So I live in a neighborhood where douchebags like to use our street as a cut-through, hurling their SUVs and mini-vans at 50 miles an hour over dips and around corners in a 25-mph zone. Being a pedestrian-popular and –friendly area, this can endanger the folks who are journeying to the local pool or nearby lake, as well as make backing out of your own GD driveway a rather nerve-wracking venture. As if that weren’t enough, there is a school bus stop on the corner of my property, right in the douchebag danger zone.
Tired of excessive speeding and carrying around the knowledge that a major accident is going to happen sooner rather than later, I contacted the city’s Transportation Services Division in late February. Four days later, I received a reply indicating that there was a Neighborhood Traffic Management Program (NTMP) that would look into traffic-calming concerns. Pleasantly surprised, I filled out the requisite paperwork to assist in the process, and was told that the NTMP would move forward with a site survey.
In early April, we noticed traffic-monitoring equipment on the streets in question, which I surmised was part of the site survey work. Two months later, I followed up with the NTMP in an attempt to get an update on the matter, and at that point I was informed that the site-distance evaluation returns (which had obviously taken a little while) had backed up my assertions about speeding and the danger of the area. As a result, I was told, the issue would be brought up and addressed (hopefully) at the second city council meeting in June.
So imagine my surprise and astonishment, when, as I went to get my mail on June 21, I noticed two new traffic sign poles in the intersection, including one on my property. The following day, stop signs with flags atop them were affixed to the poles. It took a couple of days, but most people began to gradually notice the giant red stop sign and enormous orange flags and begin to piece together the riddle that these meant that they now had to stop in this general area.
I don’t know if I’m embarrassed or proud to say that this has to number among my biggest accomplishments. I am left with the belief that I have been able to preclude some severe damages, injuries or even loss of life that I am convinced was inevitable, as well as a sense of empowerment. In putting the system on trial, I learned that democracy actually works sometimes.
The wildlife death tally does rise As fast as the number of BP lies The right would rather BP defend Will the spill ever come to an end? Somewhere, Mother Earth softly cries
Graeme McDowell, well-played, sir Phil, Ernie, Tigger couldn’t make a stir Par was good there at Pebble The Open course played like a devil Guinnesses were raised o’er Ireland, sure
McChrystal ran things in Afghanistan Then earned himself a shitcan Involved in the Tillman coverup Then didn’t know when to shut up Anyone know how this war should be ran?
Bad calls made us all fret Missed shots on an open net Up until the final minute When Donovan finally did win it USA won their group? You bet An 11-hour match I did root Between Isner and a Frog, Mahut Because of darkness delays It extended over three days Played so long I wanted to boot
#1 Seeing Michael Wilbon on NBA telecasts always feels like the answer to “Which one of these doesn’t belong?” The dude has zero credibility (just like Tony Kornheiser in the MNF booth) and it was nice to see him get called out by Stan Van Gundy.
#2 I fear Miguel Cotto is gradually morphing into Ricardo Mayorga. Dude just takes way too many punches.
#3 Jeff Van Gundy coined a tremendous term during the NBA Finals in describing the head-shaking actions of guys like Rasheed Wallace and Nate Robinson: “emotionally drunk.” He then referred to Robinson as “effervescent,” which I believe is French for “unstable gangster and dribbler.” On a side note, lump “Big Baby” Davis into that crowd as well; you would have a hard time convincing me that he isn’t at least a little retarded.
#4 I’m glad I’m not the only one who has noticed that Joe Montana is doing a lot of really stupid fucking commercials lately. The question is “Why?”
#5 I like Rajan Rondo and all, but folks gotta settle down in talking about him as the top point guard out there. Until he can take and make an open 17-footer, he has no business even being in the conversation. You NEVER see a guard dared to take that shot in the NBA, so it is shocking to see how far off him teams play.
#7 Also in watching the NBA Finals, it struck me how very similar Kobe Bryant and Tiger Woods are. Great as players, complete douches as people. In my opinion, both are eminently unlikeable if you have a soul.
#8 Hey PR flaks for “Jonah Hex”: Why did it take you so long to realize that Megan Fox is in your movie? It’s almost like you decided a few weeks into your campaign that it would be cool to sell some tickets. “Hey, we have a chick in this flick that’s so hot that she is not of this planet, but let’s show a lot of clips of Josh Brolin made up as Edward James Olmos instead.” Crikey.
#10 At the end of an internal war over whether I should begin watching the NBA season during the Finals, I watched most of the Lakers-Celtics series. And I came away thinking, “Oh, yeah … THAT’S why I hate the NBA …”
His record on the environment quite bleak To civil liberties he’s turned the other cheek He ran on a ticket of change But decisions have been quite strange Obama, you gotta prove you’re really unique
The World Cup has more dives than goals The English keeper might get shot full of holes Some don’t like the vuvuzela hum Some think the new ball’s a bum But South Africa is full of football-mad souls
Haynesworth acting like a douchy dick The new definition of a selfish prick Took $100 mil a year ago Now looking for elsewhere to go The part of pro sports that makes me sick
Stuck in D.C., away from my loves Put up with two ditzy English doves And an inept loser who defines “tool” Though our capital is pretty cool Delayed flight had me pleading to the above
Used to love the Lake Show Magic played with rhythm and flow Now Kobe is a bitchy fink And Artest gives thanks to his shrink How fucking low can the NBA go?
These guys have taken the concept of square-foot gardening and vertical growth to an abandoned hilltop in San Francisco. They discovered that if you flood so-called “bad areas” with gardening and Grandmas, the criminal element is embarrassed to the point that a new standard of behavior can be created. Operating under the belief that the area was simply too beautiful to waste and that San Fran’s open-space budget was sitting unused, they’ve developed a community garden that feeds the hungry with foods that “fill you up.”
Not really a message here, I just thought it was cool.
“Twitter is the stupidest thing anyone could ever imagine inventing. If I said to you, ‘I’ve got an application that I want you to install that is addictive, time-consuming, cross-platform accessible, and otherwise as sprawling as kudzu,’ would you say yes?”
“You can either speak at people or you can speak with people.”
In helping my org launch an over-arching social media initiative, I’ve been immersed in research over the past several weeks. The idea for me in my role was to help us to be at the leading edge—not the bleeding edge—of social media in our inherently traditional and conservative industry. One of the names that I noticed kept popping up was that of Chris Brogan, so I tracked down his book “Social Media 101: Tactics and Tips to Develop Your Business Online.” I found it to be an informal, well-laid-out, easy-to-follow and –digest resource, chock full of useful tools, tips and tidbits.
Overall, the tome itself appears to be a loose collection of his pertinent blog posts, all in one handy place you can carry around, but that’s OK, too. And while the lists of tools to use, topics to touch on and tips for Twitter, blogging, LinkedIn, Flickr, Facebook, freelancing and other channels were good, it was in an unexpected aspect that I found the most value. Its true strength as a resource actually came from the copious references to social media sites, tools and applications that I was unaware of or unfamiliar with. Bookmarking them and then going back to check them out for myself proved to be an invaluable exercise, because it quickly became apparent that it’s possible to get lost and spend all your time trying to use the scores of sites that are supposed to be helping you save that time.
The importance of reading and digesting enormous amounts of content each and every day is another essential bit of wisdom espoused by Brogan. Not only does this help you to drum up ideas for your own social outreach, but it keeps you apprised of what competitors are doing, what has done before and what your audience is seeking. It’s all part of Brogan’s concept of “growing bigger ears”—meaning to listen more and better to what is being said not only about you or your industry, but in the world in general.
“Skim, synthesize and post.”
The overriding message of Brogan’s work, to me, is that social media is about initiative and tools. Understanding the mechanisms that will allow you to engage in the conversation that is going on around, on top of and about your company, then using them (almost all free) to forge ahead with follow-through and consistency is what social networking is truly all about. Bringing value, participating and positioning yourself as an influencer, resource and thought leader can eventually be parlayed into business opportunities. After all, folks do business with who they like, so even if they don’t have a firm need for your services, they may manufacture that need in response to the desire to partner with you specifically, based solely on what they perceive as your helpfulness as a volume information provider.
“The old way of marketing was to put up a ‘free white paper’ and hope that people would give you their e-mail address so that you could market them into submission. The new way is to create useful information or tools and share them for free with your community, without attempting lead capture, then hope that this goodwill translates into links (which help you with search) and also potential prospects.”
Brogan also spend a bit of time examining the failed 1950s-era concept of asses in seats that pervades corporations to this day, as opposed and compared to telecommuting and smart working. The proliferation of remote capability makes it illogical—and really, downright stupid—to force employees to come into the traditional concept of what an office should be for 9.0 hours per day. However, I think he’s essentially pissing in the wind on this one, until the way executive teams measure success undergoes a sea change in most business spaces.
But the reality is that return on investment is not-so-subtly transitioning to return on influence and return on engagement. Whether you choose to pursue these principles through Twitter or blogging or LinkedIn or Facebook or Flickr or wherever is up to you, but the one true truth is that it can no longer be ignored as a trend.
“Analysis paralysis is a terrible thing. Just try something. Even if you launch a really small part of your project’s intentions, now is the right time to try. What’s holding you back?”
I particularly connected with Brogan’s metaphor of viewing social media in much the same light as your local pub. Buy someone else a drink (share information), mind the joint (manage community relationships) and keep in mind what it means to extend that relationship outside the pub (where it really counts).
As millions chant cheers in the dark The difference in popularity is stark World Cup fever has struck the UK While yawns roll over the USA Me? I’m just saying, “Go Denmark!”
Expansion has beset the NCAA Money-grubbers are here to stay For relevance, the Big 10 does grasp Nebraska bolted to the Big 12’s gasp Just declare it semi-pro and move on today
Nearly half a century without a champ Now millions in Chicago can yell and stamp They invaded the City of Brotherly Love And said, “Up your ass, why don’t you shove” Then in OT, the Blackhawks lit the lamp
They called him the “Westwood Wiz” Back when it was a game, not a biz He couldn’t quite top the Pack But his heart, the game does lack RIP … basketball will always be his The Trojans have been cheating for years Pete Carroll and his steroid-infested queers Now that he’s gone to Seattle On LA, the NCAA has waged battle As Tim Floyd and Reggie Bush laugh over beers
Dickhead Cheney The NCAA is so pissed at Osama Bin Laden Pete Carroll, Reggie Bush, Tim Floyd and O.J. Mayo that they've just hammered the christ out of ... Saddam Hussein Lane Kiffin?
#1 “Flashforward,” “24,” “Heroes,” “Lost” … All gone. Killed by reality TV. God help us all.
#2 I see both sides of the Gale Sayers vs. Brian Urlacher thing. But I think it’s all pretty petty and have to believe Urlacher has bigger issues to worry about at this stage of his career.
#3 On the “New Adventures of Old Christine,” they booked a flight on Shanif Mormon Airlines, only to find that every one of their flights goes through Salt Lake City. I laughed. But I can: some of my best friends are Mormon.
#4 It was neat to see the Dolphins finally do right by #54, Zach Thomas. A throwback player from another era, we’ll never see another one like him. But to those who think the franchise has finally learned a lesson in humility, keep in mind that Thomas had to reach out to them to make this happen.
#5 Check out 108 cool "Lost" T-shirts. You gotta love #29, #34 and #56, but #45 is hands-down my favorite.
#6 So, when did women’s tennis players all get so freaking huge? I miss the days of Amanda Coetzer, Chris Evert and the like, who were not only excellent players, but rather nice to look at as well. I'd settle for just a bit of estrogen at this point; they all look like dudes in wigs now.
#7 The arrival of the remakes of “Karate Kid,” “Hawaii 5-0,” “A-Team” and the like to the big and little screen tells me two things: one, I’m getting pretty goddam old, and B, Hollywood has even less creativity than I thought if they’re not only recycling things so early, but recycling shit like that.
#8 I almost lost is when Jim Nance started quoting a Bette Midler song at the end of the Memorial Tournament to somehow “honor” Justin Rose. In such situations, is it too much to ask Nick Faldo to backhand him? I mean, isn’t that his duty? Somebody has to reign in Nance, that sanctimonious bastard, at some point.
#9 I’m sure a bit late to this party, but it just strikes me as rather funny that the actor in the wheelchair in “Glee” (although he’ll always be the kidnapped pizza delivery boy from “The Office” to me) is named Kevin McHale. I always hated Kevin “Frankenstein” McHale when he played for the Celtics.
#10 John Wooden lived the idea of love and balance. He was a coach at UCLA for 28 years, married for 53 years, lived in LA for 61 years, didn’t have a drink in 77 years and didn’t curse in 85 years. And he loved his wife as much in the quarter-century after she passed as he did while she was alive. He was the last best thing about college athletics, in my humble opinion.
I missed the beginning of “Taking of Pelham 123,” and while I thought from time to time about going back and trying to view the first 10 minutes, the impetus to actually do so eventually drifted from memory -- much like this flick.
That’s how forgettable this one was. I mean, the first time I saw it, when it was called “Money Train,” it sucked, so adding a career-floundering John Travolta and a why-choose-this-project Denzel Washington didn’t help any. Throw in the fact that it was rather far-fetched that a rather-accessible train could hold a city hostage, and you get a bad premise for a worse movie. It’s a remake of two other versions, so I’d be curious as to how those turned out (no way they could be worse).
It’s a film about a group of meanies who steal a train, and if the concept of stealing a train doesn’t set off warning bells in your mind, I don’t know quite what to tell you. It feels like a movie you’ve seen before -- and several times -- and didn’t like then, either. It’s derivate of other flicks, and Travolta and Washington can do nothing to change that. Travolta has seemingly decided to start playing not-really-intimidating villains in bad heist-type movies, while I can’t quite put my finger on why Washington annoys me so much these days, but there it is: he does.
Sorry, I just didn’t really get the point of “Taking of Pelham 123.” If I was into bad puns, I’d say director Tony Scott missed the train on this one … but instead I’ll just say this is one you can not watch and say you did.
Reduced to the recycle bin He napped during a Mariners win Farewell to an all-timer, Ken Griffey Injuries made him play stiffly We’ll always wonder what might have been
Cheating at Kansas, did you hear? NCAA to turn a blind eye and ear It happened under the watch of Roy Boy Basketball robbed of tradition and joy Keep moving, nothing to see here
An EZU footballer went streaking Of booze and stupidity he was reeking His run ended when he got tazed He pretended he was unfazed But poop down his leg he was leaking
Into TV chaos I’ve been tossed Who knew this is what it would cost? On it, I used to be depend Like saying goodbye to an old friend Without “Lost,” I’m kinda “Lost” An umpire blew a perfect game Now everybody knows his name Wishes he toiled in anonymity At least he showed some humility Umps with egos are annoying and lame
When I saw the Swell Season in downtown Raleigh at Meymandi Concert Hall in 2008, I considered it, overall, maybe the best concert experience I had ever had. Flash forward two years into the future, think about a band that is truly refining its sound and substitute the setting for an outdoor venue at the beautifully renovated North Carolina Museum of Art, and in my estimation you have an even more incredible show by a truly amazing band.
Most still think of the Swell Season as the redheaded offspring of Glen Hansard’s the Frames and the landmark movie “Once,” with Hansard and the immensely talented Marketa Irglova taking their on-screen romance into real life and, well, on-stage again as the Swell Season. But even that tremendous movie discounts not only the individual talents of Hansard, the ultimate showman, and Irglova, the sweet-voiced pianist, but also the incredible array of skills offered by the rest of the band: Colm Mac Con Iomaire (violin), Rob Bochnik (guitar), Joseph Doyle (bass) and Graham Hopkins (drums). While the supporting cast changes from time to time, the music is always spot on.
This overall tightness is even more remarkable when you consider how spontaneous the set list and transitions can be, with Hansard often inspired to pull a song out of the vault to match a moment and relying on his bandmates to be on key and in lock step with him. A hysterical example of this is when a pair of drunken lesbians were essentially kicked out of the front of the audience because they kept standing up directly in front of Hansard, blocking views. This led Hansard to allow them to stand at the back of the stage as he laughingly played a tongue-in-cheek solo of “Leave.”
The story of Thelma and Louise: Part Butch was part of a larger, slightly combative atmosphere created from the start of the show between the band, the venue and the audience (partly bolstered by an over-emphatic black dude who appeared to be, um, attending a rather different concert than everyone else). Just moments after the Museum of Art’s director sternly asked that no one enter the 30-foot chasm between the front rows of the amphitheater out of respect for the big donors just before introducing the band, Hansard came out and said that folks could fill in the empty spaces because he was a bit freaked out by the disconnection between band and audience. This led to a mass rush of people from the lawn to grab the select seating just in front of the band, which led to some moaning from the stodgy, older big-money folks, who had no idea who the Swell Season were but knew damned well that they had paid big scratch for the right to ensure that no hippie kind rubbed elbows with them or obstructed their view.
When the duo mentioned before were admonished by fellow fans (who were sitting where they weren’t supposed to be as well), Hansard intervened to invite them on stage. By way of explanation, he said that he wasn’t trying to be sarcastic or controversial, but he felt that people at a concert should be able to stand or sing along if they want. “It is a rock show, after all,” he said, completely pissing off a couple score of upper-crust prepsters -- while simultaneously encapsulating his entire musical philosophy in seven words.
Because what is apart and above about the Swell Season is that indelible and sacred bond with the audience, a forged camaraderie that is just not seen in bands these days. So many acts are about themselves; the Swell Season is about you, the crowd. They realize and value the idea that they are there for you, that you have paid for the right to be a part of their entertainment, and they truly cherish and honor that dynamic. The fact that they love what they do seeps through their music, and it is a truly refreshing sight to see—and sound to hear.
Heck, Hansard spends much of his time asking for audience participation, whether that is to harmonize a chorus, sing along or offer up a song request. The collaborative feel pinnacled when, during an encore cover of Bruce Springsteen’s “Drive All Night,” Hansard called up a dude out of the crowd who delivered a couple chorus repeats before introducing the band and thanking them on behalf of the crowd. It was a hilarious moment—leading to a hug between Hansard and the dude and Hansard remarking that the guy just performed an “intense act of bravery”—and one that is special and unique to the Swell Season.
At this point, you may have noticed that I have spoken almost exclusively about Hansard and not Irglova; well, you are right, and that’s no accident. Throughout the show, Irglova, sporting super-short hair, seemed very reserved and subdued. She has always been shy, but she seemed to be put off to the side and not as involved as usual, leading me to speculate that there had to be some reason for the seeming disconnection and detachment. Well, sure enough, I later learned that she and Hansard, who had a two-year romance, split up relatively recently (he’s 40, she’s 22). I have to wonder whether Hansard’s outsized personality has now completely overpowered and swallowed up Irglova, who is more low-key and introspective. He dominates the stage and the band, and while that can’t be held against him, it seems to have forced Irglova into kind of a submissive role of sitting quietly next to the piano and waiting to contribute every seven songs or so. I even thought Hansard should not have provided backup on Irglova’s “I Have Loved You Wrong”; his voice detracted from Irglova’s and was wholly unnecessary.
The latest album, “Strict Joy,” is much more melancholy than much of the work of the Frames and Swell Season, and Hansard admitted that a big reason why is the breakup of he and Irglova; apparently they had to add in a couple of up-tempo songs in order to save the entire thing from sounding like suicide folk rock.
It’s possible I’m reading too much into what I construed as some tension between Hansard and Irglova, because one article indicated that they both agreed on wanting to continue to tour and play together to see how it felt. However, part of me is hoping against hope that I’m wrong in thinking that Irglova may eventually strike out on her own in the not-too-distant future.
As to the actual music, the Swell Season is among those oh-so-rare bands that is better live than recorded. Among the highlights were a tremendous cover of Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic,” a repeat of a favorite from the 2008 show, the Pixies’ “Cactus,” a kickoff with the sticks-with-you “Low Rising,” an all-to-the-front rendition of “Gold,” a frantic playing of “The Verb,” and a very moving version of “When Your Mind’s Made Up.” I wasn’t a fan of the selection of the Springsteen tune, but with a 45-minute encore, who the hell am I to complain?
The bottom line is the Swell Season live is one of the most phenomenal musical experiences you can have. The raw power of the band is in direct reciprocation of you as the audience -- they encourage, inspire and feed off the energy of the crowd. It’s what music is truly supposed to be about.
As Hansard himself said, “It is a rock show, after all.”
For reasons I may never be able to explain without the assistance of a therapist, this song popped into my head the other day. It's catchy. The ice cream wasn't that good, though. Oh well.
But having a jingle for a cheap ice cream maker based on a fucking cartoon dog stay in someone's head for 30-plus years has to be the definition of good marketing, no?
