Super Bowl Announcer Al Michaels is a Fugitive

Do you believe in criminals? Yes!

If you read the interview of sports broadcasting legend Al Michaels in today’s Wall Street Journal, you’ll, like I was, be surprised to learn that the voice of this year’s Super Bowl is a petty thief. It’s actually a great story.

Back in 2000 on the night of the Presidential election, Michaels found himself in the same Nashville hotel as THE Al Gore. That evening Al Gore called “President-elect” George W. Bush to concede. Then, hours later, Al Gore picked up the phone in his hotel room and called back W, withdrawing his concession to begin the most contentious election in American political history.

Al Michaels made his way down the hall to Al Gore’s hotel suite and strangely found the door ajar. Michaels entered the room and noticed no one was around. But, there in all its glory was the phone Al Gore had used to call W. Twice. Like any sane man raking in millions every year in a broadcast booth, Michaels decided it was “finders keepers” and snatched the phone, returning to his room.

The concession/non-concession phone today resides in storage in Michaels’ garage. And the fugitive thief remains on the run, trying to hide from authorities as roughly 115 million people listen to and see him tomorrow night. Book ’em Danno, ah, er, Glendale Police.

Mitt and Putin ONE; Obama and Hillary ZERO

Every PR person worth their salt knows that timing is not just everything; sometimes it’s the only thing. Consider what happened today on opposite sides of Mother Earth. In the U.S., Mitt Romney rocked the political world by abandoning what seemed like a sure run for the White House in which he was leading in every major poll of Republican hopefuls. Thousands of miles away, Russian-supported troops took over a town in Eastern Ukraine.

 Two-plus years ago, President Obama cockily mocked then-candidate Mitt Romney in a debate because Romney had the “audacity” to suggest that Russia was our country’s biggest geo-political threat. Earlier, of course, Obama and Obama alone had “fixed” the problem with Russia when he whispered sweet nothings into the ear of Putin’s bag man, then President Dmitri “Can I buy a vowel” Medvedev: “I need space. This is my last election. After my election I have more flexibility.” Medvedev replied, “I understand. I will transmit this information to Vladimir.” Transmit? Wow, spoken as only a true Russian Commie can.

 Obama had every right to be confident in his ability to be the quintessential world leader. (Not!) After all, earlier he had sent his Secretary of State to Moscow where Hillary pushed a “Reset” button, ala Staples. Famously, the Russian word for reset is “perezagruzka,” but ‘ol Hill had a button with the word “peregruzka” on it. Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrow “playfully” told the Secretary her button meant “overcharged.” Mrs. Clinton then, infamously, started to cackle like a hyena on crack.

 Sadly, as we all know now, Romney was right all along, despite Obama’s smart-assed diss. And Putin now knows how weak we are as a global force under our President; so much so he can do what he pleases in his backyard and support all kinds of bad actors – from Iran, to Syria, to North Korea and now to Greece. And with each new day, the world gets a lot scarier because Hillary botched a “reset” and Obama has more “flexibility.” I suppose that bending over backwards to help the bad guys is a sign of flexibility…or, more likely, the lack of a spine.

 I hope that as a country, we don’t make the same mistake in 2016 that too many made in 2012, even after the hope-and-change-turned-folly of 2008 was staring voters in the face.

White House Should Hire Baghdad Bob; at least he was entertaining

I believe in the craft of Public Relations, when it is done right, which starts with telling the truth. As I wrote in chapter one of my book, “Tell it like it is, clearly and succinctly. Natalie Wood did not die from ‘excessive hydration.” She drowned. And Tupac Shakur didn’t die from ‘lead poisoning.’ He was shot. The art of being clever or linguistically illusive will compromise the integrity of your organization.”

The Obama Administration has a master’s degree in linguistic illusiveness, from Benghazi to the IRS to Obamacare. But yesterday’s example took the cake; at least for now. Described as a “rookie” White House spokesman, Eric Schultz embarrassed himself and, unfortunately, the craft of Public Relations. Supposedly this White House adheres to a decades-old U.S. policy of negotiating with terrorists: we don’t. At least not publicly. When asked how exchanging five Taliban operatives from Gitmo for soldier and alleged deserter Sgt. Bowe Bergdahl did not violent that policy, Schultz twisted like a Rold Gold pretzel in one of the most painful press conferences I have ever witnessed. It was part Anthony “Show me your” Weiner, part Baghdad Bob.

Rookie Schultz called the Taliban an “armed insurgency” as opposed to ISIS, which he said was “a terrorist group.” When a befuddled ABC News reporter followed up that pathetic answer by asking Schultz why he didn’t think the Taliban was a terrorist group, the young White House PR guy’s head almost exploded until he attempted an answer: “I don’t think that the Taliban (painfully long pause)…the Taliban is an armed insurgency.” And then, when finished, I think Schultz experienced one of those annoying vomit burps.

Schultz had another painful gem while making a fool of himself. He said the prisoner swap was a “traditional end-of-conflict interaction.” Think the Japanese and Germans at the end of WWII. But obviously Schultz had been paying more attention to ProActive zit cream ads than actually reading the news. The “conflict” with the Taliban is far from over.

Just last month, the Taliban went into the Army Public School and Degree College in Peshhawar, Pakistan and slaughtered 145 people, more than 100 of which were children. Don’t know about you, but that sounds a whole lot like garden variety terrorism.

Perhaps as a PR practitioner I should cut Schultz some slack. Hell, maybe this White House has put miniature cattle prods in the ears of its spokespeople and those talking similarly at the State Department. Say the words “terrorist” or “Radical Islam” and you get a massive jolt.

But I am not cutting any slack for Schultz or chief spokesman Josh Earnest or the spokeswomen at the State Department. They all have been a disgrace to my profession and, more importantly, the United States of America. Look for Saturday Night Live to open up their next show mocking this national embarrassment.

Uncle Joe and #FreeCommunityCollege: Stupid is as Stupid Does

Saw a tweet from my Uncle Joe today. My uncle is your uncle: Uncle Joe Biden, Vice President of the United States.

Our, and yes, my Vice President, tweeted to showcase three mega-millionaires that were alumni of community colleges. The Axis-of-Success are stellar: Tom ‘Forrest, Forrest Gump” Hanks, George “Star Wars” Lucas and Steve Wozniak, co-founder of Apple. Good message; no complaints.

Uncle Joe was tweeting with the tagline #FreeCommunityCollege, an initiative launched at his boss’s State of the Union speech earlier this month. It was a hollow pitch by President Obama, knowing Republicans would, rightfully trash it. After all, students of poor families, through the 50-year-old Pell Grant program, generally get community college free, anyway. It’s been a good thing for some time. President Obama’s “new idea” means that students that can afford community college, mostly from middle-class families, can get two years of “free” community college as well.

Well, we all know that nothing in life is truly “free”; somebody has to pay for it. And, of course, at its foundation, it is a continuing theme of this Administration: redistribution of wealth. Sadly, this time, the “redistribution” TO the middle class is FROM the same middle class.

The Obama Administration threw up a trial balloon filled with what I am certain was methane gas: they would tax the I.R.S. 529 Accounts in which families set aside money – pre-tax — for their kids to go to college. It has been and is a wondrous program for families – especially middle class families – to give their kids a leg up and avoid the iceberg of student loan hell this Administration has designated as a “problem.” So how did the Obama Administration propose to “fix” this fantastic “529 problem-avoidance?” Tax it. Duh.

Thankfully, the Administration quickly flushed this turd of an idea.

Uncle Joe. Mr. Vice President, who’s counseling your people? It appears the left hand on Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, D.C. doesn’t know what the right hand is doing.

Or, perhaps, the Left Hand doesn’t know what the Left Hand is doing.

Uncle Joe, one of the community college grads you are spotlighting, Tom Hanks, said it best: “Stupid is as stupid does.”

My New Documentary About Michael Moore

With my first book under my wing, I have decided to turn to documentaries. My first is about the life and times of Flint “filmmaker” Michael Moore. I’m hoping to get Seth Rogen to play the part of Moore in his early years and have former Vermont Governor Howard Dean to play the part of former GM CEO Roger Smith. I’ve just begun laying out the script and desperately need a working title. I’ve put together a few thoughts and I’m hoping my friends will weigh in and let me know what they like best.

Here goes:

Gigantic

Raging Bullshit

The Waistrix

Assatar

American Diaper

D Cup

4X-Men

Hairy Fodder

Despicable Me – Always

Shriek

Slider-Man

The Lying King

Yourassic Park

The Hungry Game

Slow and Furious

Please help me decide. Thanks.

Saw American Sniper and my wife wants “to kick Michael Moore’s (blank) ass.”

Just saw American Sniper with my wife. As we walked out of the theater and she wiped away tears, her first words weren’t “what a great movie.” They were: “I want to kick Michael Moore’s (blank) ass.”

If you see it, you cannot objectively say this movie glorifies war or “defends” President W’s decision to invade Iraq as many have suggested in the media. It is gritty, troubling and graphically depicts the horror of war – for the good guys, the bad guys and those – including the kids — sadly caught in the crossfire. But one thing is undeniable: the late American sniper Chris Kyle was and is an undeniable hero in the greatest tradition of our country…the world.

For “filmmaker” Moore to call Kyle a “coward” because he was a sniper, and then double-down on those cowardly comments, led my wife to determine: “Michael Moore – no way – saw the movie”. Or, I surmised, if he did and still believes in what he is spewing, he is more than a coward; he is a traitor, a pathetic one at best.

Perhaps Michael Moore “abandoned his post” in the theater to consult with the enemies of our country, freedom and decency. Again, he seems to be “doubling-down” in his criticism of American Sniper. Perhaps, he is just a cornered rat.

Fascinating in watching American Sniper was the lead-up, as in the mind-numbing number of previews. With the exception of a peek at the new Kevin Costner tear jerker/feel good Black or White, the remaining previews were for up-coming blockbuster shoot-em-and-blow-em-up “super hero” movies coming in months; including Fast and Furious 7^th or 50^th (not sure), two new Marvel Comics movies and a new take on Mad Max – the franchise that launched Aussie Mel Gibson. All these new Hollywood films about “imagined heroes,” led up to the feature film telling the life, times, woe and tragic death of genuine American hero Chris Kyle, directed by the Hollywood actor Hollywood loathes – Dirty Harry, Clint Eastwood.

Mr. Eastwood. Clint, if I may call you that? Once again, you made my/our day. To American Sniper detractors – Dinty Moore, Seth Rogen and former Vermont Governor Howard “the Shouter” Dean: if you really believe what you have said on camera, you should be ashamed; Very, very ashamed.

Oh, the movie is great.

A cup ‘o Joe for G.I. Joes and Janes

A few weeks ago I introduced many of you to a great organization that is working with our warriors suffering from Traumatic Brain Injuries (TBIs) and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). The organization was created by former Chrysler engineer Jeff Zyburt and his rehabilitation expert daughter Tonia and is called the Warrior Institute (www.warriorinstitute.org). See the link below to a fantastic story in the Gainesville Sun about their latest caffeinated venture on behalf of our brave men and women protecting our liberty.

http://www.gainesville.com/article/20150126/ARTICLES/150129722

Michigan turning into Venezuela…road-wise

All roads in Michigan…lead to potholes. Back home last week, I was appalled just how bad the roads, highways and streets are, even in the toney suburbs. And, it’s not a political issue, in reality. We need a boatload of construction…everywhere; and it needs to be paid for. Find the money Governor Synder somewhere or don’t, as a fellow Republican, be afraid to raise sales taxes by a penny — residents will save in the long run if they can forego a major realignment or a broken hub or, worse yet, an accident. The roads are soooooooooo bad, accidents WILL happen as motorists try to dodge pot holes that more mimic Florida sink holes.

Final note: hire construction companies that build real roads that can last for a decade; not the papier mache construction by charlatan companies “building” our roads since the 1980s.

Cubs legend Ernie Banks and the power of the media

I was nine. My mom and dad took our family of five to Chicago for a Cubs game. My dad was a former star in the White Sox farm system who sadly ended his career by destroying his knee into a centerfield wall in the last game of the season. He was invited the next spring to the White Sox’s major league spring training, but knee rehab in the early 50’s was non-existent. (Thank God my dad got hurt for he would have never met my mom had his baseball career blossomed. But, hell, my old man could hit the crap out of the baseball. His baseball genes were later transformed to my big brother Thom and my little brother Greg, who were incredibly talented in the game. I could catch and, despite my scrawny arms in high school, I had a rocket arm from right field. Only problem was, I couldn’t hit, especially a curve ball.

So, we were a baseball family and we had made the journey from little Pella, Iowa to Chitown for a game. Not just any Cubs game; a crucial at-home series against the upstart New York Mets. It was August, 1969. The Chicago Cubs were in the driver’s seat for a pennant for the first time in, well, forever.The Cubbies had not been in a World Series since 1908; the subsequent yearly heartache over the next 61 years would destroy the psyche of Cubs fans for years.

The game was epic. The Cubs were so far ahead of the Mets in the standings that any Cubs’ win was a nail in the coffin for the Mets. On the mound were the league’s studs: Cubs’ Ken Holtzman and Mets’ Jerry Koosman. The Cubs sucked, but in the final innings, Mr. Cubs made an appearance. Yes, Ernie Banks, old by baseball standards and long past normal retirement age (unless you consider Satchel Paige), was pinch-hitting. Despite down by too many runs, the crowd was on edge and went wild. I don’t remember which pitch, but Ernie delivered, crushing a home run.

The Cubs lost, anyway, but it didn’t matter. (Oh, yes it did. It started the beginning of the great ’69 Cubs’ collapse. The “Miracle Mets” would later win the World Series.)

And the “power of the media” in this blogs title? We left Wrigley Field, got in our Chevy station wagon and drove to our Holiday Inn in the burbs. It was, maybe, a 45 minute drive. We piled out of the Chevy and walked into the hotel lobby. And there in the newspaper box was the latest version of the Chicago Times announcing the Cubbies had lost. It was almost like news at the speed on the Internet, two decades before the WWW was even a glint in anyone’s eyes and mind.

R.I.P. Mr. Cubs. R.I.P. Dad. May your memories be eternal and thanks for the fantastic memories.

A legend died way too young yesterday

Tom Kowaleski, a legend in the automotive PR world, died yesterday while hiking in an Arizona desert. I, like many PR folks, worked and learned from Tom. Here’s my favorite story.

Tom and I were in Portland, Oregon in the early 90s, or maybe the late 80s. Whatever. We were getting ready to launch the Eagle Talon and were considering the area for the press preview. It was very early spring and we drove up to Mt. Hood. The roads were perfect to highlight the car’s handling and speed. That is until we got to a road that sported a sign warning it was “out of season — do not enter.” But Tom was undeterred.

As we proceeded, the snow on the road gradually increased from one, then two and finally 12 inches. Our little Eagle Talon went from “the little train that could” to the “holy shit, we are stuck.” Tom and I tried to dig out the car with sticks, to no avail. I was wearing flip flops. After all, it was 70 in the downtown Portland where we had embarked from. But now, at 4:30 p.m. in the mountains, it was mid-thirties. And, the sun was getting ready to say nighty-night.

As we were digging, I constantly was looking over my shoulder. At one point, Tom called me out: “What are you looking at?” he asked. “I’m looking for bears.” Tom just laughed and rolled his eyes. Not a lot of bears in his hometown of Steubenville, Ohio.

After an hour of futility we realized we had to leave on foot. Again, my “foots” were in flip flops. We walked for about five miles; me constantly looking over my shoulder. Finally we came to a shack with lights on. The front lawn was filled with broken-down cars and trucks. Tom was thinking deliverance, as in “we are saved.” I was thinking deliverance as in the Burt Reynolds-Ned Beatty movie.

The “residents” came out the front door to greet us, with shot guns. We told them of our situation and, thankfully, they offered us a ride to the closest ranger station. We climbed in the backseat of their car, pushed aside a couple of shotguns, a five-gallon gas can and at least 100 empty beer cans in a trash bag to make room, and held on for dear life.

When we arrived at the ranger station, Tom told the ranger of our ordeal. He started to laugh when he talked about my paranoia about bears as we tried to dig out the Talon and our subsequent hike to safety. As Tom laughed, the ranger looked at me, then Tom and said, “This Ranger Station is called ‘Seven Bears Station’ for a reason.”

Tom gulped. I think I soiled myself. Rest in peace Tom.