This is the most ridiculous non-answer I've ever gotten, with a not-so-subtle advertising twist to it that disgustingly perpetuates the consumerist, narcissistic culture of America.
Yes, I bought shorts from Abercrombie and Fitch. I'm not all that sweet and innocent. I bought the shorts online and wanted to ask if they had zippers or buttons. This was the response I got:
>>>>>>>
Hey ,
The best way to find out details about our products-like whether the shorts are button up or zip-is to see the products face to face. We suggest heading to your nearest A&F store.
But we understand you can’t always do that. Here at A&F, we strive to set trends-not follow them-so you can be sure that whatever you order from us is going to be as popular as it is fashion-forward.
If for some reason you’re unhappy with what you ordered, no problem. Just use our simple return and exchange process. You can either send back the items that don’t work or take them to any of our A&F stores for a refund. But we think you’ll love our style as much as we do.
Rachael
Customer Service
Abercrombie & Fitch
Check us out!
>>>>>>>>>
I feel like I want to scrub myself clean from that whole "we're going to tell you what you SHOULD like" brain-washy attitude that reeks from its pores. Plus, ok, thanks for a response, but no thanks for the non-response. They didn't answer my question! I don't think the question is really that difficult. This just feels like laziness on their part.
Come on, put in a little bit of effort, Abercrombie & Fitch. After the whole disaster with your racially incorrect T-shirts in 2002 where you implied that people who look like me are "wong" (or, wrong, is what you implied with your "Two Wongs Make a White, Wong Brothers Laundry" shirts) and would be better off "white," I'm willing to get over it and give you good money. The least you can do is tell me what I'm purchasing rather than giving me what equates to an automated message with my inquiry inserted in sloppily. Seriously, this is a response I would expect from someone really really dumb. Maybe those are the only kind of people you're able to hire because anyone with a brain can see through your bullshit in a second.
Wow. Reading my last three posts, I realize I'm on a roll here with whining and complaining about stuff. Sorry, dear readers. All 2 of you.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Get yo' shit togetha, lady.
This is gonna be a judgmental post - more of a vent/rant. Just a warning that this blog might be a little mean-spirited today. Because I'm crabby. And you'll see why.
I just dealt with this woman who must have been the most incompetent person ever. Ok, not the most incompetent ever, but it was frustrating.
I need to sublease my apartment from August 1st till September, when my lease is up. This woman calls me incessantly and wants to come see the apartment during times when I'm not in. This was essentially the conversation, via a combination of a couple emails and a couple phone calls:
Her: When can I come see it?
Me: Friday afternoon or early evening.
Her: I can't come then. Um, can I come this weekend?
Me: I'm not going to be around until Sunday late evening. You can come on Monday too.
Her: Well, can I come Saturday morning?
What did I just say?! (BTW, her whole "can I come Saturday morning" bit was left via phone message...TWICE)
Ok, whatever, the reason why I didn't want anyone here Saturday morning is because I planned on being asleep. So I told her, fine, thinking to myself that I can just get a couple hours less sleep than I'd like.
We planned on meeting at 10am. So this morning, I got up at 9:30am (this is REALLY early for me, folks), showered, got all presentable, and waited. And waited. 10:30 rolls around, and I get a call from someone else who's interested. They said they'd be here in before 11 to check out the apartment. At least I wasn't awake for no good reason.
Right after they called, she calls me and says she'll be another 20 minutes, and asks which subway to take. I couldn't understand her too well (she speaks with an accent), and asked for clarification, at which point she abruptly hangs up on me. WTF, lady. You're already going to be an hour late. Did you know that's an extra hour of sleep I could have gotten?
So, I texted her the cross street and the subway stop.
The other people interested came and went - right on time. I waited around more and watched Dexter while waiting for this woman to call. At 11:15, OVER AN HOUR after the original scheduled time, she finally calls to say she's downstairs.
Ok, here's the thing. If I schedule something, and I'm even ten minutes late, I'll apologize. She was...a lot later than that. Not a single word of apology. That made me simmer even more. Seriously, have the decency to realize you're taking someone's time. And if you're an hour late, you've wasted an hour of it. It's called being POLITE.
As we're walking up, and she comes up with the excuse that the trains were not stopping at local stops. The COPE part of me comes out a little here - the part that wants things to be clear and efficient. So I asked her again, and she said, yes, the train was only making express stops.
"So," I asked, "you got off at..."
"59th Columbus Circle," she responded.
I asked if she took the 1 train. Yes, she responded. (ok, at this point, I realize I'm probably unfairly grilling her, but seriously, over an HOUR after? I was crabby, oh, and I just checked the NYCT Service Advisory for today and the 1 train is running normally, which means stopping at all local stops)
"59th isn't an express stop. It's a local stop." At this point, I just want her to go away. I've already concluded that I'm not renting out my place to her because she's clearly not that reliable, and seems kind of confused. I even went as far as to ask her if she lives in New York. Which she did. Ok...
Finally, we get to the apartment, and she's looking around, and I show her the bedroom. I said I'd leave the AC window unit in, and in an attempt to move things along (since she wasn't asking any questions or anything), I asked, "So how long would you need the apartment for?" I was prepared to give her information about renewing the lease in September if she needed it more than the month.
"Until the end of July."
I wasn't sure I heard her correctly. "What? No, when do you need it?"
"Now, and until the end of July."
"Uh...did you read the posting? It said this apartment wouldn't be available until August 1st."
At this point, she didn't BELIEVE me. She kept saying how she emailed me dates that she needed to stay. Bullshit. I pulled up the original post (which, as you can see, clearly states the date), as well as her first email to me, which reads as such:
"Hello,
"I am very interested in renting your apt, posted at Craiglist.com, located in midtown.
"Your date fits for me too.
I'd like to see as soon as possible.
I'll be available to come today.
"Please let me now as soon as possible.
You may call at ******** or email *************
NOWHERE in any other email did she mention that she needed the apartment right away. I told her that the office might have sublets available, but at that point, I just wanted to get on with my day. And I'm already sleep deprived and tired, and I have a long day.
Look, I feel like I'm pretty fair (even nice) when it comes to doing business and whatnot, but I have a really hard time tolerating incompetence, inefficiency, not doing your homework beforehand (especially if it's something you care about, and she did care about this --- just look at how many times she called me), and not having respect for other people's time and efforts (ok, I realize I can be late a lot, so I definitely need to work on this myself, but at least I APOLOGIZE. And I feel really bad about it.) So, read the fucking post, lady. And stop wasting my time.
This also came on the heels of someone who said they wanted my toaster and just never showed up yesterday. No call, no email. Ok, that's just RUDE.
I just dealt with this woman who must have been the most incompetent person ever. Ok, not the most incompetent ever, but it was frustrating.
I need to sublease my apartment from August 1st till September, when my lease is up. This woman calls me incessantly and wants to come see the apartment during times when I'm not in. This was essentially the conversation, via a combination of a couple emails and a couple phone calls:
Her: When can I come see it?
Me: Friday afternoon or early evening.
Her: I can't come then. Um, can I come this weekend?
Me: I'm not going to be around until Sunday late evening. You can come on Monday too.
Her: Well, can I come Saturday morning?
What did I just say?! (BTW, her whole "can I come Saturday morning" bit was left via phone message...TWICE)
Ok, whatever, the reason why I didn't want anyone here Saturday morning is because I planned on being asleep. So I told her, fine, thinking to myself that I can just get a couple hours less sleep than I'd like.
We planned on meeting at 10am. So this morning, I got up at 9:30am (this is REALLY early for me, folks), showered, got all presentable, and waited. And waited. 10:30 rolls around, and I get a call from someone else who's interested. They said they'd be here in before 11 to check out the apartment. At least I wasn't awake for no good reason.
Right after they called, she calls me and says she'll be another 20 minutes, and asks which subway to take. I couldn't understand her too well (she speaks with an accent), and asked for clarification, at which point she abruptly hangs up on me. WTF, lady. You're already going to be an hour late. Did you know that's an extra hour of sleep I could have gotten?
So, I texted her the cross street and the subway stop.
The other people interested came and went - right on time. I waited around more and watched Dexter while waiting for this woman to call. At 11:15, OVER AN HOUR after the original scheduled time, she finally calls to say she's downstairs.
Ok, here's the thing. If I schedule something, and I'm even ten minutes late, I'll apologize. She was...a lot later than that. Not a single word of apology. That made me simmer even more. Seriously, have the decency to realize you're taking someone's time. And if you're an hour late, you've wasted an hour of it. It's called being POLITE.
As we're walking up, and she comes up with the excuse that the trains were not stopping at local stops. The COPE part of me comes out a little here - the part that wants things to be clear and efficient. So I asked her again, and she said, yes, the train was only making express stops.
"So," I asked, "you got off at..."
"59th Columbus Circle," she responded.
I asked if she took the 1 train. Yes, she responded. (ok, at this point, I realize I'm probably unfairly grilling her, but seriously, over an HOUR after? I was crabby, oh, and I just checked the NYCT Service Advisory for today and the 1 train is running normally, which means stopping at all local stops)
"59th isn't an express stop. It's a local stop." At this point, I just want her to go away. I've already concluded that I'm not renting out my place to her because she's clearly not that reliable, and seems kind of confused. I even went as far as to ask her if she lives in New York. Which she did. Ok...
Finally, we get to the apartment, and she's looking around, and I show her the bedroom. I said I'd leave the AC window unit in, and in an attempt to move things along (since she wasn't asking any questions or anything), I asked, "So how long would you need the apartment for?" I was prepared to give her information about renewing the lease in September if she needed it more than the month.
"Until the end of July."
I wasn't sure I heard her correctly. "What? No, when do you need it?"
"Now, and until the end of July."
"Uh...did you read the posting? It said this apartment wouldn't be available until August 1st."
At this point, she didn't BELIEVE me. She kept saying how she emailed me dates that she needed to stay. Bullshit. I pulled up the original post (which, as you can see, clearly states the date), as well as her first email to me, which reads as such:
"Hello,
"I am very interested in renting your apt, posted at Craiglist.com, located in midtown.
"Your date fits for me too.
I'd like to see as soon as possible.
I'll be available to come today.
"Please let me now as soon as possible.
You may call at ******** or email *************
NOWHERE in any other email did she mention that she needed the apartment right away. I told her that the office might have sublets available, but at that point, I just wanted to get on with my day. And I'm already sleep deprived and tired, and I have a long day.
Look, I feel like I'm pretty fair (even nice) when it comes to doing business and whatnot, but I have a really hard time tolerating incompetence, inefficiency, not doing your homework beforehand (especially if it's something you care about, and she did care about this --- just look at how many times she called me), and not having respect for other people's time and efforts (ok, I realize I can be late a lot, so I definitely need to work on this myself, but at least I APOLOGIZE. And I feel really bad about it.) So, read the fucking post, lady. And stop wasting my time.
This also came on the heels of someone who said they wanted my toaster and just never showed up yesterday. No call, no email. Ok, that's just RUDE.
Is @ASCAP on crack?
Here's the article.
Yup. Definitely seems to be the case of an institution (ASCAP - American Society of Composers, Authors, and Publishers) not looking out for the rights of those it claims to protect, but taking away options and avenues of exposure for people who CHOOSE to freely share their OWN music and OWN creations.
It's almost like saying you don't want gay marriage because, oh god! If the GAYS can marry, then people can marry all SORTS of things like their DOG or an AMOEBA. (which, BTW, is a dog a consenting adult? yea, didn't think so)
As in, wanting to hitting the nail on the head, except the nail is 10 feet away from where the hammer is striking. You're not solving the actual problem, you're just running around like a chicken with your head cut off because you're at an utter loss as to how to approach the ACTUAL problem.
Yup. Definitely seems to be the case of an institution (ASCAP - American Society of Composers, Authors, and Publishers) not looking out for the rights of those it claims to protect, but taking away options and avenues of exposure for people who CHOOSE to freely share their OWN music and OWN creations.
It's almost like saying you don't want gay marriage because, oh god! If the GAYS can marry, then people can marry all SORTS of things like their DOG or an AMOEBA. (which, BTW, is a dog a consenting adult? yea, didn't think so)
As in, wanting to hitting the nail on the head, except the nail is 10 feet away from where the hammer is striking. You're not solving the actual problem, you're just running around like a chicken with your head cut off because you're at an utter loss as to how to approach the ACTUAL problem.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Synchronicity
Small world.
On Monday, one of my professors at NYU, Sal Fallica, emailed me about an article that was going to appear in the NY Times on Tuesday about Justin Bieber's backup singers, an Asian American music group called Legaci (which was discovered via YouTube, apparently).
On Tuesday, I was at my friend Evan's going away party (for which, he says, I have the best excuse not to show up - we're going to be at USC together for a very very long time), and at the party, I caught up with two old friends, Claire and Sloan, who mentioned that Dawen was mentioned in the New York Times. The same day, I saw that Alfa (check out her new music vid on her site: alfa-music.com) had written a congratulatory note to Melissa Polinar for her mention in the New York Times. Melissa and I had songs that were featured on the same sampler mix on Asiantalentonline.com years ago, and I had fallen madly in love with her song, "Meant For Me."
Today (Wednesday), I received an email from USC - the CommLine newsletter, the one for Annenberg, and realized the article is written by Josh Kun, who is the professor at USC I spoke with when I visited in March because I felt we had similar research interests and I would learn a lot from working with him.
Fun, eh?
Here's the article:
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/20/arts/music/20legaci.html
On Monday, one of my professors at NYU, Sal Fallica, emailed me about an article that was going to appear in the NY Times on Tuesday about Justin Bieber's backup singers, an Asian American music group called Legaci (which was discovered via YouTube, apparently).
On Tuesday, I was at my friend Evan's going away party (for which, he says, I have the best excuse not to show up - we're going to be at USC together for a very very long time), and at the party, I caught up with two old friends, Claire and Sloan, who mentioned that Dawen was mentioned in the New York Times. The same day, I saw that Alfa (check out her new music vid on her site: alfa-music.com) had written a congratulatory note to Melissa Polinar for her mention in the New York Times. Melissa and I had songs that were featured on the same sampler mix on Asiantalentonline.com years ago, and I had fallen madly in love with her song, "Meant For Me."
Today (Wednesday), I received an email from USC - the CommLine newsletter, the one for Annenberg, and realized the article is written by Josh Kun, who is the professor at USC I spoke with when I visited in March because I felt we had similar research interests and I would learn a lot from working with him.
Fun, eh?
Here's the article:
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/20/arts/music/20legaci.html
Monday, June 21, 2010
A day in the life...
I usually don't blog about my day because I find that prosaic, but today was just...a really weird day. I woke up in Queens, as I'm there cat-sitting for Ray and Robbi, and went to have tea at Alice's Tea Cup with the other Cynthia. For those of you who have been to Alice's and have partaken in their awesome afternoon tea sets, you know that there is a LOT of food, and you're allowed a to-go container. Which is what happened.
While walking home with my container of leftover Alice's, a random woman made a beeline for me and grabbed a hold of my container. And pulled. I pulled back. She wouldn't let go! And she looked me in the eye and said "Thank you." I deliberated about 5 seconds. 5 pretty long seconds. She said "Thank you" again. Uh. Whatever. I said "ok" and let go. I figure, she probably needed the food more than I did, but...would it have hurt to ask rather than just...assume?! SO bizarre.
Later in the afternoon, my brother and I caught a quick dinner at Flor de Mayo, this Chinese-Peruvian fusion place uptown that has amazing chicken and amazing other foods. Quick dinner, because we were supposed to catch the screening of Mikado Project (a film Ray stars in, and I make a cameo appearance, which also marks my "screen debut" - in quotations because this may very well be the last time I'm ever on screen). I sent a quick text to Chil (the director) to say hi and let him know I was looking forward to seeing the fruits of our labor from last summer. He texted back with something along the lines of, "Uh, Cynthia. The screening is NEXT MONTH." At first, I thought he was yanking my chain, so I CALLED him. He wasn't kidding. Apparently, I had read the date wrong. It wasn't JUNE 20th, it's JULY 20th. Needless to say, Kenneth and I found ourselves with an evening free, which we decided to spend watching Toy Story 3.
We made a quick stop at home, where we sat in front of the air conditioner in my room for a good while, until I jumped 3 feet in the air because something was buzzing around my head. I turn to see a huge flying insect-like object hovering around my desk. Just as I was about to take the latest issue of People magazine to smash it, it lights up. Bright green. It's a firefly!! I can't kill a firefly! People write songs about them! So, with the help of my brother, we liberated it outside in the courtyard after trapping it in a plastic cup. Sort of dumped it in some plants. Then we sat staring at if for a couple minutes because, while it was moving, it didn't seem interested in flying away or showing us any pyrotechnics. Finally, it feebly gave off some light, as if to say, "I'm ok, you guys can stop staring at my ass now." Kenneth prodded me and quipped, "Ok, let's go. It still works. It's butt is lighting up. I wish my butt lit up like that. It would be so convenient in dark rooms." Then he attempted to demonstrate how his butt would light up if it could. I won't go into details.
Toy Story 3 was fantastic. But the 3D was so unnecessary. Just the theatre's way of making more money. Damnit.
And after dinner, we got a midnight snack at Landmarc, where we both ended up rolling ourselves out the door, and decided we needed to burn some of the food off, resulting in a very VERY late night walk out to Riverside Park, where we found two pianos sitting in the middle of the pier. Apparently it's some sort of project where the pianos are out there for public use. They were even painted with the words "Play me" or something like that on it. So we did. At 2am. In the middle of the Hudson River. SO RANDOM.
And this is at the end of a week of my brother in NYC, where he got very lost on the subway. Oh, this one's a fun story.
A few days ago, I asked Kenneth to meet me and a few friends in Union Square for dinner. We were going to walk to Madison Square Park (23rd Street) for Shake Shack at 5pm. 5:15 rolls around, and no word from Kenneth. It's fine, I get it. No reception in the subway. 5:30. I get a little bit worried. At this point, I'm checking my phone every minute, wondering where he is, with horrible scenarios of my little brother (who, ok, is taller and stronger than me) getting raped or robbed or killed in NYC. He finally calls at 5:45, and this is how the conversation goes:
Me: Where the hell have you been?!
Kenneth: On the subway! I was on the subway for over an hour! There was no Union Square stop.
Me: (uh ok whatever, I didn't believe him) Well, where are you now?
Kenneth: Uhh, I'm at 59th Street.
Me: (assuming he's talking about 59th/Lex stop off the R) It does not take an hour to get to 59th Street. Did something happen?
Kenneth: No! I think it just looped back around. I'm at 61st Street and 4th Avenue.
Me: (something doesn't feel right, since there's no 4th Ave at 61st Street - it's called Park Ave. Are you guys getting it?) Uh. Ok. Just take the R back to 23rd Street. That's where we're at.
(MORE THAN A HALF HOUR GOES BY. HE FINALLY CALLS AGAIN)
Kenneth: There was no 23rd Street stop.
Me: ....are you sure you're on the R?
Kenneth: Yes! I'm on the R!
Me: Uh. Ok, where are you now?
Kenneth: At 23rd and 4th Ave.
Me: Head west, and you'll see Madison Square Park.
(A FEW MINUTES LATER)
Kenneth: I'm at 23rd and 5th.
Me: Did you see the park?
Kenneth: No.
Me: Did you pass Broadway?
Kenneth: No.
Me: ..........are you in Manhattan?!
Kenneth: Uh, I don't know!
Me: Well, are there any tall buildings?
Kenneth: Uh...no.
It turns out he was in BROOKLYN. At that point, he was so frustrated he just wanted to go home and watch the Lakers game in QUEENS. Which is what he did. We're calling this incident Kenneth's Four Hour Mis-Adventure on the NYC Subway System.
It's way past time to sleep. But I'm sitting here writing this blog as I'm waiting for laundry to be done.
While walking home with my container of leftover Alice's, a random woman made a beeline for me and grabbed a hold of my container. And pulled. I pulled back. She wouldn't let go! And she looked me in the eye and said "Thank you." I deliberated about 5 seconds. 5 pretty long seconds. She said "Thank you" again. Uh. Whatever. I said "ok" and let go. I figure, she probably needed the food more than I did, but...would it have hurt to ask rather than just...assume?! SO bizarre.
Later in the afternoon, my brother and I caught a quick dinner at Flor de Mayo, this Chinese-Peruvian fusion place uptown that has amazing chicken and amazing other foods. Quick dinner, because we were supposed to catch the screening of Mikado Project (a film Ray stars in, and I make a cameo appearance, which also marks my "screen debut" - in quotations because this may very well be the last time I'm ever on screen). I sent a quick text to Chil (the director) to say hi and let him know I was looking forward to seeing the fruits of our labor from last summer. He texted back with something along the lines of, "Uh, Cynthia. The screening is NEXT MONTH." At first, I thought he was yanking my chain, so I CALLED him. He wasn't kidding. Apparently, I had read the date wrong. It wasn't JUNE 20th, it's JULY 20th. Needless to say, Kenneth and I found ourselves with an evening free, which we decided to spend watching Toy Story 3.
We made a quick stop at home, where we sat in front of the air conditioner in my room for a good while, until I jumped 3 feet in the air because something was buzzing around my head. I turn to see a huge flying insect-like object hovering around my desk. Just as I was about to take the latest issue of People magazine to smash it, it lights up. Bright green. It's a firefly!! I can't kill a firefly! People write songs about them! So, with the help of my brother, we liberated it outside in the courtyard after trapping it in a plastic cup. Sort of dumped it in some plants. Then we sat staring at if for a couple minutes because, while it was moving, it didn't seem interested in flying away or showing us any pyrotechnics. Finally, it feebly gave off some light, as if to say, "I'm ok, you guys can stop staring at my ass now." Kenneth prodded me and quipped, "Ok, let's go. It still works. It's butt is lighting up. I wish my butt lit up like that. It would be so convenient in dark rooms." Then he attempted to demonstrate how his butt would light up if it could. I won't go into details.
Toy Story 3 was fantastic. But the 3D was so unnecessary. Just the theatre's way of making more money. Damnit.
And after dinner, we got a midnight snack at Landmarc, where we both ended up rolling ourselves out the door, and decided we needed to burn some of the food off, resulting in a very VERY late night walk out to Riverside Park, where we found two pianos sitting in the middle of the pier. Apparently it's some sort of project where the pianos are out there for public use. They were even painted with the words "Play me" or something like that on it. So we did. At 2am. In the middle of the Hudson River. SO RANDOM.
And this is at the end of a week of my brother in NYC, where he got very lost on the subway. Oh, this one's a fun story.
A few days ago, I asked Kenneth to meet me and a few friends in Union Square for dinner. We were going to walk to Madison Square Park (23rd Street) for Shake Shack at 5pm. 5:15 rolls around, and no word from Kenneth. It's fine, I get it. No reception in the subway. 5:30. I get a little bit worried. At this point, I'm checking my phone every minute, wondering where he is, with horrible scenarios of my little brother (who, ok, is taller and stronger than me) getting raped or robbed or killed in NYC. He finally calls at 5:45, and this is how the conversation goes:
Me: Where the hell have you been?!
Kenneth: On the subway! I was on the subway for over an hour! There was no Union Square stop.
Me: (uh ok whatever, I didn't believe him) Well, where are you now?
Kenneth: Uhh, I'm at 59th Street.
Me: (assuming he's talking about 59th/Lex stop off the R) It does not take an hour to get to 59th Street. Did something happen?
Kenneth: No! I think it just looped back around. I'm at 61st Street and 4th Avenue.
Me: (something doesn't feel right, since there's no 4th Ave at 61st Street - it's called Park Ave. Are you guys getting it?) Uh. Ok. Just take the R back to 23rd Street. That's where we're at.
(MORE THAN A HALF HOUR GOES BY. HE FINALLY CALLS AGAIN)
Kenneth: There was no 23rd Street stop.
Me: ....are you sure you're on the R?
Kenneth: Yes! I'm on the R!
Me: Uh. Ok, where are you now?
Kenneth: At 23rd and 4th Ave.
Me: Head west, and you'll see Madison Square Park.
(A FEW MINUTES LATER)
Kenneth: I'm at 23rd and 5th.
Me: Did you see the park?
Kenneth: No.
Me: Did you pass Broadway?
Kenneth: No.
Me: ..........are you in Manhattan?!
Kenneth: Uh, I don't know!
Me: Well, are there any tall buildings?
Kenneth: Uh...no.
It turns out he was in BROOKLYN. At that point, he was so frustrated he just wanted to go home and watch the Lakers game in QUEENS. Which is what he did. We're calling this incident Kenneth's Four Hour Mis-Adventure on the NYC Subway System.
It's way past time to sleep. But I'm sitting here writing this blog as I'm waiting for laundry to be done.
Monday, June 07, 2010
"Democratizing Talent" not so democratic
The latest example of "democratizing talent" seems to be this video of Grayson Chance playing Paparazzi. I tweeted my eye-rolling reaction to it, but felt I needed a bit more than 140 characters to express why this bothers me so much.
I think what bothers me most is how we like to invoke "democracy" whenever someone is "discovered" online. It's not democracy, people. It's luck. Wait, let me elaborate before you jump down my throat.
People getting "discovered" online is much like how it happens in an offline world. We can sit around here and say that the Internet "makes space" for everyone with a computer and an Internet connection to post media and distribute art, and sure it does. But you can also make space by putting your artwork up on a street corner. Doesn't mean how talented you are, if someone from traditional media doesn't see it, doesn't think it's good, you're dead in the water. (of course, this works the other way too - you've got to be talented, or that curator of the MoMA or the record executive from BMG isn't going to give you a second glance, unless it's one of abject horror)
The article states how Grayson has teamed up with Guy Oseary (a manager), who's a traditional media guy (read: plays and understands the game of music industry power, and probably makes up a few of the rules himself). Look at the chain of happenings - it's not about talent - it's about popularity, and, perhaps, how easily impressed we are nowadays. Shervin Pishevar (the author of the article that riled me up) received the video through Nowmov, which is this box of algorithmic fun, spewing out what "collective intelligence" deems worth the time of millions of Internet users. It has nothing to do with talent. After all, "David After Dentist" (60 million views) and "Charlie Bit My Finger" (close to 200 million views) are two of the most popular videos out there. And damn, those kids are wicked talented (facetious, people). (I use this example to say that just because something is viewed many times does not mean its subjects are necessarily "talented," and while I will admit to not knowing much about Nowmov, it looks like an algorithmic trap based more on numbers than human opinion and sensitivities)
It is also because of Pishevar's connections with the music industry's Powers That Be that propelled little Grayson into the pop culture stratosphere, and indeed, his seemingly personal relationship with Ashton Kutcher, who is involved with Nowmov. How about the other thousands of would be Elton Johns and Billy Joels out there?
So stop patting yourself on the back for thinking you've helped in the process of democratizing talent. Truly democratizing talent (or to make an argument that the Internet does so) would be for all kids who are talented, who have YouTube videos, to gain economically (like Grayson Chance will, no doubt) from their talent. No, right now, it's all about the bottom line for those entities at the top (the PTBs) who hold all the cards and in their fickle benevolence bestow fame and fortune upon the select few.
I think what bothers me most is how we like to invoke "democracy" whenever someone is "discovered" online. It's not democracy, people. It's luck. Wait, let me elaborate before you jump down my throat.
People getting "discovered" online is much like how it happens in an offline world. We can sit around here and say that the Internet "makes space" for everyone with a computer and an Internet connection to post media and distribute art, and sure it does. But you can also make space by putting your artwork up on a street corner. Doesn't mean how talented you are, if someone from traditional media doesn't see it, doesn't think it's good, you're dead in the water. (of course, this works the other way too - you've got to be talented, or that curator of the MoMA or the record executive from BMG isn't going to give you a second glance, unless it's one of abject horror)
The article states how Grayson has teamed up with Guy Oseary (a manager), who's a traditional media guy (read: plays and understands the game of music industry power, and probably makes up a few of the rules himself). Look at the chain of happenings - it's not about talent - it's about popularity, and, perhaps, how easily impressed we are nowadays. Shervin Pishevar (the author of the article that riled me up) received the video through Nowmov, which is this box of algorithmic fun, spewing out what "collective intelligence" deems worth the time of millions of Internet users. It has nothing to do with talent. After all, "David After Dentist" (60 million views) and "Charlie Bit My Finger" (close to 200 million views) are two of the most popular videos out there. And damn, those kids are wicked talented (facetious, people). (I use this example to say that just because something is viewed many times does not mean its subjects are necessarily "talented," and while I will admit to not knowing much about Nowmov, it looks like an algorithmic trap based more on numbers than human opinion and sensitivities)
It is also because of Pishevar's connections with the music industry's Powers That Be that propelled little Grayson into the pop culture stratosphere, and indeed, his seemingly personal relationship with Ashton Kutcher, who is involved with Nowmov. How about the other thousands of would be Elton Johns and Billy Joels out there?
So stop patting yourself on the back for thinking you've helped in the process of democratizing talent. Truly democratizing talent (or to make an argument that the Internet does so) would be for all kids who are talented, who have YouTube videos, to gain economically (like Grayson Chance will, no doubt) from their talent. No, right now, it's all about the bottom line for those entities at the top (the PTBs) who hold all the cards and in their fickle benevolence bestow fame and fortune upon the select few.
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
The latest in the Turtle Vs. Fish Saga
Email from my mom (Soupe is our turtle's name):
"Our fish family is shrinking though while soupe is growing big. A couple weeks ago, the fish population was 5 plus 1 (that small one). Just few days ago, it became 4 plus 1. Daddy was shouting yesterday... now 3 plus 1!!! That little one swims fast so he survives from the big jaw. Or maybe he is too skinny that does not attract soupe's appetite.. Please pray for the remaining fish family."
"Our fish family is shrinking though while soupe is growing big. A couple weeks ago, the fish population was 5 plus 1 (that small one). Just few days ago, it became 4 plus 1. Daddy was shouting yesterday... now 3 plus 1!!! That little one swims fast so he survives from the big jaw. Or maybe he is too skinny that does not attract soupe's appetite.. Please pray for the remaining fish family."
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