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Found in a Hong Kong newspaper.
the bon marche at northgate circa 1956, via mallsofamerica.blogspot.com
There aren’t many cities that would seriously consider turning their backs on an investment of nearly $300 million in private capital within their boundaries, particularly during trying economic times.
comicsbronzeage.com
Just Sayin’ Dept: Here’s something that hasn’t been publicized much in the World’s Fair 50th anniversary celebrations.
from the early pc game series 'leisure suit larry,' via classicgames.about.com
AÂ Mother Jones writer attended a tech panel at South By Southwest. A marketing rep (not a programmer) from a social-media startup company boasted of its fratboy-esque corporate culture, making borderline-rude “jokes” along the way.
The Mother Jones writer walked out of the session, then filed an essay claiming a rising subculture of sexist “brogrammers” had infiltrated the tech biz.
The term was quickly picked up by Businessweek, CNN, and others.
Then Gizmodo.com, using an equally small slice-O-reality as its own basis, claimed “There’s No Such Thing as a ‘Brogrammer.'”
My take: What there are, and have been for more than a decade, are dot-com douchebags.
Those are the loud, brusque, macho jerks running a lot of these companies—both startups and now-established sites.
You saw them in the early 2000s. You saw them in the film The Social Network.
You can see them in startup offices from Seattle to Brooklyn, preening and yelling deals into phones and being rude to people (female and otherwise).
I suspect you won’t see them as much among the coding rank-n’-file, in positions where precise thinking counts and the hard-sell doesn’t.
But all it takes is one or more a-holes at the top to make a shop feel like an uninviting place for women employees—or for women customers.
(You do know that social media, mobile gaming, and all these other fast-rising online realms have female-majority audiences, don’t you? Some dot-com douchebags apparently don’t.)
Happy 7/11 everyone! And we’ve got a new place to get our free regular Slurpee® on this only-comes-but-once-a-year day. This brand new 7-Eleven franchise is on Virginia Street between 8th and 9th, in the cusp between Belltown, the retail core, South Lake Union, and the Cascade district. It’s got all your favorites—burritos, Big Bite® hot dogs, $1 pizza slices, bizarre potato-chip varieties, coffee lids with sliding plastic openings. It closes nightly at midnight, though (sorry, hungry Re-bar barflies at closing time).
makela steward via rainiervalley.komo.com
Welcome to all our kind readers who still have Internet connections after “Malware Monday.” In today’s randomosity:
Amid all the continuing flap about historic Seattle buildings threatened with doom, there’s one building a lot of people here would like to get rid of, as soon as possible.
It’s a lovely building for what it is. It’s perhaps the architectural ideal of its type of structure.
It’s just in the way of something a lot of people want.
It’s a long, low, large, rustic, wooden industrial building, with an arced roof and bare support beams. A delightfully rundown-looking front office emits that vital “we don’t waste our customers’ money” look.
It’s called United Warehouses. (Not to be confused with the old United Furniture Warehouse, of once-ubiquitous musical TV commercials.)
Since its opening in 1954, the structure has provided short- and long-term storage for the makers and distributors of all sorts of stuff. In recent decades, United Warehouses’ CEO Tom Herche has expanded the operation into six facilities throughout the Northwest region, plus trucking and freight-forwarding services.
The place has a new landlord. And as you might have heard, he’s got big plans for the property. Storing supplies of gardening tools and energy drinks isn’t among them.
Christopher Hansen, a local boy who made good (if you call hedge funds a “good” thing), acquired it and a couple of adjacent parcels, as a site for the big new basketball and hockey arena he wants to build.
As Hansen proved at the fan rally he staged on June 14, he’s got a lot of support among the local populace. There were thousands of never-give-up lifelong Sonics fans, who’d just love to again shout such old team slogans as “Not In Our House!” Hockey fans too, who’ve supported minor league teams and now want the NHL here.
The warehouse building stays put and in use until the arena’s ready to go up, which Hansen insists won’t be until at least one of those teams is a sure thing.
A moved NBA basketball franchise would probably be the first to arrive, because any “new Sonics” could hold court temporarily at KeyArena. That place is still a perfectly fine place for basketball (except to the league’s moneybags), but lousy for hockey.
Even then, the soonest you’ll get to see a game at the ___ Arena (Hansen will undoubtedly sell the naming rights) will be 2017.
Heck, the building hasn’t even been designed yet. I personally hope the new complex incorporates a gently arced roof design as a nod to what came before it.
And the city and county councils want their say on a complex plan to kick in $200 million in bonds to pay part of the arena’s construction, with the funds to be paid back by tax revenue the arena will generate. So far, City Councilmember Richard Conlin appears to be the most hard-to-convince, but this situation fluctuates nearly daily.
Then there’s the little matter of neighborhood traffic, as publicly moaned about by the Port of Seattle and others.
This has to be fixed anyway, as is known to anyone who’s tried to get to downtown from the south end on a Mariners game day. In that regard the arena plan is an opportunity, not a problem. And it’s best to plan and execute that road revamping in the immediate future, during or just after the viaduct replacement mess.
There’s another aspect to all this maneuvering. While it hasn’t been publicized much, the community has already benefitted from Hansen’s dealmaking.
Tom Herche’s privately-held company got nearly $22 million for the United Warehouses property. The proceeds will, in part, help Herche and his wife Mary maintain their lifelong personal commitments to local causes.
The Herches are major supporters of Childhaven, the Healing Center (a grief support community), Rebuilding Together Seattle (providing home repair for low-income homeowners), the National MS Society’s regional chapter, and the Rotary Boys & Girls Club (they host a fundraising picnic for it at the warehouse every August).
Whether or not any puck ever drops or any free throw ever rises at the United Warehouses site, Seattle has already come out a winner.
•
(Cross-posted with City Living.)
via david haggard at flickr.com
themediaonline.co.za
I’ve recently become obsessed with deliberately awful online writing.
By this I specifically mean copy that’s not really meant to be read by humans, only by Google’s search-engine algorithms. (The term in the trade is “SEO,” for “search engine optimization.”)
Texts are stuffed with “keywords” and boldfaced (or “strong”) phrases. The pages may have their own domain names, chosen to be close to whatever a search user is really looking for. Header tags and other “metadata,” unseen by the reader but seen by the search engine, are endlessly tweaked for optimum pickup.
These pages can be some of the least useful, least informative, and least readable stuff in the whole WWW.
This is particularly annoying when the pages deal with self-help and how-to topics (which is most of the time).
Partly that’s because a lot of it comes out of low-paying “content mill” operations, who outsource a lot of their work to Third World contractors of questionable English-language skills.
And partly it’s because the mills generally don’t give a darn about communicating any knowledge, only about gaming the system for a few bucks.
The business model is that you get your page ranked high in searches. Then you convert those page views into income, by pasting in either Google’s own “AdWords” slots or “affiliate ads” for Amazon and others that pay the site a sliver of any sales (or both).
The propagators and champions of SEO can be as annoyingly hype-laden as any other “web gurus.” They’re not only unapologetic for the formulaic blandness of their product, they’re proud of it. One guy known as “Webwordslinger” (real name: Paul Lalley) even boasts that…
Bill Shakespeare–you know, The Bard–would have made a terrible web writer. He never gave a thought to keyword density and didn’t even know what strong text was or how to use it in web writing.
If this kind of bad Web writing exists solely to make money, then it’s even more stunning to see examples that don’t even have the monetization part figured out.
A kind reader recently referred me to an extremely unofficial site promoting the Seattle Great Wheel, the Seattle waterfront’s new star attraction.
Only the site, “Pier57ferriswheel.com,” seems to have no affiliate links and definitely has no AdWords links.
What it does have is warmed-over text rewritten from other sites about the Great Wheel, and a little link at the bottom for the Wheel’s official page (or rather, for its official Facebook page).
Some critics would look at all the bad commercial copy online and claim proof that Americans (or at least Americans younger than themselves) have become a nation of illiterate boobs.
I have a different take.
I say that, instead, the written word has become more important than ever.
The written word is the lifeblood of commerce in the Internet Age. Far more than it was in the days when magazines and TV ruled marketing.
But too few of the bureaucrats and hotshot entrepreneurs in charge realize this.
They think they can throw up the cheapest trash they can get and just manipulate it into profits, by using ever-trickier shticks (including “article spinning” software!).
But it doesn’t work that way. Not in the long term.
Google-ranking is a fad. Heck, Google itself might turn out to be a fad.
To establish a “brand,” to sell stuff, or to simply stand out from the crowd, you’ve gotta take your text seriously.
It’s an art (or at least a craft), not a formula.
And it takes a professional to do it up right.
Someone, say, like me.
'the tax coin' by odd nerdrum, via aftonbladet.se
Regular Seattle art-scene followers remember the show at the Frye museum some years back by hyper-realist Norwegian figure painter Odd Nerdrum. His meticulously detailed images reveal the survival and/or defeat of the human spirit within life’s struggles.
Now he’s become the victim of what his supporters call a, yes, odd campaign of official harassment.
The way his attorneys put it, back in the late 1980s Nerdrum made some paintings with materials that turned out to be non-archival. He’d then made new copies of the same images, and gave them away to everybody who’d bought the now-fading originals.
He even paid national sales tax on the replacements, out of his own pocket. But Norway’s bureaucrats still cried foul. They claimed he was selling new works to overseas buyers without claiming the income on his tax returns.
The result, many years of courtroom hagglings later: a sentence of 34 months in prison, during which he’s forbidden to engage in “commercial activity” (i.e. his art).
Nerdrum’s supporters claim he was targeted for harassment, because of his past political stances against Norway’s ruling regime. (He’s inserted snarky remarks about Norway’s tax system into the titles of some of his most kitschy works; see above.)
His supporters have a “Free Odd Nerdrum” online petition going. Its page says:
Odd Nerdrum is an International treasure, some even say a savior of the art world. He is a man of integrity and a stand against what many see as the essential emptiness of modern art and life. To put a man of his age away in a prison cell for some dubious tax claims is unjust and unfair and a crime in itself. Odd Nerdrum is more than an artist, he is a symbol of pure individualism and that, in itself, is the highest hope for art and man.
Nothing says freedom, pride, and independence like being able to crack jokes about how nothing says freedom, pride, and independence like watching stuff get blown up.
Especially if it’s at someplace as beautiful and as centrally situated as Lake Union.
Did we mention yet how there was a great huge full moon in a cloudless sky, on the night after the first warm day in weeks? Well there was.
For the first time since the Washington Mutual implosion, Seattle’s fireworks had a big-name sponsor this year (Starbucks). Last year, a local tech-job placement company stepped in; the year before that, local talk radio hosts successfully pleaded for donations to keep the show going.
So: One more “best show ever.” Twenty minutes of color light and noise on a grand scale. And unlike the San Diego show, the rockets didn’t all go off at once.
In case you had a TV on during a home viewing party but muted the sound after the fireworks were over, the band playing live to round out the telecast was Pickwick. They’re the current neo-neo-neo-blue-eyed-soul sensations around town.
Back when the Stranger was still assigning me stories (just never running them), I researched the long and convoluted history of the Eitel Building at Second and Pike. Mr. Savage believed it might be cool to have a story about what he described as “Seattle’s only downtown slum” or words to that effect.
I’d first come to know the 1904-built midrise medical-office building (it was called “the 2nd & Pike Building” by the 1980s) as the storefront home to Time Travelers, a record and comix shop that was a vital early punk-scene hangout.
At the time I researched that later-killed Stranger piece, its then-owner wanted to demolish it for the usual Exciting New Office/Residential/Retail blah blah blah.
But shortly afterward, in 2006, the city slapped landmark status on it, against the owner’s wishes.
At the height of the real estate bubble a few years back, Master Use Permit boards appeared on it proclaiming an imminent 16- to 22-story structure that would incorporate the Eitel’s outer facades but nothing else. That, obviously, never happened.
But now, just weeks before Target opens in the Newmark megaproject across the street, new developers announced a new scheme.
The Eitel will remain intact on the outside, with a “boutique hotel” opening inside sometime in 2014.
But to me it will always be what I’ve always known it to be—one of the last major surviving, un-gentrified remnants of what the Pike Place Market and surrounding blocks to be like. A hard, scruffy place whose “original elegance” had long since settled into comfy sleaze.
The Eitel’s storefronts and basement spaces have held a wide variety of uses over the decades, few of them frou-frou.
There was the original practice space for Ze Whiz Kidz, a pioneering gay cabaret troupe. There was the needle exchange. There were several indie and local-chain fast food outlets, including the current longstanding Osaka Teriyaki.
What there wasn’t was anything on floors 2 through 7. The upper floors have been boarded up since at least 1978. Even the occupied parts have had little in the way of basic upkeep.
The one major change to the exterior cladding was a black faux-deco treatment, done some time in the 1970s and not in keeping with its original appearance.
But that just made it a more lovable little victim of neglect.
Nice to know it will survive, even if it’s not as the funky place I’ve known.
'jseattle' at flickr, via capitohillseattle.com
Yes, it’s been nearly a week since I’ve posted any of these tender tidbits of randomosity. Since then, here’s some of what’s cropped up online and also in the allegedly “real” world:
lindsay lowe, kplu
beautifullife.info