Just got my latest copy of Bloomberg Businessweek (can’t let those unused frequent-flyer miles go to waste). In it, I was thrilled to find an article about one of my favorite people on the Internet, Adam Lisagor alias @lonelysandwich.
As one who remembers his first startup video (for his Birdhouse app), I’m glad to see that Adam is doing well.
Also, I’m glad Businessweek decided to run with the photo of Adam getting to third base with a palmetto.
“Things are okay with me these days
I got a good job, I got a good office
I got a new wife, got a new life
And the family is fine
Oh we lost touch long ago
You lost weight - I did not know
you could ever look so nice after so much time.”—Billy Joel combines two things I detest: Facebook updates and Billy Joel.
Joe Echevarria, the chief executive of Deloitte, the accounting and consulting firm, said, ‘I’m a Republican by definition and by registration, but the party seems to have split into two factions.’
While both parties have extreme elements, he suggested, only in the G.O.P. did the extreme element exercise real power. ‘The extreme right has 90 seats in the House,’ Mr. Echevarria said. ‘Occupy Wall Street has no seats.’
“In case you don’t know, these parties aren’t like real parties. It’s fabricated fun, imposed from the outside. A vision of what squares imagine cool people might do set on a spaceship. Or in Moloko. As we come out of the lift there’s a bloody great long corridor flanked by gorgeous birds in black dresses, paid to be there, motionless, left hand on hip, teeth tacked to lips with scarlet glue. The intention, I suppose, is to contrive some Ian Fleming super-uterus of well fit mannequins to midwife you into the shindig, but me and my mate Matt just felt self-conscious, jigging through Robert Palmer’s oestrogen passage like aspirational Morris dancers.”—Russell Brand in The Guardian on what happened when he was kicked out of something called the GQ Awards for making a comment about sponsor Hugo Boss’s ties to the Nazis.
KEVIN WHELAN: There were 30 songs and he [Interscope A&R guy] finally dwindled it down to two that he liked. They were “the hits.” So he’s like, “Redo these two, make the distortion louder,” you know, all the same shit — “want drums louder, vocals louder,” — all that stuff. Then he’s like, “Come to my office, we’ll play it on my big system and we’ll see.” So Charles wrote “This Boy Is Exhausted” and it was essentially about,”Fuck you, you’re not going to sign us anyway, but you’re making us do all this shit in front of you.” I must tell you, it was a beautiful moment to be in a band, sitting in the big crystal office, listening to the music pump out, and watching this guy. And then at the end, he said, “Fuck you, I don’t like you guys either.”
Reasonable music fans might have hoped or even assumed that the myopic A&R man in question suffered the sort of karmic destiny befitting one who overlooks a masterpiece. Unfortunately, the facts are not so easily palatable.
“There is no shortage of wonderful writers. What we lack is a dependable mass of readers. I propose that every person out of work be required to submit a book report before he or she gets his or her welfare check.”—Kurt Vonnegut, The Paris Review.
It’s based on notes I threw together before hosting a “brown bag” lunch talk with our latest group of interns a couple of weeks ago. This was a group of young people considering doing the kind of work I do.
Channeling my inner Merlin Mann, I came up with six practices that have “worked” for me over the last 18 years. But they’re probably applicable to a lot of jobs that aren’t “Latin America non-profit think-tank advocacy-type person”:
Read constantly about the issue you want to work on.
Show up in person.
Learn a bit about fundraising.
"Ping" people meaningfully.
Collaborate with others.
I wish I’d spent more than 15 minutes preparing, because to my surprise, the interns had lots of questions and even asked me for copies of my pathetic little page of notes.
So I thought it would be nice to spend some vacation downtime typing those up into proper prose, and putting them out there. Hope you like it.
Even after 2 pints of beer, I remembered the difference between a chalupa and a gordita. I remembered to ask for soft taco shells. I remembered to ask for Pepsi instead of Coke. I remembered to ask for hot sauce. And I remembered to act compassionately toward those who must work at a Taco Bell somewhere in Pennsylvania at 10:00 on a Monday night.
Still, this doesn’t really make me a better person.