I can't type. Ponzi vs. Fonzi. Be like Vester.

THE BRUTAL TRUTH:

“I CAN’T TYPE. PONZI VS. FONZI. BE LIKE VESTER”


Now that I don’t have a job…I can only order takeout and watch so much football. So I think I’m gonna start writing for a living…I’m rpetty damn clever. But I should definitelt write, not type based on the last few words I just typed. I’m to typing what Charles Barkley is to the golf swing. My typing is like a yo mamma joke…

Yo typing is so ugly….((insert your punchline here. I don’t have one…yet. But if I did, I’m sure it would have a tpyo in it.))

This is not a blog. It’s not a letter. I don’t know what it is…but it’s me. And it’s what I’m doing right now.

I’m one of millions of Americans out of work. I just happen to be a television sports anchor/political commentator/college football radio analyst living in Toledo, Ohio.

Not many can say that can they?

I thought I was the only guy to run a marathon and go to a World Series game in the same day. ((Chicago Marathon/game 2 Tigers & Cards October 22, 2006)).

Now I’m fairly certain I’m the only out of work television sportscaster/political commentator/college football radio color analyst living in Toledo to ever run a marathon and go to the World Series in the same day.

Which is great.…if it earned me a paycheck…but it doesn’t.

So what now? That’s the question I, along with millions of others, am facing.

The answer will be different for each of us. For me, a single 38-year old dude with a only a mortgage to worry about and no kiddos….i will continue to pursue my professional passion. I will chase down the dream of getting paid to do something I love, most of the time. Even when it doesn’t love me back and decides to fire me.

For the 46 year old divorced guy with 4 kids and a stack of credit card bills…his answer will probably be different then the single mom or the retired postman. It will be different then the alcoholic uncle, the new college graduate, the odd family down the street, and most certainly different then Bernie Madoff.

Who, by the way clarified for us that Ponzi is not near as cool as Fonzi. Thanks Bern.

*((Bernie just a heads up buddy, the large man in the cell next to you may call you Potsy instead of Ponzi. And he may try and whisper it in your ear when the guards are on a smoke break.))

What do I, we, they do when the economy’s the worst it’s been since the depression. When many of us lose our jobs. When most corporate suits are in “cover their ass” mode. When a real life game of musical chairs is goin’ on and the music’s about to stop. It’s a time when good men will look the other in the eye and lie. It’s a time when decent people decide to cannibalize the guy two cubicles to the left.

Ever see the movie Spaceballs??? Where the character pizza the hut got hungry and ate himself? America is pizza the hut. We’re close to eating ourselves to death. If the United States of America was a person and a documentary was made about our country. Right now the USA would be the 700 pound woman that needs the crane to get her out of her house. We’re fat, we’re sweaty, we’re gross, we’re out of shape and we just had a severe heart attack. But we’re still alive. Barely.

And for the last several years we’ve been lying to ourselves about how good we look and how healthy we are.

We’re the turkey in the movie Christmas Vacation. Looks great on the outside…but when Clarke cuts into it….it pops like a balloon. It’s all hot air and no guts. We’re miss teen South Carolina. She looks perfect. She’s the girl next door. But then she speaks and we learn the truth.

And for the longest time nobody cared because we all had jobs. Now I don’t, you don’t and neither do a lot of people.

But the solution is actually very simple. Not just for me. Not just for the suits or your alcoholic uncle. The solution is simple for us all.

Do what my grandfather, a world war II army veteran who had arms like Popeye, did. He was forced to drop out of school and work on a trash truck when his mom and dad made him pay room and board in the 6th grade.

Do what Vester Clayton Gilkey, a mechanic for the post office, did.

Survive.

Get up. Grab your lunch bucket. Make no excuses. Look in the mirror and go find a job. Do what the greatest generation did. Work hard. Take pride in your work. Be accountable and treat people the right way. Refuse to be a victim, treat your family and the people in your life better then you treat the BMW you can’t afford.

It’s time to stop being all hot air and start bein’ all guts again.

It’s time to survive.

It’s time for us all to be Americans. Again.