reality breakdown

So, the Real World Austin has begun. Please join me in welcoming the latest disposable pseudo-celebrity "stars" and their cloying entourage with a hearty Texas ... *yawn*.

I doubt this media-crafted circus will affect my life much, and not just because I'm old and need an extract of pure human adrenal gland to party until 2am. On the odd nights that I am out on the town, chances are slim that the pre-packaged clan will be hanging out at Casino el Camino like Dave Attel did. No, I'll hazard a guess that Coyote Ugly or Elysium will be more their speed. And they can certainly have each other, since that means less of my town will be sullied with their dumbed-down MTV drama.

This isn't the first time MTV have tried to cash in on Austin's cache. I never thought I'd say this, but this Real World fiasco almost makes me yearn for the days of Austin Stories. Even if it was a mediocre show, at least it attempted to embrace the same iconoclast underbelly that infused Slacker with its underachieving counter-culture. Both Slacker and Austin Stories took something authentic about Austin and used it as a canvas for stylized portraits that were uniquely intertwined with the setting.

Time waits for no one, especially in the herty gerty world of television and film. The hipsters in Slacker are now approaching middle age, and Austin Stories quickly became roadkill on the entertainment superhighway. There are remnants of their independent spirit still floating around town, but hardly enough to satisfy the media trolls at Viacom. To them, Austin is just different window dressing on the same parade of indulgence and insecurities.

There's an odd symmetry that The Real World is finally visiting Austin. The show wrote the book for Reality TV, but has since become a cliche based on the entertaining conflicts and romances of the first few seasons. Both the players and viewers now have built-in experience and expectations that serve as an unwritten script, bringing each successive season closer to parody than reality. In those same 15 years, Austin has also grown into a parody of its former self. Weirdness and live music are now slogans to be bought and sold, living on in bumper stickers as much as the culture. The slackers either made it rich or moved out of downtown to make room for those who did.

If the Real World had taken place in the Austin of 1991, it would have been a truly innovative experience. But in 2005, their presence is only indicative of Austin's status as a party town, which sadly enough rates below Philly and San Diego in the Real World Order. After 15 years of parallel development, Real World Austin provides a new low-water mark of both subjects' decline into mediocrity.

I love my town, because it is not the disposable locale envisioned by Real World producers or real estate developers. I suppose the marginalization of Austin is inevitable when there's so much money to be made from it, but I don't have to like it. So nothing personal Real World, but stay outta my way while you're here. And don't let the door smack you in the ass on the way out of town.

passion, oh christ

It's days like today I want to shoot myself for working in the marketing profession. No fewer than three ads within the space of my 7 minute commute proclaimed their sponsors to be passionate about something. And this is on NPR, for chrissakes.

"Passion" is the new "innovation" for the post-bubble economy, just as "innovation" was the new "quality" for the pre-bubble economy. And "quality" was the new "value" for the post-recession economy, and so on. Every couple years, the 28 brain cells shared by the entire media / advertising industry grasp ahold of a single concept and wring it into meaninglessness, and this seems to be the era of "passion" abuse.

Before the marketing machine sucked life from the term, passion implied an element of suffering. One who was passionate was sacrificing something of themselves to accomplish a higher goal. There's the extreme form of Passion, in which Christ suffered until death by crucifixion. But even on a human level, artists and musicians suffered for their passions, devoting themselves to the pursuit of their craft without recompense or recognition. Passion used to mean that you did something because it mattered, not because it sold.

Thanks to the genius of advertising, passion is now about pushing product, even with the most ludicrous associations. Lexus doesn't want you to just buy their over-rated cars, now they want you to think that the luxurious leather-bound accommodations in your pretentious SUV are the result of a tortured creative sacrifice rather than a cold financial calculation. To further demonstrate this, Lexus have gone so far as to sponsor the Lexus Passion in Film Award ... because upscale auto brands have so much authority on the subject of cinematic excellence.

Even Microsoft has thrown its hat into the passion ring. Microsoft -- cold-blooded conglomerate, Borg-like assimilator of companies and technology -- passionate? I'm supposed to believe that the bits, registry calls, and directories behind Windows were assembled with the same creative lust that produced the Sistine Chapel or the Last Supper? I call bullshit on that premise.

Language is endlessly malleable when it's being used to pitch products because the puffery of advertising (and politics) refuses to allow negative connotations to sully their pitch. And these buffoons will continue to chip away the meaning from words until someone forces reality back into their unrelenting optimism.

So the next time a company tries to peddle passion, ask the suit if he's willing to die for you to buy his crap. Then maybe you'll hear the truth about whatever it is he's really selling.

same as it ever was

Oh joy. Yes, let's put Humpty-Dumpty back together again, shall we?

It's not that I necessarily hate all big businesses (although, let's face it, corporations get away with murder, both literally and figuratively), but my negativity towards an SBC / AT&T merger is merely pragmatic. SBC can't tell their ear from their arsehole when it comes to sorting out my DSL vs. my local phone bill. So what disaster lurks when they become distracted with AT&T's international and corporate business?

prognosticus ignoramus

Patriots: 34
Eagles: 14

man down

Barret Robbins' life is coming undone. After a stellar NFL career cut short by personal issues and allegations, Barret's falling star nearly plummeted into a grave following his latest encounter. Now, having survived multiple gunshot wounds, Barret faces the prospect of multiple attempted murder charges. It's hard to imagine a worse situation for the former All-Pro center.

I've met Barret a handful of times. I've probably heard his voice less than a rabid fan might have from his post-game interviews, but the perspective of interpersonal interaction reveals volumes left unspoken by soundbites or Reuters clippings. The person I've met is a decent human being and an extremely kind, nice guy. The fact that Barret now stands accused as a violent criminal demonstrates the severity of an emotional disorder that is beyond the realm of understanding for anyone who hasn't walked a mile in his shoes.

Not that the general public will ever know any such details. Barret's fall from grace has come under the unfortunate glare of a media spotlight, where the camera lens is always quick to capture surface sins but never sharp enough to reveal the details behind them. In a typical story off the AP wire, Barret's bipolar disorder is a footnote to 7 paragraphs of violent encounters and past failings.

The mythology is that America celebrates opportunity, embracing the Horatio Alger everymen who pull themselves up by democratic-capitalistic bootstraps. But the reality is River Phoenix. Tu-Pac. John Belushi. Sid Vicious. Rae Carruth. Jayson Williams. The high-profile flame-out of celebrities, musicians, and sports heroes has replaced the American Dream with tawdry gossip. Perhaps we've fallen victim to our successes; when William Hung grabs his 15 minutes (and then some), it's a stark reminder that fame and fortune are often capricious rather than deserved. The old "rah rah" success stories about hard work and dedication seem antiquated in this environment, becoming background noise against the flashier tales of woe that ultimately befall misbegotten celebrities.

Maybe Barret's story will provide an amazing "against all odds" comeback story worthy of a movie. But more than likely, you'll never hear a word about his fate once the cameras stop rolling. Real-life recoveries require ample amounts of patience and commitment, and those characteristics don't play well on TV.

bookshelf meme

"Copy the list from the last person in the chain, delete the names of the authors you don't have on your home library shelves and replace them with names of authors you do have. Bold the replacements."
from Tim

1. Charles Bukowski
2. Hunter S. Thompson
3. Kurt Vonnegut
4. J.R.R. Tolkien
5. Mark Twain
6. J.D. Salinger
7. William Faulkner
8. Nick Hornby
9. William Shakespeare
10. Jack Kerouac

I'm pissed that Tim has forced me to reveal that Nick Hornby is on my bookshelf.

"booyah" for bikes

OK SportsCenter junkies, when was the last time you remember seeing motorcycle racing covered on ESPN? Sure, Supercross stunts sneak in during a slow news day, especially since ESPN and espn2 have hitched their wagons to the X-Games. But you'd never know that motorcycle roadracing (as opposed to dirt racing) is a professional sport since coverage is absolutely non-existent on major cable outlets. Only SPEED channel (digital cable required in Austin) carries any motorcycle racing at all, and even that programming is dwarfed roughly 10-to-1 by the blue-collar behemoth of NASCAR.

But all that's about to change. I expect that this is the year that the US's premiere motorcycle racing organization, AMA Superbike, takes a major step forward in the public consciousness. There are three social and economic factors changing the dynamics of two-wheeled motorsports in this country, presented in rough order of importance:

1. Jumpman23: Michael Jordan is one of the biggest names on the planet, and his popularity cuts across any demographic or sociological lines you care to draw. Michael Jordan is also a huge sportbike afficianodo, and I'm not referring to the size of his shoes. Our man #23 rides expensive Italian superbikes and totally digs motorcycle racing; so much so that last year he started his own racing team. His 2004 effort was small-time, with an unknown rider in a lesser bike class. For 2005, Jordan is stepping up to the big time with a full factory effort and riding talent to back him up. If Jordan's team makes it to the podium this year, it'll make news beyond the typical motojournalist nation. There are rumors of sponsorship by Nike and Gatorade, so can an ad campaign be far behind?
   


2. The Redcoats are Coming: The traditional migration path has been for promising American stars to attain success in the US, then bolt for a higher profile and fatter checks in Europe. In case you didn't know, Europeans love bikes and they love their motorcycle racing like Americans love NASCAR. For the first time in a long while, the tables will be turned in 2005 and a British and World superbike champion will compete in the American series. Neil Hodgson is a Brit, a nice guy, and one helluva rider. His arrival has already drawn a lot of European attention, and puts the AMA squarely in the spotlight. If a world champion gets up-ended on US soil, then the American series gets an instant shot of credibility, and some newfound exposure around the world. But Hodgson has already gone really fast while testing new tires on an unfamiliar track, so if he wipes up the Yanks then *heh heh* ... boy, is our face red ... *heh heh* ... Hey, look over there!
   


3. Torqued: For better or worse, bikes are back in the forefront of the pop culture consciousness. Not that they ever went away, but their outlaw metaphor has certainly undergone substantial revision since Marlon Brando's Triumph Thunderbird and Peter Fonda's Harley Panhead defined the genre. Today's two-wheeled rebels are pretty urban youngsters straddling outrageously powerful Japanese sportbikes. Their physics-defying antics may be laughable, but the performance-oriented image it embodies carries a direct lineage to the 200 mph beasts that populate the AMA Superbike series. The old adage of "win on Sunday, sell on Monday" may still be true among motorcycle loyalists, but there is a new generation of enthusiasts who buy on Friday and go to an informal track day on Saturday. Interest in sportbikes continues to grow, and interest in roadracing is a likely outgrowth of that phenomenon.

So keep your eyes peeled for AMA Superbike coverage over the next 12 months, and don't be surprised if you see Michael Jordon holding a handlebar instead of a basketball in his next Nike commercial. The moment that Stuart Scott applies faux street vernacular to describe a victory wheelie, you'll know that motorcycle racing has finally arrived in the US.

roboterfußball

German is a wonderful language. It's mystifying because it can alternately sound identical to English and utterly incomprehensible. And despite being overly technical, rule-driven, and almost completely lacking in romance – not unlike the Germans themselves, of course – it's just damn amusing to read.

I jotted down a few snippets of German on a trip to Berlin a few years back. My favorite is: "Dast ist AIBO. Der interaktiv Hund-Roboter." You can't help but hear it as if spoken by a jolly older man, most likely wearing lederhosen and sporting a bushy moustache. Makes me giggle every time.

But it's the Germans who are laughing now, having developed a world-dominating AIBO soccer team (or "football side," for you Euro types). If you'd like to take on the Germans with your own roboterfußballteam, you better sign up quickly. The fate of autonomous humanoid robotic sports may hang in the balance. And yet it would be appropriate for futuristic robotic athletes to speak German, since most other languages are a bit too colorful for automatons. At least we'd get a good chuckle out of their Teutonic Robot Voices while they kick our old-school human asses around the field.

netflix by the numbers

The movie-by-mail rental market is getting pretty crowded. As a successful pioneer, Netflix has painted themselves with a big red target for Blockbuster, Wal-Mart, and several niche players to shoot at. There's now talk of Amazon entering the fray, either as a standalone player or as a partner with Blockbuster, so the competition is only going to get tougher. All these options has me wondering: have I gotten my money's worth with Netflix?

I joined Netflix in 2003 in response to the irritating late fees and holier-than-thou stocking policies at my neighborhood Blockbuster. The online service has featured quick turnaround times, unscratched DVD's, and an exhaustive movie library, so I can't complain. Since a recent comparison had Netflix edging out Blockbuster and Wal-Mart for turnaround time and selection, there would have to be a substantial financial incentive for me to look elsewhere.

I've rented 48 DVD's through Netflix since October of 2003, which amounts to a rather lethargic pace of 3.3 rentals per month. At the current monthly fee of $19.47, that amounts to $5.86 per rental. Oof, that's a bit steeper than the old Blockbuster fees! In fact, the current Blockbuster online plan is only $14.99 per month, which amounts to an average fee of $4.50 per rental at my pace. Throw in the availability of PS2 rentals, and suddenly the Blockbuster offer looks pretty tempting ...

But I can't forgive Blockbuster for the big dollars they got out of me for so many years. They may have recently eliminated late fees at their retail outlets, but not before extracting a semester of Harvard tuition from my lackadaisical movie retention habits. "Ballbuster" had their shot, and they got their blood money from me. Now they can rot while I overspend with their competitor. HA! That'll show 'em.

Other meaningless Netflix statistics:
Average Turnaround (from shipping to return): 27 days
Shortest Turnaround: 5 days [Elf / Capturing the Friedmans]
Longest Turnaround: 223 days [American Psycho]
Average Gap (between returns): 9 days
Shortest Gap: 0 days [several films]
Longest Gap: 51 days [A Better Tomorrow on 4/6 / CQ on 5/27]
Best Rental: City of God [5 stars]
Worst Rental: Aria / Wings of Desire [1 star]

new year's revolutions

It's the time of year when people tend to synchronize changes in their life with the flipping of the calendar. Since this ritual is fairly arbitrary anyway, wouldn't it be more interesting if resolutions were tied to the theme of your new calendar? You buy a calendar of national parks / you resolve to protect the environment. Mom sends you a pet calendar / you adopt a homeless animal. You get a Star Trek calendar / you promise to kiss a girl.

New Year's resolutions seldom seem dramatic, as you mostly hear people adopting the same old stand-bys of weight loss, smoking cessation, and more phone calls to parents. So if you're going to use this season to induce change, try making it something out of the ordinary, and maybe even slightly meaningful. If you're struggling, here are some suggestions:

1. Promise not to wear any item of clothing that prominently displays a corporate logo. It makes you a complete stooge to pay THEM for the privilege of doing their advertising.
   
2. Boycott watching your favorite professional sport for a year. After a season off the juice, you'll hardly miss the spoiled prima donna athletes or the dense cliche-ridden commentators. If you're a hockey fan, this is your gimme for 2005.
   
3. Turn off Fox News and cancel your subscription to Newsweek. You'd be better off getting your information from bubble gum wrappers. Better yet, start reading a legitimate news source like the New York Times or The Economist.
   
4. Vow never to use the left lane unless you are overtaking other highway traffic by at least 5 mph. Otherwise, stay the hell to the right. You'd be amazed how rewarding driving can be when you're not bunging up the works for everyone else.
   
5. Forbid yourself and others from saying "how can anyone live like that?" Take a minute and think about exactly how anyone CAN live like that. Better yet, try and live like that yourself. Or at least give away your silk underwear without bitching about it.
   
6. Move (or stay) North of the Manson-Nixon Line. It's hot and humid down here, and the water's not gonna last forever, you know. Plus all that stuff people say about Southern hospitality is bullshit. Southerners are more genteel than Yankees, but underneath those superficial manners lies the same judgmental hostility that you find anywhere else.
   
7. Refrain from sweeping judgments involving people you don't know and foreign cultures you don't understand. It's not "their" fault you've never traveled outside the state or bothered to learn another language.
   
8. Read my blog religiously. And by religiously, I mean "worship me." Donations and wild acts of contrition are appreciated.
   

PS: let me know how these work out for you, since I'm not about to follow through on any of them myself.