J.J. Goodman: Writings, Musings and More

  What’s in a name? Is it really important? I suppose if your name was Andy Hitler, or Otis John Simpson, or maybe Richard Head, then perhaps you might have a stronger opinion. (Giving you a moment to ponder… wait for it… wait for it… get it now?) Don’t even get me started on the parents, whose surname is “Da,” who named their kid “Zippidy-Do.” In the immortal words of Dave Barry, I swear I am not making that up. Google it. (Or Bing it. We are equal opportunity web browsers here.) Admittedly, I myself play the moniker manipulation game. This may come as a shock to many of you [insert dripping sarcasm here]: Goodman is not my given name. (GASP!) But… it is. True story. Goodman is my name. But it isn’t. Scratching your head yet?  Put it this way – A general rule of marketing is that people are less likely to buy something if they can’t pronounce it. Volkswagen found this out the hard way, eventually creating a self deprecating ad campaign to bolster lagging sales for the ...

This is what happens when I combine a lack of sleep, an hour long commute, humidity, and just enough caffeine to stir my senses... As always, your comments are appreciated! _______________________ October Flame             By noon it would be an unseasonably warm day for early October. At seven o’clock in the morning, however, the air was just cool enough to allow a humid condensation to hang in the air and blanket the morning in a thick fog.             “Keep clear of the moors,” he mused aloud, reciting one of the lines from the campy, classic horror film An American Werewolf in London . It was little things, like quoting from his favorite movies, or counting the number of a certain car he saw while driving, that kept him conscious during his daily commute. Otherwise, the sound of his tires spinning on the monotonously flat highway generally tended to lull him...

            Well, October is upon us, and we are now one-quarter of the way through the 2012-2013 NFL football season. Yes, I know this is a little late in coming. Please forgive me, as my mind has been occupied with other extremely important things (like trying to confuse people with my status updates on Facebook, that whole “work” thing, and general neurosis). Not that those things don’t still currently occupy the chasm of my psyche, mind you, but after watching several football games, it has become clear that people need this guide. So, I figured I might as well refresh everyone’s memory about football watching protocol in Western New York . Feel free to tweak this fan’s guide for your particular football market, but remember: this is copyrighted, so even if you tweak it I still own the rights. You can send your royalty payments to me through PayPal.    Fan’s Guide to Football – Western New York Edition 2012 1....

Life is all about timing. Even your car has a timing belt. (And NO, it is not made by Gucci or Armani. It’s a coil of rubber that wraps around pulleys and… Never mind….) The point is, everything in life boils down to timing. I was reminded of this fact over the last few days. On Tuesday of this week, for the first time in easily five years or more, I took to the ice in an effort to resurrect my hockey playing “career.” And by “career” I of course mean “going to skate & shoot prior to joining a men’s league to pretend I am a far better player than I really am.” My hockey playing, and skill level, were both hampered early on by a blown out knee. Still, I love the game, and can offer no legitimate reason as to why I’ve stayed out of it for so long.   Why start back up now, at nearly forty years of age? Timing. A friend of a friend needed skaters, and I just happened to be available. So, in the immortal words spoken in the great Tom Cruise movie (before he went bat sh*t crazy) R...

As we have officially entered Autumn and have begun our farewell to September, it should come as no surprise that thoughts of ghosts and ghouls have crept into my mind. Here is a little teaser of something different, slightly controversial, and a little off the wall. Oh, and just so you know, taking the new Zzzquil sleep aid and then watching random crap on your iPad? Let's just say that, well, the result is what you find below. I, as always, remain interested in your feedback. Enjoy! __________________________ The Haunters             Tristan didn’t care for being dead. She hated it, actually. For her, the worst part was never again being able to taste pizza, her mother’s apple crisp, or a good steak. Ironically, she also missed the one thing she had always complained about: the harsh, New England winter. Still, by and large, death wasn’t all that much different than life, with a few exceptions...