I didn't have the opportunity to see the recent tour with James Taylor and Carole King. However, I heard that Sweet Baby James may have less hair than he did in 1975 and the Tapestry Queen may look a little more gray around the noggin, but their voices were as strong and as clear as ever. More importantly, the songs didn't age. The work of two sixty-somethings held up admirably for over 30 years, and sounded much like they did on the 8-track tapes you originally heard them on.
So then I started thinking about today's young "artists" and projected them some 40 years out and doing their own reunion tours. What the hell will Lady Gaga look like then? Will she still wear her underwear in public with the flab of her belly hanging out like jello? Yikes. When she sings, "oo-la, oo-ga-ga", it may look and sound like early onset Alzheimers. The Black-Eyed Peas will be another doozy. I have a feeling that Will I. Am will most likely be referred to as Bill. And can you still call yourself, "Fergie" if you're a senior citizen and not royalty? When they croon "tonight's gonna be a good night", it will probably be foreboding that they both may get through the night without wetting the bed.
If Eminem lets himself go to the tune of 200 pounds with a pot belly and a hoodie to cover the flab, will he still refer to himself as "Slim Shady?" I doubt it. And when Kanye West sings "Paranoid" at 71, he'll most likely sound like a guy who needs immediate testing for dementia. Nobody wants to see that. And nobody will want to hear old men rapping or singing through a voice distortion box either. Their music is frozen in time with the same likelihood of thawing out as Walt Disney.
I would be remiss not to mention the long term potential of the Disney Channel clan. As much as they would like to have the longevity of a cartoon, these people will age just like the rest of us. You think Miley Cyrus can still sing "Best of Both Worlds" into her 60's? It's just a hunch, but I think Hannah Montana's double life secret will probably be out of the bag by then. And the Jonas Brothers may still sing about the "Year 3000," but I doubt they'll live to see it, albeit they'll be closer than they ever were.
Disney music, much like the rest of the top 40, isn't built for the long run. They just wait for someone to age, and then clone another teenager to replace them and take a premium position. The singer-songwriters from the 70's were built from a different stock. James Taylor, Carole King, Billy Joel, Elton John, and Stevie Wonder, all continue to sell out shows and play music that doesn't even seem like there's a hair out of place. It's a true testament of how music has evolved from high quality writing for the long term to a culture of custom made American Idols and single hits for iTunes.
So the next time an artist from the 1970's moves through your neighborhood, bite the bullet and pay the exhorbitant ticket price. They're a dying breed that won't be seen again.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Toy Story Equals Toy Storage
I'm convinced that my kids were the last to see "Toy Story" and "Toy Story 2." My two holdouts finally joined the rest of the country and watched both films on the Disney Channel double feature last weekend.
So I asked them what they thought, assuming that they'd talk about how great the animation was, or that they had a crush on Woody and Buzz Lightyear. Instead, I got something unexpected.
They both said that they felt bad for the toys, and have made a collective decision to never throw any of them away.
Great. Just what I need. I've been trying to take back closet and basement space for the last few years to no avail, and now I have to contend with Pixar? You can't beat Pixar. They're even stronger than Disney. Their stories always have powerful morals that affect both kids and adults alike. "Ratatouille" showed that even the harshest critics can be tamed by vivid childhood memories. 'Wall-E' demonstrated the importance of maintaining a clean environment and a healthy, active lifestyle. Most recently, "Up" showed us all that true love lasts forever and conquers all obstacles. So what kind of match am I going to be for "Toy Story 3?"
A committment to never throw away any toys. What are they nuts? Do I really need to keep the Piglet and Winnie the Pooh stuffed animals now that they idolize Hannah Montana and iCarly? And what about that oversized Bam-Bam looking baseball bat they used to hit their first wiffle ball? And that slinky? It always worked better on the steps in the commercial than it ever did on mine. I'll have to get a bigger house with more storage space and higher real estate taxes just so their High School Musical dolls will have a permanent place to rehearse.
I don't know how Pixar does it. To make us become emotionally attached to characters like robots, rats, a crotchety old man, and a Mr. Potato Head is quite an achievement. And it's expensive to the consumer.
In advance of my daughter's birthday, I bought her the complete set of action figures from "Toy Story 3." When I swiped my credit card, I thought of the joy this will give her in advance of the new film's release. Then I froze and came to a frightening realization.
Now I'll be holding onto these new toys forever. My problem is multiplying and it's purely self-inflicted. I'm hoping that one day Pixar makes a film about a Garbage Man with a clear message that it's good to throw things away in large plastic Hefty bags or recyclable cans.
Maybe I should start writing the script.
So I asked them what they thought, assuming that they'd talk about how great the animation was, or that they had a crush on Woody and Buzz Lightyear. Instead, I got something unexpected.
They both said that they felt bad for the toys, and have made a collective decision to never throw any of them away.
Great. Just what I need. I've been trying to take back closet and basement space for the last few years to no avail, and now I have to contend with Pixar? You can't beat Pixar. They're even stronger than Disney. Their stories always have powerful morals that affect both kids and adults alike. "Ratatouille" showed that even the harshest critics can be tamed by vivid childhood memories. 'Wall-E' demonstrated the importance of maintaining a clean environment and a healthy, active lifestyle. Most recently, "Up" showed us all that true love lasts forever and conquers all obstacles. So what kind of match am I going to be for "Toy Story 3?"
A committment to never throw away any toys. What are they nuts? Do I really need to keep the Piglet and Winnie the Pooh stuffed animals now that they idolize Hannah Montana and iCarly? And what about that oversized Bam-Bam looking baseball bat they used to hit their first wiffle ball? And that slinky? It always worked better on the steps in the commercial than it ever did on mine. I'll have to get a bigger house with more storage space and higher real estate taxes just so their High School Musical dolls will have a permanent place to rehearse.
I don't know how Pixar does it. To make us become emotionally attached to characters like robots, rats, a crotchety old man, and a Mr. Potato Head is quite an achievement. And it's expensive to the consumer.
In advance of my daughter's birthday, I bought her the complete set of action figures from "Toy Story 3." When I swiped my credit card, I thought of the joy this will give her in advance of the new film's release. Then I froze and came to a frightening realization.
Now I'll be holding onto these new toys forever. My problem is multiplying and it's purely self-inflicted. I'm hoping that one day Pixar makes a film about a Garbage Man with a clear message that it's good to throw things away in large plastic Hefty bags or recyclable cans.
Maybe I should start writing the script.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
When Fish are Held Hostage
When it comes to politics, I am most certainly an agnostic.
I'm not left or right of center, and sometimes, I'm not even in the center at all. With that said, I have no faith in our elected officials. But it doesn't mean I don't root for them. Not necessarily with bumper stickers and a tailgate party, however I would like to see the home team win once in awhile. And I don't mean a healthcare bill or a conversion to a flat tax. I'm talking about a crisis. We don't seem to win many of those. Some of these destructive events are self inflicted, others materialize through bad advice, and more often than not a crisis is inherited.
Our last one-term Democratic President had several he could call his own. First, their was a severe oil crisis, with significant shortages for us to fill our Oldsmobiles. In an effort to properly ration, we had to refuel based on the odd or even numbers on our license plates. If that wasn't enough for our humanitarian peanut farmer, he also had to deal with an Iranian Ayatollah with a penchant for taking hostages. The American Embassy in Iran was captured, and thus one of the lowest points in American morale was born. The longer these Americans remained under siege without a formidable plan for an end date, the President and his reputation were also held hostage. And it went on for a total of 444 days.
So now, another President is traveling quickly down the One Term Highway. He, like his predecessor, has a crisis he can call all his own. Although this is a domestic issue, it is ironic that it once again involves oil. BP's runaway spill in the Gulf of Mexico has fully blossomed into another elongated political morass without a plan or near term solution.
Our hostages have been replaced by fish that have either been rendered deceased or on the brink. Marine life cycles in the region have been disrupted, jobs have been lost, and we have another President long on rhetoric about penalties and punishment, but short on a cogent stop gap measure. I think we've seen this movie before, and we all know the ending. Approval ratings plummet and national morale sinks into the cesspool.
But I'm still rooting for a win. I hope that someone, somewhere can help put an end to the flow of poison that continues to kill life and jobs on a daily basis in the Gulf.
If the fish could talk, they'd be rooting too.
I'm not left or right of center, and sometimes, I'm not even in the center at all. With that said, I have no faith in our elected officials. But it doesn't mean I don't root for them. Not necessarily with bumper stickers and a tailgate party, however I would like to see the home team win once in awhile. And I don't mean a healthcare bill or a conversion to a flat tax. I'm talking about a crisis. We don't seem to win many of those. Some of these destructive events are self inflicted, others materialize through bad advice, and more often than not a crisis is inherited.
Our last one-term Democratic President had several he could call his own. First, their was a severe oil crisis, with significant shortages for us to fill our Oldsmobiles. In an effort to properly ration, we had to refuel based on the odd or even numbers on our license plates. If that wasn't enough for our humanitarian peanut farmer, he also had to deal with an Iranian Ayatollah with a penchant for taking hostages. The American Embassy in Iran was captured, and thus one of the lowest points in American morale was born. The longer these Americans remained under siege without a formidable plan for an end date, the President and his reputation were also held hostage. And it went on for a total of 444 days.
So now, another President is traveling quickly down the One Term Highway. He, like his predecessor, has a crisis he can call all his own. Although this is a domestic issue, it is ironic that it once again involves oil. BP's runaway spill in the Gulf of Mexico has fully blossomed into another elongated political morass without a plan or near term solution.
Our hostages have been replaced by fish that have either been rendered deceased or on the brink. Marine life cycles in the region have been disrupted, jobs have been lost, and we have another President long on rhetoric about penalties and punishment, but short on a cogent stop gap measure. I think we've seen this movie before, and we all know the ending. Approval ratings plummet and national morale sinks into the cesspool.
But I'm still rooting for a win. I hope that someone, somewhere can help put an end to the flow of poison that continues to kill life and jobs on a daily basis in the Gulf.
If the fish could talk, they'd be rooting too.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
From Grand Slams to Garbage Cans
Before having both hernia and hip surgery, I was an athlete. Not professional, of course, but I held my own in several different sports.
I'd stick handle around opponents in both ice and roller hockey. At shortstop, I would take a relay throw with my back to the plate, and still manage to nail the guy at home. The summers were filled with tennis consisting of bouncing around the court and getting to difficult balls, not to win the point, but merely to keep the volley going. And occasionally, I would drive a softball in the gap between the center fielder and right fielder.
Those were the days.
These days I'm relegated to watching these sports on television which even in HD, fails to deliver the same rush. My recent retirement from competitive sports has also forced me to stay home a lot more, officially replacing athletic endeavors with household activities. And quite frankly, when it comes to many of these chores, I just don't have the same prowess or dexterity.
Every Monday and Thursday, I engage in a game called, "Taking Out the Garbage." This event requires both strength and agility as you have to navigate around parked cars in the garage and the driveway. I've never fully mastered the art of avoiding a scratch or two on the cars, and I consistently knock over cans and spill the recyclables. I am, however, very good the next day while bringing the empty cans back into the garage and in excellent time. With a little work, there is some hope for me here.
The next challenge is a cyclical game known as "The Laundry." I'm pretty good with the separation of colors and whites, but my performance falls off dramatically when I keep clothes in the dryer for too long. When completed, my clothes either fit a midget, or I create a hot towel that would rival anything you would receive in first class. Carrying a full basket up the stairs also poses problems as I inevitably litter the floor behind me with someone's socks or underwear. My family says that I should practice more, but I suspect they have ulterior motives.
Fortunately, I'm not horrible at everything. I improve considerably when it comes to an intense and strategic game called, "Unloading the Dishwasher." I think the prospect of eating a complete meal with my hands keeps me motivated to keep the flow of clean plates and silverware moving, and most of the time I manage to put away the wine glasses without a fatal accident. However, I have been known to turn a few drinking glasses into terrorist weapons.
Without question, my most interesting weekly activity is a scavenger hunt game known as "Food Shopping." First of all, it gets me out of the house. I get a list, so I do have a specific goal to strive for. My equipment can either be a shopping cart or basket depending on how big the list. Keeping my competitive juices flowing, I try to complete the task in record time, without forgetting a single item. To insure that I don't get too cocky, my wife includes at least one mysterious item that doesn't fit neatly into any particular aisle. After all, how am I supposed to know where they keep the low fat, vitamin-enhanced salsa?
The doctors say I need a new hip, which doesn't mean a hip transplant, but a science fiction version of a ball and socket. They also say that the surgery will never bring me back to playing all the real sports I used to know and love. But I have found one positive. By having TSA security at the airport periodically check on my surgeon's work through an X-ray machine, I should be able to save money on a few follow-up doctor's appointments.
Next week I get to play a new game called, "Walking the Puppy." If you avoid stepping on your dog's land mines, you're a winner.
I'd stick handle around opponents in both ice and roller hockey. At shortstop, I would take a relay throw with my back to the plate, and still manage to nail the guy at home. The summers were filled with tennis consisting of bouncing around the court and getting to difficult balls, not to win the point, but merely to keep the volley going. And occasionally, I would drive a softball in the gap between the center fielder and right fielder.
Those were the days.
These days I'm relegated to watching these sports on television which even in HD, fails to deliver the same rush. My recent retirement from competitive sports has also forced me to stay home a lot more, officially replacing athletic endeavors with household activities. And quite frankly, when it comes to many of these chores, I just don't have the same prowess or dexterity.
Every Monday and Thursday, I engage in a game called, "Taking Out the Garbage." This event requires both strength and agility as you have to navigate around parked cars in the garage and the driveway. I've never fully mastered the art of avoiding a scratch or two on the cars, and I consistently knock over cans and spill the recyclables. I am, however, very good the next day while bringing the empty cans back into the garage and in excellent time. With a little work, there is some hope for me here.
The next challenge is a cyclical game known as "The Laundry." I'm pretty good with the separation of colors and whites, but my performance falls off dramatically when I keep clothes in the dryer for too long. When completed, my clothes either fit a midget, or I create a hot towel that would rival anything you would receive in first class. Carrying a full basket up the stairs also poses problems as I inevitably litter the floor behind me with someone's socks or underwear. My family says that I should practice more, but I suspect they have ulterior motives.
Fortunately, I'm not horrible at everything. I improve considerably when it comes to an intense and strategic game called, "Unloading the Dishwasher." I think the prospect of eating a complete meal with my hands keeps me motivated to keep the flow of clean plates and silverware moving, and most of the time I manage to put away the wine glasses without a fatal accident. However, I have been known to turn a few drinking glasses into terrorist weapons.
Without question, my most interesting weekly activity is a scavenger hunt game known as "Food Shopping." First of all, it gets me out of the house. I get a list, so I do have a specific goal to strive for. My equipment can either be a shopping cart or basket depending on how big the list. Keeping my competitive juices flowing, I try to complete the task in record time, without forgetting a single item. To insure that I don't get too cocky, my wife includes at least one mysterious item that doesn't fit neatly into any particular aisle. After all, how am I supposed to know where they keep the low fat, vitamin-enhanced salsa?
The doctors say I need a new hip, which doesn't mean a hip transplant, but a science fiction version of a ball and socket. They also say that the surgery will never bring me back to playing all the real sports I used to know and love. But I have found one positive. By having TSA security at the airport periodically check on my surgeon's work through an X-ray machine, I should be able to save money on a few follow-up doctor's appointments.
Next week I get to play a new game called, "Walking the Puppy." If you avoid stepping on your dog's land mines, you're a winner.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Real Estate Houdinis
In one of my favorite movies, "The Usual Suspects," a crime has been committed. The police have caught a key eyewitness who claims that the culprit was a notoriously evil criminal named Kaiser Soze. In the end, after being released, we discover that this "eyewitness" was actually the Kaiser Soze.
Flash forward several years, and I'm now reading Michael Lewis' latest mind bending expose, "The Big Short." Here, he goes into specific detail about subprime mortgages, credit default swaps, interest only loans, and how these financial instruments led to the downfall of Wall Street's most prominent investment banks. Not to mention all the foreclosures that spread into certain markets like water from a leaky roof.
As Lewis accurately lays blame on several different parties, I realize that one particular group was left devoid of any responsibility. An insidious group that has made a reputation for repeated profitability in any economic climate.
Real Estate Agents.
To some, they fall somewhere between car salesmen and Al Qaeda when it comes to job approval. They're the starting gates of every real estate transaction and they represent the first check point on consumer credit, down payments, and complete assessment of customer credibility. Like a game of poker where certain card combinations rank higher than others, they also have a specific hierarchy with potential customers.
Cash customers beat those who need a mortgage. A buyer without the contingency of selling another home first ranks higher than those buyers that do. Likewise, a higher household income is better than one that isn't. But like great con men, they couldn't resist rigging the game in their favor.
When hesitant buyers questioned their affordability in paying for a house that seemed beyond their reach, they were told, "don't worry, I have a guy who can help." They have a guy? Was he in Good Fellas? No, this "guy" was either an internal finance expert or a friend the broker had at a local bank. It's here where the prospective buyers first discovered products like interest only loans, adjustable rate mortgages, and even options to pay any amount they wanted each month.
Don't tell me that these modern day robber barrons couldn't do the math. You don't need an A+ in calculus to realize that a family making 100K per year, putting no money down, couldn't possibly afford a multi-million dollar home. They knew it, but they didn't care. If the buyer was forced to sell in less than five years, it's perfect? They'll just resell the house and make more commission. Real Estate and Wall Street have one thing in common. Volatility is good.
Yes, you could point to the fact that the buyers should have known better. But real estate agents are supposed to be experts in their field, so as "consultants" many trusted their financial acumen.
So what can be done about it now? It's not too late. These so-called brokers have had fixed commission rates for years regardless of the neighborhood they sell the house in, the home's price, and the total number of days on the market. The government should impose a fine dating back to the beginning of this mess which is probably sometime from 2005-2008. Each brokerage agency should be required to return 2% of all commissions earned during this period. Individual brokers will be charged back for all commission checks and the proceeds will go into a fund for educational programs on how mortgages really work. This way, no one will be fooled again.
Kaiser Soze is amongst us once again. This time, let's not let him get away.
Flash forward several years, and I'm now reading Michael Lewis' latest mind bending expose, "The Big Short." Here, he goes into specific detail about subprime mortgages, credit default swaps, interest only loans, and how these financial instruments led to the downfall of Wall Street's most prominent investment banks. Not to mention all the foreclosures that spread into certain markets like water from a leaky roof.
As Lewis accurately lays blame on several different parties, I realize that one particular group was left devoid of any responsibility. An insidious group that has made a reputation for repeated profitability in any economic climate.
Real Estate Agents.
To some, they fall somewhere between car salesmen and Al Qaeda when it comes to job approval. They're the starting gates of every real estate transaction and they represent the first check point on consumer credit, down payments, and complete assessment of customer credibility. Like a game of poker where certain card combinations rank higher than others, they also have a specific hierarchy with potential customers.
Cash customers beat those who need a mortgage. A buyer without the contingency of selling another home first ranks higher than those buyers that do. Likewise, a higher household income is better than one that isn't. But like great con men, they couldn't resist rigging the game in their favor.
When hesitant buyers questioned their affordability in paying for a house that seemed beyond their reach, they were told, "don't worry, I have a guy who can help." They have a guy? Was he in Good Fellas? No, this "guy" was either an internal finance expert or a friend the broker had at a local bank. It's here where the prospective buyers first discovered products like interest only loans, adjustable rate mortgages, and even options to pay any amount they wanted each month.
Don't tell me that these modern day robber barrons couldn't do the math. You don't need an A+ in calculus to realize that a family making 100K per year, putting no money down, couldn't possibly afford a multi-million dollar home. They knew it, but they didn't care. If the buyer was forced to sell in less than five years, it's perfect? They'll just resell the house and make more commission. Real Estate and Wall Street have one thing in common. Volatility is good.
Yes, you could point to the fact that the buyers should have known better. But real estate agents are supposed to be experts in their field, so as "consultants" many trusted their financial acumen.
So what can be done about it now? It's not too late. These so-called brokers have had fixed commission rates for years regardless of the neighborhood they sell the house in, the home's price, and the total number of days on the market. The government should impose a fine dating back to the beginning of this mess which is probably sometime from 2005-2008. Each brokerage agency should be required to return 2% of all commissions earned during this period. Individual brokers will be charged back for all commission checks and the proceeds will go into a fund for educational programs on how mortgages really work. This way, no one will be fooled again.
Kaiser Soze is amongst us once again. This time, let's not let him get away.
Monday, April 5, 2010
The Case of the Missing Bookcase
I've always loved mysteries. My first exposure to the genre was reading Hardy Boys novels which were equivalent to Harry Potter of the era. I carefully dissected each caper in the hopes of solving the crime before they did. I didn't always succeed. But when I finished each one, there was a sense of accomplishment. So I proudly displayed the completed novel in my bookcase alongside several others so I could easily reference how many books I'd actually read. The goal was to fill up the bookcase and start a new one.
I don't know when the first bookcase came into vogue, but I'm sure if Moses could have made a paperback version of the Ten Commandments it would have started around then. Let's just say it took awhile longer before Ikea made it both commonplace and affordable. But did you ever stop and think why we even needed bookshelves in the first place? If we desired a place to store our best sellers, paperbacks, and text books, why not just shove them into boxes and store them in an attic or basement? If we wanted to get rid of them altogether, Ebay offers cash and a local library offers a tax write-off. But that doesn't work for most people. Because without a bookcase, we can't really prove to anyone that we definitively finished any books beyond Curious George and Dr. Seuss. This, of course assumes that you actually have moved beyond Green Eggs and Ham.
The real truth is that a bookcase holds more than just books. It also holds the key to a few critical psychological components. First, the bookshelf tells the complete story of our lives. It displays the books we were forced to read in high school (with or without accompanying Cliffs Notes). Some feature the college textbooks that we refer back to every now and then. They contain NY Times bestsellers that were made into classic films, books on self-help, leadership, naming a baby, biographies of great historical figures, and saving for retirment. The bookcase lazily leans against the wall, but in the foreground displays our intellectual pursuits over various stages of our adulthood. But like any well developed novel, this only tells half the story.
The second facet of a bookcase is not meant for us at all. It's for the benefit of everyone else. Doctors use them to prove that they actually know something about medicine, or worst comes to worst if dumbfounded, they actually have a refernce tool. And how could lawyers not prove they know something about the law, when the law itself it plastered all over the office in various bookcases? The same rules apply to any home office, den, study, or any other room where books are displayed. If you listen carefully, you could hear every bookcase shout, "Hey you, look what I've read!"
This all brings us to the latest chapter in book display - - the age of digital technology. It began with Amazon's Kindle, was reinforced by Barnes and Nobles' Nook, and seemed to zenith with Apple's new iPad. It's hard to imagine, but could all these high tech gadgets soon make the next generation's bookcase extinct? It's happened before.
The music industry was first to take a hit. Back in the days of the British Invasion, summer beach music, and Classic Rock, artistic album covers were on display in every household. Many of them were worthy of framing. Soon, these collections gave way to much smaller CDs which were stored in less visible racks as the CDs were turned on their sides. And with digital music distribution, any semblance of an album cover has disappeard and replaced by a still image you can't even touch. How could books not be next?
What we're reading has become far less important that how we're reading it. The plot of the latest Grisham novel is not nearly as fun as reading it on the beach in a digital format without any worry of sand getting caught between the pages.
So will our children be the first generation to not use a bookcase? Probably not fully. But with a new group of readers enamored with portability, don't expect to see their bookcases completely filled. It will however, provide a perfect space for a charger that will connect to a wall outlet and insure that our eReaders will always be brightly lit.
As for what we're reading, well, that will remain a mystery.
I don't know when the first bookcase came into vogue, but I'm sure if Moses could have made a paperback version of the Ten Commandments it would have started around then. Let's just say it took awhile longer before Ikea made it both commonplace and affordable. But did you ever stop and think why we even needed bookshelves in the first place? If we desired a place to store our best sellers, paperbacks, and text books, why not just shove them into boxes and store them in an attic or basement? If we wanted to get rid of them altogether, Ebay offers cash and a local library offers a tax write-off. But that doesn't work for most people. Because without a bookcase, we can't really prove to anyone that we definitively finished any books beyond Curious George and Dr. Seuss. This, of course assumes that you actually have moved beyond Green Eggs and Ham.
The real truth is that a bookcase holds more than just books. It also holds the key to a few critical psychological components. First, the bookshelf tells the complete story of our lives. It displays the books we were forced to read in high school (with or without accompanying Cliffs Notes). Some feature the college textbooks that we refer back to every now and then. They contain NY Times bestsellers that were made into classic films, books on self-help, leadership, naming a baby, biographies of great historical figures, and saving for retirment. The bookcase lazily leans against the wall, but in the foreground displays our intellectual pursuits over various stages of our adulthood. But like any well developed novel, this only tells half the story.
The second facet of a bookcase is not meant for us at all. It's for the benefit of everyone else. Doctors use them to prove that they actually know something about medicine, or worst comes to worst if dumbfounded, they actually have a refernce tool. And how could lawyers not prove they know something about the law, when the law itself it plastered all over the office in various bookcases? The same rules apply to any home office, den, study, or any other room where books are displayed. If you listen carefully, you could hear every bookcase shout, "Hey you, look what I've read!"
This all brings us to the latest chapter in book display - - the age of digital technology. It began with Amazon's Kindle, was reinforced by Barnes and Nobles' Nook, and seemed to zenith with Apple's new iPad. It's hard to imagine, but could all these high tech gadgets soon make the next generation's bookcase extinct? It's happened before.
The music industry was first to take a hit. Back in the days of the British Invasion, summer beach music, and Classic Rock, artistic album covers were on display in every household. Many of them were worthy of framing. Soon, these collections gave way to much smaller CDs which were stored in less visible racks as the CDs were turned on their sides. And with digital music distribution, any semblance of an album cover has disappeard and replaced by a still image you can't even touch. How could books not be next?
What we're reading has become far less important that how we're reading it. The plot of the latest Grisham novel is not nearly as fun as reading it on the beach in a digital format without any worry of sand getting caught between the pages.
So will our children be the first generation to not use a bookcase? Probably not fully. But with a new group of readers enamored with portability, don't expect to see their bookcases completely filled. It will however, provide a perfect space for a charger that will connect to a wall outlet and insure that our eReaders will always be brightly lit.
As for what we're reading, well, that will remain a mystery.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Are Pharmacies on Drugs?
If you're in the mood to lose a quick $100, look no further than your nearest pharmacy. Duane Reade, CVS, Walgreens, Rite Aid.....it's all the same. It's not that we buy more than we used to. It's that many of the products we buy are no longer one trick ponies. They're now almost all hybrids because the industry has been masterful at reinventing themselves for decades in pursuit of profits.
Moving to Aisle 1, we find ourselves immersed with different kinds of toothpaste. At it's core, the product has been designed to clean teeth and gums with fluoride. As I kid, I had a few choices. Crest, Colgate, AIM, and Sensodyne for those sensitive types. Today, according to the box, our toothpaste could fend off everything including the Tooth Fairy. Toothpaste has breath strips, whitening power, enamel protection, lethal peroxide,and Listerine. Some will even give you a root canal. The real question is, did we really need this? Were mouths everywhere craving for more from their tootpaste? Of course not. But Proctor and Gamble, and Johnson and Johnson have caused us to live in fear. Fear that by not giving your bicuspids the very best, it could one day cause your teeth to fall out.
A stroll into Aisle 2 carries products for all your shaving needs. When I first started shaving, I used a standard razor that basically did its job, but occasionally made me look like I was attacked by Freddy from Nightmare on Elm Street. A few years later, one blade became two, then three, and soon there will be five. This isn't a razor, it's a weapon. It should require a license. And when you're done, you can't trust soap to clean your face, so the invention of face wash was born. It's not soap, or after shave, it's a gel that costs a nifty $6 per bottle.
Aisle 3 gets even more challenging. This is where we find shampoo, which may as well have it's own store dedicated to it. Growing up, Head and Shoulders was the shampoo of choice because the packaged goods companies forced us to view dandruff as the equivalent to the plague. But that's not enough any more. Modern shampoo can shine, create fullness, preserve color, moisturize, strengthen roots, and do everything but trim your bangs. Did someone ask for this when I wasn't looking? When it comes to shampoo, all I really want is something that makes me look like a took a shower.
It's the same in every other aisle. Garbage bags have odor guard which seems counterintuitive to garbage itself. Pens no longer have ink, they use gel and have check fraud protection. Mouthwash kills germs, bacteria, braces, halitosis, stuck dental floss, your tongue, or anything else that's in your mouth. Condoms practically have sex for you. All this leads us to one place.
Dropping at least $100 into the hand of the cashier.
The consumer product manufacturers need to constantly evolve, or their profit margins will be compromised. So they position us as inadequate unless we use products which keep us at the peak of possible hygiene. And just in case, you've managed to resist many of these overpriced, hybrid products, they give it one more shot by teasing you with gum on the way out. But this isn't your father's gum. This pack whitens, brightens, refreshes, and squirts. It can all be yours for a mere $2 per pack. For gum?
At the pharmacy, the house always wins.
Moving to Aisle 1, we find ourselves immersed with different kinds of toothpaste. At it's core, the product has been designed to clean teeth and gums with fluoride. As I kid, I had a few choices. Crest, Colgate, AIM, and Sensodyne for those sensitive types. Today, according to the box, our toothpaste could fend off everything including the Tooth Fairy. Toothpaste has breath strips, whitening power, enamel protection, lethal peroxide,and Listerine. Some will even give you a root canal. The real question is, did we really need this? Were mouths everywhere craving for more from their tootpaste? Of course not. But Proctor and Gamble, and Johnson and Johnson have caused us to live in fear. Fear that by not giving your bicuspids the very best, it could one day cause your teeth to fall out.
A stroll into Aisle 2 carries products for all your shaving needs. When I first started shaving, I used a standard razor that basically did its job, but occasionally made me look like I was attacked by Freddy from Nightmare on Elm Street. A few years later, one blade became two, then three, and soon there will be five. This isn't a razor, it's a weapon. It should require a license. And when you're done, you can't trust soap to clean your face, so the invention of face wash was born. It's not soap, or after shave, it's a gel that costs a nifty $6 per bottle.
Aisle 3 gets even more challenging. This is where we find shampoo, which may as well have it's own store dedicated to it. Growing up, Head and Shoulders was the shampoo of choice because the packaged goods companies forced us to view dandruff as the equivalent to the plague. But that's not enough any more. Modern shampoo can shine, create fullness, preserve color, moisturize, strengthen roots, and do everything but trim your bangs. Did someone ask for this when I wasn't looking? When it comes to shampoo, all I really want is something that makes me look like a took a shower.
It's the same in every other aisle. Garbage bags have odor guard which seems counterintuitive to garbage itself. Pens no longer have ink, they use gel and have check fraud protection. Mouthwash kills germs, bacteria, braces, halitosis, stuck dental floss, your tongue, or anything else that's in your mouth. Condoms practically have sex for you. All this leads us to one place.
Dropping at least $100 into the hand of the cashier.
The consumer product manufacturers need to constantly evolve, or their profit margins will be compromised. So they position us as inadequate unless we use products which keep us at the peak of possible hygiene. And just in case, you've managed to resist many of these overpriced, hybrid products, they give it one more shot by teasing you with gum on the way out. But this isn't your father's gum. This pack whitens, brightens, refreshes, and squirts. It can all be yours for a mere $2 per pack. For gum?
At the pharmacy, the house always wins.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)