To My Wife...Again.

People are starting to get concerned.

As a minister, it is understood that you have to exhibit some compassion from time to time, but today marks two years and you still seem to um....what is the word I am looking for? Oh yeah...care.

Your dad's visit in a couple of weeks? It isn't just to hang out. I am fairly certain that he is going to try and talk some sense into you. After all, he only gave us 3 years, so he's probably getting a little antsy.

My dad's visit next week? It's not just to have dinner with us. I am fairly certain that he is going to tell you in person that the monthly checks are being cut off, that you have done your time and are now free to go.

Year 2 was a good year. You went to Israel and lived to tell about it; we saved a lot of money and subsequently blew most of it on the down payment for the Infiniti; you finally spent a few days in my Holy Land; and, most importantly, we welcomed the new love of our life to the family: Vegas, the world's dumbest dog.

Who, by the way, is infinitely more easier to live with than I am.

And yet you continue to put up with me, for reasons that only you and your God know. Maybe it's because I stayed true to my vow from one year ago - to let you pick the pizza toppings. Sure, we now get separate pizzas, but you always get exactly what you want. Even when you insist on ordering from the 3rd best pizza place in town.

So while I remain confused as to your true motives, I could not be more appreciative of all that you do. To say I married up is a gigantic understatement. Here's hoping that the day never comes when you figure that out.

Happy 2nd anniversary, honey. I love you.

Pissing off Lou Gorman

So the consensus is that I am a wuss. Most excellent. I've always needed an identity and while I would have preferred tall, charming and handsome, that would have been an outright lie. However, on the scale of identities, wuss definitely ranks above overly talkative, boring, smelly and bad poker player...so I'll take it. Thanks again to all who chimed in.

And speaking of being sensitive, former Red Sox general manager Lou Gorman, who ran the team from 1984-1993, has had one or two Jon Siegal moments in his career. How do I know? Well, it just so happens that Lou sent me and my friends a very inappropriate letter while I was in college. Sure, his inappropriate letter was a response to an extremely vulgar and ridiculously inappropriate letter that we sent him, but that is besides the point. He was a grown up and should have known better.

What did we say to poor Lou? Well, glad you asked. To set the stage, it was November 1992. The Sox lost a very promising prospect and their starting 2nd baseman in the expansion draft that was held to stock the incoming Florida Marlins and Colorado Rockies. At that point, the Sox were spiraling down from a contending team in the late 1980s to the dregs of the league in the early 1990s.

Here we go. Warning: the following letter contains very strong language, numerous grammatical errors and may or may not be funny after all of these years:

Lou,


We just want to tell you that you really suck balls and we are demanding your immediate resignation. You've been gradually screwing up the organization for years now but the Eric Wedge fiasco is the latest, and hopefully the last, of your asinine moves concerning personnel.


Would you like us to refresh your memory?


The following dickhead moves are just a minute sampling of many fuck-ups you have been responsible for:


1. The signing of Matt Young for a multi-year, multi-million dollar contract. In some countries you would be executed for such displays of ignorance. You couldn't manage a Dairy Mart, let alone a Major League Baseball team. You signed a pitcher that can't throw to first base without shitting his pants. He belongs in the Ronald Reagan Hospital for the Mentally Insane, and you should be his roommate.


2. The signing of Jack Clark. Another winner on the Boston sports scene. Next time you see him could you tell him to forget about the five bucks he owes me, I'll let it slide. Jack needs it more than I do anyway. The guy must love you, Lou. Without you he wouldn't have been able to make an extra few million to sit on his ass and cry about how much his life sucks. Lou, I heard Dave Kingman wants to make a comeback, how about 4 years and 10 million, does that sound fair? We need someone to hit it over the monster, you know?


3. Lee Smith and Jeff Reardon. You gave up a reliever who is in his prime and replaced him with a shitbum who blew more saves that Margo Adams has {bad word for penises}. Yeah, he does hold the all-time save record, until Lee Smith passes him early next year.


4. Dennis Eckersley for Bill Buckner. "Little roller along first..."


5. Releasing Dwight Evans. This is the equivalent of the Bruins releasing Ray Bourque or the Celtics releasing Larry, Kevin and Robert. You don't treat a man that has done so much for the team the way you did. That was classless and personifies the differences between a top-flight organization and the Red Sox.


6. Releasing Dave Henderson. You suck, bad.


7. How about all the careers you've ruined? Kevin Morton, Mo Vaughn, Phil Plantier, Tim Naehring, Mike Gardiner...


8. Finally, the expansion draft. We're you drunk, baked, on acid? What the fuck were you thinking? Was your mother on crack while she was pregnant with you? Are your parents also brother and sister? I can't explain this. Jody Reed? Eric Wedge? That's all we can take, we hate you.


After the draft, we held a trial in room 329 Patterson Hall at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst. We found you guilty of 43 counts of general stupidity, 10 counts of attempted stupidity, 18 counts of career murder and one count of not having a penis. As punishment we ask that you resign as general manager of the Boston Red Sox. We hope that this will end the needless suffering that millions of Red Sox fans experience this year.


Needless to say, a good portion of our arguments in this letter - namely points 5, 6, 7 and 8...so about half - turned out to be wrong. This is mainly due to the fact that we were young, stupid and immature. Plus, I was involved and I am usually never right about anything. That said, we didn't know at the time how good Curt Schilling and Jeff Bagwell would become, two players he traded away for precious little.


Here is Lou's response:

Gentleman (and I use the term loosely):

To take the time to respond to a bunch of illiterate, ill-mannered vulgar jerks like yourselves would be a total affront to my intelligence.

I would hope that you morons don't represent the true educational level of students at the University of Massachusetts since you do nothing but "disgrace" the University with the ignorance and vulgarity of your letter.

Some day when you all grow up, if ever, I might take the time to reply with an intelligent response.

Sincerely,

James "Lou" Gorman
Senior Vice President/General Manager

It is worth noting that less than a year later, Lou resigned, replaced by the infamous Dan Duquette. Clearly, our letter took a heavy personal toll on the man. It is also worth noting that his letter made no sense: he claims that he won't respond to us, but isn't the letter itself a response? I am confused. Maybe this is just Lou being Lou.

So is Lou Gorman also a wuss? Maybe. But he was also a decent general manager and from what I hear, a very kind soul. Still, he should thank his lucky stars that the internet, Facebook, Twitter and countless other social mediums weren't around during his tenure. Seeing that I am big on apologies these days, perhaps I should track him down and send him another letter....

Next blog post: The NBA also showed its sensitive side. Like, for instance, when I declared for the NBA draft in 1993.

Am I a wuss?

As I enter the "golden years," I've noticed several distinct signs of aging:

• The graying of facial and chest hair.
• A shrinking bladder that results in trips to the bathroom every 45 minutes.
• Falling asleep on the couch by 8:30. On Fridays.
  
• And, oh yeah, potentially turning into an oversensitive, thin-skinned pus*y.

For the majority of my life, it has been virtually impossible to offend me. I embrace my self-deprecating sense of humor and I not only encourage, but I demand that my friends get in on the action.

And they have not disappointed. Through the years, I've been subjected to jokes about my religion, my upbringing, my ex-girlfriends, a startling inability to count (most often seen while gambling) and bouts with abdominal overhang, among others. I'd like to think that nobody laughs harder at these jokes than I do. After all, if you can't laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at?

By and large, I am not an emotional person. I tend to roll with the punches. In fact, my wife would be thrilled if one day I climbed a couple of notches on the emotional response scale to the level of "your soul is an empty void of all humanity."

An example: a year ago, I was driving on the highway when an SUV in front of me lost control, flipped over a couple of times and came to rest upside down in a shallow ditch off the road. I pulled over, ran down to the vehicle, helped a very shaken (but uninjured) driver out of the SUV, called police, waited with her and once the cops arrived and took my statement, I left. Not unusual, right?

Here's the rub: Not once during the entire episode did I ever think about the fact that the woman could have died, the truck could have erupted in flames or exploded while I helped her out, or that the out-of-control SUV came within a couple of feet of hitting my car. And by the time I did think about these things, I was already on the way home and realized that none of these things happened, everyone was OK and that was that. I didn't lose sleep over it. I didn't dwell on it for days. I was over it.

Strange? Probably. Do I require intensive psychological evaluation? Almost certainly. But that is just how I function. I am about as sensitive as a pet rock.

And now that I've spent 421 words setting the stage, it should surprise absolutely no one that my reaction (over-reaction?) to a Facebook comment recently started in motion a string of events that culminated in the end of a friendship.

Yep, that's right. I was, for some reason, put off by a handful of words that somebody typed online. Somebody shoot me. Now.

It isn't necessary to divulge the identity of the other person. He is not a regular reader or contributor to this blog and does not live anywhere near me.

It also isn't necessary to go into a great deal of detail about what happened. I will say that I expressed my feelings to this person and tried to resolve the issue a few different times. However, he did not believe the comment was offensive, refused to apologize for it, and by not doing so, ultimately decided that it would be best to part ways.

As someone who says whatever is on my mind, I have inadvertently offended people on numerous occasions. I often find myself apologizing, even if I don't understand why the other person was ticked off, because to not apologize would send a message that their feelings are irrelevant. "Hey, don't be so sensitive. If you don't like it, too bad." Sure, it would be nice to take that approach, but I am reasonably certain that if I did, the only person I'd have left to speak with is my dog.

Although she is not much of a talker. I wonder if it was something I said.

Now that this falling out has concluded, I found myself in a very strange position - trying to deal with um, I believe they are called...feelings:

• Bewilderment
• Sadness
• Frustration
• Anger
• Amusement (at the absurdity of the situation. After all, if you can't laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at?)
  

So this is what it's like to feel emotion? Odd....

I have no regrets. Did I overreact to a mostly harmless Facebook comment? In hindsight, perhaps I did. But in my view, this quickly transitioned from bitching about a Facebook comment to an issue of principle. Sure, I don't have many principles - besides always hitting on a soft 18 and never ordering a drink with an umbrella - but as cheesy as it sounds, I've always tried to treat others the way I would like to be treated (with the notable exception of my sister). If that includes apologizing for something I said, even if it is mostly as a goodwill gesture, then so be it. In this case, this person choose not to offer a similar level of reciprocation.

Still...a Facebook comment? Really? What in the world of Hallmark is wrong with me? Is this the beginning of the end? Will I soon be crying over those cheesy inspirational features that will be televised at the next Olympics?

"21 year old bobsledder Mike Jones may not be the favorite to win a medal, but just getting to Vancouver is a lifetime accomplishment. His story starts with a bizarre skee-ball accident involving his pet hamster that happened when he was 6..."

Jesus. I feel the need to apologize to anyone reading this. Just for the hell of it.

Sin City

It all started innocently enough.

It was February 1996. My friend Mark - he of the 3,000 word comments - was thinking of visiting his brother in Vegas for a week and asked if I wanted to come along. Having finished school the previous December and not yet having started my career, Mark's question was akin to asking the Pope if he would like to pray.

None of the 8 people who read this blog - OK, maybe 7 these days - need to be given a primer on my love of cards and gambling. So, a few weeks later, on a cold snowy Sunday night, we flew to Vegas. Little did I suspect that it would be the first of almost two dozen trips in a 13-year period.

We landed around 11 p.m. and drove straight to Binion's (the birthplace of this somewhat popular event) where I proceeded to pop my Vegas cherry. I sat down at a $5 blackjack table (good luck finding one of those anymore), ordered a Corona and won my very first hand.

And over the next week, proceeded to lose my shirt. It was glorious.

Fun fact: To this day, if I drink a beer while at a table in Vegas, it is always a Corona. Who says I am not a romantic? Um, besides my wife and just about everyone else?

Anyway, back then, "losing my shirt" was somewhat subjective. First of all, the thought of me without a shirt was not nearly as nauseating as it is today. Secondly, I lost about $700, which while significant, didn't exactly drive me into bankruptcy.

Some highlights from that first trip:

• 12 hours after we arrived, it snowed. In the desert. What are the odds? I mean, that must be a once in a lifetime event, right? (hint: this is called foreshadowing) Anyway, it was only for an hour or so and produced barely a dusting, but in the desert any type of precipitation causes the roads to become extremely slippery.
  

• We took a day trip to Six Flags Magic Mountain, just outside of L.A., to spend a day riding some truly kick-ass roller coasters. We woke up at 4 a.m., piled into the family truckster, drove 5-6 hours and when we arrived at the park, it was closed. No, the moose at the gate didn't tell us. The sign saying "Winter hours, weekends only" did. We were there on a Friday and it was 70 degrees. Only in California. And if "traveling across country to visit an amusement park, only to discover upon arrival that it was closed" sounds somewhat familiar, then you should not be surprised to learn that yes, this park doubled as Wally World. Don't believe me? Look here. As a parting gift, we spent the day at Universal Studios, which while nice, was no Wally World.

• Mark and I met up with my uncle Eliot, who was in town on business and armed with a sizable expense account. Where did we go? Ruths' Chris, of course. Not only was this my first time in such a steakhouse, we hadn't walked 10 feet before we saw this 80-something year old geezer hanging in the bar with a 20-something year old blond bombshell on his arm. Vegas, baby. The steak was good too.
  

Over the years, my Vegas visits have been devoted to bachelor parties, mancations, work, last-minute diversions (I was in San Diego and Logan was snowed in, so why not?) and as a tour guide for Jenn.

Why do I love it so much? Beyond the obvious - gambling, great food, endless entertainment options, the over-the-top stimulation of the senses - Vegas is a place where I can truly get away and lose myself for the better part of a week. Nothing really matters except gambling, eating copious amounts of food (as well as a few drinks) and having fun. I have very little contact with, and consideration for, the outside world. It's going to sound cheesy, but Vegas is my oasis.

Financially, my trips have been all over the spectrum: lose a little, win a little, break even (mostly), lose a lot, win a lot. Thankfully, I've never come home with an empty wallet. And yes, I know I've just doomed myself.

And so, with 20 trips in the rear view mirror, I would be remiss if I did not offer up a few thoughts for any Vegas Virgins who may be reading:

• If you are making your first trip, stay on the Strip, ideally in the middle. Your objective will likely be to take in as much as you can and because there is no way you can see all of Vegas on your first trip (unless your first trip is for a month), the best thing you can do is spend a day or so walking up each end of the Strip.

• If you make a return trip, rent a car and and see the sights. There are plenty of neat casinos, attractions and restaurants away from the Strip and you'll save money by renting a car, as opposed to taking a cab everywhere you go.

• If you are planning to gamble, do something that most people don't - learn how to play the games. It is amazing to see people sit down at a table and have no idea what they are doing. Yes, you are there to have fun, but geez, you are playing with real money, shouldn't you at least try and understand what you are doing?
  

• Unless you really like the heat, you should probably avoid going in the summer. One year, I flew to Vegas in late June for work and when I landed at midnight, it was 98 degrees. Weatherwise, the best times to go are late March-to early May or mid September- mid October.

• Be sure to hit "downtown," which is a few miles from the Strip. This is where Vegas really got started and features hotels/casinos that date back to the 50s and 60s.
  

• For those who think gambling is the sure sign of the devil - then why did you elect Obama? Bada bing! Thank you! I'll be here all week! - it is still worth the trip. There is plenty to do: entertainment, dining, shopping, tourist attractions, prostitution. Everyone should see Vegas once.
  

In less than two months, I will be making trip #21 for another bachelor party. While I am reasonably certain that I won't witness my 3rd Vegas snowfall - last December it snowed several inches (remember that foreshadowing thing?) - I am quite certain that win or lose, I am going to have a blast. And a big steak.

Ex GOP?

What is wrong with the Republicans? The played a fairly significant role in the world's economic mess, stood behind a President who left office with the worst approval ratings of all time, and think that global warming is just a result of God sweating (apparently the Lord just needs a good shower).

Today, their actions and messages are almost as ridiculous as the decision to greenlight Joanie Loves Chachi. Worse, their designated big mouth is officially on the record as hoping Obama is a failure. Groovy. Good thing he hasn't been tasked with pulling the world out of the worst financial crisis in 70 years...a crisis that was sparked largely by the actions of a Republican administration and Congress. Given that Republicans are as well liked as an STD, you would think that someone of stature within the party would step up and either distance themselves from Rush's comments or publicly reprimand the big lug. However, you would be wrong.

Which leads me to one inescapable conclusion: the GOP is off its rocker.

And I am a Republican. Sort of.

I've never formally affiliated myself with a political party - I am registered as "unenrolled" - although I've almost always voted with the right because I shared many of their positions on important issues. Clearly not all of them, but enough. However, I am becoming increasingly disenfranchised with the party. Why?

Fox News.

These guys could have taught the Nazis a thing or two about propaganda. It's unreal. To watch some of their programming, you would think that Obama is a Muslim terrorist whose only mission in life is to destroy the American way of life. While I realize that the pundits are simply catering to their audience, and while there is "some" truth to some of their points, the tone and tenor coming from Fox has long since passed absurd and is rapidly approaching "I think this is the Cubs' year" territory.

If for no other reason, check out the Daily Show every night for a collage of sound bytes from Fox News that is equally funny, sad and pathetic, and which can produce no reaction other than a swift shaking of the head.

Granted, disgust at one news channel is not the reason I am considering mutiny. However, it just might be the straw that breaks the camel's back.

So does this mean I am ready to become a Democrat? Um, no. There is a better chance that my wife converts to Judaism - well, beyond the fact that she already worships a Jew - or that I will ever again attend a Passover dinner with my family. ("So you're saying there's a chance?")

While I do agree with the donkeys on certain issues (such as the need to save the auto industry), we don't have a ton of viewpoints in common, especially the whole "any time we need money, we'll just raise taxes" thing.

Nope, I think my future political calling is the Libertarian Party (the "party of principle!"). I like these guys. Their mission statement : "We hold that all individuals have the right to exercise sole dominion over their own lives, and have the right to live in whatever manner they choose, so long as they do not forcibly interfere with the equal right of others to live in whatever manner they choose."

So basically, "everyone for himself" in a non-anarchy type of way. They don't care what your sexual orientation is. They don't care if you support or oppose abortion. They don't care what color you are or where your ancestors came from. Imagine that.

Of course, they also don't care for the income tax, a regulated healthcare system or our country's position of policing the world...so they aren't exactly perfect. However, much of what they stand for is common sense. At least to me. But then again, I am a bit of a whackjob.

So what is stopping me from declaring my undying love and allegiance to the Libertarians? Easy. They don't hold any real power. Sure, they might be one of the largest alternative political parties and sure, hundreds of Libertarian candidates have been elected or appointed to public office. But nothing of real stature - unless you believe that the position of Vice President of Lettuce at Shaws represents stature. If I decide to strictly vote Libertarian, am I wasting my vote?

Of course not, in the sense that I am exercising my right to choose. However, knowing that a Libertarian is unlikely to win office in a major election, does it make more sense to vote for Republicans, who are closer to my position than Democrats, and are significantly more likely to hold office? Good question. And one that I am going to have to figure out.

Until then, I'll stay as informed as ever, by tuning into Stewart and Colbert.

All you can eat

Stacey recently blogged about how the unofficial arrival of spring - baseball's opening day - sparks her annual craving for hot dogs. She is definitely on to something, although in my case, the official arrival of spring sparks my annual craving for birthday cake and the subsequent whining that I am one step closer to death.

Hot dogs are one of my favorite foods. In fact, if I am at a cookout and had to choose between a hot dog and a burger, I'd go with the hot dog. And you'd be hard pressed to find someone who enjoys beef as much as I do. Maybe it's because hot dogs are more of a seasonal food and something not typically ordered when eating out. Burgers, on the other hand, are one of the most popular foods served at restaurants and are enjoyed year round (speaking of which, if you live near a Red Robin, go and go often. Them's burgers are mighty tasty).

Fun Fact - During hot dog season (Memorial Day to Labor Day) Americans typically consume 7 billion hot dogs, which is the equivalent of 818 hot dogs consumed per second during that period. Impressed? Then be sure to check out the National Hot Dog & Sausage Council's web site for more stats that will blow your wiener.

For hot dog lovers, there is one day each year where the frankfurter is king. This year, the day is May 31. The place is Suffolk Downs in East Boston. The event? The 20th Annual Hot Dog Safari (I kid you not). This is the knockwurst of all hot dog gatherings - $10 provides all-you-can-eat access to about a dozen different brands of hot dogs, snacks, soda, etc. All proceeds go to charity, which means that you have the comfort of knowing that while you throw up the 17 hot dogs you consumed earlier that day, somebody somewhere is going to benefit from your gluttony. God bless America.

The Hot Dog Safari is the brainchild of a famous Boston sports radio host, who is perhaps a wee bit too obsessed with hot dogs. The first Safari was a bus trip for 200 people to Foxwoods, where a handful of hot dog companies set up in a function room. This year, 30,000 will attend, and why not? In these difficult economic times, $10 for all-you-can-eat dogs is a terrific deal. Sure, you might need to follow your meal with a handful of Lipitor and Pepto-Bismol, but as my good friend Red likes to say, you either get busy living, or get busy dying.

If you attend the Hot Dog Safari, the bad news is that it will probably take you close to a month to fully digest all that you've consumed. The good news is that by then, you should be hungry enough to attend the Phantom Gourmet BBQ Beach Party at the end of June. It isn't one-price, all-you-can-eat, but if you like BBQ, then you'll definitely want to check this out. 10 pit masters from around the country set up shop and for about the cost of a slab of ribs at a restaurant, you can sample ribs from each of the BBQ teams.

I attend this event every year with my pals Rob & Tim. It's a fun time - we eat like slobs, get BBQ sauce all over ourselves and after we're done, we talk incessantly about how quickly we'll have to hit the bathroom when we get home. Good times.

This year, the fun takes place on the weekend of Tim's wedding. I believe the plan will be to arrive at the ribfest mid day, eat until we get sick and then head straight to the nuptials. Tim is trying to convince his fiance to have her bridesmaids wear brown dresses, which would enable him to pig out in his tux so the BBQ sauce stains on the shirt won't look out of place. OK, I made that up. But he should.

If you love pork - and who doesn't? - (um, although perhaps in different ways), then this is your time. If you are a vegetarian, please go to church, beg for forgiveness and don't leave until you've seen the light.

What the hell do I do all day?

"What is PR?"

I've been working in public relations for nearly 13 years and I still get asked that question on a semi-regular basis by friends, family, countrymen, and every so often...myself. So, I figured now was as good a time as any to attempt to explain my occupation. Plus, I was struggling to come up with a good blog topic this week. So, today's blog becomes a giant plug for me and my clients.

I was going to post the definition of PR as adopted by the Public Relations Society of America, which is the world's largest organization of spin doctors. The PRSA is the grand poobah of our profession, comprised of the "best of the best" collection of "professional communicators" who can easily take a ridiculously complicated story and boil it down into a format that everyone can understand. And their definition is 378 words.

Here it is in a nutshell: I get paid to persuade all types of journalists (newspaper, magazines, online, TV, radio, etc) to write or report on my client or their product/service.

At least that is what we do at Schwartz Communications. My actual job is split between speaking with reporters, managing the five teams that I am a part of, and communicating with my clients.

A lot of people wonder if PR is similar to advertising. Not at all, but both functions have the same purpose: to communicate some type of message - "Our software is the best!" "This book will change your life!" "Eli Manning is the Antichrist!" - to the public.

With advertising, that message is completely controlled and paid for: through either an ad in the paper, a commercial on TV or radio, or a banner ad on the internet. It is a direct attempt to sell you something and you know it.

With PR, that message is delivered to the public through a journalist in the form of a story in the paper or on TV. Because reporters are supposed to be impartial folks who are interested only in news that benefits their particular audience, these stories are perceived as significantly more credible than advertising. Although a company's message cannot be completely controlled this way, the way in which it is delivered more than makes up for the loss of total control.

Simply put, ask yourself this: What is going to resonate more?

• A full page ad in the paper from Store X that says, "Our prices are the best around!"
  

• A half page article in the same paper by a reporter who analyzed all the stores in the area and concluded that Store X's prices are the best around.

Like most jobs (such as elevator operators), PR can have its ups and downs. The feeling I get when I open the paper and see a story that I convinced a reporter to do is pretty cool. On the flip side, for every reporter I work with on a story, 10 more weren't interested. In baseball, being a .300 hitter (succeeding 30% of the time) will probably land you in the Hall of Fame. In PR, you are a superstar if you bat .100.

And yes, it is frustrating being repeatedly turned down, although my dating life prepared me for a steady onslaught of rejections.

On the flip side, it is not easy being a reporter, as they are deluged with e-mail and phone calls from PR folks all day, and most of what they get is pure crap. However, from my perspective, it is incredibly annoying when I provide a reporter with a legitimate story idea that is not responded to or taken seriously. What do I mean? Glad you asked. Here are the 5 things I am currently working on:

Prostate cancer #1
WHAT IS IT? One of my clients makes a test that can help figure out if a person's prostate cancer is one of the majority that will grow slowly and likely never pose a serious threat or whether it is one of the few that will grow quickly and could result in death.

WHY SHOULD YOU CARE? Because this information, which until now had not been possible to come by, helps doctors figure out if patients need to undergo treatment, which almost always results in really nasty and sometimes permanent side-effects (like impotence and incontinence). Then again, if you're a guy and don't care about having sex and being able to pee without a catheter, you probably don't care.

REPORTER RESPONSE: Reporters who cover prostate cancer consistently talk about the need to tell the difference between benign and aggressive disease, which is exactly what this test does. However, because this test has not yet been the topic of a paper in a leading medical journal, reporters pay it no attention. Despite the fact that we have papers from the same journals proving the science behind the tests works AND there are docs around the country who are currently using it.

Dental impressions
WHAT IS IT? A very cool technology that produces a 3-D digital dental impression by allowing dentists to scan the inside of a person's mouth with a small camera.

WHY SHOULD YOU CARE? Ever have a traditional dental impression taken? It's disgusting: a liquid goop is squirted into your mouth (hey, get your mind out of the gutter) and over the course of 5 minutes, hardens into a putty that is yanked out. Impressions are taken for anyone who needs a crown or bridge, but because the impression is made of putty, it is usually flawed and the resulting crown or bridge almost never fits right, meaning patients have to go back to the dentist all the time for adjustments and/or replacements.

But a digital impression is done in half the time, without the goop and the crown or bridge fits perfectly.

REPORTER RESPONSE: Many TV reporters like this story, because it is extremely visual and easy to tell on television. As for everyone else? Forget it. Know why? Because health reporters typically don't care about dental stories, which are not a matter of "life or death."
Instead of a story on advances in dentistry, which affects just about everyone, reporters write story after story about the rising number of obese people in the world. OK. We get it. Obesity is a problem. Thank you.

Prostate cancer #2
WHAT IS IT? A system that uses technology similar to the GPS in your car to deliver a more accurate burst of radiation treatment in men with prostate cancer.

WHY SHOULD YOU CARE? It is normal for the prostate to move a few millimeters in different directions due to normal physiological functions (coughing, breathing, etc.). When this happens, the radiation beam can end up hitting some healthy tissue or organs right next next to the prostate, leading to some unpleasant side-effects. With this new technology, the exact location of the prostate is known at all times, so if it moves, the radiation beam can be adjusted. A more accurate dose of radiation is delivered and the irradiation of healthy tissue can be avoided.

REPORTER RESPONSE: A slightly diminished argument here. Most of our efforts are focused on working with reporters in cities where this technology is located. For the most part, reporters are eating this story up. However, national reporters tend to avoid stories on specific products because they feel like it basically serves as a commercial for said product. Never mind that it actually, you know, helps people...

Airplane airbags
WHAT IS IT? It's an airbag, rolled up into the seatbelt you wear around your lap. In the event of an impact, it deploys and fills the space between you and whatever is in front of you (seatback, bulkhead, etc).

WHY SHOULD YOU CARE? Because contrary to public perception, most (about 80%) airplane accidents are survivable, as they happen during takeoff or landing, when the plane is closest to the ground and flying at relatively low speeds. In many of these cases, people who die aren't killed by the impact, but by an inability to get out of the plane before they are overcome by smoke and fire, which generally happens after about 90 seconds. Why are they unable to get out of the plane in time? Because they are often knocked unconscious by the impact. The airbag is designed to prevent that from happening.

REPORTER RESPONSE: The airbag has been on the market for 8 years. Because it is not new, most reporters are not in a rush to cover it. This despite the fact that there is just about zero level of awareness in the general public. Does this make any sense to you? However more and more airlines are starting to put these on planes, so to their credit, reporters are at least paying attention.

OSA
WHAT IS IT? OSA stands for obstructive sleep apnea, a disorder that officially affects 18 million Americans (unofficial estimates peg that number between 20-40 million). OSA is a silent killer - most people don't know they have it and up to 90% of those who have it aren't diagnosed or treated.

WHY SHOULD YOU CARE? Because if you have it and don't treat it, you will probably develop other conditions that can shorten your life: heart attacks, strokes, heart disease, high blood pressure, diabetes, kidney disease, etc. In addition, those with OSA may suffer from sexual dysfunction, depression, migraines and are significantly more likely to cause a car accident, due to driving while barely being able to keep their eyes open.

REPORTER RESPONSE: Generally pretty good. Our campaign has facilitated more than 2,000 stories in just about 5 years. However, once a reporter writes about OSA, they generally don't want to cover it again for a long, long time. This despite the fact that new discoveries are made about the seriousness of the condition all the time - links to other diseases, etc. One of the most common things we hear from reporters is, "I already wrote about it, so I'll need at least a year before I cover it again." Of course, the same reporter writes about breast cancer or obesity every other week. In fact, the USA Today has a reporter who only covers obesity and weight loss regimens. It makes no sense: as a nation, we are bigger than ever. But because "weight loss" is a hot topic with health reporters, it will be written about ad nauseum.

Of course, I admit that the examples above are written with bias, as it is my job to promote them. Still, ask yourself: are any of these 5 things so trivial or useless that you wouldn't want to know about them?

Oh, while you are at it, ask yourself one more question: are you still awake?