J.J. Goodman: Writings, Musings and More

In the past twenty-four hours I have seen two things that have destroyed my faith in both the auto industry and the screeners at the New York State Department of Motor Vehicles in charge of issuing personalized license plates. And you guys already know how I feel about dopey, personalized license plates… so let’s start there. While walking through the parking lot the other day I happened upon a candy-apple red Buick Enclave with a personalized license plate that read (and in the immortal words of that sage scrivener Dave Barry, I swear I am not making this up) “___s 4x4.” (Note: the three letter name has been removed not to protect the twit possessing said license plate, but to protect yours truly from getting sued.) Ok, where to begin… First: It’s. A. BUICK. The terms “Buick” and “4x4” should never, ever, be muttered in the same breath unless the sentence goes thusly: “I traded my Buick for a 4x4.” No, dear driver, an Enclave is not by any stretch of the imagination a 4x4.

A friend of mine died today. He was barely forty years old. My friend is gone, and I am ashamed. I am ashamed because, frankly, I am not entitled to feel the personal loss that I feel from his passing. He and I were not nearly as close as we probably should have been. We shared the same, closest friends, and it was through their grace, love and hospitality that he and I, and others, were able to reconnect just a short while ago. Though separated by miles and years, it took the lot of us merely minutes of being in each others' company to laugh, remember and embrace. I am ashamed because my friend has slipped from my life without me taking the time to fully welcome him back into it. That, I will forever regret. As I sit here and ponder though, I realize that I shouldn't be ashamed to feel personal loss. He was a good man and a good father. He had a generous heart and infectious smile. Everyone, every single person that knew him, should feel a personal loss, because the worl

It is indeed a small world, after all. (You can thank me later for planting that God-awful song in your ears and filling your minds with all those creepy, animatronic, plastic-faced little creatures from the Disney World ride. The stares, the creepy, creepy stares…) Gah! I did it to myself. Moving on…. For those that mock social media or advances in technology that have bred a global interconnectivity, I say this to you: PLLLLLLBBBBBBBBBTTTTTTTTTTT. (And yes, for the record, I am sticking my tongue out, have my thumbs in my ears and am wiggling my fingers in your general direction. Juvenile? Yes, yes it is.) At the time of this writing, it is morning, Eastern Daylight Savings Time. By this time this morning I have already communicated with friends of mine in: various other cities/towns in the state of New York ; Washington , D.C. ; Florida ; Baltimore , and Australia . Yes, Australia . As in Oz, Land Down Under… (I love that song, incidentally. I mean seriously – name

“Let me get this straight,” his roommate asked. “You think The Matrix trilogy sucks?”             “Yes,” James answered, matter-of-factly, without ever looking up from his keyboard. “Why?” Sean asked incredulously.             “Does it have Keanu Reeves in it?” “Yes.” “I rest my case.” “Yet, you liked the new Tron movie?” Sean continued. “Did it have Olivia Wilde in it?” “Yes,” Sean replied admittedly. “I rest my case.”             Sean shook his head. “Dude, we seriously need to get you out more.” “This, I do not dispute,” James answered, again without ever looking up from his computer. His fingers typed feverishly as line after line of computer code worked its way across the monitors. “Well, Chrissy and I are going to grab a bite to eat. Are you sure you don’t want to take a break and come alone? You have to eat, you know.” James’ only response was to hold up the can of Salt & Vinegar Pringles that sat next to the keyboard on

As I grow older (and I hold fast to the theory Mr. Jimmy Buffett espouses in song, namely that I am growing older, but not up), I have come to find that there are great many things that I have seen/experienced/ learned about in my lifetime that have gone by the wayside or are otherwise grossly underutilized in today’s society. This is just a sampling. Why I am I writing this? Because this is the stupid sh*t I think about at 3:37 a.m. while staring at the ceiling. (Just read it. You either have nothing better to do or are procrastinating, and you know it.) 1.          Gatorgum . (Right now a handful of you are saying “holy crap, I remember that!” The rest of you are likely reading this and thinking that I forgot to take my medication… again.) Gatorgum was an incredibly, disgustingly awesome chewing gum put out by the makers of Gatorade back in the early 80’s. The tag line was “if you want to lick dry mouth, chew Gatorgum,” or something along those lines. It only came in the two ori

A little trip to the Dark Side... ______________ Purgatory He laughed. In Purgatory, he laughed. It wasn’t so much the fact he was there that made him chuckle, but rather the fact that Tim Burton would be pleasantly surprised to know that the waiting room scene in Beetlejuice was astoundingly accurate. Granted, those that occupied the room with him were far less caricaturized than the fanciful characters in the film. Nevertheless, the setting was eerily similar. Had he not known he was dead, he would have thought he was in a doctor’s office waiting room. A very large waiting room. There were rows and rows of chairs, many of which were occupied. There was no music, though, just an unnerving silence. From an unseen door a woman’s voice called out names in no particular order. In all honesty, he had no idea how long he had been there. It could have been minutes or months for all he knew. At one point he tried to count the names that were called, and for a while he was doing pre