07 June 2024

"REST IN PEACE"


An Original Collection of Provocative and Powerful Essay's by R. B. STUART. Her Work Begins and Ends at the Crux of Truth, Sorrow and Humor---Capable of Slicing Through Your Psyche and Piercing Your Heart


Rest in Peace
By R. B. STUART
Post Forty-Nine


To My Sweet Sister: 

Thank you for taking care of me as a baby. 
Thank you for sacrificing your childhood for us. 
Thank you for years worth of thoughtful momentos & gifts even if I was an ungrateful recipient!
I'm sorry that your life after Florida wasn't the most joyous, but who could have predicted.
I'm sorry that I couldn't have done more sooner.
And I'm sorry that most of your life was lived misunderstood.

I know you have Alex in your arms right now. 
That Karen has her arm around your waist telling you how beautiful you are. 
Mum is caressing your face with her hand. 
And Daddy has you on his lap.
I'm jealous you are with them already, but we'll join you soon.

Till then roll around in the warm sun, 
Tip toe across the clouds,
Sore with the wind,
And enjoy the freedom of lightness, and perfection.
While in the bosom of Heaven.



Love, Peace & Light  ---Always Rob xoxoxo

22 May 2024

"FAREWELL SISTA"


An Original Collection of Provocative and Powerful Essay's by R. B. STUART. Her Work Begins and Ends at the Crux of Truth, Sorrow and Humor---Capable of Slicing Through Your Psyche and Piercing Your Heart


FAREWELL  
By R. B. STUART
Post Forty-Eight


Nancy Pearl (May 22, 1952 - April 12, 2024) known around Revere, Charlestown, Lynn and Cambridge, MA, as her alter ego, "Pearl," the ever exuberant Karaoke songstress, died at 71 years old in an Arizona Medical Center of multi-organ failure.

A personality bigger than life, with a flair for the dramatics & a lover of holidays, with matching festive garb. Nancy was happy & bold, & partly misunderstood. She loved celebration, family, the ocean, children & her wishes for a convetional life as a wife, mother, with a "white picket fence" fell out of reach.

Always a giver, a friend to the homeless and battered women's causes, she was generous, even if kindness wasn't returned. Others came first. She saw the best in everyone. She lived life with gusto. And dreamed of bigger dreams then she could live, but it never stopped her.

A passionate devotee of Christianty, Nancy dedicated a portion of her life to Bible Study. 

She found her calling in Cosmetology as a Hairdresser and lived a quiet life. In the end, she was surrounded by her Adored brother & first childhood chum, Gary F. of AZ. Protective eldest sister Gail L. of NH. Devoted sister R. B. of CA. Beloved sister Dawn N. of Papua New Guniea. And Cherished baby sister Fran E. of FLA.

Nancy follows her late parents, father Irwin V. of  MA, mother Patricia T. of  NH, late sister Karen J. of MA, late son Alexander C. of MA, and late Aunt Nita M. of FLA.

She leaves behind her niece Jennifer L. of NH. A great neice, nephew and a great-great niece and nephew.

In lieu of flowers please donate to charities for Mental Illness in her Honor: RETHINK MENTAL ILLNESS (Rethink.org) or DEPRESSION & BIPOLAR SUPPORT ALLIANCE (DBSalliance.org).

18 April 2024

"THERAPY WITH MOTHER NATURE"


An Original Collection of Provocative and Powerful Essay's by R. B. STUART. Her Work Begins and Ends at the Crux of Truth, Sorrow and Humor---Capable of Slicing Through Your Psyche and Piercing Your Heart


Reflection 
By R. B. STUART
Post Forty-Seven



"Therapeutic relations with Mother Nature isn't something one thinks of in times of need, sorrow, fear, abandon.

I have had interludes with the rain, a decade long NYC romance with a towering, Central Park Maple tree, laying my bruised Spirit and weary body upon the imbedded centuries of old roots each week. Surrendering my pitiful exsistance, hoping to be absorbed by the earth.

I found healing for a quarter century of grief and sadness with a local pine, and daily therapy sessions with 
a short, lovely lady on my block. I'd whisper my troubles, affirmations and prayers into the veins of her blemish-free hand sized leaves. Thanking her with sweet kisses.  

More humans should take a second look, feel the skin, the ancient bark of those magnificent, wise, peaceful, strong, stoic watchful eyes, scattered along our daily journies.

If one ever needs a trunk to hug, to cry with, a good listener, or a vessel to pour your pain and sorrow, Mother Nature and honing in on a favorite tree is the place to go. 

No pain is too intense, no tears will make them wither, and any fear will be welcomed with steadfastness.

The world is filled with so much confusion and uncertainty these days, the embarrassment of grabbing a tree in your arms is the least of your worries. 

Best of all, they don't judge or charge $300 an hour...."

21 February 2023

"LONELINESS"


An Original Collection of Provocative and Powerful Essay's by R. B. STUART. Her Work Begins and Ends at the Crux of Truth, Sorrow and Humor---Capable of Slicing Through Your Psyche and Piercing Your Heart



Reflection 
By R. B. STUART
Post Forty-Six


Loneliness is a Human Experience. Our Human Bondage.

We were born to be social creatures.

Sometimes a spouse, a child or a pet only temporarily fills the void, serving as a distraction from the pain and suffering that aches deep within.

Some choose greed, money  possessions, permiscuous sex, drugs or alcohol to mask or numb the pain.

When one is alone for great periods of time, without distractions or influences, through those gaps loneliness enters.

It beckons in the still of the night, in the shadows of darkness. You'll know when she has quietly arrived

But, the only way out of loneliness is through the pain, sorrow and suffering. 

Challenging the frightening inner ghost of emotional and psychological turmoil will be the greatest Soul work one does in a lifetime. 

Ultimately loneliness is a Spiritual bankruptcy. The omnipresent emptiness one feels is brought upon by the longing and yearning for a deeper inner---not outer connection---living in a finite world. 

As we hold our hand to grasp a Divine relationship that fulfills our need of understanding, acceptance, unconditional love, joy and completion---we can then begin to feel Whole.

15 January 2023

"NEW YEARS SORROW"


An Original Collection of Provocative and Powerful Essay's by R. B. STUART. Her Work Begins and Ends at the Crux of Truth, Sorrow and Humor---Capable of Slicing Through Your Psyche and Piercing Your Heart


Reflection 
By R. B. STUART
Post Forty-Five



New Years Eve 2023, I found myself needing to walk in the torrential rain. Sailing along the old route taken with Sunday, my beloved doggy, gone three month now.

The mantras & praying led me to weep against a Grey Elder tree, the 50 year old steadfastly & stoically supported my grief. 

In my arms I recounted the past year, the blessings, the security, the protection, culminating in sorrow of what was past.

The rain enveloped me, carrying me home, merging my tears with each droplet falling from the blackened sky. 

My own mother passed in 2002, and now I rest in the bosom of Mother Nature, so strong, powerful and accepting. Ever constant---she'll remain alive well after I'm long gone and forgotten.

I returned home and peeled off my drenched orange slicker, lit the house with candles as incense wafted throughout.

In the flickering light I sipped chilled Amaretto, talked on the phone with my family and nearing midnight, I reached for my doggys favorite sky blue velvet calming blanket. I clutched it to my breast. Pressing the corner against my lips, kissing him as the hands struck midnight. And sang...

"For old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind. Should old acquaintance be forgot, for the sake of auld lang syne.

We two have paddled in the stream, from morning sun till night.
The seas between us Lord and swell, since the days of auld lang syne...."

08 November 2019

"SORROW, DEATH, LOSS"


An Original Collection of Provocative and Powerful Essay's by R. B. STUART. Her Work Begins and Ends at the Crux of Truth, Sorrow and Humor---Capable of Slicing Through Your Psyche and Piercing Your Heart


Reflection 
By R. B. STUART
Post Forty-Four



When my father died I was 6 and mourned for 15 years.

When my sister died I was 27 and wept day and night for 5 years.

Then when my mother died I was 42 and mourned for 1 year.

At different ages in our life, death effects us in ways that open our heart, and ripen us with understanding, compassion and empathy.

On a spiritual level your beautiful beloved can still hear and see you.

Will comfort you by visiting you in your dreams. 

While grieving, talk to them. Light candles daily. Locate a treasured item of theirs and have it available to you.

Smell her favorite perfume, scarf or blouse. 

Frame special moments of them in photos. 

This was your beloved, the pain and loss will pour out of you, and let that river of sorrow run free.

For one day, it will become a beautiful  tranquil pond in your heart as acceptance and understanding takes root.

And the memories will bring you something different and new; warmth, joy, understanding and wisdom.  

That their love footprint will always remain tucked in a crevice of your heart...and you will venture forth in this world creating a new life without them.

Thus is the human experience of life. Open your arms wide and embrace it. 

May Peace Be With You

03 July 2019

"GRACE"


An Original Collection of Provocative and Powerful Essay's by R. B. STUART. Her Work Begins and Ends at the Crux of Truth, Sorrow and Humor---Capable of Slicing Through Your Psyche and Piercing Your Heart


POEM for JER
By R. B. STUART
Post Forty-Three


"I miss your face...kissing it, stroking it, admiring it. Not seeing it I feel so out of place.

I become excited like a puppy when I arrive home from work. Walking past your house with Froggy, I whistle hoping to elicit a brief hug, or a whisper of love through the window, I lurk.

We don't have the typical relationship; Your decrepit mother and my senior dog have a tight grip.

Without speaking at the end of the day, or seeing one another and having dinner each night, nor nestle against the other in bed to sleep tight.

We steal glimpses of each other when we can. Hold hands and sneak a kiss on the run, and a firm squeeze of the bum.

Our love and devotion must be strong enough, to power through the days and nights that don't belong to us.

Hoping, if we survive these limitations, then we'll finally be at home endulging in canoodling and lust. Which leaves them alone to sit in the dust.

But until then my passion, love and desire becomes riddled with anxiety, as I try to contain all the things I want to say with each passing day. 

Clutching the burlap bag slung over my shoulder bulging with everything I needed to share, becomes too heavy, jumbled and too cumbersome to bare.

And it is replaced by frustration, stick notes and texts to myself, of things I wanted to tell you or how I felt.

Pent up...the bag bursts...everything has lost it's importance and momentum as the days click by, resulting in hurts.

Like a scavenger, I swoop up the remnants hoping to weave them together. But alas, there's not enough time when you're in my arms and the world is as light as a feather.

In haste, our communication becomes twisted, anger erupts, and we have flatlined, shucking it all in an overnight case. 

We never know, if we are mighty enough, bonded enough, or tough enough to go with the flow.

Then we're left standing back to back, unable to find the minutes to face one another, gives way to another split and then crack.

Wondering if this time will be the last...Can we recoup, or just become one anothers past.

And like a Weeping Willow, tears dripping from her leaves, a new dawn wakens with much un-cer-tain-ty.

My breast is dewy, my heart throbs with need, my mind wants it all, albeit, ignoring the greed. 

My complicated man does what he can. Striking a chord he sings when he's bored.

The darkened sky settles her broken body into a chair. As he pretends he just doesn't care. 

Casting off the dutiful son, he slips into a long legged, strapping man and inches his way back, towards folly and fun.

His pretty baby forgets she's a lady. Dissapaiting the confusion, he dives deep into my waters dropping the anchor, recessitating our fusion. 

Only a handful of hours and you've planted the seed. The clock captures your Soul and I must let you leave. 

Back into her house, you'll walk as tenderly as a mouse. A few verbal jabs, she spars, and reduces my Viking to a louse.

I offer up Grace, my Lover betwixt marking his space. 

His mind boiled and bruised, she ignites a short fuse. The holes in his screen cloakes the morning blues.

The smoke dissapates, any anger and hate. Hours spent wallowing in and out of fate.

His heart wanders to the longing of my sweet nectar. Pollinating our honey, it is he who wins the trifecta."



--R. B. STUART
Copyright 2 July 2019
Santa Monica

02 March 2019

"LET IT GO"


An Original Collection of Provocative and Powerful Essay's by R. B. STUART. Her Work Begins and Ends at the Crux of Truth, Sorrow and Humor---Capable of Slicing Through Your Psyche and Piercing Your Heart


POEM for JER
By R. B. STUART
Post Forty-Two



"I need your love.

I was certain you were sent from above.

I haven't kissed your lips in 5 days.

Without that sweetness I feel in a haze.

Your toasty warm body pressed to mine.

The hours click by as we escape time.

Your handsome face rests in my palm.

The soothing comfort brings you inner calm.

It's been a rough road for us, the squeals, the bumps and the turns.  

Twisting our words as our stomachs churn.

But in order for me to have your loving coo's burnt in my ear. 

Your crumpled fingers tangled in my hair.

When it's too much for my heart to bare.

Constricting the music that escapes from your Soul.

I must forgive you....and just let it go."



--R.B.S.
Copyright, February 2019

04 December 2018

"ODE TO JOEL"



An Original Collection of Provocative and Powerful Essay's by R. B. STUART. Her Work Begins and Ends at the Crux of Truth, Sorrow and Humor---Capable of Slicing Through Your Psyche and Piercing Your Heart


POEM for JER
By R. B. STUART
Post Forty-One



"You are the King to my Queen.

The air to a breath.

A quill to a pen.

A prayer to Amen. 

The mountain to a peak.

Oh how I love to hear you speak.

You are the cream to my milk.

A worm to silk.

The green to a tree.

The salt to the sea.

The heat to the sun.

The strength in my legs when I run.
       

You are the song that I sing.

The gold to a ring.

The lion to his mane.

The water to the rain.

The face when you came.

Without you, life wouldn't be the same. 

You are my Honey to a bee.

A kiss making me weak in the knee.

The blue to the sky.

A tear clouding an eye.

A light to a socket.

Without change, I wouldn't be in your pocket. 

You are the candle to my flame.

Lobsters to Maine.

The beat to a heart.

The brain and your being so smart.

The ocean to the sand.

The clutch of your hand
bending me to your command.

You are the wings to my Dove.

The tender feelings of love.

The mist to a fog.

The bark to a dog.

The fagrance to June.

The light to the moon that will guide you back home to me...very soon."



 --R.B.S.

Copyright, December 2018


13 August 2017

“I SEE YOU”


An Original Collection of Provocative and Powerful Essay's by R. B. STUART. Her Work Begins and Ends at the Crux of Truth, Sorrow and Humor---Capable of Slicing Through Your Psyche and Piercing Your Heart


POEM for MVP
By R. B. STUART
Post Forty



"Tuck your shoes away as you tip-toe through my mind,   

Your smile as glaring as the sun--I fear I may go blind.  

   From the time you wake,  

Your chocolate gaze lingers as sweet as cake. 

   The curls sprout from your peppered mane, 

Like a lions courage captured in a frame.   

   Longing to map the lines of your face with the palm of my hands,  

So that I can feel if your love is buried in faraway lands.  

   The salty wisp of sweat from your brow,  

Entices my palate if only you knew how.        

   The crisp melody of your voice, 

Erects a certainty of choice.  

   The autumn glow of your skin, covers like a warm blanket, 

Eliciting dew, after I drank it.   

   Your hearing attuned to my silent tears, 

Suspended by time, and the anguish of years.  

   The power that beats from your chest, 

Is marked with stripes on your forgotten crest. 

   Your fathers honor is etched within your hands, 

Strong and steady---you’re branded an honest man. 

    With each step you walk down the same road,

Resting upon your broad shoulders remains a heavy load.  

    It was once innocent, that fragile, hopeful mind, 

But longing eroded the mist of possibilities over time.  

   Searching for that unexpected second chance, 

To remove all the obstacles and just be lost in dance. 

   After the weeds are uprooted--caution drips away, 

Your dreams sprout in the fertile soil, of a new day. 

   Open your arms far and wide,  

There’s a bounty to harvest that’s been growing deep inside."



12 August  2017                                                                                                                 
Sherman Oaks, Ca.                                                                                                        ---R. B. STUART 

25 July 2017

“Melancholy Baby”

                                                 

An Original Collection of Provocative and Powerful Essay's by R. B. STUART. Her Work Begins and Ends at the Crux of Truth, Sorrow and Humor---Capable of Slicing Through Your Psyche and Piercing Your Heart


POEM for MVP
By R. B. STUART
Post Thirty-Nine


     "Your face haunted me from the very beginning,

A wisp of your eyes forever lingering.

     Life was the Nile that kept us apart,

Death was the mule bringing us together by cart.  

     Your strong clutch had the warmth of home tucked in its grip,

I panted as tasting your kisses…tugged at my lip.    

     Through the hours, the days I listened to the melody of your voice,

You remained perplexed, and saddled by choice.  

     As the notes of Sinatra tip toed across the bass,  

I waited for your arm to twirl me to outer space.   

     I fed you from my hand, my mind, my heart,

But your conflict rested, on the weary tree tops.  

     While your mind riddled with thoughts of love,

I coaxed your arms open for a deep seated hug.   

     A moan, a groan bellowed from your chest,

As my face hooked, on the nape of your neck.

     The manliness wafted throughout my senses,

Stopped you from moving, past the fences.

     Your judgment clouded by an awkward goodbye,

Ended on the pavement, at your door with a short drive.   

     I beckoned forty years to capture us within,      

But fear claimed space first…and bound it with sin.

     Casting an uncertain dye across the sky,

Gray clouds broke the blue heavens apart,

     The laughter, and joy seemed to banish from our heart.

If that orange tree had room for two,  

     Climbing together we’d both see the view.

If each day I could tell you how good you are,

     You still couldn’t hear me as your mind has wandered, much too far.  

My name no longer lingers in your ear,

     Consumed by caution what I say isn’t clear.

The words are suspended but you won’t let them out,

     Percolating through crevices they are drowning in doubt.          
A fog of grief has engulfed my pain,

     When I opened my eyes…nothing was the same.

Father Time is accelerating much too fast,

     Already recent memories are part of the past.  

I raised my head from the crib, and found myself 20 overnight,

     I turned my head to the left…and found my life drifting, out of sight.

I fear as I lower my head to a pillow…and turn to the right,

     My life may be complete…and I lost the chance for the love of my life."     


  ©  COPYRIGHT 2017 All Rights Reserved. No Reproduction Without Permission. STUART ROAD MEDIA GROUP


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15 January 2016

“Speaking Deutsch with Donny Deutsch”



An Original Collection of Provocative and Powerful Essay's by R. B. STUART. Her Work Begins and Ends at the Crux of Truth, Sorrow and Humor---Capable of Slicing Through Your Psyche and Piercing Your Heart.


BY R. B. STUART
Post Thirty-Eight
Original Interview from 2009 



International ad man (and proclaimed ‘great dancer’), Donny Deutsch morphed into a rapid fire orator, author, Indy film producer and acclaimed talk show host of CNBC’s, “The Big Idea with Donny Deutsch.” Deutsch appeared on the celebrity scene with the debut of his television show by interviewing America's most influential entrepreneurs and business titans. It spawned a new book in January 2009, “THE BIG IDEA: How to Make Your Entrepreneurial Dreams Come True from the AHA Moment to Your First Million.”

 
His life, packed with as many projects as his punchy, straight talking purr---is orchestrated by three assistants from his massive 14th floor, 130,000 sq/ft. Manhattan headquarters, where Deutsch sits as Chairman of Deutsch Inc. As they celebrate their 40th anniversary, the roster of prestigious clients include; Johnson & Johnson, Anheuser-Busch, InBev, DIRECTV, Kodak and IKEA.  

 
The highly secured ad agency saddles two coasts. Since 1999 the West Side Chelsea location has housed a portion of the 1,000 employees, where most dressed in jeans, glide across concrete floors on silver scooters. With terraces wrapping around nearly all four corners of the space, you’re greeted by a receptionist overshadowed by a mammoth brushed steel counter---the DEUTSCH brand illuminated and etched on its façade.
 

The receptionist’s overhead pages echo throughout the exposed HVAC and metal piped ceilings like an airport terminal. The windows of this open, raw design, frames a panoramic view of the city bustling below. Deutsch’s office, no more stately than the other executives, overflows into a private conference room. It’s the epitome of transparency---with the third wall made of glass. And only steps away from Deutsch Commons, a sunken loft size room with a pool table, ping pong, and arcade games where employees gather for lunch, meetings or parties.
 

Deutsch, an impeccably dressed Wharton School graduate favors suits by Tom Ford, wears this day, a pair of jeans with a custom Alfred Dunhill shirt made by Bruno. A Vintage Rolex strapped to one wrist, and beaded, string bracelets on the other. A blend of Bohemia meets affluence for this laid back Queens native whose motto is, “If you want to be successful, surround yourself with people who are smarter than you.” 

 
His father David Deutsch an advertising veteran, began Deutsch Associates in 1969. His tough love approach helped shape his son, at one point firing him and saying, ‘Get the hell out of here and find something you’re passionate about.’ That catapulted him to become a lawyer. Then at 26 years-old Donny forfeited law school to intercept the sale
 

of his fathers company. Over an 18 year period the once identity seeking Deutsch fell in love with advertising, and turned it into a thriving 2.5 billion dollar agency. By  implementing his personal, “leaner, meaner, faster, smarter” philosophy, he transformed the small advertising shop into a five time award winning top 10 agency, which begot 300 million dollars in 2000 when they sold the company.
 

With Donny remaining at the helm, his father advised him early on, ‘do what you love.’ And he continues to….no matter what the occupation. “My father probably had more influence on me than anybody,” Deutsch admitted. “He taught me values as a man and as a business man. And has been a tremendous influence on me as a teacher and mentor. We’re very different in a lot of ways---but also very similar in our overall values.”      

 
In 2004 Deutsch stepped in front of the camera for CNBC and hasn’t looked back. “I tell people if you sell something you have to be prepared to let it go.” So instead, he’s no longer jolted in the middle of the night about ad campaigns but a show idea. “The Big Idea” provides the right amount of inspiration and intuition necessary, to nudge an entrepreneur with a new patent into the marketplace. Deutsch is the motivational catalyst to many peoples ideas and dreams. “One of the greatest thrills I’ve had is when someone comes up to me or sends me a letter and says, ‘I started my business because of the show. It motivated me.’ What a privilege it is to be part of something that literally inspires people and effects their lives,” he conceded. “I don’t think you can hope for anything more in any endeavor particularly in television. I’m very fortunate to be part of that.”   
 

Although his show is currently on hiatus, Deutsch can be seen guest anchoring on CNBC’s “Reports” and “Power Lunch,” with regular appearances on NBC’s “TODAY Show.” As the economy sabotages peoples dreams, they’re less likely to risk capitol on new ventures. But Deutsch says, “The counterintuitive answer is now is actually a good time…if you’ve lost your job or may lose it. Out of the depression a lot of new businesses were started. Because of adversity comes the necessity for new thinking, the models broken so there’s opportunity. We will invent and build our way out of this.”         

 
Deutsch never dreamed his life would unfold as it has, but he always knew he’d be successful. “I felt I had certain gifts, abilities and always believed in myself and owe that to my parents,” he reflects. (He quickly reaches to extinguish his cell phone ring tone of “Alvin and the Chipmunks.”) Now I look back and say wow, I’ve been pretty lucky.”
 

The Deutsch brand he explained, “Has always been about empowerment, rugged individualistic achievement in terms of going for your dreams and breaking some rules along the way. So I kind of apply the same ethos to everything I do. And I get a kick out of that I’m able to motivate and inspire people.” His trademark candor, bold and funny style has translated well to print, penning his first business motivation book in 2005.  

 
 
While he has become a brand he isn’t thwarted by it. “You can argue it…a good brand is not for everyone. But there is a core of set values (clearly defined) and if you’re in touch with your value system and stay true to those, I don’t think there’s a downside,” Deutsch remarked.

 
Whether at his Park Avenue apartment or East Hampton home, when he has downtime Deutsch loves being with his girls. “It’s clearly my favorite thing. Second place would be out to dinner with friends. They’re the greatest therapy. Sitting two hours with people you enjoy….laughing and having a drink. I find that a real joy.”

 
As a father of three daughters, “I so enjoy being a Dad---I love it,” Deutsch beamed. “I call it little people management. Managing is all about empathy and trying to understand the needs of the other person. Kids are very simple, they thrive on tons of love, structure, safety and fun. It comes natural to me because I had a great teacher, my father. On a scale of 1 to 10 he’s 100.” His father, now 80 years-old. “Is my greatest supporter, a fantastic artist and sharp as a tack. I should be like him at 80.”

 
The best aspect of being Donny Deutsch he says is, “If you’re lucky enough to achieve a level of stature, ascertain some money and notoriety---there’s tremendous access and opportunities that comes with that.” But he doesn’t rest on his laurels, Deutsch serves on the Executive Committee of University of Pennsylvania's School of Social Policy & Practice, and the Board of Directors for the Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinson's Research.

 
In 1992 he tasted politics for the first time as the lead member of the Clinton/Gore communications team. It sparked rumor of Deutsch running for NYC mayor, but he scoffed, “I’ve talked about it but I don’t think I can…I’m a little too crazy---nothing horrible---just a lot of women---nothing that’s not fun.” (He is single and twice divorced, his manager sitting in rolled her eyes at his candor.) “What are you rolling your eyes at it’s no secret,” he jested. “In France it would be a political platform.”

 
He noted, “Amongst my many weaknesses, my biggest strength is public speaking. I find I’m able to inspire people and am very lucky it’s a gift I have. Hopefully in 10 – 20 years I’ll be utilizing it whether in philanthropy, on the media side or business, somehow they’ll understand it and be enthralled by it.”

 
In the coming years Deutsch says we as a society have to start looking at ourselves in a different way. “And start behaving differently whether it’s not being gluttonous consumers to not trying to kick the worlds ass anymore and play nicer. We’re going through a change as a society---finding where we fit, in the world.”



©  COPYRIGHT 2016 All Rights Reserved. No Reproduction Without Permission. STUART ROAD MEDIA
 

 
Page copy protected against web site content infringement by Copyscape

09 December 2015

"When Your Word is the Sword"

                            Poisonous Angel Trumpets

An Original Collection of Provocative and Powerful Essay's by R. B. STUART. Her Work Begins and Ends at the Crux of Truth, Sorrow and Humor---Capable of Slicing Through Your Psyche and Piercing Your Heart.


BY R. B. STUART
Post Thirty-Seven
                          


It’s simple to have sarcastic banter and humorous discourse without the use of derogatory words. I’ve had my share of name-calling in junior high, that continued periodically in the streets of New York, usually by adult men, whom felt the only way to feel powerful was to call me a fat bitch, ugly bitch, or whore. Those words aren’t on the tip of my psyche when having a verbal altercation with a stranger, but the playing field changes when they go there first. I never hone in on a particular body image or defect; weight, height, or baldness, instead I’ll hit him where he’s the most covered and insecure---in the loins. A montage of carefully selected words may lynch the backbone of his manhood. 
 
In L. A. the insults even come from women…usually Latino. Last week a girl approached me one night with her Pit Bull when I was walking my Poodle and was offended when I slid out into the street so she could pass by. She defended her dog, who was angling towards us, as sweet and just wanted to play, adding his Rolodex of Pomeranian friends. I conveyed that mine was Alpha and aggressive, and began to growl in unison of my remark. Her Pit undeterred stretched closer. I remarked that I wasn’t interested in them meeting since mine would ultimately be the looser if he nipped at hers, it would provoke a fight and I’d be holding an empty leash.
 
She retorted with my dogs need for socialization as I plodded along the darkened boulevard. Then announced, “Go eat a cheeseburger bitch.”
 
I was aghast, “Oh gawd…California is nothing but assholes. You wouldn’t be talking that way to people if you didn’t have a Pit Bull at your side.”
 
“You’re the asshole bitch…go eat a cheeseburger,” she cockily repeated trying to tighten the grip on her muscular white and brown carnivore who was becoming agitated.     
 
Over the summer I confronted a woman about picking up her dogs poop from my yard [it is the norm in L. A. to not pick-up after your dog no matter how small the turd. The latest trend is allowing them to defecate on the sidewalk and simply leave it. Yes, L.A.ers are a filthy bunch.]
 
She professed a verbal assault, “This is public property you dumb bitch. You’re mental go take your meds bitch.”
 
Unfortunately without red property lines inking the ground she couldn’t differentiate between public and private property. Maybe she was referring to Woody Guthrie’s folk song, “This land is your land, this land is my land. From California to the New York island. This land was made for you and me.”   
 
As a celebrity you're accustomed to haters via Internet comments....and we know how hurtful it can be. But what about those who 'read' people in their personal life---push people’s buttons---family and friends? It appears like hating---but is it human nature to pick people apart, expose their neurosis, or "issues," to their face and/or behind their back?  
 
Is speaking the truth a character flaw, or is it human nature to criticize? How does one dull a sharp tongue? Being a stand-up comic is the only profession in which cutting wit and sarcasm is cultivated and praised.
  
Like the venom of a rabid animal it seethes just below the surface on reality TV.
 
Realistically, we are aware no one is perfect---but when others are less than perfect our gripes feel justified because we observe a personality or character flaw in another---how do you suspend the words from traveling up your gullet and spewing a mouth full of razor like verbiage. We know it can cause long held rifts between people---but once you have the capability to "read" people---how do you turn off the spigot and shut your mouth. It’s like someone sitting down at a crystal ball for a reading…and instead of gently taking their hand stroking their palm---you sever a vein. It’s a psychological wound in which they’ll never forget the time or place….or who the avenger was. Words are the truth tellers amulet of poison.
 
Even Donald Trump laments about aggressive haters, but then like quicksilver uses his trumpet calling Marc Cuban an asshole on Twitter. And in 2015 at the Academy Awards found disapproval with co-presenter, 80 year old, 1950’s Alfred Hitchcock muse, Kim Novak, whose face had transformed from Botox and surgeries.
 
Equally so, Trump has taken endless jabs about his hair resembling a toupee, unflattering orange spray tan, mannerisms and overall appearance. And I must admit that I am amused by Trumps unabashed outspokenness …as it reminds me of my own foibles sans gender, money, or influence.
 
But why would Trump, who has the highest of standards in building and design, as well as personal and professional integrity---lower himself to take swipes at other celebs or politicians? Novak admitted to her devastation from his public humiliation that resulted in not leaving home for three days.
 
Society at large is murky with the spontaneous combustion of castrating someone else’s ego, or dissecting their physical attributes---it’s akin to frosted donut holes and a latté.
 
Then again there are haters who use social media as their platform for public ridicule, slander, bullying, or racism twisting a joyful event into a civil rights movement. As with a vicious tweet to Oprah on National Pet Day, as she celebrated lovingly with a video of giving her dogs treats.
 
This army of invisible, ignorant, Internet imbeciles post and tweet without fear of retribution. If the government can’t protect us from Terrorists posing as Tourists, then how will they police millions of pages of script littering our information superhighway?
 
It appears the human race is under attack from a multitude of nemeses; terror attacks, verbal attacks, racial attacks, financial attacks, environmental attack, religious attack, sexual attack, heart attacks…
 
Has the speed of time made this world so raw and unfiltered that one must wear a suit of armor before turning on the news, and sling a shield over your breast before walking out the door…or is it merely the fallout from being truthful, and having the electronic means to spread our freedom of speech---no matter how painful or evil---that we will die, kill or lie for it. Maybe Jesus meant; Live by the Word. Die by the Sword….    


 
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