News, Views, & Interviews

Southwest Airlines. Their motto and enchanting ding tone are becoming as familiar as McDonald’s golden arches, as Budweiser’s Clydesdales, or as Nike’s swish logo. I discovered yesterday that their slogan is more literal than I ever would have guessed. Thanks to Southwest, in the span of a 15-hour period, I saw two oceans, Canada, the Great Lakes, the Great Plaines, the Grand Canyon, Las Vegas, the Rocky Mountains, the Hotel Del Coronado, the painted dessert, and Mexico. It’s a funny story, really. My flight left Providence, Rhode Island, at 6:40 in the morning bound for Tucson, Arizona, with a layover in Chicago’s wind and wild weather. The flight took us to the edge of the Canadian border, over the great lakes, and down to Chi Town. The plane got in okay, but when I landed I saw that my connecting flight to Tucson was cancelled. In fact, any flight scheduled after 10:30 AM was cancelled. Oy. Now what? “We can send you to Las Vegas where you can try and get on standby for one of the three flights heading to Tucson,” the Southwest agent said. I knew staying in Chicago meant that I could be there for days depending on when the impending snow storm was going to let up. Okay. Las Vegas. Big buffets. Gambling. I could get stuck there. Our Sin City-bound plane was one of the very last flights to leave Chicago before the storm. They flew a southern route, so we got a great look at the Grand Canyon, snow rimmed, painted, amazing. As the plane neared touchdown I saw the famous Las Vegas strip. The Bellagio, the MGM Grand, and the Excalibur all beckoned from a distance. “All the flights to Tucson are completely booked,” the Southwest agent told me in Las Vegas. “But I can get you over to San Diego where you can catch a flight back to Tucson… the flight leaves in 40 minutes.” Okay, San Diego… nice weather. Good Mexican food. I could get stuck there. The flight was fast, and there was Mexico, Southern California, and the Pacific Ocean. Nice. “Yes, we can get you on the next flight to Tucson. It leaves in an hour.” Woo hoo! Tucson. I could get stuck there. At 5:30 PM the plane touched down at my final destination. At baggage claim I made another discovery. Not only was I free to move about the country, but so was my luggage. While I was checking out various oceans and national points of interest, my bag thought it would be fun to take some different flights, to see some other cities. So I hit the “Gas City” truck stop off of I-10 and picked up a “Gas City” t-shirt (so I could change clothes), and some toiletry basics. That night I’d be roughing it, I guess. Southwest called me the morning to let me know that my bag had indeed finally arrived. I asked the company representative (and my bag) where they had gone, neither said a word. However I saw lipstick stains on my luggage and it smelled like booze. So wherever it went, it must have had a good time. Between my bag and myself, we freely moved about the country, all in a single exhausting day.

Since the last football game of the regular season, the media has been running with a David (whichever team the Patriots are playing) versus Goliath (the Patriots) motif. Each week, Goliath has prevailed. The Patriots are now the first team to ever go 18 and 0, and they are one win away from a perfect, undefeated season — something that has only happened once before (back when you could only win 17 games in an entire season) in the National Football League. Of course, this Patriots team also broke a slew of records along the way: most points scored by a team in a single season, most touchdown passes thrown by a quarterback (Tom Brady), most touchdown receptions by a single receiver (Randy Moss), and most consecutive regular season wins (dating back to the 2006 season). This is the greatest team to ever play the game. That’s not opinion, that’s the numbers. No other team has won this many games in a row, or put up this many points. And here’s the hardest fact to accept: if the Patriots lose the Super Bowl, all of these accomplishments just become a footnote in NFL history. If they win, then the ’07 Patriots will be talked about for decades to come (just as the ’72 Miami Dolphins have been talked about for 35 years — something that will change if the Patriots win in two weeks). No matter what happens in the Super Bowl, the Patriots are destined to become an adjective. For you non-writing types, here’s a reminder: an adjective is a word that modifies a noun. It can enhance, qualify, specify, or diminish the noun. For example: That is a fat man. In this example, “fat” is the adjective used to describe the man. If the New England Patriots win the Super Bowl, their name will become an adjective synonymous with greatness, dominance, and perfection. As in: In Patriots-like fashion, Bertha Teidlebaum’s baking outshined all the others in the church bake-off. Or: The Red Sox looked Patriots-esque in last night’s game when they beat the New York Yankees 18 to 2. Shoot, even a modified version of the team name may take on a whole new meaning. Imagine the coach of the Indianapolis Colts trying to get his team fired up for the first game of next season by saying, “Now let’s get out there and be Patriotic!” (Suitable to, or characteristic of, the Patriots.) Every overly-dominant football team over the next decade or so will be described with the word “Patriots” in some way. Then there’s the flip-side. It’s almost too horrible to think about, but the reality is this: if the Patriots lose to the New York Giants in the Super Bowl, “Patriots” will come to describe something that is hands-down better than all of its competitors, but comes undone the one time it really counts. A horrible adjective indeed. Imagine a stockbroker saying something like, “I put in the order for 10,000 shares of GE just an hour before the stock price tripled on some great market news. But I totally pulled a Patriots and forgot to confirm the order so it never went through.” Any football team that blows a big lead will do so in Patriots-like fashion; Patriotism will come to mean something terrible; and any number one seed in any future playoff game will have to sit through pre-game speeches from coaches who warn them not to be Patriotic. Get it done. The Patriots are the better team. All the numbers prove it. But any sport fan knows that on any given game day, things can go wrong. The Patriots won’t make the mistake of under preparing for this game, they’re too well coached and disciplined for that. But on any given Sunday things can and do go wrong. Even David slew Goliath once. The Patriots are bound for immortality on February third. That’s already determined. Whether it’s fame or infamy now rests in their own extremely capable hands. Go Goliath! And for God’s sakes watch out for rocks.

That’s right… sorry to be the one to tell you, but you’re not special. There are many other people who can do what you do. There are people who can do some of the things that you do even better than you. Accept this fact and you’re on the way to getting better at everything you apply yourself to. Ego is the number one detriment to your growth and progress. Don’t get me wrong, confidence is a good thing, and ego can be a natural and normal extension of that confidence, but as soon as you think you’re the best at something that you do, you cease striving, you stop learning, and you limit your own potential. I’ve seen this phenomenon in every work environment I’ve ever been in, and I’ve also seen this in interpersonal relationships. When you think you’re great at anything… you become complacent. Knowing I’m not special has made me more competitive, more cooperative in my business and personal dealings, and it’s made me apply myself to the things I’m most passionate about. If I ever felt that I had done my best work at any occupation, then it would be time to hang it up. I wake up each day and remind myself that I’m not special, so I work harder, I forge alliances and relationships that will help me get better at what I do, and I strive to push my successes to greater heights than they’ve been before. Seeing progress is where I find satisfaction, not in any singular accomplishment. Accept that you’re not special, and you’ll be ready to really start kicking some butt.

Every once in a while a song comes along that transcends a genre. A song so powerful, that its hook is almost instantly burned into our somewhat-permanent memory banks. In most cases, we would be talking about a really great song—an “instant classic” to borrow an industry cliché—but not always. And not in this case (bear with me). Some songs are so bad, so utterly cheesy, that they also become unforgettable. Examples include: “Macarena” (both the song and the dance), “MacArthur Park,” and “Mambo Number 5.” No musical genre is immune from this phenomenon. Recently, I experienced a new song that falls into this instantly unforgettable trash category. This one comes from rap mogul Snoop Dogg and is called “Sensual Seduction.” In the interest of full disclosure, let me say that I’m actually a big fan of the Doggfather. His song “Gin and Juice” is one of the very few rap songs that is still relevant and good almost 15 years after its debut. Very few rap songs have a shelf life of more than a few months. “Gin and Juice” is truly a classic. Snoop’s new song “Sensual Seduction” also won’t be forgotten anytime soon. If you haven’t experienced the song yet, you’ll need to go hear it before you continue reading. You can hear it and watch the video for free on YouTube. Go check it out, I’ll wait for you to get back.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pKz-RXSeIYA Pretty bad, huh? But dammit, you’ll be hearing that melody and the electronic effect on Snoop’s voice the rest of the day and into tomorrow. You’ll call friends over to show them how wonderfully awful the new song is. You’ll forward the link and watch it again before you hit send just to be sure. You’ll watch it and listen to the song again and again just to laugh at the absurdity of the genre-bending attempt by one of the biggest names in rap music. And each time you expose yourself to this song, its infection will grow onto you, in you, and through you. You won’t soon forget “Sensual Seduction.” Snoop’s new song will be intermingling with truly good songs that are stored in your permanent memory to the point where a few weeks or months down the road you’ll question whether “Sensual Seduction” can really be a bad song if you’re still thinking about it and hearing the melody so many weeks later. The line between good and bad art will blur because we’ve learned to equate memorable with good. Because the song is written and performed by Snoop Dogg, there’s a level of trust there. We’ll give it a chance. Heck, we’ll probably give anything Snoop does a chance because he’s so good. And there’s the rub. Snoop just seduced us… again. Eh, maybe the new song ain’t so bad.

‘Tis the season of giving. ‘Tis the season for every charity under the sun to hit you up either via mail, email, telephone, or in person as they wait outside of shopping centers ready to open fire on you with guilt-laced words of mass destruction (WMDs). “Hi, would you like to help a starving child this holiday season,” the charity collector might open with before unleashing the real blow: “or would you rather see the poor, innocent creature die?” So then you’re left with a choice: give to this charity you may know nothing about, or walk away worried about what the passers-by may be thinking of you. Don’t get me wrong. Charity is a good thing. A very good thing. But it’s important that you do your homework before giving. Some are outright scams, others aren’t exactly unethical but their overhead is so high that very little of your contribution makes it to the intended needy. Which is why I usually don’t mind giving blood. There’s just not many ways a group can misuse a blood donation. I have a somewhat rare blood type: A Negative. About 85% of Americans are Rh positive, and of the remaining 15%, about 6% of us are A Negative. So the Red Cross calls me pretty regularly asking me to give. I feel it’s my duty to give blood because I need to cover for all of my Jehovah Witness friends who won’t give blood because of their belief system, and I need to cover for lots of other people who just don’t give for no specific reason. I started giving blood regularly about two years ago and I set a goal for myself: to give at least 12 times. Today marks my seventh time donating which means (for those of you mathematically inclined who are paying attention) that I’m more than half way there. The reason 12 is my magic number is because that’s the average number of pints in an adult male. Once I’ve given 12 times I can say I gave it all. After that, if I need to turn the Red Cross phone solicitor down for any reason, I won’t have any guilt. I’ve learned that the Red Cross has a scale similar to the U.S. Government’s color-coded terror alert level system. The Red Cross’s level of need relative to the amount of blood in storage falls under the following categories: 1. Critical 2. Desperate 3. Emergency 4. We’re all doomed Today they were only at the “Critical “level which means all is well with the blood supply. Besides alleviating your guilt, there are other good reasons to give: one pint of your blood can save up to three lives, you’re helping your fellow man and getting nothing for it besides juice and cookies, and last but definitely not least, you become a cheap date. As I type this I’m sipping a Samuel Adams Winter Lager and it’s going right to my head. Cheers and happy giving!

I’m a sucker for any kid selling anything. Probably because I remember going door-to-door as a kid for the Cub Scouts, my school, my sports team, or whatever other fundraisers I was involved in. I’m by far the easiest mark in my neighborhood. The kids all know that no matter what kind of junk they’re selling, and for whatever cause, I’ll buy. Not only will I buy, I’ll buy from all of them. If three kids from three different families are all selling something for the same cause, I’ll buy something from each of them. I can’t help it. Maybe I’m just a capitalist at heart, and seeing kids trying their hands at sales just sparks nostalgia. But the other day something happened that has shaken my suckerishness (if there is such a word). I was walking out of Stop and Shop and ran into a group of Cub Scouts selling pop corn. “Hi, would you like to buy some pop corn?” the young salesman said. Sure,” I said. “Whadaya got?” “We have this one, and this one, and this one,” he said. He pointed to a box of microwave popcorn, a bag of kernels for the old-fashion fans, and a small tin of chocolate covered popcorn. “Chocolate cover sounds good,” I said. “I’ll take that one.” “Sixteen dollars, please,” the boy said. Ouch. $16 bucks for a small tin of popcorn and now I was stuck. I can walk away and look like a cheapskate or I can pony up the $16 and feel ripped off. Either way I lose. As the dad came over to take my $20 and get me my change, I asked if the boys were going for their Gouging Badge. I got an uncomfortable laugh back. A laugh that suggested he didn’t like the prices either. “Thanks for supporting our troop,” the boy said. He showed a toothy smile. The capitalist in me smiled back and my heart melted again. It’s a good thing the kid wasn’t selling something really expensive or we would all be in trouble. I walked away with my $16 chocolate-covered popcorn — the stuff tastes good, I’ll give them that. Or maybe I’m still trying to justify being grifted by a kid.

Hey everyone… I know I haven’t blogged in a while. Sorry about that if you’ve been checking in. It’s October and I’m like a tax accountant in April. I wanted to make a quick post about some of the events and appearances I have coming up between now and the end of the month. I hope to see/hear you all at every single one of them!  -Jeff October 16: Jeff Belanger on KSNI in Santa Maria, CA, Jeff Belanger on WSEI 92.9 FM in Olney, IL October 17: Jeff Belanger on WKIS 99.9 FM in Miami, Florida, Jeff Belanger at Bellingham, MA Library October 18: Jeff Belanger on WPCK 104.9 FM in Green Bay, WI, Jeff Belanger on WQRL 106.3 FM in Benton, IL October 22: Jeff Belanger on SNEP Live Radio, Jeff Belanger on WGRR in Cincinnati, OH October 23: Jeff Belanger on WLPO in Oglesby, IL, Jeff Belanger on WPVL 107.1 FM in Platteville, WI October 24: Jeff Belanger at the Mendon, MA Library, Jeff Belanger on WNDV 92.9 FM in South Bend, IN October 25: Jeff Belanger on KOA-AM in Denver October 26: Jeff Belanger on WTBQ in Florida, NY, Jeff Belanger on WSUL in Monticello, NY October 28: Jeff Belanger on the Travel Channel October 29: Jeff Belanger on WFON K101.7 FM in Fond Du Lac, WI, Jeff Belanger on WTRC in Elkhart, IN, Jeff Belanger on KFXJ 104.5 FM in Wichita, KS, Jeff Belanger on KNOX AM 1310 in Grand Forks, ND, Jeff Belanger on WRIF in Detroit, MI, Jeff Belanger on WCUB in Manitowoc, WI October 30: Jeff Belanger at Bellingham, MA Library, Jeff Belanger on CFRB Radio with Richard Syrett, Jeff Belanger on WLS AM 890 – Chicago, Jeff Belanger on NECN TV October 31: Jeff Belanger on KTAO 101.9 FM in Taos, NM, Jeff Belanger on WFHN in Fairhaven, MA November 2-3: Virginia City Ghost Conference – Nevada

Dear Pampers: I took physics in high school, I’ve read up on it since, and I believe I have a better-than-average understanding of the subject. I understand displacement and I get basic mechanics. What I can’t possibly explain is how your diaper managed to hold in what my three-month-old daughter just produced this afternoon. Let me explain. This past week we started giving my daughter an occasional bottle of formula in an effort to try and get her used to using the bottle. She hasn’t gone poo in about five days, and yesterday she seemed to be getting uncomfortable. We knew something was coming… something big, and something bad. Ironically, it happened today. Father’s Day. We heard it first, then smelled it. We carried our daughter to the changing table as if she were both radioactive and on fire. Describing what she placed in your diaper wouldn’t be appropriate in mixed company, but let’s just say there was a lot of it. A whole lot. What I saw rocked my understanding of the field of physics. First, I can’t possibly explain how something that weighs about 13 pounds can produce that much stuff without imploding; and second, I can’t possibly explain how your Pampers Swaddlers held all of that in! Your product has broken the laws of physics; however, you have saved an outfit my daughter was wearing as well as possibly our carpet and other pieces of furniture that may have been otherwise bombed. My hat is off to you and your company for your seemingly supernatural diaper product. Regards, -Jeff Belanger

Two things happened recently that have caused me to revisit “Prophet” Reverend Peter Popoff of The People United for Christ, Incorporated. First, I’ve received a number of comments and emails regarding my first blog about Popoff’s “Miracle Spring Water” from Chernobyl that made me realize this guy is out there really hurting people, many of whom are desperate for answers. The second event that prompted another blog was that Rev. Peter Popoff himself phoned me! Well… sort of. I want to tell you a little bit more about my professional background. After college I was an editor for a newspaper in Danbury, Connecticut. When the newspaper ran out of money, so did I. So I sold out and went into marketing and public relations. I spent the next six years working in the marketing departments of both public and private companies, and I even did a stint working for an advertising agency in Connecticut. During this time I learned a lot about direct mail by organizing campaigns for clients, writing the contents of some of these sales documents, and understanding what technology was available in regard to making the letters personalized and more innovative. So when I receive direct mail of any kind today, I have an understanding of what went into the creation of the piece. So the other day my office phone rang and I picked it up. “This is your prophet Peter Popoff,” the voice on the other end said. I immediately recognized the voice. The recording of Popoff’s voice went on to tell me that I should watch one of his televised miracle crusades that was coming up. After I hung up, it occurred to me that I’d never spoken with a living human from Peter Popoff’s People United for Christ, Incorporated. The first toll-free number I called all those months ago was answered by a recording from Peter Popoff who asked me to leave my name and address (spelling everything out) on the recording. After that, the letters started coming, each one asking for a specific amount of money. I gave the amount he requested twice because I wanted to see where this would go. I quickly figured out where it was going. Each week I received one or two letters from Popoff, each with some crazy gimmick like holy bubble gum, blessed mood rings, or a supernatural fleece. You can see that one below (click on the image for a larger view). I also noticed other features of Popoff’s direct mail campaigns. In the lower right of each piece of mail I received from Popoff, was a number: 1921805. This is a control number. The day I first called for the Miracle Spring Water, I was assigned this number in their computer. When I mailed in a “donation,” it was noted on my number and I became a higher priority for the campaign. Some of the cards Popoff asked me to fill out asked if I was married, or who I’d like him to pray for and what was my relationship to that person. He also asked how much debt I was in. I filled in a few things that are public knowledge anyway. I gave him my wife’s name on the card, and I told him the total I owe on my house’s mortgage. When my donation and filled-in cards went back, I noticed future letters became more personalized — they mentioned my wife’s name as well. How? Because when my mail goes back to his headquarters, someone enters that information in the database that corresponds with my control number 1921805. The more details he has, the more personalized the letters can become — and through the miracle of automation software and direct mail, he can send out thousands of these letters per day — all “personalized.” Popoff’s letters are printed in two colors. A black “Courier” type face to make it look like it was typed on a typewriter, and then blue writing to make it seem like he personally wrote special notes that call the reader’s attention to various parts of the letter. These are probably written by Popoff himself because they’re generic (i.e. they don’t mention my name) and the lettering is different than other seemingly hand-written sections. Check out page 4 of his “fleecing” letter. Notice how he asks for $24.00 at the end? And see my control number in the lower right (click on the image for a larger view)? One person who emailed me about my first Popoff blog mentioned that they had personalized hand-written notes from the good Reverend on their letters. The hand-written parts of the letters is simply a computer font. If you look at the letters, you’ll see all of the E’s are identical, as are the I’s, T’s, etc. It’s just a type face and it’s a different style than those generic messages I mentioned above. I’ve included one of these here (click on the image for a larger view): A database feeds a printing press that churns these letters out, stuffs the envelopes, and then someone brings them to the post office. You wouldn’t need too many people to run an operation like this. No one has to answer phones or letters. They just have to run the checks to the bank, enter information from donations into the database, and run the printing press. It’s easy, and it’s obviously profitable. You almost have to admire Rev. Popoff’s approach. It’s a formula that is working for him. It’s completely impersonal, has nothing to do with teaching the Bible or anything else, and everything to do with pulling readers in to donating various amounts of money that can really add up over time. Along the way he’ll send you bubble gum, oil, water, salt, and anything else he can dream up in an effort to make you think you’re partaking in a supernatural ritual, when in reality you’re acting like a puppet and he’s just pulling your strings in an effort to get