"Stop Wearing My Underwear!"

(NOT my boys) Aquaman and Captain America, 'Strike a Pose'

Micheal's immortal words.

With three adolescent and teenage boys in the house––you're sure to hear a number of 'things that make you go hmmm.'

I live in a home, dominated by pre-teen and teenage life forms. As of the writing of this post, I have a feisty 15-year-old daughter, an almost 14-year-old son an twins boys nearly 12. My home is rampant with heightened levels of food intake, testosterone (the boys), hormones (all four) and rolling eyes (mostly my daughter). The level of sarcasm and contempt in our home is at near toxic levels.

What's more, I grew up an only child so I have very little frame-of-reference for the multi-child mayhem that ensues on a daily basis. 

"Animal Print Pants Out of control!"

Sure, I've had my share of wrestling matches ("peacocking"), sports competitions (Hoops and Volleyball were my biggies, though I was no stranger to the bench press, either). So, though I was raised by a struggling, single Mom, I feel I had a well-rounded upbringing. At least, that is, until I had my three sons.

Yet, no matter what your childhood was like, there is little in life that can prepare you for the onslaught of ear smoldering comments that effortlessly spew from the lips of your precious prodigy. I'm not talking about the occasional "Leave me alone!" cried out when one child annoys another past the point of tolerance. Oh no, dear reader, this post is about the raging insanity my three boys blurt out to one another over the course of any given day.

Over the last few months alone, my children have uttered the following statements to one another:

    "Quit showing me your wiener!"
    "Stop eating my food!"
    "Don't kick me in the nuts!"
    "Stop doing the LMFAO "Wiggle-wiggle-wiggle-wiggle" dance!"
    "Will you please stop following me!"
    "Idiot!"
    "Stop sitting on m y head!"
    "Don't get out of the car at my school–it's weird!"
    "Dad, he's flicking boogers at me again!"

and of course,

    "Stop wearing my underwear!"

Boys will be boys, sure. They have been caught wrestling naked after showers or changing from time spent at the pool. This is stuff I kind of expect. But, erotic break dancing? Really?

"Damn he fly!"

My real concern is that they find this behavior acceptable as adolescents. I always need to be mindful of odd or even deviant behavior developing in them. What they do as adults will be conscious decisions for them later in life. I can't have three boys parading around in their birthday suits while blasting LMFAO–neither their sister nor I will survive.

I've got to say, the "I'm sexy and I know it" culture is a runaway train of hormones and attitude out of control. Of course this conversation isn't old; Elvis was banned from many TV shows and music venues because of his gyrating pelvis, and everyone from Mick Jagger to Steven Tyler to Prince to Madonna have had all kinds of backlash due to their sexually charged entertainment.

It doesn't mean Dad has to like it.

Now I used to get really upset at how my children talk to one another. Less so now. These days, I am convinced this is how they maintain the hierarchy of their pack. Like a wolf pack, they have pecking order and Alpha(s) must subdue the others in order to establish dominance.

Understood.

However, none of this helps me to understand why any of this encourages a young man to wear his sibling's unmentionables. Your brother's T-Shirt or socks? Sure. Hey, as a self-styled kid at heart, I can totally relate to the "wild & crazy guy" schtick. But when it comes to wrapping your package in someone else's loincloth, well, as Hall & Oats once said; "I can't go for that".

Mortified In The Darkness.

A long time ago, in a movie theater thousands of miles away… a nine-year old boy's heart was broken.

Early June, 1977, Boston, Massachusetts. It was the best of times—mainly because I didn't know any better. There was a mad buzz about this new Star Wars flick. Maybe you’ve heard of it? I bugged my Mom for weeks to take me to see it. She had heard of it and had VERY little interest–but with my persistence (Can we go, huh? Can we? Can we go? Can we go, huh? Can we?), I was able to sway her to the dark side and coerce her to plunk down the $2 ticket price to take me to the flick that everyone was talking about.

Star Wars changed my life! It was big, loud, inventive full of imagination and wonder and showed off some of the best Sci-Fi anyone had ever seen anywhere! EVER! I was a fan for life, hooked from the moment the lights dimmed. 

Oh Snap! They make movies like this?

The Death Star blew me away (ha ha! get it?) and I remember seeing that opening Star Destroyer sequence as it roared by overhead for what, at that time, seemed like weeks! Does this fantastic thing ever stop? It's huge! The audience was gasping and transfixed. Lasers bursting, loud explosions, the sound effects. I was on sensory overload – and I was loving every minute of it!

Then, the most unbelievable realization hit me – one that will haunt me to the end of my days. Some people attending the movie actually had NO IDEA what they were watching when they saw that movie. It completely dumb-founded some movie-goers.

Like, my Mom.

Somewhere between taking off from Mos Eisely and being caught in the Death Star's space-monster-ridden trash compactor, my Mom and her boyfriend both went to sleep. Through Star Wars? Really? How is THAT even possible?

"Mom!!"
(snoring, shudders awake) "– oh, what?"
"Wake up!"
"Oh, ok…"

"You, quit napping during the movie!"

The concept of someone falling asleep during what was one of the greatest action movies ever made, was impossible for me to comprehend. I was bewildered, astonished! Even to this day. Look, I understand a lot of people didn't (and–gasp! — still don't) enjoy these movies on a level that I do, but to fall asleep? Really?

I have heard accounts of how people back in the early days of silent cinema would go to the movies (then exclusively silent films, sometimes with music–they didn't become "talkies" for decades), and would literally run screaming from theaters because a locomotive was filmed coming down the tracks at the viewers and they thought it was a real train bearing down on them. Or like the infamous War of The Worlds radio broadcast from 1938 where people had actually thought we were living through an alien invasion from Mars.

"People everywhere loved Star Wars–even PEOPLE!"

It has also been said that people in 1977, were largely unprepared for the hi-tech visual and sensory onslaught that became the Star Wars franchise. It’s been further theorized that audiences didn't have a background of special effects exposure, scientific understanding and experiential maturity to fully grasp what Lucas and company presented to them back in '77. 

Some dismissed it as 'foolishness' (a common critique Star Wars enjoys even today) or simply disregarded as an incomprehensible collection of wild, out-of-this-world ideas. When this happens, our brains can feel overloaded and will simply shut down. Or, my Mom simply might not have cared about what she was watching and thought that dark theater was a great opportunity to catch up on some sleep from raising a hyper nine-year old over-stimulated by imagery from campy space movies.

Losing their 'train' of thought...

Whatever overcame them had the exact opposite effect on me. I am a fan boy—a hopeless addict of this stuff for life. What’s more, I have raised a household full of hopelessly addicted sci-fi, gaming and comic book nuts. Yes, even my teenage daughter knows more about the ridiculous details of the Battle of Endor (Ewoks took down the Empire? Really, George?) than most adults.

Maybe my Midi-chlorians are all in an uproar over the thought of my Mom sleeping through Star Wars but I think if you’re a person that dozes off at a Star Wars movie, well my heart is saddened by the loss of the bright-eyed child in you that has long since died.

In the now less-than-prophetic words of Jedi-master Yoda; “Tragic news this is… and unfortunate.”

You're not alone.

MJ had it right

Whether you're on the road, in the supermarket or in the gym–it is quite possible you are NOT the only person on Earth.

So my daughter (15) and I were at Costco last weekend. Standing in line at checkout and a Costco employee comes out of seemingly nowhere and drops a big red plastic hang sign on the handle bars of the cart that reads "CLOSED". Moments later a woman gets in line behind me and takes her items out of her cart, reaches OVER my cart to put hers stuff on the conveyor belt behind mine–using a plastic divider–and completely disregards the sign hanging on my cart.

Going it alone – Big Willie Style

Moments later, no fewer than three others line up behind her. After the cashier looks up from scanning my stuff, she tells everyone that the lane is closed. Every-single-person behind me is mortified. Rolling eyes, sighing, mumbling under their breath. My daughter and I then look at each other and share the "are you kidding me?" stare. How did all these people miss a 22" Closed sign in big red letters on my cart. Did they think I was buying it? How on Earth did you arrive at THAT delusional conclusion?

This scenario simply reinforces my belief that our world is NOT a bad place. We're all just unfocused. Like many of the people in Costco, if something doesn't scream out at us, we just simply don't pay attention or even worse, we just don't care.

I know why, too.

We all just have too many distractions; like spouses and significant others, careers, children, bills, the economy, war (or the threat thereof), music, iPods, iPhones, iPads, movies, television, books, the environment, our health, our weight, insurance, the housing market, The Real Housewives of Berwin, the Walking Dead, Sports Center, Angry Birds, the Khardasians, Global warming (yes its real), Charlie Sheen and the Greek bailout just to name the first two dozen examples that come to mind.

It's too much to retain so we simply zone out, tune out, shut up and stay only semi-aware of some of the things that we deem important. We become social recluses, retreating to our own comfy worlds than deal with the real one which is often scary and not very nice. We pretend we're trolls who hang out in dark places, comforted by the self-pitying idea that we're alone.

We're not.

Uh oh

Look around, there are friends, relatives, allies and spiritual boosters everywhere. More importantly, acknowledge that there are others out there. Look, people suck, I know. So much so it might make us want to tune out the world around us. Don't do it! It is imperative we remain aware of the world around us. Did you know–that texting while driving is dozens of times more deadly than even driving drunk? It's because when you drive drunk, your eyes are actually still on the road, so even though your reaction timing is shot, you still have a much better chance than someone NOT EVEN LOOKING AT THE ROAD! Even someone who falls asleep at the wheel has better response timing because they can–and here's the kicker–wake up!

So here's the solution, its simple, really. Pay better attention. Be alert to the world around you. It's not just good safety advice, its good common sense. Lets put the phone down while driving, look both ways when you cross a street, read the directions before you destroy dinner. Yes, even read the fine print. When we're snapped out of our own world, we might just realize we are not alone in it, and that's not an altogether bad thought.

Heck, you might even notice the big red Closed sign on the cart in front of you in Costco.

Time to wake up!

Don't be chicken–time to wake up

Isn't it time we all woke from our "Dreams"?

It's time to put the ad industry on blast. Advertisers need a wake-up call. We need to have a moratorium on the way advertisers communicate with us – and it starts with the word "dreams".

Ok so that may not have been where you thought this post was going but hear me out. Every advertisement; print, web, television–even radio–is talking about how a particular product or service is going to help me fulfill my 'dreams'. Really? How is that possible–especially since you don't even know what they are?

I mean let's call a spade a spade here, nothing advertised fulfills dreams. What we're talking about are aspirations. I know, I know, the word 'Dreams' sounds sexier. It's compelling–even seductive–yet elusive. It's ill-defined but totally captures the imagination. 

Yeah, yeah. We get it. Why is it bogus then? Our first clue is that politicians use the word all the time to get us all riled up over their bills, policies and laws, like so:

Ahh, the dream of endless paperwork

"Now, American families, long-denied the ability to secure a home for their family, can at last realize the American Dream of Home Ownership."

Hard to believe I just made that up, huh? It's because it draws on familiar language that we all have been fed over and over–for years. We don't even notice this word as it plays on our emotions, or perceptions and our morality. So now, it needs to go. In fact it is my "dream" not hear or read that word ever again.

Seriously.

"Standby, a lawyer has been
dispatched to your location!"

This jargon has been pirated by advertisers who really just want your money. Anything else is FUBAR. 

Here then, is my top five dream-busting points to remember when you are about to throw down some touchy-feely emotional swill from your favorite advertisers:

1. Drop your pants & bend over. ANY insurance or medical institution who pretends to support your dreams–doesn't. Just ask anyone who has ever been in an automobile accident, had a home insurance claim or a serious medical procedure done. They'll drop you faster than a drug-smuggler with a 10-kilo haul at the border.

2. Just kidding. So when you actually have a legitimate claim, insurance companies will haggle with you and lower your claim to the lowest possible payout in the history of humankind. That's not a dream by the way–it's more like a nightmare!

3. Show me the money. When financial institutions need to constrict payouts or values, you're the first to feel it. When they need raises and bonuses for shares worth 2% of their value just a year ago–well, I hope it's your 'dream' to foot the bill for someone else's Porche. It's a self-awarded job well done by the very people who write you letters that say "we regret to inform you that your account has been closed due to poor market activity". Thanks for playing (…suckers!).

4. Please take my money! Banks don't make your dreams come true, especially with monthly fees, service charges and insufficient funds. these are all fees leveraged to make them billions collectively every year.

5. Wake-up call. Anyone who mentions wanting to help you realize your dreams in their advertising is lying. Wake up! You're just an account number to them. Deep down, you already know this.

Mmm... pie in the sky

As a Dad, bashing the concept of dreams is a sobering thought when I think about my children and their future. I know that the words in this blog will serve as an account of who their Dad was years from now, long after I am gone.

So here it goes; kids, any "Dream" you hold is likely centered around money and financial standing. Just trust in your ability to to earn, your values and your self-worth—trust in God and in the values I tried to instill in you–through hugs, discussion, shouting, threats, pleads and reasoning. If you aspire to be good people, good citizens of humanity and strive to leave this world just a sliver better than you found it–well, that is all I could EVER hope for from any of you.

And for me, that would be a dream come true.

LEGO Creativity

Those little colorful bricks have built more than toys since 1891

If you never played with Legos as a child, please stop doing whatever you are doing right now–even reading this blog post!—and go to your nearest toy store and buy a basic $40.00 set. This is NOT a request! You have (somehow) missed a critical, viable part of childhood and you need to be saved!

Prepare for the Raptor

LEGOs have become the symbol of imagination and creativity since their invention in 1891. Created by Danish inventor, Ole Kirk Christiansen, the company is named after the toy. LEGO from the Danish phrase leg godt or play well.

No I don't mean the ones that are in preconceived play sets like Harry Potter, Star Wars or Batman. Those to me are marketed to Children with no imagination or adults who need to be reminded of the possibilities of of the toy so they can be persuaded to buy them for their tykes.

Tanks for everything

No this post is dedicated to Imagination. To the hours of fun re-imagining my LEGOs into whatever I could envision–space ships, astronauts, futuristic armies, laser guns. Yeah, yeah these are all weapons and LEGOs are about building

Plane & simple

things–thanks for judging me. Your armchair psychiatry is much appreciated. Now please head down the hall to room 0 where all the closed minded people are playing with dolls and firetrucks. Thanks for coming!

As a father, an advertiser and professional creative, I would have given anything to work on the LEGO toy account. And, since I have NOT done an ad review in a while, this is the perfect opportunity to share some real gems from the world of advertising promoting what is arguably the world's most perfect toy.

1. "The Force is strong with this one…" this campaign shows off simple what if scenarios using colors and positioning for scenarios from the Star Wars movies. Playful and thought provoking, these ads reminds us of a time of fun from "A long time ago…". Fun, they are...

"Not as clumsy or as random as a blaster"– indeed

True love knows no species; "Once you go Ewok..."

Han always had to toss Chewie a Bone...

Haha! Force choke this, Anakin–!

2. You should learn to LEGO. In this series of fiction ad student concepts, adult themes are critically re-imagined with LEGO props. Thought provoking and mindful of the power of creative thinking… 

LEGO High

LEGO my cleavage

LEGO the trigger

3. LEGOs do a body good. Nothing shares the versatility of the LEGO toy better than the LEGOs themselves. For me these ads just click (ahem—sorry about that one).

4. The REAL Never-Ending Story. This last series of award-winning LEGO ads tells highly imaginative stories using LEGOs as the foundation to creativity. These are seriously, some of the best ads I have EVER read (the last one really brings them all together).

If only the world could piece together an imperative on building and creativity as inspired by the ads. Just imagine a world where children actually learn to build things and and were entertained by something without buttons. It's easy if you try… 

Cream-filled Contraband

What satisfying my eighth-grade sweet tooth taught me about sales & marketing.

Remember how downright awful school cafeteria food was? I do. Even attending very well-to-do schools in Massachusetts didn't stop the tater-tots from tasting like ass. My children tell me the quality or taste hasn't changed much from the midday school menu–even clear across the country–so hopefully the following tale won't inspire any of the following hi jinks.I had a lot of time on my hands before getting on the school bus in the mornings. I was always the last one to be picked up and my not-so-friendly fellow school bus riders didn't let me sit anywhere good, constantly trying to discourage me from sitting next to any of them.

Jerks.

There was however one nice advantage, being the last one picked up, I could stop off at the convenience store across from the bus stop. I could take (at the time anyway) a couple bucks and gorge on several days worth of junk food awesomeness–potato chips, cupcake (hostess), Twinkies, candy and the holy grail of middle-school snack foods–soda!

I'd spend between $1- $4 a day on junk food (I know, far from healthy) and it was awesome! It was the one point in the day where I felt I had something over all the others–friend and foe alike–that gave me control over what was an otherwise life completely OUT of my control.
When you're popping open a Coke in the lunch hall 3-4 times a week and knocking back Snickers, cupcakes and deli-wrapped sandwiches in middle school, well, people begin to take notice. It wasn't because the the kids couldn't get those things, it was because they couldn't get them at school. After all what parent in their right mind gives their kid Milky Way bars and Cheetos for lunch?

Everyday, kids would ask for a sip, a bite, offer "I'll trade you" bribes or ask, "how can I get some"? So I did what any enterprising young American kid would do–I started taking orders.

In no time, business was booming.

With a modest mark-up I would deliver practically any treat–cans of soda (then .50¢ for $1), .10¢ lollipops went for a quarter, and Hostess cup cakes? A .60¢ three-pack would go for $1.25. These kids had money–I had product. Simple supply and demand dynamics. At the time I was clearing roughly $30 a week–not much by today's standards, but at age 14, in the 80's–that was insane money! Customers were happy, demand was high. Most orders were paid-in-full, all up front. Some kids asked for six-packs of soda–I charged $5, making $2.50 profit on each! Kids who couldn't pre-pay? No problem, an additional service charge – a credit account if you will – would be offered, paid on delivery. Soon, I needed a ledger, a bigger back pack and customer retention programs like: "Hey order between now and fourth period and all orders are 10% off!" or "Tell you what, I can see you're in a quandary between the Ring Dings and the Ho-ho's, buy both and I'll toss in a Tootsie Roll for free." Sold.

Eventually however, all rides must end. One day, my bus was late, and I got to school just before homeroom began. Now to illustrate this properly, I had two sets of customers, the morning munchers (MMs) and the lunch-timers (LTs). The MM's were always better because they would commonly have pre-paid for their treats and would usually have orders–with money in hand–for the next day or two.

So here was the scenario; roughly 14 kids from all three middle-school grades, standing in a nice neat line at my homeroom desk, all with money in hand, like they were at a check-out counter, patiently awaiting my arrival. I stroll in, giant back-pack full tummy teasing treats, soda, sandwiches and candy, strung over my shoulder. Just as I begin shoeing people away, the homeroom teacher comes in; "What's going on?" "uh, nothing" I say wryly. At this point, Mr. Summergrad knew me well enough then to believe that. "What's in the bag? Why are people waiting at your desk with money in their hands?" Without missing a beat I say; "I'm a very generous person, Mr. Summergrad, I lend people lunch money when they need it and these good kids just wanted to get it back to me." [cut to scene of all 14 kids scattering] "Let's see what's in the bag..." he said.
Minutes later I was in Vice Principle Shay's office receiving a long-lecture about intolerable behavior, two-day suspensions, calling my Mom, blah, blah, blah. My treats-for-tykes operation was shut down. I was forever banned from doing my year-round paid Santa impersonation. Not however, before I learned some valuable intel. First, people will pay almost any reasonable price for what they want. Second, being the local go-to guy had it's perks. Lastly, my enterprising nature was not only a hit with the girls, but also impressed some of the schmucks who wouldn't let sit next to them on the school bus.

Honestly, for that kind of end result, the whole ordeal was worth every moment of Mom's lecturing–and couple of new friends is a happy ending to almost story, don't you think?

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Maybe, the problem... is you.

Turns out the fix to many of the world's problems starts with a Y and ends with U.

We all know that person that brings the room down. Or complains incessantly about things (unlike this blog which is pure ranting–!) and of course, the doomsayer, the world is going to hell in a hand-basket and that the end is near. These are also, ironically, the same fools who believe the current President, the current congress, the Russians, the Chinese, the Klingons or big business is destroying our health, our families and our way of life.

Anyone else done with these ding-dongs? Look we all have the right to voice our opinion(s) and I am thankful every day I live in a place where I can say so. Lord only knows, this blog is a testament to that. But is the world really that bad? Or are you really just that ornery and you can no longer see the bright side of anything?

For people like this, my grandmother used to have a saying, "… don't let the door hit ya, where the good lord split ya!" Some of you might better know it as "Don't let the doorknob hit you in the ass on the way out–!" And if you still don't know where I'm going with this, it means you can always leave. Leave the room, leave the country, leave the planet.

However, if you think you've got a little more juice in your charge, why not make some changes? Heck just look in the old mirror and scrutinize what you see there. To help, I offer my list of the top five things we can all do to make the world a better place:

1. Blame it on the rain. No, don't start busting out a Milli Vanilli tune, just stop blaming everyone else for your lack of happiness. The world's a tough place, it's not their fault. Not the republicans, not the liberals, not the terrorists. You can choose to be a happy person. It's that simple.

2. Last man standing. Everyone isn't stupid. That's just not possible. If you think that everyone is just an ass–except you and the people you know–guess what? You have officially lived too long. Time to close-up shop.

3. Remember the time. With all due respect to the late Michael Jackson, stop pinning away for yesteryear. The 'good old days' aren't coming back. You know why? Because they already happened. How about making today tomorrow's 'good old days?'

4. Can't we all just get along? Yes, we can, Rodney. Things–and people–don't suck just because you don't like them. Music, food, different people, foreign customs and religions that aren't yours aren't wrong or dumb just because they aren't yours.

5. That tastes funny. Variety is the spice of life–the world's your oyster. Why not try new things? If you're reading this, chances are you aren't a toddler, so don't act like one when it comes to new things like food, tolerance and acceptance. Come on–join us.

This is the stuff I preach to my own kids, pretty much verbatim. Since I know they read this blog, along with their teachers, their friends and other family members, I thought I would share it with the blog-osphere. "You know–for the kids."

Look, life dishes out enough downers to have to deal with fatalistic weenies. At last count, approximately NONE of us is perfect. That's what makes us all so interesting! We all get pimples, we all do stupid stuff when we're young and we all drink waaay too much soda. That's the beauty of it all. The very things we complain about are often the very things that define us. Diversity is a gift. Adversity is how we grow. The change starts with you, embrace it.

Hey, all the kids are doing it.

No plan B–Just Me.

As it turns out my Plan B… is me.

I remember having the 'Plan B' discussion with various, adults as I was growing up. "What do you want to be when you grow up?" was a favorite question of any Baby Boomer or adult I would meet. I was a pretty big kid, so I would always hear the same lame-o suggestions. "... what a big fella! You should be a football player!" To which I would reply, "... actually, I want to draw comic books." Which was THE BEST answer you could give because no adult had any frame of reference as to even how to respond. They would always expect something vapid and unimaginative like Policeman, Pilot or Plumber. Mostly jobs they either did or could relate to. [TIME OUT: If you are saying to yourself, 'hey, my Dad's a cop or 'Pilot's make lots of money' I want to applaud you for completely missing the point–you may click away here, it won't get any better from here forward].

Of course now–decades later–I have great answers I would LOVE to give my seven-year-old self. Like 'New Media Content Developer', 'Ad Agency Copywriter' or 'Digital Illustrator' (all positions I have held). I would give just about anything to watch those closed-minded, uninformed heads burst like watermelons on the pavement while trying to figure out what these answers even meant!

Later as I got older, it was evident I wasn't going into the NFL (especially since I really didn't play), the inane questions would cease, mostly because I had declared I was going to art school–and that was where the REAL fun would begin. "Well, that's all well and good, but if it doesn't work out, what's your 'Plan B'?"

Plan-B? What the heck is THAT?

"That's a back-up plan to your life–in case things don't pan out?" What the hell does 'things working out' have to do with my life ambitions? Even at age 11, I knew NOTHING in life went according to plan. Why would I have a 'back-up' plan? I didn't even have a primary plan fully figured out. A back up–what am I, a hard drive?

Look, we all do what we have to do to survive, some borrow money from wealthy parents, others mooch off spouses, some wear paper hats and super-size value meals, some manage hedge funds (whatever THAT means) and others sling rocks. Whatever you do, that is what you have decided is your best, most reasonable path to making a living. But YOU are the plan. What you do does not define who you are, it is simply what you do. Your "plan A" should be to become a success. Period.

Here's the steak: One of my sons wants to be a doctor. I told him he must do everything he can to stack the deck in his favor. You have to put the time in,"pay your dues" get great grades, research the best medical schools and so on. At age 11, he is already asking about Harvard medical school and has human anatomy flash cards.

Success means hard work (or the good fortune of having a wealthy family). I have found many are NOT willing to do what it takes to make their dreams a reality. To conceive of a "Plan B" means the of failure of Plan A is a possibility. At that point, you're lost. You must have a single, cyclopian focus on achieving success. Turns out, that can be much harder than most think. Only a single, driven focus will get you what you're after in life. Everything else is just bad advice.

Legendary east coast ad man, Ernie Schenck had a great dissertation concerning "Plan B". When asking his teenage daughter about her plans for college she shared she wanted to become an actress. He asked her about her plan B to which she replied: "Funny thing about Plan B, Dad. It's amazing how fast it can become plan A."

Amen, young lady. I couldn't have said it better myself.