Ignore What BÖC Said...Fear The Reaper

It wasn't a good week to be a celebrity.

For that matter, it's not been a good month for high-profile celebrities. David Carradine died in spectacular fashion at the beginning of June. At least, most celebs don't go down in a blaze of self-gratifying glory. But the second-to-last calendar week of the month gave Death a fourpeat. Ed McMahon one day, then Farrah Fawcett a couple days later. But later Thursday afternoon, word came that of all people, Michael Jackson had been rushed to the hospital. The Fark thread on the incident suggested that Jackson was not breathing when his body was found, and premature word of his death was circulating. By 6:30 that evening, the BBC (you know, as opposed to TMZ) had confirmed the death of a music and pop-culture icon.

Way to steal Farrah's moment, Jacko. But with all respect to Ms. Fawcett, one of these celebrities is not like the others. Farrah Fawcett was a noted and successful actress, to be sure. But Michael Jackson? Sure, we've all exhausted the jokes on the guy. In grade school, it was "I pledge allegiance to the flag, Michael Jackson is a fag." (I can't recall if I actually knew what a fag was, aside from it not being a good thing in grade-school vernacular.) Thursday night, the first greenlit Fark headline was "Michael Jackson begins work on 'Thriller 2.'" Maybe insult is the second-most-sincere form of flattery. All humor aside, Michael Jackson is undoubtedly the biggest pop icon from my lifetime, and the biggest to fall.

The thing is, you can't help but have an opinion on whether or not you'll miss Michael Jackson. I guess that's because he's just a polarizing figure who gave us a lot to talk about. You can't argue that Michael was a gifted performer. For his time, and maybe even transcending his peers, Michael was a talented singer and a stellar dancer. He also had the advantage of skilled songwriters, choreographers and backup dancers (see Malcolm Gladwell's Outliers), but Michael's work was still the cornerstone of all those music videos and live performances and recordings. But in his life off the stage (and sometimes on), Michael was a mess. For that matter, there's still plenty that we'll never know. The liaisons with little boys and even grown men, his marriages, the children, his bankruptcy and the sale of his Neverland estate. Whether he lived or died, I'm not sure we'd ever know the answers or the reasons. And it's sad that a lot of young people never knew Jackson as a young, talented, black singer and dancer on stage. They know a creepy, effeminate white man who might have molested children. What a blow to his legacy, but then, can you really expect an eleven-year-old to know what "Thriller" was without the advantage of YouTube?

I was actually speculating on this tonight, after considering how a co-worker of mine and my grandfather both looked down on Michael Jackson for being despicable in life, regardless of his achievements and talents in performance. It's no secret that Joe Jackson was something of a slavedriver, a stage father with harsh requirements for his children. Michael was a performer from his youth, and had it not been for that steady encouragement and drive, he may not have grown into the performer we knew. But at the same time, what life did Michael Jackson ever have beyond that of a performer? Is it possible that, in retreating into himself to become a better performer, he simply never grew up? Could he have not known how people would view his relationships with children because he legitimately did not understand it was wrong? It's something worth asking.

I wonder if, years later, we'll remember the death of Michael Jackson the way we remember when Princess Diana was killed. My sister was the first to confirm it for me, via text as I was waiting in traffic to get into the new "Transformers" film. (She used TMZ as a source, though.) But while we were watching the preview reels before the movie, they kept playing this one animated music video, sans audio. The song was titled "Michael," by a band called No More Kings. The obvious connection, clearly a coincidence, was a bit chilling.

But wait, there's more! OK, I didn't make up that segué, but it was fitting. Michael Jackson stunned me, but Billy Mays' death shocked me more, if only for the amount of press it got. Billy Mays wasn't a celebrity per se. He was a new version of Ron Popeil. However, in this era of the Internet, somehow the infomercial guys got traction. They became memes, and from that they became celebrities. All of a sudden, Vince, the smarmy pitchman selling ShamWows and Slap Chops and condescension, and Billy Mays, the loud and enthused guy hawking OxiClean and OrangeGlo and all manner of shopping-network and late-night TV retail fare, were household names. Vince's legal battles against the Farrelly brothers and the Church of Scientology became well-known, and he received further notoriety for beating up a prostitute. Billy, meanwhile, had built himself a brand, and even appeared on some new reality show on the famed infomercial names we were coming to love.

Billy Mays was a guy you may know nothing about (I know I sure don't know anything about him), but you know who he is. You recognize the voice, the beard, the exuberance and energy. Now, those commercials for all the stuff he was selling will be eerie reminders that Billy is no longer with us. I guess they can't pull them off the air, but you almost wish they would, that to keep them running would be sort of awkward. And while everyone becomes a saint in death, from reading the over-1000 posts on Fark, quite a few people seem to say they've had pleasant experiences knowing Billy, that he was one of the legitimate good guys out there. (Take that as you will, but they could as easily call him a dick. What's it going to matter?)

The celebrities we follow are kind of a mirror of our own society. Carmine and I were talking about society's obsession with celebrity lives (or the lives of those we deem celebrities), and how we have this increasingly-voyeuristic approach. His thought is that anyone who really cares what's going on in the lives of Jon and Kate (Gosselin, the parents of eight children who are the focus of a TLC reality program and who recently announced their impending divorce) needs to find a hobby. Maybe we find release from our own lives by justifying that others have it worse even though they have it better, that money can't buy happiness or a stable marriage. Maybe we simply don't put that much thought into it. It's just easy to be interested in someone else's situation, and easier to divorce oneself from it emotionally. We can mourn Michael Jackson's death without feeling any real pity or emotion. We can't be so fortunate with those who we really know. And yet, in a sense, don't we really know those faces in the news and on television?

Oh, well. I've already poured out a little for MJ. But I did wear my Kaboom!-colored purple polo shirt Monday, my own sort of tribute to the legacy of Billy Mays. I never bought a product on his recommendation, but it'll be different seeing someone else selling that stuff. It's like Drew Carey stepping into Bob Barker's "The Price Is Right" hostship. Drew will never be Bob Barker, and no one can ever sell the way Billy Mays did. But we'll always remember...until someone supplants these celebrities in a few years.

Even Blog Posts Are Bigger In Texas

I really didn't anticipate not posting anything here for so long. I'll just blame it on getting ready for the Texas trip, and getting back into the swing of things upon my return a week ago. I was actually going to chime in while on the road, but then I realized I was partially there to work, and returned to looking productive.

So anyway, I could give a play-by-play description of the trip, but if you check out the photos I posted on pwn3d.net, you'll see that I've already done that to some extent. Instead, I'll recap my initial observations.

Even the egos are bigger in Texas. Carmine had jokingly mentioned that "Texas is in love with itself." Initially, I'd just always assumed that the "everything is bigger" line was just a line. But then I left the airport. Immediately, you notice things like the amount of money and space poured into the state highway system. The supports for the overhead signs, the toll barriers, even the overpasses aren't just built, they're crafted. The stonework, the stars on the butt-ends of supports, street names in brick over I-35...Carmine pointed out it's one benefit of not having harsh winters to destroy all that work, but you could just as easily build a bridge with exposed steel girders instead of precast concrete or something. It's aesthetically pleasing when, up here, you'd never expect it to be. And the overpasses themselves...you're exiting Route 130 for Route 45, and the exit takes this half-mile wide arc flyover when you'd expect a simple cloverleaf. And the flyover ramp is 40 or 50 feet in the air. Now, I'm from an area where highways are typically carved through whatever was already in place. Compared to that, the Texan attitude toward highway engineering seems to be, "We could do this smaller, but fuck it, we have the land anyway."

The stars are a common motif. You see them on the San Antonio Riverwalk, you see them on the highway, you just find after a while they're popular. I suppose we overuse the Old Man of the Mountains a bit, too...but you don't notice what's in front of you. Most of the new pickups sold are badged as a "Texas Edition" or "Lone Star Edition." Our "Lone Star Edition" Dodge Ram wasn't any fancier than I'd expect from a basic Dodge pickup, but it was still badged as such. And the churches are bigger. In some of the small towns, the church is the biggest building around. Though more on that later.

I can't say that everything's physically bigger in Texas, if only because it's hardly like I have a representative sample. I didn't leave a restaurant hungry, but I rarely do. It seemed like the "small" sodas were bigger, but that could just be a personal choice of the restaurant in question. However, there was a t-shirt shop on 6th Street in Austin that sold a t-shirt boldly proclaiming "Fuck y'all, I'm from Texas." Maybe that says it all. (There was also one that looked like the shirt Hilary Duff shows her ex-boyfriend in her video for "So Yesterday," but I had to give up my mancard to make that admission.) So maybe the egos are all that's actually any larger than anywhere else.

In Texas, boys will be boys. Which means they'll be perverts. Now, I'm no prude. But being from New England, I guess I have some Puritan blood coursing through my veins. Up here, adult entertainment exists with discretion, most of the time. Of course, in Connecticut you see the billboards for the VIP sex shop. On I-35, that aura does not exist. And it doesn't stop with billboards for the Adult Video Megaplex or some other sex shop. The stores are right off the highway, big signs on the roof screaming "NEW SEX TOYS" or "XXX Videos/Booths/Arcade." (An arcade, seriously?) For that matter, the San Antonio Mens' Club is right off an exit. Given that you would think of Texas as an extension of the Bible Belt, you'd think that stuff would be more discreet. Instead, Texas seems almost proud of it. Part of that Texan ego, I guess.

Good thing there are interstates. It's not that surprising in retrospect, but all the development is right off the highway. You're driving past a Starbucks, a McDonald's and a Chevron gas station, and a hotel. There's a four-lane road with turn lanes, all built for high traffic flow. Behind this, dirt and grass stretch to the horizon. No houses, no downtown, no small developments or even anything potential...just plains. At some point, there will be something there. It's just strange to look at something that's in such an infancy of development.

The Alamo...that's it? It's a rule that most things aren't quite as impressive as they're built-up to be. That's kind of how I felt about the Alamo. It's right in downtown San Antonio, though I didn't expect it would be in the middle of a desert like my mom imagined it. But you always think of some big distinctive building, and then you see it, and it's just a basic shrine, not nearly as imposing as you might think. It's not underwhelming, though...maybe just whelming. I think you can be that in Europe.

That said, if you travel near San Antonio, you have to stop and see it. The Alamo isn't just one building, but rather a mission of which the shrine is known as the Alamo. The grounds are beautifully manicured, and the mission as it stands now is a fitting tribute to those who died there. They don't allow photos inside the buildings, but there's not much to really see; it's meant as a place for quiet respect. And if you're there, you're steps away from the Riverwalk experience through San Antonio. Green water aside, the Riverwalk is beautiful, and I'd venture to say it takes a romantic quality later in the evening.

Carmine still hasn't seen "The Dark Knight." That has nothing to do with Texas, but it surprised me to learn that, seeing as Carmine kind of aspires to be Bruce Wayne.

California Tortilla is not Chipotle. I figured I'd give it a try during my layover at BWI. My Havana Chicken Burrito was tasty. The chips and salsa were nice, too. But it wasn't a Chipotle burrito. On the other hand, that chicken noodle bowl at Fire Bowl in Round Rock made my eyes water. Carmine said the Fire Sauce was good, so I figured, what the heck? Holy shit, was that hot. That might be the last time I take Carmine's advice on hot foods.

I love my new camera. I bought a Canon PowerShot SD790 IS this spring, figuring I need a compact camera for certain places where my digital SLR is just too cumbersome. That, and everyone thinks it's gay to carry a camera purse around everywhere. The SD790 can be stashed in a front pocket, and while it's not as full-featured as the SLR, it does a great job for a compact camera. The only error was that I left the resolution a bit high; when I got home, I found that my 280 photos clocked in at around 640MB for the batch. Good thing I dropped a new hard drive in the Mac last summer.

Maybe that wasn't such a brief recap. But then, when have I ever been known to be brief? It was a good trip, though a bit short, and I missed out on Chicken-Shit Bingo Sunday evening, as I flew back Sunday. Next time, maybe I'll arrange for more vacation and less work, if that makes sense. But there will definitely have to be a next time.

Now, off to spread Fathers' Day cheer. Happy Fathers' Day, all you dads out there.

Common Cents (Or A Lack Thereof)

Next week, I'm taking a long weekend and flying to Texas to see the big project Carmine's working on. So yesterday, my co-worker Jess asked if I'd heard that Southwest was going to be increasing or instituting some new fees shortly.

Well, seeing as my tickets are for a Southwest flight out of Manchester, I decided to do some investigation. OK, so I just went to Google News. As it turns out, none of the fees apply to me anyway, as they're simply increasing the overweight-baggage fee, allowing pets in the passenger cabin for a fee, and discussing onboard WiFi. Want.

But one of the articles I read, specifically this one from the Chicago Tribune, was the one that got me thinking. The author states that Southwest is "under pressure from Wall Street to offset the [money] it is forfeiting by not charging travelers" for checked bags, then compares Southwest's baggage-fee take in 2008 to American Airlines' take, which is about ten times that. 

Now, of course, that's that particular author's spin. I skimmed a couple more articles that suggested Southwest was going against the no-fees mantra it had always followed, that it shifted from lampooning its competitors' fees to charging fees itself. I felt like that was kind of an unfair dig; Southwest's new fees are directed toward additional services like pet fare or unaccompanied minors, not the standard elements of air travel like pillows and blankets or checking a bag.

But the Tribune author's approach to the subject grated on my nerves. It's the word "forfeit" that got me. It's as if this author thinks that there's a missed opportunity here, that Southwest needs to be cashing in where everyone else is. To say they "forfeited" the money makes it sound like they up and gave away money that was rightfully theirs. And so I imagine a bunch of suits in some boardroom, acting as if the money that wasn't charged for baggage fees is money that was rightfully theirs to begin with.

I can't help but wonder if it's that kind of greed that got us into the mess we're in now.

I'm not suggesting at all that a company doesn't have title to what it earns. It's been proven, time and again, that the lack of a profit motive is the fastest way to stifle production. What I'm questioning is this reflection in the business world of our instant-gratification culture. Everything seems like it's measured in immediate results and short-term gains, not long-term outlooks. This is one of those situations; a lot of people fly Southwest because of the no-fees approach, the fact that they can check a bag for nothing and move forward. That goodwill is surely worth something, even though it's not a tangible on the balance sheet. Is it a good reason to charge a fee just because everyone else is doing it? Is the risk worth the potential income?

Carmine and I discussed this a bit, and Carmine suggested a bit of an "MBA effect." Back at RPI, we were reminded how all these successful entrepreneurs did their MBA five or ten years after their undergrad. Now, granted, most of them were trying to get a startup going before they went for the MBA to get some degree cred. However, the reason that our professors preached it to us was because they felt like the real-world experience would be far more useful to us entering the MBA program. There was one dude who wanted to do a five-year bachelor's/MBA program and they sort of discouraged it, though I'm sure he did it anyway.

But for every person who delays their MBA, I'm sure plenty just press forth while they're still in the student mode. Now, they have the credentials to do Serious Business. Well, credentials in the form of a degree. But what do they really have? A few years of reading Harvard Business School case studies? I'm not saying management is easy. But senior year at RPI, I took a course called Strategy & Policy that turned out to be a management capstone. I took it to flesh out a complete semester's worth of classes. I got an A in the class, even though I hadn't dosed up on management terms and specific theories since Intro to Management and Marketing. A lot of it was just common sense, and having to apply a name to that. Maybe it's the nature of HBS case studies, too...no one writes about marginal successes or subtle failures.

But even with quite a few case studies under my belt, from the Robert Mondavi wine empire to the Suzuki Sidekick, I'm not ready to make managerial decisions. Book learning is exactly that; real-world experience is the only thing that can prove that, and temper you to make better decisions in real-world situations. And yet, the business decisions made in all sorts of industries these days smack of some booksmart straight-A MBA who figures that if it worked for Alaska Airlines, it's sure to work for him. Or if it can make a shareholder satisfied today, it'll buy time to figure out something to keep him happy tomorrow.

The whole fare thing itself goes back to a changing paradigm in the airline industry. American, Delta, US Airways and their ilk were essentially premium airlines, as much as you can say so for a company whose name is said to stand for "Doesn't Ever Leave The Airport." Southwest was a no-frills, cattle-car airline, offering cheap rates and not much else. That's great for me most of the time; I can eat when I land, I bring my own entertainment, and if I'm traveling alone, I only have to find one seat. The problem is that when fuel went out of sight, the other airlines looked to the success of the spartan Southwest, and basically created an à-la-carte approach to flight, while still charging the same premium rates. The blanket and pillow you once got for free? The meal? The soda? The checked bag? No one was going to accept fees for things that had always been included in the airfare. If the airlines had gone up on ticket prices, there would have been grumbling, but people wouldn't have felt like they were being held hostage. An à-la-carte approach works great for something like, say, cable TV, where I would love to have Speed Channel but have no need for BET or TV Land. Those are essentially premium services. Basic amenities - a soda or a blanket - are not premium services. After years of serving free in-flight meals, it's a big paradigm shift to tell people they have to pay for that now. I suppose you'll need a quarter to get into the bathroom before long. Imagine how many climactic scenes during movies that take place in an airplane that that would screw up.

It's not just the people in power, though. It's the shareholders, the ones who dictate the results they want to see according to how much they've bought in for. It's the analysts, who call it however they see it, and the media, who reports it in whatever way will garner the best ratings. We all expect results now, and we need to realize that sometimes, "now" results aren't going to be good results in a specific context. Deadlines are fine, but sometimes they encourage a rash and tactically unwise decision for the sake of making some kind of decision. We're spoiled; we've become used to a world of immediacy where an e-mail that doesn't get responded to within seconds is followed up by an immediate phone call, where nothing is fast enough.

Maybe we've got to slow down and be just a little patient, and see some results before we start counting on them.