. You know that feeling? It's the worst. Especially because I find myself wondering if it's me or the clothes. And if it is me well, that's disconcerting. But no, it was the soap. I'm a bigger fan of the dry cycle than the wash because, well, it's more straightforward. That said, our dryers could stand to be reworked a bit. Too often our heavier items are still damp at the end. Heck, I've had full loads not dry at all. That's a problem that could stand to be solved. I mean shit, we pay $1.50 for those dryers. That's a ton of lost money on a useless drying job. So as you can see, I got my hands full.

Our next question comes from Chris in Someshittybogwherehedidcyclocrossthismorning, NY

Oh Tom(my),

Do you ever whack off to Sarah Palin? If not, would you? DO it now. How long did it take?

Sincerely,

Christophe

Yes, yes and 82.5 seconds.

Terry from Rhode Island has our next question. Terry?

Yo, Tom,

What would it have taken for John McCain to win Pennsylvania?

From,

Terry

Hillary Clinton as his running mate

And our final question comes from Ned out of Bainbridge Island, Washington. Bring us home, Ned!

Dear Tom,

What should the U.S. Policy be in Afghanistan in the coming months/years? Assuming the availability of troops after a draw down from Iraq, should the U.S. then send as many as possible to Afghanistan, or should deployment be limited to smaller, more specialized units that can act as support for the sections of Afghan National Army, which should be handling the bulk of the work anyway?

--Nedward Thorne

Ned, good question and let me to respond to it a piece at a time. First of all, let's not forget the main reason we entered Afghanistan in the first place -- to capture Osama bin Laden. So whatever the military decisions in the years to come, we must get our eye back on that ball. We took it off when we went to war in Iraq. Capturing bin Laden, followed by a refined policy towards the Middle East would go a long way towards restoring our credibility as a nation of laws and justice. I'm not certain what military policies would best accomplish this -- we don't even know if he's still in Afghanistan. To my uneducated eye, it does seem the strongest tact would be to draw down all combat troops and increase a presence of both support squads and of smaller, focused groups of troops meant to hunt bin Laden. A draw down of combat troops would not only encourage the Afghan forces to take more responsibility but express a certain amount of trust with the people. Our presence in the Middle East has always been the single most damning piece of evidence used by extremist regimes to build a case against the United States. We must be in the region, there's no doubt. If we hope to lead the planet, we need to act in that area of the world and repair the damage we've done. That requires being present and accounted for. But we will probably win more friends and defeat more wicked assertions if show a tough diplomatic face, backed by an authentic diplomatic presence (with proper security) than if we show the false bravado of heavy weaponry and a limited understanding of the needs and fears of the region.

In other words, I don't know.

That's all for today, but check back later this month for more viewer mail!

--Brennan

We Shall Overcome

2008-11-08T10:59:00.000-08:00

Stop and appreciate the magnitude of this moment. I know what you're thinking -- he's the President, it's pretty easy for him to lead a country. And he's also Lyndon Johnson -- if anyone could have rammed legislation through, it's LBJ. And ultimately, it was an act whose time had come.

But as we too often see, our leaders will stand in the way of history. Too often, we stand in the way, as we can see in California.

But hey, eventually history and the proper stewards cross paths. And we do overcome our limitations.

Another note on my grandfather...

2008-11-08T09:37:00.001-08:00

...he was three things: A Phillies Fan, a Democrat and a civil rights supporter.

He'd have LOVED the past two months.

I often hear a story form my mom about my grandfather's days as a pain salesman. He had that job for about 40 years. He was frequently up in New York, selling to a place called Katz Brothers up on 125th. I think the building's still standing. There was a young black man who worked at Katz who apparently thought my grandfather was just AWESOME. This was a young guy, a teenager. And one day he invited my grandfather to his parents' house for dinner. Pop said yes. It was apparently a great meal, and the family was very warm and welcoming. I'd imagine for a salesman, a warm meal with friendly faces is a pretty good deal.

It's not a particularly interesting story, but I've always loved it. At a time where black men and white men were, even in the north, not equal, I'd imagine there were some folks who took notice that my grandfather went over for dinner. This was like -- 1950. Sure it was New York, but it was still 1950. Also, these are the kinds of stories that tend to end in some sort of heartbreak. In novels or memoirs, this is the point where we'd be subjected to some awful cliche-filled sequence of racism, degradation and life-scarring hurt. I guess I don't come from a very dramatic background. This is just the kind of guy my grandfather was -- one of the good guys. He and my grandmother were just often on the right side of an argument or behavior. When a West Indian family moved into the house next door, the neighborhood was in an uproar -- and mind you, this is Cape May, New Jersey, in the 90s, not Selma, Alabama -- and while everyone else was terrified or complaining about the "property value," my grandmother was the first to knock on their door with a welcoming meal. My grandfather was probably too busy yelling at the neighbors who were up in arms.

I've said this a thousand times -- I probably seem like a jerk and verbose for it -- but on Tuesday night when Obama's daughter and Biden's grand daughter stood next to each other on that stage -- damn, man, Dr. King's dream came true. I know I sound like a jerk for harping on this -- but my grandfather would have been saying this over and over again to his neighbors. And since he can't, well, I'll handle it from here.

THIS DAY IN LIVEJOURNAL HISTORY!

2008-11-08T09:16:00.000-08:00

Yes, let's take a look back at a simpler time. The year! 2001. The place! Drexel University. Philadelphia, Pa. The day! One of sadness. For you see, November 7th, 2001, my grandfather died. Frank Coyle, one of the good guys, as my dad said at the eulogy. I remember the night before I was working on Tom Dunn and Dave Casey's film and video project. I played the normal guy serial killer, while Mike Kopena played a Victorian Serial Killer (top hat, trench coat) as we tried to outwit one another to kill a girl in the quad (played by Ellie Pyle). I remember that day for a number of reasons -- when Dave, Ellie and Mike came to get me from my dorm, the phone call from the front desk went as follows.

"Hello, is this Tom Brennan?"

"Yeah."

"There's some...ummm...people here to see you."

That kinda set the tone for four years. Anyway, after a cold night where I realized I didn't have the ability to act, I headed back to the dorm to a phone message from my father. He asked me to call him back. So I did. Cuz that's what I do when dad asks me to call him. And he tells me that earlier that day, my grandfather had died.

I cried a lot that night. I was a bit worried -- I'd just moved into the dorm and I didn't want a group of guys I didn't know to hear me crying. Fortunately my roommate went home that night. Eventually, I received a phone call at about 12:30 AM from Christophe -- which happened a lot that year. And so goes today's DAY IN LIVEJOURNAL HISTORY!

>>Beginning of Phone Convo with Stophe

TOM: My grandfather died today.
STOPHE: I am so sorry man.

End of Convo

STOPHE: Let's dress up like black teletubbies and go get the Klan with baseball bats!<<

Yes, another snapshot in time and a tale of a life and friendship that endured. I've always found it interesting timing that I really started making friends at high school and college about the same time that my grandparents passed away. I'm not sure if it's cosmic symmetry or -- whatever, but there was for me some meaning. But then again, I'm often accused of finding meaning in everything, even when it's not there.

The meaning behind my tears for my grandfather was something else, too. I was happy for him. His mind had been fading for about two years and his wife had died a year and a half before. He went home. And with that part of my life behind me, it was time for me to step forward. I think that phone conversation shows the forward momentum.

Ohhhhh it was momentum-filled.

That said...

2008-11-05T00:36:00.000-08:00

...I do hope Saxby Chambliss wins. Longtime readers know why.

I voted for Obama because of his race

2008-11-05T00:01:00.000-08:00

And I'll tell you why that's okay.

All of my life I've lived in a diverse neighborhood. I've voted in almost every election since I've been old enough to vote. I've never seen as many young black men show up to vote as I did today. I've never seen as many as I did at some of the polling places in Philadelphia, where I've worked for the past two months on weekends, canvassing and campaigning for the ticket. And I want those young men to be out voting for years to come. If Obama is an awful President, I hope they lead the way in voting him out.

Let's face it -- for a lot of us, we've now had this country confirmed as the place we always thought it could be. But first, let me say a quick word on those who didn't vote for Senator Obama. I can think of a few friends of mine -- Republicans all -- who voted for John McCain for the right reasons. I spoke to my friends Chris Morales and Mike Troxell today -- and I know why they voted for McCain. And while I don't agree with them per se -- I know where they're coming from and it's the right place to vote from. It's about the issues.

But for me I'll concede it was about more than the issues -- though I do think it's time we invest in our country's future and that's going to take money, time and a concerned effort from our government. But really -- race had a ton to do with it. We had a qualified Black man who I shared views with, and I wanted to see that change the way our country votes.

I spent weekends in Pennsylvania trying to get out the vote. Why? Not just because it was a swing state and near by, but because I know my grandparents -- Frank and Agnes Coyle -- would have been out on the streets for Obama/Biden if they were alive and I wasn't about to let the Republicans take Philly from them. And while I should simply appreciate the win -- I can't help but feel inclined to address my anger at the opinions of those who seem to think less of me personally for the way I voted today. Again -- Chris, Mike -- along with Dani and Natalie, this is *not* meant for you. But for the sentiment that says we're stupid for how we voted -- well, I object to that. Greatly.

I voted the way I did today not just because of my principled opinions on the issues but because -- deal with it -- we're now, for a fact, the country we've always believed we can be. We are the place we wanted to believe was called America. We can now say with a straight face that we all have a fair shot to grow up and become President of the United States. This is no longer an idea -- this is a fact. As we watched the Obamas and the Bidens together on stage tonight -- we saw Dr. King's dream come true. I saw two groups -- blacks and Irish Catholics -- that 100 years ago were a joke in this country stand as the future leaders. And yeah as an Irish Catholic, I felt moved to see someone of my background take that stage as the next Vice President.

We live in the country we always believed in. I live in the country I always imagined.

Here's a thing I wasn't sure I'd be comfortable discussing on this blog -- but I'm a bisexual. Not the "college girl who gets drunk and suddenly thinks they might like someone" bisexual -- the real deal. I know who I am and I'm comfy with it. But I also want to be in public policy in some capacity someday. And this side of my life has scared me -- that it'd be an impediment from being a part of leadership. I'm now content to know that this country will accept people who are different. I know it now.

Your opinions policy wise are valid. And dissenting opinions aren't just acceptable -- fuck, they're probably right in some cases. But you've gotta be kidding me if you aren't proud of your country right now on some level. We've proven the critics wrong. We are the place we claim to be.

We are the country we've always believed we could and should be. We are America.

Don't BLOW IT!

2008-11-03T20:44:00.000-08:00

Remember folks, if you can't find your polling place, go to voteforchange.com. Bring some ID with you just in case and while it shouldn't be illegal, don't wear any Obama pins or shirts to the polls to avoid any trouble. In New York? 6 AM to 9 PM. In Pennsylvania? 7 AM to 8 PM. Check your newspapers otherwise.

Get out and VOTE!

Bonus...

2008-11-03T20:40:00.000-08:00

Here's Sweedums beating up on a woman:

Nothing quite sums up this election season like...

2008-11-03T20:35:00.000-08:00

Yes, my friends, this is the way I want my pre-election optimism to take it's final stand. You see, whenever life gets too rough, I hang by my man Sweedums and my boy Robin the Frog. And why not? This is the way we go on out.

Look...

2008-11-03T20:23:00.000-08:00

...I'm too preoccupied. Just vote, you assholes. Okay? That's all I got.

THE SECRET HISTORY OF BARACK OBAMA

2008-11-02T21:44:00.000-08:00

Barack Hussein Obama, Mark 2.0, was created in 1998 by Osama bin Laden and Saddam Hussein after the original model (Barack Hooosane Obama, Mark 1.0) abandoned his mission and starred in the films Men In Black and Independence Day. He is programmed to repeat the phrases "Hope," "Change," "Chope" and "Hange" continuously, lulling all Americans into a state of deluded faith in a leader. Unless brave souls are willing to hold every little thing against him and insult his followers for believing again, nothing will stop this terrorist from executing his true protocols on January 20th, 2009, regardless of the outcome of the election. Resistance is futile. Convert to his change method or face elimination.

END TRANSMISSION.

Very tired but in to fill a quota...

2008-11-02T21:18:00.000-08:00

It's -- a snooty MySpace Profile quiz! Look, I've been out canvassing all day. I'm exhausted and my mind is fried. But here we are. Plus this a pretty solid way to reintroduce new readers.

What is your first and middle name?
Thomas Coyle

What's the last pill that you took ?
Vitamin C son!

Last person you watched a movie with and where?
Watched Man of the Year with my dad at the parents' apartment.

Did you make a best friend in high school?
Oh yes. I can think of at least five people from High School I'll never wonder about and who will be with me for life. It's very reassuring.

You're currently listening to?
Futurama. Lobster Jesus, yo.

Who are you expecting a call from?
Post or Stophe Jam?

Do you have any homework to do?
Trying to wrap my mind around a book that must leave house next week.

Are you happy with your life right now?
I'm starting to get a feeling for who I want to be. I'm starting to drop my fears -- to act in spite of them. It's refreshing. We'll see if it lasts. Stay tuned.

How many texts are in your inbox?
42.

Who was the last person you talked on the phone with?
Frank Shlupp. He's my hero.

When was the last time you smiled?
Lobster Jesus helps those who help themselves, that's when!

Who was the first person you talked to today?
J-Treuting

What are you NOT looking forward to?
Work tomorrow.

Do you plan on moving out of your parents house next year?
Yes. Ohhhh yes.

Are you a forgiving person?
I try to be. But I'm trying to not be so at the expense of my own feelings. You should always forgive, but you should always do so when you're ready to.

How late did you stay up last night and why?
1 AM. I actually did fairly little as opposed to the night before. I was just typing this thing. On this blog. Somewhere.

If you could move somewhere else, would you?
Yeah. Yeah I would.

When was the last time you cried really, really hard?
Last year. It was tough.

Have you ever dated a soccer player?
Sure. Wait, no.

What were you doing at 7:00 AM?
Heading to Penn Station for to canvas.

Have you told anybody you loved them today?
Haven't had that pleasure, no.

Do you have plans for tomorrow?
Work, Laundry, doom. In that order.

Who was the last person in your bedroom?
Me. And how!

Which Shampoo is in your bathroom right now?
Oh nothing special or out of the ordinary. Dove Shampoo and Conditioner in one.

What movie is in your DVD player?
John Adams, Episode 2

Last two numbers in your phone number?
03

Do you ever think about the price of gasoline?
Don't own a car so no, not too much.

Do you sleep with a fan on?
Nope, but the window is frequently open regardless of season.

What is the best thing about winter?
Ever been in New York after Snowfall? Time stops.

Are you currently planning a trip?
Philadelphia, Ward 58, November 4th.

Whats on your mind right now?
Friday night.

Who was the last person you were in a car with?
Jen, Frank and Sarah.

Is there someone on your mind that shouldn't be?
I object!

Did you have a good day?
Tough but good.

Do you think you're approachable?
I like to think so. I'm kind of shy but I try to give people a shot and I think people can tell that. Still, quieter you are the more people think you're a snob, so I try to be careful.

What will you admit here and only here?
I still believe in Harvey Dent.

What did I do for Halloween?

2008-11-02T20:55:00.000-08:00

That's what. I think I look good.

On The Campaign Trail

2008-11-02T20:34:00.000-08:00

So we're out on the trail today for Obama/Biden and things went pretty well. Mainly the GOTV effort right now. But we're heading down the block and one guy pops out of his house -- it has a McCain/Palin sign in the lawn and is not on our list. He sees us and yells:

"You here for Obama?"

"Yessir."

"Well don't you dare come near my house."

"Don't worry, you're not on our list."

"Well I don't wanna be. Get out of this neighborhood. You're not wanted here. Get out! Get out now!"

So we ignore the guy and stay at work.

But I was reminded of an event few weeks ago; I'm on the street in Midtown Manhattan and I see a couple "New Yorkers for McCain" marching around. People are giving them the hairy eyeball but no one is actively confronting them. So I run across the street and stick out my hand.

"Guys, I'm not gonna vote for your guy. But I've had to campaign in some unfriendly turf -- don't let 'em push you around. Keep at it."

They smiled, nodded, gave a quick thanks and we moved along. I'm sure it's true that people on the left can be as nasty as people on the right. I've seen it. But to my friends on the left who I'm sure have felt compelled to fight from time to time -- we don't win by sinking to their level. Nothing quite effects change like giving folks what they don't expect.

Like a handshake and a smile.

Heroes

2008-11-01T22:03:00.000-07:00

Who are your heroes?

In any respect, who do you consider a hero? I think the hardest part of life at this age is discerning who your heroes are, because they have enough time left to really let you down. I think of people I've looked up to over the years and as I've gotten closer to their ages, I've seen them closer up. It's sort of like when you see an old guy's face on HDTV -- you know, it's really high definition picks up all the flaws? That's how I feel with some of these folks nowadays. And even those I don't necessarily have a problem with -- I can't help but feel other people are out to tear them down thanks to my respect.

The problem with flaws is that they tend to be the result of a moment -- a solitary snapshot in time. On the one hand, you shouldn't be defined by one single moment but rather the sum of your moments. On the other hand, all snapshots last forever. Those moments are the ones that burn into your memory. I've kept this thought in mind during my trips to canvas Philadelphia for the Obama campaign. A person at their at this moment at their door is not the all of that person -- you could catch a great guy on a really rough day. You could catch a horrible woman having a very generous moment. Try to temper your emotions and your expectations -- and remember that people are, for lack of a better word, just that.

But people can and should be heroes to us. If shortcomings or flaws prevent one from being a true hero, then there will never be heroes. And we need them now more than ever.

Who are my heroes? People that get up every day and keep at it. Whatever "it" may be -- the folks that really dedicate themselves to the good they can do. Even if that good is simply waking up in the morning, which, let's face it, can sometimes be the bravest thing we can ever do.

Who are your heroes?

Do Vote!

2008-11-01T10:04:00.000-07:00

Yes, you should vote. Why? Because this thing above me here? It took the kind of work we can't imagine to pull off. And we owe it to them to vote. Don't like who's running? I mean -- really dislike them? Fine, go and cast a blank ballot. Let them know this country is too important to you and these freedoms are too important to you to let them get away without knowing you were there and they still didn't cut it. I mean -- imagine if a whole district cast blank ballots? It'd be huge. 8 years ago John Ashcroft lost to a dead man. Don't tell me we can't make a difference by voting. Don't tell me we can't change the world by voting.

We already have.

Don't Vote!

2008-11-01T09:12:00.001-07:00

To begin -- did ya know there's an election going on? Yes, it's that every-four-year dance where we decide who's going to be in charge and then promptly hate everything that person does with the country. Anyone who has read this blog knows that I'm in the Obama-Biden camp. But whoever you vote for on Tuesday -- just vote.

Wait -- don't. I hate this part of an election cycle. Y'know, the part where everyone says "no matter who you vote for, just vote" or "if you don't vote, you can't complain." I can complain. I can complain a ton. Nothing's gonna stop me from complaining, especially some phony baloney election. Me not getting my ass out of bed early to go vote on state comptroller or public advocate isn't going to stop me from complaining. The great failing of our modern interpretations of elections is that not voting has become a sign of apathy, not of protest. Do none of the geniuses in the media ever stop and think "wow -- the people don't think either of these candidates is worth their time or attention?" No, they just blanket apathy and irresponsibility on an electorate that feels increasingly put off by the election process. And they feel that way rightly so. Ultimately it all comes down to pandering to white, working class Americans in the middle states. The rest of our opinions don't count for anything. Let us all remember the drubbing big cities took in this year's Republican National Convention, as I was reminded that despite being born here, growing up here, being a citizen here and probably knowing more about it's history than some asshole in Ohio, I am apparently not an American. I'm a big city guy. In a country run by people so intent on dividing us, why should we want to vote? Why should we want to support them?

So no, you shouldn't "just vote." You should be engaged. Read up on these candidates. Believe me, there's enough to read about them. Study them, question them, research them. And no, I'm not talking about their religious beliefs or the lives of guys they used to work with. I'm talking positions on the issues of the day and especially the issues most important to you.

What's so sad about how divided this campaign has become is that for a change, the two presidential candidates are (by all accounts) two of the better people to run for this office. Two purely American stories and yeah, two people who represent different sides of this country. Unfortunately, Senator McCain (in my opinion) sacrificed everything that made himself great in terms of shaping the public debate. Yes, Obama has spent a ton of money on negative ads. But they've stayed on the issues. As Mr. Adams said, a man of honesty should never have to compromise his beliefs. And it's painful to see McCain take this tact. We shouldn't be commanded to decide between the lesser of two evils.

So read up on these guys. There's still a few days left. Be sure the team you're backing will stand up for your priorities. Even if they don't stand specifically for the issues you support, will hey set the kind of tone you want in a country? Will they represent you and me and the rest of us, big city, small town, shitty strip mall -- will they represent us to the best of their abilities? Will they project the image and set the policy of the kind of country we want to be? Will they invest in our future? Will they strive to do the right thing?

We'll find out on Wednesday. But you're a part of this decision. Don't make it lightly.

This Blog vs. NaBloPoMo -- TAKE TWO!

2008-11-01T08:36:00.000-07:00

That's right, friend and foe alike. It was almost one year ago today that this very blog and the forces over at NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) went to war. I say "almost" because they went out of their way to not invite me to participate. Sure, some people said "but Tom, it was publicly posted. They don't have a responsibility to tell you about their events." I still counter "shut up."

And so I destroyed NaBloPoMo. They believe in one post a day for 30 days. I did 60. And in my triumphant victory, I offered them an Olive Branch: "Surrender entirely and I will not embarrass you again next year" I said. Sure, I didn't say it to anyone in particular. Or at all. But still, they're out there, executing their race yet again this year. So I'm taking it to them. And I'm taking to them big time. How? Simple.

One

Hundred

and

Twenty

Blog

Posts.

In a month. They think they can go on unchallenged? They think think they can spit in the eye of everything this blog (non)accomplished last year? Well it's on, Blogmerica. The people need a leader, the Blogstablishment needs a challenger and Tom Brennan needs an excuse to write in this po-dunk little blog again. But mainly, NaBloPoMo -- STILL so named because you Blo Po'Mo -- you wanted a fight last year? Well you got one. This year you want a war? You're about to learn what pain means. And you're gonna learn it on the blogosphere equivalent of the DANCE FLOOR.

The fight begins!

What if he's a Muslim?

2008-10-19T14:50:00.000-07:00

This is the picture Colin Powell spoke about in his interview below.

2008-10-19T13:19:00.000-07:00

2008-10-19T08:37:00.000-07:00

Ah, the Simpsons...

2008-10-02T05:38:00.000-07:00

Teehee.

So tonight is the big VP debate and I'm here to offer my prediction: it's going to be boring as sin. Seriously, with this kind of build up, it can't not be. Two charismatic people who are good at this kind of thing and who are also hilariously prone to gaffes -- they're going to overprepare, under answer, ignore one another and go after the top of the ticket, and America will tune out by minute 27. No, Gwen Ifill's book about Obama will not bias her. (Shit, it's not even a pro-Obama book. Read the description.) No, Joe Biden won't scream out the c-word in the middle of an exchange. And no, Sarah Palin won't continue to look like the moron she's looked like during these Katie Couric interviews (by the way, friends at CBS, how long were Katie and Sarah together for? You guys have 82 hours of footage. I hope there's a love scene in there. But seriously, Karl Rove never would have let Katie out of the interview alive after these stumbles.)

So that's my prediction -- dull, long and uneventful. Just enough so that both sides can claim victory. But man, I hope I'm wrong.

Why check out Voteforchange.com?

2008-09-28T00:00:00.000-07:00

That's why. Register, fools.

"We're gonna Frickin' Lose This Thing!" or "Why Dems should STFU and chill out"

2008-09-14T13:01:00.000-07:00

This past week on the Huffington Post, Adam McKay had an adorable post about how the Democrats were doomed in the Presidential election this year. Why? Because McCain was ahead in the polls by four points.

To you who fear the McCain/Palin administration, I simply say: "chill the fuck out and get back to work."

I'm pinpointing McKay's article because it's a perfect an example of the knee-jerk reaction every Democrat, liberal and anti-McCain-ite person I know's attitude at the top of this week: "McCain is up by four with 2 months to go. It's all over."

Consider this: We're coming off a week where the Republicans did really well. They had a four night infomercial, the press overreached their boundaries with some of Governor Palin's personal life and basically -- all eyes were on them. So they bumped up four points. Newsflash, that's what happens after a convention. We were up 8 points after our convention. Four years ago, Bush was up tremendously against Kerry. He broke 50 percent and took a decisive lead that he never really lost. John McCain, on the other hand, has seen his lead dwindle across this week to a one point lead. Obama and Biden have come out swinging against the slanderous accusations of the McCain campaign, including the Rovian tact they took against his vote in support of measures to help children protect themselves against child molesters.

No, we shouldn't be resting on our laurels. Yes, there is more work to do. But anyone who thought this was going to be a blow out for Obama was fooling themselves. You've got a respected war hero and a down-to-earth mom against a liberal black man. IN AMERICA. I'm shocked he's this close.

And all due respect to Adam McKay, but his thoughts that Obama's attack on McCain's lobbyist ties won't work, or as he so eloquently put it, "Four corporations own all the TV channels. All of them. If they don't get ratings they get canceled or fired. All news is about sex, blame and anger, and fear. Exposing lies about amounts of money taken from lobbyists and votes cast for the agenda of the last eight years does not rate. The end."

Well, actually -- it's what put a shit ton of Republican congressmen and senators out of work in 2006.

Further more, his assertion in his advice to the ticket that they should "We give definitive clear speeches like Biden and Obama gave the other day about how no one talked about any issues at the Republican Convention and how they outright lied. But we do them over and over again." is nice and all but really unnecessary because, well, that's what they're doing. The reason we don't see it is because we're all too busy in our already-decided-blue states. They're on the campaign trail doing just that. I don't mean to be too hard on Mr. McKay -- as much as I doubt the credibility of the political opinions of the director of Anchor Man, I must concede I'm also an unqualified opinion. But I am fed up with the revisionist history of Democrats in this country. The kind that (A) imply that Gore and Kerry ran tough, dignified campaigns but were undone by a corrupt media, and the kind that (B) also imply those two men lost handily.

In the case of (A) No, they didn't run tough campaigns. They ran safe campaigns. When called on their mistakes, they back peddled and looked cowardly. And they allowed attacks on their character to linger on unanswered. They also stuck to a rigid math that said "Win these three states and the rest will follow." They didn't compete, they simply hoped the other side's failings would be their undoing. Obama and Biden are competing. They are standing up for themselves. And they're calling out the other side on their failings and undoings.

In the case of (B) well, in spite of their combined ineptitude, Kerry and Gore came pretty damn close to winning. This was no Mondale wipe out. Kerry was a few thousand votes in Ohio away from the Presidency, and Gore's close loss is well documented. Inspite of their best efforts to lose, Kerry and Gore came really close to winning. Look at the state by state polls in 2004 -- a ton of them were dirt close. What does that imply? That there is a sizeable population in this country that wants a change from the Republicans. They just never saw any other options in '04 and '00. This time around we've got as distinct a difference as possible.

Does this mean I think we're going to win in a landslide? No. I'm not even 100 percent certain we'll win. But I'm proud as hell to see a ticket that's going to fight this one to the last vote. The fascinating side of this race is that it's come down to two men who have consistently beat the odds in this campaign. So anyone who tells you they know what's going to happen are completely wrong. The polls? According to Zogby, we should be in the last year of President Kerry's first term. They also said McCain couldn't even get the nomination, they said the same thing about Obama. They said Obama would flatten Hillary in New Hampshire, and instead he just lost by one point. The pundits? Talk about flip flopping, they were all certain it'd be Hillary vs. Romney or Edwards vs. Giuliani.

(interesting thought I had on John Edwards yesterday: you want to know which candidate in '08 was mainly successful thanks to race or gender? John Edwards. I can't count the number of people I knew who supported him for reasons that, once broken down, basically said 'he's a white man from the south! he'll have to win!' This guy was a non entity in the last two months of the '04 campaign and suddenly we all were to pin our hopes on him? Sheesh, he's a 2 time loser.)

But this is the attack run. This is the end of the line, and it's pretty much expected for people to flip out every little shift of the polls (and they will shift, oh yes). So to the Adam McKay's of this world, I politely say: I admire your devotion, but seriously...chill the fuck out, nut-up, shut up and get back to work.

Cause if we do that, well, we're gonna frickin' win this thing.

Okay: Non-partisan video time. Enjoy!

2008-09-11T17:54:00.000-07:00

Yup, he's right.

Another Ad

2008-09-08T20:08:00.001-07:00

Spread the word!

2008-09-07T13:41:00.001-07:00

If you've got a blog and you care, grab the embed code off this and spread the word.

So...

2008-09-03T19:51:00.000-07:00

But one question, Sarah Palin: Martin Luther King, Jr. was a community organizer. Was he responsible for anything? By your logic, no.

Look, I'm quite upfront at the bias in this blog. I'm pro-Democrat. But I'd be this mad if the Dems said this (and I was when it came up during the primaries). Community organizers are as crucial a cog as it comes. When government forgets about it's people (as they do), these are smart, dedicated people who, for no money (certainly less than a Mayor, Senator or Governor), stand up and get the community together. I've been parts of these groups. They provide unity, leadership and hope for the people who follow it. I know that in America being in a city means you don't count for anything. Apparently we just shit on maps of the U.S. every chance we get.

You want to see the problems and struggles of this country? We got 'em in the city. You want to see people who stand up for their communities and the rights of our country and Constitution? We've got 'em. If you want to see America? We've got it.

And just now, Governor Palin said that Barack Obama wants to read terrorists their rights, as if that's a bad thing. We're a country of laws, not men, Ms. Palin. And it is that respect for the law -- for equality of anyone, regardless of who they are or where they came from, that makes us a great country.

This is a disgusting speech to sit through. Why won't I be a Republican in my lifetime? Their obsession with marginalizing cities and laws.

What do right wing pundits think of Sarah Palin?

2008-09-03T17:45:00.000-07:00

Chuck Todd! NBC News Political Director. Peggy Noonan! Former Reagan speech writer and commentator for the Wall Street Journal. Mike Murphy! Former advisor to the McCain 2000 campaign. Here they are on Sarah Palin after they go off the air. Transcript below.

Chuck Todd: Mike Murphy, lots of free advice, we'll see if Steve Schmidt and the boys were watching. We'll find out on your blackberry. Tonight voters will get their chance to hear from Sarah Palin and she will get the chance to show voters she's the right woman for the job Up next, one man who's already convinced and he'll us why Gov. Jon Huntsman. (cut away)
Peggy Noonan: Yeah.
Mike Murphy: You know, because I come out of the blue swing state governor world: Engler, Whitman, Tommy Thompson, Mitt Romney, Jeb Bush. I mean, these guys -- this is how you win a Texas race, just run it up. And it's not gonna work. And --
PN: It's over.
MM: Still McCain can give a version of the Lieberman speech to do himself some good.
CT: I also think the Palin pick is insulting to Kay Bailey Hutchinson, too.
PN: Saw Kay this morning.
CT: Yeah, she's never looked comfortable about this --
MM: They're all bummed out.
CT: Yeah, I mean is she really the most qualified woman they could have turned to?
PN: The most qualified? No! I think they went for this -- excuse me-- political bullshit about narratives --
CT: Yeah they went to a narrative.
MM: I totally agree.
PN: Every time the Republicans do that, because that's not where they live and it's not what they're good at, they blow it.
MM: You know what's really the worst thing about it? The greatness of McCain is no cynicism, and this is cynical.
CT: This is cynical, and as you called it, gimmicky.
MM: Yeah.

Brian Schweitzer kicking ass on energy at the 2008 DNC

2008-09-02T21:28:00.000-07:00

Ever since I figured out how embedded video works, updating my blog has become waaaay easier. Below is Governor Brian Schweitzer of Montana at last week's DNC. You probably didn't see it as a ton of the networks opted not to play it, instead bemoaning the lack of aggressive speeches. Below is...well...awesome.

Also:

2008-09-01T21:10:00.001-07:00

This made me laugh. So did this:

Old, Grizzled Third Party Candidate May Steal Support From McCain

One quick point on Sarah Palin's daughter and families in politics

2008-09-01T20:58:00.000-07:00

"I have said before and I will repeat again: People's families are off limits...And people's children are especially off-limits. This shouldn't be part of our politics. It has no relevance to Gov. Palin's performance as a governor or her potential performance as a vice president. So I would strongly urge people to back off these kinds of stories. You know my mother had me when she was 18 and how a family deals with issues and teenage children, that shouldn’t be a topic of our politics."

That's Barack Obama today, in response to the revelation that Sarah Palin's teenage daughter is pregnant. And he's absolutely right. And it should be noted that Republicans, not Democrats, have lead the charge against family in this campaign so far. They're the ones who released ads attacking Michele Obama. EDITORIAL NOTE: I was incorrect. John McCain didn't call Chelsea Clinton the White House dog, he referred to her as the lesbian love child of Janet Reno and Hillary Clinton. Because he's a sexist and a hypocrite.

But then tonight on Larry King, some moron Republican congresswoman who's name I don't know made the following point (I'm paraphrasing), that this event showed their pro life values, and that they can make use of this in the fall campaign.

You know -- Bristol Palin made the right choice in having her baby -- because it's her choice. And despite what John McCain and Sarah Palin believe, it should always be Bristol Palin's choice or the choice of any pregnant woman in this country, not the government. She should always have the choice to decide on what she does with her baby. It should never be government's business.

Couldn't say it better myself...

2008-08-31T09:52:00.001-07:00

Spread the word!

In case you missed it...

2008-08-30T10:36:00.000-07:00

Enjoy! Also, this is hillarious:

Portrayal Of Obama As Elitist Hailed As Step Forward For African Americans

De-FENSE!

2008-08-23T13:05:00.000-07:00

I'll tell you what I love about liberal bloggers and Democrats -- they're all really scared about when Republicans go on the attack.

"But the Republicans are gonna smear him."

"They'll dig stuff up. They'll come after him."

"He's gonna have to defend against attacks."

...yeah. That's competition. That's the point. When did Americans in general get so afraid of a fight? Imagine if on day one of the NBA Finals, the Boston Celtics had walked into Head Coach Doc Rivers' office and said, "Boss...we might wanna consider going home. They're gonna try to score on us."

Competition is about fighting. Competition means playing defense sometimes. Heck, effective defense is what wins. Look at the Boston Celtics. Maybe the DNC should hire Tom Thibodeau. But here's the facts: "oh, but they'll come after him!" Yeah. They know that. And they fight back.

http://my.barackobama.com/page/content/fightthesmearshome

Pretty damn good way to defend to me. But to the liberal blogstablishment, it's not enough. It never is. I'm not sure what will be. It's like they're ashamed that the candidates haven't figured out a way to ensure no one ever levels an attack. Since when is getting attacked a bad thing? It means you're a challenge to them. You rise to that challenge by deflecting their attacks and showing why you're a better candidate. Sure, shots must be taken. Obama's made a wise choice in a running mate because he's brought in a guy who can take those shots. But after those shots, there must be substance. It can't just be "he sucks, I'm better." It has to be "I'm the right choice, can't you see how he's wrong?" If it simply devolves into a fist fight, then no one's going to care. It will be seen as childish, petulant and indicative of the problems that have spawned the rabid apathy amongst Americans, particularly in younger voters. (Can someone be rabid and apathetic?) Defense wins championships. Offense is, of course, a tool which helps victory. And yes, it's a street fight, an election like this can be as brutal as a street fight. But you don't win by taking the most shots -- you win it by taking the smart shots. And it requires patience and a steel back bone to discern the right shots from the wrong ones.

Also, this:

http://www.cnn.com/2008/LIVING/wayoflife/08/22/mf.campaign.slurs.slogans/index.html

Obama, Biden and the beauty of media manipulation

2008-08-23T10:52:00.000-07:00

This morning's choice of Joe Biden as Barack Obama's running mate (oh, I was awake at 3 AM for it) was a fascinating exercise in controlling the debate.

Think about it: Thursday morning, headline news had Obama down in the polls. (Off note, where's the questioning in the media about their polling process? Who under 30 has a land line? What about poorer people? Particularly black people? And aren't a lot of people who work a ton of jobs perhaps -- I don't know -- not home to take the call? Questions questions).

Then the campaign announces they're going to announce the running mate. And all the headlines shift to that. And as I got annoyed waiting for the text to get sent, I wondered why they would keep it under wraps. And then I realized they've held the spotlight for three days. They've got the front page news going into the convention. And then next week will be all about the Democrats. After a week out of the spotlight and then a couple days taking some tough shots, Obama now controls the news cycle through at least Friday. That's a lot of time to set a tone.

Also worth noting, McCain's message has been Obama centric. So has Obama's. What did we learn in 2004? You can't run a campaign about the other guy and expect to win.

More later...

Letter From a New York City Juror's holding room

2008-08-19T13:12:00.000-07:00

Dear Defendants in the New York State Supreme Court,

Plead guilty. Trust me, it's the way to go. As I sit here in the Jury room at 100 Centre Street, I'm struck by how slow and heartless justice can be.
In this room, somewhere in the realm of 60 or so angry men and women want to go home. They are cold hearted, bored and just itching for a fight.
They're probably going to find you guilty. Unless, of course, they dislike the prosecutor even more. Then you've got a fighting chance.

But no, I'm not telling you to plead guilty because we're biased. That's unfair and untrue to our system. No, I think you should plead guilty because of a simple numbers game. Look at your options: Plead guilty and there is a 100 % chance you'll go to Jail. Plead not guilty and it's 50-50.

Add that up and you've got a 150% chance of being found guilty against a 50% chance of not guilty. I'm no odds-maker or mathematician, but I certainly don't like those odds. Or that math.

Speaking of odds, odds are even if you're not guilty of this crime, you're guilty of something. Consider this karma. For every time you parked in a handicap spot, forgot to wash your hands after using the bathroom or punched a hot dog stand vendor in the jaw, you've had some comeuppance a-coming.

This is it. Jail. The ultimate comeuppance. Sure, you could fight it. You might even win. But what then? The cosmic order of the universe demands balance. If you don't go to jail, something worse could be in store. I don't even want to think about it.

So consider the guilt plea. You're probably guilty anyway, and you've got a 150% chance of hearing it. So why fight it? Besides, for all of Jail's terrible ills, you would be free of the day-to-day stress of the working world. Wouldn't have to worry about bills, rent, or food. It's already provided for you. And you'll have plenty of time to get another degree, fall in love, and write a book about the corrupt and ineffective American justice system.

The kind of book I could be reading on my way out the door after being dismissed from jury duty, if you hadn't so selfishly plead not guilty. But hey, there's still time. 5 to 10 years if you do the right thing.

Sincerely,
Thomas C. Brennan

John Edwards. What a dick.

2008-08-11T19:55:00.000-07:00

I'd just like to take a brief moment out of my busy schedule to talk about John Edwards.

I never particularly liked John Edwards. He always seemed incredibly phony to me. He had a smug smarminess about him that just made me wanna punch him in the face. But I never thought he was as big of a dick as he apparently is.

I have some good friends who really believed in the guy, and I did vote for him as Vice President in 2004. So as much as he wasn't my kind of guy, I was willing to believe I just was missing something vital. I'm incredibly disappointed to find out I was right about him.

One thing I despise when we discover a politician has had an affair is the apologists sentiment, "does that really effect how he governs?"

Yes, yes it does. And I'll even be fair: a married leader having an affair with another woman, particularly a woman of his age, bothers me less. It's a mistake married people make. But I'm much more offended when it's a case like Edwards, Spitzer or Clinton. It implies an obsession with power that goes beyond the levels of appropriate and beyond what should be humble service. And yes, when you seek to lead a country -- when you seek to be the person in whom people can trust their dreams, when you seek to be someone that people count on then you have a responsibility to do your very best to live up to the symbol that they associate you with. I won't pretend to know just what you should do. But I know what you shouldn't, and pissing on integrity the way John Edwards did in 2006 is a perfect example.

In most of my conversations since this scandal was uncovered, I've heard the following sentence "Would you rather have a president like Clinton who lied about a relationship or a president like Bush who lied about a war?" I'd rather have neither. I'd rather have a president like the first President Bush. Is he a perfect person? Not at all. But he had an idea of the responsibility required of him in the office of the presidency. It's not just a political responsibility, it's a personal responsibility. If you want to lead a public life, then your life is public. You owe it to one and all to strive to do the right thing.

And I've never been there. So yeah, I don't know what I'd do if I were in that position. Maybe one day when I make my run for office, I'll become corrupt and sleep with a woman who is apparently proud that she engages in extramarital affairs. But I sure hope I don't. I hope that I'm right -- that at the end of the day, some of us -- many of us -- are strong enough to face that decision and do the right thing. I hope we have more people who stand up for the right moral behaviors in public service and seek to restore that confidence in the public. And heck, I hope I'm one of them.

And if I'm not and I do screw around, I hope I'm smart enough to not make marital fidelity and moral honesty such a big part of my campaign message.

Jeez, what a dick.

Graduation Day

2008-06-11T19:27:00.000-07:00

Three years ago today, I graduated from college, and I can't even begin to figure out where the time went. Suffice to say, each year feels like a minute but it also feels like a lifetime. I don't recognize the face I see in my pictures from college. And I feel like despite my best efforts, I've lost contact with too many from that time.

I hate myself. I love myself. But really -- I've got one thing figured out: Graduation wasn't the end of anything. Nothing ever ends. You win today, you're back to zero tomorrow. And for everyone I feel I've lost, I've gained something new. Really...it's the memories and the moments, as I've said. There's only one person who's with you the whole way. Every night I can dream of those people that -- if I can once more rip off Thomas Jefferson -- "we have loved and lost and still love and shall never lose again."

I'm holding onto those memories. I'm holding onto hope -- the hope that I can make more memories like that. That I didn't pass the best of my life by. But it's hard.

I haven't come to terms with the past three years. I'm not sure I ever will. But I'm trying.

Obama/Biden 2008!

2008-05-26T21:44:00.000-07:00

As most of you know, I'm unabashedly a Democrat. Won't say liberal because I'm not always, but a Democrat through and through -- but an honest, non deluded one. Last night I saw the fantastic film "Recount" about the Florida Election, and can honestly say from that film that George W. Bush should be the President of the United States right now. Why? Because he had two things in Florida that the Democrats didn't have. (A) Organization and (B) Fighters. I think that's the big problem with the Democratic party -- usually we keep the fighters behind the curtain. Tons of the strategists are among the toughest guys you'll ever meet. But they never send out the tougher candidates. The people we believe in.

And now's our chance.

The Obama campaign just beat the Clintons. Beating the Clintons was, until this election, a political impossibility. And yet he succeeded where The entire Vast Right Wing Conspiracy failed -- he beat the Clintons. He can win this election. But he needs the right kind of toughness backing him up. And note I say the "right" kind of toughness. There has been a lot of talk of Jim Webb, Senator from Virginia as a running mate. But frankly that dude scares me -- don't get me wrong, he's a bad ass. But he also has that "I'd have won Vietnam is you'd give me two more days" mania in his eyes.

No, Obama needs Senator Joe Biden of Deleware. Biden is the older brother of the Democratic party. The kind of guy who came out during the school yard fights and challenged the bully to pick on someone hs own size. Joe Biden's the only Democrat who had the balls to call Rudy Giuliani for what he was -- a two-bit charlatan exploiting a national tragedy for his own personal gain. Biden's a fighter. When they questioned the Democrats credibility on crime prevention, he pointed to the Biden crimebill, one of the most comprehensive bills to fund and support law enforcement and empower law enforcement to defend Americans. They never took shots at him again. He stood up and crafted the Violence Against Women Act, doing something most white men don't normally do: acknowledging that the abuse against women in this country exists, that it is serious and that special precautions must be made to protect them. And unlike the other candidates, he admits that we can't just leave Iraq. We must work our way out.

He'd be the perfect partner for Barack Obama. He's a tough guy who can take a shot and give it back, but he does it with the dignity and respect that has ensured him support across the aisle. And in his words, you need more than 51% to solve problems. He'd be the kind of back-up Obama needs. Barack undercuts himself if he gets into the mudslinging but Obama knows how to make those shots. At this years Jefferson/Jackson dinner in Iowa, he was the strongest at calling out the Republicans for the frauds they are -- a group that touts values while showing no understanding of what values truly are.

Additionally, he appeals to the working class whites that Obama desperately needs. He's the poster by for working class Irish Catholics. Imagine that ticket...a black man and a product of working class blue collar families. The groups that combined to build this country united on the national stage. It would be a symbol of unity between two groups that are unnecessarily divided.

Finally, from a sheer political standpoint, it'd be a bold move. He wouldn't be picking one of his supporters nor would he be kowtowing to the will of the Clintons. instead he'd be picking a man who forcefully stated he'd remain neutral during the contest. A lot has been made in the media that Obama owes the Clintons the consideration of either her or one of her supporters as a running mate. Ultimately, Obama owes them nothing. But to the party that he is leading, it'd be an incredible sign of good faith to pick one of its stalwart members. A man who symbolizes the best of a fine organization that seems on the cusp of either reclaiming it's glory or utter demise.

It's gonna be an interesting few months politically. I certainly hope it ends with the right decisions being made.

Hey!

2008-05-13T17:26:00.001-07:00

Sorry about that.

A Little Dog.

2008-05-06T20:55:00.000-07:00

We've been over the fact that I'm not the world's biggest dog fan. It's not that they're evil...in fact, I don't really hate dogs. Dog owners, on the other hand...they frighten me. Not your standard farm or log cabin, country side dog owners. That's the appropriate world. In the cities, though, I feel they're given the same treatment as children. They're expected to be treated as equals.

And they're not.

I don't want a little thing licking my face, dog or child. But at least when a child kisses a parent, it's a positive part of their growth. A dog...it's just getting licked by something that occasionally eats its own feces. Which brings us to tonight.

I'm coming home and a guy in the neighborhood, with his two tiny dogs. They're being walked. One dog is clearly eating his own droppings. The owner grabs him, pulls him up to his hand and says "Don't you EVER do that again!"

...like the dog understands? Sure, he gets he did the wrong thing but...he's not learning anything. Fine, train the dog not to eat it. Great. But...they're dogs, man. They'll never understand that they've done anything wrong, or why.

The dog gets out of his hand and almost starts to follow me. I wonder what I'd do if he kept on following me. What would I do?

I'd take the dog. I'm allergic. I hate dogs. AND...it eats it's own droppings. But I'd take the dog because the problem isn't the dog, it's the guy who expects better from an animal. He's the human equivalent of that dog. But at least the dog can be trained to do better. This was a grown man thinking he can argue with a dog. And I'd find a kid and hand the dog to her. And I'd say, "take care of him. And look out...he eats poop."

And that kid? They'd know what to do. They're not far from the age when they learned how alluring it can be.

No Words...

2008-04-28T18:10:00.000-07:00

He Said She Said: Adventures in Love, part one

2008-04-28T16:12:00.000-07:00

It was the summer of '03 and I was saddled in Drexel University for summer classes. I remember dreading this summer and planning, like Ms. Pyle, to get out of having to be here -- of scheduling my classes so I could bolt for back home, my beloved home that I missed so much. As it turned out, life changed and I didn't want to leave. I'm pretty damn glad I didn't, in hindsight.

Philadelphia is one of my favorite cities. It's an interesting town an always evokes a passionate response form people. I've found people either love Philadelphia or hate it. Those that do hate it seem to hate it with a kind of insensitive nonchalance; they say "Philly? That's such a shitty town" with no real regard for the people who have lived and loved in the city. Although New York City is my home and the love of my life, metropolis wise, Philadelphia holds a special place in my heart for its authenticity. New York, for all its greatness, always feels like it's putting on an act -- don't misunderstand me, New York is nothing if not sincere. But anyone who lives here knows that it puts on appearances often, never entirely content to be itself. Although I suppose one could argue that the definition of New York's "self" is impossible to ascertain.

But Philadelphia is never anything but itself. It's not always clean, it's not always nice and it's not always inviting, but it is real. The four years I spent there are pretty reflective of that feeling. I really loved it, though, even if it served as some of the more challenging years of my life. It never felt fake, and I feel that brutal honesty made me a stronger person.

Summers in Philadelphia are extremely hot. I remember walking through Olde City and wondering how Jefferson and the rest managed to spend entire summers working in so hot a city with no modern benefit of air conditioning. But the heat was different from New York's heat. New York City's heat is, like the city itself, overwhelming. In the summer in New York, you usually get from one place to another and then stay inside until the skies provide shade. In Philadelphia it was no cooler, but something in my memory makes it seem much more bearable. . The city is often referred to as a gigantic small town, and summer in Philly really nails it home. There's more activity in the streets and public spaces. The city also lends itself easily to walking. I remember walking everywhere in the city in the summer time.

We had been dating for about 4 months at this point and she wanted me to take her out to dinner. We had been out many times but it never seemed planned in the past. It was much more spur of the moment. But when I saw her in the dorm hallway, she said, "Take me out!" in this mock-childish tone. It couldn't help but make me smile. It always made me smile. So we made plans to go out, to the Olive Garden.

I can already hear you snickering at me...I can imagine the sort of eye rolling and guffaws that "Olive Garden" elicits from people. And that's fine. But I'm gonna defend it, you culture snobs.

The arguments:

(A) "Olive Garden isn't real Italian Food" -- uh, okay, then what is? It sure is the actual food and actual chefs trained to make Italian food prepare it. Okay, so every platter isn't prepared and served by mustachioed lovers with an organ grinder and a dancing monkey who distracts you while he seduces your woman and steals her away on a gondola. I've been to plenty of Italian restaurants and yes, a lot of them are better than the Olive Garden. Most of them, really. But if the wait staff is the direct indication of how Italian an Italian restaurant is, then Italy must be in either South America or Stamford.

(B) "Olive Garden is low class" -- No, it just economically viable for lower classes. What's wrong with that? Remember, I'm telling you a story about a Sophomore/Junior in college. Money wasn't exactly dropping in my lap.

Frankly, I really dug going to Olive Garden for that very reason -- for all its chain restaurant realities, it conducted itself with a lot of dignity. The clientele may have been Middle Class and lower, but that was great. It was really nice to see people who probably couldn't get a seat a the bar in Le Bec Fin conduct themselves with the sort of grace and dignity that America so easily reserves for rich people only. It was a chance to feel special. That's what it was for us, too. Sure, dressing up a bit doesn't change your social stature. But let's face it, America is a place where perception was a reality, and for one night, the people at this restaurant had the perception of higher status. And frankly, when I think of the folks I never much cared for in High School who were probably charging a fancy meal at a big restaurant to their parents credit card, I feel much more maturity and dignity for being at The Olive Garden under my own financial means.

She walked into our dorm room and it was like I'd never seen her before. I've always thought she was beautiful. But this was the first time I'd seen her dressed up. It wasn't even that formal; it was a long denim skirt, a black top with frilly sleeves and her hair was combed differently. But...it was like the first time I saw her. I remember being embarrassed at being dumbfounded by how elegant she was, how pretty she was. She took my hand...it was like we'd never held hands before. And then we walked all the way from our dorm in West Philly to the Olive Garden in Center City. It was one of those warm summer nights...the kind that feel endless.

It's customary when reflecting on past romances to ultimately let the worse natures of our being take control of the perspective. We dwell on what went wrong...as if something going wrong implies the entire experience was wrong. And I feel that sentiment in the population prevents me from sharing stories like this. People think I'm dwelling on the opposite side of the fence. That I'm living in a sort of daydream of past loves by remembering fond moments. That's not the case. They're simply moments I refuse to let leave me. Love is a powerful thing, and that power is not without it's painful side. But I choose to believe it's always worth it. The moments that I hold onto, like this one, confirm that belief for me. Perception is indeed reality.

The Return...

2008-04-27T12:20:00.000-07:00

Greetings, Blogstablishment!

Yes, after laying low for a while, I now return to you, the reader, to impart upon you my logic, knowledge, wisdom, humor, whining and ill-informed opinions. But, the question remains, inthe words of Mr. Seinfeld, what have I been doing?

Well int he past bunch o time since last I updated, I have been to court, beat one charge, paid the ifne on the other, amused a New York City judge, gotten drunk with some of the top artists in comics, taken a picture with an inexplicably tanned Stan Lee, become oddly fascinated with the Constitutional convention, killed a man, had my 24 hour film selected as a finalist in the festival, and taken a west coast swing dance class. (one of these isn't true -- guess which one!)

Yes, it's been a wild time for Tom Brennan. The film is indeed one of the finalists -- swing on over to:

http://www.filmracing.com/Films/competitions/nyc2008.htm

and vote for "No Regrets" -- we shall win by hook or crook!

And as for me -- yup, I'm back and better than never. Stand by, Blogmerica, for this is when it starts getting good. After all, it's the spring. Love it.

For all y'all!

2008-04-02T15:48:00.000-07:00

Hey, All.

Been a bit busier than I've planned to be lately, so I haven't updated frequently. Just competed in a 24 Hour film race. Had a blast. Info to come. Untill then, have a West Wing Quote. It goes out to, well, everbody:

This guy's walking down a street when he falls in a hole. The walls are so steep, he can't get out. A doctor passes by, and the guy shouts up, "Hey you, can you help me out?" The doctor writes a prescription, throws it down in the hole and moves on. Then a priest comes along, and the guy shouts up "Father, I'm down in this hole, can you help me out?" The priest writes out a prayer, throws it down in the hole and moves on. Then a friend walks by. "Hey Joe, it's me, can you help me out?" And the friend jumps in the hole. Our guy says, "Are you stupid? Now we're both down here." The friend says, "Yeah, but I've been down here before, and I know the way out."

Fearless

2008-03-24T14:13:00.000-07:00

It's impossible. Completely, 100 percent impossible to have no fear. After all, to have no fears means there's nothing you care about or care for, and that's utterly implausible. It's off the map.

So why is there so much talk about being fearless? Why do people want to be something that doesn't exist? See, that's the catch -- fearlessness is completely possible. It's a matter of action, not feeling. It's about acting in spite of the fears. Facing the fears and shoving past it, regardless of the consequences. Sometimes you don't know what's going to happen. Other times you know you can't win. Either way, you're given a choice -- a chance to face your fears. Most people (including me, you and everyone else on Earth) won't bother with the latter. If you can't win, what's the point of trying? Sometimes it's simply to know that you can still get up the nerve to take the shot. Sometimes its about proving it to yourself.

My biggest fear of late is the morning. I'm not sure why; In the past few years -- particularly out of college -- I've found every day to be a battle I dread. A challenge which I'm never certain I'll accomplish. Maybe it's just the tidal wave of changes in the past three years, but I have a lot of days where I wake up with one thought: "What's going to go wrong now?"

But really it's a fear of the truth, which is I'm fighting a battle with depression. Have been noticeably for about two years now, but it's probably gone on and off longer than that. I've got a family history of it. It may not be as severe as some of the others in my family, but it's there. And I'm trying really hard to keep up. But it's really a fucking battle and a half.

I came to my parents' house tonight to find it empty. My dad's coat and phone are here, but my mom's nowhere to be found and the car is gone. I can't get in touch with either them or my sister. More likely than not, nothing's wrong. But I'm feeling a huge sense of dread.

One of them got sick

My sister's in trouble

Somebody died

I remember when Michael died back in 2006, I called him a couple times that day and it went straight to voice mail. It was a bit odd, but I didn't think the worst had occurred. A few months later, when a co-worker and friend slept through her morning shift at CBS, we all called her -- only for it to go straight to voice mail. My first thought was, "She's dead." No question about it. And I've had a thousand moments like that since then.

I just got a call from the parents -- they ended up going out for dinner. All's well. But that's a good snapshot of what it's been like for a while. It's like walking around with a gun pointed at your head. A constant assumption of the worst. And I do wonder what I can possibly do to get past it. I don't think I ever will. And when I go to bed, I hope my sleep will last for decades.

And then in a flash, I wake up. It's morning. I get the tight feeling in the chest. I want to hide. I want to stay home.

But instead I drag myself out of bed and get going anyway. It's nothing creative, but it's the best solution I've got right now.

From my office's blog's message board:

2008-03-24T11:06:00.000-07:00

"I want a Brennan too. You should give one free with every copy."

Truer words never spoken. You could all learn something from whoever this person is.

Nice guys finish last: One thing on Eliot Spitzer, part the second

2008-03-15T08:51:00.000-07:00

I will say this much in the Former Governor's defense: What did we learn here? Charming people win the day. Every. Time.

Eliot Spitzer: Asshole. Cheats on wife with expensive prostitute. Does the gentlemanly thing and pays for (a) the sex (b) her transportation (c) the hotel room. Basically, he pays for everything. Nice guy at heart.

End result? Everyone turns on Spitzer. Dems ignore and chastise him. Eliot Spitzer quits within 48 Hours.

Bill Clinton: Charming guy. Cheats on wife as public official with intern. Ever been an intern? They make school credit. If that. What did she learn on her internship? Which way it curves. Bill Clinton, leader of free world, exploits a horny young woman trying to get school credit.

End result? Entire Democratic party calls young girl a liar and seductress. Dems flock to Clinton's side. Bill Clinton finishes term with high approval rating. It's not until he turns racist that people start hating him.

It's an unfair world, Eliot. I guess you should have been nicer.

But ultimately, Spitz-Man, if I were an elected official who made his name on being a crime fighter, I wouldn't spend money to have sexual intercourse with young women. But hey, that's just me. That's how I was raised.