My interview in The Daily Bugle

I wasn't going to tell anyone, but I guess the secret is out.

A few years ago, I moonlighted as a taxi driver for a little while. I needed some cash and college was getting expensive. But I wanted it to be a secret and I wanted to stay anonymous. I wanted to be just an average guy doing average things being anonymous. So made a plan to fly to New York and drive a taxi through New York City. New Yorkers paid ok, and I made my money for the spring semester.

You weren't supposed to know. As a matter of fact, there wasn't supposed to be any record that Mike Lortz ever drove a cab anywhere. My taxi license said "Jordi Scrubbings". I wore the small afro wig and told everyone I went to the University of the United States - a small school that doesn't even have a basketball team.

Then Daily Bugle writer Joy Mercado let the cat out of the bag.

One of the biggest problems facing New York City when I was cab driving - besides a dopey superhero in a spider suit - was the construction of an experimental hydroelectric power plant. Supposedly, the plant would "reshape New York's entire power landscape". At least that's what Oscorp, the company building the facility, told everyone. It was right there on the sign in front of the building.

Big words. No one bought it. They all thought the facility was an overpriced monstrosity and there would be a city-destroying catastrophe because of the power plant. There were even people protesting the facility on a daily basis.

During one weekend in New York, I drove a protestor to their segregated "protest spots". After letting her out, another woman stepped into the cab. She noticed the prior passenger's hippie-esque look and protest sign and asked if I knew what the prior passenger was doing. I told her she was going to protest the power plant.

My new rider then identified herself as Joy Mercado of The Daily Bugle. I had heard of The Daily Bugle. I knew they were a tabloid-type newspaper with a very anti-Spider-Man slant. I apologized to her and said that I was new to the area and hadn't had a chance to read her work.

Ms. Mercado then asked me what I thought of the power plant. I told her I had no opinion and New Yorker's problems are New Yorker's problems. I told her I was just an average out-of-towner trying to make an average living in the big city. Just an average guy, doing average things, trying to be average.

But she insisted I give her a quote and said her article deadline was within the hour. Unfortunately, I have a soft spot for writers, especially attractive blonde ones.

Every super-hero has a weakness, right? That's mine.

So I gave Ms. Mercado her quote.

“What do you want me to say? That this is a bad idea? Oh, you do? Fine. This is a bad idea,” said average New York taxi driver, Mike Lortz when asked his thoughts about the power plant.

I have no idea how she matched "Jordi Scrubbings" with "Mike Lortz", but she did. Notice she called me "average" too. She is a witty one.

Unfortunately, my taxi gig didn't last long after the interview. My boss informed me taxi drivers aren't supposed to give interviews because if one taxi driver became a good source, no one would ride in the other taxis. And everyone would be asking taxi drivers for their opinions. The job of a taxi driver is to get people from point A to point B, he said. No one cares if taxi drivers want to see a rain wash all the scum off the streets. It's not their job to philosophize.

He told me 40 years ago some nutjob developed a conscious, stalked a presidential candidate, and then shot a pimp in order to save a runaway. Since then cab drivers don't give interviews.

So I was fired.

I returned to Tampa and haven't made any money since. But I guess I should be happy. I was quoted by The Daily Bugle.

Since I returned from Afghanistan

Has it really been that long?

Seems like yesterday I was flying back from London to Miami - 13 hours cramped in an airplane over the Atlantic. I remember I watched "Wreck It Ralph" on the flight. I watched other movies as well, but I don't remember which.

A year and a few months ago, a TSA security guy in Miami gave me a hard time. I had a long beard and a one-way ticket from Afghanistan. He asked what I did over there. I told him I couldn't tell him. He didn't like that.

Then I told him I wanted to get to Orlando to see my family. He finally let me go.

Jerk.

It was over a year ago that my parents and my nephew greeted me with "Welcome Home" balloons, big hugs, and smiles. My nephew grew a lot over the 14 months I was gone. Unsurprisingly, he has continued to grow since I've been back. I'd be more worried if he stopped.

It was over a year ago that I pulled in to the Sea View Motel in Melbourne Beach, Florida. That was the perfect place to bring life back down to the lowest gear. My only regret is that I didn't spend longer there. The owners were great, the room was great, and the view on the beach was phenomenal. I need to go back.

I would like to make an annual trek to the Sea View Motel, at least for a weekend, just to unwind and reflect on everything I accomplish in a year's time. Sort of like a growth chart. Maybe I will go from one night in the cheapest room to a week in the most expensive as the years go on. That would be growth.

The first months after my return, I lived a nomadic existence. One relative called me a "gypsy". I had everything I needed in my trunk. That was of course, after I traded in my pick-up truck of six years. People ask me how I like driving a smaller car as compared to a full size truck.  To be honest, had I not been gone for 14 months the transition would have been more awkward. But as it was, I only drove my truck for two months before trading it in.

I felt good about that deal as well. Which still strikes me as weird. I am so used to getting fleeced by companies and for a car dealer to give me almost exactly the deal I wanted was an accomplishment. I only had to go up $1,000 or so from my low offer, which was about $5,000 off the marked price. So I walked out with a deal and a new car.

After a summer in over a dozen hotels, several weeks at my grandfather's house, and assorted nights and weekends at other friends' and family's homes, I eventually ended up back in Tampa by the University of South Florida. It was finally time to start my MBA.

I moved into a small student-area apartment in August of 2013. I hadn't lived in a place this small since I was an undergrad over 10 years ago. It was a big step back lifestyle-wise, and the furniture and belongings I had prior to leaving remains in storage. But while I was stepping back with my lifestyle ...

I jumped back into school with both feet, taking six classes in the fall. It was my first semester in college since 2005 - almost eight years. Needless to say, I needed to re-learn how to study. But my skills eventually returned. After a few shaky first tests, I made it through my first semester with 2 A's and 4 B's. Not bad. Especially considering I had never even been introduced to some the material before. And here I was learning at the graduate level.

On a related note, maybe I should have taken a few more business classes as an undergrad. The only class I could identity with was Marketing. I did well in that class. Other classes, such as Accounting, caught me by surprise. The material was so new. I don't want to call myself an old dog, but I am no young pup. I was learning new tricks.

After the fall came the spring semester. More classes. This time I took Finance. Finance killed me. I thought Accounting was hard. Finance was impossible. I got my first ever "C" in college. I know for most, that's not a big deal, but I had never gotten a "C". That's my standard. But Finance just murdered me. But more on that some other time.

Now I am finishing up the summer semester. This semester has been chock full of "analysis". I am taking Financial Analysis, Competitive and Business Intelligence, Digital Marketing, and a CitiGroup Seminar course focusing on anti-money laundering processes. I am also taking an online course through EdX on statistics, basic databases, and baseball analysis. So there is definitely overlap in my coursework with things I have done in the past, whether at work or in my personal time.

At the close of this semester, I will be about half way done with my Master's in Business. I have learned a lot. I'm sure how much is common sense for people in the private sector, but to me, it's been a whole new world.

Hard to believe how much my world has changed since I got back from Afghanistan a little over a year ago.

(And for those curious, I eventually cut the beard.)

The Story of the Sad Giraffe

This is a giraffe.

He is sad.

He liked this blog.

Then the writer of this blog got really really really busy and didn't have time to write anything on the site for nearly a month.

The giraffe got sad.

He died.

The writer of the blog felt really bad and decided to pen an ode to the giraffe who was the blog's biggest fan.

I'm sorry, giraffe.

If I knew you liked to read my blog, I would have written sooner.

I have many unfinished posts in the drafts. Many good ideas that need to be finished.

But I am also taking five classes this semester in business school and am halfway to finishing my MBA.

I need to make the time to write more. I also need to step away from the computer and do non-computer things, like run or lift weights or make jokes or attend a sporting event.

Or find a job. That would be important too.

I feel bad that there might be more giraffes out there who are fiending for more of my illustrious prose.

For the giraffes, this post is for you.

Major sad face.

The annoying trend of phones at concerts

FIX

Regular readers of this site know I am an avid concert-goer. I am at a live music performance at least every other week (gotta leave some time for stand-up comedy and pro wrestling).

By far one of the worst recent trends at concerts is the increasing inclination of concert goers to stick their phones in the air and attempt to record performances.

There is one and only one reason people do this: so they can upload them to YouTube and hope the rest of the fanbase sees their work. I guess they feel they have to put the videos out there for the advancement of the fanbase and maybe the advancement of their ego.

Don't get me wrong, I have no problem with taking a picture of a concert. Although there are professionals that do that better, a self-taken picture at a unique angle makes a nice memento. But taking a picture doesn't last long and the phone or camera is usually back below eye level in a moment or two.

Completely recording performances, on the other hand, has to stop. It is incredibly annoying and serves no purpose.

None.

Take a look at the following videos. Same song, same concert. The first was taken by RockScene.com. The second by some person in the audience.



Pretty professional, no? Sounded good, good view of the whole stage, and not obstructed at all.

Now watch video 2.



Not very good at all. Limited view of the stage. Can't get a view of the performance. Sound is worse. And everyone around also has their phone in the air trying to take video. The other phones are cannibalizing the video.

What is the point of everyone trying to take a video of a concert? Do we really need 500 different YouTube videos of the same song? Do these people really not trust that the performance will be recorded and uploaded by someone who can get a good shot or good location?

Perhaps the people who want a recording can volunteer one person to record the show. That person would bring an HD camera to the show, set up, and record. Then, after the show, they would upload the video to YouTube. If people want to make sure they see it, they can put their email address or phone number on a list and the uploader will ensure the person requesting gets a link.

Sounds ridiculous, right? But so is the plague of recording concerts with phones. Unfortunately, knowing our society's need to video or take photos of everything, I don't think it will ever go away.

Unless Glenn Danzig does something about it.

Weekly Book Update #10

Wow. I haven't done a book update in a while. Not much has changed, to be honest. The novel is still in draft form. I have however sent pitch letters to six agents on April 13. So I guess that is news. I received one rejection letter so far. I will probably wait another week or so before sending a pitch letter to six more agents. I figured doing six every three weeks should increase my odds of hearing from someone.

Then I have to send a sample - most likely the first 30-50 pages. Then the agent has to like that enough to represent me to a publisher. Then the publisher has to read it and mold it into a final publishable version. So we have a ways to go.

But I guess I have taken one small step.

This week's link of inspiration comes from the Co.Create blog by Fast Company. They interviewed best-selling author James Patterson and asked what advice he would give beginning writers and storytellers.

His advice:

• Write Stories the Way People Tell Them


• Make It An Experience


• Short Chapters Keep People Reading


• It Doesn't Have to Be Realistic


• Outline Like Your Book Depends On It


• Be Open To Changes During the Writing


• Write With Confidence, Even If You Don't Feel Confident Yet


• Know Who You Are Writing For And What They Want

I like to think I did that with my novel. At least I hope so.

What do Tampa people support?

Since I've lived in Tampa, I've checked out several local entertainment scenes:

• Baseball - Major League and Minor League
• Pro Wrestling
• Stand-Up Comedy
• Hip-Hop
• Heavy Metal

There are many other scenes throughout Tampa, but these are the ones I can say I know fairly well. Either I've participated or gone to see them often. While these scenes have similar demographics, they also have something else in common.

Lack of Support

Of these, the hip-hop scene probably has the best support. Especially if a national act is involved. If a known entity is performing and local acts are opening, a venue can expect to be sold out or close to it. But without a national act headlining, many local rappers and DJs end up playing for themselves.

The lack of support for baseball has been well documented, especially at the Major League level. Sure, there is a bevy of reasons, and the Rays TV ratings are great, but too often cheers echo in stadiums throughout the Tampa Bay area. Especially in the Minor League parks.

Pro Wrestling used to be huge in Tampa. Back in the day, Tampa was a hotbed of wrestling, where legends such as Dusty Rhodes ran the state. Not only did they pack the Hester Armory near downtown Tampa, but occasionally they even sold out major football stadiums. Now the WWE moved its training to Orlando and the only pro wrestling that performs regularly is the occasional bar show in Ybor City.

The local stand-up comedy scene can be better supported as well. While the Tampa Improv and Side Splitters bring in some great national acts, local comics plying their trade appear in front of 25-50 people at best at open mic and small performances. Sure, Tampa is not on the list of "funniest cities" and I personally need to get on stage more, but when more people come out to shows, more people are motivated to perform and join the scene. That is how communities grow.

As for Heavy Metal, admittedly, I don't know as much as I would like to. I am probably guilty of lack of support. I go to shows, but only when big bands are in town, bands such as Obituary and Cannibal Corpse. I do go to the metal community's annual fundraiser for spaying and neutering stray cats and that is usually a great show packed with the best of Tampa Bay metal. But I could probably do more.

Recently, I have been reading Tampa Metal Review.com, a website that writes about the local metal scene. They do good work interviewing bands, taking pics, and reviewing shows. Last week, however, one of their writers called out the scene for not supporting local bands.

There were probably 40 people there the ENTIRE time! Do you people not realize that we are fortunate enough to see bands like this on a pretty regular basis where as in other parts of the USA even (not including the world) would pay $$$$$ to get in the door to see them?!?! We are talking 10$ and 6$ to get in the door. You can’t save up enough change through the week to come see a band line up like this one? I am a poor college student and I can even do this. And do not tell me Behemoth took all your money either. I truly believe there is a lack of support for bands. I have seen a decline over the past six years and frankly, it turns my stomach. You wonder why these bands bitch? No actually, most of them don’t because they will play for ashtrays anyway because they LOVE what they do!

Playing for ashtrays. I've never heard that before. I like it. I might have to use that one.

I've been in Tampa for eight years and I'm still not sure what the people of Tampa do support. Maybe they (we) just wait for the next big show or event. Maybe the majority of us don't want to bother with local acts and want to see only the brand names.

Tampa isn't known for much nationally. Our high school baseball teams are usually good and we have had dozens of Major Leaguers hail from here. Our metal scene is highly regarded, and some of the best in Death Metal have recorded, if not started here. But both of these scenes suffer from lack of support.

At least we support our local beer makers. We are getting good at that. Too bad our politicians might burst that bubble on us.

But that's a whole other issue.

Safety on the High Seas

Bottles floated along desperate seas
SOSs played the tune of sorrow

For the survivors
Waifs in the waves

Uplifted
Transported to parts unknown

Off to the hinterland
Hindering the lay of the land

They fell
Confused
But completely unharmed

Why would they be where they are?
But where are they, they wondered.
Why?
Where else but right now?
Confused, but completely unharmed.

Make the best of the opportunity
right now.

Feel the rhythm
Feel the groove
The jazz of the city.

One rose to the top
amidst the harbingers of fame
fortune and glory.

Kick rocks.
Shine box.
Shove a man in the trunk if he dares bring up the past.

We are living now!
For the now!
This is ours!

Quiet.

We miss the sea.
Floating.
It was nice there.
Deadly, but nice.
Peaceful.

The city is not peaceful, and not nice either.
Take me back to my biggest fear.

Sharks on the horizon.

The Rhode Island Revolution

While perusing some of my old FSView & Florida Flambeau articles, I found this classic. My first editorial, written in May 2002.

Operation C.O.R.I.

My plan to conquer Rhode Island was born at a time of so many of my other great ideas- during a night of drunken debauchery. I figured there hadn’t been any good insurrections in America in a while, so why not?

Rhode Island was the perfect place to start my revolution, I explained to anyone who would dare listen. It is the smallest state in the union and can’t have that many people to defend it. In addition it is neither a road nor an island. The inhabitants have to call themselves “Islanders” and they don’t even live on an island. Only the all-powerful Man has the power to manipulate people like that. Down with the Man!

I quickly dubbed my plan Operation C.O.R.I. (Conquerors of Rhode Island). All that was needed was some troops. I couldn’t do this alone. My roommate was the first to decline his assistance, and the rest of my friends quickly followed. I would have to look elsewhere. Where was anyone’s sense of adventure?

Using my military background and knowledge of warfare, I knew there were several ways to go about Operation C.O.R.I. We- me and my soon-to-be-legion of followers- could try to invade Rhode Island by force ourselves or we could get the local populace to rise up against their oppressors like the United States did in Afghanistan. Since I didn’t (and still don’t) have the financial backing to buy weapons of mass destruction, psychological warfare would have to be the way to go.

More beer led to the idea that my band of rebels would need Viking helmets, since no invasion is complete without Viking helmets. I knew there was even a store in the Governor’s Square Mall that could supply us with these helmets, as well as swords, battle-axes, and armor. Everything a good invasion needed.

My crew would also need a Volkswagen bus. You can’t make an interstate trek without a VW bus. Before we depart we would need to paint revolutionary slogans on the side of the bus. I came up with two on the spot: “You’re not a road! You’re not an island! You’re not sheep! Stand Defiant!” and “Hey Providence! We are Anti-Dominance!” Finally, we needed plenty of flyers calling the people to action and signs for us to hold in protest in front of the Rhode Island capital building.

I concluded my riotous rhetoric by claiming that even if the operation was a failure, we couldn’t get in any trouble. After all, protesting the oppression of the Rhode Island people was perfectly within our First Amendment rights. It was up to the people to decide whether or not to rise up.

Even now, I don’t know what we would have done with Rhode Island if my plan were a success. I guess I would try my hand in national representation and become Supreme Ruler of the Land Formerly Known as Rhode Island. But how would I govern a million ex-Rhode Islanders? What if I had to defend against an insurrection? The whole thing seems like too much work. Maybe I just need to think less when I go out drinking.

The Best of Times

It finally happened. Kinda.

Today I read a very creative and witty article by a writer for my former college newspaper, the FSView & Florida Flambeau. In his piece, The Great War: Logos, Uniforms, and Fear, FSView sports editor Perry Kostidakis comments and parodies the divide in Florida State fans, alumni, and students over the newly revealed Seminole logo.

The whole article is great and it's obvious Kostidakis had fun writing it. But one part stood out.

Midway through the article, Kostidakis references Dr. Seuss's Butter Battle Book.

 He screams, “Here’s the end of that terrible town! Full of ’Noles who like logos that frown!”

And, suddenly, at the very instant we heard a klupp-klupp of feet on the wall and a older man climbs up! The boys in HIS back room have made him one too! In his fist was another IgnitionTradition!

“I’ll blow you,” he yelled, “into pork and wee beans! I’ll tomahawk chop all of you small teens!”

“Grandpa!” I shouted. “Be careful! Oh, gee! Who’s going to drop it? Will you…? Or will he…?

“Be patient,” said Grandpa. “We’ll see. We will see…”

Genius.

After I read the article, I contacted Kostidakis on twitter to tell him I enjoyed his article and that I appreciated his reference of one of my favorite books. He was kind enough to reply.

@JordiScrubbings you are my hero for recognizing it

— Perry Kostidakis (@perrykos) April 13, 2014

Granted, "hero" was tongue-in-cheek, and only contained to the fact that I recognized his reference. I doubt Kostidakis has read any of my work, and I doubly doubt he has perused the FSView archives to find my ancient articles. I also can't say I have read much of his work either, so I can't tell whether this was a rare showing of creativity, or whether he thinks out of the box often. A quick Google search shows his YouTube page does show originality and his article about his mother is extremely powerful.

But it is his "hero" comment that reminded me of this - one of my final articles for the FSView. Originally written on 6/19/2003.

The Best of Times

One phrase I have heard time and time again is that my college years would be the best years of my life. Well, now that they are over, I guess it’s all downhill from here.

Soon my time at the FSView & Florida Flambeau will end. Currently, I have no idea what the future will bring. But seeing that the best years of my life are past, will it really matter? No matter where I go and no matter what I do, all I have to look forward to is 60 or so years of looking back at past glory. Looking back at a time when I was at the top of my game.

A time when I was a writer and then editor at the FSView & Florida Flambeau.

“He was the greatest,” many said. “Witty and creative. Truly a pleasure to read.”

Others, of course, disagreed, proving the old adage “you can’t please all the people all the time.” They called me “pathetic,” said I needed therapy and even labeled me extremely unethical. But their jeers were often drowned out by lengthy applause and accolades.

Barring a response from any of the employers I have so far contacted, I plan to be living in a cardboard box behind Wal-Mart by the middle of August. Hopefully I can find a box big enough to fit me, my college diploma and a few copies of Home and Garden Magazine (for the homemaker in us all).

Life will surely continue down the slippery slope towards obscurity in 2004. By mid-year, liquor store employees across the capital city will know me by name and bartenders will have “the usual” set in front of “Mike’s seat” moments before I walk in.

As the years move on, so too will I, wondering the empty roads, telling anyone who will listen about my days at Florida State. I will be a shell of my once proud and accomplished self. Hair down to my ankles, clothes made stiff by grime, I will drift across the nation. Washing dishes in Topeka so that I can travel to Seattle. Panhandling in New York to get to Los Angeles.

I might even make as far north as Alaska and live in the wilderness like Ted Kaczynski or Eric Rudolph.

But wherever I go, I know I will hear the whispers.

“Isn’t that Mike Lortz?” they will ask each other. “I heard he was once a great and powerful writer. A writer that could slay armies single handedly and have lightning bolts shoot out of his eyes. Yet he doesn’t look eight feet tall.”

Then, one day, many, many years from now, I will make my way to the town that made me so briefly famous – Tallahassee. There, a young FSView & Florida Flambeau writer will approach me and ask how he or she can make the jump from a good writer to a great one in order to win the coveted “Mike Lortz Writer of the Year Award.”

“Is it true you were hired by the legendary Chris Townsend and worked alongside the great Khuong Phan?” he or she will ask.

“Ah yes,” I will recall. “But don’t forget I spent most of my time under the watchful eye of Joe Friedman. Those were my glory days. My college years. The best years of my life.”

“Wow, Mr. Lortz, you truly are a legend. I want to be just like you.”

Kids are the new chimps

A few days ago, I wrote about how many creative grown-ups are looking at kids for inspiration. The popular consensus is that kids are more creative than adults, so why not dip into their well for something different?

In the 70s and 80s, the powers that be in television used chimps for comic value, as they were something different. There is still few things better than watching a chimp act like an adult human. They provided a new angle at our own actions. They allowed us to laugh at ourselves and our own situations acted out by something that normally would not fit the role. They were familiar, so we could relate, but unique.

Nowadays, the "in" thing to do is use kids voices over adult actions. It is funny. The folks at Kid Snippets have created a hilarious YouTube channel of adults acting out kid-narrated scenarios. Again, it provides the ability for us to look at familiar scenarios as see how another entity would act in these roles. Or in the case of the kid narration, what kids would say in these roles. The awkwardness provides the humor and a sense of "differentness".

Here is a funny one called "Salesman". Note the randomness and stream of consciousness.

Kids. They're the new chimps.