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POLL REVEALS Microsoft employees love Microsoft software!
…Santa Fe Natural, makers of that “natural” cigarette whose addicts often mistakenly believe to be (1) made by Native Americans and (2) “good for you” just ’cause it doesn’t have additives. (News flash: Tobacco alone is lethal enough.) Maybe the brand will lose some of its unwarranted hipster mystique, now that it’s just another part of an oldline mass-murdering cig empire.
YR. HUMBLE EDITOR was recently awarded the honor of being one of the 18 jurors who selected the “MetropoList 150,” the Museum of History and Industry/Seattle Times list of the 150 most influential people in the 150-year history of Seattle and King County.
I’m quite satisfied with the final list, available at this link. There’s almost nobody on it I wouldn’t have wanted on it.
Nevertheless, there are several names I wrote in which didn’t make the final selection. In alphabetical order, they include:
IN ADDITION, here are some names nominated by other people (with the descriptions these anonymous nominators wrote) for whom I voted, but who also failed to make the final cut:
(This article’s permanent link.)
A friend saw a late-night TV program (or was it an infomercial?), which she swears was on PBS affiliate KCTS. It offered tickets to a free seminar at the Sheraton, which would be all about helping individuals get government loans and grants (for home buying/improvement, business, education, etc.). She couldn’t make it that day, so invited me to attend in her stead. Turned out advance tickets weren’t necessary. Anyone who wanted to could enter the ballroom; about 200 did.
What we all got: Not an info-backed lesson in the grant process but a 2.5-hour sales pitch for a $799 weekend seminar which, according to the salesman, would provide the information we’d been promised to get this day.
It was easy to spot the glib hypemaster’s real agenda from the start. He didn’t matter-of-factly list categories and sources of grants, application tips, etc. Instead, he gave a highly emotionally manipulative marathon spiel. It was a sort of cross between a revival sermon and a medicine-show pitch, illustrated with PowerPoint animated images on a big-screen monitor.
The spiel was heavily seasoned with neuro-linguistic-programming shticks. He frequently asked us all to think about our current lives, then to imagine how much better our lives would be with lots of money, a secure retirement, a new home, a new car, and a business of our own where we’re in control of our own agenda.
Then he proclaimed all this was possible with government money–but that the money is hard to find, hidden among hundreds of agencies (federal, state, local) with thousands of programs, all with different eligibility requirements and application processes. If you try to play the grants game yourself, he insisted, you were doomed from the get-go.
Then he said you could successfully navigate the bureaucratic sea with the help of a profressional grant writer or a specialist attorney on your side–except that anybody who’s any good at the job would charge far more money than most newcomers to the game can afford.
The solution? None other than the company he works for, the Boca Raton, FL-based National Grants Conferences Inc.
With the localized, freshly-updated info you’d get at the conference (and in its documentation and on its members-only website), you could start applying right away for just the right program for you. He even claimed you could grab enough public-trough cash to pay for the conference before its price shows up on your credit-card bill.
At one time, I almost thought his pitch to be semi-plausible; particularly when he warned us that the majority of our grant applications would be turned down, and that we’d have to be persistent and professional about the quest.
But that kind of caveat (as I’d once learned from Jim Rose, when he talked about his days as a pest-control salesman) can really be just part of the carefully crafted pitch. That’s how it turned out, when he revved up his fast-‘n’-loud act for the big finish.
This phase began when he told us how he didn’t used to be the dynamic, charismatic, confident man he told us we were seeing now. He’d been just another schmoe in Rochester, NY, loaded with debts and lacking in self-esteem. Then he went to a seminar about getting rich in real estate with no money down. (You remember, that earlier infomercial fad that collapsed when one of its leading promoters went bankrupt, after too many course-takers demanded refunds.)
That course, he forthrightly pronounced, had changed his life; just as this new course, more detailed and more attuned to present-day opportunities, would assuredly change ours. (But we’d have to Act Now, because space was limited and the best time of the year for submitting applications was drawing nigh.)
But the real clincher, the part where I knew I’d never take the course, came when he switched the big-screen monitor’s image to that now-ubiquitous photo of firefighters raising a U.S. flag at the NYC disaster site. He told the crowd an ever-so-slightly distorted version of one of the post-attack news items–that men allegedly connected to the terrorist network had received a grant to run a crop-dusting operation. The pitchman, in full-aggression mode, challenged us to imagine: If such purely evil people could attain government cash, how much easier could it be for good-hearted, all-American do-gooders such as ourselves? He came just this short of demanding we buy the course as our patriotic duty. The moment was even more tacky and obscene than I relate here.
He closed by exhorting us to rush with all deliberate speed to the front of the room, checkbooks and/or credit cards in hand. Instead, a healthy majority took the opportunity to get the heck outta there.
To Those Who Say I’m Not a Patriot
by guest columnist Eve Appleton
There was a famous Spanish animal expert who was quoted to say, “Man is the only animal to stumble over the same stone twice.”
Advocates of peace are patriots. Advocates of war are patriots. The argument is not one of patriotism. It’s of options.
Options, which in times of shock, pain and confusion are difficult to come by. During these times people are most vulnerable and most susceptible to propaganda. Most out of their reasoning minds.
In my day, now substantial years ago, I was a media queen. My voice could sell anything–product or concept. I engineered, wrote, produced, directed. News, entertainment, educational and commercial programming. I did whatever it took. And I could pump out the propaganda with a speed of force that left my bosses’ mouths agape. Straight to the heart and soul of the listening audience. I was a behavioral scientist in a field day of resources and a world of open receptive minds to play with.
Which is why I quit. I woke up one day to the realization I was feeding the people lies. Worse, they believed me. Even worse yet, they trusted me, acting on my words. Words, images and sounds meshed together with intent to manipulate behavioral response. To my benefit. The pay was handsome. The recognition thrilling. The demand growing.
I was dangerous. I was a hypocrite. And it suddenly became very difficult to look my children in the eye. So I quit. A decision I’ve not yet regretted. Doubt I ever will.
Film (including media broadcast formats) is considered the most prolific medium of manipulation. Its mastery is catagorized as an art. At it most basic function/application, it uses light–a very powerful and actually organic technology–to condition (or communicates with) the central nervous system through the optic nerves in our eyes. Its whole purpose is to manipulate sensory systems through varying patterns of light fluctuation which influence all sensory bodies to a programmed response. Like the sparkle of fire, which mesmerizes.
The difference is intent. Fire does not intend to mesmerize. It just does. Film intends to mesmerize. Media intends to mesmerize. When you get your target audience to respond as anticipated are you considered successful in the “Art.” Open any media text. This is what it will teach. You promptly learn there is no such thing as objective journalism.
I’m writing to you right now with intent to manipulate you. I openly admit it.
I’m trying to get people to think. Which is damn near impossible when they’re in a state of shock, pain and confusion. But, those of us who can. Who are more removed from the direct link to our most recent loss. We need to move out of our pain. Quickly. Because major decisions are being made in these days of confusion, which will affect all our lives for years to come. Decisions which are being made without the attention of the American people. Without giving measure of options. And while we find ourselves in a most vulnerable state.
No matter our pain, no matter our confusion, we need to stay alert. There’s something bigger then us at risk. There is an entire world’s future. And we are all responsible. This is very serious.
Every time I hear the word “war” I remember the Vietnam era. I feel caught in a past era’s nightmare. But this time, I have young adult children, male and female, who, based on my actions and the actions of my fellow Americans, could soon die.
And for what? A decision made in haste during a moment of shock and confusion? A decision made while we are out of our reasoning minds?
I don’t want my children to die. And I don’t want them to have to kill just to live. It’s not my right to ask this of them. Only they can make that decision. Let the people who are willing to die and kill go forward if they must; void of age discrimination, race discrimination, sex discrimination… That’s their right.
Let them go to the front lines. And, with them, the generals and politicians. Let them do the boot camp, carry the guns, shoot to kill. Something tells me the politicians just might protest.
My father was a career military man in the Strategic Air Command, the bulk of his career involving diplomatic and international services. Much of his work was classified. But the things he experienced we lived first hand, up close and personal, in our home. He was an officer, a colonel. It was said his career didn’t go further because he had a way of pissing off the generals. But they liked him by their side because they knew he was honest. Rare in the military.
He went to Vietnam as a volunteer. He reasoned it was his ability to afford one young person over there a return home chance at life. He felt it was the least he could do. He would grumble under his breath of the travesty of how the war was being run. Said at this rate the end of the war was nowhere in sight. The two biggest problems: Children being sent to do men’s jobs, and politicians running the war.
While he was there, he sent audio tapes from the front for our seventh-grade social studies class. He was very diplomatic. Careful not to say the wrong things. But we all felt it–a sober fear.
He also sent my mom audio tapes. Sometimes we could hear explosions and sirens and screams in the background. He assured us he was nowhere dangerous, far from the enemy front. Then he would chuckle and say he was too mean to die.
He was the one who told me the generals and politicians were never present at the front line. They hid behind the shield of their ranks, claiming themselves too important to be risked. He also said the news reporters never went to the front line, but instead sat at the bars and got drunk, taking their news feeds from the military propagandists. He said they had no idea what was really happening. We were being crucified. He was a career man who believed in his country. He was a devout patriot. He also knew from an eye witness point of view, truth from lie.
My father went to the front line. In fact he crossed the front line on many a mission which required, in his words, “the experience of an officer.” And in doing so, he was exposed to Agent Orange. We didn’t find out till his death. His files conveniently came up missing shortly thereafter. Files I’d read personally because I’d been named executrix of his health and estate. The government was afraid I’d sue and knew I had an ironclad case. It was laid out pretty clearly in those files. But I didn’t want to sue. I just wanted to know why they didn’t let us know sooner, so we could have helped him in his life. There’s nothing to be done after death.
What kind of parents are we if we ask our children to go to war, if not the worst kind? And please, don’t ask me to bless a war sanction and my children’s death for a boost to our economy. There are other ways to do that. And in fact, war doesn’t boost our economy. It leaves generations to come in dysfunction–even with all their body parts attached.
Call me selfish if you must, but I’m fighting for my children’s lives. I would consider myself a horrible mother if I did anything less. And I clearly understand the responsibility before me. I won’t ask my children to kill. I certainly won’t ask them to die. I have no more right to do this then ask children I don’t even know, to kill and die.
But I will ask them to help find and support clear reasoning, educated decisions, and alternative solutions. To start thinking. Justice for those we have lost does not have to be accompanied by more innocent bloodshed. Our children are innocent. If we can’t see this, we are obviously not in our reasoning minds.
What our current administration is asking us to do is not a TV show. It’s very real. The Vietnam War lasted what, ten years? More? If you have a child who is thirteen right now, in five years this child will be eligible for War. (Oh whoopie! He–or she–can die looking for some slimey crazed mad man. Oh goodie!)
And if we are successful in keeping the war off our home land, we can say bye bye to any current luxuries. Probably even our houses. We’ll be holding the jobs our children held while here. We’ll be living on poor wages–those of us lucky enough to hold jobs. Our savings will be depleted, as our industries shut down in the name of wartime crisis. As will our hearts, as our children are shipped home in body bags–or worse, as shellshocked, limbless vegetables.
Unless, of course, the nuclear bombs are deployed. In which case, there’ll be nothing for any of us because we’ll all be maimed, suffering slow death, or just plain dead.
So what do we do?
Options! Start thinking of options.
Our current option is unacceptable. We are intelligent, sophisticated, capable people who represent fairness, justice, liberty, freedom and equal rights. It’s an ideal which only we can make into a reality.
And no one ever said it would be easy. Retaliation is easy. Getting to the truth is more difficult. We need time to discern the information before we run off and start lynching. Lynching is our past. It doesn’t have to be our future. We don’t need to stumble again over this stone. It’s time we learn by doing something new. Something smart, conscious and yes, futuristic. If we don’t, we’ll only ever know war.
Justice doesn’t have to be accompanied by bloodshed. Nor will it be justice if we get only some, or possibly the wrong offenders.
And while we may have a damn good idea of one or some responsible, please don’t think I’m buying this was the act of a lone madman and a posse crew. That’s just ridiculous. Even Kissinger said that pulling off an attack of this sort required extensive resources. This guy may be rich, but clearances alone for what just happened suggest far more complicity. We need to get to the bottom of this.
It’s important to our future to know the truth. We need to account for all responsibility. We’re not going to be any more safe with a quick fix-it mobbing and a bunch of young dead lives. We’re just going to be more pathetic; or we’ll be nuclear waste.
In my in-box right now are several emails–hate mails–that, when compared to the 34 “non-hate” mails, don’t give a frame of reference to 85 percent of the American people wanting war. But our TVs keep telling us we want war. Our leaders urge us to raise flags. To wear them on our heads. Put them on our cars. We assume it to mean we support America. Our leaders are interpreting it as a vote for war. Where is the voice of the 34-vs.-2 emails?
Also, why is there an assumption that because I advocate peace, clarity and conscious action, I’m not a patriot? Peace is not a statement of anti-patriotism. It is a plea of intelligence. My resistance to flag waving right now, is not a negative statement toward my country, but toward the media blitz which seeks ratings and recognition and deep pockets without an ethical consciousness.
People are more divided right now then I’ve seen them in a long time. They are only under a symbolic media illusion of being united. But if you get into the streets, or listen for a moment to the ones who’ve been seeking peaceful solution; if you were to experience the hate mail and threats and name calling they have had to endure; you’d know there is an anger raging through the streets of America, dividing neighbor against neighbor, which is far more terrifying then any new advent of airplane bomb.
Our world has been glued to its TV sets, programmed by people they don’t even know. Unknown people they are empowering with their trust. Some of us have spent our time away from the TV sets–reaching out to sources of all kinds and status, looking for answers which may provide alternative solutions.
We have been thinking. Mostly because we are so very aware of how much there is to lose. And how precious this life really is. This does not sound anti-patriotic to me. It sounds smart. And caring. And compassionate. And concerned. And serious.
As you pray to your god tonight, or meditate in compassion, ask your god or your self to help us all start thinking. Of options; of solutions geared toward truth. Solutions which will show the world we are not barbarians like those who have terrorized us, but rather, intelligent, conscious, well reasoned and greatly empowered with the strength of clarity.
We are a great nation. And yes we are young. Maybe. And I do believe it possible. We the young can show this old world, old dogs aside, we know how to learn new tricks. We can reverse the sins of our fathers. We can successfully not trip over the same stone twice.
Please do not send children to war; world into hardship; hatred toward neighbor. Start thinking. Start writing. Start talking and advocating other ways. We can all do this together. Probably better then we can do any war. Peace for one and all.
Love
Eve
—
Eve’s Apple Laboratories
Herbal Aphrodisiacs
Home & Health Alternatives
Seattle, WA
http://evesappleinc.com
email: evzapple@zipcon.com
icq#:62566098
Someone at CBS and/or KIRO-TV failed to check scheduled commercials for newfound tastelessness. An ad for Realtor.com just ran during Letterman showing the shadow of what seems to be a low-flying plane soaring through a residential neighborhood and heading right at a building. The building turns out to be a house on a web-browser screen, and the “plane” turns out to be a computer-screen cursor.
If Microsoft’s legal tactics in the ongoing antitrust action weren’t arrogant and pathetic enough, its phony “grassroots” lobbying campaign to politicians and newspaper editors (conducted by a hired PR firm) is even sillier. Utah’s state attorney general has even reported getting pro-MS form letters “from” dead people and from towns that don’t exist. As far as we’ve been able to discern, nobody’s written in favor of Microsoft who’s not being paid by Microsoft (except for business-is-sacred Libertarians).
In Europe, you can use scantily-clad women to sell just about anything. Even a Microsoft operating system.
That “natural” cigarette which so many young-adult hipsters mistakenly believe to be “good for you” has been putting out back-of-the-pack promo cards honoring “America’s Endangered.” All the pictures depict birds, animals, fishes, etc. As far as I’ve been able to determine, none depict or represent that real endangered species, the cigs’ own consumers.
The aforementioned National Peanut Tour van, spotted at Myrtle Edwards Park on the Fourth, is now parked outside the Stadium Exhibition Center as part of the hoopla surrounding the All-Star Fan Fest. Also parked outside the Ex Center, and thus free of charge this weekend:
As for the Fan Fest itself, it’s basically an exercise in letting area citizens imagine they’re a part of the All-Star Game experience, even though the game itself offerred only a few, mightily expensive, tickets on the local market.
The Fan Fest is a disappointing $15 extravaganza of baseball-card sales booths, apparel and merchandise sales, kids’ games, autograph line-ups, and sponsor-logo banners. The only really good parts are three historical displays: One on the Negro Leagues, one on 100 years of minor-league baseball, and one on Seattle baseball history. The latter, curated by local baseball historian extraordinaire Dave Eskanazi, is almost worth the price of admission alone.
(on a package of Nestle’s Toll House cookie dough): “Bake cookie dough before consuming.”
ELSEWHERE: When a dot-com manages to stay in business and even attract new investors, it’s news, apparently.
UPDATE: Turns out others besides Dave Winer are interested in the idea of dissolving criminal corporations. Those wacky Vancouverites at Adbusters magazine are also proposing it.
THE FINE PRINT (on the back of a Spoon Size Shredded Wheat box): “POST is committed to nurturing and championing the well-being of families across America. Our families, like yours, have challenges and triumphs. We celebrate both the big and small events–the everyday joys and moments that sustain us. We’d love to hear from you about the things that help make a difference in your family.” [Then, in almost unreadably tiny type:] “Comments and materials submitted become the property of Kraft Foods and may be used by Kraft Foods without compensation to the submitter.”
TALES FROM THE INTELLECTUAL-PROPERTY INDUSTRY: Michael Jackson currently owes Sony Music $30 million! If the major-label system doesn’t work for even one of its (formerly) most lucrative artists, for whom the hell does it work?
Singles to Jingles
by guest columnist Charlotte Quinn
IN THIS WACKY WORLD, TV ads create the music hits.
The radio stations wouldn’t touch Sting’s new album, but suddenly got bombarded with requests for his new song after the Jaguar commercial aired. So now we have greedy and artless ad execs chosing our records for us (rather than greedy and artless radio producers).
Then there is Moby, who deserves brief mention, since he sold every song on his album Play to advertisers. The Chemical Brothers sold out to Nike, but most horrible of all is, of course, the old Nair commercial that some how got the rights to “Short Shorts.”
This leaves us with the obvious question: Is there any dignity left?
I wonder if it has anything to do with 100 TV channels, or the MTV generation, or the gradual coorporate overtake of the music industry, or… oh whatever! Truth is, when this generation gets older, our favorite songs, the anthems of our generation, will be fuel for Rolaids, Paxil, and feminine itch products.
Here are some possible ads we may see in the future:
…offers an amusing little piece speculating about the future advertising uses of today’s pop-song hits (Viagra jokes included, but of course). It’s at this permanent link.
IN THE WAKE of the dead-dot-com tracking site FuckedCompany, there’s now FuckedWeblog to track personal content sites whose creators have found better uses for their time.
I met a very nice lady from Russia after the Mariners game at a downtown sports bar. This is her website. She’s trying to encourage western tourism to her old hometown of Kislovodsk, an obscure resort city in the Caucases. If you’re not planning an overseas vacation this year, she’s also trying to sell hair-care products on the site.
Please do not laugh at her English language skills. That would be cruel to someone who’s trying to make it in an often cruel nation; who’s currently supporting herself via one of the cruelest jobs imaginable (telemarketing for Time-Life Books).
AMERICAN POLITICS EXPLAINED: Democrats want the world to be more like college. Republicans want the world to be more like high school. The latter wish is currently winning.
