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| “Weihnachtsmischung (Winter-Mix)”, ©Jeff Glovsky |
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(Dank wie immer to MingoPhoto for paying attention ...:)
The Fall of Jeff Glovsky
Sunday, December 28, 2014
Thursday, December 25, 2014
Constant Wishes
No matter which Hol(y)days you celebrate
(or Sainted traditions you may have Nicked)
to share, maybe laugh and make it through
the frenzies of this Season
(and regardless of the color,
shape, size, meaning of your symbols),
be MERRY, bright and prosperous
... and Peaceful. Always that.
Monday, December 22, 2014
Sony, North Korea and Me!
As an American, I’m confused: do I thump my chest and stress about
complete and utter capitulation … the weaselly collapse of an entire
segment of population … the industry that feeds it and the “weakness” of
our nation?
Or am I glad that things aired on the right side of caution, and that fate wasn’t tempted?
Or am I glad that things aired on the right side of caution, and that fate wasn’t tempted?
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Saturday, December 20, 2014
Remember(ing) Laughter
When my dad turned 50 years old, he did a little 'river dance' on his birthday cake. Sadly frustrated with life and years behind him to that point, and whatever present hassles he felt his family, (empty) wallet and failing business had been giving him, in a single swooping motion, he swatted his 50th birthday cake off the kitchen counter, and leapt upon it like Nureyev.
Stamping like a person one-tenth his age in the frosting, and crushing "5" and "0" candles beneath his still shoe-clad feet, he ceased misbehaving only when my mom burst, literally, Lucille Ball-like into tears.
I was not privvy to the "Event of the Half Century", as my brother and I came to call that day; I did not witness it myself ... My brother, in these sort of excited, hushed tones, related what was going on, as I entertained guests in the upstairs bedroom we shared: a sanctuary (whenever I'd lock Jared out of it) that I used to kick back and call, "The Swamp".
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| Finest Kind |
My friend Mike and I had been arguing that day over which of us was going to be Hawkeye Pierce ... and more importantly, which one of us was going to go downstairs and eat birthday cake wearing the dirty bathrobe my brother and I had laying around the floor of our bedroom?
I was adamant: I was going to be wearing that bathrobe, because Hawkeye would have ... and anyway, it was on my bedroom floor, in my house, not Mike's!
"You're Trapper John! You're TRAPPER!" I screamed into Mike's sweaty armpit ... as he tightened his headlock and gave me a noogie.
Just then, my brother (Major Winchester) burst in. "Dad smashed his birthday cake on the floor!"
I didn't hear what he said at first -- flailing, in a headlock, as I was -- but eventually, as the words sank in -- and as my best friend Mike released his grip -- I realized that neither of us would be needing the bathrobe ...
There wasn't any birthday cake to be eaten!
"Jared, are you joking?" I asked my brother.
He responded by throwing me into a headlock ... I told him I believed him! I just wanted to make sure!
He gave me a noogie. Then we ran downstairs.
Sure enough, my mom was wailing like Lucy ... a birthday cake was on the floor ... and there was my dad, with some paper towels, wiping frosting and candle wax off his shoes.
Fast forward several decades. As I near the 'Big Five-Oh' myself -- incidentally, no longer so smug in my lineal place as the older brother -- I compare my (mid)life now, to my dad's back then: daily stresses? Check. Money messes? Check. Failed business(es)? Check(check). Wailing wife and stunned children? At times, check and check.
But an overriding impulse to laugh through it all?
I was adamant: I was going to be wearing that bathrobe, because Hawkeye would have ... and anyway, it was on my bedroom floor, in my house, not Mike's!
"You're Trapper John! You're TRAPPER!" I screamed into Mike's sweaty armpit ... as he tightened his headlock and gave me a noogie.
Just then, my brother (Major Winchester) burst in. "Dad smashed his birthday cake on the floor!"
I didn't hear what he said at first -- flailing, in a headlock, as I was -- but eventually, as the words sank in -- and as my best friend Mike released his grip -- I realized that neither of us would be needing the bathrobe ...
There wasn't any birthday cake to be eaten!
"Jared, are you joking?" I asked my brother.
He responded by throwing me into a headlock ... I told him I believed him! I just wanted to make sure!
He gave me a noogie. Then we ran downstairs.
Sure enough, my mom was wailing like Lucy ... a birthday cake was on the floor ... and there was my dad, with some paper towels, wiping frosting and candle wax off his shoes.
Fast forward several decades. As I near the 'Big Five-Oh' myself -- incidentally, no longer so smug in my lineal place as the older brother -- I compare my (mid)life now, to my dad's back then: daily stresses? Check. Money messes? Check. Failed business(es)? Check(check). Wailing wife and stunned children? At times, check and check.
But an overriding impulse to laugh through it all?
That most vital touchstone ... Happily, check ✓.
Sunday, December 14, 2014
New Winter Blues
"2% or 1% of 0.2% can always be used to destroy a human being, when there are no barriers, when there is no perspective and no context." - U.S. Supreme Court Associate Justice Clarence Thomas
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The other day, someone contacted me to rent an apartment I own. After going through all of the usual motions -- proving the property is mine to offer, sharing references, sending this person a link with photos ... then agreeing on a monthly price and informing the renter what I'd require to move forward, and move into my property ...
The renter informs me that he "decided to do a quick google search" ... hopes it's some kind of "misunderstanding" ... but "can still not justify moving forward with this transaction".
... There are three (3) posts bearing my name on Ripoff Report. Since 2010 -- although really, not until I became able to emerge from shell shock in 2013 -- I have fought, and won, to remove damaging items about me online.
About "Jeff Glovsky", personally; not negative "yelps" or scathing "reviews" about my underperforming, badly managed and ultimately failed business nearly five years ago ... but disgusting name-calling, insulting and bullying against my personal reputation ... hobbies, interests, friends and family, loved ones ...
The fallout from these emotional attacks launched in 2010, both publicly (online) and through private, chiding emails to which I would find myself waking each day, and then literally fearing, continued for years ... until enough became far more than enough, and I finally crawled out of my shell-shocked torpor.
This is something that the aborted renter I mentioned, probably doesn't know (not that it would've made any difference to him): that I've fought, and WON. To remove -- Delete. Permanently. -- other nasty, unwarranted, damaging, emotional, false and defamatory misinformation about me from the internet.
Why? Because it wasn't a full picture and/or wasn't accurate - and nobody has unfettered "freedom of speech": to attack or defame, and destroy my name, or anyone's name online because they can ... or especially, believe they "should".
But what's still out there about me online -- and still alarming to potential renters, colleagues, friends and partners ... disarming potential -- is also inaccurate; the statements which still publicly fester, contributing still to permanent damage and loss of income and opportunity (not to mention respect) ... are lopsided, if not wholly false.
Doesn't matter ... The three (3) complaints about me on Ripoff Report remain, and they remain visible.
So the abortion I mentioned ... the failed renter ... informed me the other day he wasn't renting my apartment. "Not a problem," I chirped cheerily. "Hope you find what you're looking for!"
He then proceeded -- seriously. Because I asked him, "Are you joking?"
"Not in the slightest," he chirped to me, cheerily --
then proceeded to suggest that I let him stay in my apartment free for a couple of months -- "plus some cash", he offered grandly -- in exchange for his help with "online reputation management".
"We offer a guarantee on this service as we use lawyers and legal documentation to have the result removed from google," he babbled. "If you are interested in the proposition I can send you some case studies."
If not for the risible opportunism (and rank inappropriateness) ... the guy's earnest cluelessness ... the assumption and presumptions he'd made, with his mind up: case closed, black and white, righteous and wrong ...
I'd have laughed in his face. My rancid, hot breath bringing sting to his eyes, as I leaned in to offend him.
The same way he nonchalantly offended me.
... There are three (3) posts bearing my name on Ripoff Report. Since 2010 -- although really, not until I became able to emerge from shell shock in 2013 -- I have fought, and won, to remove damaging items about me online.
About "Jeff Glovsky", personally; not negative "yelps" or scathing "reviews" about my underperforming, badly managed and ultimately failed business nearly five years ago ... but disgusting name-calling, insulting and bullying against my personal reputation ... hobbies, interests, friends and family, loved ones ...
The fallout from these emotional attacks launched in 2010, both publicly (online) and through private, chiding emails to which I would find myself waking each day, and then literally fearing, continued for years ... until enough became far more than enough, and I finally crawled out of my shell-shocked torpor.
This is something that the aborted renter I mentioned, probably doesn't know (not that it would've made any difference to him): that I've fought, and WON. To remove -- Delete. Permanently. -- other nasty, unwarranted, damaging, emotional, false and defamatory misinformation about me from the internet.
Why? Because it wasn't a full picture and/or wasn't accurate - and nobody has unfettered "freedom of speech": to attack or defame, and destroy my name, or anyone's name online because they can ... or especially, believe they "should".
But what's still out there about me online -- and still alarming to potential renters, colleagues, friends and partners ... disarming potential -- is also inaccurate; the statements which still publicly fester, contributing still to permanent damage and loss of income and opportunity (not to mention respect) ... are lopsided, if not wholly false.
Doesn't matter ... The three (3) complaints about me on Ripoff Report remain, and they remain visible.
So the abortion I mentioned ... the failed renter ... informed me the other day he wasn't renting my apartment. "Not a problem," I chirped cheerily. "Hope you find what you're looking for!"
He then proceeded -- seriously. Because I asked him, "Are you joking?"
"Not in the slightest," he chirped to me, cheerily --
then proceeded to suggest that I let him stay in my apartment free for a couple of months -- "plus some cash", he offered grandly -- in exchange for his help with "online reputation management".
"We offer a guarantee on this service as we use lawyers and legal documentation to have the result removed from google," he babbled. "If you are interested in the proposition I can send you some case studies."
If not for the risible opportunism (and rank inappropriateness) ... the guy's earnest cluelessness ... the assumption and presumptions he'd made, with his mind up: case closed, black and white, righteous and wrong ...
I'd have laughed in his face. My rancid, hot breath bringing sting to his eyes, as I leaned in to offend him.
The same way he nonchalantly offended me.
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| “Lunar (New Year)”, ©Jeff Glovsky |
Sunday, December 7, 2014
Saturday, December 6, 2014
Riddle Me This
Recent input (from me) on a social network:
What fascinates me about social media is the psychological aspect.
What is/are the reason(s) behind the loneliness ... the histrionics ... the sad, almost desperate need for attention? The delusional hope -- or worse, the belief -- that every thought or "tweet" we make is somehow necessary/interesting?
That we have, and are supposed to have, "fans" - literal strangers, for whom we preen and pout and smile in "selfies" ... so that we might be "liked".
When did we become so sick? What void does social media fill?
Were lives of people always so empty ... lacking as well in the not so distant past, the milennial capacity we now have to "share"?
Or do we exist today in a permanent, new "normal" state of mental illness?
What fascinates me about social media is the psychological aspect.
What is/are the reason(s) behind the loneliness ... the histrionics ... the sad, almost desperate need for attention? The delusional hope -- or worse, the belief -- that every thought or "tweet" we make is somehow necessary/interesting?
That we have, and are supposed to have, "fans" - literal strangers, for whom we preen and pout and smile in "selfies" ... so that we might be "liked".
When did we become so sick? What void does social media fill?
Were lives of people always so empty ... lacking as well in the not so distant past, the milennial capacity we now have to "share"?
Or do we exist today in a permanent, new "normal" state of mental illness?
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| Try Logging Off This Holiday Season ... It'll Be OKAY! |
Really.
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