The Most Horrifying Movie I’ve Seen


Last night I watched this movie.

To see the projecting that Amy did on Nick was horrifying. I stopped the movie several times to regain my composure. It cut that close to my own memory.

Amy’s gaslighting is what did that marriage in. Her mental abuse destroyed Nick. Their job loss and relocation was no excuse to kill the relationship.

Borderline Personality Disorder is a terrible mental disease. To watch this movie frames my own experience of it in a way I hadn’t seen before.

Never again.

Thin Blue Line


For the past two weeks, on two different fronts, we have been confronted with the unpleasant fact that there are people working in the institutions of our self-government who believe themselves not only beyond the control and sanctions of the civil power, but also beyond the control and sanctions of their direct superiors. We also have been confronted with the fact that there are too many people in our political elite who are encouraging this behavior for their own purposes, most of which are cheap and dangerous. In Washington, John Brennan, the head of the CIA, came right up to the edge of insubordination against the president who hired him in the wake of the Senate report on American torture. Meanwhile, in New York, in the aftermath of weeks of protests against the strangulation of Eric Garner by members of the New York Police Department, two patrolmen, Wenjian Liu and Rafael Ramos, were murdered in their squad car by a career criminal and apparent maniac named Ismaaiyl Brinsley. In response, and at the encouragement of television hucksters like Joe Scarborough, police union blowhards like Patrick Lynch, political zombies like George Pataki, and comical fascists like Rudolph Giuliani, the NYPD is acting in open rebellion against Mayor Bill de Blasio of New York, and the civil power he represents over them. This is an incredibly perilous time for democracy at the most basic levels.

Ed Kilgore – Washington Monthly

Burn this Bitch Down


I have completely lost confidence in the criminal justice system after this latest travesty.

Cop violates protocol and strangles Eric Garner. It’s caught on video. Coroner rules it a homicide. Grand Jury fails to indict.

I have much to write about my personal experiences with “law enforcement”. It’s damming.

I’m sick and tired of running across pussy cops hiding behind their badges, their tactical gear, their attitude and their gun. Time to start doing something about it.

Cops need oversight. The police unions are shielding bad cops. We need to root them out so the good cops can do their job. So we can trust them once again.

End of a Season


Baseball season ended last month for Douglas. I am humbled by the amount of work he put in.

He was the Shortstop and Team Captain on four different teams: the Atascadero Reds, the Atascadero Little League Travel Team, the Atascadero Little League All-Stars and the Atascadero Rivercats.

He attended 72 practices and scrimmages.

He played in 59 games.

Along the way he made a lot of new friends. All great players and kids.

Doug’s sports success is not indicative of what kind of parent I am. Having an athlete who is coachable, a great teammate, mentally tough, puts the work in, tries their best and brings joy to the game is what matters.

We’re both looking forward to Opening Day next Spring.

Stop Writing About Me


November 11th was like most days for me. Late afternoon and I needed a break from the home office before I started dinner for the kids. I walked to the Santa Margarita Tavern and sat down in front of a beer.

A couple walks in. I recognize the guy as a fellow Little League parent from Douglas’s baseball team. We say hi to each other as they sat down at a table in the back corner.

A  few minutes later I turned around and looked over. I recognize the women sitting with him.

It was Karen Velie.

They were engrossed in discussion over a document, reviewing it page-by-page. I wanted to talk to Karen, but I didn’t want to interrupt their business. After 10 minutes, when it appeared they were done, I approached their table.

(In the interest of privacy, the guy’s identity is changed to John.)

Me: John, can you excuse us for a few minutes as I would like to talk with Karen.

Karen: I don’t want to talk to you.

Me: All I ask is a few minutes of your time Karen.

Karen: I don’t want to talk to you. Stop writing about me.

John: Kenny, I don’t want to get in the middle of this.

Me: John, that’s why I asked you to excuse yourself. So that you’re not involved in this.

Karen: Stop writing about me.

John: Do you want me to call the Sheriff?

Me: John, have I committed a crime?

John (pulling his cell phone out): Do you want me to call the Sheriff? Do you want to talk to them?

Me: Karen, why haven’t you called me back? You promised you would?

Karen: Stop writing about me.

With that said, I excused myself, left the establishment and walked home.

I’m Back


Been a long time since this site was up. Last Spring Alex asked me to take it down.

I now know that was shorthand for “she didn’t like me anymore”. I didn’t need to take my blog down. It was a mistake to listen to Alex.

I got lots to talk about. Stay tuned.



One day in May 1994 I came home from my first day at Dick’s Sporting Goods, loosened my tie and opened a celebratory beer. It was early evening and the day’s sun was setting, sending rays of orange light onto my back deck. My wife was pregnant with our first child. We had settled into our 10-acre homestead the previous year. Life was good and it was as happy as an afternoon as I would ever have.


This morning I woke up in my bed, in a house that I didn’t own. It was chilly because we turn the thermostat off to save money. My phone beeped, alerting me to an email alert from my bank stating that my account balance had dropped below $100. I have no savings, having lost it all in my wife’s fight with cancer, her death and three subsequent years of unemployment. And I ask myself – “Well, how did I get here?” I have never been arrested. I am not an alcoholic. I smoked a little weed in college thirty years ago, haven’t touched it since. But I have committed one of the most basic sins in America. I had failed. I lost everything I worked for – the houses, cars, the 401k, motorcycles and vacations. All gone. And nearly my sanity. Yet I am not alone. Since 2008 over five million families lost their homes to foreclosure. Real wages have declined since the Reagan administration. Millions of people have stopped looking for work. In America the Walton family holds as much wealth as the bottom 40%. Worldwide, 85 people hold as much wealth as the bottom 50%. The top 1% continue to accumulate wealth, at the expense of the rest of us. But this isn’t a story about them. This is about me. My failure was all the harder because I had my dream job.


Back in 1994 Dick’s Sporting Goods had a vision. I was a part of it, and it was captivating. The eight years I spent there were exhilarating. The Company went through two rounds of re-capitalization, going through several periods of comp sales decreases. I struggled to keep the vendor community engaged. I learned how to engage and motivate our customers. I learned how to build an assortment, how to price & promote, how to market, how to launch a label, how to turn goods, how to maximize margin mix, how to develop product lines. We punched the chain out to 132 doors. I was managing a $70+ million division. I loved what I was doing. When the scooter fad hit in 2001 I jumped all over it. I picked up a quick three million dollars in sales. I killed my bonus plan that year. Because we were in a pre-IPO my GMM baked the scooter numbers into my plan for 2002. I vehemently argued with him, it was only a fad and thus not sustainable. He kept it in the plan. We go into 2002, the scooter business withered. Gone, empty, you couldn’t give the crap away. I managed our receipt flow, not getting caught with inventory. What else could you do? I was going to miss my plan by millions. I had always made my numbers. I was Buyer of the Year, Member of the President’s Buyer Council. For five days a week, eight years I left for work before dawn and returned home after dark. I was The Company Guy, a Salaryman. I was lucky to see my kids before they were tucked into bed on weekdays. I was worn down by the three-hour daily commutes, the 10-hour workdays, the weekend travel to stores every month, the relentless trade show and buying trips. I was missing a big part of my Girls growing up. My wife’s BPD wasn’t helping matters, she was starting to push my kids away from me. It had gotten out of my control, the long workdays, the fucked-up work/life balance, the unattainable plan. The dynamic that existed was that I was going to do the same job year after year, only do more of it and do it faster. My Dream Job became hell. I had to make a change.


It all started innocuously. I grew up not having any career aspirations, just coasted in high school. I had joined the Out Spoken Wheelmen, a local bike club and where I met Arni Nashbar. One day in May 1977 Arni offered me a job. My first paycheck was $14.00 – 7 hours @ $2.00/hour. I was riding a lot and getting some results. Work was fun – taking telephone orders and answering customer questions, orders to pick in the warehouse, mail orders to process, deliveries to be unloaded, shelves to be stocked, retail customers to be waited on, custom bikes to be built, frames to be prepped. I’d go in on Saturday mornings to catch up on the order backlog. But something was missing. I realized that there were better things than being a warehouse/retail clerk. I enrolled at Youngstown State University. No one in my family had attended college. I thought I wouldn’t be able to cut it, having just gotten by in high school. I worried how I was going to pay for tuition. One day I was over an engineer’s house. He was a professor at the university and rode a lot with the club. He was building wheels on the side for Bike Nashbar. I asked him if he could teach me how to build. I found out I was real good at it. And it helped put me through school. I spent the next six years working from 8:00 – 4:30, then going to classes from 5:40 until 9:30 every weekday. Five days a week, for six years. One night a week I would build wheels from 10:00 until 2 or 3 in the morning. Saturdays was all wheels, I’d build non-stop from 7:00 in the morning until 11:00 at night. Sundays became the only time I could ride. Running after hours was how I could kept in shape during the week. One dark evening while I was flying down a trail, I stepped into a hole and went flying. I broke both my arms trying to break the fall. It turned out to be, literally and figuratively, the luckiest break in my life. With both arms in a cast I couldn’t work in the warehouse. Arni sat me at desk to try some buying. It turned out I had a proclivity for it, this I started my career as a merchant. I graduated with Honors, earning a perfect 4.0 in my Finance major. I quit building wheels to focus on the Company and my new marriage. I began to drive it at work. Having learned how to capitalize and budget, I began to develop plans for sales, turns and margin and steered dollars into high-growth categories. One of the special projects I took on was designing a conveyor-based warehouse picking system and supervising the installation of the conveyors, gravity racks, pallet racking and shelving. When it came time to commit to ordering the fixtures I made an executive decision because my Boss wouldn’t commit. I nearly got fired over it. Karen, our Controller, saved my ass. All turned out well though, we made our deadline and moved into our new warehouse. That system is still in use today. I pushed the hard lines business to over $20 million dollars. I learned to put together a line of bikes, first in Japan, then into Taiwan and finally China. I travelled overseas regularly, developing and sourcing product. I built much of the content in the catalog. It was a lot of work but fun too. And I enjoyed the people I worked with. I put together a 5-year business plan for pre-built engineered wheels, years ahead of Mavic. It showed we would have made a profit by the second year of operation. Arni seemed OK with it but Jerry, the VP, nixed it. Jerry wanted his little brother to have the work. I was frustrated, at a dead end. It was the last straw for me. There was no room in the Company to move up, no room for my ideas. In the spring of 1994 I decided to look for another job. Two months afterwards I found the position at Dicks Sporting Goods.


Eight years of working at Dick’s burned me out. I took a sabbatical and backpacked the lower half of the Appalachian Trail. I returned, energized and ready for the next challenge. People told me that leaving your job before getting a new one was tantamount to career suicide. It seemed everyone in the industry loved me, so I didn’t give it a second thought. I started making some call, soon finding out no one was returning my calls. Panic. I sent out hundreds of Resumes. I’d spend hours on each cover letter making sure it matched the job requirements of the position. I logged every call I made, every email and letter I sent, every contact made. I called everyone I knew, asking if they knew anything open. I had telephone interviews with dozens of companies. I landed eleven interviews. Some of them went pretty well, so I thought. No one made an offer, after a year of searching. I was running out of savings. And I had a family to support.


My family business was a sleepy, little bait and tackle store. One day I had an epiphany. To develop a store concept, get some capitalization, and roll it out to more locations? So I decided to spend time on the family business. I repositioned the store as a premium Archery destination. I changed the merchandise mix to reflect our new demographic target. I remodeled the store and installed a modern POS system. The results were very encouraging. Sales nearly double in the first year, and were ramping up for another big gain the following year. Mom had been running the business under the guise of a sole proprietorship. I drafted up Articles of Incorporation for a LLC that allowed her to draw a monthly rental income off the real estate that was higher than her personal draw. We would be able to expense that out too. And I would have collateral to get bank financing for expansion. My store concept was working and I wanted to roll it out to more locations. I needed to get the LLC finalized. Mom wouldn’t sign the papers. She couldn’t find it in her to personally let go of the business. She had worked very hard her entire life and she couldn’t bear herself to sign the stock warrants over to me. I underestimated how hard this was for her. And I didn’t have the courage to help her confront those fears. Reality came crashing down. My dream of wanting to work for myself crumbled. I resigned myself to re-entering the job market. At the same time I was concerned about the quality of life, the lack of outdoor activities, the lousy weather, the political corruption of the Mafia in Youngstown, the lack of opportunity. There were a few places I wanted to live – Colorado, Seattle and the Central Coast of California were places I dreamed about. I researched companies that were located there and I picked up the phone.


Copeland Sports had a good reputation in the Sporting Goods as a premium merchant. I cold-called them to ask for a job, a long-shot but why not? I asked for their GMM and was transferred to her. I told her who I was, why I was calling and asked if “you can use someone like myself”. Long story short, several months later I negotiated a compensation package and began preparing for my family’s move. I was finally moving to California! We travelled across the country on Amtrak in a private sleeper cabin. It was a luxurious 3-day trip where the kids got to experience the size and beauty of our country. One time we were sitting in the viewing car with other passengers, gazing out at the Rocky Mountains, when Douglas suddenly pointed out the window and shouted “Cantaloupe! Cantaloupe!” There were no cantaloupes to be seen. He had spotted a herd of antelope. Everyone in the car laughed. Good times. The company had checked out well during my research. They had a great reputation within the vendor community. My vendors told me Copeland’s always paid on time. Their store concept looked good, putting seven distinct “stores” within one roof. My new office was in downtown San Luis Obispo, CA. The happiest place on earth, as Forbes Magazine would call it. After spending the first morning filling out routine paperwork, I sat down at my new desk and started to look into my areas. When I sat down with a pencil and paper and calculated the inventory turn, I came up with 2.18. I didn’t believe it. I ran it again on a cost basis. It was accurate. At the margins we were making, that turn meant the Company could not afford to replenish their inventory on a profitable basis. The run rate was unsustainable. When I got home that evening I remarked to my wife “I think I made a mistake”. That wasn’t the worst of it though. The Company was being run on an ancient Wang VX-1200 mainframe. It was stepping back in time twenty five years, to my Fortran days at YSU. They would generate reports and send the jobs to a spooler to be printed on 158-column green bar paper. The worst was seeing my colleagues spend hours a day transposing numbers from hard copies into Excel spreadsheets for analysis. No one there had thought of simply taking the txt files directly from the spooler, zapping the file with a text editor, and importing directly into a worksheet. Everyone’s mind exploded when I showed them that. The prior year the Company got an injection of $20 million from a VP firm based in New York City. With it they installed their guy at CEO, Joe Fernandez. He was a real piece. Expensed his manicures. Palatial office space with the buyers crammed into cubicles. An ego as large as Trump, a walking dictionary of corporate-speak. You know the type, but I’m digressing here. The company had spent all of the money the previous year buying inventory. The buyers went nuts, filling the stores up. None of it went into IT investment. Copeland’s had a great year selling the new receipts, posting impressive comp gains. When it came time to replenish, well, that’s where things got interesting. That buying binge masked a lot of terrible buying mistakes. Unsaleable inventory was accumulating in the stores. I had taken over a couple of divisions. The Golf business was a mix of 40,000+ SKUs. The Company’s policy was to print a full price ticket for each item, with an internally generated upc. It was retarded because the system had the capacity to map manufacturer UPCs into the register POS system, negating the need and expense of printing new stickers. But no one had implemented this. Less than 50 golf items had their manufacturer UPC scanned in! Bikes was worse. Goods would get rung out under the wrong code; i.e., I’d bring in an assortment of drivers across a size run per door. A customer would walk up to the cashier with a Calloway Big Bertha – medium flex, 9° loft, righthand. The cashier would manually enter it as a stiff, 10º righthand club because the Copeland’s sticker was mis-labeled, lost or un-readable. My Rebuyer would bring in more goods in accordance with the sell throughs. The store would end up with TWO stiff 10º righthand clubs and NO medium 9º righthand clubs. This nightmare played out like this with every item, every store, every department. The stores were what I called OB² – Over Bought and Out of Business. On my first trip to one of our Las Vegas stores I walked into an empty rack of BMX bikes. Zero on-hand, inventory showed 60+. Why didn’t anyone at the store call me? I pulled past audits but didn’t get anywhere – their last pre-fiscal inventory had the numbers showing, no one could tell me what happened to 60 bikes. The store and hardwoods manager maintained they never had those bikes. Yet no one bothered to pick up the phone and say “um, we have no BMX bikes here”. It just wasn’t part of their culture. No wonder the store wasn’t making plan. They didn’t have the right product allocated. The last straw for me was when I picked up the phone one day and Dennis, our VP of Store Operations, was on the other end going off on me. He was a real piece, the most sadistic manager I’ve ever run across in my career.It turned out that day the store he was in was out of business in swim goggles. The system showed hundreds in stock. He didn’t care, unleashing a profane tirade, saying it was my fault and how badly I failed him. Him. When your IT is so fucked up no, it’s not my problem. It’s Joe’s. We just completed reconciling a fiscal inventory. The overall shrink was a bit high at 4%. But the over/under was huge. I mean, just huge. My second Dream Job was falling apart. There was nothing I could do to help them anymore. I resigned a year into it to go work for VAS. Eighteen months after I left, Copeland’s declared Chapter 7.


VAS was a case study. It was the industry leader in action sports video. Staffed by some incredibly talented people, all with big hearts. We were carving out new territory and I was stoked to be a part of it. They had this interesting dynamic of operating underneath a VC investment group. The VCs were removed from the realities of our marketplace; e.g., wolves in a henhouse. Every few months the principal would randomly swoop in from his NYC home and completely disrupt our business strategy/platform. It was a Monday morning, November 5, 2007. Michael, the VC Managing Principal, had flown in from NYC the previous day. George, the President, called me into his office and fired me. George also fired the Creative Director and several other people. Then Michael fired George after he did Mike’s dirty work. None of us had no clue this was going to happen, no idea this was coming down. Not even George. Heck, we just closed October out, our first-ever million dollar month. We were doing great. I was told that there was a change in the business model and that I was no longer a part of that. Eighteen months after I was fired, VAS closed their doors.


I went home that day and told my wife the news. She went apeshit, taking the birdcage with my three finches in it and throwing it at me, in front of the kids. I walked out of the house, leaving the kids to gather up my three little finches. My Landlord lived only a few houses away so I went and told him the news and asked for an extension. He still expected the rent to be paid on time, as always. The next day I made another cold call, much like the one I made to Copeland’s in 2003. I called the owner of Cambria Bicycle Outfitter. CBO at one time was solid Top 5 in mail order. It had fallen on hard times. Marketing was non-existent, the stores were a mess, and the website was archaic. But there was still cachet to the brand. I sensed a turnaround opportunity. All it needed were some disciplines put into place. The owner liked my ideas and hired me. Two weeks later I started at CBO as their General Manager. When I started my tenure the company had just came of a $1.5 million decrease in sales the prior year. I turned it around and eked out a 10% sales increase the following year. Our monthly uniques increased by over 125%. We booked our first profit in three years. The IT infrastructure was a shambles. I migrated the internal network/ERP to a virtual space to improve performance and saved $1k a month. The owner wasn’t happy with this nor the pace of our turnaround. I pointed out that we missed sales due to out-of-stocks from our poor cash position. He didn’t want to invest any capital. He decided a merger with a San Diego-based competitor was the solution. I couldn’t see the value in the strategy but as a good soldier I had my orders and I complied. After six months and a significant outlay of our cash, we had nothing to show for our side; zip, nada, zilch. I told him that it wasn’t going to work. He didn’t want to hear it. We entered the winter of 2009/2010 in a precarious cash position. I had already cut payroll to the bone. We flipped into the new year and the owner let me go. It was January 15, 2010. I was now staring at unemployment, with a wife who just completed a cancer battle and three wonderful kids. The cancer fight wiped out all our savings. Things looked bleak that day. I went to the unemployment office and filed for employment for the very first time in my life. I had never been so humiliated and denigrated in my entire life. None of the staff appeared even remotely qualified for their jobs. They didn’t even care. And there I was, unemployed. I was in a daze, utterly and hopelessly disoriented. For the second time in my life I began a job search while unemployed. I had a nice, solid resume that showed constant forward progress in my career from buyer to merchandise director to general manager. But trust me, companies don’t hire people who happen to be unemployed. Little did I know what was in store for me six months later. That’s when I found my wife of 23 years dead in the shower.


What happens on a day like today, when it feels like you hit rock bottom? Well, you don’t bounce back up. You crawl back, fighting every step of the way. You take it one day at a time. Every day seems like there are setbacks. If there is one thing I learned from failure it’s this: You can waste your energy ruminating on things you can’t control. You can ruminate over what’s happening in the outside world. You can ruminate over what other people do, over what they think of you. You can ruminate over what happened in the past. But it will only lead to mental ruin. Human beings are unique creatures. Millions of years of evolution have blessed our minds with a special capacity, something no other animal has. Animals rely on instinct, not cognitive thinking, to survive. We alone can freely chose our what we do next, our actions. Only we can make things happen for ourselves. Only I can chose the lines I color in. That is the gift of Free Will. Choose wisely.

Four Year Anniversary


It was four years ago to the day that I was fired from my duties as the General Manager of Cambria Bicycle Outfitters. The owner said I had failed to increase business fast enough.

When I started my tenure the company had just came of a $1.5 million decrease in sales the prior year. I turned it around and ecked out a 10% sales increase the following year. Our monthly uniques increased by over 125%. We booked our first profit in three years. The IT infrastructure was a shambles, so I migrated the internal network/ERP to a 3rd party hosted space. We improved performance and lowered operating costs by over $1k a month.

The owner wasn’t happy with this nor the pace of our turnaround. I pointed out that we missed sales due to out-of-stocks from our poor cash position. He didn’t want to invest any capital. He decided a merger with a San Diego-based competitor was the solution. I couldn’t see the value in the strategy but as a good soldier I had my orders and I complied. After six months and a significant outlay of our cash, we had nothing to show for our side; zip, nada, zilch. I told him that it wasn’t going to work. He didn’t want to hear it.

We entered the winter of 2009/2010 in a precarious cash position. I had already cut payroll to the bone. We flipped into the new year and the owner let me go.

I was now staring at unemployment, with a wife who just completed a cancer battle and three wonderful kids. The cancer fight wiped out all our savings. Things looked bleak that day.

Little did I know what was in store for me six months later.