The Other Side

I know a person who is in pain. It could be a man, woman, boy or girl.

You may know this person, you may know several. They could have the world if they could just, if even for a moment, get out of their own way.

We forget a lot of things in our lives, some of the good, some of the bad, but most of what we forget is in the in-between. But I remember when I was 14, I said one of the worst things I think I ever said in my life and I'll never forget it.

A girl in my class discussed an uncle that had died of alcoholism in the framework of a conversation about deadly diseases.

"Alcoholism is not a disease," I offered, "It's a problem."

Now this was 15 years ago. I don't remember where we were as a country in regards to mental health, and it's possible that at the time, my opinion was a popular one. Regardless, it was a callous thing to say and one that haunts me to this day.

We never know how we are going to react to something until we go through it. We can prepare, we can brace for impact, but until that moment comes, we never truly know how it will catch us. Many of my friends, friends stronger than me, have had to deal with the loss of loved ones, some expected, others unexpected.

I've watched brave colleagues fight through disease, disease that has no business attacking people so young, but I was truly caught blindsided when addiction came into my life in an unexpected way.

See I am no an addict, at least I don't think I am. I fall into the category of people that like to have a really good time (sometimes too good) but understand when it's time to shut off the jets. As such many of the people I surround myself with are cut from the same cloth.

We chalk it up to 'being young' and 'living life to the fullest.' We tend to view our behavior as mildly Sophomoric instead of reckless and dangerous.

And maybe it's true.

But sometimes people lack that safety valve, that thing in the back of our mind that tells us we need to settle down and that is when things can spiral down a very scary path.

Those that know me well will know that there is a person close to me who is battling some demons. They are doing their absolute best to win the fight, but there are setbacks along the way. It rips me apart inside because as badly as I want to fight this war with them, it is largely a battle fought from within.

I worry now. I never used to worry about anything.

I never called my parents when I was a kid. Whatever, I was out late, I fell asleep watching a movie in a basement. I didn't understand what it meant to be scared, really scared, about the safety of a loved one. I went through a period last year where I dreaded every phone call. And not dread in the way that my boss is going to make me come in this weekend or my girlfriend found out I lied about being sick so I could watch football. Actual life and death dread.

Phone call at a weird hour? This could be it. This could be the call that changes everything and my life will never be the same. Or it can be just another checkpoint in the long heartbreaking saga.

And of course I feel a tremendous amount of guilt because of the way I live my life. What pedestal do I have to stand on when I make the decisions that I do? Who am I to criticize the way anyone chooses to lead their life? But then what do I do?

Do I change?

I don't want to change. Sure I stay up too late on Saturdays, but that was a conscious choice. I fully intended to sit on my couch the entirety of the next day eating pizza. Maybe I'll grow out of it, but that's what I wanted to do.

It isn't about me, but I've tried to use words to work through my feelings. I did a 6 minute Monologue at The Moth about the conflict I feel inside. Where did it go wrong? Am I to blame, is there yet more that I can do now that I'm not already doing.

While writing this I wonder if this is my story to even tell. Sure I worry, I dread anytime the phone rings and I struggle with the daily choices I make, but that is nothing compared to the pressures felt by the person going through the depths of addiction.

And yet I am helpless.

There is no physical manifestation of this disease that I can lobotomize from this person's brain. There is no magic phrase that will make everything ok, so I continue to say I love you and I believe you will get through this even on the days that I'm not so sure.

I've read the forums, I've attended the meetings. They all say the same thing, there is no magic elixir, everyone fights at a different pace. We depend on the power of prayer and positive thinking, encouragement to take it one step at a time.

I know there will be bumps in the road, but all I can offer is my unconditional support that one day things will get better because I know how strong this person can be. Maybe you are going through this now as well, maybe you will some day, if I can offer you one solace just know that there is hope.

Hope for a day that things will get better, hope for a time that all can be forgiven. And in the mean time I will do what works for me. I will press onward and try to be a beacon of strength for this person, to tell them that I do not blame them for anything. I will try not to look back because that in itself is an exercise in futility. I just keep three phrases in my back pocket whenever I go to a dark place, they help remind me that there will again come a day when this star brightly shines.

"I love you."

"I believe in you"

and lastly...

"You will get better."

Jealous Writer Syndrome

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Popular? Someone's boyfriend? A guy that gets invited to parties on Friday nights?

When we are young, we are so shortsighted. It's hard to see even a week, month, year into the future. This is why so many of our decisions we make when we are young turn out to be those of the poor variety.

I didn't know what I wanted to be when I grew up until I was 25. Before I landed on 'professional writer' here are a few things I thought I had a legitimate shot at.

Ages 3-9: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle
Age 10: Ninja (By 10 I knew that anthropomorphic life-sized turtles were not real. I still think ninja is a profession)
Age 11-13: Designated Hitter for Tampa Bay Devi Rays (I could hit the ball far, I still can't catch a pop up. Chose the Rays because they were a bad team in an affordable coastal market)
Age 14-19: Lawyer, specifically a v charismatic litigator like Lt. Danny Kaffee
Age 20-24: Uhh???? Broke socialite? Is BroBible hiring?

Alas I now have a clear vision of what I want to do. I want to write narrow coming of age half hour television shows that will live on streaming services or likely basic cable. It only took me a quarter century to figure it out, but that's half the battle right?

There is one problem...one in three 20somethings in Los Angeles wants to do the exact same thing.

Let me diagram for you the anatomy of a Writer's Room. On a comedy there will be between let's say 8 and 14 writers mostly in their 30s and 40s. These men and women will make anywhere from $4,000 a week to $10 million a year.

There will also be anywhere from 4-10 assistants up there making roughly $850 a week. Most of these people are in their 20s (though I have seen script coordinators old enough to be my father) and fun and energetic. These people become your friends.

Or rather frenemies.

Friends in the way that I will help you respond to boys on Bumble. Friends in the way that I will totally come to your birthday party this Saturday.

But if my homie that is a CE at MGM asks me what I think of your script? I am ripping that thing to shreds.

See it's a tenuous existence in the writer's room. On some shows the script coordinator is the first in line for a promotion. On others it is one of the writers' assistants. Sometimes a guy like Aaron Sorkin will decide he loves his PA and promote him to producer. I was on a show where the show runner (boss) ran into a random office assistant (NOT IN WRITERS ROOM) in Vegas and made him Staff Writer on Monday. Sure, it's weird but that stuff happens.

You can imagine then how competitive these jobs are, not only are you in line for a 425% salary bump and admission into the writer's guild...it is the final step between you and achieving your dreams.

And of course part of you is so happy for a colleague when they break through and make it.  But part of you will always be thinking, why didn't they pick me?

Was it that one time I screwed up my boss's lunch? Do I wear too much pink to the office? Is my demeanor not friendly enough at 9am? Is it because I had that last cocktail at the wrap party 2 years ago.

Of course talent works into it, but a low level staff writer in a writer's room is never going to make or break a show. They are there to pitch a couple jokes and maybe explain some recent trends to the old folks. Tinder jokes are lame now, talk about Hinge...stuff like that.

Furthermore, most of the 'young' writers you meet are pretty good. They're not bad, they're not prodigies like Damien Chazelle. Maybe incrementally better than you, or maybe they found themselves in a slightly better situation than you and they ran with it.

I would describe the feeling of seeing one of your 'friends' promoted to seeing one of your buddies start dating a girl you had a crush on.
Of course you're happy for your friend, she's a great girl....but...but

Why not me?

Should I have bought her a drink, invited her to that dance...been a man and, god forbid asked her on a date? These things will eat at you and then you go into a mode of self preservation. This my friends, is Jealous Writer's Syndrome.

Now I've drawn the parallel between your friend getting the job and your friend getting the girl. I will now expand the metaphor using a movie I'm sure you are ALL sick of me talking about but I believe it is a perfect encapsulation of this feeling.

Andrew Lincoln (Rick Grimes) in Love Actually plays the best friend of Chewetel Ejiofor (was going to call him Solomon Northrup but that feels wrong...lets just say Chewetel) who is marrying Keira Knightley.

The whole movie Rick Grimes is kind of a dick to Keira Knightley and you don't really know why. But as the movie progresses you realize that he was more so just avoiding her. When you finally figure out near the end of the film's second act that he was madly in love with her, she asks 'but you never talk to me why...'

He responds, 'it was self preservation.'

He was protecting himself from the madness that routine interaction with her would cause him. She could have been mine if only ______.

You may have found yourself grow distant from a friend that you had romantic feelings for but lost out to a buddy. I know from past circumstances I have gone head to head with friends over a girl many many times (I usually lost) but then I kind of drifted to the background because it's too painful to stay in the picture.

Furthermore any time I see a show like 'Girls' a show like 'Love' to a lesser extend a show like 'Master of None' get greenlit, I struggle to watch.

Dozens of people will ask 'did you watch _____ oh my god you would absolutely LOVE ____'

And I'm sure I would but the Jealous Writer Syndrome (JWS) in me can't allow myself to watch because you know what...I probably could have written it too...and so too could thousands of other aspiring writers out there.

Of course I'm conflicted because as a millennial I LOVE seeing our stories told. It's good for writers of my age to be getting work, I'm sure in the long run it helps us all, but somehow I just can't shake the feeling.

So while I'm happy these shows are made, I'm happy that my colleagues are promoted, it always comes back to 'but why not me?'

I believe humans are programmed to act in their own self interest and you have to really work at developing empathy and while I can really appreciate my three writer friends that broke through this year one of the reasons I find myself able to be so happy for them is they are not in direct competition with me (Sci-fi features and TV drama) it would be the equivalent of them all dating gorgeous red heads if I wasn't into red heads.

Note: I am into red heads.

But jealousy, like hate can be toxic, so I'm going to try to work though it. Perhaps I can learn how to be a better writer from my peers instead of ignoring their work altogether and feeling sorry for myself.

At a time when there is so much content there should be room for all of us and instead of dragging each other down we should be lifting each other up for the greater good. I think everyone has something to add and I am ready for the stereotype of the bitter, cynical writer to go away. We need our cleansing giant notecard scene to feel unburdened.

Because after all, we all had dreams of telling stories, and well at least mine, they all had happy endings.

4th and 1

I have long thought that the most boring play in professional sports was the punt on 4th and 1. No, not when a team is buried deep in their own territory but when the ball is around midfield and the drive has just stalled a bit and the goal is RIGHT THERE. Why would you not try to go for it? Or at least try a long field goal...something, right?

Conventional wisdom would be that the punt is the 'safe play.' If you fail on a 4th and 1, you are set up worse than had you played it safe.

Of course I am not alone in this line of thinking, there is the highly successful Arkansas high school football coach who never punts. His argument is that giving the ball back to the team when you have an opportunity to score is irrational. He has a record of 77-17. Or there is the highly publicized case of Ron Rivera, the Carolina Panthers coach. After back to back losing seasons, Cam Newton and the Carolina Panthers started out 0 and 2, perhaps due to some vanilla play calling. But one thing was certain, Ron Rivera would be fired any day...until he decided to go for it on 4th and 1, the rest of the season; earning the nickname Riverboat Ron and winning the division in the process. Two years later the Panthers would find themselves in the Superbowl.

Now one could argue that the Arkansas team probably just has talented players and would still have a great record with conservative play calling. Never punting with a 17-77 record would surely get you fired. You could also say that 2013 was Cam Newton's third season and the time he finally figured out how to play Quarterback at the NFL level, maybe it's a coincidence. Who knows?

***

Flashback to January of 2009, eight (!!!!!!) years ago. It's a Wednesday, 230pm Eastern Time, so I was probably in my advertising class. Check that. I'll be at my advertising class in five minutes. I was always late. Probably the only thing on my mind was which sorority I was going to invite over to pregame before we went to Crazy Horse (a wine bar) and then Sports (a utopia where Long Island Jews, Frat Guys and athletes hang in peaceful bliss) In the far reaches of my mind I may have been wondering what I was going to do in 5 months. But not really, to consider one's future would be to accept that college was ending.

As the semester went on, I was flown out to all the buzzy corporate jobs I applied for, Target, Kohl's, Proctor and Gamble. I didn't have any idea what I would do at any of those places but I knew I would live downtown in a mid sized city and make $60,000 a year.

I struck out.

But with a last ditch effort, I was able to get into a Kelley (IU Business school) grad program. I figured maybe I could transfer into a JDMBA program eventually and everything would be fine. But instead of making rational life decisions at the age of 22, I continued to sleep until noon in my Senior house, start drinking when I woke up and pretend that the dream wasn't over. Eventually I made half assed attempts at landing jobs in New York and LA before ultimately deciding that I needed to get a job in Chicago so that I could continue to hang out with IU Greeks.

This was a punt.

And it was a shank.

Listen to me when I tell you this, I was offered a job at Kraft, a Fortune 200 company that would have paid for my MBA eventually and I turned them down!!! Why? Because my territory was going to be Kentucky Walmarts and I thought I was above both Kentucky and Walmart.

My dad started his career at Oscar Meyer (now a subsidiary of Kraft) and his best friend that he started off with now splits his time between an Indiana lake house and a beachside condo in Florida.

So I'm in Chicago now and while many of my friends take crap jobs and then parlay them into better jobs I am content to just live in the moment, feeling like something will just be handed to me. But nothing is handed to you in life, except the one time that it was. I was fired for this blog and just so happened to know some guys at a start up that needed to open an LA office.

Moving to LA, people were so impressed. Man, David Moeller, he's really going for it. Chasing his dreams. And while it may have appeared that this was some grand gesture by me trying to grab my future by the horns, it was really more of a bail out pass interference penalty that got me out here. I probably would have never done it on my own. Just like I never did anything on my own.

***

Now it's entirely easy to look at things in the rearview and decide they were a mistake. Alabama probably regrets attempting a 57 yard field goal against Auburn in 2013. They missed, it was returned for a Touchdown and it ended their season.

The Indianapolis Colts probably regret throwing a 4th and 1 screen pass against the Houston Texans a couple weeks ago. The play was a disaster and it ended their season.

And maybe I regret a few decisions i made when I was younger. Had I played it safe, maybe I would be in a better place professionally.  Maybe I wouldn't have been down to my last 7 dollars on Christmas Eve hoping my automatic Netflix bill wouldn't hit my account sending me negative. But I've always been aggressive, I had thought. At least if I went for it and failed, I would always know...well I went for it.

There's this Bill Burr quote I always loved, when I would see photos of people on their wedding day, or going on a vacation I could never afford I would just scream at myself THERE IS A TREMENDOUS AMOUNT OF RISK TO PLAYING IT SAFE. I'm going for it, I'm trying to make my dreams happen...

And then one day it dawned on me. I've been playing it safe all along. The last 7 years I spent largely spinning my tires trying to get somewhere but not really being too frustrated because I had attained social success. Hey, I've got a lot of friends, we have fun on the weekends and if Monday - Thursday suck, at least I've got Friday and Saturday. I was distracted from living my own life by trying to keep the party alive. Hey, I may still be getting writers coffee, but yo we've got that ski trip coming up.

And as Mr. Burr says...there is a tremendous amount of risk to playing it safe.

This year is my 4th and 1. Approaching 30 has given me some perspective. People grow up, you have to leave Neverland eventually, and when it's all over will I be a guy who kinda sorta gave it a shot in LA or will I be the success story that so many people are hoping for?

I'm going to try a few things this year:

First, I'm going to write something every day. Maybe not on here, maybe not a script. Perhaps it will be a haiku on how the Indiana Hoosiers latest loss made me feel.

IU Turnovers

Are extremely depressing

Just like Lala Land*

*only the ending really

**no that's not a clever way to say that LA is depressing, for real the last 3 minutes of the movie

But ya, if accountants can...um account every day, then a 'writer' should be able to write every day.

Second, I'll try to be uplifting or at least real. It's fun to be knock off Tucker Max once in a while, but I've found people respond better when I write from the heart, so this year I'm going to stop pretending to be someone I'm not for the first time in my life, and see how it goes.

Third, I'm going to go for it.

Now that doesn't mean I'm going to leave LA or quit the industry if I can't make something happen this year, but I'm going to really commit to being a better version of myself and do my best. Hopefully that's enough. And if it's not, well I'll know I went for it.

***

Conventional wisdom would say that on a 4th and 1 there will be a run play or even a short 2 yard out pattern. As is such the defense will often load the box with as many defenders as possible.

Now often this play will come down to who has the better offensive line. Grown men competing for 3 feet of real estate. Who wants it more, and a run up the middle or even a QB sneak are not uncommon.

But once in a while....every once in a while, the quarterback will have a trick up his sleeve. While everyone was competing for those three feet at the line of scrimmage, people forgot to worry about the deep out pattern.

Why would they? You only need one yard to gain the first down. But the first down is just an incremental goal right, the ultimate goal is the end zone, and of course it is a much higher risk to chuck the ball down the field that to just dive up the middle.

And going deep doesn't always work. But if on 4th and 1 you just keep doing what you've been doing all along hoping for a different result, well isn't that just playing it safe?

Sometimes you have to switch things up and go for all the marbles.

Happy New Year everyone.

2000 Miles

December was a strange month. At the beginning I was still cashing checks from a rather kush job at the Mindy Project, had two roommates that I had lived with for years and nothing but optimism about the future. In a few short weeks, my job ended, my roommates moved out and I found myself alone watching love actually and drowning in a bottle of whiskey.

I had always threatened to be the guy that didn't go home for Christmas. Why would I? There's nothing left for me in Indianapolis. A couple friends that I may or may not see, but most people got out, are now exploring the world the way I have always wanted to. Christmas at home meant watching It's a Wonderful life on Christmas Eve, opening a few presents Christmas morning and then sitting in the basement for a few days watching screeners by myself while my parents went to work.

Why waste such a glorious vacation on the cold and grey of Indianapolis when I could run away to Europe or South America and go on an adventure? Post photos from exotic locations to let everyone know that 'I'm living my best life!' Watch the comments and likes rolling in as I sipped a cocktail with my new international friends.

The problem was that as I so often do in los angeles, I ran out of money. I had even been hired to write on a pilot (!!!!!) in December. My first writing credit! But unfortunately you cannot go to the Disney Channel and tell them that you need an advance on your paycheck so that you can hop on a flight to Cabo to party for New Year's.

So I sat and drank cheap whiskey, watching every Christmas Movie on Netflix trying to reassure myself that being alone on the holidays wasn't the worst thing in the world.

My mom must have known as such because I received a phone call from my dad the next morning.

'I'm coming to la for Christmas. We're going on a road trip.'

Now if you don't now my father you should understand a few things. He first got a cell phone in 2011. He still has it, it's a flip phone. He absolutely despises travel. He would be perfectly content to come home from work every night and watch old John Wayne movies with the two family cats. So it came as a bit of a shock to me that he was impulsively flying to Venice for a last minute trip, let alone that he would want to do anything other than sit at the beach when he got here.

Apparently my mom had told him she couldn't bare the thought of her two sons being alone on Christmas, so even though she works retail and couldn't possibly get away during the busy season, she dispatched my father to come hang with me for a few days.

I picked my dad up at the airport 8am on Christmas morning where we immediately went to a rental car agency to get a car for the week. They were out of the budget Hyundai Sonata we had reserved so we were generously upgraded us to a 2017 Ford Mustang GT. It's the only time I have ever had a good experience with a car rental. The first stop on the trip was Wickenburg, Arizona. I had never heard of it either, but it just so happens to be a small town outside of Phoenix where my brother is living at the moment, trying to get a few issues straightened out.

I spent Christmas day driving 110 miles per hour east on the I-10 so I could spend an hour hanging out in a Quality Inn Hotel hot tub with my brother. It meant the world to him. I felt guilty scrolling through Twitter and Instagram seeing seemingly every person I have ever met on some wild family vacation in some sunny exotic locale. It made me long for the days driving to Florida for an Iowa bowl game, or ski trips to Tahoe, but I knew at the moment, this was important. This was where I needed to be.

I spent the night of Christmas at a bar called The Mecca. Nearly everyone in there was a tobacco chewing, cowboy hat wearing, Trump supporter. I realized something they also had in common was that they were alone. Whereas I sometimes choose to be alone, they had all come to this local watering hole trying to fill a void in their lives, I had come here because my dad had fallen asleep at 9pm and our hotel bar had closed early. Divorced dads missing their kids, Widows missing their partners, and me...

The next day was a four hour jaunt to Vegas. I dropped the top of the Mustang as we crossed the Hoover Dam and even convinced the front desk guy at our hotel to upgrade our room. He was from Venice. I told him the awol crew sticks together. He agreed and put us in a Penthouse Suite.

There isn't a ton to do in Vegas with your dad if he is not an alcoholic or a degenerate gambler so we had a few beers at the sports book and then did dinner at Todd's English Pub where the beer is always free if you can finish it in 7 seconds or less. (I finished in 6 seconds, Still got it.)

Dad went to bed around 9 again, leaving me hours to wander the Strip and ponder everything going on in my life, those thoughts you can only have while sipping out of an open container on las vegas blvd. Should I have gone to law school? Would I be married and comfortable if I had? Am i doing the right thing by being out here in la? Did I go wrong somewhere, I was always told I had so much potential. Part of me wondered if I should at least try to manufacture an epic night for myself, maybe I could find a girl, leave Vegas with a tale for the ages. Part of me felt lie I should just have a couple of those absurdly fruity drinks that come in the comically tall plastic cups and call it a night, I opted for the later. Maybe I am growing up.

The following morning we opted to drive up to Northern California. Indiana was playing in a bowl game against Utah and I had a long lost cousin that lived in San Jose. My father and I both love college football and it seemed a reasonable enough idea. Eight hours is how long we spent in the car that day. Talking about life, my hopes, his health, the future; things you don't have a chance to discuss when you live 2000 miles from your family. We made it to a little Mexican place in Campbell, CA had a burrito and their famous cocktail 'the Swirl' (6 shots!) before calling it a night.

The game was the following day. I spent it wandering the parking lot of levi's stadium drinking beer out of a Coors 12 pack and saying hello to fellow Hoosiers fans. I met legend Antwaan Randle-El and somehow my dad scored us some club level seats for free. The Hoosiers lost, but it didn't really matter. We met a lot of nice people and then spent the night at my cousins house telling stories from years past.

The 5 hours back to la the following day it sunk in to me that I had never really spent this much time with my dad before, at least not one on one. I had never thought we really shared that much in common. We butted heads a lot when I was younger. He grew up in a town of just over 500 and I never thought he understood me. He's a sales guy, unafraid of chatting with anyone. I tend to not enjoy talking to strangers. He's a homebody, I want to explore and while it was always very important for him to get married and have a family, I have always been much more independent. But when you're in a car with somebody for that long, you start to hear stories you didn't know; The summer dad rented a house in Colorado, the times he used to come to la for the Rose Bowl and spend hours playing foosball in Hermosa Beach at the Poop Deck, the times he would show up in Vegas without a hotel reservation and just 'see what happens.' Perhaps we weren't that different after all.

But what I always did know is that he would do anything for me. Without my dad, I wouldn't be able to survive in los angeles. I support myself for the most part, but if say I got hit by a car tomorrow and my health insurance didn't cover it a, I would be toast. I have a support system, I have people that love me. I have people that will drop everything and come to la on the off chance I'm feeling lonely.

As I've grown older I see a lot of friends losing loved ones and I can't imagine how gut wrenching it is. Sure it's a part of life, but I'm sure there is a part of you that is never ready. I'm extremely thankful for a week of memories I was able to make with my dad. I'll not soon forget our 2000 miles in a Mustang. I'll never forget Christmas in Wickenburg with my brother. I'll never forget betting the over in the Planet Hollywood sports book and celebrating with rowdy Detroit fans in the midst of their 5 day bender.

If you would have asked me if an impromptu Southwestern road trip was the Christmas Break I wanted, I would have probably told you no. What about Cuba or Australia or some other bucket list item? I mean San Jose isn't really the mecca of tourism right? 2000 miles could have gotten me to Mexico City or Hawaii or even Chicago!

But in the end, it was the trip I needed. Family is important. Making memories is important and it serves as a reminder that any time I get a little low on myself I need to remember there are people out there willing to fight for me. I enter 2017 with a lot of uncertainty. I'm about to turn 30. I don't have a job and I'm not quite sure what the future holds. I certainly don't have all the answers as I try to make it work for myself out here.

But what I do know is that there are a lot of people on my team. And that counts for something.

How to save the frats

I think it's time to acknowledge a problem with the United States Greek system, an institution near and dear to my heart.

I had a good time in my fraternity at Indiana. I still hang out with a large majority of the guys from my house in college, I have lived with one for the past five years. On Friday, I hosted my annual fifth exchange a, tradition I picked up at my fraternity chapter in college. For the uninitiated, the fifth exchange behaves as a 'secret santa' but instead of traditional gifts we exchange bottles of alcohol and proceed to get very, very drunk.

Sure it's a bit sophomoric for friends approaching 30 to celebrate the holidays by blacking out in absurd Christmas sweaters reminiscing about good times past, but as you get older you understand the importance of tradition. When guys get married, have kids and move away, it becomes much more difficult to get the gang back together and catch up.

Saturday I woke up with a headache around noon and began scrolling through some news stories, a very important part of my hangover routine on the weekends. One caught my eye "Tufts University Suspends Fraternity Activities."

I cringed, as I do when I see any of these stories. Something very bad must have happened. Alcohol poisoning, an accusation of sexual assault or worse, a hazing related death. It turned out that a former pledge had written an op-ed in the school paper proposing the abolition of fraternities. During a 'stripper night' the author claimed he had been forced to watch strippers do...well stripper things.

Instead of punishing the aforementioned fraternity in question, Tufts University decided instead to cease all fraternity activities effective immediately. Now, I do not have all of the facts so I will not pass judgement on the accuser or the fraternity but at face value it does seem to be a bit of an overreaction.

Now I do not know if Ben kesslen, the author of 'Abolish Fraternities' ever truly felt unsafe during a stripper night. I know that my fraternity had a stripper night and I was free to leave at any time. I know that as a pledge I was forced to clean, drive and do push-ups, but I was free to leave at any time. I suppose if I ever felt truly unwanted I would have left and then gone on living my life.

A quick Google search will show that nearly a dozen fraternities have been suspended in the past month for the usual infractions: offensive emails, offensive parties, displaying affection for Donald Trump, hazing allegations, drinking too much, mistreatment of women. It seems in this more sensitive political environment fraternities no longer have a home.

But notice that the suspension of chapters has done little to nothing to correct the problem. Anecdotally I can tell you that a certain chapter at my school tried to murder someone with a stop sign, aggressively sold cocaine, videotaped themselves banging strippers and yet; they were still the coolest guys on campus, just banished to some giant off campus houses that were under even less supervision.

No, the way to fix the problem with the American fraternity is to take away the ability of the dickheads to fuck hot chicks.

RECORD SCRATCH.

But this was a well reasoned article written earnestly about something the author really cares about and you just threw it all away with that last sentence.

Ya well now it's a satire piece. You good? If not, here's a safe space. Is Disney that safe? I dunno, it's just the site thehun.com used to send me to if I accidentally said I was under 18.

Now, without further ado, my plan to save the frats...

To begin my story we are going to turn to the small country of Wales! Home to Sir Anthony Hopkins, Rogue One Director Gareth Evans and of course Swansea City FC.

For those that do not follow British football, Swansea City is a club that plays in the English Premier league, the only non-English team to do so. If you are unfamiliar with the English Premier league, the American equivalent would be something like major league baseball...and Swansea has long been a middle of the road team, mid market lie say the San Diego Padres.

Now in American sports if you suck balls for a season, nothing bad really happens. Your attendance may drop a bit, but nothing drastic. In fact some teams even use it as strategy to acquire a higher draft pick, this would be called tanking. However, in the Premiership and most of European soccer there is something called 'relegation and promotion' which punishes clubs in the bottom of a league and rewards others at the top.

An American example would be saying that the San Diego Padres have the worst record in major league baseball so they are booted to AAA.

Now let's get back to our friends at Swansea. in 2015, Swansea finished in the middle of the table (British for standings) and that same year, The Mirror, a British publication, ballparked their valuation as a team at 180 million pounds. That included tv deals, endorsements and ticket revenue among other things.

Flash forward to December 2016, Swansea is currently in 18th place (out of 20) in the English Premier league with 18, 19 and 20 getting relegated to the Football Championship, the next tier lower on the British ladder (AAA)

Now obviously this would be shitty for them. No one wants to go from playing in the top league to a worse league. But furthermore it impacts their bottom line aggressively. The Guardian, ran a piece saying that a club can lose up to 60 million pounds to relegation. Again, attendance is likely to drop, and some endorsements will go away but the big money is in the TV deal. How often do you see your local minor league baseball team on ESPN, not a lot, right?

Now there are parachute payments to ease the burden, but these run out eventually and according to my crude math, it appears that an eventual 60 million hit to Swansea would equate to roughly a third of Swansea's valuation.

Now let's leave our Welsh friends alone for a while and talk about frats.

People join frats for a variety of reasons: friendship, networking connections, place to live and party, athletics...but the number one reason is to have sex with hot chicks.

As difficult as it may be to read that sentence, the majority of the well off, cute, popular girls end up in sororities and the easiest way to access them is to join a fraternity.

But not just any fraternity; a top tier fraternity.

Similar to sports divisions, fraternities have an unofficial ranking structure: top tier and bottom tier. Sometimes top, middle and bottom tier. And just like the Indianapolis Indians don't play against the Chicago Cubs, Chi Phi doesn't pair with Tri Delt for parties.

Now here is where things are going to get a little weird...what if, for the sake of argument, we went ahead and made these tiers official:
Top tier frats were only allowed to pair with top tier sororities.
Bottom tier frats were only allowed to pair with bottom tier sororities.

Violation of these rules would automatically send you to the bottom of your tier.

Now it seems crass to categorize someone by a 'tier' right? But how are Greek houses ranked now? GPA? Campus involvement? Intramural success?

And of course how attractive and awesome you are.

But there ARE objective numbers we already use. There are some anomalies, but for the most part, that IS a good representation of the IU fraternities ranked socially.

People are competitive by nature, no one wants to be at the bottom, so what if instead of 'suspending fraternities and sororities' we rather knocked them down a division for their crimes.

Hazing allegations? That will hurt you.
Offensive party? You lose points.
Cyber bullying? Relegation is looming.
Alcohol abuse/inappropriate treatment of women/cheating scandal/etc. etc. etc.

You're fucked.

At the end of every semester, the bottom three top tier frats are relegated to the 'bottom tier.'

Now if we return to our soccer example, remember this cost our Swansea friends 33% of their value!

Fraternities might not have a monetary value per se, so let's call it social influence. Obviously you can't ban individual sorority members from hanging out with individual fraternity members, but one must wonder, would they want to if said frat boy had lost a third of his social influence?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Is Pi kappa Phi still cool if it can ony invite a bottom tier house to their swampwater party?
Is ATO still top dog if they can't take Chi O on boats?

To take a moment to focus on the sororities, would there be as many diversity scandals with 'bottom tier' looming. Could it hep eliminate transphobia among the panhellenic council?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

But along with discouraging bad behavior, a system of relegation and promotion encourages GOOD behavior.

Jumping back to our baseball example...if we banish the Padres to AAA, someone has take their spot in mlb. For kicks let's use my beloved AAA Indianapolis Indians. If they were to go on a heater and finish in the top 3 of AAA they could be promoted to the show. I'm mixing metaphors here, but the reward for promotion in the epl (we're at soccer now, keep up) is about 100 million pounds, this could triple the value of a smaller lower division team.

The Greek example here is we go back to Chi Phi a middle of the road oft forgotten frat. They put up a good GPA one semester, get involved on campus, win a couple intramural events and treat their fellow students with respect, a promotion could triple their social influence.

Now are the Pi Phis automatically going to want to bang the Chi Phi dudes, maybe not, but the exposure wouldn't hurt. loo at the nfl's Rooney rule. Maybe a top-tier sorority girl will realize that they think guys that aspire to be high achievers and not just do drugs and scream racial slurs are pretty cool!

It certainly isn't a perfect solution but it might be better than just pushing the cool kids underground for 18 months every time they fuck up. At the very least I don't see anything wrong with starting a conversation about punishing people that do wrong and rewarding people that do good. If it takes gameifying the frat structure to save it, then by all means let's try it.

And as for the frat guys out there, I know you aren't a fucktards, rapists and sociopaths.

I know that Arabian Nights Parties are fun, I know that Pimps and Hoes is a great theme, I think hazing made me a better person too, but just knock that shit off for 4 years so the rest of your life you can remember college fondly as opposed to what could have been.

He's Still Not That Into You

My mom was tending bar at a Max and Erma's in Indianapolis. Like a lot of kids with family money she had graduated from college and was pursuing a graduate degree because she didn't really know what she wanted in life. Her late father had worked at Harvard, he had been on the team with Watson and Crick that cracked the human genome and she was a bartender. She was probably feeling a little inadequate. We are probably more similar than I like to admit.

Then some guy walked in with his softball buddies. It was a Thursday night in Indianapolis, going to a knock off TGI Friday's was probably their best bet. A young woman brought them waters and told them to phone in their order when they were ready. It was the late 70's, lots of restaurants still had gimics.

The guy picks up the phone, orders a round of beers and burgers for his buddies...and he asked for the waitress's number.

And that's how my dad met my mom.

***

You're not going to get that story.

 It's over.

You're going to meet your future partner on Bumble or you are going to have a one night stand after too many Jell-O shots and then look at the person in bed with you and think 'maybe we can make this work.'

That is dating in the modern world, like it or not.

If you're under 30, you've probably had these thoughts...

"Should I try to be funny?"

"What open ended question will lead to a long conversation?"

"Should I text back immediately? Play hard to get? Do I look desperate?"

"Do I sleep with him/her? Or will they lose interest?"

"What if I don't sleep with them at first and then they give me more of a chance?"

"DO I PLAY THE GAME?"

It's all bullshit.

Of course there is always going to be someone having an upper hand in a relationship, but the minute these questions start popping into your head, it's dead on arrival. I'm sorry, your Bumble relationship has miscarried.


Flash back to 2004, 'My Boo' was the number one song in the country. I still had gigantic fake diamonds in my ears and everyone was freaking the fuck out about some book called 'He's Just Not That Into You.'

The thesis of the book was essentially, 'If a guy isn't acting interested, it's because he isn't.'

It's not because he's taking a shower, or he has too much work to do, or because his phone is dead. If he cared, he would find a way to show you. The book was written as an exercise in self help by a male comedian and the chick that wrote 'How to be Single.' What followed was a wake up call by the women of America who realized for the first time to stop making excuses for shitty guys. It was somehow empowering.

5 years later the movie version came out and gave us terrible try hard Ginnifer Goodwin, but also gave us a gentle reminder that he is in fact, not that into you.

But then in 2012 an app called Tinder came out, normalized online dating and took all of the lessons that we had learned over the last 8 years and set them on fire.

It was fun for a while.

'They gays have Grindr,' the straights thought, 'why can't we fuck too?'

And fuck they did. Hook-up culture was at an all time high and swiping right became the new going out.

But then it happened.

You were at brunch or something and you heard that Vicki had actually met her boyfriend on Tinder. Furthermore you heard that they were kind of serious and thinking about moving in with each other. This information gave you hope. And as we know, hope can be a very dangerous thing.

The clones followed. Coffee Meet Bagel, Hinge, Jdate, JSwipe and finally Bumble.

Soon the same people that would have NEVER confessed to being on the dating sites OK Cupid and Match just a few years ago were relieved to find out that dating online had been destigmatized.

And now every single white girl under the age of 30 is on Bumble (an app completely based on the concept that men are too chicken shit to initiate conversation with women) looking for love. This becomes problematic because the guys on Bumble are still the guys from Tinder in 2012 that were looking to fuck.

I understand that women have a biological clock and I understand that I am a former frat guy that still does hard drugs and has one serious relationship in his belt but listen to me when I tell you, the dude you are talking to on Bumble is likely a fuck boy. Or he is kind of an overeager loser. Or at the very least you are probably going to date down.

But let's say you find the unicorn on dating apps and he gets a little flakey, or he is unresponsive, he says things like 'we should hang out' but never sets a date...I have news for you.

He's just not that into you.

It doesn't matter what joke you tell, what question you ask, what date you suggest. No amount of workshopping your response with your girlfriends or your coworkers is going to change that. He probably made a split second decision the minute he met you whether you were a one night stand, a potential girlfriend, or just someone to waste time with.

If you are in on the one night stand? Go for it, live your life. And if he thinks you guys might have a future, you will know.

If I am into a girl I will pull over to the side of the freeway to respond to her texts, I will get out of the shower to answer her call, I will profusely apologize in the morning for missing her late night text. I will be available on Gchat all day, I will send stupid ecards to their email. They will know I'm interested.

And if it's something in the middle? Well no one has time for that. The guy that periodically texts you, keeps you in that in between phase? He's doing that so he can have something to do if he is bored or needs a desperation plus one. Fuck that guy. Kick him to the curb.

I know because I have been that guy.

If you find yourself staring at a profile picture of Noah that went to UC Santa Clara and while you are staring at his surfer pic wondering if his cock is a Frank's Red Hot bottle or a standard office depot yellow highlighter that's ok. You should find out. But know that he is swiping right on hundreds of girls a night playing a number's game.

I know because I have been that guy.

If you think these guys have 'work dinners' or are actually playing on 5 softball teams or really get sick this often, you are naive and falling victim to special snowflake syndrome. He's clearly just keeping you on the bench. He's just not that into you.

People find love on the internet. It does happen, but if you're ever unsure, it's already over. Move on. Go to a pregame, meet a friend of a friend of a friend. You'll probably have something in common and won't have to evaluate your entire future based on five photographs and some intermittent texting.

It works both ways too gentlemen, if she's distant it's not because she's getting her nails done it's because she's got some other guy's dick in her mouth or because she just doesn't give a fuck about you.

I know...because I have definitely been that guy.

So let's do something, let's all make a commitment not to let ourselves be manipulated by our own expectations, let's be honest and have respect for ourselves. Don't twist the narrative to fit some magic fairy tale we've written in our own heads because it probably doesn't have a happy ending and it shouldn't take a bad Justin Long rom com to remind us of these lessons we've learned many times in the past.

Be a Doctor

Don't panic.

So you waited until Wednesday to Prime a Sexy Harambe costume and it ended up in Venice, FL instead of Venice, CA. You now have seven hours to put together a costume or your Halloween will be ruined and the rest of 2016 will suck. You're probably having a worse day than Hilary Clinton.

But don't worry. I've been there and I've got your back. Listen very carefully to what I am about to say.

First you need a friend who is a doctor. If you don't have a friend that is a doctor you should get one. They can call in Z packs for you if you ever get sick or have a curable STD. But if you don't have a doctor friend, go to the Scrubs store.

That's right, when everyone is going to the Halloween outlet to pick over what's left of the overpriced shitty costumes, you are going straight to Scrubs Unlimited in Westwood where you will buy a pair of short sleeved breathy scrubs. If you work on a medical show like the Mindy Project, you can just go hit on the costume PA for 20 minutes until she gives you some rejected wardrobe.

If you haven't figured it out yet, you are going to be a doctor for Halloween. It's a simple costume really, it's comfortable, but it also opens up the world of a surprising amount of bits.

For example. One of your accessories is going to be a note pad. Any time you see a girl that you would like to have intercourse with, you walk up to her and say the following:

"What ails you my dear, I am a doctor."

No matter what she says, you will pull out your note pad and prescribe her something...like shots.

She will love it, it's hilarious.

On every prescription you will put your phone number on it and say something like 'If you have any side effects in the morning give me a call."

There is a 23% chance you will get a text in the morning saying 'Dr. I'm having some side effects, I may need a house call."

The good thing about being a doctor though is that you can prescribe more than shots. Feeling bold? Prescribe a kiss. Did you manage to wrangle a stethoscope? Check their pulse, ask her to take a deep breath and cough, this establishes kino, the art of touch.

Be creative, be obnoxious. Preface lots of statements with 'trust me, I'm a doctor' you can even lie and pretend you ARE a real doctor. Don't break character all night.

I guarantee you will have a good time and you and everyone around you will get very drunk.

Congratulations, your Halloween has been saved.