The Era of

I think we wait too long to name our eras. The flappers didn't think of their decade as roaring -- it was for others to name. And the decade of greed was seen as such in hindsight only. The "me decade" the "you decade" all those great names were given to a time period either late in it or after. The only exceptions to this are self christenings made by important people who have some sort of societally ceded right to have a world view and authority to pronounce "meaning."

I want to be that person so I've been paying attention.

A long time ago, and a lifetime away, I dabbled in radio. I interned at and worked at some big name commercial radio stations and found out some dirty truths. Secret numero uno -- requests are a tightly controlled and usually ignored commodity. While every caller's request was written down and counted, and the stations always wanted to know what people wanted to hear (or were buying at the local record stores) it was unusual for a station to suspend its corporate playlist and play some deep cut from a band whose claim to fame was that the drummer's brother was the road manager for an indy band that opened for 'til tuesday on a windy Thursday in 1986. While college and other stations played what the audience asked for (sometimes) the big boys hoped that what was requested was already going to be played so that they could at once validate their playlists and satisfy the masses. If a request wasn't exactly what was intended, another song by the band could have the caller's name attached to it, or the request could be taped and held until it was useful. Isolated time slots which were based on carefully vetted requests or singular moments where an off the page request could be inserted appeared but were not the norm. I have noticed that the world is changing.

What we have now is a universe where we thrive on having a personal control of things. We can carry a veritable radio station in our pocket -- an mp3 player loaded with our favorite songs, a video playlist closely chosen to cut across personal tastes and memories, an online music resource which can determine what we like and find more songs specifically in that direction. Our news can be auto generated based on what we want to read...websites are recommended to us based on what we look at. Product ads appear tailored for us and we can choose to turn on any number of filters to control exactly what we see and/or hear. Radio stations have to stop being about what they think we want to hear and more about letting us control what we hear. Niche marketing has moved us from mass communication to a world of stations designed for a single user. We are in the Era of Control. If you stumble across me online, you can find what I like in sports teams, music, news and other people. You can look at the MYspace page and see who I am. You can look at Itunes and get into my musical head. I can make my world, craft the environment and keep out the sonically undesirable. Technology has both driven us apart, as citizens in a world of one, and brought us together, giving us free access to whatever we can use to define ourselves and advertise our leanings to anyone who happens upon our digital billboard. We have learned to craft our personas and advertise our identities to the whole world in a measured a way as any PR firm. We have learned that we deserve to be accommodated and provided for, never having to wait for that favorite song or TV show, but get it on demand. We are both stripped naked and bare for all to see, and given the power to build ourselves up wrapped in virtual lies and be who we want you to think we are. We are open and honest. But maybe lying. We allow the world to make recommendations, but ultimately, we pick and choose for ourselves. Everyone has become a reviewer of everyone else's lives and tastes, but no one truly knows anything at all.

Spinning, spinning, spinning. The Era of Artifice. The Idecade. The "I'm OK and now you tell me what you think of me based on what I let you see" decade.

It was the rest of times, it was the first of times. The end of history and the beginning of the future.

I'll find a good one...

nuffin

So here I am about the descend into the depths of what I consider to be true blogging: sitting at the computer with absolutely nothing of value to say but with too much caffeine in my system and 3 more hours till dawn. So here I am, the newest child of the age. A real life blogger -- all technology and no content.

So...

What do you people talk about...

um...

I made a new joke tonight...something about that Jews don't use sporks because we consider them shatnez. um...

I don't much like the keyboard on this new computer. Does that count as being socially relevant? I...uh...my kids didn't pick the scissors up when they were done with them. I hate when that happens...kids today. Um. So...who here's from out of town?

Ok, well. This didn't work out the way I'd envisioned it. Somehow, all you bloggers have important things to say on a daily basis. Your lives are filled with exciting and timely experiences which beg to be made public so that the rest of us can feel wretched about ourselves while bask in the dim reflection of your whateverthehell it is that you have. Herpes, maybe.

My life includes such daily highs as "reading the email" and "telling the kids to hurry up" and even "driving to work."

I did read the seventh Harry Potter book this week (finally). It was good, I guess. I can't wait to see what happens next.

I'm gonna go camp out at the bookstore and wait for the next book. Maybe I can have some wacky misadventures, set up a webcam or do something else unique to become the next dancing baby or street magician whose web buzz and word of modem makes him a cultural icon for 15 seconds.

Wake me up when I'm famous.

I’m Losing My voice, mind and temper

Here's what doesn't make sense. So I'm losing my voice. I start to talk and it sounds, well to be honest, it sounds ridiculous. Then people ask "what happened to your voice?" How the hell do I know? It was there one day and now it's gone. I can't explain the science behind it. Just say "oh, you're losing your voice. That's so sexy." (or something similarly flattering) and I'll be fine with that.

 

Sheesh.

A pun in the arse

I just thought of this one last night and see no record of it online.

What do you call the salary of someone who captains a boat in France?

The wages of Seine.

2 puns, one Hebrew/English

If you don't get these, don't worry about it. If you do, start worrying.

1. My car crashed into some slithy toves. So I called a portmanteau truck.

2. I am starting a new business. People come in and participate in making personalized sukkah decorations. I am calling it "Let's make Some Noy's"

get it? נוי

anyway...

More sizes available

OK...so I got that one out of my system, but meanwhile, I came upon a few more:

1. Chartering a wide-body

2. Adding on a wing

3. Earning a greater market share

4. Exploiting the masses

5. Becoming one with the universe

Size doesn't matter

Over the years, I have gained a bit of weight. Life goes on and, despite my urge to stay as thin as I was back in college, I have added a bit here and there. Not for lack of dieting, but mostly for complete lack of will power and a taste for all things yummy. I have, therefore, been putting together a list of euphemisms for putting on that weight which will make me feel that what I have done is more socially acceptable. So here they are, in no particular order.

1. Scoring higher on the FAT's
2. Broadening my horizons
3. Becoming more of a man
4. Filling out my forms
5. Weighing in on the matter
6. Thinking locally, acting globally
7. Jelly Roll Morton
8. Driving the roundabout
9. Seeing other sizes
10. Pushing the envelope
tied with
10. Testing the outer limits