...post #496 on the soapbox...

I have an announcement to make.

I've decided to End "Flash's Life Story...Unscripted" as of post #500. I've had a great run and it's nice milestone number to end on.

Back in the day, I enjoyed writing my thoughts down and sharing them. But as time has crawled on, I feel like I've said what I needed to. Now, to keep this updated feels more like a "Chore", and that's why I've decided to end it. Because if you feel forced to do something, it's no fun. And life keeps me moving, which is good. But weeks will go by before even the thought of the blog pops in my head, and that's a sign of not being on the forefront of my life anymore. Plus, my standard hosting site closed down that held all my graphics and java scripts and such, so when I changed it over, it messed up my coding, deleted some things, made my cool scrolling bar not scroll. It was a sign of things to come I guess.

Then the guilt of not visiting others. Friends who've read mine.

So the "Unscripted" part of my life must have a "The End" posted. Plus, as I've screamed and expressed my rage over things like Twitter, the argument being "Who gives a shit what I have to say at any given time" makes me somewhat of a hypocrite in a way because I've had this blog.

Same thing, just a lot more then 140 characters allowed.

And I'll try to make the last 3 posts rock. Maybe a nice 2-3 part "flash back", go out with a bang. Or maybe just give personal goodbye and slink away like a ninja.

Either way, it will be from the heart.

Flash

...hi, you don't know me, but...

To know someone and to "know" someone are two different things. Everyone knows someone, but do you really know them?

Here's what I mean.

To know someone is to know the facts. Age, race, sex, type of car they drive, what they do for a living. Simple memorization.

To "know" someone is to know the subtleties about them. Like their favorite comfort food when they're down or what type of music they prefer when doing certain routine tasks. Or even what they like done to them.

I'll present an example.

I like pizza. I like Frank Sinatra. I like my back scratched. People who know me know this about me.

But people who "know me" know I like super thin crust pizza from one particular place, know I only listen to Sinatra while cooking or playing pool, and know that although I do like my back scratched, the middle, right below my neck will send shivers down my spine.

Sometimes, people think that knowing and "knowing" are one in the same.

I had a close friend once who did. I felt like she just memorized the facts about me, relaying them back when asked or when she deemed it appropriate to try and woo me over. Sweet as it was, the fact that she was trying, it became annoying after a while when the question came up "Wanna grab something to eat" and I would basically get all my favorite foods read back to me.

It was like a robot. So eager to please.

I found myself changing up the answers on her, just to throw her a curveball to make her stop and think for a second. "Yeah, I do love pizza, but I'm in the mood for some baked authentic pasta."

The greatest example of this that I can share is the following:

I love hockey jerseys. And at the time, I loved one particular team. As a gift, she had gotten me their practice jersey, and had "Flash" lettered across the back with my number. Although I did love the gift immensely and still have it to this day, she based the gift off of the "facts" and not really off "knowing me". Because if she would of "known me" she would of known that, although I do go by the name "Flash" 99.9% of the time in my life, when it comes to hockey jerseys, I prefer my real last name to bestow the shoulder crest. To me, it's a sign of honor to have my real name above my numbers.

Sometimes you have to listen besides just memorizing.

So get to "know" someone today. Ask them a very specific question about themselves.

You may be surprised that the metal-head your talking to actually enjoys country music while showering.

Flash

...yeah? Balance this!...

While at a friend's concert yesterday, I was talking to someone, when I went off on one of my famous rants. I'm known for these, because I'll start off on one subject and by the time I'm out of breath, I'm cursing a whole other thing not even closely related to the original subject of said rant. They've been called the ADDRants, because they never focus on one thing. My most famous one was started on a channel on television and somehow ended with me screaming about how I should have to watch my language at a hockey play off game because there are some kids near by. (Don't get me started on that one)

And after one of rants that started on the stupidity of a rain stick as a musical instrument and ended up supporting the choice of wear of the Oboist in the front row (Oboes and cleavage. Now that's music!), a friend turned to me and says "You are a perfect Yin Yang. You're the coolest, calmest, collected person I know, but can fire off in an instant!"

So during the Hour and a half boring drive home, I had time to think about if the statement is actually true. And I compiled a list if the Yin/Yangs in my life.

YIN: I am an awesome cook and can rock a kitchen.
YANG: I can't rise bread for shit. I can use the freshest ingredients, and follow it to a "T", but my breads never rise. I would kill to be able to make a decent Italian loaf or French Baguette, but by the time it's done cooking, it's hard and flat.

YIN: I love the art of film and everything associated with the creation of it.
YANG: Anything I create, I ahte showing to people, essentially defeating the whole purpose of film making.

YIN: I love watching movies in a theater experience.
YANG: I hate going to theaters. Idiots and Cell Phones have annihilated the movie going experience for me. So much so that I've already started modifying a room of my house into an actual movie theater. Just so I don't have to deal with others.

YIN: I'll open my bedroom windows in the middle of winter and get the room down to near pipe freezing level and sleep in nothing but board shorts.
YANG: I hate being cold, so I'll sleep with 3 comforters and a down blanket.
YANG 2: I hate sweating, so most of the blankets end on tossed to the side, repeating the cycle. I'm pretty sure any sleep I do get is a form of near death hypothermia.

YIN: Love music. It sets my day, and I have "soundtracks" for whatever I'm doing.
YANG: I hate it live.

YIN: I know how to basically rebuild anything in the house, and have the tools to do so.
YANG: I usually get board halfway through and leave the project unfinished till I have forcefully made myself finish it.
YANG 2: As soon as it's done, I'm looking for the next project, repeating the cycle ad nausea.

YIN: I don't give a rats ass of what people think of me.
YANG: Yet I take pride in what I wear and how I act in public when I leave the house.

YIN: I love kids.
YANG: The thought of paying and changing diapers sickens me to the point where I never want to have them.

Anyone else got the Yin/Yang's?

...it's not you, it's me, and him, and her, and him...

I got the feeling that I'm the messed up one in this world.

Because lately, I've been surrounded with, what I think is pure stupidity. In every form. From personal decisions to what to wear to living situations, I have been unable to escape it. It's even in the family.

Just this past weekend, I was forced to sit and endure the ramblings of life by people. I had to listen to them brag about choices, embellish stories, their thought process about decision making. And on the way home, sitting in traffic at 1am (only in Chicago), I got to thinking.

What if it's me? What if I'm the odd ball in this world?

Everyone's been in this situation, where you're out with friends, talking, and their telling you something about their personal life or what they bought or something like that. Then you get in the car to go home and turn to another friend and go "God. What the hell were they thinking! That's so stupid!" And you make it a point not to follow in their footsteps. But you usually get relief from that later on when the same friends tell you another plan of their life and you totally agree with it.

That's the Yin and Yang of Stupidity.

But lately, there's been no Yang. I get a face full of stupidity, then turn for relief, and get more. But it seems that the people who are throwing these fresh baked nuggets of WTF are happy. Or just good showmen about it. Because they're all smiles.

So it just caused me to think that maybe I'm the oddball. Because I wouldn't choose to live their lives instead of mine, yet they're all happy, and I'm miserable going through a life transition.

So maybe it is me. Maybe I'm the 3.2 in a group of 1's. Or maybe this is normal, and the people walk away from me and go "What the hell is he thinking! That's so stupid!" I think that might be more it. Everyone's way is the right way and those who don't follow are stupid.

So maybe I'm not the oddball after all...

Maybe, I'm normal...

Well, now that just scares the hell out of me.

Flash

...and a tablespoon of roasted elephant balls...

Fuck plating.

Yeah, I said it. It's a lame ass concept I will fight till the day I'm dead in my kitchen. As a chef, saying "fuck plating" is like a graphic artist shooing away the Pantone book. But I don't care.

For those of you who don't know, the art of plating is essentially making your food look good on a plate for presentation. Most people have seen it, the cooking shows on TV, where they take a plate that cost more then your car payment an puts a dollop of eggplant and a smear of chocolate sauce and a tablespoon of sautéed panda groin on some broad leaf that came from a single plant in South Africa. All so judges can look at it like it's art.

Which is fine if no one was going to eat it!

As soon as you dig into that plate, the art is gone! Just a few days ago, I was watching one of those cooking competitions where for some reason plating is calculated into your score. And this young up and coming chef made, as the judges said, the best Mac and Cheese they had ever tasted. They raved and raved about it for 5 minutes. But when it came down to judging time, he lost, and the first prize was awarded to a guy who's food was described as "good, but too salty", all because he plated it to look like some piece of art. Sure, creative, but useless in the overall sense.

Here, I'll prove it.

Think about the greatest burger you had ever eaten in your life. I mean life-altering taste. The kind of burger you rave about for 50 years and tell everyone you know. Got that burger in the mind? Wipe your mouth, you're drooling.

I'll betcha 99% of those burgers were served in a cheap plastic basket with fries dumped next to it. Or even on some plate but nothing short of a stock plastic restaurant cheapie plate.

I understand that looks matter. It's a sad fact we have to deal with on everything. And I do agree that food should look good, but ultimately, it's for the tongue, not the eyes. The greatest burger I ever ate was served in a sports bar. The best sandwich was rolled in deli paper and eaten while sitting on a cooler. There wasn't a sprig or a dollop or a smear of anything except the runoff on my shirt. And you know what? Those are the places that never go under in a recession. Cause they care about taste and not looks.

Plating. Such a waste. Maybe because I'm not creative in the design process. Or maybe I cook for the everyday person with realistic expectations. Either way, it's stupid in the art of cooking. Because a shitty tasting cut of beef still tastes like shit if it's on a $200 triangular plate.

Actually, I think it tastes worst.

So come on down to Flash's, where food critics are kicked in the ass, exotic ingredients left at the door, and food worthy of remembering 50 years down the road is served on plastic plates.

...it means unemployable in Chinese...

I always ponder the personal choices people make, and wonder if they’re looking any farther then 10 minutes from now when making them.

Case and point:

I was speaking to a friend this past weekend who introduced me to another person. In speaking with this guy, I learned he studied business management in college, but dropped out in his 3^rd year.

Sounds normal, right?

After speaking a bit more, he asked what I do for a living, and I told him about my film studio and what I do. Then I reversed the question onto him. He answered “Right now I do janitorial work at the school, but I’m trying to make my college work for me and get into business management, something like a bank or financial institution.”

I couldn’t help myself, when my mouth just blurted out “Really?”

Because the guy standing in front of me had half a naked women tattooed on one side of his neck, and what appeared to be a spider web on the other that reached up to his jaw line. His ear lobes were stretched out to the point you could slide a golf ball through the holes, and the Pièce de Résistance was a small skull with blood running from it’s skull on the back of neck, nestled under a shaven patch of hair.

Look, I know the saying “Don’t judge a book by its cover”, and I agree. The guy standing in front of me could have been the next Steve Jobs. But the fact of the matter is that places are going to judge you.

If the guy had said “Tattoo artist” or “Freelance Graphic artist” or “Oil Change guy”, I would have shrugged it off. But to say you want to work in the financial institution sector with what could be considered offensive art growing out of your neck area?

I’m all for personal style, and I love to see what people do to their bodies. But there has to be some thought of your life before going under the needle. Something like “Well, I got a degree in Medicine, top of my class, going to be a doctor soon…Maybe I shouldn’t get the massive tattoo across the side of my neck and skull…Lets just do the arm then.”

Lets say you were in the hospital, going for a major surgery, and your doctor walks in the room, and looks like this:

Tell me you wouldn’t feel a bit queasy about giving him a scalpel and cutting into your brain. He may be the best neurosurgeon in the world, but if he looks like a convict…

And all these “kids” who think it’s cool to stretch out the ear lobes. Yeah, it is. Now. 3 years down the road, it won’t be relevant anymore. Then what? You’re stuck with massively stretched earlobes. Good luck going into an interview for a $75,000 a year position at some top-notch firm. You may be the most qualified for the position, but they are not hiring someone who’s going to make their clients talk and question the quality of people hired. And yes, I know there’s the handful of people who manage to slip through the cracks, but they are not you.

All I’m saying is to stop and think for that split second before the piercer sticks the spacer through the lobe, or before the first needle marks your neck. Just think, 3 or 5 years down the line what you want out of life, and be realistic about it. And if your goals will not be reasonably hindered by graphic permanently burned into your neck for all the world to see at all times, then go for it.

But if your 35, with a master’s degree and mopping the floor at a fast food place, wondering why you haven’t been able to get a decent high paying job, well, then…

Maybe that “personal expression” from 8 years ago is holding you back.

The world sucks, and we’re judged for everything about us. As much as they tell us to be individuals, they really are just looking for the sheep.

...HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE ZABC...

Yep. It’s been a year since I launched the controversial Shirt designs dedicated to the undead supporting breast cancer.

But a year ago this month, the Zombies Against Breast Cancer, or ZABC, shirts went up for sale. You buy the shirt or poster, and I donated every penny to organizations that help support the cure for this horrible disease.

Cause for this breast lover, that’s the worst kind.

I started the designs in support of 3 very special ladies in my life, 2 of which have lost their breasts to this horrible disease, and one who carries the genes for it to happen. This has affected my grandmother, my dear friend Kim and her mother, and I wanted to join the fight.

But I needed something different, to stand out.

The Pink is fine, but I wanted to get more guys into the fight. To open it up to different groups. To stand out. And what’s better to fight the battle?

Zombies.

And so it began. The ZABC was born, and our Mascot, the Walker, was born. Set in Pink, against a black or white backdrop, the zombie stood tall. The ribbon was distressed, damaged, but still standing proud, showing that no matter how tough the fight, we will continue the support.

It won the approval of the guys, and the hearts of the girls. And the first designs went online, to be met with some resistance. I received emails proclaiming “How can I use the Macabre to support a cause?” and my favorite is “Walking Dead for the cure is an insult, because you’re basically saying we’re all dead!”

There will always be haters, even if the cause is genuine.

In the first 2 months, I sold 9 shirts and 4 posters, a fantastic start in my eyes. I turned the royalty check over to my friend Kim and told her to send it to her Favorite Best Cancer organization.

Then in November, someone purchased a large quantity of items. Word got out, because after that purchase, my items were selling fast. The royalty check was substantial, and was donated, along with a “walking shirt” to wear, to a girl who was planning the Avon Breasts Cancer walk next year, helping her get a great start on her minimum donation requirement.

Since then, the ZABC has been shambling on, selling items every month, with the royalties being pooled to be donated.

I know some of my readers have helped out, and I cannot thank them enough. I wish for everyone to spread the word about the ZABC. Help support this fantastic cause!

Walk Dead for the Cure!

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