You Herd Me!: I'll Say It If Nobody Else Will by Colin Cowherd Page A
Authors: Colin Cowherd
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vegetables Mom just dumped on your plate. You know, the ones she dished out while wearing a slightly devilish smile.
Because let’s face it: once word gets out that spending a few hours in one of those winged metal things is no day at the theme park, we’ll pretty much eliminate the kind of whining that could possibly lead to a six-day trip toward sunshine.
Settle down, mom-zealots. Nobody here is suggesting kids should board last and sit right next to those loud jet engines. Although I’ve got to think rows 28–34 are about the best place to put them. After all, planes don’t back into mountains, right?
And nobody is suggesting that kids can’t spend the entire flight stuffing their faces with however many pounds of junk you packed in that duffel bag. Although it’s worth noting that kids have small stomachs, and a glass of warm milk on an empty stomach might help kick-start a nap.
I’m just pleading for reason here. As the self-appointed president of Citizens for a Slightly More Rigid Boarding Process, I’m just throwing out some ideas for discussion.
There’s no reason to get all upset. We’re all on the same page.
Or should be.
Everyone wins with quieter planes—especially busy radio hosts who, if disrupted, could lose valuable prep time and come into work groggy and cranky.
Or who knows what else.
I also understand something important about why kids fly: grandparents miss their grandchildren. They need those annual visits and look forward to them. And that’s why, as a public service, I’d like to propose another civic organization to join my brilliant Citizens for a Slightly More Rigid Boarding Process.
The new group? Cheaper Seats for Grandparents Who Want to See Their Grandkids But Can’t Because They’re on a Limited Budget.
See where I’m going here?
Two birds, one stone.
I admit, my initial tone was fairly harsh. By now, though, I’m confident you can see my heart is in the right place.
And that right place is Row One, Seat A, surrounded only by adults.
Fit is underrated.
When I used to work in local news you would see one popular anchor get plucked away by the rival news team. He or she would get a fat new contract and it was all the talk of the town among the media. Yet they never delivered the same ratings magic. Why? It’s so obvious, but news managers continue making the same hiring mistakes. It’s about the fit, not the face.
News teams that win the ratings war all deliver a certain comfort or chemistry to the viewer. The members of these teams appear, at least, to like one another. The new well-compensated, polished news anchor is now on an imaginary pedestal. He doesn’t feel like one of the guys. He’s a hired gun.
An intruder, almost.
In life, finding that perfect fit is difficult and underrated. They say everybody has an interesting story to tell and I would add this: they also have a gift if they can discover it and polish it. They just need the right fit. Even people who appear to be unmotivated have a fit.
Take Pot Dealer Guy.
About once or twice a year you see one of these stories hit the front pages:
A 36-year-old high school dropout who lives over his mom’s garage is running a sophisticated marijuana ring.
As you read the story your jaw drops. The same dude who refused to wear a belt or tie to his brother’s wedding is now the driving force behind a $234 million hydroponic pot farm with an intricate irrigation system that is the envy of most agricultural centers.
What in the name of Cheech, Chong, and Jeff Spicoli is going on?
What’s going on? Pot guy found his fit. It wasn’t in corporate America and isn’t even legal in America. But he found it.
Fit happens. Make it happen for you. Legally, of course.
Leaving Las Vegas
What happens when your trip down memory lane takes a detour that doesn’t make its way down a lane after all? What if, instead of a lane, it’s a strip—a strip full of sex pamphlets, drunks, and Elvis
Because let’s face it: once word gets out that spending a few hours in one of those winged metal things is no day at the theme park, we’ll pretty much eliminate the kind of whining that could possibly lead to a six-day trip toward sunshine.
Settle down, mom-zealots. Nobody here is suggesting kids should board last and sit right next to those loud jet engines. Although I’ve got to think rows 28–34 are about the best place to put them. After all, planes don’t back into mountains, right?
And nobody is suggesting that kids can’t spend the entire flight stuffing their faces with however many pounds of junk you packed in that duffel bag. Although it’s worth noting that kids have small stomachs, and a glass of warm milk on an empty stomach might help kick-start a nap.
I’m just pleading for reason here. As the self-appointed president of Citizens for a Slightly More Rigid Boarding Process, I’m just throwing out some ideas for discussion.
There’s no reason to get all upset. We’re all on the same page.
Or should be.
Everyone wins with quieter planes—especially busy radio hosts who, if disrupted, could lose valuable prep time and come into work groggy and cranky.
Or who knows what else.
I also understand something important about why kids fly: grandparents miss their grandchildren. They need those annual visits and look forward to them. And that’s why, as a public service, I’d like to propose another civic organization to join my brilliant Citizens for a Slightly More Rigid Boarding Process.
The new group? Cheaper Seats for Grandparents Who Want to See Their Grandkids But Can’t Because They’re on a Limited Budget.
See where I’m going here?
Two birds, one stone.
I admit, my initial tone was fairly harsh. By now, though, I’m confident you can see my heart is in the right place.
And that right place is Row One, Seat A, surrounded only by adults.
Fit is underrated.
When I used to work in local news you would see one popular anchor get plucked away by the rival news team. He or she would get a fat new contract and it was all the talk of the town among the media. Yet they never delivered the same ratings magic. Why? It’s so obvious, but news managers continue making the same hiring mistakes. It’s about the fit, not the face.
News teams that win the ratings war all deliver a certain comfort or chemistry to the viewer. The members of these teams appear, at least, to like one another. The new well-compensated, polished news anchor is now on an imaginary pedestal. He doesn’t feel like one of the guys. He’s a hired gun.
An intruder, almost.
In life, finding that perfect fit is difficult and underrated. They say everybody has an interesting story to tell and I would add this: they also have a gift if they can discover it and polish it. They just need the right fit. Even people who appear to be unmotivated have a fit.
Take Pot Dealer Guy.
About once or twice a year you see one of these stories hit the front pages:
A 36-year-old high school dropout who lives over his mom’s garage is running a sophisticated marijuana ring.
As you read the story your jaw drops. The same dude who refused to wear a belt or tie to his brother’s wedding is now the driving force behind a $234 million hydroponic pot farm with an intricate irrigation system that is the envy of most agricultural centers.
What in the name of Cheech, Chong, and Jeff Spicoli is going on?
What’s going on? Pot guy found his fit. It wasn’t in corporate America and isn’t even legal in America. But he found it.
Fit happens. Make it happen for you. Legally, of course.
Leaving Las Vegas
What happens when your trip down memory lane takes a detour that doesn’t make its way down a lane after all? What if, instead of a lane, it’s a strip—a strip full of sex pamphlets, drunks, and Elvis
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