​Given all the days set aside to honor things from the memorable and important to the silly and trivial, it surprises me that a greater effort hasn’t been made to address some of our serious global problems by setting aside a day to take very specific action. It’s one thing, for example, to say, “Today’s Earth Day. Let’s all do something to protect the planet.”


It’s another to set a very specific goal, like, “Don’t use any electricity for a day.” Or, “Don’t create any garbage today.” If there were some tangible goals designed to reduce our footprint on the planet, getting each of us to live a little more lightly, the collective response would be HUGE.
 
I think that’s where many people get frustrated when it comes to global issues. They feel they can’t do anything. So they deny science. They say the problem doesn’t exist. They choose to look the other way. They point fingers and say someone else or something else causes the problem. People find ways to rationalize.
 
Collectively, we rationalize as well. Companies don’t take action. Countries ignore steps they could take us in a positive direction because they don’t feel there’s a consensus to act.  “We couldn’t come to an agreement, so we didn’t do anything.”
 
One way to combat this is to establish a concrete step that moves a solution forward. Here’s one: Let’s set aside the last Sunday of every month and designate it as “No Fly Day.” No airplanes are allowed to be flown globally.
 
This could very easily be implemented. First, it is not anti-competitive.  You get every airline to not fly on that day and it’s a level playing field. It doesn’t hurt business. Have business executives fly out a day early or a day late to conferences. If you’re flying for a vacation, you have to plan in advance if that’s the Sunday you thought you needed to travel. Change the day.
 
Eliminating airplanes globally one day a month cuts out all their carbon emissions. Setting aside everyone’s “beliefs” in how the global climate is or isn’t changing, no one cannot disagree that cars, trucks, airplanes and other fossil fuel-using technologies release carbon into the atmosphere. The more you do it, the more that goes up there.
 
Cutting out all airplane travel one day a month reduces our collective worldwide carbon releases. It’s not a lot. It’s not going to immediately reverse a trend. But it’s a step, and can be accomplished.
 
Post 9/11 in the U.S., I remember discussions with multiple friends who lived near Chicago’s O’Hare Airport and Dallas-Ft. Worth Airport. They marveled at how clear the skies were because all the planes were grounded, and by how peaceful things were.
 
Visual air pollution would be reduced, as would noise pollution. Both are side benefits of taking the planes out of commission one day a month.
 
Pilots and airline attendants would love this. They’d get an automatic day off a month regardless of their regular schedule.
 
It would not hurt airline profits because they’d all be in the same boat. None could take advantage and choose to fly on the designated Sunday. If they did, they would probably be ostracized by the general public and go out of business.
 
“Blue Laws” were used years ago, and still exist in many places. The concept was to take the day off Sundays and not use it for commercial purposes.
 
A “No Fly Day” would be similar. “Take the day off, airplanes. You can use a rest.” So can we. We’d all benefit.

Here’s an event a lot of people might want to see because of the humor involved: Pole vaulting for the overweight middle-aged guy or woman. For some reason I think it would be funnier to see the men crash and burn, but maybe it would be just as humorous to see women attempt the event, too. I don’t know. You decide.
 
The genesis for this idea was two close friends who serve as idea generators to keep the world laughing. I forget how this one came up, but I’ll start with this.

Several year s ago, I watched a video clip of the Senior Senior Olympics. I’m not sure who turned me onto the YouTube clip, but two men, both over 90, ran the 100-meter dash. Or should I say they “hobbled.” Regardless, they did it.

The gun went off, they ambled down the track, taking miniature steps, almost like they were tippy toeing. It was hysterical, heartwarming and sad. I loved seeing two guys that age still wanting to prove themselves, to take home the championship belt, or perhaps just to demonstrate they could make their bodies move for 100 meters at their age.
 
Pole vaulting for the overweight middle-aged (preferably over the age of 50) person would have a slightly different outcome. You’re not considering setting a record. You’re trying not to get hurt. If you avoid crashing, that’s a victory.
 
One of my 62-year-old friends was thinking about (sarcastically, of course) taking up pole vaulting as his weight dropped from 223 to 204. He probably felt like he was floating, which influenced his fantasy ratio (and its divorce from reality), making him think he could fly or dunk a basketball.
 
Then his weight went up again, and he knew he’d snap the pole if he tried to get it buckling under his lead-like body. But it didn’t stop the dream.

There will be specific requirements for this event: You must have never pole vaulted before. You must be over the age of 50. You must be certified as “nuts.” You must be at least 25 pounds over your doctor-recommended weight. And, for giggles, we’d recommend you have a raucous sense of humor. Because you might die. At a minimum, you’d seriously injure yourself.
 
I would pay a LOT of money to see this event. More than I’d pay for a comedy club. You wouldn’t even need to stay for the entire number of entrants to make their attempts. Just stay for the people you know who you’d want to laugh at.
 
The bar would be set on the ground to start. This is mandatory. If you can’t vault over that, it’s time to go home.
 
The pad would be extended completely around the launching area (10 yards each way) so when the participants crashed, they would have cushioning in every direction (also if their pole snaps). If you fall backwards, you at least then land on something soft, other than your butt.

MRI machines would be stationed on the sidelines, along with ice bags, chiropractors, nurse’s aides, physical therapists, bone surgeons, oxygen tanks and emergency technicians. Probably should have a few priests there, too.
 
For those who can plant the pole and actually levitate over the ground bar, they proceed to the second round, where the bar is set at six inches. When this intimidates half the competitors, you know it’s only the serious who will continue.
 
Not cracking a pole, not crashing, not breaking a bone, not slamming into the bar, not slipping, not falling backwards are all considered “victories.” We’ll laugh with you all the way. Let the games begin.

​Maybe you’ve met this type of guy before. He exists. Similar humans lurk in homes and businesses around the world. Here’s his story.
 
Last week, I was on a customer call with a coworker. We do this a lot, going into businesses, getting to know what they do, and pitching them on how we can help them protect their assets. We meet a ton of new people, and their stories are always different.
 
From what they do to what they believe, we get a dose of the huge diversity of thought and business lines that exist in a mid-major city’s metro area. Everyone has a story.

This guy’s was wild. We walked in. He had a box cutter, kneeling on the floor, slicing up the cardboard to pull out pieces for stools that he was putting together. I looked around as my coworker engaged him.
 
Slowly, I dialed into the conversation and the guy (let’s call him Doug) began talking rapidly and gesturing wildly. Conspiracy theories abounded. The U.S. government sent its military into Afghanistan to capture the heroin trade, which has all been transported back to our country and used to addict a whole new generation.
 
Doug turned to me, “YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!!!!!!” I wasn’t sure what he meant, but it had something to do with news, fabricating facts and information being manipulated.
 
“It’s 1984 by George Orwell that we’re living in. YOU KNOW IT,” he said.
 
I countered that he should reread Ray Bradbury’s “Fahrenheit 451,” but that didn’t mollify him.  “NO, IT’S “Brave New World’ WE’RE LIVING IN NOW,” he shouted.
 
I nodded, trying to keep him from going completely nuts. By this time, he was gesticulating with his arms, the razored box cutter dicing the air, and getting me a bit worried.

His eyes were glassy. He stared like a gaunt, bony street person who was a kook. The struggle was figuring out what type of kook.
 
Was he ADD? Was he on heroin himself (probably not because he would have been sedate instead of a crazy speed talker)? Was he schizophrenic?  Bipolar? Manic? On crystal meth? Perhaps he was a speed freak.
 
My coworker thought Doug drank too much coffee. All speeded up, talking non-stop, it made sense when you thought about it.
 
It’s weird coming across people like Doug. They exist. They might be a coworker of yours; they might run the business next door. Are they dangerous?  You don’t really know, but you speculate, and quite frankly, most of us avoid people like him.

As his rant continued, my coworker tried to get Doug back on track to talk about our products and services. Doug wasn’t having it. He was on a tear, his eyes bulging, staring through us as if we didn’t exist.
 
If we’d let him continue talking, I’m quite confident that three hours later we could have still been there, nodding our heads, as he spun his verbal wheels on every subject under the sun.
 
I’ve seen a LOT of street people in my day. Doug reminded me of that type of person. Yet there he was, working a legit business, with a lethal weapon in one hand and multiple crazy thoughts in his head.
 
We passively left the premises after slowly thanking him for his time. Doug abruptly stopped talking. He said some things about his office. We nodded our heads, then walked out.
 
 Before even reaching our car, we hashed out the situation. “Is he nuts?”
 
“Whoa, what a psycho!”
 
“He needs to be institutionalized!”
 
“What’s he on?”
 
There weren’t any answers. We won’t be going back there. I hope someone close by pays attention to him. He needs that help.

​There are many things that make a movie bad. Here’s one: Mindboggling violence.

There, now you know I’m an old codger. I care about plot. I want good writing. I love to see talented acting. Drama is important. Spontaneous humor is engaging. Excessive violence, on the other hand, kills my interest.
 
Otherwise good movies have turned me off repeatedly in the last 5-8 years as they’ve strung the viewer along with explosions, multiple machine gunnings of bad guys, buildings crashing, massive noises and all the other sensory incendiary devices.

I think the writers/producers/directors/editors, for some unfathomable reason, must believe we want this. Maybe you do, but I don’t. It numbs me, and turns me off, and makes a good movie bad.
 
When “Transformers” came out, I was enthralled. What a great tale it told. Spectacular music. Some great subtle humor. A coming of age story in many ways. I couldn’t wait for the sequel.

Then it came out and I barfed. As we exited the theater, I ran into a friend of mine I hadn’t seen for years. He enthused about the movie. I looked at him like he’d grown a third head. I know he is a comic book fan, as am I, and we both “wanted” to sing the praises of the Marvel universe. But I couldn’t.

So I started pointing out how plot-less the movie was, how it relied far too much on unnecessary and senseless violence to make up for the lack of a story line. I give him credit because he listened to my rant. Afterwards, he went, “You know, you’re right.”
 
I wasn’t trying to be right or wrong. I only wanted to point out how much I expected the movie to be better and was disappointed as it chose to bombard my senses instead. I lost all interest in the characters, plot and finally the movie itself.
 
When the most recent remake of “Superman” came out, our younger daughter wanted to go see it because she had never been to a Superman movie before. I dreaded it. I’d seen the previews and knew what was in store: Long scenes of repetitive violence.
 
I wasn’t disappointed in that. It was so totally unrealistic and over-the-top once we watched it, that I couldn’t tell you anything else about the movie. “Hey, it had Superman knocking down every building in New York City and no one died from that,” would have been the sharpest comment I could make afterwards.
 
Recently, my wife, older daughter and I saw the newest Triple X movie. The first Triple X was incredible.  Vin Diesel was perfect in the role. The opening scene with him vaulting off the bridge and escaping the authorities is an all-time classic. His tongue-in-cheek humor throughout helped move the plot along and break up the action. The bad guys were losers. You rooted for Diesel to take them down.
 
Contrast that with the one in movie theaters now. The current Triple X is decent, don’t get me wrong. You go to see Diesel and the action. That doesn’t disappoint.

It does disappoint when it comes to the over-reliance on smashes, blow-ups and shootings. When a plot drags, that’s the easy fall back.

And I think that’s the heart of the problem – if you can’t tell a decent story, then the writers fall back on the old familiars, which is smashing and shooting to take your mind off the rest of the movie deteriorating.
 
Too much violence makes a bad movie. Pass it on.