About Marc Baldwin

Let's all laugh like hell while holding our feet to the fire, me included, with Zenish, tough love, Extreme Ownership. Nothing is funnier than facing the Truth!

When I was growing up in Detroit, my Dad and Mom had a lot of huge parties, some crazy loud shindigs. 35-50 people raising hell in our massive basement, complete with a poker table, a Baldwin (that's right) Grand Piano, a shuffleboard court, a ping pong table, the latest stereophonic HiFi blasting Frank Sinatra and Big Band vinyls, a pool table, and, of course, a full-length fully-stocked bar manned by a hired bartender. When guests arrived at my parents' legendary parties, my Dad would greet them all at the door and not even let them inside until he told them and they agreed to obey his one unbreakable rule. My Dad was 6'6" which was more like 6'10" these days. There just weren't a lot of men as big as him. So when he laid down the law, they nodded and agreed: "Remember the rule," he said, looming over his guests, "don't talk about politics or religion. You'll ruin the party." The same rule applies at my parties. All else is fair game.