In Defense of Joy

Honestly, this one had me at the title and I couldn’t think of a better way to kick off a list of good reads. So, here’s to sharing a little Joy. Join the counter-culture of being happy in a time when it’s needed most. More over at the Marginalian.

Speakers that Float

In the category of “Things I didn’t even know I needed, but now must have,” I give you the Floating Bluetooth Speaker. I listen to music all the time, and have made a huge investment in a Sonos system for my home. However, I’m always a little skittish about taking one of them outside, and their bluetooth options are pretty pricey. Now, I can have my music and a disco party underwater for less than $30 bucks. I’m not going to lie, I’ll probably buy two and link them for an underwater stereo effect.

So Shakespeare was a Pot Head?

Over at LitHub they reveal some new evidence that perhaps humanities most prolific creator of words might have had a little help from Mary Jane. As it turns out there were a number of clay pipes discovered under a former residence that contained trace amounts of cannabis residue. Now, there’s a scholar interested in exhuming the Bard to test his remains. Who knows? It could just be a “wild goose chase.”

Most know I’m a fan of good ole’ Billy. I bought this lexicon years ago when I was teaching his plays and sonnets in the classroom. It contains every word from every play with its intended meaning. If you’re into that sort of thing.

Movies + Cocaine

Wow, I guess my internet search history this week was a little inundated with drug references. It’s one of the unfortunate issues with writing when you need to look up details that most people would never dare type into a search engine. I’m am, no doubt, on a watchlist somewhere after working on the final draft of The Devil’s Road.

Cracked (aptly named here) came out with a list of the top 23 Movies Brought to you by Cocaine. There are a few on here that don’t really feel all that surprising, but also a couple that you may find a bit shocking. Who knew that family movies could be fueled with nose candy?

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007

As a huge Bond fan, I was super excited when they launched the most recent character arc with Daniel Craig. When Casino Royale came out, it felt like the first Bond film that actually captured the character that I found on the page in Ian Flemings books. However, I had no idea how difficult of a task this turned out to be:

That’s why I was baffled yesterday when I saw a headline on Reddit: one video had amassed over 130 million views in less than a week and had become the third most-watched video on YouTube. If you haven’t seen it yet, here it is:

In February of this year, YouTube claimed the top spot as the most-streamed network on televisions for the first time, according to Nielsen. It has held that position for the past three months of reporting, with Disney+ in second and CBS’s Paramount+ in third. So now, you can watch this oddly crafted, poorly synced, possibly funny video in 4K. It’s not exactly peak storytelling, but it’s striking a chord with a certain slice of the population. This creator-driven platform is taking over our screens.

The days of appointment-based television are long gone. When I try to explain that era to my kids, they wrinkle their foreheads in confusion. But maybe those days aren’t entirely gone. Strangely, the binge-everything-on-day-one streaming model has started to shift. First, we got seasons split into two parts. Then came the three-episode premieres followed by weekly drops.

Now it seems the tech companies have rediscovered something we always knew: releasing one story a week keeps your show relevant all season. Netflix even schedules certain types of content by day. It’s starting to feel a little old school again. Fortunately, for now, these A.I.-generated videos seem confined to the world of social media, which is how I view YouTube. Once you’ve gotten out of the creation business, calling yourself a network or even a platform seems a little overconfident.

In the writing world, including right here on Substack, I’ve seen a flood of content that looks like it’s been at least lightly brushed by artificial hands. (Top three lists, I’m talking about you.) I’m not judging. Well, maybe a little.

Even with all the so-called detection tools out there, it’s hard to tell whether writing is fully human or quietly courtesy of SkyNet. The em dash debate alone could wear you out. Honestly, you almost have to inclued a few mistakes just to prove it wasn’t written by a machine.

Personally, I like to use A.I. when I’m stuck. Lately, it’s become a helpful distraction as I work through the third act of my current project, The Devil’s Road. I released the initial part of it over the past year as serialized fiction.

Now I’m experimenting with dropping sections of the story into image generators, mainly Midjourney. I know what you’re thinking. A.I. art gets the most heat among creators because it was at the center of the initial job-loss panic when all this started. Still, I have to admit, it’s a little addictive.

I would never use it in a final production, but it’s become a useful way to communicate an idea. It works as a kind of visual shorthand for character, setting, and mood.

Back when I was working in design, I had a man crush on Ming Cho Lee. He taught students to understand story through character and to express that journey in physical form. One of his go-to exercises was the Character Board. He encouraged students to collect photos of everyday people who embodied the characters in the stories for which they were designing.

He always emphasized the importance of using unrecognizable faces. If the person is famous (say, Will Ferrell as Richard III 🤞) it’s impossible to separate the image from the actor’s history. That defeats the point, which is to have a focused discussion about the script. Through these boards, students learned to talk about theme, tone, and narrative. Their designs grew from there.

In the same way, if these tools help you express ideas more clearly, there’s no reason to feel guilty about including them in your process. They are just tools, and like most tools, they’re here to stay. A hundred years ago, the car replaced the horse. You can bet that wranglers, grooms, and stablehands everywhere cursed the noisy contraptions that bumbled down the street. Now, we all stare in wonderment when you see someone riding a horse on the street where cars are supposed to be.

Thankfully, these new contraptions still require the human touch to be effective. In fact, the further away humanity gets from the root of the work, the more terrible the work becomes. The Uncanny Valley effect can be felt, that deep sense that something isn’t right. Images and videos may become more realistic, but the nature of where they draw their inspiration will have to remain human.

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So, if you’re curious. It’s become common place for all kinds of storytellers to create pitch decks for their work. Thankfully, I’ve had a good deal of art history, design classes, and color theory in my past education which has allowed me to be decent at expressing myself with images. However, these A.I. tools certainly take it to a new level. Love to hear your thoughts.

“What are we celebrating?” I asked.

“It’s Juneteenth,” she told me with an odd look. I nodded and gave her my best “of course,” face. I had no idea what she was talking about. The year was 2012. I was 34 years-old.

I grew up in the south. In fact, I had spent the past three years living in rural Georgia in a town that became a central shipping point for the Confederate army. Soldiers took over the local women’s college and turned the building into officer quarters and a hospital. No one celebrated Juneteenth, which is interesting given their most famous resident.

I met Winfred Rembert while living in Georgia. We had a nice lunch one afternoon in a quaint Southern setting, the type that can only be found in Georgia (Spanish moss in the trees, chess pie, and the sweetest tea you’ve ever put to your lips). He recounted a memory of his life in that little one-stoplight town in the middle of the cornfields, one that I’ll never forget as he told it. It’s recounted in a Sotheby’s article about his life and work:

“…while fleeing a white mob during a march in Americus, he was arrested for stealing a car and beaten in jail. He escaped but was shortly recaptured by the police. Then a lynch mob abducted him and locked him in the trunk of a car. They drove him to a tree, hung him by his feet and attempted to mutilate his genitals. While Rembert survived, he was left with lifelong pain in his groin and ultimately incarcerated for ten years.”

Sitting a block from the tree while he told the story was surreal. You could tell he felt the same. He hadn’t been back in some time.

Back at the park I found myself sweating out a tall glass of lemonade while talking to a crowd of folks that were probably wondering why I was there about as much I was wondering why they were there. I was working on a large arts initiative, and I sincerely wanted to make sure that it was a community wide effort, not something they did on “that” side of town.

I’d grown up in this community, one literally divided in half by a set of railroad tracks, the white (wealthier) community on one side, everyone else on the other. It wasn’t so much that way in 2012, but it also wasn’t all that far removed.

After giving my little speech, I walked around talking to folks. Some of them were curious about what this art project was all about, but most just wanted to make sure that their pond was restocked with fish annually to give the local kids something fun to do after school.

At some point, I ran into a few old friends from high school. It had been over fifteen years since we’d seen each other, but we caught up pretty quickly. I gathered up the courage to ask one of them, a former football team mate, what we were all doing out in the sun together.

“What’s Juneteenth?”

He didn’t tell me, just laughed at my expense. That’s okay. I deserved it.

Now four years after it’s become a national holiday, I’m baffled at the number of people who still don’t know anything about the celebration. At this point, it’s willful ignorance, a trait I learned a lot about growing up in the South.

However, that sentiment will die out. The right and the just will prevail over the course of time. Most of us would prefer not to have to take two steps back for every three steps forward, but that is our way. Maybe this next generation can help us speed up the path towards a better future.

Happy teenth everybody!

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a little extra …

If you dig the image above, you should look for more of Winfred’s work. His medium was leather. It was a cross between Native American leather-working and Clementine Hunter’s paintings. The one below is called The Curvey. It’s the watering hole Winfred use to go to when he was playing hooky from school.

For the past year, I’ve been working on a script idea concerning the concept of INCELs, which stands for INvoluntary CELibate for those who recently got an internet connection. It’s an online community of men who consider themselves to be so unattractive that women will never have anything to do with them. The movement hit the media spotlight in 2014 with the Isle Vista mass murder where Elliot Rodger murdered 6 people and injured 14 others. Before doing so he released his manifesto, a document that reeks of mental degradation, self-aggrandizement, and privilege fueled by a toxic internet culture. It seems Instagram isn’t only negative for young women.

Adolescence is a study in the recent iteration of the Incel issue, now fueled by an even more toxic community, the Manosphere. It’s a pro-masculine, anti-feminism (read anti-female) movement propped up by the likes of weak men like Andrew Tate, Myron Gains, and “thinkers” like Jordan Peterson. No links are provided here, but I highly suggest, if you have a son, you take a look at their search history. YouTube’s algorithm, in particular, seems to be built for pushing this poison.

My research into this subject started partly as an exercise in character and world-building for the piece of fiction I was writing. However, it’s taken me back to some of my early moments as a youth, thankfully in the years when the internet was primarily in its nascent stages and thought more of as a novelty by most, and a tool by a rare few.

As an adolescent, I bought a copy of The Unabridged Edgar Allen Poe. Poe, a romantic in an age of industrialization and transcendentalism, was worried about being shunned by his peers and ignored by women. His first published piece was credited as, “By a Bostonian.” He wrote poems about his plight as a young man attempting to find love. He felt so shunned by the opposite sex he married his 13-year-old cousin at the age of 27. Thankfully, laws have mostly caught up, but if you’ve been following the recent stories around Andrew Tate, it sounds like a similar song with a different tune.

Here’s an excerpt from Alone.

ALONE

From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were—I have not seen
As others saw—I could not bring
My passions from a common spring—
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow—I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone—
And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone—

Poe was 19 or 20 when he wrote that. Now an excerpt from The Happiest Day.

THE HAPPIEST DAY

The smile of love—soft friendship’s charm—
Bright hope itself has fled at last,
’Twill ne’er again my bosom warm—
Tis ever past,

From the mind of an 18-year-old boy. Doesn’t he sound happy /s? You can trace this line through Poe’s work, not just his earlier pieces. For Annie, one of his last poems published in 1849, six months before his death, is about his unrequited love for a married woman. Here’s an excerpt:

FOR ANNIE

The sickness—the nausea—
The pitiless pain—
Have ceased, with the fever
That maddened my brain—
With the fever called “Living”
That burned in my brain.

The moaning and groaning,
The sighing and sobbing,
Are quieted now; with
Horrible throbbing
At heart:—O, that horrible,
Horrible throbbing!

And ah! of all tortures
That torture the worst
Has abated—the terrible
Torture of thirst
For the naphthaline river
Of Glory accurst:—
I have drank of a water
That quenches all thirst:—

I ate this stuff up as a young man, but it was delivered to me through the lens of horror. The first novel I read of my own volition was Stephen King’s Misery. I kept it hidden under my bed at the age of thirteen, afraid my parents would find it. King introduced me to Poe. Then, in my freshmen year of high school, I had the most amazing English teacher who read The Bells aloud in class. It was a full-throated, guttural, screaming affair. That afternoon I went downtown and bought my copy of Poe’s work. I still have it on my bookshelf.

Now, a parent of two (boy and girl), working through this recent iteration of male self-loathing dressed up in tight gym shorts, beards, expensive watches, and fast cars, I can’t help but see that we all go through periods of self-doubt, gender and sexual identity aside. The difference now is the influence, the message, the platform. What was once seen as abhorrent has become celebrated. What was once considered excess has become the goal.

We can change it, but it will take a recognition of what we have allowed our society to become. We have to shed light on those that are trying to influence this next generation. They are the same snake oil salesmen of old, but now they have blue check marks.

Good luck out there…

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If you’re looking for a balm to the these toxic messages, I’d suggest a deep dive into Scott Galloway. He’s leaning hard into positive messaging for young men. Here’s a recent cut where he eviscerates Elon Musk and those who idolize this type of behavior.

Seriously, the online chatter—especially in the Gen Z/Alpha community—is on tilt. The loss of one of their primary sources of entertainment and information has them up in arms, and I get it. I mean, I’ve been on the site at least a dozen times.

(Note to Developers: Can we create a “sarcasm” font style? Okay, thanks!)

For what it’s worth, this is not the first time a culturally significant network has had its life cut short, and I’m not talking about all the effort people put into their MySpace pages back in the early ’00s. No, I’m talking about something much, much more influential in the world.

USA Network’s Up All Night … and yes that was the clearest photo I could find. Honestly, it’s probably a higher quality image than was originally aired.

If you’re under the age of 35, you’ve probably opened up a new tab and are currently Googling. Let me save you the effort. Between 1989 and 1999, there was a channel on television (yes, you had to turn a dial) called USA Network—now just “USA,” owned by NBC Universal.

Every Friday and Saturday night after my folks went to bed, I was greeted by Gilbert Gottfried and Rhonda Shear introducing either an independent horror movie or a raunchy teen comedy. The show would start around 10 PM and typically had a double feature with short comedy sketches during commercial breaks featuring the two stars.

Now, the movies were edited for content—sometimes so thoroughly that the plots didn’t make sense. However, this was where a generation of X’ers learned to love horror. I was too young to rent these movies on VHS. Although I did occasionally sneak one of those little hard plastic cases into my room at night, volume on near-silent, face a few inches from the screen so I could reach the buttons on the VCR if I heard someone coming down the hall.

But if Mom had rented The Bodyguard for the fifth time, I just had to wait until the house got quiet. Then I could see movies like It’s Alive, Space Raiders (basically Guardians of the Galaxy before it was cool), and the occasional titillating time-travel sci-fi flick like Dinosaur Valley Girls. Granted, I typically liked the weirder shows—a trend that continued into my late teens and early twenties. My friends eventually quit letting me pick the movies.

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It was an amazing curation of some of the worst—and best—independent films on the market. For a decade, between the ages of 11 and 21, I was fed a regular diet of censored gore and smut. It was glorious. But, as with all good things, it had to come to an end.

When the network changed ownership, the new C-suite decided they wanted to create a more “upscale” brand, and Up All Night was certainly not sliding into that window. Oddly enough, the cancellation of this late-night onslaught of indie B-movies coincided with the start of WWE’s “Era of Aggression,” also on USA Network. Perhaps viewership just wasn’t what it had been in the early days. Or maybe the advent of DVDs shifted the market away from this type of programming.

Whatever the reason, the show was canceled, and the place I relied on to feed me a regular diet of off-color entertainment and pop culture references was gone. In its wake, however, we now see movies like X and its sequels/prequels MaXXXine and Pearl. I wouldn’t be surprised if Gilbert Gottfried introduced these just before midnight today—they tick all the right boxes.

You’ve also got other amazing horror films from this year, like Late Night with the Devil (my personal favorite of 2024), Longlegs, and Terrifier 3. All of these would have fit perfectly in an Up All Night lineup.

All that to say, for my younger audience out there: “It’s going to be okay. I promise.” Everything worth saving always comes back around again, even if it’s lost. It’s just the way of things.

In twenty years, when we’re all watching movies on our living room augmented reality cubes and the average runtime is 4.5 minutes (with an intermission for ad breaks, of course), you’ll be able to hanker back to the good ol’ days—when you could just lay on the couch and get bite-sized bits of entertainment nonstop in your eye holes.

P.S.

For those looking for a deep dive, I found this great Letterboxd list from user Noah Lee that catalogs the movies aired during the show, and boy, is there some nostalgia candy inside. It’s super comprehensive, but I don’t think I’ll ever watch Flesh Eating Mothers again—though I’m sure it holds up. I’d like to remember it exactly as I first experienced it: my nose six inches from my 13” RCA set-top box, a peanut butter roll-up in one hand, and a cherry Coke in the other.

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Never apologize for being weird in a world full of normal.

–Zach Pogrob

The Dick Van Dyke Show has always been one of my favorites. I remember watching it on Nick at Nite, along with My Three Sons and The Beverly Hillbillies. If it wasn’t in black and white, I wasn’t interested. ’60s-era comedy, a heavy comforter, and a warm waterbed made for a great way to end the day.

Rumor has it that in the clip above, Mary Tyler Moore wasn’t supposed to successfully complete the trick shot. There was a different stinger written for the commercial break, but as luck would have it, she made the shot. The look on both of their faces is absolutely classic. You can even hear the excitement from the in-studio audience, who likely knew it was supposed to go a different way.

Improv isn’t something that comes naturally to most people. You have to be pretty comfortable in your skin to dance in this way. So, be yourself—because that’s all anybody really wants to see anyway.

Have a great week!

Leadership is about empathy. It is about having the ability to relate and to connect with people for the purpose of inspiring and empowering their lives.

-Oprah Winfrey

If we’ve worked together, you know I have some pretty strong feelings about what makes for a good leader. When you’re at the top of the food chain, the weight can feel unbearable. Your job is to keep the train on the tracks, and everywhere you look, you see men in black hats with stacks of dynamite.

… but hey, that’s the job. It’s why you make the big bucks.

Conversely, I’ve seen firsthand how bad leaders react. Leadership positions require a hard reset from your past employment experience, and it’s not for everyone.

There’s no more time for fear when issues rise to the surface—and there will always be issues. There’s no more need for CYA (cover your ass) emails; it’s your job to inspire work to happen. Motivating your team is your responsibility. Finger-pointing, accusations, and temper tantrums have no place, as they only breed discontent among those you need most.

When things go wrong—and they will go wrong—you rally the troops. You look for solutions and then celebrate the wins.

Now, get out there, inspire others to be the best they can be, and have a great rest of your week!

(for those that can’t see me, I’m gesturing generally at the screen)

I’ve worked on a ton of short films, web series, online shorts, live streams, and the like. I’ve only attempted a feature once. It was 2006—perhaps the worst time in history to attempt to make a feature film, especially when you have no idea how to make one. It was a grand transitional moment for the industry after a number of strikes, the birth of digital film as a medium, and the celebritizing (did I just invent a word?) of film festivals.

At the time, I was a graduate student in an MFA directing program for theatre. I was drawn to the playwrights. I wasn’t interested in working on something that had already been done, trying to sprinkle my own special sauce all over it. I thought—and still believe—that the work of a director (especially in the theatre) is to serve the story and the playwright’s vision in a way that’s best for the audience. Plus, I’ve always liked to go first because then there’s nothing else to compare it to.

By working with playwrights, I got to help shape their stories in space. It was a great partnership that allowed them to play with words and immediately see them on their feet. We took the good and the bad. I worked outside of my comfort zone on things I didn’t understand or even like, but I always wanted it to be amazing. I was rooting for the writers. I wasn’t there to add my personal shock and awe, but to bring their vision to the stage.

Shock for the sake of shock has always run dry for me. I tend to see through the bullshit that all too often people label as “artistic expression.” My favorite memory of this was while working on a production of Buried Child by Sam Shepard (one of my writing icons). The director decided the best way to open the show was with an absurdly loud version of Zero by The Smashing Pumpkins. It was 1999, so it was still relatively mainstream, and they were from Chicago, where the production was being staged.

Sure. Fine. But I didn’t get it. I was a scenic artist on the show, so I didn’t have the agency to weigh in on the creative decisions, but I couldn’t help myself. It was probably because I had spent three days building and painting a large projection screen that matched the set thematically. The screen allowed the director to project the opening lyrics of the song.

If you’re unfamiliar:

My reflection, dirty mirror

There’s no connection to myself

I’m your lover, I’m your zero

I’m the face in your dreams of glass

So save your prayers

For when we’re really gonna need them

Throw out your cares and fly

Wanna go for a ride?

She’s the one for me

She’s all I really need, oh yeah

She’s the one for me

Emptiness is loneliness, and loneliness is cleanliness

And cleanliness is godliness, and God is empty

Just like me

It’s a minute and 20 seconds to the double tap Jimmy Chamberlin makes on his drums, which then echoed, fading to silence for the opening of the play. The opening is supposed to be near silence, except for the pattering of rain. Dodge, an elder man, sits on a couch watching television while sneaking a nip of whiskey from a hidden flask.

The director, as it turns out, just really liked the lines: “Emptiness is loneliness, and loneliness is cleanliness, and cleanliness is godliness, and God is empty, just like me.” For what it’s worth, there’s certainly some thematic tie to the script here—but isn’t that the point of watching the play?

I had another director tell me once, “I put running water in all my productions.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because it symbolizes life, and all theatre is about living,” he said. We were in a seminar in graduate school. This is where I learned to question everything, and so far, that’s worked out for me.

“What if the play is about death?” I’ll admit I’ve always been a bit of a smartass, and I wasn’t really digging what this guy was dishing out. Why shoehorn in an idea because it’s flashy if it doesn’t serve the story? Well, this is why I found myself primarily working on original works.

As luck would have it, one of those original works was a tight little three-person script that I thought would make a great feature film. We already had the actors. I had a friend with a camera and experience shooting. I figured we could raise a little money, and spring break was less than a month away. How hard could it be to shoot a feature in five days if everyone already knew their lines?

As it turns out … it’s hard. Very hard.

However, we did it. I lost my voice on the third day. I think I only slept ten hours the whole week, and I was certainly not alone. I remember setting up a generator in the woods next to an old oil tank that had long since been abandoned. We had a generator, and I had purchased some par cans and a pole to string them up. It was 3 AM, freezing cold, and I was completely drained. But I climbed that ladder with a smile on my face because I love telling stories.

You can still watch it on Amazon with its 1-star

That movie wasn’t so good. I still love it, though and all the people that worked on it. It was fun to make, but it wasn’t what I had hoped it would be. We were all young, and none of us really knew what we were doing all that well. There was little to no coverage, so editing was a nightmare. Also, plays don’t translate all that well to screen. Who knew that six 15-minute scenes weren’t all that interesting when you weren’t in person? I guess a whole lot of people.

Well, here we are now, twenty years later, and this time there’s an experienced team on the scene. We are dripping in creatives with experience, awards, trophies, and fancy titles.

Now, will there be some flash? Yes, but it’s our flash.

Will there be musical numbers? You bet your sweet ass there will be. But they will be our musical numbers.

Will there be running water? No. There will be no running water because I’m not a pretentious weirdo who wears scarves in the spring.

Okay, there may be some running water.

Most importantly, with this team, everyone loves to tell stories.

Can’t wait to share more with you soon.

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Why would anyone have white carpet anyway?

I drove past their old house when I was back in the South a few weeks ago. It was my grandmother’s birth home. I haven’t been inside for 28 years, but it will forever be the place where “Thanksgiving” resides in my memory.

Silver candelabra on the table…

Cranberry sauce in the blue flowery dish…

Turkey at the head of the table for carving…

All of us sitting around the table, holding hands, heads down, and eyes closed as my grandfather says the blessing.

It was peaceful, which was rare. Only a week prior, I had watched my dad get his lights knocked out by the man who was now (then) thanking Jesus for the bountiful meal spread over the table. Dad still had a bruise under his left eye.

I liked to peek during prayer. Was everyone REALLY praying, or was this some sort of odd tradition that we did because the generations before us did the same? Every now and then, I’d catch someone else peeking. It was usually my sister. For what it’s worth, I still like to hold hands before I share a meal with my family. Guess it’s one of those odd traditions after all.

During these holiday gatherings, we never shared what we were thankful for. I think that’s just in those silly holiday movies—you know, the ones that are another version of Cinderella but this time in Aspen?

I was always thankful my dad was home.

He only came back around during the holidays, and we had a court order to spend the weekend with him. It was a rare chance to “catch up” with my father. One holiday, we actually tossed a football in the backyard for a couple of hours. I’d seen that in a movie. One holiday, he brought a lion.

Yep, a lion.

Spending holidays with my dad was a little unusual in hindsight. I mean, it caused a series of holidays in my early years to be completely devoid of my mother, who I lived with. I had a “holiday” family and a “when you’re done with your court-mandated” family. I loved them both, but I’m really curious where some of these “family” judges got their advice back in the ’80s.

In later years, I spent many Thanksgivings and Christmases with my mom, but those early days were always disjointed. I also had divorced grandparents, which, as a kid, was great—more presents at Christmas and birthdays. However, negotiating whose house to visit first, where to have dinner, and whose spare bedroom to take became an annually shared algebra equation. When I got married, it became calculus.

In 2001, my wife and I decided to see what our future child might look like while on a road trip from LA to Las Vegas. As luck would have it, Buffalo Bills in Primm, NV. happened to have just the type of device required. In hindsight, we maybe should have just smiled. However, despite the results, we decided to have kids anyway.

Over the past twenty-six years, my own little family and I have built traditions, which has been relatively difficult given our gypsy lifestyle. If anything, I find tradition in just being together. It’s a moment to not worry about what’s happening in other places in the world. It’s time to forget any project or piece of work that’s nagging for your attention.

We mostly do “friendsgivings” now. In fact, we’ll do a couple of those because we are blessed with a great group of friends—and thankfully, none of them have white carpet. However, if we find ourselves in another one of those “movie moments” where they go around the table asking what we are all thankful for, I think I’ve got a pretty good answer.

I’m thankful for change, growth, my family, and mostly, I’m thankful I get to be around as a dad.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

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Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.

-T.S. Elliot

There’s no feeling in the world better than betting on yourself and winning. It’s absolute euphoria. On the contrary, losing can bring you to the pit of despair.

However, this quote from Elliot is a great reminder that the juice is always worth the squeeze. Up or down, life isn’t a dress rehearsal. So, get out there and give it all you got!

Fun fact, while researching T.S. Elliot I learned that a series of poems he wrote for his godson called Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats was a point of inspiration for the creation of Cats by Andrew Lloyd Weber. We should never forgive Elliot for that.

I said what I said.

Have a great rest of your week!

Over the past two decades, I’ve helped raise nearly $200 million. Writing that down really puts it into perspective: that’s $10 million a year, though most of it happened in a high-energy, five-year span with an incredible team by my side. It truly takes a village, and with a dedicated and inspired group, you can move mountains.

To share what I’ve learned, I’m excited to introduce a new newsletter—dedicated entirely to the world of nonprofits. In this week’s Reformed Southerner, I’m offering you a glimpse. Whether you’re a staff member, board member, or donor, I highly recommend subscribing. Each week, I’ll tackle key topics that nonprofits face every year.

This past week, I launched a series on navigating limited funding. The first month’s focus is on handling competition in a crowded marketplace—because let’s face it, there are countless worthy causes out there, and it’s easy for your voice to get lost in the noise. My goal is to provide you with actionable tips and strategies to stand out and make an impact.

I hope you’ll check it out, and rest assured, we’ll return to our usual programming next week. 😉

The Barrow Gang

Actionable strategies and insights for nonprofits ready to grow and make an impact.

By R. Austin Barrow

Funding for small to medium-sized nonprofits can feel a bit like Sisyphus, eternally pushing a rock uphill, and the odds really feel stacked against you when working in a crowded field. You’ve got passion. You’ve got purpose. But often, you lack the resources and visibility of bigger, more established organizations. Branding and brand recognition can go a long way in establishing how you and your team stand out. We’re not just talking logos, but smart, resourceful, and well-thought-out messaging that plays to your organization’s strengths.

Consistent Branding: Your Organization’s First Impression

Sure, first impressions matter, but when your fourth impression is different from the first, second, and third, your message looks unfocused. A well-coordinated brand makes you memorable. It makes you trustworthy.

Take PATH as an example. This is a large nonprofit that hadn’t updated its website, messaging, logo—anything—in over a decade. Their employees struggled to explain what the organization did, which led to missed funding and partnership opportunities. They rebranded as a “global team of innovators,” which clarified their message, improved accessibility, and boosted visibility and trust with donors. Size should not limit you or your passion.

Consistency matters. When you present a cohesive face—logos, fonts, colors, messaging (especially messaging)—it signals professionalism. Potential donors feel confident that if you can manage your brand, you can manage their contributions.

Amplify Your Reach: Mastering Social Media

It’s waaay more than just your Facebook page. It’s not enough to just post content; you need to tell compelling, personal stories that resonate with your audience. That takes time and practice. Go to Google and search #TeamTrees. I’m not giving you the Google link because the search is part of the learning process. They’ve raised millions of dollars and planted over 20 million trees by engaging influencers. Their stories don’t just use great visuals—they tell an emotional story. You may not have access to your local YouTube star, but take note of their visuals and narratives. Personal stories matter.

Post impactful stories, highlight your volunteers, grab some behind-the-scenes footage, and give your nonprofit a personality online. People connect with human stories, and social media is the best place to share those stories in real-time. Don’t be afraid to engage. If you get comments, respond. Encourage followers to share. Make your audience feel like they’re participating in the process.

Community Engagement: Building Local Trust

Online engagement is great, but sometimes you’ve got to step outside to make an impact. Sponsoring other groups’ events, hosting workshops, and collaborative efforts with like-minded groups can get your message out to new audiences. Boys & Girls Clubs of America excel at embedding themselves in their communities, turning local engagement into a national movement.

As a small to medium-sized nonprofit, you can make a similar impact with targeted engagement. Try something that fits with your mission or join forces with a local event like a 5k or a volunteer opportunity. This isn’t a time to hand out fliers or talk up your organization, but a time to be present and build meaningful, face-to-face relationships. You might even meet businesses or community members you’ve never had the opportunity to work with before.

Media Outreach: Telling Your Story to the Masses

Once you’ve gained some traction, it’s time to get local or regional media involved. Journalists, bloggers, and podcasters are always looking for a great story, especially if it benefits their audience. Developing these relationships can amplify your message.

Look at Charity:Water, a carefully crafted media company that is visually immersive. They transformed their mission into a movement. One of their standout initiatives was The Birthday Project, where supporters pledged to raise funds for clean water on their birthdays.

Even if you’re starting small, a well-written, thought-provoking press release about your latest success can catch the attention of those looking for excellent content for their audiences. Once you’re on their radar, your message can be amplified to a larger audience you’ve never had access to before.

Collaboration: Partnering for Greater Impact

Why go it alone? There’s strength in numbers. Partnering with other organizations—whether fellow nonprofits, schools, community groups, or businesses—can multiply your impact. Co-hosting events, collaborating on campaigns, or partnering with local businesses gives you access to supporters who may have never heard your message.

Take the collaboration between DonorsChoose and Google, which brought funding and attention to classroom projects nationwide. For a small to medium nonprofit, these collaborations can be incredibly impactful. Co-hosting an event, collaborating on a campaign, or partnering with a business gives you access to supporters while they gain access to your members.

Thought Leadership: Content Marketing Without the Ego

Sharing your expertise can establish your nonprofit as an authority. Whether through blog posts, videos, or webinars, creating valuable content positions your group as a leader, even in crowded spaces. Charity:Water does this brilliantly, weaving emotional stories of clean water access into everything they publish, from blog posts to social media updates.

For your nonprofit, consider sharing behind-the-scenes stories, advice on relevant social issues, or insights from your fieldwork. By becoming a go-to resource, you build trust and engagement with potential supporters who may eventually donate or partner with you on future projects.

SEO Optimization: Getting Found Online

The internet can feel like a vast void where your nonprofit might easily get lost. SEO (Search Engine Optimization) is essential to ensuring your website ranks high when people search for topics related to your mission. Clean structure, the right keywords, and regular updates help search engines like Google recommend your site to users.

Depending on your site’s hosting, you can use plugins, tools, and extensions to track how it’s viewed. Google Analytics is especially useful for determining how people access and engage with your work. Leaning into commonly used channels or themes that resonate with web users can increase traffic, donations, volunteerism, or data gathering.

Alumni and Testimonials: Let Others Tell Your Story

Few things are as powerful as testimonials from those you’ve helped. Featuring beneficiaries or volunteers in your marketing lets others speak about how your work has impacted their lives. These stories work as reviews—potential donors are more likely to give when they hear directly from those whose lives you’ve changed.

Gather similar stories from your supporters. Why do people donate? Let them share why they feel your organization is essential; you may find others agree with their reasoning. Whether through video clips, written testimonials, or social media shoutouts, letting others tell your story creates an authentic narrative that resonates with new supporters.

Email Marketing: Connecting Directly with Donors

Email marketing is a direct way to keep supporters informed and engaged. Done well, emails can drive donations, promote events, and strengthen connections with your community. Newsletters are ideal for building an online community beyond your local network.

Each email should have a clear purpose—whether sharing a success story, announcing a new goal, or simply saying thank you. Segmenting your audience, even if small, ensures you deliver the right message to the right group.

Transparency and Reporting: Showing Donors the Impact

Transparency builds trust. Donors want to know where their money goes, and clear financial reports and regular updates provide peace of mind. Habitat for Humanity excels in this area, sharing detailed reports on their fund use, complete with data, visuals, and personal stories illustrating their impact.

Emails, newsletters, or your website can keep donors and potential donors up-to-date, fostering consistent, clear relationships.

By combining these strategies, you can grow your nonprofit’s visibility and, more importantly, its impact. Defining your brand and speaking in a specific, thoughtful voice to your constituency will go a long way in ensuring that you shine in this crowded nonprofit landscape.

Remember, it’s not just about being seen, but it’s about being trusted, being respected, and being supported. Good luck!

At The Barrow Gang, we’re passionate about helping nonprofits reach their full potential. Whether it’s strategic planning, board growth, or fundraising, we have the tools to support your mission. Schedule a free 15-minute consultation to share what you’re working on and discover how we can help make your vision a reality.

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For my fiction lovers, I’ve compiled the entirety of The Devil’s Road: Part 1 into a single post for quick access to each chapter in order. Share with friends and enemies alike!

Welcome to Part 1 of The Devil’s Road, a blood-soaked journey inspired by the F.B.I.’s Highway Serial Killings Initiative.

In the late 1990s, over 500 bodies—most of them women—were discovered along the interstate highway system, many clustered around the Interstate 40 corridor stretching through Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, and Tennessee.

This fictional narrative explores the origins of that chilling discovery through the eyes of Samantha Hart, a determined sheriff in Sequoyah County, Oklahoma. Haunted by the unsolved murder of her sister, Samantha’s quest for vengeance uncovers a gruesome pattern of killings that she suspects are connected.

Joining her is Moses Blackrock, a Native American F.B.I. agent caught between his duty and his demons—fueling his gambling addiction by running small meth deals on the side. Entangled in their fight for justice is Heather Jean, a truck stop prostitute whose next customer may be her last, as she stumbles into the path of a predator who has made this highway his hunting ground.

The Devil’s Road is a tale of revenge and survival set against the unforgiving backdrop of the American heartland—a place where the innocent are prey, and justice is as elusive as a ghost in the dark.

The road stretches on, Faithful Rambler, as we delve deeper into the blood-soaked highways with Chapter 6 of The Devil’s Road. Today, we find Madeline barreling down a rain-soaked Oklahoma highway, a duffle bag full of meth riding shotgun and a deadly storm closing in. But the brewing tempest outside is nothing compared to the danger lurking just out of…

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Creativity means to push open the heavy, groaning doorway of life itself.

-Diasaku Ikeda

Daisaku Ikeda dedicated his life to promoting peace through dialogue … an amazing and timely ideal.

Embodying a humanistic activism that crossed borders and beliefs, he encouraged the idea that true change begins within—an individual commitment to empathy and understanding that can reshape whole societies. 🤯

His dialogues with thinkers, artists, and activists reflect a vision of unity, each conversation a small but powerful act in the pursuit of global harmony. Through Ikeda’s legacy, we see the potential of conversation, respect, and curiosity as the simplest—and most radical—pathways to peace.

Talk to a stranger this week. You may be surprised in what you learn.

The world as I knew it had changed.

I don’t like to write about politics as a practice. It’s a rabbit hole that, should I fall into it, would leave me as just another lost soul wandering in the dark, trying to make predictions based solely on my own perspective—and likely apologizing later for my complete ignorance on any number of topics. That’s not to say I’m apolitical; I simply prefer to keep writing about life separate from politics … unless we’re delving into the creative.

So, what follows is about the election, but not about tHe eLeCtIoN. Continue at your own risk.

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A good number of us went to bed this past Tuesday wondering what had happened. Some of us woke up Wednesday morning, hoping it had all been a dream. I found myself doing this at 2:30 AM on Wednesday. After weeks of predictions that this election would be a squeaker, I had braced myself for a prolonged wait for the results, honestly expecting Donald Trump to come out as the victor. However, the speed of the results—and the surprise of the popular vote—caught me off guard.

As I lay in bed and opened my phone, I watched the AP’s live feed update to announce Trump as the 47th President of the United States. Yep. What I’d seen before going to bed actually happened.

If we’ve spoken in person, you know how critical I’ve been of this man—and more importantly, what he’s done to this country on a cultural level. Decorum is a word I learned in graduate school. It even sounds like a graduate school word, right? DE-CORE-UM. You can almost feel your nose lifting into the air as you say it out loud.

All too often, the media brings on lofty academics who invoke past leaders, using their speeches, journals, and other writings to demonstrate sophistication and verbal mastery as if to prove that our next leader is, by comparison, an abject idiot. I remember seeing the same critique aimed at George W. Bush. It’s been a recurring theme for the right since Reagan left office. I mean, have you actually listened to Louie Gohmert speak? Yikes!

So, where did this all begin? In 2016, we blamed Facebook. I actually agree with Max Read (he’s on Substack now and one of my top recommendations for subscribers). In fact, he posted earlier this week, blaming the “bro movement” on TikTok for 2024’s results. I tend to follow his logic here. The right’s social media presence is astounding; if anything, this was the election decided by podcasts. On The Problem with Jon Stewart podcast, Stewart highlights the Democrats’ outdated “ground game” tactics dating back to 1980.

By the way, I don’t ever in my life want to hear about our vaunted ground game will put us over the top. It’s a 50/50 tossup race, we’re sure of it, but the vaunted ground game — turns out that people knocking on other people’s doesn’t get them to do what you want them to do as, I believe, vacuum and Bible salesmen have probably known for many, many centuries. Fuck us, fuck me, I was wrong, will continue to be wrong.

I think you can actually trace this entire movement back even further. When Trump was elected in 2016, a good friend recommended a book that completely changed the way I think about why we all are the way we are. If you missed it, let me reintroduce you to American Nations.

We are, whether you voted for Trump or not, a nation of immigrants. Some of our people came of their own accord, some not. Woodard outlines the great migration of people across the “free world,” forming what he calls the American Nation. Each “nation” has an identity that shapes the decisions and policies fueling the divisions we still grapple with today.

The book, written in 2011—years before our current cultural moment—was a wake-up call for many. Perhaps our assumptions about individuality were actually more deeply rooted in our past than we realized. The section on the South, or the “Deep South,” as Woodard calls it, was particularly interesting to me.

…they were the sons and grandsons of the founders of an older English colony: Barbados, the richest and most horrifying society in the English-speaking world. (p.82 DS)

Woodard dives into the concept of an elite society that perceives itself as inherently suited to govern—a ruling upper echelon. Ironically, this has now become the very complaint the region directs toward the left. Visit the South today, and you’ll hear constant complaints about political correctness, language restrictions, and feigned horror at “plain-speaking, real Americans.” In other words, the tactics they once relied on are no longer at their disposal, hence the sense of upheaval.

If American Nations provides an entry point into understanding our new normal, I’d point to Andrew Marantz’s Anti-Social as the most recent addition to the story of how we got here.

Reading American Nations helped me understand the historical and cultural divides that have long defined this country. But Anti-Social takes that understanding into the digital age, where these divides are amplified and exploited through media—especially social media. It’s a shift from timeless roots to the timely, from historical context to current influence, where the line between information and manipulation blurs. Together, these works draw a clear line from the past to our present cultural moment, illuminating forces that shape the world I thought I knew.

The opening scene of Anti-Social is a study in obliviousness. The lack of self-awareness within the current ruling class of right-wing ideologues is on full display. The author is hanging out with his subjects as they prepare to attend the “DeploraBall,” a celebration of Donald Trump’s election in 2017 held at the National Press Club in Washington, DC. Cassandra Fairbanks, a “journalist” who worked for the right-leaning, Russian state-owned “news” agency Sputnik, shares her love for Bob Dylan while “The Death of Emmett Till” plays on a record player. It’s peak obliviousness.

Over several years, Marantz does an impressive job tracking these small-time media figures as they rise in popularity on social media platforms, spreading misinformation, hate, misogyny, and propaganda. It’s a journey through the chaos of early 4chan culture and the QAnon phenomenon.

If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend Anti-Social. Though slightly dated, it offers a wealth of insights to help readers identify the hallmarks of this subculture’s tactics, from the memeification of society to figures who have become potential cabinet members in the upcoming administration. It’s a disturbing preview of what’s to come.

All this to say, we should have seen it coming. The country I thought I lived in, when I woke up last Tuesday, isn’t the country I actually live in, and I have to come to terms with that … we all do.

I assume we’re all readers here, but a little video fun can help highlight the history that’s brought us to this current moment. I first heard about this on last week’s episode of ScriptNotes. At the end of each episode, the two hosts share “one cool thing.” Craig Mazin mentioned a docuseries on Netflix called Mr. McMahon. This six-part series follows the rise of wrestling in American culture, particularly the rise—and likely fall—of wrestling’s greatest heel, the former Chairman and CEO, Vince McMahon. Here’s the trailer:

It’s a fascinating study of wrestling’s rise in popular culture and its deep, often unexpected ties to shifting cultural norms. I loved wrestling as a kid. To be honest, it’s still a guilty pleasure today. But, although I tune in from time to time, my interest has faded over the years.

Watching the documentary, I realized that my waning viewership mirrors my evolving political views. I reached a point where what they were selling no longer resonated with me. If you’ve seen or plan to watch the series, I checked out as a regular viewer around the early 2000s—around episode four, “Attitude.” Wrestling … changed.

With it came a crudeness, an objectification of women, a rawness that I found dull. As I moved into a life focused on creative work, it all felt like echoes of the fall of the Roman Empire I’d studied in history class. Maybe I was becoming what the right might now call “elite.”

The flash of flesh and blood no longer held the same thrill. I needed more. I needed character development, deeper human inquiry, and a big, introspective look at the question, “Why are we all here, anyway?” Back then, I thought of it as putting away childish things. That’s not to dismiss those who still enjoy it—I get it, truly. We all need something we can just turn on and escape into. Escapism is a necessity, and if wrestling is your thing, more power to you. But wrestling’s changing storylines are a striking mirror to the shifting dialogues in our culture.

We, as a people, as a culture, aren’t who I thought we were. My reality isn’t the reality, and I’ll need time to reconcile that. Harris is not Andre the Giant, and Trump is certainly no Hulk Hogan (except, perhaps, in his WCW days). This isn’t doom and gloom. I still believe in the American experiment and hold onto hope for progress. But if I’m honest, we’re living in our “Ruthless Aggression” era, here on the wrestling timeline of American life.

Sometimes life is about risking everything for a dream no one can see but you.

-unknown

Let’s face it: this week has already been a doozy. So, I thought I’d drop this a day early. Lord knows I needed a little levity. So, I can only assume the feeling is mutual.

Now, I don’t know which one of you gave all these politicians my phone number, but the level of desperation is palpable. Colin, if you’re reading this, I don’t live in Texas, but I still want you to win. I’m convinced nobody really likes Ted Cruz—anywhere—EXCEPT maybe in Texas, and even there, I’m not sure Texans are all that excited about him. ⭐️

Jon Tester, lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise, you’d have my vote if I lived in Montana. I’ve visited a few times 🎣—the fishing’s nice, and so are the people.

Last but certainly not least: Kamala 🙏.

If you haven’t yet, VOTE.

Welcome back to The Devil’s Road, where vengeance runs as thick as blood through the veins of Sequoyah County. In Issue #23, the final installment of Part 1, Sheriff Hart and Agent Blackrock pursue Madeline through storm-choked highways. They’re closing in, but neither realizes that one wrong step could set off a chain reaction no one’s prepared to face.

If you missed yesterday’s post, can catch up on Issue #22: Last Stop at the Lone Wolf.

Now, settle in, my Faithful Ramblers, for Chapter 6, Issue 4 of The Devil’s Road.

Share Reformed Southerner

In 2004 an Oklahoma Bureau of Investigations analyst discovered a crime pattern along the Interstate 40 corridor between Oklahoma and Mississippi. Subsequently, The Federal Bureau of Investigations (F.B.I.) started the Highway Serial Killings Initiative. They discovered over 500 bodies of women along the interstate highway system with more than 200 potential suspects, a trail of bloodshed that coats the heartland. The Devil’s Road is a serialized novel based on this horrific discovery.

A darkening horizon on the Oklahoma plains might promise life-giving rain for farmers, but it can just as easily hide a killer. Most days, you can have one without the other, but today, the odds are not in favor of those traveling the sun-baked highways. Thunder rumbles across the open landscape, and a small hatchback rolls down the lonely blacktop, heading toward a growing wall of black clouds.

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Welcome back to The Devil’s Road, where vengeance runs as thick as blood through the veins of Sequoyah County. In Issue #22 Sheriff Hart and Agent Alexander enter the Lone Wolf, they’re hunting for answers, but each move risks exposing secrets neither is willing to reveal.

If you missed yesterday’s post, can catch up on the Issue #21 On the Edge of the B…

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Welcome back to The Devil’s Road, where vengeance runs as thick as blood through the veins of Sequoyah County. With secrets tightening around him, Mac Gibbons faces a threat more chilling than confinement—and it’s waiting for him in the shadows of Issue 21.

If you missed yesterday’s post, can catch up on the Issue #20, Red Dirt & Cold Steel.

Now, settle in, my Faithful Ramblers, for Chapter 6, Issue 2 of The Devil’s Road.

Share Reformed Southerner

In 2004 an Oklahoma Bureau of Investigations analyst discovered a crime pattern along the Interstate 40 corridor between Oklahoma and Mississippi. Subsequently, The Federal Bureau of Investigations (F.B.I.) started the Highway Serial Killings Initiative. They discovered over 500 bodies of women along the interstate highway system with more than 200 potential suspects, a trail of bloodshed that coats the heartland. The Devil’s Road is a serialized novel based on this horrific discovery.

The cold white fluorescent bulbs in the Sequoyah County Correctional Facility pop and buzz as they come on in the visitation room. A couple of metal tables and benches, bolted to the floor, populate the empty space. A row of windows lines one wall, looking out over the empty prairie landscape and the eighteen-foot razor-wire fence, separating those on the inside from freedom.

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Welcome back to The Devil’s Road, where vengeance runs as thick as blood through the veins of Sequoyah County. In Issue #20, Heather finds herself on the run, forced to navigate a brutal game of cat and mouse as the net tightens around her—and those she’d risk everything to protect.

If you missed yesterday’s post, can catch up on the Chapter 5 Digest.

Now…

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