This bugs me more than you might expect. "Yeah yeah," you're saying - "So elevators skip 13. So what? Who cares?" Well dammit, I do. And you know something: if that's all it was, just the whole skipping 13 thing, I might, might let it slide. But oooooh no, elevator floor-numbering dishonesty doesn't stop there. It only begins.
The real problem is much worse. See, once it became commonplace for buildings to pretend that the 13th floor was really the 14th, all responsibility to truth telling in floor-numbering pretty much crumbled. Have you ever paid attention to the extent to which buildings will lie about what floor is what? Or to how common it is?
It's all about height. It's about pretending the building is taller than it really is. It's about inducing people to rent apartment space or office space from your highrise by tricking them into believing they're moving in to a higher floor. But they not! They isn't! They ain't!
For years, I've been sort of peripherally aware that this was going on. I'd be in an elevator in an office building, and I'd see that the floors started at 10 and went up to 50, and I'd be thinking "This building doesn't really have 50 floors, does it?" And then I'd forget about it. But things came to a head just recently here in Las Vegas. We have all these towering hotels here, and all of them are competing to be the biggest and the baddest. I was in an elevator at the Wynn not too long ago, and noticed that the floors went up to 60.
Now you have to realize - no way does the Wynn have 60 floors. 40... 45... maybe 50. That's it. So I went to the front desk and asked how many floors were in the building. "60." I was told. "But are there really 60 floors in the building?" I asked. "Or are you skipping some?" Two clerks went into a huddle, but they didn't know. Ultimately they brought in a security guy who was in the vicinity. The conversation went something like this.
Security Guy: "There are 60 guest floors."
Me: "But there aren't really 60 floors in the tower, right?"
SG: "No, there are only 50 floors in the building."
Me: "So how can there be 60 guest floors?"
SG: "Well, there's no floor 40 through 49."
Me: "Why not?"
SG: "The number 4 is very close to the Mandarin word for death. Or wait, no. It's the Cantonese word for death. It sounds the same as 'four'. Either that, or the written word is the same. I don't know. But the number 4 is very unlucky for the Asians."
Me: "Is there a 4th floor?"
SG: "Yes."
Me: "There are just no Asians on it then?"
SG: "Uh, I really don't know."
Me: "And there's no 13th floor either?"
SG: "Yes, there's no 13."
Me: "So there's actually only 49 floors then. 60 minus 40-49 minus 13."
SG: "No, there's 50 floors."
Me: "Has there been any concern that maybe you're giving people who use the elevators the wrong impression about the height of the building?"
SG: "No, I don't think that's come up."
At this point I was starting to get looks like maybe they wanted me to transact some actual business, or be on my way. Just as a side note here, I am more and more baffled by the stock the Chinese put in their dumb superstitions. Oh no, the color brown! I mean, we have our own superstitions: the cats and the ladders and spilling salt and all that - but no one's really serious about it right? If someone actually, seriously started panicking over a knocked-over salt shaker, wouldn't that be grounds to conclude that they were massively stupid? "It's all part of their rich, ancient culture" doesn't impress me at all. Grow up, Chinese.
So that's it, really. Like a short man padding his shoes, there's just a sad whiff of desperation in a building trying to fool you into thinking it's tall. It's not a bold or inventive lie, it's just pathetic. It's like a guy on the nautilus saying "98....99...." as you approach. It's just another deception that society feels free to throw at you for the simple reason that no one's bothered to call them on it yet.
Lying elevators: J'accuse!
Monday, December 12, 2005
Sunday, December 04, 2005
140 Annoyances
121. A weak dribble coming out of the water fountain.
122. The gratuitous, pointless, just-cause-we-can cussing that permeates every HBO show.
123. The Nokia Ringtone
124. Giving apples on Halloween.
125. Tee shirts boasting about superbowls from four years ago.
126. Unwanted Pavlovian responses - like when I take the occasional nighttime shower and it leaves me unable to sleep, or when I hear a song I normally listen to at the gym and it causes my heartbeat to accelerate.
127. That "Jumpin' Jive'n!" song. For the love of God, swing dance music, GET A SECOND SONG.
128. People who insist on their full first name.
129. Daylight Savings Time
130. The ability of wires and cords, all by themselves, to get tangled in knots of rubik's-cube complexity.
131. Dreams where I just can't find a bathroom.
132. The way that 9/11 is constantly cited, even years later, in corporate annual reports, in any industry, to explain virtually any financial shortcoming.
133. Dr. T and the Women
134. Lawn sprinklers in the pouring rain.
135. Airport security always "recommends" that I remove my shoes. When I choose not to, then they insist. So it wasn't really a recommendation. It was a requirement. Tell you what, let's make a deal. I'll remove my shoes, and you level with me up front and not treat me like a fucking five year old.
136. When you answer the phone and the other person says "Hi! Who is this?"
137. Menus that let me know that a certain entree "goes great with a Bud Light!"
138. How come whenever videogame playing is portayed on TV or in film, the player is always spasming violently with the controller, bashing buttons at high speeds and jerking their arms around?
139. Sucking a lemon seed up the straw and swallowing it.
140. Was it me or was Tracey Ullman never funny, ever? Not even for a second. Not once. Not for one moment over like 3 different shows, spanning deacdes? Never. Just not ever, ever funny.
122. The gratuitous, pointless, just-cause-we-can cussing that permeates every HBO show.
123. The Nokia Ringtone
124. Giving apples on Halloween.
125. Tee shirts boasting about superbowls from four years ago.
126. Unwanted Pavlovian responses - like when I take the occasional nighttime shower and it leaves me unable to sleep, or when I hear a song I normally listen to at the gym and it causes my heartbeat to accelerate.
127. That "Jumpin' Jive'n!" song. For the love of God, swing dance music, GET A SECOND SONG.
128. People who insist on their full first name.
129. Daylight Savings Time
130. The ability of wires and cords, all by themselves, to get tangled in knots of rubik's-cube complexity.
131. Dreams where I just can't find a bathroom.
132. The way that 9/11 is constantly cited, even years later, in corporate annual reports, in any industry, to explain virtually any financial shortcoming.
133. Dr. T and the Women
134. Lawn sprinklers in the pouring rain.
135. Airport security always "recommends" that I remove my shoes. When I choose not to, then they insist. So it wasn't really a recommendation. It was a requirement. Tell you what, let's make a deal. I'll remove my shoes, and you level with me up front and not treat me like a fucking five year old.
136. When you answer the phone and the other person says "Hi! Who is this?"
137. Menus that let me know that a certain entree "goes great with a Bud Light!"
138. How come whenever videogame playing is portayed on TV or in film, the player is always spasming violently with the controller, bashing buttons at high speeds and jerking their arms around?
139. Sucking a lemon seed up the straw and swallowing it.
140. Was it me or was Tracey Ullman never funny, ever? Not even for a second. Not once. Not for one moment over like 3 different shows, spanning deacdes? Never. Just not ever, ever funny.
Monday, November 21, 2005
Illegible Signatures
I've kept silent about this my whole life, but I think today is the day to blow the whistle on this bullshit. Why do people draw a lazy loop that vaguely resembles the first letter of their name, follow it with a wavy line, and call it their signature? That's just a load of crap.
Would I be wrong to say that the primary purpose of a signature is to be legible? So that someone else can see it and say: "Yup - that's Fred Johnson."Granted there are secondary attributes to a good signature, like being written in a distinctive hand and being asthetically pleasing - but do either of those things come before the need to be deciphered?
I make the one - ONE exception, where a person has some sort of job where they have to sign their name eighty times a day. Then okay, you can do the lazy squiggle. But even then, you'd want two signatures in your arsenal - a work signature and a formal signature.
I have this pet theory that the less legible your signature is, or the less it bears any resemblence to your actual name, the more of an asshole you probably are. Do you think Mother Teresa, when she had to sign something, just did some jerky, zig-zaggy pen motions and then whipped off a straight line like Dennis Miller at the end of a weekend update? Of course not! When St. Teresa signed off on something, I think you'd be treated to some beautiful cursive. I mean, the meaningless-loop-and-wavy-line guy clearly don't care about the person who has to look at the signature. Which is, after all, the whole purpose of writing a signature. A signature gets written for the express purpose of some other person looking at it at some point in the future. It has no other purpose.
Behold, the signatures on the declaration of independence.
http://www.angelfire.com/pro/bealeciphers/Page13.htm
Now those are some signatures! Not one asshole in the bunch. Not only are they legible, individually distinctive and nice to look at, but there's lot of little artistic flourishes. How about all those underlining designs? I never even noticed the one under John Hancock. It looks like he's bored in 4th period bio lab.
But we've sunk far since the declaration of independence. Nowadays any old squiggle, wavy line, or formless scratching is an acceptable signature. And here's the big question. If society no longer requires that your signature look anything like your name or be legible at all, why even make a halfhearted attempt at legibility? Why settle for an exaggerated loop followed by a line? Why not pull a Prince and sign something compeltely goofy as your signature? Why not just draw a penis? This could be my new signature:
At least that would be legible, distinctive, and it doesn't insult you with any lack of effort or sloppiness.
So that's really the honorable choice. Write your signatures so we can read them, or at least make a credible effort drawing some genitalia. I'd prefer the former. Look to the Declaration of Independence for guidance. This wasn't just a statement of principles and ideals, it was a guide to signing your own name and not looking the jackass. We can all learn from that.
Would I be wrong to say that the primary purpose of a signature is to be legible? So that someone else can see it and say: "Yup - that's Fred Johnson."Granted there are secondary attributes to a good signature, like being written in a distinctive hand and being asthetically pleasing - but do either of those things come before the need to be deciphered?
I make the one - ONE exception, where a person has some sort of job where they have to sign their name eighty times a day. Then okay, you can do the lazy squiggle. But even then, you'd want two signatures in your arsenal - a work signature and a formal signature.
I have this pet theory that the less legible your signature is, or the less it bears any resemblence to your actual name, the more of an asshole you probably are. Do you think Mother Teresa, when she had to sign something, just did some jerky, zig-zaggy pen motions and then whipped off a straight line like Dennis Miller at the end of a weekend update? Of course not! When St. Teresa signed off on something, I think you'd be treated to some beautiful cursive. I mean, the meaningless-loop-and-wavy-line guy clearly don't care about the person who has to look at the signature. Which is, after all, the whole purpose of writing a signature. A signature gets written for the express purpose of some other person looking at it at some point in the future. It has no other purpose.
Behold, the signatures on the declaration of independence.
http://www.angelfire.com/pro/bealeciphers/Page13.htm
Now those are some signatures! Not one asshole in the bunch. Not only are they legible, individually distinctive and nice to look at, but there's lot of little artistic flourishes. How about all those underlining designs? I never even noticed the one under John Hancock. It looks like he's bored in 4th period bio lab.
But we've sunk far since the declaration of independence. Nowadays any old squiggle, wavy line, or formless scratching is an acceptable signature. And here's the big question. If society no longer requires that your signature look anything like your name or be legible at all, why even make a halfhearted attempt at legibility? Why settle for an exaggerated loop followed by a line? Why not pull a Prince and sign something compeltely goofy as your signature? Why not just draw a penis? This could be my new signature:
At least that would be legible, distinctive, and it doesn't insult you with any lack of effort or sloppiness.
So that's really the honorable choice. Write your signatures so we can read them, or at least make a credible effort drawing some genitalia. I'd prefer the former. Look to the Declaration of Independence for guidance. This wasn't just a statement of principles and ideals, it was a guide to signing your own name and not looking the jackass. We can all learn from that.
Sunday, November 20, 2005
Everything Should Be Open, All the Time
Businesses shouldn't close. Stores, banks, restaurants, supermarkets, the utility companies, government offices, the whole caboodle. Always open. Sundays? Open. 3 am? Open. Martin Luther King Day? Open.
That is the future. It's going to happen eventually - how could it not? I'm only arguing that it should happen now. I am tired of not being able to do some transaction at the bank because it's the wrong day of the week. I'm tired of not being able to get a decent meal because it's the wrong time of day. I'm tired of not being able to get customer service help over the phone because I've missed the office hours in central standard time.
Why is it that the places you need most urgently to be open right now, say your doctor's office - or the water company, or customer service for your PC, or the DMV, why are they the places most likely to be closed? You want some disgusting Del Taco at any time of day, no problem. But something you might actually need urgently? Come back between 8am and 4.
8am and 4? 8am and 4???? That's messed up.
One time I had a UPS pacakge that was sitting in the UPS warehouse that I had absolutely no way of picking up. UPS's hours coincided exactly with my work hours. They opened when I went to work. They closed when I got off. They were closed on the weekends. I had no way of getting this package. I argued with them. I pleaded. I tried to arrange some kind of under-the-table pickup, offering a nice gratuity. No deal. The day before it was returned to sender I ditched work to get it. I can't tell you if UPS has changed its warehouse hours since then, seeing as how I won't give them a dime of business for the rest of my life.
Society needs to take a big step back and reconsider its priorities. Now I've lived in New York City and Las Vegas, two cities noted for having a 24 hour culture. And if you can't get what you need in Vegas during off hours, what hope is there for everyone else? We're all screwed. The system as it stands just doesn't make any sense. Let's say we have errands to do at the DMV, or the post office, or a dozen different places. What's going to be the day we have free to do these chores? Sunday, right? What's the one day these stores are going to be closed? Yep, sunday.
So let's go briefly through the ostensible reasons why things close and explain why they don't hold up.
First of all, you've got this obsolete, holy Sabbath day mentality that just doesn't belong in our society anymore. If you think Sunday is holy, that's great. Good for you. You take the day off. But everyone else should get back to work. In the casino business here, it's common to hear people say "Today is my Monday" or "Tomorrow's my friday." Now that's the way it should be.
Think of the advantages. Overcrowded schools? What if I said I could give any school 40% additional capacity without adding one extra chair? It's called Saturday and Sunday. How about double capacity? Two words: swing shift. Get those kids to school in prime time.
So much of the way American society is time-oriented is based on some obsolete system. Kids getting the summers off to work the fields. Sunday liquor laws. It's time to shake off this notion that Sunday is America's day off. Let's see, what are the other objections...
Ah yes, money. It's not feasible to keep things open all night. Well, it's all a question of scale. Go into any 24 hour business and look around. Do they have a full crew working the Carls' Jr. at 3am? Of course not. It's two, maybe three guys. You don't need your full staff. For many of these stores, the only variable costs you have to worry about when staying open all night are the hourly wage of the one clerk and the power bill. A minimum stream of after-hours business is more than enough to make it worthwhile. And what about giving your customers the peace of mind of knowing that you're there 24/7, 365 days a year? That's worth something. That gets you respect and loyalty from your customer base.
If you feel, like I do, that nothing should ever be closed, then you definitely don't want to go to Europe. I was in England a few years ago and I couldn't believe it. Does no one in England get hungry after 8 pm? Restaurants there have "seatings". You can go for lunch or dinner, but they're closed in between. WTF? And I couldn't believe the sheer number of holidays over there. Every fifth day is a bank holiday or St. Ignacious day or something, and then everything closes. No wonder their economy is in the toilet.
Look, in the world of the future, everything's always open. How many movies have you seen about the future where the protagonist goes somewhere on urgent business, and his destination is closed? None! Nothing is closed in the future! That's what so great about it! We should just get started and do it now! I want to be able to turn to my grandkids and say "You know, when I was a boy, that place used to be closed." And they'll have no idea what I'm talking about. Anyone with me?
That is the future. It's going to happen eventually - how could it not? I'm only arguing that it should happen now. I am tired of not being able to do some transaction at the bank because it's the wrong day of the week. I'm tired of not being able to get a decent meal because it's the wrong time of day. I'm tired of not being able to get customer service help over the phone because I've missed the office hours in central standard time.
Why is it that the places you need most urgently to be open right now, say your doctor's office - or the water company, or customer service for your PC, or the DMV, why are they the places most likely to be closed? You want some disgusting Del Taco at any time of day, no problem. But something you might actually need urgently? Come back between 8am and 4.
8am and 4? 8am and 4???? That's messed up.
One time I had a UPS pacakge that was sitting in the UPS warehouse that I had absolutely no way of picking up. UPS's hours coincided exactly with my work hours. They opened when I went to work. They closed when I got off. They were closed on the weekends. I had no way of getting this package. I argued with them. I pleaded. I tried to arrange some kind of under-the-table pickup, offering a nice gratuity. No deal. The day before it was returned to sender I ditched work to get it. I can't tell you if UPS has changed its warehouse hours since then, seeing as how I won't give them a dime of business for the rest of my life.
Society needs to take a big step back and reconsider its priorities. Now I've lived in New York City and Las Vegas, two cities noted for having a 24 hour culture. And if you can't get what you need in Vegas during off hours, what hope is there for everyone else? We're all screwed. The system as it stands just doesn't make any sense. Let's say we have errands to do at the DMV, or the post office, or a dozen different places. What's going to be the day we have free to do these chores? Sunday, right? What's the one day these stores are going to be closed? Yep, sunday.
So let's go briefly through the ostensible reasons why things close and explain why they don't hold up.
First of all, you've got this obsolete, holy Sabbath day mentality that just doesn't belong in our society anymore. If you think Sunday is holy, that's great. Good for you. You take the day off. But everyone else should get back to work. In the casino business here, it's common to hear people say "Today is my Monday" or "Tomorrow's my friday." Now that's the way it should be.
Think of the advantages. Overcrowded schools? What if I said I could give any school 40% additional capacity without adding one extra chair? It's called Saturday and Sunday. How about double capacity? Two words: swing shift. Get those kids to school in prime time.
So much of the way American society is time-oriented is based on some obsolete system. Kids getting the summers off to work the fields. Sunday liquor laws. It's time to shake off this notion that Sunday is America's day off. Let's see, what are the other objections...
Ah yes, money. It's not feasible to keep things open all night. Well, it's all a question of scale. Go into any 24 hour business and look around. Do they have a full crew working the Carls' Jr. at 3am? Of course not. It's two, maybe three guys. You don't need your full staff. For many of these stores, the only variable costs you have to worry about when staying open all night are the hourly wage of the one clerk and the power bill. A minimum stream of after-hours business is more than enough to make it worthwhile. And what about giving your customers the peace of mind of knowing that you're there 24/7, 365 days a year? That's worth something. That gets you respect and loyalty from your customer base.
If you feel, like I do, that nothing should ever be closed, then you definitely don't want to go to Europe. I was in England a few years ago and I couldn't believe it. Does no one in England get hungry after 8 pm? Restaurants there have "seatings". You can go for lunch or dinner, but they're closed in between. WTF? And I couldn't believe the sheer number of holidays over there. Every fifth day is a bank holiday or St. Ignacious day or something, and then everything closes. No wonder their economy is in the toilet.
Look, in the world of the future, everything's always open. How many movies have you seen about the future where the protagonist goes somewhere on urgent business, and his destination is closed? None! Nothing is closed in the future! That's what so great about it! We should just get started and do it now! I want to be able to turn to my grandkids and say "You know, when I was a boy, that place used to be closed." And they'll have no idea what I'm talking about. Anyone with me?
Friday, November 04, 2005
Black Licorice
Hoo boy, black licorice sucks. It's not just kinda-bad, it's not just mildly bad. It actually has a hostile taste. It's a flavor that has you groping for an emergency beverage. It's foul.
Now if I licked a car tire, that would be foul too. But here's the difference. The car tire isn't in the candy aisle. There are things that taste worse than black licorice I grant you, but there's nothing that exceeds black licorice in the disparity between promised taste and actual taste. Nobody thinks a handful of mouse droppings is going to taste any good. But if we bagged them and put them next to the Snickers and called them Mouseychews then I think you'd be setting unrealistic expectations.
See, that's how I feel every day when I'm in a store and see something like "Good n' Plenty" on the shelf. I want to shake somebody by the shoulders and say "They're selling mouse droppings as candy!" See, the marketers of licorice are brazen. They could try to call it health food or new age food if they wanted - that stuff is expected to suck. But they call it candy. Candy!
Maybe that label dates back to the age when there just wasn't a lot of candy. Was there candy in pilgrim era America? What did they have? Taffy? Sugar cubes? I'm guessing it was back in the colonial era, or the frontier era, or the robber baron era (I don’t know, I get my eras confused) when someone took a long swig of licorice-flavored, hallucinogenic absinthe and said: “You know, maybe it’s just the wormwood talking – but I think this would make a great candy!” And then he fell over and died. And so licorice was born.
Now if I licked a car tire, that would be foul too. But here's the difference. The car tire isn't in the candy aisle. There are things that taste worse than black licorice I grant you, but there's nothing that exceeds black licorice in the disparity between promised taste and actual taste. Nobody thinks a handful of mouse droppings is going to taste any good. But if we bagged them and put them next to the Snickers and called them Mouseychews then I think you'd be setting unrealistic expectations.
See, that's how I feel every day when I'm in a store and see something like "Good n' Plenty" on the shelf. I want to shake somebody by the shoulders and say "They're selling mouse droppings as candy!" See, the marketers of licorice are brazen. They could try to call it health food or new age food if they wanted - that stuff is expected to suck. But they call it candy. Candy!
Maybe that label dates back to the age when there just wasn't a lot of candy. Was there candy in pilgrim era America? What did they have? Taffy? Sugar cubes? I'm guessing it was back in the colonial era, or the frontier era, or the robber baron era (I don’t know, I get my eras confused) when someone took a long swig of licorice-flavored, hallucinogenic absinthe and said: “You know, maybe it’s just the wormwood talking – but I think this would make a great candy!” And then he fell over and died. And so licorice was born.
To those of you who have given licorice as a gift, or offer it to guests, or give it to children on Halloween: how dare you. What the hell is wrong with you. Even if you've somehow managed to acquire the taste for yourself, what possibly makes you think it's okay to offer it to others? Are you trying to ruin a child's Halloween? To see licorice in the candy aisle is insult enough. To actually expect someone to eat it on your whim is disgusting. You should be forced to drink glasses of Clamato until you swear to keep your licorice to yourself.
P.S. Not a big fan of the carob chocolate either.
And you know, since this isn't a long entry, let me throw in my two cents about those milk mustache ads. (now in what, their fifteenth year?) Do they realize that the mustaches in these ads are grotesque and obscene and bear no resemblence at all to a genuine milk mustache? Do they not know that milk mustaches are unflattering and borderline repulsive to have to look at, particularly when the ad makes it appear you've been drinking heavy cream out of a bucket? Would you make a Hersheys ad showing a smiling person with chocolate smeared around the sides of their mouth? No, that would be disgusting. So why does milk get a free pass?
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
The Default Burger
I think I'm going to do a trilogy of posts about food. Outdoor dining is one big problem, but another one is burgers. How do you serve one? Do you just throw on ketchup? How bout mustard? Pickles, lettuce, tomato? Mayo? Special sauce, relish, onions? Barbeque? Guac? And we're not even talking about the bacon and the cheese, or some of the more exotic stuff like hot sauce and egg.
Everyone likes their burger a little different. How many permutations of these toppings are there? Millions? Me, I like a cheesburger with ketchup and raw onions. Occasionally bacon - the flavor can be a little too dominant. And here's the real catch. I don't like pickles, but I also don't like no pickles. I like the faint, lingering residue of pickle that comes from finding pickles in your burger and removing them.
And I have several dealbreaker toppings. Mustard and mayo are two. They can be kinda scraped off, but they can't be truly eliminated. That burger is ruined. Same with Russian, or any unwelcome sauce.
And that's just me. One person in the whole burger consumption universe. Unless you serve me a burger with the cheese, the ketchup, the raw onion, and the freshly evicted pickle slice, you've left me unsatisfied. How can you serve a burger that will make everyone happy? You can't. It's not possible. Which leads me to this weeks' constructive suggestion for society. What I propose is a kind of hamburger bill of rights. We should enshrine these principles into law.
1) No condiment or topping should be served on a burger without the explicit permission of the burger consuming party.
2) One should never assume that they can act as a burger topping selection proxy for someone else.
3) When condiment preference is in any doubt, serve plain.
4) Serving the burger open faced, with toppings placed invitingly on either the heel or crown is not an acceptable compromise.
5) "Cheese" means cheddar or American. It doesn't mean jack, provelone, muenster or swiss.
6) "Onions" require clarification. They can be raw or grilled. If you intend to serve them carmelized, or a non-burger variety like Bermuda, this requires special consent. If you intend to serve an onion-ring on the burger, you are an idiot.
7) Saying that a burger contains 100% real Angus beef has never, once, impressed anyone.
A few burger establishments should be congratulated for being ahead of the curve on this. Burger King burgers, despite being bad overall, have always been open to full customization. Every other chain has since adopted the "Have it Your Way" philosphy. Fatburger, for instance, has signs at the register reminding you to identify your topping preferences. That's thoughtful.
What's less encouraging is the way a default burger is prepared, absent of an expressed preference, at many of these places. McDonalds will put mustard on the burger. Now this is just totally nuts. Very few people want mustard on a cheeseburger. Why is this automatic? Then there's Wendys. Unless you specifically countermand it, your Wendys burger will have lettuce, tomato, pickle and mayo. Mayo, for Gods sakes.
When someone orders "pizza", does the restaurant feel at liberty to add whatever toppings they want? No. Does someone order "salad" and let the chef decide what kind? No. But apparantly we have all agreed to to just say "burger" and let the establishment slather it with mustard or mayo or whatever else they want. The default burger should be plain, and any additions must be solicited.
Everyone likes their burger a little different. How many permutations of these toppings are there? Millions? Me, I like a cheesburger with ketchup and raw onions. Occasionally bacon - the flavor can be a little too dominant. And here's the real catch. I don't like pickles, but I also don't like no pickles. I like the faint, lingering residue of pickle that comes from finding pickles in your burger and removing them.
And I have several dealbreaker toppings. Mustard and mayo are two. They can be kinda scraped off, but they can't be truly eliminated. That burger is ruined. Same with Russian, or any unwelcome sauce.
And that's just me. One person in the whole burger consumption universe. Unless you serve me a burger with the cheese, the ketchup, the raw onion, and the freshly evicted pickle slice, you've left me unsatisfied. How can you serve a burger that will make everyone happy? You can't. It's not possible. Which leads me to this weeks' constructive suggestion for society. What I propose is a kind of hamburger bill of rights. We should enshrine these principles into law.
1) No condiment or topping should be served on a burger without the explicit permission of the burger consuming party.
2) One should never assume that they can act as a burger topping selection proxy for someone else.
3) When condiment preference is in any doubt, serve plain.
4) Serving the burger open faced, with toppings placed invitingly on either the heel or crown is not an acceptable compromise.
5) "Cheese" means cheddar or American. It doesn't mean jack, provelone, muenster or swiss.
6) "Onions" require clarification. They can be raw or grilled. If you intend to serve them carmelized, or a non-burger variety like Bermuda, this requires special consent. If you intend to serve an onion-ring on the burger, you are an idiot.
7) Saying that a burger contains 100% real Angus beef has never, once, impressed anyone.
A few burger establishments should be congratulated for being ahead of the curve on this. Burger King burgers, despite being bad overall, have always been open to full customization. Every other chain has since adopted the "Have it Your Way" philosphy. Fatburger, for instance, has signs at the register reminding you to identify your topping preferences. That's thoughtful.
What's less encouraging is the way a default burger is prepared, absent of an expressed preference, at many of these places. McDonalds will put mustard on the burger. Now this is just totally nuts. Very few people want mustard on a cheeseburger. Why is this automatic? Then there's Wendys. Unless you specifically countermand it, your Wendys burger will have lettuce, tomato, pickle and mayo. Mayo, for Gods sakes.
When someone orders "pizza", does the restaurant feel at liberty to add whatever toppings they want? No. Does someone order "salad" and let the chef decide what kind? No. But apparantly we have all agreed to to just say "burger" and let the establishment slather it with mustard or mayo or whatever else they want. The default burger should be plain, and any additions must be solicited.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Outdoor Restaurant Seating
Sitting outdoors at a restaurant sucks. There are worse things, I grant you. It's not the gulag. But the indoor seating is just indisputably better. Don't argue with me. It's true.
I can see if there's a) no wind, b) no glare from the sun, c) no frequent passing car exhaust fumes, d) a high-70s temperature, e) no insects, f) seating that's comparably comfortable to the indoor seating (i.e. not just metal chairs), and g) no annoying ambient noise, then yes, okay - you have a case for eating outside. But, in the 99% of the time when these ideal conditions won't exist, don't give me the "It's suuuuuuch a beaaaaauuutiful day.... Wouldn't you rather be outdoors?" No. No I wouldn't rather be outdoors. Is there something wrong with that?
See, that's the thing about these people who always want the outdoor table. I'm not allowed to have an indoor-preference. There's this presumption with them that they are in sole possession of the one acceptable preference: eating outside - and anyone who disagrees with them is seriously wrong in the head, and/or is maliciously out to spoil their good time.
I don't get it. It's just not the case that outdoors is always better. "Oh Harold, it's such a beautiful day - let's take a shit outside!" There's this mindset that, I don't know, all indoor activities and indoor living is some kind of tragic compromise, that outdoors is man's natural state. That any experience or task or activity is nicer if it can be done outside. In my opinion it's just the opposite. I think the entire history of human civilization and human endeavor has been one long quest to get indoors. Not to discover truth and God and purpose, but to be able to say "Screw this shit, I'm going inside."
Eating in particular is something that's especially well suited for the indoors. There's just too much little stuff that can get on your nerves at an outdoor table. That glare. Man, the glare. Notice how the person who proposes the outdoor seating always chooses the seat facing away from the glare. They should be obligated to sit into the glare. That should be the price. I mean there's just this unspoken covenant that you can't talk about the glare. That you should just suck it up and be a man. Have you ever tried to eat a plate of pasta when the sun is low in the afternoon sky, square with your shoulders, aimed directly at your face? Do it right now. Go outside and stare at the sun and try to get hungry. It just doesn't work.
And the wind. Ever had to use the condiments or the sugar-pack bowl to weigh something down so it wouldn't blow away? Why am I doing that? Was it worth it to sit out here?
Very occasionally, the outdoor seating is nice. You're on a Caribbean island. It's sunset, there's a terrace overlooking the ocean. The air is fragrant and warm and you can hear the surf. Bring on the sirloin and the twice baked potato. But street level dining at a downtown Chilis? Ever listen up close to a braking bus as it approaches the red light? The ear-splitting whine followed by the high-decibel chugging of the idling carriage? There's a nice sequence of sounds and smells. Oh but I forgot - it's suuuuch a beeauuutiful day.
I can see if there's a) no wind, b) no glare from the sun, c) no frequent passing car exhaust fumes, d) a high-70s temperature, e) no insects, f) seating that's comparably comfortable to the indoor seating (i.e. not just metal chairs), and g) no annoying ambient noise, then yes, okay - you have a case for eating outside. But, in the 99% of the time when these ideal conditions won't exist, don't give me the "It's suuuuuuch a beaaaaauuutiful day.... Wouldn't you rather be outdoors?" No. No I wouldn't rather be outdoors. Is there something wrong with that?
See, that's the thing about these people who always want the outdoor table. I'm not allowed to have an indoor-preference. There's this presumption with them that they are in sole possession of the one acceptable preference: eating outside - and anyone who disagrees with them is seriously wrong in the head, and/or is maliciously out to spoil their good time.
I don't get it. It's just not the case that outdoors is always better. "Oh Harold, it's such a beautiful day - let's take a shit outside!" There's this mindset that, I don't know, all indoor activities and indoor living is some kind of tragic compromise, that outdoors is man's natural state. That any experience or task or activity is nicer if it can be done outside. In my opinion it's just the opposite. I think the entire history of human civilization and human endeavor has been one long quest to get indoors. Not to discover truth and God and purpose, but to be able to say "Screw this shit, I'm going inside."
Eating in particular is something that's especially well suited for the indoors. There's just too much little stuff that can get on your nerves at an outdoor table. That glare. Man, the glare. Notice how the person who proposes the outdoor seating always chooses the seat facing away from the glare. They should be obligated to sit into the glare. That should be the price. I mean there's just this unspoken covenant that you can't talk about the glare. That you should just suck it up and be a man. Have you ever tried to eat a plate of pasta when the sun is low in the afternoon sky, square with your shoulders, aimed directly at your face? Do it right now. Go outside and stare at the sun and try to get hungry. It just doesn't work.
And the wind. Ever had to use the condiments or the sugar-pack bowl to weigh something down so it wouldn't blow away? Why am I doing that? Was it worth it to sit out here?
Very occasionally, the outdoor seating is nice. You're on a Caribbean island. It's sunset, there's a terrace overlooking the ocean. The air is fragrant and warm and you can hear the surf. Bring on the sirloin and the twice baked potato. But street level dining at a downtown Chilis? Ever listen up close to a braking bus as it approaches the red light? The ear-splitting whine followed by the high-decibel chugging of the idling carriage? There's a nice sequence of sounds and smells. Oh but I forgot - it's suuuuch a beeauuutiful day.
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Letting Children Win
I say it's time for this to stop.
The argument is simple. In real life, you lose. When a kid plays with his peers, he will lose. The sports team he roots for will lose. He will play video games and lose. Even when he's doing nothing more than drinking a coke he will play the look-under-the-cap game and lose.
Since the kid is going to have to deal with losing anyway, wouldn't it be a good idea to teach him early on how to cope with it? Learning grace, manners, sportsmanship - learning to be proud of your effort despite losing, all of this should be a priority.
I have a few childhood memories about this stuff. My first memory of losing was when I saw a new box of cheerios in the kitchen. There was some fabulous prize to be won if the card inside the box had the magic number printed on it. I tore open the box and found the card. The numbers were different. I lost. I remember not comprehending it. I didn't think that I was supposed to lose anything. I wondered if my mom had bought the non-winning box by accident.
I also remember a family wiffleball game in the park when I was about 9. My team was far out in front. In fact, we needed just one more out to seal up the win. There were two men on, but my seven-year-old-girl cousin was coming to bat. A ha! The easiest out on their whole bench! She predictably hit a weak dribbler to the mound, and I knew it was all over. I waited on first for the throw. But then my uncle, aunt and parents went into this 3 stooges routine where they deliberately fumbled, bobbled and tripped over each other, failing to collect the ball or pass it to anyone, and meanwhile my cousin was circling the bases. I screamed in agony and shock. Somewhere during this game-winning, in the park wiffleball homerun it dawned on me that my teammates were throwing the game. This merely doubled my incoherent rage. "You're letting her win! You're letting her win!" My cousin and her little friends were jumping for joy and I was on the ground, apoplectic.
This was probably where my opposition to letting kids win got started. In addition to making sure that kids learn how to lose with class, there are other good reasons to bring on your A-game when taking on junior. 1) How is the kid supposed to get better? As a poker player, I can tell you with certainty that one of the best ways to learn is to have your ass handed to you by a table full of superior players. That's what toughens you. Now if you're trying to teach a kid tennis, or chess, or something like that - how's he going to develop his ability if you keep handing him the confidence-building wins?. What about strengthening his intelligence? His tactics and strategy? The only way you can do that is by challenging him.
2) Is there nothing more insufferable than a kid who has never been permitted to lose? Do you really want to be around this whiny load? God forbid something ever goes wrong in his world - out come the waterworks and the tantrum.
In my opinion, the personification of the impulse to let kids win is the Sesame Street character Guy Smiley.
Guy was the game show host muppet. He'd have games like "Name That Shape!" (Yes! A decahedron!) and no matter what happened over the course of the game show, the ending would always be the same. He'd say something like "Well, the judges have totalled the scores... and... YOU ALL WIN!" And at home, at age 6, I'd be sooooo frustrated. "NOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!" Because I wanted, just once, to see a muppet contestant lose on the Guy Smiley show. I was so eager to bask in the schadenfreude of a distraught, crying muppet.
Well, yes, Mr. Hooper died and there were plenty of distraught muppets then. But that was sad. I wanted to relish in the misery of a muppet game show loser. Never happened.
Now you don't want to totally thrash the kid at the game or the sport. You don't have to go overboard. But you don't just give him the win either. If you want him to log in a few wins once in a while to build his confidence, try a game that's mostly luck. Like Yahtzee. The kid will win his fair share of those. (unless he's really a moron)
The argument is simple. In real life, you lose. When a kid plays with his peers, he will lose. The sports team he roots for will lose. He will play video games and lose. Even when he's doing nothing more than drinking a coke he will play the look-under-the-cap game and lose.
Since the kid is going to have to deal with losing anyway, wouldn't it be a good idea to teach him early on how to cope with it? Learning grace, manners, sportsmanship - learning to be proud of your effort despite losing, all of this should be a priority.
I have a few childhood memories about this stuff. My first memory of losing was when I saw a new box of cheerios in the kitchen. There was some fabulous prize to be won if the card inside the box had the magic number printed on it. I tore open the box and found the card. The numbers were different. I lost. I remember not comprehending it. I didn't think that I was supposed to lose anything. I wondered if my mom had bought the non-winning box by accident.
I also remember a family wiffleball game in the park when I was about 9. My team was far out in front. In fact, we needed just one more out to seal up the win. There were two men on, but my seven-year-old-girl cousin was coming to bat. A ha! The easiest out on their whole bench! She predictably hit a weak dribbler to the mound, and I knew it was all over. I waited on first for the throw. But then my uncle, aunt and parents went into this 3 stooges routine where they deliberately fumbled, bobbled and tripped over each other, failing to collect the ball or pass it to anyone, and meanwhile my cousin was circling the bases. I screamed in agony and shock. Somewhere during this game-winning, in the park wiffleball homerun it dawned on me that my teammates were throwing the game. This merely doubled my incoherent rage. "You're letting her win! You're letting her win!" My cousin and her little friends were jumping for joy and I was on the ground, apoplectic.
This was probably where my opposition to letting kids win got started. In addition to making sure that kids learn how to lose with class, there are other good reasons to bring on your A-game when taking on junior. 1) How is the kid supposed to get better? As a poker player, I can tell you with certainty that one of the best ways to learn is to have your ass handed to you by a table full of superior players. That's what toughens you. Now if you're trying to teach a kid tennis, or chess, or something like that - how's he going to develop his ability if you keep handing him the confidence-building wins?. What about strengthening his intelligence? His tactics and strategy? The only way you can do that is by challenging him.
2) Is there nothing more insufferable than a kid who has never been permitted to lose? Do you really want to be around this whiny load? God forbid something ever goes wrong in his world - out come the waterworks and the tantrum.
In my opinion, the personification of the impulse to let kids win is the Sesame Street character Guy Smiley.
Guy was the game show host muppet. He'd have games like "Name That Shape!" (Yes! A decahedron!) and no matter what happened over the course of the game show, the ending would always be the same. He'd say something like "Well, the judges have totalled the scores... and... YOU ALL WIN!" And at home, at age 6, I'd be sooooo frustrated. "NOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!" Because I wanted, just once, to see a muppet contestant lose on the Guy Smiley show. I was so eager to bask in the schadenfreude of a distraught, crying muppet.
Well, yes, Mr. Hooper died and there were plenty of distraught muppets then. But that was sad. I wanted to relish in the misery of a muppet game show loser. Never happened.
Now you don't want to totally thrash the kid at the game or the sport. You don't have to go overboard. But you don't just give him the win either. If you want him to log in a few wins once in a while to build his confidence, try a game that's mostly luck. Like Yahtzee. The kid will win his fair share of those. (unless he's really a moron)
Saturday, October 15, 2005
The "No Bullshit" Line
I have a class this semester on "Service Management", which is maybe one or two evolutionary steps higher than the kind of pablum BS that we had to learn in Management Theory. (Management Theory was the class where we learned how to... talk to people.) There are at least some marginally useful concepts in this class, like how to make lines move quicker.
Now that would be useful to society, wouldn't it? Making lines move quicker. I'm fully on board with that goal. The class is all about automating tasks, upgrading software, taking care of customer's needs at home via computer so that they don't even have to come into the bank, etc.
That's all well and good, but it doesn't get at the root of the real problem that keeps most lines long and glacially paced. It's the idiots, the bewildered and confused, the assholes, the non-English speaking people and their stuttering nephew interpreters, and the conversation-starved elderly. That's the problem.
You're at the post office. You're there to do one of a few quick tasks. Maybe buy a roll of stamps. Maybe have a package weighed and posted. Maybe you got a slip in the mail and you're there to pick up your parcel. Quick and painless. Nothing big. You're maybe fifth in line. But why is it that the line isn't moving? Why has that one woman been at the window since you came in, ten minutes ago? What postal transaction could possibly be taking so long?
Or maybe you're snaking your way through a long airport check-in line. And you just happen to notice that one of the 3 available check-in desks has had the same family standing there talking with the agent the WHOLE time you've been on the line. The whole time. What, like 20 minutes? Why? Isn't the idea that you just step up, present your e-ticket, confirm your flight, check your bag, and take your boarding pass? It's a 2 minute procedure. What else is there?
One more. You live in Las Vegas. You have a $25 casino chip that you want to cash out. You go to the cage. There's a line. The man currently being helped seems to have ID Cards, documents in triplicate, a passport, a credit history, and a paystub out and he's involved in some fiendishly complex negotiation with the cashier. What the fuck is going on?
Ladies and gentlemen, I present my solution: The NO BULLSHIT Line. This would be a dedicated separate line, with an assigned staffperson, reserved for the exclusive use of people who have a bullshit-free transaction. Oooh oooh, and even if you had a bullshit-dense transaction and the NO BULLSHIT line was free, you still couldn't use it.
This is sort of a spiritual successor to the "10 items or less" line, or the "cash only" line, only it's applicable to virtually any business environment. Imagine the scene. You enter the airport. The check-in line is enormous, and what... only 3 desks open? You'll be there forever. But wait, there's virtually nobody waiting at the No Bullshit Line. You approach it. In front of you on the No Bullshit Line is a man, his fat wife and their three, fidgeting children. The family steps up to the counter, and my, do they have a long list of problems. Can they get a seat change on the flight? Do they have enough VISA miles to get an upgrade on the return leg? Speaking of which, we need to change that return day to Sunday. Is there a fee for that? Oh, and little Timmy will be taking a connecting flight by himself next week. Can someone meet him and help him get on the plane?
The agent listens patiently, and finally cuts in. "I'm sorry sir, this line is for No Bullshit transactions only. But don't worry, they'll be able to help you at the regular check in desk."
"But we're already here!"
"I'm so sorry for the inconvenience. May I help the next passenger with a bullshit-free transaction?"
Oh, the satisfaction. The joy. The justice. The look on dad's face as he turns around and contemplates the full line. The departing of what remains of his sprit. His acceptance of the suffering ahead of him. While I step up and conduct my business in exactly one minute - thirty, dad and family trudge off to the main line and get in place behind the man with the caged dog, and the old woman whose head never stops quivering in a circular motion.
And the guy at the casino cage with a limited command of english trying to exchange pesos for dollars. And the woman at the post office who doesn't understand when the clerk says that her box needs to be secured with more tape. And the dude at the ATM who seems to be milking every last drop of functionality out of the ATM's three choices. And the old man at the bank who never likes to get down to business until he's had a 5 minute conversation with the teller. And all the other millions of permutations of people who require special treatment and special attention, they can all step aside, and wait patiently for their turn to occupy someone's time with their bullshit.
The soup nazi had it right. Give me a line where something quick and simple can just get done. Give me a fast, convenient experience - one commensurate with the simplicity of my errand. Put me and those like me on a separate track.
P.S. We could at least start by enforcing the rules we already have. How often do you see a checkout person at the supermarket actually enforce the 10-items-or-less rule? Never. Wouldn't it be nice to actually see an offender kicked out into the normal line?
Now that would be useful to society, wouldn't it? Making lines move quicker. I'm fully on board with that goal. The class is all about automating tasks, upgrading software, taking care of customer's needs at home via computer so that they don't even have to come into the bank, etc.
That's all well and good, but it doesn't get at the root of the real problem that keeps most lines long and glacially paced. It's the idiots, the bewildered and confused, the assholes, the non-English speaking people and their stuttering nephew interpreters, and the conversation-starved elderly. That's the problem.
You're at the post office. You're there to do one of a few quick tasks. Maybe buy a roll of stamps. Maybe have a package weighed and posted. Maybe you got a slip in the mail and you're there to pick up your parcel. Quick and painless. Nothing big. You're maybe fifth in line. But why is it that the line isn't moving? Why has that one woman been at the window since you came in, ten minutes ago? What postal transaction could possibly be taking so long?
Or maybe you're snaking your way through a long airport check-in line. And you just happen to notice that one of the 3 available check-in desks has had the same family standing there talking with the agent the WHOLE time you've been on the line. The whole time. What, like 20 minutes? Why? Isn't the idea that you just step up, present your e-ticket, confirm your flight, check your bag, and take your boarding pass? It's a 2 minute procedure. What else is there?
One more. You live in Las Vegas. You have a $25 casino chip that you want to cash out. You go to the cage. There's a line. The man currently being helped seems to have ID Cards, documents in triplicate, a passport, a credit history, and a paystub out and he's involved in some fiendishly complex negotiation with the cashier. What the fuck is going on?
Ladies and gentlemen, I present my solution: The NO BULLSHIT Line. This would be a dedicated separate line, with an assigned staffperson, reserved for the exclusive use of people who have a bullshit-free transaction. Oooh oooh, and even if you had a bullshit-dense transaction and the NO BULLSHIT line was free, you still couldn't use it.
This is sort of a spiritual successor to the "10 items or less" line, or the "cash only" line, only it's applicable to virtually any business environment. Imagine the scene. You enter the airport. The check-in line is enormous, and what... only 3 desks open? You'll be there forever. But wait, there's virtually nobody waiting at the No Bullshit Line. You approach it. In front of you on the No Bullshit Line is a man, his fat wife and their three, fidgeting children. The family steps up to the counter, and my, do they have a long list of problems. Can they get a seat change on the flight? Do they have enough VISA miles to get an upgrade on the return leg? Speaking of which, we need to change that return day to Sunday. Is there a fee for that? Oh, and little Timmy will be taking a connecting flight by himself next week. Can someone meet him and help him get on the plane?
The agent listens patiently, and finally cuts in. "I'm sorry sir, this line is for No Bullshit transactions only. But don't worry, they'll be able to help you at the regular check in desk."
"But we're already here!"
"I'm so sorry for the inconvenience. May I help the next passenger with a bullshit-free transaction?"
Oh, the satisfaction. The joy. The justice. The look on dad's face as he turns around and contemplates the full line. The departing of what remains of his sprit. His acceptance of the suffering ahead of him. While I step up and conduct my business in exactly one minute - thirty, dad and family trudge off to the main line and get in place behind the man with the caged dog, and the old woman whose head never stops quivering in a circular motion.
And the guy at the casino cage with a limited command of english trying to exchange pesos for dollars. And the woman at the post office who doesn't understand when the clerk says that her box needs to be secured with more tape. And the dude at the ATM who seems to be milking every last drop of functionality out of the ATM's three choices. And the old man at the bank who never likes to get down to business until he's had a 5 minute conversation with the teller. And all the other millions of permutations of people who require special treatment and special attention, they can all step aside, and wait patiently for their turn to occupy someone's time with their bullshit.
The soup nazi had it right. Give me a line where something quick and simple can just get done. Give me a fast, convenient experience - one commensurate with the simplicity of my errand. Put me and those like me on a separate track.
P.S. We could at least start by enforcing the rules we already have. How often do you see a checkout person at the supermarket actually enforce the 10-items-or-less rule? Never. Wouldn't it be nice to actually see an offender kicked out into the normal line?
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Bulletin
Saw my first Christmas commercial last night, October 11th. This may be a new record. It was for Carnival Cruises. Let's all do a good deed now and never take a Carnival Cruise.
Saturday, October 08, 2005
Potpourri 4
Requesting an End to the Conversation
Here's a longstanding pet peeve I have. It's when you tell the person on the other end of the phone that you have to go because something is unexpectedly demanding your immediate attention, and the other person just doesn't get it and keeps the conversation going. Examples:
1. You: "Oh, hey - pizza guy's here. I gotta go."
Other person: "Oh yeah? Pizza? That sounds good! What kinda pizza?"
2. You: "Oh, okay - gotta hang up - the movie's starting."
Other person: "All right. But hey, before you go, what are we doing on Friday?"
3. You: "Oh, hey - that's my dad on the other line - I gotta go."
Other person: "Yeah? Hey how is your dad by the way?"
This really pisses me off. This is a simple cue to get off the phone. Obvious, perfectly commonplace, perfectly understandable. And your friend ignores it. More than once I've been tempted to just stop everything, ignore whatever it is that's pulling me off the phone, and just give my complete attention to the caller, confronting him squarely about his failure to let me off the phone, engaging him in lengthy conversation about it, refusing to change the subject, until I've reduced him to whimpering and tears.
There is only one response to "X just happened, I have to go." and it's "Oh! Okay! Talk to you later." That's it. You either say that sentence, or you are an ass. Maybe there'd be an exception if your caller could somehow trump your emergency with something even more important, but that would be rare.
Orange Juice Commercials Posing as Public Service Announcements
We're all familiar with ads from the Beef Board or the American Dairy Council, where they promote, uh, beef. And dairy. It's all good. I like a nonspecific commercial for "beef". "Beef, it's what's for dinner." That's nice. All commercials should be like that. "Slippers. Warm, comfortable - go out and get a pair." ... "Paper. You know you need more." etc.
But the orange juice people have gone too far. The one thing you're not supposed to do with these ads is get brand specific. What the juice people do is make it look like it's some kind of health department public service announcement. They have a smooth voiced announcer telling you about rising cholesterol and the risks of an unhealthy diet and lack of exercise. In the background are jogging people and heartbeat-monitor graphics and lab coat types holding test tubes, and it looks very official. And then they get to the point. "Studies have shown that drinking a glass of Minute Maid orange juice every day lowers cholesterol, blood pressure, and the risk of heart disease."
Hold the phone. Who gives a damn what brand of orange juice it is? Were the "studies" brand specific? Did the studies show that if you drank Tropicana orange juice instead then you were "Screwed, man. Screwed."
Now if it was an explicit Minute Maid juice ad then I wouldn't care. But this thing is masquarading as some kind of objective health announcement. The first 15 seconds of this ad had me convinced that this doctor really cared about me and my cholesterol. I was ready to take his advice. But no doctor telling you to drink orange juice would mention a brand preference. He's giving the game away. He's not a doctor, he's a Minute Maid house monkey.
The Minute Maid ad is fairly new. For years it was "Pure Florida Orange Juice", leaving me wondering why it was so important that the oranges come from Florida. Trying to make it sound like there was no health benefit unless it was a Florida orange. Bah!
What the Hell is This Thing?
I mean, I've seen this object dozens of times in commercials my whole life. Apparantly its purpose is to gently apply small dollops of honey to things. Has this thing ever been spotted in real life? Does a person buy one of these when he's not satisfied with just spooning honey into his oatmeal - he feels the need to turn it into a slow, fetish-like ritual? I think we need Martha Stewart to settle this one.
Monday, October 03, 2005
The International Star Registry
Hmm.. it seems I'm a little late on this one.
I was ready to rip the International Star Registry a new one and call them all kinds of names, but a whole lot of people have beat me to it, it appears, and now the ISR has bowed in complete submission and surrender.
This was the situation. Back in high school, I heard about this great gift idea. For about 40 or 50 bucks, you could actually name a star. The are millions of catalogued stars out there, most of them with just numerical designations and coordinates, so the international astronomy community could raise a little money by selling people the right to name them. What a cool idea! How awesome would it be to name an actual star? I could just imagine some future colony in a spaceship approaching my star, consulting their ancient charts, saying "Captain, it appears we're approaching the Dagobah system, in the Asshat cluster..."
And of course let's not forget the massive points one would earn naming a star after your sweetheart. You wouldn't have to lift a finger for the rest of the day, I can promise you that.
So here was this great idea, and I was ready with my wallet open to start naming stars left and right. And then I found out the truth. The truth is that the International Star Registry is just a private commerical organization with absolutely no authority to name anything after anybody. No authority whatsoever. It's just a couple of guys in an office. Their website was a masterpiece of deception. They didn't technically lie. They said things like:
"The name of your star will be registered and copywritten."
(Well, if by register, you mean "written down", then yes.)
"It will be published in the annual journal of astronomical names and designations."
(It was some book that they published themselves. It carried no additional meaning.)
"You will receive a signed certificate and a star chart with the position of your star indicated."
(Yup. They certainly would send you those things.)
Every choice of word and phrase was calculated to make it appear that this was official and legit, while at the same time cautiously avoiding any outright falsehood. It was clear that the International Star Registry business model depended entirely on deception. People would only buy a Star from ISR if they could be made to believe that ISR was offering something that it wasn't.
This cuts right to the core of things I despise the most. This is as bad as Digimon. For a while I would rant to whoever would listen about the ISR fake-out and how they were preying on innocent sentiment to make a quick buck.
But apparantly there have been some developments. I googled the ISR and came up with a lot of warnings from consumers, astronomers, all sorts of people - cautioning people about the scam. I also found a cease and desist type letter from the city of New York. http://www.enzerink.net/peter/astronomy/starfaq/isr_news.html
So then I went and checked the ISR website itself. Whoa nelly has it changed its tune! It's totally different now. They're no longer trying to fake you out. Now they're explicit that it's just a fun, make-believe gesture. What a 180! Go and see yourself.
http://www.starregistry.com/
At the bottom is their little, sad disclaimer. "International Star Registry star naming is not recognized by the scientific community. Your star’s name is reserved in Internatnal Star Registry records only." (Internatnal?) On the "About Us" page, they make plain that it's all just for fun. Ha ha! Up yours, International Star Registry!
So that's a little victory for the good guys huh? On a side note, I found out while doing this research that Nicole Kidman bought a star and named it "Forever Tom". Jesus. If you really were under the impression that you were giving a star a permanent name, could you please not make future generations heave and puke? (I'm guessing also it was a really small star that hung around even smaller astronomical objects to look big by comparison.)
I was ready to rip the International Star Registry a new one and call them all kinds of names, but a whole lot of people have beat me to it, it appears, and now the ISR has bowed in complete submission and surrender.
This was the situation. Back in high school, I heard about this great gift idea. For about 40 or 50 bucks, you could actually name a star. The are millions of catalogued stars out there, most of them with just numerical designations and coordinates, so the international astronomy community could raise a little money by selling people the right to name them. What a cool idea! How awesome would it be to name an actual star? I could just imagine some future colony in a spaceship approaching my star, consulting their ancient charts, saying "Captain, it appears we're approaching the Dagobah system, in the Asshat cluster..."
And of course let's not forget the massive points one would earn naming a star after your sweetheart. You wouldn't have to lift a finger for the rest of the day, I can promise you that.
So here was this great idea, and I was ready with my wallet open to start naming stars left and right. And then I found out the truth. The truth is that the International Star Registry is just a private commerical organization with absolutely no authority to name anything after anybody. No authority whatsoever. It's just a couple of guys in an office. Their website was a masterpiece of deception. They didn't technically lie. They said things like:
"The name of your star will be registered and copywritten."
(Well, if by register, you mean "written down", then yes.)
"It will be published in the annual journal of astronomical names and designations."
(It was some book that they published themselves. It carried no additional meaning.)
"You will receive a signed certificate and a star chart with the position of your star indicated."
(Yup. They certainly would send you those things.)
Every choice of word and phrase was calculated to make it appear that this was official and legit, while at the same time cautiously avoiding any outright falsehood. It was clear that the International Star Registry business model depended entirely on deception. People would only buy a Star from ISR if they could be made to believe that ISR was offering something that it wasn't.
This cuts right to the core of things I despise the most. This is as bad as Digimon. For a while I would rant to whoever would listen about the ISR fake-out and how they were preying on innocent sentiment to make a quick buck.
But apparantly there have been some developments. I googled the ISR and came up with a lot of warnings from consumers, astronomers, all sorts of people - cautioning people about the scam. I also found a cease and desist type letter from the city of New York. http://www.enzerink.net/peter/astronomy/starfaq/isr_news.html
So then I went and checked the ISR website itself. Whoa nelly has it changed its tune! It's totally different now. They're no longer trying to fake you out. Now they're explicit that it's just a fun, make-believe gesture. What a 180! Go and see yourself.
http://www.starregistry.com/
At the bottom is their little, sad disclaimer. "International Star Registry star naming is not recognized by the scientific community. Your star’s name is reserved in Internatnal Star Registry records only." (Internatnal?) On the "About Us" page, they make plain that it's all just for fun. Ha ha! Up yours, International Star Registry!
So that's a little victory for the good guys huh? On a side note, I found out while doing this research that Nicole Kidman bought a star and named it "Forever Tom". Jesus. If you really were under the impression that you were giving a star a permanent name, could you please not make future generations heave and puke? (I'm guessing also it was a really small star that hung around even smaller astronomical objects to look big by comparison.)
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Duke Nukem Forever
This is about Duke Nukem. If you don't care (and really, who does?) then skip.
DNF is a videogame that's been in production, full time, since 1998. It was sort of in production even before that - I know one magazine posted screenshots in December '97. DNF was (is / will be) the sequel to Duke Nukem 3D, a popular PC shooter.
I was a fan of Duke 3D. The gameplay was tight. It had a blend of humor, action and scares that worked well. It had plenty of secrets. Most first person shooters are all about multiplayer; Duke's focus was on the one-player game, and the story and scenarios were crafted well to reflect that. ... Of course, we're talking 1996 here. You wouldn't play it now. Unless maybe you were bored and in a VH1-ey kind of mood.
Videogames generally take about 2 years to develop. From greenlighting the project to mass production, it's about 2 years. Plenty of games take longer, and some less time - and historically the process has been quicker. I speak as someone who worked for a console game publsher for 4 years and watched it happen. Two years is industry standard.
What this post is about is making the following case: 1) 7-10 years of development for a videogame is completely unacceptable, from the point of view of anyone - a good-faith fan, a developer with any self respect, a shareholder of Take-Two Interactive. (Duke's corporate paymaster) - anyone. 2) 3D Realms' (Duke's developer) lofty and dismissive and sneering attitude toward anyone saying "Where's the game?" is nothing but obnoxious jackassery. It's the worst kind of arrogance - unjustified arrogance. And 3) That Duke Nukem Forever (when we finally see it) cannot possibly be any good. It is destined to fail.
Let me start by mentioning a guy named Arthur Laffer. He's the economist who famously drew the "Laffer Curve" on the back of a cocktail napkin. The conventional wisdom at that time was that if the government needed more money, it had to raise taxes. Higher tax rates, more money. Let's look at a graph, shall we?
Laffer's insight was to realize something obvious. Once taxes got too high, they would start having an impact on the amount of time people were willing to work. The more government takes out of your pocket, the more they're responsible for providing for your needs. At truly high tax rates people wouldn't work at all. Why work if the government takes 90 cents from every dollar? Better to stay home and let government provide for you. Laffer drew this curve.
His point was that in a situation where taxes were high already but the government still needed more money, it might be better off lowering taxes to get more tax revenue.
It was a wacky concept, but today it's accepted as pretty much the truth. Now why am I bringing this up? I think Laffer would have had a lot to say about Duke Nukem Forever. Consider the relationship between the time a game takes to develop, and its eventual quality. I think the conventional wisdom might lead to a graph like this.
A straight line. Makes sense. The more time you invest in making a game, the better it gets. If you rush a game out the door early, it's going to be bad. Take longer, it gets better.
But then again, maybe that's not the full picture. Maybe it really looks like this.
A sloping curve. A curve with decreasing returns. This makes a little more sense. During the first year or two of development you make great strides. But after many years of development, you approach the limits of how good the game can get. The team is only so talented, there's only so much money, you can only have so much content and so much fine tuning and balancing. So in the long run, quality starts to flatten out.
But this curve is also wrong. I'm here to introduce my own curve, Laffer style. This is what game quality really looks like over time.
It eventually declines, and finally plummets. Now this has to seem counterintuitive. After all, nobody goes to work and makes the game worse. Nobody sabotages art and animation. They work on the game and try to make it better. The problem is that at some point, this becomes as hopeless a job as bailing out the sinking Titanic with a pail. There are other, powerful forces at work; forces that are working nonstop, 24/7, inexorably, to make the game irrelevant and obsolete. These forces cannot be slowed down. With every passing day, Duke Nukem Forever gets less innovative and less pretty. It's gets less technologically impresive and less exciting to play.
It's like some guy with a beard down to his knees bursting out of a basement door saying "Finally! It's done! My sequel to Gyromite! It's taken 20 years, but I wouldn't compromise - it had to be perfect! It's the best NES game of all time!!!" After a certain point, no matter how skilled a game developer you are, your work in progress will be overtaken by the forces of obsolescence and it will be ruined.
But it's more than that. With every day the fanbase shrinks, the number of people who remember Duke 3D in any detail get fewer, the number of people interested in Duke declines, the value of the overall franchise starts to crumble. With no new product, and a mums-the-word policy from the developer, people forget Duke.
Plus, doesn't an eight year delay suggest, just maybe, that these aren't the smartest bunch of guys? Am I supposed to think they can make a good game when they've shown staggering incompetence in the planning of the making of the game?
Now, Duke bought itself some time (staving off obsolescence) by restarting the project with the Unreal Tournament engine in 2001. It threw out what it had so far and started from scratch with a more powerful foundation. Maybe that was a smart idea. But it was an idea with a fatal flaw. The idea presumes that you have the team, the resources and the skill to actually complete the game in about two years. If you can't do it by then, then guess what? You have another game that's nowhere near done and is approaching technological obsolescence. What are you going to do now? Start over a third time?
And then there are the rising expectations. The more time the game is in utero, the more we expect from it. DNF has been in production, full time, for 8 years? What does a game that took 8 years to make look like? What wonders will it contain? Now, if Shigeru Miyamoto retreated to a mountainside cabin for 8 years, cutting himself off from the world, monk-like, and devoted the time to crafting some exquisite new game of his own invention, well then now THAT would be a game worth an eight year wait. That game would blow your mind.
But head-up-his-ass, God-complexed, Hostess-snack-eating pompous asshole George Broussard is not Miyamoto. And Duke Nukem is not King Lear. It's a standard FPS that uses T&A and one-liners to distinguish itself in the crowded FPS marketplace. Or, rather, it did. In 1996. This middling franchise has earned 8 years to make its next game? Why? On what grounds? And its crack development staff is so gifted that we must not disturb their genius? We're not allowed to ask how it's coming along? Who else gets this priviledge? Why Duke?
Oh, you didn't know about the 3D Realms attitude about handling DNF inquiries? No questions are allowed. Broussard answers to no one. Not even the CEO of Take Two, his publisher. The CEO, Jeff Lapin, was fielding questions during a stockholder's meeting and was asked what the story was with Duke. All Lapin said was that he suspected it wouldn't be done in time for a 2003 release. (A sensible statement, considering it's 2005 and there's still no sign of the game). Broussard's response (in an internet forum) was that Lapin needs to "STFU, imo". Consider that. Not only is George telling the CEO of his corporate parent to shut the fuck up, but he's doing so in his capacity as lead designer of videogaming history's most failed project. The game industry's perrenial laughingstock. The game that was given not just the Vaporware game of the year award, but a Vaporware Lifetime Achievement Award. Where does one get the balls? Perhaps from the same place one gets the ability to take a franchise like Duke and steer it down into a mountain.
Here's what's going to happen when DNF finally sees the light of day. It will temporarily benefit from the increase in buzz and attention that comes from being a game that was in development for 10 years. Duke's marketers will misattribute this attention as being a reflection of genuine enthusiasm for the game, which it won't be, and this will send them into an overdrive of superlatives - claiming Duke is the most covered game of the year, the most talked about, the most anticipated, etc.
The game will debut to reviews that will be unfairly negative. The urge to compare it to other delayed failures like Daikatana and to continue the 10 year habit of mocking it will be too strong. So it won't get a truly fair shake. But the reality is that it will be a passable next-gen Duke entry, not too weak, not too strong. But it will not blow any minds, and nothing about it will justify its gestation time. On this score alone it will be considered a great failure. Other shooters (made in normal spans of time) that are as good or better than DNF will come out both quickly before and quickly after Duke, further underlining how unecessary the 10 years were. The erosion of the fan base will have taken its toll, and this will be reflected in sales. Only about 5 guys worldwide are going to laugh at those scripted moments in the game that are tongue in cheek references to earlier Duke adventures.
The game won't recoup costs, and the franchise will not recover. And so now, finally, after years of patience, I say goodbye to Duke. I've been a fan all this time. I've waited. My hopes were high. But it's over. DNF will not deliver.
It's time to forget about Duke, move on, and chew bubble gum. And I'm all out of gum.
DNF is a videogame that's been in production, full time, since 1998. It was sort of in production even before that - I know one magazine posted screenshots in December '97. DNF was (is / will be) the sequel to Duke Nukem 3D, a popular PC shooter.
I was a fan of Duke 3D. The gameplay was tight. It had a blend of humor, action and scares that worked well. It had plenty of secrets. Most first person shooters are all about multiplayer; Duke's focus was on the one-player game, and the story and scenarios were crafted well to reflect that. ... Of course, we're talking 1996 here. You wouldn't play it now. Unless maybe you were bored and in a VH1-ey kind of mood.
Videogames generally take about 2 years to develop. From greenlighting the project to mass production, it's about 2 years. Plenty of games take longer, and some less time - and historically the process has been quicker. I speak as someone who worked for a console game publsher for 4 years and watched it happen. Two years is industry standard.
What this post is about is making the following case: 1) 7-10 years of development for a videogame is completely unacceptable, from the point of view of anyone - a good-faith fan, a developer with any self respect, a shareholder of Take-Two Interactive. (Duke's corporate paymaster) - anyone. 2) 3D Realms' (Duke's developer) lofty and dismissive and sneering attitude toward anyone saying "Where's the game?" is nothing but obnoxious jackassery. It's the worst kind of arrogance - unjustified arrogance. And 3) That Duke Nukem Forever (when we finally see it) cannot possibly be any good. It is destined to fail.
Let me start by mentioning a guy named Arthur Laffer. He's the economist who famously drew the "Laffer Curve" on the back of a cocktail napkin. The conventional wisdom at that time was that if the government needed more money, it had to raise taxes. Higher tax rates, more money. Let's look at a graph, shall we?
Laffer's insight was to realize something obvious. Once taxes got too high, they would start having an impact on the amount of time people were willing to work. The more government takes out of your pocket, the more they're responsible for providing for your needs. At truly high tax rates people wouldn't work at all. Why work if the government takes 90 cents from every dollar? Better to stay home and let government provide for you. Laffer drew this curve.
His point was that in a situation where taxes were high already but the government still needed more money, it might be better off lowering taxes to get more tax revenue.
It was a wacky concept, but today it's accepted as pretty much the truth. Now why am I bringing this up? I think Laffer would have had a lot to say about Duke Nukem Forever. Consider the relationship between the time a game takes to develop, and its eventual quality. I think the conventional wisdom might lead to a graph like this.
A straight line. Makes sense. The more time you invest in making a game, the better it gets. If you rush a game out the door early, it's going to be bad. Take longer, it gets better.
But then again, maybe that's not the full picture. Maybe it really looks like this.
A sloping curve. A curve with decreasing returns. This makes a little more sense. During the first year or two of development you make great strides. But after many years of development, you approach the limits of how good the game can get. The team is only so talented, there's only so much money, you can only have so much content and so much fine tuning and balancing. So in the long run, quality starts to flatten out.
But this curve is also wrong. I'm here to introduce my own curve, Laffer style. This is what game quality really looks like over time.
It eventually declines, and finally plummets. Now this has to seem counterintuitive. After all, nobody goes to work and makes the game worse. Nobody sabotages art and animation. They work on the game and try to make it better. The problem is that at some point, this becomes as hopeless a job as bailing out the sinking Titanic with a pail. There are other, powerful forces at work; forces that are working nonstop, 24/7, inexorably, to make the game irrelevant and obsolete. These forces cannot be slowed down. With every passing day, Duke Nukem Forever gets less innovative and less pretty. It's gets less technologically impresive and less exciting to play.
It's like some guy with a beard down to his knees bursting out of a basement door saying "Finally! It's done! My sequel to Gyromite! It's taken 20 years, but I wouldn't compromise - it had to be perfect! It's the best NES game of all time!!!" After a certain point, no matter how skilled a game developer you are, your work in progress will be overtaken by the forces of obsolescence and it will be ruined.
But it's more than that. With every day the fanbase shrinks, the number of people who remember Duke 3D in any detail get fewer, the number of people interested in Duke declines, the value of the overall franchise starts to crumble. With no new product, and a mums-the-word policy from the developer, people forget Duke.
Plus, doesn't an eight year delay suggest, just maybe, that these aren't the smartest bunch of guys? Am I supposed to think they can make a good game when they've shown staggering incompetence in the planning of the making of the game?
Now, Duke bought itself some time (staving off obsolescence) by restarting the project with the Unreal Tournament engine in 2001. It threw out what it had so far and started from scratch with a more powerful foundation. Maybe that was a smart idea. But it was an idea with a fatal flaw. The idea presumes that you have the team, the resources and the skill to actually complete the game in about two years. If you can't do it by then, then guess what? You have another game that's nowhere near done and is approaching technological obsolescence. What are you going to do now? Start over a third time?
And then there are the rising expectations. The more time the game is in utero, the more we expect from it. DNF has been in production, full time, for 8 years? What does a game that took 8 years to make look like? What wonders will it contain? Now, if Shigeru Miyamoto retreated to a mountainside cabin for 8 years, cutting himself off from the world, monk-like, and devoted the time to crafting some exquisite new game of his own invention, well then now THAT would be a game worth an eight year wait. That game would blow your mind.
But head-up-his-ass, God-complexed, Hostess-snack-eating pompous asshole George Broussard is not Miyamoto. And Duke Nukem is not King Lear. It's a standard FPS that uses T&A and one-liners to distinguish itself in the crowded FPS marketplace. Or, rather, it did. In 1996. This middling franchise has earned 8 years to make its next game? Why? On what grounds? And its crack development staff is so gifted that we must not disturb their genius? We're not allowed to ask how it's coming along? Who else gets this priviledge? Why Duke?
Oh, you didn't know about the 3D Realms attitude about handling DNF inquiries? No questions are allowed. Broussard answers to no one. Not even the CEO of Take Two, his publisher. The CEO, Jeff Lapin, was fielding questions during a stockholder's meeting and was asked what the story was with Duke. All Lapin said was that he suspected it wouldn't be done in time for a 2003 release. (A sensible statement, considering it's 2005 and there's still no sign of the game). Broussard's response (in an internet forum) was that Lapin needs to "STFU, imo". Consider that. Not only is George telling the CEO of his corporate parent to shut the fuck up, but he's doing so in his capacity as lead designer of videogaming history's most failed project. The game industry's perrenial laughingstock. The game that was given not just the Vaporware game of the year award, but a Vaporware Lifetime Achievement Award. Where does one get the balls? Perhaps from the same place one gets the ability to take a franchise like Duke and steer it down into a mountain.
Here's what's going to happen when DNF finally sees the light of day. It will temporarily benefit from the increase in buzz and attention that comes from being a game that was in development for 10 years. Duke's marketers will misattribute this attention as being a reflection of genuine enthusiasm for the game, which it won't be, and this will send them into an overdrive of superlatives - claiming Duke is the most covered game of the year, the most talked about, the most anticipated, etc.
The game will debut to reviews that will be unfairly negative. The urge to compare it to other delayed failures like Daikatana and to continue the 10 year habit of mocking it will be too strong. So it won't get a truly fair shake. But the reality is that it will be a passable next-gen Duke entry, not too weak, not too strong. But it will not blow any minds, and nothing about it will justify its gestation time. On this score alone it will be considered a great failure. Other shooters (made in normal spans of time) that are as good or better than DNF will come out both quickly before and quickly after Duke, further underlining how unecessary the 10 years were. The erosion of the fan base will have taken its toll, and this will be reflected in sales. Only about 5 guys worldwide are going to laugh at those scripted moments in the game that are tongue in cheek references to earlier Duke adventures.
The game won't recoup costs, and the franchise will not recover. And so now, finally, after years of patience, I say goodbye to Duke. I've been a fan all this time. I've waited. My hopes were high. But it's over. DNF will not deliver.
It's time to forget about Duke, move on, and chew bubble gum. And I'm all out of gum.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Dr. Laura
I am so sick of this woman.
In Vegas, our radio afternoon-talk options are pretty limited. Dr. Laura is on the most prominent talk station, and she's on every weekday from noon to 3, which is the time when I'm most likely to be on the road. It's either her, a stock program or a sports program - slim pickings. Again and again, driven to choose one of these three choices out of boredom, I end up saying "Well, I'll give Dr. Laura one more chance." I always regret it.
Let me expose Dr. Laura's one trick. Becuase, it IS just one trick. Here goes:
People call in with personal problems: relationship problems and family problems. The problems range from fairly minor tiffs to "my children just died in a fire" and everything in between. Dr. Laura listens, diagnoses, and advocates a course of action. The caller wipes away a tear and says "Thanks, Dr. Laura." Goodbye. Next caller. Okay. Dr. Laura's technique is to take any situation and make it conform to a preconceived 3-act story of problem/personal growth/resolution.
Dudn't matter what the problem is! Could be any problem at all! She's performing a magic trick - the same trick, over and over. The thing about these callers is, their problems are usually fairly complex; they're layered, they have shades of gray, they involve years of relationship history, they involve deep-seated behavioral patterns and psychological turmoil. These aren't simple problems with simple solutions. But Dr. Laura will take this problem, interrupt the caller as soon as she has heard enough of it to put it in one of her standard pigeonholes, and perform the magic trick. The magic trick is that surprise! Your problem is really quite simple! See, in the Dr. Laura philosophy, there are only about eight problems. There's the woman who's getting stepped on and has to assert herself. There's the lazy, weak woman who's shirking her obligation to God and husband. There's the woman who's boyfriend has some bad habit and needs to be given an ultimatum. There's the man who needs a wakeup call that his childrens' welfare is paramount and all other concerns are secondary. And a few others I might be forgetting. Once Dr. Laura has established which of the eight problems she is currently dealing with, she can cut off the caller - his role is over. Now the story proceeds to its climax. The caller knows she is being stepped on / abused, she knows it! Furthermore, she knows what she has to do! Why are we even wasting Dr. Laura's time with something so obvious? All that's left is a tearful acknowledgement from the caller that Dr. Laura hit the nail on the head, and it's another one in the books.
Dan Savage, who writes Savage Love, also has this kind of kick-in-the-pants, tough love style of advice giving. He'll tell it to you straight and he won't mince words. There won't be any sensitive preamble, and he won't be delicate. But Dan Savage is also capable of changing gears and acknowledging a difficult, complex question with no clear answers. He'll sometimes change his mind. He'll post responses from readers and experts who weigh in with divergent opinions. He's quick to say "Dump the Motherfucker Already" but he's equally likely to see a gray area and seek compromise. When have you ever heard Dr. Laura talk about compromise?
See, Dan is thoughtful. Dr. Laura is a parlour show. The people who admire Dr. Laura do so because of the one trick: here was a problem that seemed terrifyingly complex, but as it turns out it was really quite simple. Only Dr. Laura could have cut through all that underbrush to expose the real problem. She's amazing.
Is it normal to listen to a relationship advice program and find yourself violently disagreeing with the expert advice? Here are a few standard Dr. Laura concepts that just seem dangerously wrong to me.
1) If you're not in love with your husband anymore, what you should do is pretend that you love him... go through all the motions of loving him... in every way act the same way you would act if you really did love him. Then, in time, the love will return.
Me: Huh? How does that work exactly? What if there's some actual *reason* that the woman doesn't love her husband anymore, beyond the possibility that she's lazy and weak and is ignoring her duty and promise to God to love him always? You know, what if there is some actual *problem* with the marriage? Do you think maybe that's worth exploring? Nah.
2) Even though you love him, you should dump your boyfriend. He's a drunk (or a liar, or a cheater, or a gambler, or whatever) and people never change. Time to move on.
Me: Of course people can change you miserable shrew. Don't want to get sidetracked here, but when Dr. Laura was making her moral argument against homosexuality, wasn't the idea that men are naturally beastial and weak and lustful and somewhat savage and that it takes the love of a woman to temper man's sinful nature? This argument was making the rounds for a while. So that's why homosexuality is ultimately futile - because a man without the guidance and temperance of a woman's influence will always be a savage. How does that jive with Dr. Laura's frequent conclusion that errant men are incapable of change and should be abandoned? If the woman loves him, can't she work on him? Can't she help him? Shouldn't she "temper" him like she's supposed to? Why the contradiction?
And how about Dr. Laura's supremely condescending manner toward every caller? Dr. Laura is never, ever happy until she's made it clear that you're five years old and gotten you to admit it too. I think this is tied in with "the trick". Dr. Laura is the great simplifier of problems. She needs you to admit that you've been foolish, carrying on as if your problem had any nuance to it, any hint of a third dimension. You child. You ass. Don't you see how black and white it really is? Why are you hesitating? Kick him out and change the lock. Of course you go pick him up from the airport. She absolutely cannot get an earring.
You know, Judge Judy can get away with an attitude like that. She's talking to people who have broken laws and and misbehaved in a variety of ways. Maybe they need a little Judge-Judy dose of stern authority. But the people who are calling in to Dr. Laura are good, decent people who are doing something difficult - reaching out for help with the most personal kinds of problems. Seeking help of this kind is itself a gesture of humility. These people don't deserve to be ridiculed and belittled. Like your low level supervisor always reminding you that he's the boss, it's cruel and cheap for Dr. Laura to always squeeze every last drop of superiority that her radio-doctor position affords her.
Here, for your convenience, is every on-air Dr. Laura conversation that ever happened, condensed into about one page.
"Hi Dr. Laura, thanks for taking my call."
"How can I help you Denise."
"Well............ it's my boyfriend. He's been living with me for about a year...."
"How old are you?"
"I'm thirty six.... He was injured on the job last March.... He works for the Coast Guard...."
"How old is he?"
"He's my age.... He lost the use of his legs..."
"Denise....."
"And he gets around in a power chair....."
"Denise....."
"Yes?"
"Did I ask you if he was your age? I asked how old he was."
"I'm sorry Dr. Laura. He's thirty six."
"Okay, go on."
"He gets around just fine, and he hasn't really lost any of his independence. It's just that.... well... he's not the same man he used to be."
"Denise..."
"He doesn't seem interested in staying active..."
"Denise...."
"Yes?"
"Denise, what is your question."
"Well... okay... see we used to do everything together, but lately he always finds an excuse..."
"Denise you haven't heard me. What is your question?"
"What should I do Dr. Laura?"
"Do you have children?"
"No."
"Denise, he is either going to have to change his attitude in a hurry, and I mean soon, or he is going to lose you."
(silence)
"You know what the right thing to do is, don't you Denise."
"(sniffle). Yes."
"He is either going to rediscover his joy in life or he can be miserable all by himself."
"(sniffle). Yes."
"But he is not going to drag you down with him."
"(wipes a tear) Thank you Dr. Laura."
In Vegas, our radio afternoon-talk options are pretty limited. Dr. Laura is on the most prominent talk station, and she's on every weekday from noon to 3, which is the time when I'm most likely to be on the road. It's either her, a stock program or a sports program - slim pickings. Again and again, driven to choose one of these three choices out of boredom, I end up saying "Well, I'll give Dr. Laura one more chance." I always regret it.
Let me expose Dr. Laura's one trick. Becuase, it IS just one trick. Here goes:
People call in with personal problems: relationship problems and family problems. The problems range from fairly minor tiffs to "my children just died in a fire" and everything in between. Dr. Laura listens, diagnoses, and advocates a course of action. The caller wipes away a tear and says "Thanks, Dr. Laura." Goodbye. Next caller. Okay. Dr. Laura's technique is to take any situation and make it conform to a preconceived 3-act story of problem/personal growth/resolution.
Dudn't matter what the problem is! Could be any problem at all! She's performing a magic trick - the same trick, over and over. The thing about these callers is, their problems are usually fairly complex; they're layered, they have shades of gray, they involve years of relationship history, they involve deep-seated behavioral patterns and psychological turmoil. These aren't simple problems with simple solutions. But Dr. Laura will take this problem, interrupt the caller as soon as she has heard enough of it to put it in one of her standard pigeonholes, and perform the magic trick. The magic trick is that surprise! Your problem is really quite simple! See, in the Dr. Laura philosophy, there are only about eight problems. There's the woman who's getting stepped on and has to assert herself. There's the lazy, weak woman who's shirking her obligation to God and husband. There's the woman who's boyfriend has some bad habit and needs to be given an ultimatum. There's the man who needs a wakeup call that his childrens' welfare is paramount and all other concerns are secondary. And a few others I might be forgetting. Once Dr. Laura has established which of the eight problems she is currently dealing with, she can cut off the caller - his role is over. Now the story proceeds to its climax. The caller knows she is being stepped on / abused, she knows it! Furthermore, she knows what she has to do! Why are we even wasting Dr. Laura's time with something so obvious? All that's left is a tearful acknowledgement from the caller that Dr. Laura hit the nail on the head, and it's another one in the books.
Dan Savage, who writes Savage Love, also has this kind of kick-in-the-pants, tough love style of advice giving. He'll tell it to you straight and he won't mince words. There won't be any sensitive preamble, and he won't be delicate. But Dan Savage is also capable of changing gears and acknowledging a difficult, complex question with no clear answers. He'll sometimes change his mind. He'll post responses from readers and experts who weigh in with divergent opinions. He's quick to say "Dump the Motherfucker Already" but he's equally likely to see a gray area and seek compromise. When have you ever heard Dr. Laura talk about compromise?
See, Dan is thoughtful. Dr. Laura is a parlour show. The people who admire Dr. Laura do so because of the one trick: here was a problem that seemed terrifyingly complex, but as it turns out it was really quite simple. Only Dr. Laura could have cut through all that underbrush to expose the real problem. She's amazing.
Is it normal to listen to a relationship advice program and find yourself violently disagreeing with the expert advice? Here are a few standard Dr. Laura concepts that just seem dangerously wrong to me.
1) If you're not in love with your husband anymore, what you should do is pretend that you love him... go through all the motions of loving him... in every way act the same way you would act if you really did love him. Then, in time, the love will return.
Me: Huh? How does that work exactly? What if there's some actual *reason* that the woman doesn't love her husband anymore, beyond the possibility that she's lazy and weak and is ignoring her duty and promise to God to love him always? You know, what if there is some actual *problem* with the marriage? Do you think maybe that's worth exploring? Nah.
2) Even though you love him, you should dump your boyfriend. He's a drunk (or a liar, or a cheater, or a gambler, or whatever) and people never change. Time to move on.
Me: Of course people can change you miserable shrew. Don't want to get sidetracked here, but when Dr. Laura was making her moral argument against homosexuality, wasn't the idea that men are naturally beastial and weak and lustful and somewhat savage and that it takes the love of a woman to temper man's sinful nature? This argument was making the rounds for a while. So that's why homosexuality is ultimately futile - because a man without the guidance and temperance of a woman's influence will always be a savage. How does that jive with Dr. Laura's frequent conclusion that errant men are incapable of change and should be abandoned? If the woman loves him, can't she work on him? Can't she help him? Shouldn't she "temper" him like she's supposed to? Why the contradiction?
And how about Dr. Laura's supremely condescending manner toward every caller? Dr. Laura is never, ever happy until she's made it clear that you're five years old and gotten you to admit it too. I think this is tied in with "the trick". Dr. Laura is the great simplifier of problems. She needs you to admit that you've been foolish, carrying on as if your problem had any nuance to it, any hint of a third dimension. You child. You ass. Don't you see how black and white it really is? Why are you hesitating? Kick him out and change the lock. Of course you go pick him up from the airport. She absolutely cannot get an earring.
You know, Judge Judy can get away with an attitude like that. She's talking to people who have broken laws and and misbehaved in a variety of ways. Maybe they need a little Judge-Judy dose of stern authority. But the people who are calling in to Dr. Laura are good, decent people who are doing something difficult - reaching out for help with the most personal kinds of problems. Seeking help of this kind is itself a gesture of humility. These people don't deserve to be ridiculed and belittled. Like your low level supervisor always reminding you that he's the boss, it's cruel and cheap for Dr. Laura to always squeeze every last drop of superiority that her radio-doctor position affords her.
Here, for your convenience, is every on-air Dr. Laura conversation that ever happened, condensed into about one page.
"Hi Dr. Laura, thanks for taking my call."
"How can I help you Denise."
"Well............ it's my boyfriend. He's been living with me for about a year...."
"How old are you?"
"I'm thirty six.... He was injured on the job last March.... He works for the Coast Guard...."
"How old is he?"
"He's my age.... He lost the use of his legs..."
"Denise....."
"And he gets around in a power chair....."
"Denise....."
"Yes?"
"Did I ask you if he was your age? I asked how old he was."
"I'm sorry Dr. Laura. He's thirty six."
"Okay, go on."
"He gets around just fine, and he hasn't really lost any of his independence. It's just that.... well... he's not the same man he used to be."
"Denise..."
"He doesn't seem interested in staying active..."
"Denise...."
"Yes?"
"Denise, what is your question."
"Well... okay... see we used to do everything together, but lately he always finds an excuse..."
"Denise you haven't heard me. What is your question?"
"What should I do Dr. Laura?"
"Do you have children?"
"No."
"Denise, he is either going to have to change his attitude in a hurry, and I mean soon, or he is going to lose you."
(silence)
"You know what the right thing to do is, don't you Denise."
"(sniffle). Yes."
"He is either going to rediscover his joy in life or he can be miserable all by himself."
"(sniffle). Yes."
"But he is not going to drag you down with him."
"(wipes a tear) Thank you Dr. Laura."
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Naked Chicken
I saw this commercial for Naked Chicken. Go watch it and come back for discussion.
http://www.dhadm.com/index.php/dhadm/index/buffalo_wild_wings
Okay. Naked chicken. I saw this ad and it didn't really register. My mind processed it and filed it the way it does for most commercials. It was stupid but it didn't seem too offensive. But the more time passed, the more I kept coming back to this ad in my mind. Naked chicken.... The more I thought about it the angrier I got. Why was I getting so steamed about this commercial? Finally I could no longer contain my rage and just shouted angry insults at the Naked Chicken, cursing the chicken, cursing Buffalo Wild Wings, damning everyone who had ever eaten a naked chicken and all their family members too.
I still can't get a full grip on why this commercial angers me so much, but I'll try to talk it out.
First of all, we have a guy holding a blurry piece of chicken, and he asks the waitress why it is blurry. Now, I have to point out, just for my own sanity, that things in real life can't be blurry and pixellated. So this is the first point where the commercial is asking for my suspension of disbelief. No problem. You got it. People talk to cartoon characters in commercials, they wink at a Mr. Clean who's come alive on the bottle, same with the Brawny Guy, okay fine.
But now, the guy asks why his chicken is blurry. This is a red flag. I, the viewer, have suspended *my* disbelief. "Chicken can be blurry." I've told myself. I've accepted that. It's weird and uncomfortable, but I've made peace with it. But now the guy in the ad doesn't quite understand it either. My suspended disbelief is collapsing like a house of cards if the guy in the ad is questioning blurry chicken. He's supposed to be on board with it. Now I'm back to square one: why does the chicken have some sort of computer effect on it that people can see?
The waitress comes over, all smiles, and helpfully clears up the confusion. But this is another request for suspension of disbelief. If I'm meant to question the nature of blurry chicken, as the guy in the ad did, shouldn't I be considerably more freaked out than he is? Wouldn't I be shook to my very core that the chicken was blurry? Wouldn't I be freaking out? That his blurry-chicken-crisis is so easily resolved doesn't ring true. This is a much more difficult request for suspension of disbelief. Buffalo Wild Wings is asking me to accept that chicken can be pixellated, but not immediately - only after some casual questioning. This challenges the very limits of my suspension of disbelief abilities. It's as if you saw a Mr. Clean commercial where Mr. Clean comes out of the bottle and congratulates mom on a clean kitchen, and you find it amusing, but then mom freaks out that Mr. Clean has come to life, and now you're confused and frightened, but then Mr. Clean says "Don't worry, I do this every Wednesday" and mom calms down immediately. Huh?
So as I struggle with this, the commercial doesn't get any easier to understand. The waitress explains that the chicken is censored because its naked. Now, further SoD is required because guess what? That doesn't make any sense. Even if I could pixellate things in real life and cause only mild, temporary confusion in others, chicken is naked to start with and doesn't need to be blurred. Shouldn't the guy in the ad say "Isn't 'naked', in this sense, only referring to the absence of breading? And since when have we been modest about chicken nudity?"
But, well, this is all a joke. Ha ha. Naked Chicken. Get it? Not really, no. It's not funny. No. Just not funny. Nobody in the ad is behaving like an actual human being. And note the fleeting look of distaste of the waitress's face as the ad ends. Is she annoyed because the whole "blurry chicken question" is something she has to explain 20 times a day and she's sick of it? Or because the one guy is waving his blurry chicken around like an idiot? An open question, I guess. There's so much groundwork that has to be laid for this lame punchline that the whole thing is just a confusing waste of time.
Again, I ask: remember when commercials were just "The Lincoln Towncar. Magnificently designed and appointed. Luxury you can afford." and that was it? There was no triple-layered irony and forced humor?
http://www.dhadm.com/index.php/dhadm/index/buffalo_wild_wings
Okay. Naked chicken. I saw this ad and it didn't really register. My mind processed it and filed it the way it does for most commercials. It was stupid but it didn't seem too offensive. But the more time passed, the more I kept coming back to this ad in my mind. Naked chicken.... The more I thought about it the angrier I got. Why was I getting so steamed about this commercial? Finally I could no longer contain my rage and just shouted angry insults at the Naked Chicken, cursing the chicken, cursing Buffalo Wild Wings, damning everyone who had ever eaten a naked chicken and all their family members too.
I still can't get a full grip on why this commercial angers me so much, but I'll try to talk it out.
First of all, we have a guy holding a blurry piece of chicken, and he asks the waitress why it is blurry. Now, I have to point out, just for my own sanity, that things in real life can't be blurry and pixellated. So this is the first point where the commercial is asking for my suspension of disbelief. No problem. You got it. People talk to cartoon characters in commercials, they wink at a Mr. Clean who's come alive on the bottle, same with the Brawny Guy, okay fine.
But now, the guy asks why his chicken is blurry. This is a red flag. I, the viewer, have suspended *my* disbelief. "Chicken can be blurry." I've told myself. I've accepted that. It's weird and uncomfortable, but I've made peace with it. But now the guy in the ad doesn't quite understand it either. My suspended disbelief is collapsing like a house of cards if the guy in the ad is questioning blurry chicken. He's supposed to be on board with it. Now I'm back to square one: why does the chicken have some sort of computer effect on it that people can see?
The waitress comes over, all smiles, and helpfully clears up the confusion. But this is another request for suspension of disbelief. If I'm meant to question the nature of blurry chicken, as the guy in the ad did, shouldn't I be considerably more freaked out than he is? Wouldn't I be shook to my very core that the chicken was blurry? Wouldn't I be freaking out? That his blurry-chicken-crisis is so easily resolved doesn't ring true. This is a much more difficult request for suspension of disbelief. Buffalo Wild Wings is asking me to accept that chicken can be pixellated, but not immediately - only after some casual questioning. This challenges the very limits of my suspension of disbelief abilities. It's as if you saw a Mr. Clean commercial where Mr. Clean comes out of the bottle and congratulates mom on a clean kitchen, and you find it amusing, but then mom freaks out that Mr. Clean has come to life, and now you're confused and frightened, but then Mr. Clean says "Don't worry, I do this every Wednesday" and mom calms down immediately. Huh?
So as I struggle with this, the commercial doesn't get any easier to understand. The waitress explains that the chicken is censored because its naked. Now, further SoD is required because guess what? That doesn't make any sense. Even if I could pixellate things in real life and cause only mild, temporary confusion in others, chicken is naked to start with and doesn't need to be blurred. Shouldn't the guy in the ad say "Isn't 'naked', in this sense, only referring to the absence of breading? And since when have we been modest about chicken nudity?"
But, well, this is all a joke. Ha ha. Naked Chicken. Get it? Not really, no. It's not funny. No. Just not funny. Nobody in the ad is behaving like an actual human being. And note the fleeting look of distaste of the waitress's face as the ad ends. Is she annoyed because the whole "blurry chicken question" is something she has to explain 20 times a day and she's sick of it? Or because the one guy is waving his blurry chicken around like an idiot? An open question, I guess. There's so much groundwork that has to be laid for this lame punchline that the whole thing is just a confusing waste of time.
Again, I ask: remember when commercials were just "The Lincoln Towncar. Magnificently designed and appointed. Luxury you can afford." and that was it? There was no triple-layered irony and forced humor?
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