With nothing but the utmost respect and gratitude to the number of old and new friends who have been reading my weekly (somewhat bipolar) musings, I still find myself asking: what do I need to do to really break through to an even larger audience?

Have I been too nice? Too fearful of insulting someone? Is controversy required in today’s editorial media landscape? Furthermore, aren’t we already collectively drowning in an online sea of information much of which has little or no real value in our daily lives?

To those who perceived no reflective inspiration in the stalking Easter Bunny story, you got me there.

Moreover, do we live in a world that requires that I “sext” a picture of my wiener in order for my work to be noticed by a larger population?

If I did, who would teach me what I need to know to execute the “sext”?

And more importantly, who would I “sext” to? I fear even my partner Derek wouldn’t find that very interesting or entertaining.

Comment from Derek: “Wouldn’t that make it even smaller?”

Make no mistake, writing ATTACK BUNNIES has been the single most professionally rewarding experience of my life because of the lessons the process has taught me about myself as a parent, partner, sibling, boss and pet chicken owner.

I would still like to think my greatest contribution to the reading public, through my words and experiences, is an honest portrayal of the “workplace” through an understanding of the diverse definitions of “work” as relating to jobs, parenting, relationships, school, community affiliations and friendships.

Part of the backstory you do not know is ATTACK BUNNIES is based on a completed book manuscript of the same name. Although three literary agents have responded favorably to my manuscript, and though these are my words and not theirs: I am a literary casualty because I am a (gasp) nobody.

Evidently, to join the elite club of published literati, one must be famous to begin with. Even proverbial-piece-of-shit Jesse James has published a book.

Sandra Bullock, I love you.

But I ardently believe in my concept of Confessional Development: a sense of humor, honesty and authenticity mixed with, in my particular case, a healthy Virgo-induced fear of the unknown, spontaneity and all-things bunny rabbit.

Plus, I don’t want the lessons of those who have left us, the Georgas of the world, to be forgotten.

Despite any giggles and guffaws in posts such as Tangent Police, Captain Jack, Research and Catastrophic Injustice, I am truly trying to help raise the consciousness in my readers. If that epiphany is that I’m a bigger fool than you are, so much the better.

After all, I am the one who walks my dog with alligators but freezes in my tracks when a bunny rabbit crosses my path.

My greatest ATTACK BUNNIES shock has been in observing how individual posts have been received. I began this editorial journey intent on throwing myself under the bus, not only to get a laugh or two, but to compel my readers to reflect on such personal issues as childhood, parenting, work ethic, “sales” and the drama we all encounter whether we tread the boards or not. I was confident that the world needed to laugh only to discover that my most thought-provoking and nostalgic posts, Subpoena and Jackie, easily reached the most sets of eyes.

Has Oprah’s departure from daytime TV left a void? What do people really want to read? Considering my most popular Facebook post of 2011 revolved around a wayward tree frog attacking my crotch while I watched So You Think You Can Dance in my living room, the outlook for meaningful narrative still seems rather grim.

I used to pride myself on reading one book a year. But when I realized my 2003 book of choice was I Don’t Mean to Be Rude, But… by Simon Cowell, I was faced with the shocking reality that my inquiring mind had hit rock bottom. Now, a real book, and not some lame Kindle facsimile, is never far from my side.

But do people still read anything longer than a tale which can be completed during a single toilet sitting? Do I have to resort to sixth-grade potty humor to gain favor with the nationwide reading populace?

FYI: All ATTACK BUNNIES posts can be completed during any potty visit of moderate length. This has been part of my master plan all along.

As far as my exposure, indecent or otherwise, I must confess that I sometimes question if I have exposed my true self or simply a comedic characterization of the boy I was and the man I have become.

Am I fearful of sharing my real thoughts and views because, as an editorial “nobody,” I wonder if anyone really cares what I think?

The answer is YES!

So in the spirit of the most overused catch phrase on the internet today, “Just Sayin’,” please allow me to dip my toe into slightly more potentially controversial waters.

This will also prove, once and for all, just how delightfully disjointed my thought process can be and most certainly why my company is named MindZoo. But, if all goes well, one or two of you will get fired up about something.

Here goes nothing:

ü Shouldn’t the folks sitting in the exit row of an airplane actually be able to assist in an emergency? Isn’t there some sort of Captain Sully Test that each must pass?

ü Why are people more willing to become car #10 in a Burger King Drive-Thru line than be customer #1 at the counter inside;

ü The simple addition of Mrs. Dash seasoning blends to any food product immediately qualifies as “cooking;”

ü I loathe nepotism. How else can Nicholas Cage’s career be explained? And without Martin Sheen, Charlie Sheen would have become a narcissistic, psychotic, skirt-chasing asshole without money. (He would also have had the requirements necessary to be one of my sister Janice’s previous husbands);

ü The Gays don’t recruit. But should any of us sign up a willing new participant, just like Ellen DeGeneres famously purported, we do get a new toaster oven. (Or, for overachievers, Rewards Points toward an iPad or Mediterranean Cruise of Greece);

ü Also, the Gays really won’t want Tom Cruise or John Travolta—FYI;

ü My republican father and mother no longer oppose gay marriage, sing Alleluia, with this monstrous hurdle leapt, legislative reform must be right around the corner;

ü (Derek will be the bride);

ü I don’t think I have ever met anyone who is not at least partially insecure—except Derek (which helps to explain why I have nominated him for “Bride” status);

ü If political extremists would yield the floor to those of us who a) believe in a woman’s right to choose yet b) hold an equally impassioned view regarding the right to life within our own family circles, just think of what an interesting discussion might be had;

ü The Ford Pinto is the coolest car ever made;

ü When ordering a Diet Coke at a restaurant, the answer to “Is Diet Pepsi alright?” is always “no;”

ü I feel comforted knowing that Santa Claus vacations near my home on Marco Island, Florida;

ü And lastly, if I hear one-more child on American Idol, or any reality competition show, say they have dreamed of this moment their entire lives, I’m going to hurl.

Watch out, here comes my rant.

Justifiably, we are constantly coached to never lose sight of our dreams—but this sermon invariably comes from someone on the cusp of, or in the throes of, fame and rampant success.

In truth, the vast majority of us won’t achieve our dreams exactly as planned. Who teaches us how to evolve without fame, fortune and complete-goal realization? Someone must collect our garbage yet I dare say no child dreams of that profession. How do we reach a balance between never giving up (important) and embracing our reality (equally important)?

Who speaks for us nobodys of the world because, collectively, we nobodys can make or break your famous ass?

In her recent book, I’m Over All That, Shirley MacLaine has the balls to succinctly warn of the disparity between non-famous “civilians” and those on the other side of the headlines, “How can we be one of them when we are profiting (and suffering from!) the vicissitudes of fame? Once we become famous there is only the memory of the struggle. We never want to be un-famous again.”

So please explain to me why I am now reading life lessons from Rob Lowe and Shania Twain?

And with her dreams fully realized, why does Elizabeth Vargas still terrorize me in my dreams? Fun? Revenge? Ambien?

One of the reasons I have chosen to somewhat remain ATTACK BUNNIES’S “man behind the curtain” is that I don’t want anyone to take pity of me. For example, after reading a draft version of Jodie Fostered, my friend Cindy had tears well up in her eyes. She felt sorry for chubby, prepubescent me which was the last reaction I wanted. I didn’t feel sorry for me at all—I felt sorry for the soda can.

But that’s another cornerstone of Confessional Development: what’s the point of swimming in self pity when you have nothing to gain by doing so? Besides, I am the one who furtively thinks I can be taken as seriously as literary superstar Jesse James. Just try to make your hopes and dreams seem more pathetic than that—I dare you!

Personally, when I question the validity of my dreams, both past and present, I have always taken great solace in Garth Brooks’s profound ballad, Unanswered Prayers. Trust me; this insightful song deserves another listen.

I had actually completed this essay—obviously pondering the validity of an almost 49-year-old man still chasing his dreams in his Second Act.  Wondering who or what would guide me if I was forced to surrender to contentment. Then, as if ordained by the Universe or Shirley MacLaine herself, a very special letter from my 21-year-old daughter arrived on Father’s Day. Here is part of what Maribeth had to say:

“I just wanted to share with you how proud I am of my dad for chasing his dreams. Dad, you are doing everything you can to become a writer and make a name for yourself and you’ve got to see how many people look up to you, including me. You are inspiring for a young adult like me to look up to. You make me want to go out and try to follow my dreams no matter what it takes. You’re strong dad. Probably the strongest man I have ever known and I just know you’ll succeed.”

Derek, RKJ, Kevin & Maribeth, 2011

Seems to me, I just did.

And for those of you who ask: where did I get my sense of humor? I reminded my 80-year-old father recently that I was only six years away from my Senior Citizen Discount. His swift response, “I’ll take 49 again and pay extra.”

Be thankful for every day.

Dream BIG. Live BIGGER.

Just Sayin’.
 

Humorist, Editorial Writer, Speaker, and Entrepreneur Randall Kenneth Jones is the creator of professional-courtesy initiative, RediscoverCourtesy.org, and the “confessional development” chronicle, AttackBunnies.com. His creative communications agency, MindZoo, is dedicated to the development of highly targeted and innovative written and visual communications for use across today’s wide spectrum of online and offline media.

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