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It’s getting hot in here.

I want my Cold War back.

Yes, I am feeling nostalgic about the Cold War. The Good Ol’ Days.

Here’s the new and dangerous variable.  The “C” word.  Crazy. Russia under Vladimir Putin is crazy. Somewhere, Nikita Khrushchev is shaking his head.

I was born in 1954. It is fair to call me a child of the 60s. I have balled up against school hallway walls like an armadillo during civil defense drills. Yes, my little schoolmates and I were trained to put our arms over our heads as we prepared to kiss our tiny asses goodbye.

My family had neighbors who built underground bomb shelters and stocked them with 20 years worth of non-perishable, and no doubt delicious, food.

Yeah, those were some strange days in October of 1962. My third grade teacher, Mrs. Terry, tried to explain that Cuban Missile Crisis thing to us. My class spent a lot of time up against the walls for a couple of weeks.

But looking back to those days six decades ago, it is now clear that we were never safer.

Here’s why. The Soviet Union under Khrushchev and his parade of Cold War successors was not crazy. Not at all. Evil, often. But never crazy. And we weren’t crazy. As a result, the doctrine of mutually assured destruction was sufficient to keep the peace. Maybe the future was cloudy, but it did not involve a mushroom cloud.

Essentially, they weren’t gonna do diddly when it came to nuclear weapons, and neither were we. Because they weren’t crazy. And neither were we.

My definition of crazy is a leader or a society that does not care about the lives of its own children, as long as their deaths advance some type of jihad.

So, yeah, folks who strap suicide bombs to their own kids are effing crazy.

That is essentially where we are now with Russia under Putin.

He’s crazy. And that’s new.

The Soviets lost more people in WWII than anyone else. The horrors of that inferno were still fresh in their minds and memories at the height of the Cold War. They didn’t want their kids to die in a nuclear hell any more than we wanted our children to perish.

The calculus has now changed.

Because Putin is effing crazy.

You bet I want my Cold War back.  Stop, drop and cover.

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Paul's Bio

I clearly have the attention span of your median fruit fly.Look! Airplane!

Sorry. I’m back.

It’s both a curse and a blessing. I’ve never bought this stuff about, “He who dies with the most toys wins.” But I do think that a wide range of life experiences helps us grow as people, and helps us better relate to other people. I’ve been fortunate. And I am beyond grateful.

I show up on time. I go like hell. I’m a good listener. I hold myself accountable. I own my mistakes. And I have a natural and an insatiable curiosity. I’m never afraid to say, “I don’t know,” when I don’t. But then I try to find out.

The flip side is I’m a lousy ballroom dancer and my clothes sometimes fit me funny.

Stuff matters to me. I care. But while I take that stuff seriously, I try hard to never take myself seriously. As a result, I have sometimes been told, “Paul, it’s hard to tell when you’re serious and when you’re just having some fun. Which is it? Serious or fun?”

My answer is “yes.” But I think that is a legitimate criticism. I promise I’m going to work on that.

This has been the quickest and strangest half-century I’ve ever experienced. During that period, I’ve been afforded amazing opportunities in news and sports journalism across all platforms. I have taught wonderful students at the high school and collegiate level. Always, I learned more from them than they did from me. I’ve been a high school administrator. I spent ten seasons as a high school varsity football coach. I’ve been an advertising executive. I’ve hosted nationally syndicated television entertainment shows. In maybe the biggest honor I ever received, I was selected by NASA to be “Chet The Astronaut” for the “Land The Shuttle” simulator at Space Center Houston. (All I can say there, is “Do as I say, not as I do.” I put that thing in the Everglades more often than not.) Most recently, I just wrapped up a decade as a television news director, during which time our teams distinguished themselves in holding the powerful accountable, achieving both critical and ratings success.

What does all that mean? It means I am profoundly grateful. It also means I’m ready for “next.” So here we are. Radically Rational. It’s an idea I woke up with in 2017. I scribbled “Radically Rational” on a piece of notebook paper and used a magnet to stick it on our refrigerator. I saw it every day, and it just would not leave me alone.

I am second in charge at Radically Rational, LLC. My wife, Jo (also known as BB), is the president. Clearly, I have failed in my attempt to sleep my way to the top of this organization.

I hope you will learn that I’m loyal as a Labrador. But I will admit that this doggie can bite every now and then. My promise to you? I will show up on time. I will go like hell. I will listen to you earnestly and attentively. I will hold myself accountable. I will never be the least bit hesitant to say, “I don’t know,” when I don’t.

But then I’ll try to find out. Let’s do it.