January 2005 Archives

Nah, not another diatribe on the vacuity of American Idol and its glorification of mediocre commercial music and the ritual humiliation of people who are too naive or deluded to know they can't sing. I can't even watch that: The "there but for the grace of God..." factor is too much for me.

Rather, here is an Apple spoof site, bashing the Applie iTunes Store for the fact that it's basically strapped its highly profitable wagon to a corrupt and exploitative industry. I don't generally get into political screeds here because, you know, I'm fairly shallow.

That said, I think the base premise is questionable, because as they briefly and reluctantly acknowlege, it's hardly Apple's job to rebuild the entire global music industry ( but any decent activist knows, you get the most attention by attacking the target getting the most attention). But I was really interested reading about the general music industry practices in terms of how they compensate -- or rather don't compensate -- artists for their work. Bizarrely, even as this site excoriates the business for only giving 11¢ to artists for a song sale, it promotes P2P as the alternative, which gives the artist precisely zero. Unless, as they suggest, you send the artist a buck or something... Uh huh. That's been working out real well for them so far.

But there are also lots of good internal links to more interesting and measured arguments. My favourite is this online excerpt. Holy crap, it sounds like no one comes out alive.

It's really depressing how the music business was dragged kicking and screaming all the way online, but now that they've been forced there by the work and investment of others, they're still insisting on their giant cut. I tell you, the Porktrashers aren't going to sell out to that game. We are going to remain unknown and unpurchased, playing in our basement to our friends and family. If that doesn't bring this corrupt industry to its knees... nothing will.

Both the man and his diet, I mean. (And as an aside, there may have been a few careers that got cremated along the way as manufacturers spent a fortune rushing out all their low-carb products, only to discover that Americans had realized that, you know, bread and pasta taste really GOOD. Especially the folks who thought low-carb beer was a good idea. There needs to be a special place in hell for them. I figure that's just one step away from new, totally beer-free, beer. After all, there's a huge market of folks who don't really like beer, so why not cater to them with this new product?)

But I digress. It is January, and a not-so-young man's fancy turns to his paunch, and what to do about it. I generally go on a beer sabbatical in January (see? another market for beer-free brews!), and hope that I can drop a couple of the holiday poundages. But now I've found a diet source that makes sense. It's classic, and likely proven too, although most of its practitioners are probably dead. But then, so is Atkins.

Another smart talented person left my company today. A bit unnerving as there's been a bit of a run on that. I guess every company goes through it, but it's hard not to view the parting of certain individuals as having symbolic as much as operational significance. Unfortunately this view often leads to questioning, which leads to reflection, and leads to a need for action. And that's never good.

However, his parting email contained this gem:

"...I can honestly say that I have been happy to come into this building every morning. Of course I may have been critical and snarky once I got here but my point was that I arrived feeling happy."

File under: Wish I'd Said That.

My sister is a medical nutritionist in Seattle, developing menus for patients with kidney problems. Apparently they recently had an unannounced audit on their services, and in some panicky need to show some "progress" in their processes, her boss changed a report name so Nursing could find it more easily in the catalogues.

My sister tells me the Update Nutritional Assessment Report is now called the UpAssRep.

You can't pay too much for that kind of administrative talent.

I keep meaning to post this job we just finished up, because I'm happy with the way it came out -- and even HOW it came about. Basically, Portfolios.com came to us through the agency side (who do some work with them) and asked if we'd make them a promotion for their Awards Show that they could send to all the folks on their roster -- and which would hopefully get sent around. They had no criteria except they wanted it to be fun and get some profile out there.

We came up with this idea that because the Awards Show is all online, why not have an online Award Show Party? It's very "industry" insofar as these parties are standard fare, as are the people who show up for them. But it was a lot of fun to think up, and I got to choose who I wanted to work with for once. I also got to work with an actual copywriter and illustrator, two neglected specialties on the web in my opinion. Specifically, awesome people like Andy Tipping (Flash), Steve Bochenek (copy), Thadeus (illustration) and Todd Major (co-designer). What else could you ask for on a gig? Here it is.

Holy crap, winter is here. The road conditions were fine this morning, but it was -21 with the wind chill, and said wind was chillin' alright. I mostly have good winter gear -- I pull out my giant snowmobile gloves for these mornings which look ridiculous but are the only hope for warm fingers -- but I've lost my little neoprene booties, and this combined with a broken lace on my warm boots meant I had VERY cold toes in my thinner ones. About halfway up Forest Hill I was scrunching my toes around in my boots to try and get some feeling back in them. No fun.

Carol has some neoprene at home she bought as a Kid Brother idea, but never used. I think I may have to build my own tonight as I hear it's going to be even colder tomorrrow.

Then again, there is a subway station near my house, which would involve a bit of walking, but much less sewing and frostbite. What is wrong with me that there's even a decision to consider in this?

Campbell's has pretty much recovered from Scarlet Fever, still some rash showing (it's awful how it's made his normally gorgeous transluscent skin so rough and dry... like his Dad for example), but full of vigour again.

On the other hand, Leighton woke up this morning with a fever... Here we go again.

What is going on in Toronto? It's deepest darkest January, a time when we should all be staggering through the cold and snow with shoulders and psyches hunched against the elements. Instead, it's 12 degrees celcius with a broken cloud and sun.

It's like the weather is having some mid-life — mid-season? — crisis, has abandoned all its responsibilities and gone out drinking and carousing for the day. And indeed, the forecast is that it will return tomorrow, hungover and remorseful, vowing to not let it happen again and overcompenstating by dropping down to minus 15 on the weekend.

(I would like to state, for the record and because this is my second posting which mentions mid-life crises, that I am NOT having one. All good here. Okay?)

Ah. Just got a call from our doctor saying that the throat swab shows that in fact Campbell has Scarlet Fever . Sounds almost romantic doesn't it? And to think we sent the poor kid to school... he seemed fine! Really!

Social Services may have let me off with the no gloves in the cold thing, but I think they may get us on this one. Oy.

Big time sickness at our place as Campbell came down with what we thought was a flu on Friday night. As I went in to kiss him goodnight before I went to bed, I noticed he was very warm; the next morning he woke up HOT. He was burning up all weekend, listless and uncomfortable. One thing about kids being sick, the difference is so much more dramatic than adults. First, they operate at such a higher energy level when they are healthy, so seeing them just lying in bed is weird; and second, they don't do any of those crazy heroics like thinking they should just tough it out and get on with their day. (Remember all the idiots who thought they were so indispensible at work they went in with SARS and shut down their entire companies? "But who would do the weekly regional sales report if I wasn't there!?")

Anyway, we also noticed that he was also breaking out in a bright red rash over his whole body, which at first we thought was heat rash. Turns out it's roseola which is sort of nasty looking but luckily not too serious. He's getting better today, although he's eaten so little he's looking disturbingly drawn and skeletal. You realize how kids in famine situations would suffer so quickly: they have almost no reserves to draw on. Another item that goes onto the list of things to be grateful for.

This morning, as I left for work:

Leighton: Mom, I'll be the monster and you be the ah.
Carol: Okay.
Leighton: Grrrrraaaaargh...
Carol: Aaah!
Leighton: See? That's how it works.

As a year round bike commuter, I prided myself on cycling to work in every condition -- and indeed I did ride in every condition. My idiocy knew no bounds, as I pedalled and slid around city traffic in blizzard conditions, showing up flushed and frozen at work with large ice balls melting in my hair. It was exhilarating, I'll give it that. Cheating death often is. But when the kids came along, I promised myself that I wouldn't ride in dangerous conditions anymore. Cold is fine, so is rain, but not bad road conditions that could lead to me finding myself under a bus wondering what the boys will be like growing up without a father.

The funny thing is, even as I look outside at the blowing freezing snow beating against the windows, I feel a bit... soft. It's like I'm a prisoner to my own self-image as intrepid cyclist. Even as I watched the imbeciles pedalling along Harbord this morning, shakey and uncomfortable in the wind and ice, I found myself thinking, "Well. Maybe the MAIN roads aren't so bad..." Crazy. I guess as mid-life crises go, it isn't too bad. I could be looking at our receptionist and thinking, "Well, maybe no one would find out if..."

Drat. I do that too. But I don't act on it! And that's the reality of being a guy isn't it? What separates the men from the dogs is not the thought, but the action.