Binge watch ... me! My new (and old) videos

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(Note, Jan. 23, 2017: Let me cut to the chase; because I did so badly on the new video, I'm going to submit this one until I can do another one like it, only snazzier. Thanks for reading!)

After previewing my most recent promotional video, I’ve made a directorial decision regarding the next one.

I’ve decided to cast someone else to play me.

The “new” Chris Rodell will be younger, have better posture and smile more vibrantly.

And she’ll be black.

I’m thinking of Danai Gurira.

Having the woman who plays Michonne on “Walking Dead” play me will really ring the old diversity bell, and she’s a terrific actress. She could use her katana to in mid-air sever a whole damn box of crayons.

(Unrelated fun fact: Danai Gurira, now famous for beheading zombies, was born on Valentine’s Day, 1978. Lovely!)

The people who are trying to secure me more big league keynote addresses suggested a 90-second promotional video would be helpful.

Luckily, I have an ace videographer who’s now twice graced me with his talents.

His video news segments have won Mid-Atlantic regional Emmys. He could be busy round-the clock fulfilling lucrative corporate work. 

Why people like him choose to squander precious time working on my behalf for just a few free beers, I do not know.

Maybe they don’t realize Straub American lager is sold in most every area beer distributor.

I rehearsed for about two whole days trying to ensure it looked totally unrehearsed. 

Filming a commercial about yourself and starring in it feels like an exercise in pure vanity, like a really extended selfie. I was conscious of this the whole time.

So I’ll be interested to hear the reactions. Here’s the link.

I’ve long said anyone who believes he is his own worst critic is either delusional or single.

Is that the case here? 

I like everything about the video except the parts in which I’m speaking, which is unfortunate because the whole point of the thing is to get people to hire me to speak.

I love the music, the asides and shots of me playing around in the office. 

It looks wonderful and I remain optimistic its message will work with its intended audience: meeting planners looking for speakers. I hope it conveys the mirth I feel about life even in tumultuous times.

I don’t think it’ll stand out the way I’d hoped, but it’s another foundational block in the now-sturdy structure that is my pitch.

And the next one will be even better because it’ll star Danai Gurira, assuming she’s willing to do it for a few free Straubs. I think she’ll go for it.

Something about her tells me she’s a real sweetheart.

I now have a video for nearly every occasion. Here are some of the others:

• “So what did you think of Chris (in 20 seconds or less)?” — I had a lot of fun with this one. Funny cameos include my mom, wife, kids, Arnold Palmer and Bill Clinton. 

• Greensburg Library ’14 — This is when I was just getting started and shows, I think, a really strong and conversational talk. There were only about 15 people here, but you can tell everyone’s having a good time.

• Bethel Park Speakers Series — As a commentator points out, this one appears disjointed because they failed to mic the audience. So it’s like an hour of me telling stories and basking in the laughter no one else can hear.

• “What the book’s about and why it’ll always be free” — Very nice. This is the first one my buddy Brian did for me. Has a nice polish to it. I used this as the main feature on my crayons page for several years.

• “Why ‘Use All The Crayons!’ is like the cure for polio” — It’s too bad the lighting renders this nearly unwatchable because it’s great reaction to a strong delivery. This was before the Pennsylvania Restaurant & Lodging Association. It’s when the guy told me I’d cured his hangover.

• “‘Crayons!’ FAQ” — Hilarious. I had Dave from The Pond pose a bunch of questions about the book. Very cheesy.

• Quinn Fallon sings about me — What’s not to love about this? My rock star buddy sings the songs I inspired.

• “Chris drunk in church story” — Strong story. Great reaction. I’d rate this higher, but my emerging bald spot appears too prominent for my liking.

• Omaha intro — This highlights the humor I use to start my talks.

• “When men tell other men, ‘I love you’” — Depending on the audience, I sometimes read a story from the book. Nothing boring.

• “Greatest ovation ever” — That’s no lie. This one is pure fun. I send this link out with every pitch. This is my most-viewed video with nearly 1,800 hits. The recollection of the moment still leaves me tingling.

Has "Walking Dead" jumped the zombie shark?

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The show had been gut-wrenching — and I don’t mean that as a dramatic critique.

No, in “Walking Dead” you can see people use things like wrenches to remove guts. It’s a weekly disgust.

My wife, a devoted fan, was eager to talk about it. She wanted to pick my brain.

“Are you done with it?” she asked.

I told her, no. I still feel invested in the characters and the prepper in me is still compiling survival tips on what to do in the event zombie apocalypse becomes a reality and I’ll need to be alert for a more literal kind of brain picking.

But last night’s season 7 premier crossed a line with me.

I won’t say the show jumped the shark. “Walking Dead” producers would never let that happen, opting, I’m sure, to work a zombie shark plot line into the series.

The wanton gruesomeness of last night’s de rigeur violence left me feeling diminished. Is this really how I want to spend an hour? Does this qualify as entertainment?

The presidential debates are more uplifting.

At least with those — and they’re every bit as gruesome as “Walking Dead” — I know I’ll get to see Alec Baldwin ridiculing Trump.

Anytime televised violence becomes stomach turning because characters are getting their stomachs turned (or chewed), it’s time to re-think how I’m spending my time. So I’ll, for now, continue watching “Walking Dead,” but all the while my mind will be drifting to what I’d rather be watching. The list includes:

• Porn — I’ve never been a big porn guy, but something raunchy would be a nice palette cleanser after watching Michonne lop the heads off 30 zombies intent on dining on more than finger sandwiches. If you’re looking for Christmas stocking stuffers, I like ones involving things like the saucy divorcee and her cheerleader roommate surprising the pizza delivery boy with the kind of tip he can’t claim on his tax forms.

• “Cheers” — It’s on one of the retro channels and we DVR about 20 of them at a time. I hadn’t seen the show in about 15 years and I wondered if it still held up. Boy, does it. It remains uproarious with each character deftly acted and right on the money. I love to laugh so, ergo, I’ll always love “Cheers.” It sounds heretical, but it’s right up there with “Seinfeld” and “Seinfeld” is right at the top.

• “The Fugitive” — It was about 20 years ago, before kids, and I was seeking a good show to watch with lunch. Val at the time had a full-time job in Pittsburgh. I vaguely remember my father telling me to check out David Janssen and “The Fugitive” reruns. I watched one and was blown away. Each episode was a dramatic gem. I remember Val coming home and me saying, “We’re going to have to start taping these shows to watch with dinner. They’re that good.” She responded with some version of, yeah, right, we’re going to tape shows that first appeared in 1963. Today, it remains one of our all-time favorite shows. We even have an episode guide!

• “Breaking Bad” — The show went off the air three years ago last month and I’ve ever since been itching to start it all over. It’s that good, in my opinion the best show ever. I’d watch “Mad Men” and “Sopranos” from the start again, too.

• The World Series — Now’s the time of year when every pitch becomes so precious because I know baseball’s about to be cruelly ripped from my life. In the summer, baseball is my televised security blanket. Personal calm is elusive when it isn’t near. Barring a zombie apocalypse, I’ll be writing about the World Series tomorrow in advance of Game 1.

• “The Larry Sanders Show” — Brilliant Garry Shandling comedy with equally brilliant cast led by Jeffrey Tambor and Rip Torn. Again, I just love to laugh and this one makes me very happy. HBO ran 89 episodes from 1992-98. I have a compilation disc with about 20 of them on there. Each is golden. You know what else is still really, really funny? “Third Rock from the Sun,” starring the peerless John Lithgow. Sitcom trivia: The career-making Frasier Crane “Cheers” role that went to Kelsey Grammar was offered first to Lithgow. 

• A roaring fire — Hallelujah! The weather has finally turned. I welcome the fall chill. I love fall days cooking soups and warming the house with a nice fire. And if I’m in front of a fire, naturally, I’ll have a good book with me. I’m right now in the middle of Tom Wolfe’s excellent “Bonfire of the Vanities” from 1986. It’s particularly timely with so many egos and ambitions dominating our news.

• “Walking Dead” — It’ll never be one of my all-time favorite shows — I doubt I’ll ever re-watch more than an episodic scene or two — but this show was once great.

I think it’s too infatuated with devastating its audience with increasingly graphic violence. Last night’s brutal killings of two main and beloved characters couldn’t have been more disgusting.

Plus, I don’t foresee a “Walking Dead” happy ending and that turns me off.

See, I love happy endings.

Like the kind awaiting that lucky pizza delivery boy!

Related …

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“Breaking Bad” vs. “Sopranos:” the winner is …

Re-Run Sunday: Why trusting strangers can always count on me to give 'em wrong directions

It’s a beautiful day for a Sunday drive. Why not get lost? Is that your goal? Then just ask me for directions.

I was going to re-post about “Walking Dead” (AMC season 6 premier tonight, 9 p.m.), but I saw I’d recently re-posted that one already. So here’s one about the lost art of getting lost. 

My favorite line: “We somehow wind up missing so much whenever we always end up going exactly where we think we need to go.”

And be sure to stop by tomorrow when I plan on writing about the intimacies of two people in love sharing one toothbrush.

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I think people are always asking me for directions because I walk with a confident stride and have a friendly face. When I’m out for a stroll, I look like the kind of guy who really knows where he’s going.

It’s yet another triumph of appearance over competence because I have no idea where even familiar places are.

But that never stops me from pretending I do. 

Happened again just the other day. A confused elderly woman pulled up beside me as I was out for my morning constitutional. She said, “I am so lost. Can you please tell me how to get to Beechview Avenue?”

“I’ll be happy to!” I said. “Make a left at the second light, turn right at the gas station and just keep going. You’ll run right into Beechview. You can’t miss it!”

You could just see the relief wash over her face. A friendly stranger had cheerfully appeared out of nowhere and vanquished all her concerns. Her thanks were effusive.

Because I’d never heard of a Beechview Avenue, I decided to send her down a long country road. It can be very unsettling being lost in an unfamiliar town. I thought on this beautiful fall day it would be far better for her if she could at least be lost someplace more scenic.

I remember the time a middle aged couple with Ohio plates asked me to help them find the Latrobe post office.

I told them they’d just driven right past it.

“People ask that all the time,” I said, eager to put them at ease. “It’s very poorly marked. Go back the way you came and park outside the store with the Dainty Pastry sign out front. The post office is in there.”

In fact, the post office is about a quarter-mile down the same road in a big grey building with an official-looking “U.S. Post Office” sign out front. But they don’t sell no donuts in there.

Dainty Pastry does and they’re delicious. They have this glazed pretzel-shaped donut I get about once a week or so. And the friendly Dainty Pastry staff will brighten anyone’s day.

The Ohio couple looked to me like people more in need of donuts than stamps.

Who doesn’t?

I think my eagerness to direct people to places they think they don’t want to go stems back to a childhood vacation when the old man was taking us to the Big Apple.

I remember him getting hopelessly lost somewhere near Newark. We could see Manhattan, but had no idea how get there. Desperate for progress, he pulled into a gas station where we were met by a kid who, I swear, grew up to play Paulie Walnuts in “The Sopranos.”

“Can you help us, please?” Dad asked. “We’re trying to get to midtown and I have no idea which bridge we’re supposed to take.”

“Why, sure, I can. Where youse folks from?”

“Pittsburgh,” my Dad said.

In hindsight, I don’t whether that was the right or wrong answer. Maybe the wise guy had a former girlfriend from Pittsburgh who’d treated him cruelly. Or maybe he loved Jack Lambert from the old Steelers and felt Pittsburghers enjoyed overcoming logistical challenges.

Either way, he spun a glorious tapestry of mis-direction that had us speeding north up the Jersey turnpike, crossing the Tappan Zee Bridge, heading west through the Lincoln Tunnel and back again.

I may be mistaken, but I recall Dad parking the old Ford Fairmont near the base of the Statue of Liberty so Mom could use the restroom — and Liberty Island is inaccessible to vehicular traffic.

Even through the recollected static of my frustrated father’s profane outbursts, it’s a wonderful memory.

Of course, today no one needs ever get lost again. We just punch the coordinates in the phone and follow the little green arrows.

That’s good, sure, but we’re losing the serendipity of unplanned discovery. 

We somehow wind up missing so much whenever we always end up going exactly where we think we need to go.

I can foresee a day not far off when telling someone to get lost is no longer an insult.

It’ll be travel advice for people interested in enjoying an offbeat vacation.

Related . . .

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Sunday re-run: It was a very zombie Thanksgiving

Interested in zombies? You’ll like this post. Not interested in zombies? You’ll like this post. This ran after Thanksgiving weekend when I was feeling a zombie bloat. I thought this evening’s debut of AMC’s “Walking Dead” made re-running this one a good idea. Plus, I think it’s just funny. 

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Do zombies ever feel a Thanksgiving bloat like the one I felt? 

“I can’t take one more bite!”

Zombies are either walking around looking for something to eat or engaged in actual eating.

That was me the last four days. The only difference with me was I at least watched a little football. While I was gorging, of course.

I wonder if it was a coincidence AMC’s acclaimed “Walking Dead” zombiefest ended its jiffy little 10-episode run on Thanksgiving weekend, the holiday renown for rapacious eating. 

I’m not a zombie nut. I enjoy “Walking Dead” and consider “Zombieland” one of the funniest movies ever, but I don’t spend a lot of time planning for the zombie apocalypse.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about zombies, their diets, their social lives and if I’ll eventually make a good one.

Take this weekend. As zombies are wont to do, I overate. But I have the tactile dexterity to unbutton the top button on my blue jeans to liberate my belly press, which enables me to eat another three plates full of leftovers.

Zombies can’t do that.

I’m surprised how, on the “Walking Dead” at least, you never see a tubby zombie. They all seem zombie svelte. It’s as if dining on pounds of fellow humans helps shed pounds off the diner.

The irony is devastating.

Let’s hope the idea of the zombie diet doesn’t get around at the fitness centers.

Why are they so thin? Could it be all that walking?

I enjoy aimless walking so I’d be cool with that part of being a zombie, much more so than if the show turned out to be the “Jogging Dead.”

Another surprise: I’ve never seen a naked zombie.

When you think about this, it’s remarkable. 

If you go by the “Walking Dead” timeline, these zombies have been walking around dead for four years wearing the same clothes — and that’s another assumption.

I’ve never seen any zombie lore that says zombies try and keep up with the latest fashion or take time to change into fresh duds.

But four years? They should all be naked by now. But of all the zombie hordes I’ve seen I’ve never seen so much as a single a zombie breast or butt cheek.

It’s surprisingly prim for a show that features historically high levels of heinous TV violence.

It’s like the AMC censors say, “Okay, we’re fine with Daryl using a zombie head for a homicidal bowling ball, with cannibal Gareth having a cheerful conversation with the man whose leg he’s eating and, yeah, it’s fine to show closeups of zombies yanking entrails out of screaming humans, but for God’s sake, make sure you re-shoot that scene that showed a glimpse of that exposed zombie nipple! We have standards to maintain!”

It’s true. Zombies never experience wardrobe malfunctions.

And who’s doing all the human barbering in the zombie apocalypse? My friends at the bar look more disheveled — and those are the attorneys!

It’s like Rick enforces grooming standards. Hollywood and zombie apocalypse must be the only places where great hair supersedes all else.

The zombies? Heck, my hair’s messier.

It proves to me that producers are more interested in special FX Emmys than true zombie authenticity.

It won’t be truly authentic to me until you hear one of the cast utter the obvious line, “Dammit. I just stepped in a huge pile of zombie poop!”

So how will I do in a zombie apocalypse?

Well, as a zombie I’ll be fine. It’s all so aimless. It’d be sort of like what I do now, but without all the blogging. Really, it’s like I’ve spent the past six years practicing to become a zombie.

How would I do as a human survivor?

I’ll thrive, I’m sure.

That’s because I’ll adopt the only superhero persona sure to endure. I’ll be silent. I’ll blow around with the wind, practically invisible, but always persisting in the shadows.

I’ll be The Dust!

I’ll survive when all others are doomed to become zombie chow.

Why The Dust?

Because everyone knows true zombies never bite The Dust.

Related . . . 

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Setting the record straight: Lies I told The PG

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My friends at the bar had sporting fun over this excellent article all about me and my book that appeared in yesterday’s Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.

“I must congratulate you,” one said, “on nurturing this conceit that you’re some tremendous humanitarian for the purposes of hocking your book.”

I thanked him for the spice his sarcasm adds to my day.

But he’s correct. The flattering article makes me seem like one of the world’s greatest guys, a generous and caring man whose every motivation is the well being of his fellow man.

How’d this happen?

Well, I’m the story’s only source and budgetary necessities have laid waste to newspaper fact-checking departments.

So if a reporter asks me what kind of guy I am, sure, I’m going to say I’m a real sweetheart. Happily, I have a cheerful book out there that supports the contention.

It would be fun to see what a real warts ‘n’ all portrait of me would say. But no reputable news organization would bother to undertake the task and my wife’s too busy to do it herself, thank God.

And, geez, would that be a best-seller with the boys at the bar.

But I thought I would try and balance the perception by giving the honest version of the 19-question “Snapshot” that accompanied the print version of the story.

I’ve never been asked these questions with the understanding they’d receive a wide readership. But I think anyone who’s ever seen the profile of a Playboy Playmate of the Month has put themselves in their shoes -- if they’re even wearing shoes -- and asked themselves how they’d answer.

Like, “That’s odd, my turn offs are traffic, bad breath and rude people, too. I think me and Miss March might really it it off!”

These questions aren’t as easy as they look because they all tempt you to lie a little.  You want people to think you’re cool and fun so they’ll buy your book or maybe invite you to a party full of interesting folks.

So I’ll set the record straight here with my actual answer and the true answer, where it applies.

• Age: 50

True. I flinched just a bit when I wrote it. Would people be more impressed if I’d answered 29? Strangers would, but you can’t lie on the age question.

• Hometown: Raised in Mt. Lebanon; now lives in Latrobe.

True. In Pittsburgh, Mt. Lebanon connotes privilege and as I’ve mentioned before, it’s a fact I used to dodge. No more. I’m proud of where I’ve been and where I’m at. I love it here in Latrobe and we’re not going anywhere.

• Education: Bachelor’s Degree, Ohio University.

True. Lots of people like to pad their resumes in this regard. Not me. Being a Bobcat is one of my most proud attributes. It’s where I learned to drink responsibly whenever I should and irresponsibly whenever I can. It’s where I became who I am. Go Bobcats!

• Family: Wife, Valerie; daughters Josie, 12 and Lucy, 6.

True.

• What’s important: Family and fun.

True, in the broadest sense. It’s a tricky question. Because I’ll catch hell from all quarters if I put “Staying on my bartender’s good side.” So I gave the safe answer. You see a lot of people who put “God” in there, first even. Sorry, God, but I wasn’t going to do that. Hope you understand.

• First job: Newspaper carrier for the Pittsburgh Press.

True. Not a traditional job. Should I have put pizza maker? No. Delivering newspapers was such a great job for a kid. Sorry it’s not around anymore.

• When you were a kid, you wanted to: Skip School

True and a genius answer. I thought about putting astronaut or ball player, but I remember some of my happiest childhood memories occurred when I was skipping school. But I became so enamored with this answer it became a detrimental influence to several of the following questions.

• Hobbies: Reading, golf, recreational tavern time at The Pond in Latrobe.

Mostly true. I love to read and golf, but crafting a way to include my bar hobby, which I had to do, is a lie. Recreational tavern time? What the hell does that mean? Putting “drinking beer for a couple hours every other day or so,” makes me sound like a drunk. The honest answer would be “drinking,” but there’s so much more to it -- laughing, watching sports -- that I felt the dodgy “recreational tavern time” would work. Plus, that gave me a chance to mention Dave’s bar and that pleased him, which I’m always happy to do. The world will be a better place when convivial men and women like me can say, “I like to drink!” without crabby folks getting all judgmental. 

• What’s playing on your TV: “Breaking Bad” re-runs.

Partially true. It’s our favorite and the one we’ll watch over and over. But we also love “Justified,” and “Homeland.” Our lunch routine includes “The Price Is Right!” Showcase Showdown followed by classic “Hawaii Five-0” reruns. I picked “Breaking Bad” because I thought it was the one that would make me appear most cool and, remember, that’s the motivation behind each and every answer, true or false.

• What’s playing on your iPod: Mark Knopfler, Van Morrison, Todd Snider, Joe Ely.

One-quarter true. According to my iTunes play count, my top five most played songs are Mark Knopfler, Mark Knopfler, Mark Knopfler, Ray Davies and Bob Dylan. The first Van Morrison song doesn’t come until 15 and is preceded by more songs from Knopfler and ones by Stephen Bruton, Alan Jackson and the Rolling Stones. Snider and Ely don’t appear until well into the hundreds, so clearly I was calculating including them would appear cool. And I do love them. Josie asked me the other day who my favorite band was. I told her it depends on my mood. Then I went on to bore her with a 20-minute discourse on how much music means to me (she stopped even pretending to listen after two minutes). It’s an issue I plan to blog about soon, but the essence was I’m glad I’m not one of those people who can blurt out one name and be done with it. Music matters so much more than that. Honestly, I’ll take anyone of the four I mentioned with me on the deserted island.

• Fantasy dinner date: Bill Clinton

False. I love Clinton, but the word “fantasy” makes this a difficult answer. For me fantasy includes nudity and I don’t want to see Bubba in the buff. I suppose my fantasy dinner date would be Rachel McAdams. She’s the perfect combo of sweet and sexy. Many guys try and score points by answering, “My darling wife.” I wasn’t going to do that because Val would know I was bullshitting, just as she would if she put, “My aristocratic and refined husband.” Her fantasy dinner date? The girl who plays Michonne on “Walking Dead,” a woman she once described on Facebook as “dreamy,” which still freaks the hell out of me.

• Who would play you in a movie about your life: Matthew Broderick.

False. This is where the “skip school” answer again rears its head. Someone about 30 years ago said I looked like Broderick, so there is some ancient validity to the answer. But again with “cool” as my lighthouse, I answered him because I thought people would think of “Ferris Bueller” and perpetuate the conceit about me being this carefree hipster who writes self-help books about happiness. It’s a tough question. A great answer would have been Fred Flintstone.

• Guilty pleasure: Playing hookie to watch Pirate baseball.

False. I love doing this, but I feel no guilt about it whatsoever. I suppose I should have answered splurging on sushi without my wife knowing about it, but then she’d read about it and I’d feel truly guilty. She reads about one out of four of my blogs and I’m hoping she’s skipping this one.

• Favorite spot in the whole world: Bitter End Yacht Club, Virgin Gorda, British Virgin Islands.

False, but only because I’ve been fortunate enough to visit some great places. The butt-kissy answer is “At home in front of the fire with my darling family and our stupid dog!” I almost put Lake Louise in the Canadian Rockies, or New Orleans. But Val and I did have a great vacation at B.E.Y.C. and it’s obscure enough to boost my cool factor, I think.

• If you had to do it all over again, you would: “Be more contemptuous of all authority.”

False. I took a lot of advice from more elderly idiots throughout my life, but that’s all part of growing up. No, if I was honest I’d have said something about screwing more babes before I got married. I had an old-fashioned view of integrity that kept me from cheating on girls who probably wouldn’t have really cared. But how would it have looked if I’d have answered: “More sex with bimbos!” Honest, but not cool.

• Proudest moment so far: “Authoring a widely rejected self-published book that is showing signs it has a chance of being a sensation.”

False. I’m hopeful about the book, but it’s too early to say I’m proud. I’m proud of our daughters and my marriage, but nobody wants to read about that. Plus, I was running out of questions and wanted to hype the book some more.

• What’s on your bucket list: “Go another 20 years without having a job and somehow parlaying that into an actual job.”

False. A real whopper. Please! Please! Please, someone give me a job! Any job! I’d love to have a job that paid well, offered benefits, and had boss who was appreciative of my skills, one that rewarded me with influence and prestige.

I guess that’s on your bucket list, too.

Related . . .

• Chris is an honest guy: agree, disagree