A 2016 blog sampler with links to share

Three of my most popular and well-received posts from 2016 were heartfelt eulogies to dead friends.

So if you’re a friend of mine and you happen to expire before me, rest in peace knowing I’ll be happy to boost my readership by opining on your life and death.

The most newsworthy death was that of Arnold Palmer. My story in two days became one of my top 10 all-timers and was widely quoted in social media and in a few mainstream publications. I was pleased because I sensed the story would be widely read so the stakes felt high, well, high for a no-account/no pay blog like mine at least. I was particularly pleased to learn friends at the Palmer offices told me mine was one from among the thousands of global eulogies they chose to .

We were saddened but only a little surprised to learn of the death of Jerry Palmer, Arnold’s brother, just 55 days later. Here, again, I was touched by the compliments of family members who reached out to tell me they were buoyed by my recollections of their loved ones.

It may surprise those who knew either of the Palmers, but the death of our good friend Dow Carnahan may have shaken the community most of all. Dow was a beloved and respected local radio announcer who bestowed Latrobe with a grace and eloquence worthy of far more populace places. And, man, he was just a great guy. I tried to craft my thoughts on his sudden passing with great care and heart because that’s the way Dow did everything. We miss him so much.

Amidst these traumas we had — yippee! — the most tumultuous political season of our lives. And our town became Ground Zero for the Trump movement when an enthusiast transformed a nearby rental property into what became known around the world as the Trump House. I am in the hometown minority in that I find Trump obnoxious. So taking a side in the debate was potentially risky. There was a chance I’d alienate friends and readers. But I often feel obliged to weigh in on controversies just because to do otherwise feels cowardly. I think this post succeeded in that it got my points across without disrespecting those who disagreed. I’d like to thank each of them for both being open-minded to my views and not shooting me during the Happy Hour. At least, not yet.

Understand, it always pains me to feel compelled to write on any topic that might sadden or unsettle even one reader. It makes me so happy — and I hear it all the time — when readers tell me the whole reason they read the blog is to feel better. So my favorites will always involve offbeat silliness, like this October one that explains that the Wazoo & Ying Yang are NOT Chinese rivers.

I guess if I was restricted to one topic it wouldn’t be food, booze, politics or journalism or books even. It would be music. I like to write about music because it engages so many readers who have real passion. I found that out in January when I wrote this one about the day I told our 9th grader why The Stones are better than The Beatles.

This one about Erin Andrews drew a lot of readers and positive comment. Lots of people liked my take on what I’d say to her if she were my daughter.

I strive for originality, for topics and humor you can’t find anywhere else. I often fall short. I thought this one was hit the originality mark. It asks what you’d do if you were forced to decide between taking a pill that ended your need to sleep or one that ended your need to eat.

Putting a humorous twist on obscure history always feels like a blog job well done — and I was careful to ensure “blog job” was not marred by an unfortunate typo. I was fascinated to learn about Eddie Klep, who broke the color barrier by being the first white man to play in the Negro Leagues. 

I try not to write too much about anyone topic, but I could write at least once a week about my Mom. This was a particularly topical year with us moving her out to live nearer to us. This one is from February when I felt compelled to tell her I was quitting the imaginary job I told her I had at a local hardware store.

It is likely to my detriment I’m not even more obnoxious about hawking my books on the blog. But I think everyone’s well-aware I’m eager to sell my books, “Last Baby Boomer” in particular, and do not need the fact shoved down their throats. So when I do write about the books I try to do so tangentially, as I did in this one from earlier this month about someone commenting my book should weigh more.

I intend to write tomorrow about what a crapfest 2016 was for me, at least, and for all the people who’ll now have the number etched on their tombstones, but that goes without saying.

I summarize blog highlights here and now in the hopes you’ll share this with friends who might benefit from an overview of what readers might expect when they check out www.EightDaysToAmish.com

Thank you — each of you — for even taking a moment in ’16 to check out the blog. I’m very gratified by all the interest and hope you’ll help make ’17 a gangbuster year for this feisty little bugger.

And I mean the blog, not me.

A '15 blog retrospective to enjoy and share

I have friends who say they disdain any re-runs. This drives me lower case insane.

Do they expect me to every day do for free something original? Heck, even the otters at SeaWorld get rewarded with an anchovy per trick.

So I’m at peace with dropping re-runs in here and there. Plus, some are becoming traditional. They still re-run “It’s a Wonderful Life” at Christmas, don’t they?

The last three months saw a surge of new readers. This retrospective is aimed at those new friends and anyone who wants to encourage folks to give the blog a try.

It’s just a monthly sampler from ’15. And, of course, anyone who wants access to more than 100 categorized posts can just visit the www.EightDaysToAmish.com homepage. Obsessives can create and distribute their own lists!

I’ll try and come up with something fresh tomorrow, but I can’t guarantee it.

Enjoy your Sunday and . . . Go Steelers! (and Bills …)

January — “Well-rounded thoughts on purchasing new tires”  … Like my career, my vehicle has become a punch-line. This one’s includes environmental nuggets about tire recycling and my solutions to tire waste.

February — “I’m getting paid to talk to 8th graders” … One of the great things about my new opportunities as a motivational speaker is when unusual options come in unbidden. For instance, I never dreamed I’d be paid to talk to 8th graders.

March — “Do friends extend lives? Not friends like mine” … This one is in response to a study that declared friends are essential to a long life. Obviously, this is a rebuke, albeit a joyful one.

April — “Tom Sawyer ejaculates! And when word meanings change” … Words, their meanings and their origins have always fascinated me. This tips the hat to that affinity.

May — “When Jesus returns, will He wear a bow tie?” … Quirky fashions and religious devotions, this one wrote itself.

June — “I am being evicted from The Pond” … What a tumultuous year it was for my office. Being evicted was a real bummer. Hated it. But with this one I tried to put a good face on it by embracing change.

July — “The story of my webbed toes and other human deformities” … Many people ask me, “Say, did that really happen? Did you really tell someone you had webbed toes?” Of course, I did. I love enlivening the day with these kinds of shenanigans.

August — “Jaffre’s opens today at the Tin Lizzy!” … My stats page said locals really ate this one about local restaurant news up.

September — “Pope re-gifts an $8 million Bible” … The pope visit was such a rich topic for me. I have a friend who says he hates it whenever I dabble in religion. That’s a pity because I love to write about religion.

October — “Jonesin’ for Xarelto: The new Arnold Palmer ad” … This would be one of my favorites if for no other reason than it let me tell the story about what Palmer said when I proposed he wrestle his friend Clint Eastwood.

November — “Abe Vigoda is still alive! (for now)” … Great reaction to this one, so much so I hope to write the Abe-Vigoda-is-still-alive story for the next five years.

December — “The divisive Paul McCartney Christmas song” — Writing this one taught me Sir Paul’s earned $15 million from a song it took him one afternoon to write and that many, many people really hate this song.

Re-Run Sunday: Lying about my blog's birthday

My blog turned 6 this week and I think it’s about time I start lying about its age. Six in blog years seems like 50 in human years. And if you’re 50 and still haven’t done any thing substantial then it’s just sad.

Take it from me!

But I know enough people enjoy the blog that if I quit now it’d be like I’m letting down humanity.

Well, 0.0000000000001 percent of humanity.

Here’s the blog post from 2013 when I admitted that I’ve already been lying about the blog’s birthday. I thought it’d be more cool if I said it was born the same day as Bob Dylane. Tune in 2015 when it’s likely I’ll say the blog’s just turned 2!

Have a great day!

(642 words)

You’re probably unaware of the vanity, but for the past two years this blog has been lying about its age.

It says it’s younger than it really is.

By one day.

See, my very first blog was posted on May 23, 2008. But two years ago, the blog started declaring its birthday was May 24, 2008.

Really, I shouldn’t blame the blog. It was all my idea. I was scratching around for a topic when I noticed Bob Dylan’s birthday was the day after the blog’s. I thought it would be fun to co-opt the coincidence. It resulted, I thought, in a good birthday blog in 2011 (all links listed below).

So I’ve been blogging for five years. This is my 956th post and I’ll likely hit a milestone 1,000 sometime in August.

Let’s say each post takes about two hours to write, polish and present. That’s about 2,000 hours or 83 days.

I enjoy blogging so much I figure I could probably blog for 83 days straight without taking a break to eat or sleep. But by the fifth day keyboard-clogging drool puddles would probably render the experiment moot.

I once compared blogging to having a goofy imaginary friend with multiple dependency issues. You can’t abandon it for too long or it might die from lack of attention. But like having a needy friend, you spend a lot of time wondering if the damn thing’s holding you back from more productive pursuits and wondering if, geez, would anyone really care if the SOB just up and died?

I now understand that’s untrue.

Many people I know would be very upset if this SOB just up and died. They love reading the blog, which is now getting about 5,000 unique page views a month and is enjoyed all over the world in more than 146 countries.

Those are healthy numbers for an enigmatically titled blog that flits from topic-to-topic with whimsical indiscretion.

Cruel experience and natural disposition lead me to come at every self-analysis from self-deprecatory grounds. The blog and my book, “Use All The Crayons!” are changing all that.

There’ve been many, many times over the past five years when I’ve wondered if this is all worth it. I now conclude that, yes, it is. I say this even though the blog remains a perennial deadbeat in earnings. 

Cornerstone advice we give to all our children is that they should spend their lives finding something to do that makes them happy and then dedicate themselves to getting good at it.

I believe I’ve reached that point with my otherwise pointless blog musings.

I cherish every compliment, but one from an influential British writer was the kind I’d craft about myself for purely promotional purposes. Out of the blue and unbeknownst to me, she wrote on her Twitter account: 

“Very few undiscovered gems left, but the writer Mr. Rodell (@8Days2Amish) is one of them. He’s odd, but he’s hilarious. And he can really write.”

It’s the kind of thing that leads me to believe I’ll someday evolve into a discovered gem and I hear there’s real money in that kind of thing.

Either way, we’re not going anywhere. If anything, the blog might become even more robust with plans progressing for a podcast and -- who knows? -- perhaps a best-of book down the road after the appearance of post no. 1,000, as good a time as any for a compendium.

I promise I’ll try and keep the blog fresh and lively and deserving of your scrutiny. I ask in return you refer it to friends whenever you find it worthy. That kind of word-of-mouth promotion is priceless.

And because I understand no one comes here for mawkish sentiments, here is an entirely random sampling of 10 of my favorites from the past five years. 

Related . . .

Happy Birthday to Bob Dylan & my blog! -- From May 2011. 

Miss America & me -- In May 2011, I was getting regular calls from Miss America Teresa Scanlan. Was I going to keep that to myself? Hell, no.

Cigar store ambiance enhanced by breasts -- I went for a friendly Saturday cigar smoke and lo and behold breasts appeared. From April 2009.

Now they’ve ruined jukeboxes -- Includes my ten favorite jukebox songs. From August 2011, I’m still sad over what’s happening to old tavern jukeboxes.

It’s a bobblehead world -- I hear from so many people who say they love it when I write about the bar. The Pond’s great, but I’ll bet there are bars just like it in every town in America. Go see for yourself. This is from April 2012.

Arrivederci, Ann Curry -- People have been writing about Matt Lauer’s sinking popularity all year. I stopped writing about it since this one from June of last year when I think I nailed it.

A galling story on useless body parts -- Stories about anatomical oddities always fascinate me. This one’s about my friend Joe coming back from his Oct. 2012 vacation without his gallbladder.

Don’t hate me ‘cause I’m beautiful -- Still gets a bunch of hits and a lovely picture of Ines Sainz. From Sept. 2010.

Mime, all mime -- I liked this one from Feb. 2012 if for no other reason than it includes the line, “Careful mimes can be safe, but never sound.”

My gay friend John -- Google “My gay friend John” and this is the first thing that pops. It didn’t have much of a readership when it first ran in Oct. 2011, but is now on track to be one of my most popular. Just about every hour, someone somewhere is reading this all over the world.

Tech troubles & why I post when I do

(895 words)

I've long said being a freelance writer is like being adrift in a rubber raft in storm-tossed waters far out at sea. There is isolation and often grave concern.

And that being a freelance writer with tech problems is like being in that rubber raft and suddenly hearing an urgent hiss.

It's deflating in every sense of the word.

This week I'm hearing the hiss. It's my turn for computer troubles.

That explains why I didn't post anything Thursday or Friday.

Well, that and March Madness. Those are two of my favorite days of the year, so I probably wouldn't have filed anything Thursday.

This is upsetting to some of my friends. They enjoy reading the blog and not having it show up with the frequency they've come to expect is unsettling.

It's unsettling to me, too. If I don't post at least four times a week I fear people will stop paying attention and will get out of the habit so they can devote more time to priority porn.

What's surprising is how many readers complain if I miss a day or do something that makes it look like I slept in a bit.

It's like they think I'm cheating the boss like I used to when I was earning an actual paycheck to write way back in 1992. People seem to forget I don't earn a dime for blogging.

It's the reason I used to say blogging was the journalistic equivalent of running a lemonade stand. Then it dawned on me that even 8 year olds who run lemonade stands have the good sense to at least charge a quarter for lemonade.

I heard from one friend the other day and he began complaining that I'm posting too late in the day to suit him.

"You make a big deal about being at your office at 6 a.m. to write the thing and how it only takes you an hour or two to write it, but then it doesn't post until 2 p.m. What the hell?"

He's correct. It is my custom to crawl out of bed and be here at the office before many roosters rise.

I do this because I think I write best when my mind's good and cloudy. If, say, I started at 10 a.m., my mind would be functioning logically and I'd realize what a folly it is to devote so much time to writing for free.

Reader tip: I think it helps if you're foggy-minded when you read it, too. A clear, sharp mind is a brute impediment to enjoying so much of life's wonder and whimsy.

Many mornings I'll have a good head of steam up and will have to shut it all down and go drive Josie to school. And I love doing that because it gives me the opportunity to incrementally brainwash her with music she won't hear anywhere else.

So some mornings I get the blog done and ready to go at about 10.

I'd post it right then and there, if only I had wifi access. I do not.

So I go for a walk. Then I go to the Giant Eagle and get a salad and maybe some soup or lunchmeat for a sandwich.

That puts me home at about 11:30. I often file then, but if there are some compelling lunatics competing for that day's Showcase Showdown on "The Price is Right" I'll watch. Then Val and I will have lunch and watch something.

So now a blog that's been done for nearly four hours is still not filed.

During all this distraction, it's never once occurred to me that there are gainfully employed people out there staring forlornly at their computer screen and refreshing it over and over waiting for a something new to appear.

It's very odd.

It's not like I'm issuing gangbuster stock tips.

But it's becoming clear some readers are at 11:50 impatiently staring at some two-day old post and thinking, "That Rodell bastard is probably right now watching Amber reveal some Showcase to Tahiti and shouting, '$22,500! $22,500!' like Ben from Modesta can hear him through the TV. And here I sit waiting to read if he'll today share his thoughts on the human nose being capable of differentiating between one trillion different scents. Jerk."

If you do feel that way, here are some suggestions: Go read some of the older posts. There are more than 1,000 of them. Or diminish the anxiety by calling some old friends and telling them you missed them and had time to kill because the blog you look forward to may be experiencing either technical difficulties or is communing with Drew Carey.

Or maybe you'd better think about calling a competent psychiatrist.

You can tell him or her about the blog, too!

Me, I'll be spending another day calling on tech gurus and hoping to figure out what's wrong with my 2009 MacBook Pro. 

I wrote this on my wife's generic and it gave me fits, which I'll use an excuse for why this post lacks some of usual tightness to which I aspire.

Either way, come Monday or Tuesday we'll have that hole patched and we'll get back to paddling on this endless voyage to nowhere.

It's great knowing so many of you are along for the ride.

Related . . .

Tech troubles plaguing lauded blog . . . this one!

Mom struggles with new remote

Re-Run Sunday: Insights on eyeballs

Sometimes I have a strategic reason for choosing a Sunday rerun. Sometimes the reason is whimsical or nostalgic. No real reason for this one. It’s just one I liked from June 2011. Thanks, as always, for reading and sharing when worthy!

Saying a story in the New York Times “caught my eye” makes it sound like the headline reached out and snatched an eyeball right out of my head.

That’s never happened, but if diminishing eye function trends continue we may one day see strangers thanking one another for snagging their eyes moments before they rolled away into city sewers.

Pretty women will shy away from wearing eye-catching dresses for fear a stroll down the sidewalk would be like an afternoon being bullied at the paintball playground.

The story says American nearsightedness has jumped from 25 to 42 percent since the 1970s.

The reason?

Too much time spent indoors reading from artificial light.

As the writing son of an optician, I’m torn -- and not in any way requiring emergency room suturing.

I don’t want to do anything that will discourage people from reading, even if the way they’re reading eventually renders vital organs as useless as scrap appendix.

Researchers say ancestral eye sharpness developed in bright natural light -- and by natural light they mean sunshine.

I have to keep reminding myself of that because for nearly 30 years natural light to me has meant beer sign neon including ones that further confuse by saying, “Natural Light.”

They believe bright outdoor light helps developing eyes keep vision in focus. Artificial lighting doesn’t measure up.

It’s just one reason you don’t see many homeless people in Armani frames.

Ideally, people would take books, newspapers and (and blogs!) and read them outside in the glorious sunshine.

But where does that leave those of us in places like Pittsburgh? If we want to go outside and sit in the sunshine we usually have to get in our cars and drive to Myrtle Beach.

Plus, the story doesn’t differentiate between printed and illuminated words.

I suspect I’ll always prefer the printed word to slick e-versions. I still love the feel of books and hold them the way adolescent boys used to hold porn before it all creeped on-line, a setting I still maintain is too conversely sterile for acts that at heart are procreational.

Well, maybe every once in a while.

But our house up in the woods is so dark I can envision a day when I’d want an e-reader to take advantage of backlit screens and the ability to increase the type size.

It just seems like a wonderful convenience that would reduce eye strain in a place where lighting is dim enough to make the common Townend Big-Eared Bat squinty.

It may seem strange that a guy who’s spent his whole life shunning supervision would come out in favor of Super Vision, but I’ve always been alert to eye care.

The importance of taking care of my eyes was something that was drilled into me from a very young age -- and that’s just another expression and not some deal the optical department at Sears gave free to the kids of the employees.

I’ve worn glasses mostly since the eighth grade. As I scored them free, my collection rivaled Elton’s.

Sure, for a few vapid years I tried contacts for reasons of vanity. I thought I’d look sexier to women I was trying to date.

This didn’t seem to work, I guess, because the women I tried to date all seemed to have Super Vision. They’d take one look at me and see multiple flaws.

So I went back to big nerdy glasses that concealed more of my face and things began working out fine.

Now I fear the progression of nearsightedness is jeopardizing my plan to have 2020 declared “Year of the Visionary.”

Either way, I promise to keep an eye on the news.

If you see it rolling around down there, I’ll be grateful if you’ll pick it up and stick it back in my face.