How Confident Are You About Your Confidence?

(man embodies confidence, leaps large gap)

We came rip-roaring into the 21st century. Our computers fast; our muscles toned; our wit sharp; our clothes . . . shredded?

Here we come, world. Here we come. Watch out. Here we . . .

But the world that awaited was something nobody expected. We can't navigate it with our charm, looks, vocabulary or "Good Heart". Success no longer awaits at the end of the marathon, rather, it hides behind every corner, within every opportunity. But who gets the success?

It's The Confident People. They run the world now, those damn Confident People. In a time when anxiety is the most common ailment among Americans (could somebody check that fact, please), confidence is the only quality that prevails over the unfabulous, anxious tedium that surrounds life in the 21st century. With Facebook a-bustle with pokes, your email a-flurry with letters and your living room a-filled with friends and family, how can one survive with their sanity? Speed doesn't cut it anymore. The world has a way of always getting a leg up on you, no matter how fast you run. Somebody will always be disappointed. Some party will always go unattended. Some opportunity will always slip between the cracks and some phone call will always go unreturned. Basically, you're going to F*** up one way or another.

But the confident people march forth, bravely. They continue to navigate their way through this world, creating new things and truly enjoying themselves wherever they may be--you know the ones. They seem to have their finger on the pulse of life. They're not burdened. They're not afraid to move forward with their lives and they awake excited (relatively) for the new day.

It's like they know how to deal with life better than the rest of us, right? They thrive in work and in play. They foster strong relationships. They beat you at ping-pong. They're basically assholes.

But each of us--each flimsy, spineless one of us--has the potential to become confident. I mean REALLY confident (you imagine yourself strolling into a party: tan, trim, and cracking a really funny joke). Not that kind of confidence, though. I'm talking about Real Confidence. The type that allows you to speak your mind when the time is right. The type that allows you to be yourself in any situation. The type of commendable confidence that your hero embodies. You know the type?

If you're reading this, thinking that I'm about to break into some pan-fried 6-step self-help nonsense, you're right! All you need to be confident is to buy my 6-cd box set titled, "Hypnotize Yourself Confident!"

(6-cd box-set for $55.99 plus tax)

No, I'm teasing. I haven't recorded it onto a cd yet. It's a podcast!


No, I'm teasing. Really this time. I don't have any self-help advice for you, but I can tell you about confidence and where it comes from, how to get it and the benefits of being confident in your life.

Hint: It doesn't come from you, it comes from other people. That's why the advice isn't self-help, it's Other-People-Help (we're looking for a more creative way to say that). Your confidence is locked within the fabric of each relationship that you've had throughout your life. From your current boyfriend/girlfriend, all the way back to the Jimmy Sanzonis of the world, who picked your nose for you while you played with Legos. Each relationship holds a key to your confidence and there are specific, (slightly) scientific ways to tap into that confidence.

And then you may be asking: Who is this guy? Who he to tell me about confidence?

The answer is: He's nobody. But, many years ago, he happened to encounter a Puerto Rican Sage who unlocked the secrets of modern confidence while boiling white rice in a standard kitchen saucepan. And now, in this seemingly underdeveloped, poorly decorated blog, he will share the new Ancient Puerto Rican Wisdom with the general public while promoting himself (or herself?) over Facebook . . .

Welcome to The Palace Flophouse! Blog updates will follow until the entire concept is flushed out, at which point you'll be more comfortable, charming and lovable than all of your friends and your life will exit the nethers of the dark, enclosed, box of False Confidence and gracefully enter the bountiful fields of opportunity offered by Real Confidence.

Yours,
The Messenger's Messenger

Swingin' Jim Puts Up a Fight

              

Photo: Bugler sounds Call to the Post; let the races begin

Inglewood, CA — Some would call him a longshot. Some would call him a nothin’. Some would call him flimsy and some might just call him Horse #14. But when he rounded that bend and came mud-flippin’ into the final stretch of the 8^th race on Friday night, he wasn’t anything less than Swingin’ Jim.

It was the last race of the night and an Autumn chill had settled into the blood of the racing fans at Hollywood Park. The seven races prior to the eighth had given the crowd everything they’d come for. The first race went to Perfect Feat on a 10-1 longshot offering a big payoff to those who believed in the four-year-old Kentucky-bred filly. The second race fell into the lap of the preferred contender Forty Paces, a two-year-old gelding out of Idaho.

The fifth race want to Anga; the seventh went to Charm N’ Chuck. Winnings had filled and fallen from the pockets of the spectators and the end of the night was soon approaching. Race 8 was set to begin at 10:21 pm. The yawning fans packed up their belongings to beat traffic and the more rambunctious ones migrated toward the North Lawn where a Jace Everett concert would begin at the conclusion of the last race. The ad in the race-catalog recognizes Jace for the song “Bad Things” from the television series True Blood. Set to begin at 10:30, guitar-tuning had already begun.

Photo: Jim makes his entrance

Swingin Jim, a tall, thin chestnut gelding made his way from the stables on the far east side of the park toward the starting gate. He trotted alongside his competition: Arkham Asylum, a favored gelding from Gotham City, Big Revolution, who was nominated by the catalog commentator as a “candidate for victory”, and finally Justice Reigns, an old, grey thoroughbred gelding with a new jockey on his back, a Mr. Joel Rosariow weighing 124 lbs.

Horse-owner Jack Van Berg, a ranch-thickened cowboy roaming the track in his golfcart and beaten brown boots, came to support his horse, Bernie’s Baby, a California gelding labeled “Hard to like,” by the track commentator. All eleven horses set for the final race and Swingin Jim took the far slot next to a young gray. Jim looked comparatively slim, with his ribs pressed firmly against his hide and a long gaunt face even by horse standards.

Jim’s claiming price is set at $10,500.00 tonight, which means that certain certified buyers could pay that amount and purchase Jim right off the track. Horses in the first race each had a claiming price above 30,000.00. Purchasing Jim would be equivalent to purchasing a low mileage 2006 Pontiac Sedan.

The horses, owners, jockeys and fans gather in the historic Hollywood Park. Hollywood Park opened in 1938 with funds from the Hollywood Turf Club and has since passed through the hands of various associations. It sits on a piece of land in Inglewood large enough to house Jurassic Park. The nearest racetrack in Southern California is the Los Alamitos racetrack a little ways Southeast. Alamitos is minor-league compared to Hollywood Park, and although horseracing is no longer popular, Hollywood Park still boasts the ability to seat 10,000 fans if necessary and has the firepower to broaden their horizons with acts like Jace Everett and $2 hot dogs. I’d almost rather pay four dollars for a hot dog.

The sixth floor is the press box that floats above the stadium like the moon from the Truman Show and carries one single man named Bob Mieszerski, the Director of Publicity. The fifth floor is so utterly elegant that it’s unoccupiable in the year 2010 unless the Kentucky Derby decides to make an appearance in Inglewood. The fourth floor is nearly empty save a father and his son, both wearing full tweed suits sharing a pitcher of iced tea alongside a plate of squeezed lemon slices. The father speaks through the butt of his cigar and the son keeps his eyes fastened diligently on the racing horses below. The third floor and the second floor each have slight variations of style, each being wall-lined with oil painted portraits of horseracing-greats.

Photo: The  50-urinal bathroom in Hollywood Park 3rd Tunnel goes unused on a Friday night

The first floor is where most of the action takes place, with long tin benches lined with hollering fans, numerous bars serving cheap beer and famed hot dogs, and dozens of attendants selling tickets.

My ticket read: Race 8. $2 to Win, #14 – Swingin Jim.

They set his odds at 30-1; he was the longest shot on the track. The commentators didn’t think much of him either, as they wrote, “Outrun twice at this level since breaking his maiden at the fair. Can see no reason for a turnaround tonight and probably would be better served taking his act down the road to Los Alamitos.”

Jay Cohen, the in-house bugler, waits patiently at the end of the dirt-laden entry tunnel. When the first horse noses around the corner, he raises his long silver bugle to the air and sounds “Call to the Post,” to inform the fans of the upcoming race. In 23 years he says he’s played the Call over 80,000 times.

A woman with hair of silver and gold rises from the tin bench wrapped tight in her fleece smock to view the arriving competitors. Sitting atop Swingin Jim’s back is his122lb jockey, Mr. Daniel Dandoval, wearing a Halloween-orange pullover speckled with green polka dots. The crowd goes silent; the horses are ready to race.

“And they’re off!” the announcer yells into the p.a.

Jim started fast and the announcer knew it. The first babble of names came roaring through the air, “It’s Sticky Candy in the lead followed tight by Bellzone who’s neck and neck with Swingin Jim. And here comes Arkham Asylum on the inside track to take the lead, rounding the Southeast corner, Harlan’s Tune catches up with Swingin Jim. Swingin Jim and Harlan’s Tune on the straightaway followed by Big Revolution and Justice Reighns. Justice Reigns pulls ahead for the East stretch, catching up with Sticky Candy, Swingin Jim. Sticky Candy in the lead rounding the Northeast corner. Justice Reigns now on the inside, Harlan’s tune and Swingin Jim following close behind. On the North stretch, we’ve got Sticky Candy holding the lead but here comes Swingin’ Jim! Justice Reigns right behind him as the approach the Northwest corner. Ladies and gentlemen, here they come into the final stretch, neck and neck, Justice Reigns closing in on the outside track, Sticky Candy falling back, and Justice Reigns pulls ahead for the lead! Justice Reigns wins the race! What a race! Justice Reigns!”

Swingin Jim finished sixth, somewhere between Cat Brando and Harlan’s Tune. The jockey’s families emerged from the crowd for congratulations and within minutes the racetrack was silent and empty and a small crowd had gathered on the North Lawn for the Jace Everett concert.

Swingin Jim, the four-year-old Californian gelding, might not be invited back to Hollywood Park. With the longest odds on the track and no wins since his maiden, there’s only one place left for Swingin Jim: the Los Alamitos Racetrack. And once you race the bottom racket, chances are, that’s where you stay. Not every horse can be Secretariat.

Life After Death at Moose Lodge #702

Santa Monica, CA — On March 5^th, 2005 a double homicide left two men dead on the dining-hall floor in Moose Lodge #702, Santa Monica Chapter at 1600 Ocean Park Blvd. The murders sent a shockwave through the community and in the following months membership at Lodge #702 dropped from a commendable 1,700 down to 65.

Any moose from any lodge can tell you that you can’t run a successful, charitable lodge with only 65 members.

The Loyal Order of Moose (LOOM) and the Women of the Moose are two separate fraternal family organizations that share a roof to work toward a common goal: Community, charity and good times. LOOM generally attracts more members; it’s the men’s branch. The Women of the Moose generally have less membership but elicit more participation than their men counterparts.

           

There are roughly 2,000 lodges in the US and Canada with more than 1,400,000 members.

           

At 6pm on the evening of October 23rd, Lodge #702 was abustle with moose. The walls were draped with sparkling holiday lights and a green and red banner across the wall read: Merry Christmas!

One my postulate whether a lazy group of moose neglected to remove last year’s Christmas decorations? But that’s not the case. The Lodge’s Moose King, a handsome older gentleman named Richard with a swinging silver moustache, put the decorations up by himself on Wednesday night.

It’s Christmas in October, the Lodge’s biggest event of the year hosted by the Women of the Moose.

           

Around the same time as the murders, a scandal arose involving the incumbent Administrator and a personal loan financed with lodge property. The board refers to it as “mismanagement”. The board of directors fell to shambles and Moose International threatened to revoke their charter if the lodge could not fill the necessary positions.

It was then, in the most brittle moment in the organization’s history, that Melvin Syposs stepped up to become Administrator. “A thankless position,” he admits.

Syposs arrives at the lodge in the afternoon after long days working for Southern  California Gas as a Field Manager. He takes inventory at the bar; he manages the community service helpers; he pays the bills; he’s got an office filled with files, calculators and a wall calendar that nobody would want as their own.

Not to mention his family. He’s got one of those, too.

           

Syposs has seen them come and go. Governors, regents, chaplains, recorders—nobody stays. It’s too much work and the feeble membership hurts everyone’s spirits.

But there’s a wind of change at the Santa Monica Moose Lodge. You can smell it in the air on Saturday night; it smells like the four roast turkeys and four honey hams that Governor Tony Delia is pulling out of the oven. Delia dons a broad smile, an honest laugh and a carving knife as he prepares the main coarse for more than 50 members.

Photo:Delia pulls out the holiday birds

Technically, he’s not governor yet, he’s still Acting Governor. He was sworn in last month after the previous governor took a new job that didn’t allow enough time for the lodge. Tony, like many of the board members at the lodge, is a lifelong resident of Santa Monica and a new member of The Moose. He’d only been a member for a year when he became governor. But everyone is excited about his presence, especially the Women of the Moose because they have somebody whose willing to cook the birds for their Christmas in October. Tony’s work in the kitchen is reminiscent of the President throwing the first pitch at a ball game. It may be publicity, but it’s part of inauguration. He’s a man of the people and Christmas in October is his first real event as governor.

           

DJ Ron Miller spins Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer in the dining hall while the Tito Ortiz fight airs on the big screen in the bar, or The Club, or The Social Quarters—it depends on who you ask. The cue ball cracks the #1 ball for a strong break on the corner pool table and the bartender, a young moose named Ashley, serves up a cranberry, rum and orange juice cocktail. Brittle old women with poodle hair and glistening white suits with red bowties encircle their tables, picking just the right spot for the feast. The entire hall is warm with holiday scents when the music falls to a whisper as Gabrielle Bourget takes the stage.

The crowd seems unaccustomed to being formally addressed. At first, they ignore her. But Gabrielle moves the microphone closer to her mouth, the volume doubles and she gets their attention. “Welcome everybody to the Moose Lodge’s Christmas in October!”

Gabrielle is a charismatic single mother who joined the Women of the Moose last year when she was first invited for a high school reunion. Many of her old classmates were moose, and since she’d been a born and raised in Santa Monica and enjoys giving back to the community, she joined. Less than six months later Rebecca Rojas—2-year veteran Senior Regent—stepped down from her chair in May and left a dangerous vacancy on the board of the Women of the Moose. Senior Regent is the most demanding position—equivalent to Governor of LOOM—on the board and if they didn’t get it filled, Moose International would step in and remove the charter. Rojas took the position two years earlier when she saw how badly the lodge was struggling. She commuted all the way to Santa Monica from Torrance to run the lodge, even though Torrance has its own Moose lodge.

Photo: Bourget delivers a celebratory speech

But Rojas burnt out and rookie moose Gabrielle Bourget stepped in, guns ablaze.

Bouget begins by giving thanks. She thanks “Her Girls”; she thanks the Governor, Tony and his wife, Jerry for helping in the kitchen; she thanks Debbie, Tillie and Melvin; she thanks the bartenders Ashley and Dennis; she thanks the women’s board, Rebecca, Carol, Merrium and Roxie; and finally she thanks Brenda, whose been an active moose in Santa Monica for 64 years.

“I’m 89 next month!” Brenda announces to the applauding crowd.

“Everybody Enjoy!” Bourget concludes.

The moose begin their feast.

The Women of the Moose go on to do a choreographed Electric Slide on the dancefloor. The lights dim, desert is served and the bartenders keep the cocktails coming. The old and young mingle enthusiastically while the big band holiday tunes loosen them up.

Photo: The Women of the Moose (WOTM)

Membership rose from 65 up to 300 in the recent years. Governor Tony Delia promises a bright future of remodeling, redecorating, increased membership and funds leftover to support the two Moose International charitable organizations: Mooseheart and Moosehaven.

Mooseheart Child City and School is a 1000-acre town in Illinios that helps children and teens in need.  Moosehaven is a 65-acre retirement community in Florida established to help moose with poorly planned retirements. Both are entirely supported by lodge fundraising.

Christmas in October sold out this year. Plates sold for $12.00 a piece and the only thing left at the end of the night was a few squares of cornbread.

The lodge has one week to take down their Christmas decorations and put up the Halloween decorations for the upcoming Halloween Fundraiser Dance scheduled to take place on Saturday, October 30^th. Then, after Halloween, the task will fall on Richard, the Moose King, to come back in with his box of Christmas décor and get back to work. 

Photo: Old-school gossip

World’s Best Gumball Saves Local Bike Shop

Los Angeles, CA – Manny Gonzales started a bike shop on Lincoln Blvd. in Venice Beach, California. He sold the famed beach-style cruisers at rock-bottom prices to locals and tourists.

After a few successful seasons Manny’s Lowriders became a Los Angeles institution. But business was competitive and Manny couldn’t sell enough bikes to turn a profit and, because of his thrifty Latin heritage, he refused to raise his dirt-cheap prices. Things were looking grim for Manny until one day, a Canadian showed up at his door with a gumball machine.

Manny slammed the door on the Canadian, “This is a bike store, not a candy store!”
he yelled through the mail slot.

“This isn’t any ordinary gumball,” the Canadian whispered through the slot. “It’s a Mango-Chili Gumball, the best gumball in the world.”

“I don’t do business with Canadians,” Manny barked as he returned back to the rubber tire he was patching up behind the sales counter. The Canadian dropped a business card through the mail slot.

Well, the recession hit, followed by a long winter and a wet spring. Tourists didn’t arrive until the middle of summer and by then Manny had lost 20 lbs and resigned to sell the bicycle shop and resume his career stocking produce through the night at the local Pavillions. He hated the Pavillions nightshift almost as much as he hated produce—he hated produce. Until one day . . .

While lying on the beach with Tiffany, a woman Manny liked but wasn’t sure if he loved, listening the rustling summer waves, a Mexican man approached Manny, “Mango?”

“I don’t like produce,” Manny said, without lifting his head from the beach towel.

“Sure, we’ll have some mango,” Tiff said.

“I don’t like mango!” Manny barked.

“Have you ever tried it?” she asked.

He didn’t respond.

“We’ll take the mango,” she said.

While she pulled cash from her purse, the Mexican man filled a plastic cup with slices of fresh mango and then doused it with red-hot chili sauce.

“Oh, uh . . .” Tiffany grimaced at the sight of hot sauce but didn’t have the heart to complain to the Mexican man who spent his days tromping through the crowds of people beneath the beating sun. She took the cup of mango but was too afraid to try it.

She set the cup in the sand and stared at it. Manny noticed that she wasn’t eating and asked what was wrong.

“I’m afraid to try it,” she told him. Her reluctance ignited a certain manliness in Manny and he scooped the cup out of the sand and plucked a slice of mango dripping with red hot chili sauce and dangled it over his tongue. Tiff covered her eyes.

When she opened them he still had the mango dangling over his tongue. “Aren’t you going to try it?” she asked.

“Already did,” he said. “This is my second slice.” He dropped the second slice into his mouth and mmmmmd.

“You like it?” she asked naively, grabbing a slice for herself.

“Like it? It’s the best thing to ever grace my taste buds,” Manny said. And with that, his jaw dropped and a chunk of mango landed on the sandy beach. Mango. Chili. The gumballs!

Manny grabbed Althea and the beach towel and ran from the beach back to his bike shop. He found the Canadian’s business card underneath the cash register next to a dusty rubber band and a tails-up penny. He ordered a gumball machine filled with mango chili gumballs and within an hour the Canadian was back on his doorstep.

First the customer bought a gumball, then they bought a new chain for their bike, then they bought some fresh handle bars, then they bought an entire bike for their nephew, then they returned for another gumball. Manny got his first return-customer within a week and, by the end of the summer, his business had doubled and he had enough money to take the bike shop off the market. He was back in business!

Now Manny protects his Mango-Chili Gumball machine like it’s the chicken that lays golden eggs. He takes it home with him at the end of the day and hires low budget security to protect it if he ever leaves town. He eats one in the morning after his cup of coffee and one in the gap between lunch and dinner.

(Manny watches over the mango gumballs)

Manny’s doctor told him, “those chili-mango gumballs saved your life.” Manny agrees. So does Tiff, his new fiance. Happiness floats around Manny’s Canadian gumball machine like a cloud; Manny and Tiff dance to the humming summer breeze, popping each other’s bubbles and laughing their days away.

Marijuana Will Be Legalized in 2012, Oregon Ready or Not

Hollywood, CA – Polished newsmen with their cheeks blushing pink and eyes gently carved with mascara scurried around the driveway at the Law Offices of Bruce Margolin last Tuesday night beneath overhead billboard EXPRESS advertisements lit by the setting sun on Sunset Boulevard.

It’s the Yes on 19 celebration hosted by California NORML, the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws. A seven-foot wooden fence divided the media tent and the party itself. “No cameras on this side; no medicine on this side,” Amanda Rain Bazel, the Coordinator of the Steering Committee explained to media. She says it’s not good PR for the campaign to show the plant itself or people using it, even for medical purposes. You especially can’t show the campaign leaders sharing a joint, but cameramen and curious reporters loomed like paupers at the edge of fence waiting for their chance.

Between 9 and 10 pm all the major networks broke the news: Marijuana Defeated! By 10:30 the media was packing up, but, on the other side of the fence nothing had changed—the party billowed.

"They got the proposition on the ballot; they got 46% of voters to support it, and two years from now, they’ll get it passed," stated Bruce Margolin, Esq., unphased by the defeat. "And, Proposition 19 was more of a draft; it had lots of problems. Many cannabis activists saw the writing as obtuse and ignorant of important topics."

For example, Proposition 19 allows for 25-square feet of personal growth but does not set forth larger commercial guidelines, which will cast commercial growers and law enforcement into the same gray-zone that they currently occupy.

Now it’s become a zeitgeist. Legalize Marijuana is on the lips of the whispering wind across the entire Western United States. On November 3^rd, the day after Prop 19 was defeated, the Colorado Marijuana Legalization 2012 campaign launched. The City of Boulder has already legalized it; the state will likely follow suit in 2012.

In 2012, the presidential election will bring out the big money as well. Prop 19 was hustled through the system grassroots-style by a very influential commercial grower from Oakland named Richard Lee. Now that he can guarantee 46% backing, gathering financial support will significantly easier.

That’s two states: California and Colorado. What about Oregon? What about Washington?

They’ll be there. But, as usual, they’re going at their own pace. Portland’s very own Green Goddess appeared in Hollywood for the party although her own marijuana initiative—OR Prop 74—was on the Oregon ballot that same evening. She believes that CA should be looking to OR. “Oregon is going to take the precedence because 74 would allow research and development of medical marijuana, which is currently illegal,” she explains. “It must first be respected as a medication,” she said, stretching the word to highlight California’s negligence of that particular view while standing in Attorney Margolin’s dim-lit office as Jackson Browne’s Doctor My Eyes played to the hazy patio-party outside.

* Portland's Green Goddess (right), "420 Comic" Jeffrey Peterson (middle) and the Sin City Kity (left) in Attorney Margolin's office during the party.

The Green Goddess was joined by Washington activist Sin City Kity and California’s very own “420 Comic” Jeffrey Peterson. They stumbled over themselves to articulate who exactly is making the big moves. The Green Goddess made it clear that, “It doesn’t matter what California does,” Oregon will continue to operate on “The next level”. Sin City Kity agrees, turns and says, “Now let’s go smoke it up Goddess-style, woman.” They depart for the patio, where cameras are not allowed.

The topic also stretches beyond Portland’s Saturday Market, beyond shower stalls in the Eugene dorms, beyond the Cannabis Clubs of Oakland or the Venice Beach Boardwalk. The presidents of Mexico, Costa Rico and Columbia all raised qualms with Proposition 19 and the confusing effects that it would have on the international war on drugs. After considering the murky criminal outcomes of Prop 19, Colombian President Juan Manuel Santos asks, “Isn’t it time to revise the global strategy towards drugs?” 

Long Time west coast cannabis activist Twista Jaye—the only name he uses—sees it as a “tipping point”. The country is on the brink of economic doom, the environment is suffering, quality of life is pitiful and the 2012 election is just around the corner. The only question now is which horse will take the inside track on that final stretch? Will it be California? Will it be Oregon? Or will it be South Dakota on a 30-1 longshot? You never can tell.

Twista Jaye arrived at the Yes on 19 party in the early afternoon. The Coordinator, Ms. Bazel, informed him that the party wasn’t set to begin until 7pm. He asked if he could be put to work.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Twista Jaye.”

“Oh,” she said with a smirk, “I’ve got a job for you.” She handed him a brown paper bag with the top neatly folded.

He took the bag with confidence. “Do you have any papers?”

The party lasted until the early morning and is still continuing today in various discrete locations across America.

*Twista Jaye before the party begins

* Criminal Defense Attorney Bruce Margolin at his office on Sunset Blvd. before the Yes on 19 party began

*ABC Eyewitness news reporter watches for the outcome on the television while Mr. Margolin gives an interview

* The Media Tent

 * The other side of the fence