Why I Write

The obvious  smart aleck answer is simply:"somebody has to do it"

I consider myself a writer of sorts as I have had a fair amount of success writing various articles and blogs on a variety of topics for clients on  the Internet. My expertise encompasses a relatively new writing niche known as "Content Provider." I am paid for my efforts which meets the definition of professional.

I am also often considered an expert if I  spent five minutes or so gathering background information on a subject, any subject. If you regard the things you read on a website, blog or product review article as being the absolute gospel truth, the faith you have in your fellow man (me) could easily be shaken, even destroyed by what you read here

Before you sell the ranch and put your money on something you've read online, remember this: I may have written that piece. You might assume that the originator of the concept, product, data, information or anything on that web site to be completely accurate. The truth is, I may have written it based on my limited research, hearsay, speculation or outright half-truths.

You might be amazed to find that so much of the authoritive pieces you read online that are represented as being studied and correct and written by actual authorities are actually written by ghostwriters like myself who spring from the bottomless, pool of anonymous content writers who tunneled their way from obscurity to positions that pay the astonishing sum of one to ten cents a word for our efforts. 

 Many of these published articles are actually quite good. As a result, those who paid for my articles get full credit and are recognized as the authors.  They are often paid a handsome sum for submitting my work. 

While I may have earned $5 for the 500 word article, the writer who submitted it earned three to five times more. But that's the world of Internet writing. That's why some writers drive a Mercedes while many others go for Ford pick up trucks. 

They have paid the price with years of experience and exposure, building their reputations to the point where they can now benefit from the sweat of others like myself and other writers who have not yet clawed our way out of the pit. So why in the world would anyone want to write for these authors? There are a few good reasons why. 

We may love the craft and the idea of being a writer, but in truth most of us are nothing but hacks who have difficulty stringing 3 or 4 good sentences together in order to create a readable and entertaining paragraph. So why do we continue on this hopeless journey. That's simple. It's because we believe that with practice our skills will improve enough to bring us to a higher level, or at the very least, a level better than the last chapter we wrote.

 Actually there are other incentives and areas where we can carve out our niche in the literary field. As the Internet continues to grow, so do opportunities for many other new categories within the field. Those of us who stay on and continue to ghost-write, do improve with time and effort. The Articles we are assigned or take out of the everyday pool of articled for hire, are amazingly accurate and well written. 

Our articles are not only believable, they are deserving of a good rating. As we progress along the path, our writer ratings may also improve and serve to provide us content providers, a more meaningful income through the brokers that hire us. 


If we choose to become totally independent authors, we can take on direct accounts for whom we become the primary source for every written word they need to generate. We could  move up to a used Audi or Lexus. The world becomes a better place and you may actually start to believe more of what you read on the Internet, even if I was the person who wrote it.

"Screw the Pain - Save a Soul"

Reflections

Depending on my mood, I can start the day feeling sorry for myself or feeling great. It's thar "Poor Me" syndrome that bothers me. It can come and go without warning, but lately it often comes way too often and stays way too long. 

The medical community calls it depression. I suppose that's what I might have, but fortunately that feeling passes quickly so it doesn't bother me much.  I found that thinking of all the good things I encounter more than makes up for the bad. As a result, I decided to stop being depressed. That was simple enough- when it works.

There's plenty to keep me mentally occupied. It's the lack of physical activity thing that drives me nuts. My wife knows all about how I feel and  goes out of her way to help.  The root of my problem is the constant pain and limited mobility that is the issue


 I recently read a report on suicide which claimed 90% of them are due to serious pain issues. I can believe it. Thank God I am too much of a coward to consider taking my life. I 'd rather suffer.


"Screw the Pain - Save a Soul" is my new motto.

I've decided to take a new tack to deal with my pain. It's actually an old tack that  dates back to my childhood days when I attended a parochial school in Detroit. The nuns taught us that we could do our part to release some poor souls from purgatory by offering our pain and suffering on their behalf. What the hell, it couldn't hurt to give it a try. If it works, I would have a lot of souls beholding to me.

I confess I have lost much of the religious fervor and zeal of my youth, but for some reason the pain for heavenly gain trade-off stuck with me. Consequently, I took the advice of Sister Albertina and dedicate every new and old pre-existing pain to good use by bailing some unsuspecting soul out of their temporary fire and brimstone existence.

I suspect that at this stage of my long running Purgatorial Release Project, I have bailed out hundreds, if not thousands of imperfect Christians from their indefinite period of restitution by fire. I mean, what the hell, we are only human. Let my people's souls go. Maybe someone will do the same for me some day.

Ouch! I just had another sharp pain and there goes another poor soul flittering upward to his reward. 

Don't Believe Everything You Read ..... Especially if You See it On the Internet

Seriously People, Don't Believe Everything You Read on the Internet

 by Itzall B. Esse

The Internet has become the leading source for all manner of information and the first place people head for to discover whatever it is they seek, surpassing  Libraries, Encyclopedias and no doubt any of the remaining oracles and false prophets.

It is where the public and private factors search for everything from knowledge to nonsense. It has even replaced your mother as the "go to source" for everything you would like to know, right now. Best of all, it is the place to go to settle a bet, verify a non-essential bit of information and to show the rest of the un-googled world just how smart you are. 

It makes smart guys out of dolts and dolts look like dolts who have figured out the mysteries of the Internet. But take the advice of a long time Internet information provider, because you find answers on Google. does not necessarily mean they are the right ones.  They may have been concocted by me,sometimes under my pen name Itzall B. Esse, a professional ghost writer and b-esser

Led by Google and other search engines, people now rush online to confirm or deny virtually any subject that comes into question. It’s where the masses go for the truth. I find it absolutely amazing that vast numbers of the populace believe that if you see something on the web, it must be true.  The problem of that assumption is that I, or obe of the thousands o9f freelance writers might have written it. Some of us are reliable and trustworthy; others are not.

Who do you trust?

At one time, before I began my career  freelancing for a vast number of clients, I did have some faith in what I discovered and wrote about on web. I assumed that all the information I ran across in the postings were based on hard facts and were 100% true. While some companies and individuals go out of their way to be honest about their products, information and services, there are plenty of folks out there who are simply out to make a buck at the expense of truth.  They will offer a sliver of truth then garnish it with a pile of good old fashioned horseor bull poop.


I am paid to be an expert. It matters not if I really am. Over the past several years, I found myself thrust into that role about subjects and products I knew nothing about.  The secret is knowing  "how to know" and where to look.  Pretty simple actually.

Examples: I became the expert and the source of information for a variety of topics from plumbing repairs and services to legal matters, boat propellers, women's fashion, annuities, automobile reviews, medical conditions, drugs, hearing aids, locksmiths, New York City apartment rentals, as well as steroids and dozens of other topics for which I must admit, before I began the article, my knowledge ranged from non existent to limited at best. 

Medical procedures, electronic devices and my favorite, waste-water treatment plants were other topics I wrote about posing as an accomplished go-to person for each of those subjects. I actually did do some research so there was often some some truth to what I wrote.  

You name it and chances are I have written about it  - no matter how complex the subject matter. I have become an advanced know it all with a degree in BS and a legend in my own mind. As far as my records show, I wrote somewhere near 4,000 of these articles. If you happened to have read one of my plumbing articles on how to fix a leak in your water line, I apologize for the water damage you suffered when the fix went awry. Actually I am being a bit harsh on myself. Most of my advice actually works out, quite well actually and a lot of my readers thanked me, or  the author I represented.

  FYI - Numerous blogs and informative articles that carry the bylines of so called experts, company founders, officers and technicians are in fact authored by yours truly and other freelancers  like myself. It got so bad that I actually began believing much of what I wrote. At one point I authored a series of articles about scientology and did a series for … uh, never mind, I don’t want to go there.

I have been asked to write favorable positive reviews for products I have never used, let alone heard of. And, I have followed through on company requests to  provide as many as ten positive reviews under ten fictitious names from ten unique locations for new products  by a renowned national company.

 A well known animal supply chain hired me to write a series of articles on  training a dog. I took the assignment then began to write as I sat helplessly observing my untrained dog go through her medley of bad things I supposedly knew how to fix. The articles turned out well and I actually learned how to teach my dog the command: "come". she often disregards my command.

Eventually my conscience got the best of me.  I stopped accepting many of  assignments early on in my career after my nose began taking on a Pinocchio-like proportions.

Now, I sit before you after baring my soul hoping that my transgressions may some day be forgiven and I can once again become an upstanding, scrupulous model citizen and writer.

Keep tuned to my blog and tell me how I'm doing.


It’s amazing what a guy will do for a measly nickel a word, and incidentally, I am still available for hire … truthfully.

Regards, Itzall B. Esse ( not really - trust me.

Drugs, Meds, Illnesses and Rock & Roll

2/16/2015 0 Comments    I 'm a half way decent conversationalist, comfortable discussing

The Black and White of High School Football

Orchard Lake Saint Mary Prep School has had a long proud tradition of academic and athletic excellence going back many decades.The school campus is situated in the lily white Village of Orchard Lake on the shores of that body.

For the greater part of its existence, the was a bastion of first rate education established originally for students of Polish extraction - kids who were students first and athletes second. The High School draws from the cream of Catholic scholastic achievers from across metropolitan Detroit.  Its reputation always stood at the highest level. Graduates went on to many of the top colleges in the country and then on to successful careers.

The school once drew a large number of their student body from the families of the large upper middle class Polish Catholic population in the tri county area of Detroit.The academic curriculum always took precedence over athletics. The Eagle teams were often compared to those from Notre Dame with its traditions and attitudes. They played in the toughest division of the Catholic League and usually fared quite well.

AS competition among rival schools intensifies, OLSM found itself becoming overwhelmed by the competition for talent around the area. As a remotely situated school, powerhouse teams like Brother Rice, Catholic Central and others were attracting players from the huge pool of Detroit athletes.

For the most part these players are primarily African Americans, non Catholic and certainly not Polish. They come to the school without the benefit of strong family backgrounds or a decent educational foundation, but boy, they sure can play football.

Those who would argue that opportunities should be open to all regardless of background or color disregard the truth in those instances. Exposing, then expecting a young man to adapt to an alternative society, where their new classmates are essentially upper middle class whites who by comparison are pampered and mostly genteel, not to mentioned better prepared academically to meet the demands of OLSM.

Grant Mason played football for OLSM and graduated in 2001. He was an all state two way player  who was also named Michigan's top athlete. He went on to play for U of M then made his way to the NFL. Grant was arrested this week for his role in stolen car plot after he was caught trying to sell a stolen Audi on Craigslist for thirty grand.

With his conviction and sentencing, his impossible dream came to an end. With it, hopefully the demise of a system of athlete recruitment that truly fails to fit the standards established a century ago by the school: He could never fit the profile. He was not caucasion, Polish nor Catholic. He had no  strong family background and support system, nor  a propensity for learning and advancement. How he made it through the tough curriculum at the school is a mystery, but not really difficult to figure. He could play football

If the goal of the school is to turn out a well rounded young man, the plan has gone awry.  They won a few games but tarnished their reputation. Step back and take a good look at yourself OLSM. Is It worth  bringing in mercenaries for 3 months of high ratings?

Truthfully, OLSM is  not alone in this folly. Catholic Central, Brother Rice, and the list goes on. U of D, a school that stayed in the D and is surrounded by 700,000 Afr-ams, is at least recruiting local talent from the huge black population that encompasses their campus in Detroit.

If schools are set on bringing in black athletes,why not pay them to entertain the wealthy alumni and boosters from the high class suburbs of the D. Give them some chump change to at least prepare them for what their future will undoubtedly bring after they leave their host schools.

Ask Grant Mason

Old Rock Star Blues Bob Seger

     

Bob Seger is an icon in many parts of the country. That’s especially true in Michigan where he lives and works. So anything he does rarely goes unnoticed near his home in Southeast Michigan. He has sold millions of albums during his long career and probably could have sold even more if he were able to increase his production. His latest album Ride Out took six years to complete. My curiosity got the best of me after hearing about his latest release and especially because he and I operate in the same orbit totally unaware of each other. That’s what possesed me to check out his initial tour stop.

I actually stayed up late last night to watch Bob Seger introduce his new album Ride Out to a large studio audience and a much larger national audience on the Jimmy Kimmel Show.  It was the least I could do for ol’ Bob. After all, he and I are contemporaries. We’re also practically next door neighbors. Well sort of, in that he lives on the lake adjoining the lake that I adjoin. I am within walking distance of the water. Bob is on the water in a home that is somewhat larger than mine by 15,000 square feet give or take an acre.

I can’t say that I am a huge fan of Bob’s. I am no one's fan in particular, but I did love Bob’s Chevy commercial. So where's all this leading?

As I mentioned, Bob was on the Jimmy Kimmel show (I think I have the right JImmy). All those young whippersnappers on late night shows look the same to me. Anyhow, as luck would have it, Seger ‘s segment came up; so at 12:20 AM or thereabouts, this old guy and his unhappy sleep deprived mutt were tuned in to the performance.

Truthfully, I felt sorry for the pink skinned, white haired, chubby old rock singer (sounds like a song title) who was trying his best to capture his long lost youth while imitating the night moves and Jagger gyrations, he had obviously practiced but forgot. I thought that while some old guys actually look pretty good with their greying hair and wrinkles, Bob looks too pink, too chubby to fill the role of a rock and roll legend. Besides, he needs a new hair style to replace the cut that was popular 40 or 50 yrs ago.

On stage, Bob attempted all manner of moves and gyrations that some expensive choreographer put together for the little white haired chub to make himself legend-like: stage gimmicks like microphone twirling and pointing to "in the know" individuals in the front rows, then finally rounding off his performance with suggestive facial expressions, toothy smiles, a 6 foot saxophone solo and band cues for his Silver Bullet posse that were not at all spontaneous or necessary.

Camera angles made it difficult to determine if he was hitting it off with his large audience. His  dance steps were fitting I suppose for an elderly old guy who dared put his bones to the test with every move. At the end he did receive a big hand from the crowd,  but that can be made to happen by flashing cue cards to the audience.

I have to admire his stamina for the last number he did. His voice tended to fade in and out, but when you go live that happens. The local papers here tell about his daily workouts to build strength for the tour. I hope the old guy makes it and his Marlboro lights don’t cause any breakdowns.

But it’s over. Bob set out to do a job and he accomplish his goal. All things considered, he put on a decent show. Good work neighbor, but when this tour is over, it will surely be time for you to Ride Out of Dodge the last time. Write a few more great Chevy commercials but syop your silly stage strutting. You're too damn pink, too chubby and you need a new hair do,

The Lost Art of Haggling

My Dad was an expert at haggling. Even my uncles who were pretty good at it themselves would ask dad to come along when they shopped for cars, furniture or any big ticket item. Much of his best haggling was directed towards the Jewish furniture store owner who prospered in his Lumberg Furniture Store on Michigan Avenue.

Harry Lumberg was a Polish Jew who immigrated here about the time many of the local Poles did sometime in the early 1900s - before things got too heated back in Poland. He spoke Polish and knew the ways of the people. He was my father’s favorite opponent  in the haggling arena where he and my father first met in 1939 when my parents were outfitting their first apartment.

If he or anyone he knew wanted to buy any furniture, my father would say, “"let’s go see the Jew,” as if Harry was the only person of that persuasion in town. Once he set foot in harry's store, dad would gaze around and look at the prices affixed to the stock. It was unthinkable for my father to buy anything at the prices listed on the tags, even if they were marked down. He would look at that tag then turn to Harry and with a dismissive chuckle say: “So what’s my price Harry”?

That’s how the drills began - a flurry of bids and counters, feints and thrusts masterfully served and returned. The men used all the tricks alternately raising and lowering their voices and tempo. Hand signal, finger pointing, arms thrust in the air in exclamatory gestures, it was always entertaining to  watch these two masters have at it.

Just when you thought that someone had won or was about to concede,  someone would try a new tact and change the direction of the negotiations  360 degrees. New pathways would open up only to be tossed aside. Options would be discussed before reverting back to square one."what's my price Harry"? The discussion would get more heated and contentious as the session went on.

Dad knew all the tricks. But Harry knew a few of his own. One of Dad’s favorites was the “walk out “ play. When he didn’t feel he had squeezed enough out of his opponent, he would make a move towards the door while telling Harry that he couldn’t be serious about making the sale if he insisted on those prices.

Often Harry would stop him before he got too far and another round of negotiation would break out. If that didn’t get the results he wanted, dad would simply shake his head in disgust and leave the store again. That was his classic double walk out move. Harry followed close behind shouting  "wait - wait"

To a first time observer, the antics could be embarrassing, but to these two pros it was business. It was a game they played and Harry expected it. The men respected each other. Dad sent many a customer to Harry over the years.

A few years later, when I got married I tried to use Dad’s tactics when I needed furniture.  I had watched the master apply his methods for years. I had it all down. So the day finally came around for me to face Harry at the haggle court. Harry and I took our positions and began the game.        

I was foolish enough to think I had old Harry backed into a corner. I tasted victory after only 10 minutes or so of amateurish haggling. So I allowed Mr. Lumberg to close the deal and hold on to those few pennies I allowed him to earn. I actually felt sorry for the poor disadvantaged Jewish retailer.

Proud of my victory over Harry, I stopped to see my father and of course Dad asked how I did. “Great dad, I replied”. Are you sure, he asked?  Let’s see! He headed off to see Harry. After a half hour, he returned home and handed me  50 or 100 bucks - complements of Harry Lumberg.   

I will never forget “But what’s my price”?  When the day was over Dad would puff his chest and proudly exclaim, “I got that old Jew good today.” while almost 20 miles away, while sitting at his dinner table, Harry was telling his wife about his great day-beating that old Polack at his game.

That's the way business was done back in the day.

Pole1 

Jew 1  

tie game

Years later I ran into Harry long after he closed his store. The first thing he asked was: "How's your dad? I miss him"