Greetings from Cubevania

My meteoric rise in direct marketing is officially over. What remains is a sizable hole in the ground and a rapidly cooling rock.

No, I haven't been fired. And I haven't quit either. I've been ousted from my office and forced to work amongst the common folk.

I'm typing this eulogy from my new cube, which is actually more of a cubicle, but is so small that a passing GCD labeled it a "cubiclet." It's little more than a bit of L-shaped desk space situated in the hallway of a darkened corner of floor 14. If I drilled a hole in the floor beneath my feet, I'd have a top-down view of the cubicle where I sat as a freelancer three years ago today.

If only I could drop a message down to that young go-getter, something to the effect of: "Get out now."

I wasn't a freelancer for long. I accepted a full-time position three months after I began, and was relocated in a slightly cozier hallway on 15. Then I joined a new group and was promoted to a small office, which became a larger office and then a larger office still.

Then we got a new creative head who got into his creative head a creative new seating structure that would revitalize creative: put everyone in cubes. A few understandalbe grumbles aside, I had no problem with the idea. But me and my art director were placed in the abolute worst two cubes ever created. The guys who made these cubes had to be laughing when they made them. It's like when a slum lord bisects a closet with a hunk of drywall and advertises a cozy two bedroom apartment.

I feel like a private who worked his way up to captain, only to have his medals and stripes ripped off so they don't get in the way of his new potato-peeling assignment.

Worst of all is that I'm aware of how petty this sort of grumbling is. This is what corporate life does to you, friends: One day you're a semi-idealistic college graduate full of ideas and bullshit, and the next you're a graying copy-monkey, beating your little chest over the injustice of having no door.

I finally get Les Nessman. I hear you, brother.

Mincing toward Gomorrah

Fellow liberals,

Nice job. We managed to convince Americans that we have the moral high ground. Can you believe it? Us! The ones who pee on crucifixes and call it art! We're suddenly the good guys. How awesome is that?

Excuse me while I do some blow.

Now that we're in power, allow me to say a few words to all the disillusioned conservatives and trusting Christians who took a chance on us last Tuesday.

Bwahahahahahahahahaha!!

Fools! Do you know what you've done? There's gonna be gay nude wrestling on every channel -- even the Disney Channel! We're instituting a law that illegalizes different-sex marriages, except in the case of human-animal nuptuals.

Marijuana will now be sold next to Blow-Pops in the candy isle of every 7-11.

Needle-weilding doctors will be given full access to hospital nurseries so that they may selectively harvest stem cells.

Effective now, we're cutting off all funding to Iraq and will funnel the money toward a program that teaches Evolution in churches.

That's just a sampling of what you can expect. Let the hedonism begin!

Who voted?

I did, this morning. Did you?

Work blog

A month or so ago everyone in the creative department was asked to post a Web page on the internal server here at work. I was going to just throw up a link to my blog, but I decided to post this instead. It's what happens when a copywriter learns just enough photoshop.

Accident Prone

Random IM thread from 9/16/04

I'm going through all of my old emails and files here at work. Never mind why.

Anyway, I uncovered this rambling gem of an IM conversation between me and Jon Clarke. The idea is that Sony's 2004 purchase of some new properties gave them control over almost half of all Hollywood movies ever made. So how might Sony leverage this to market their products?

Here's the thread (There's a funny skit in here somewhere):

jonflclarke (2:15:50 PM): Including the titles owned by MGM, the Sony group will now control about 40 percent of all movies ever produced by Hollywood, according to some estimates.

Qner (3:47:28 PM): "Nice work, Spiderman. Good thing you had the new Sony Cyber-shot Pro digital camera to document Dr. Octopus' nefarious experiments. Starting at just $399, the 8 megapixel camera is as inexpensive as it is invaluable for capturing life's most infamous moments."

jonflclarke (4:00:42 PM): Can't believe it took them two movies to come up with that one

Qner (4:02:45 PM): Wait a minute. I don't remember Kurtz listening to a Sony Discman in his hut before.

jonflclarke (4:03:09 PM): LOL

Qner (4:11:00 PM): "Mrs. Robinson, my love for your daughter is clear. Almost as clear as the picture on Sony’s new 42" plasma WEGA flat panel TV with enhanced definition screen."

jonflclarke (4:11:29 PM): You're doing way too much research on this

Qner (4:11:37 PM): hahaha

Qner (4:12:05 PM): More than I put into my last project, I can tell you.

jonflclarke (4:33:36 PM): "You could have been Senator Corleone, Governor Corleone and you can be too with the new SONY Plastation 3. 64 bits of family goodness from the old country."

Qner (4:34:46 PM): hahaha

Qner (4:34:57 PM): BTW, I'm on the waiting list for Patton Oswalt tix. They must have went right after you got them.

jonflclarke (4:35:42 PM): Show up anyway. I bet there'll be cancellations

jonflclarke (4:38:05 PM): "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn. But I will give you a text message with SONY's new PCS service. AS God as my witness, I'll never go text free again."

Qner (4:41:25 PM): "I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore! But if I want to take music with me, I'll download it to Sony's 64mb memory stick. Portable, powerful - and priced for everyone - the new memory stick is enough to soften the most hardened newsman."

jonflclarke (4:41:47 PM): LOL

jonflclarke (4:43:16 PM): Badges? We don't need no stinkin' badges. But we do need SONY's new GPS3000. It helps us find our way as we rove the Mexican countryside, sacking, pillaging and murdering Humphrey Bogart. Ariba!!!

Qner (4:43:35 PM): hahahaha

Qner (4:47:54 PM): "Use the force, Luke. The force of a 10x zoom lens and 800mb of storage space that comes with Sony's new digital Camcorder. With data transfer faster than the Millenium Falcon, it's ready to fly out of the box."

jonflclarke (4:48:26 PM): It's the camera that made the Kessel run in less than 12 parsecs.

jonflclarke (4:49:54 PM): Throw me the idol I'll throw you the new SONY VAIO laptop. iIt's our lightest yet and with extra battery life you can keep cracking the whip form morning till night. No time to argue.

Qner (4:50:21 PM): hahaha

jonflclarke (4:50:37 PM): This can go on forever

Qner (4:52:15 PM): "What we have here is a failure to communicate. That's why we're switching to Sony ClearVoice wireless phones."

jonflclarke (4:54:08 PM): Scully, thruth is out there.

Qner (4:54:24 PM): ...and with the new handsfree headsets, your hands will stay cool"

jonflclarke (4:55:06 PM): No Mulder, with the new CLIE handheld, it's all in here. The latest games, personal photo gallery and video clips ion vivid color. That's the truth

jonflclarke (4:55:52 PM): This is all bordering on self parody isn't it?

Qner (4:55:56 PM): The truth? You can't handle the truth! But you can certainly handle the new VOA portable tablet.

Qner (4:56:16 PM): Literally could go on forever.

Qner (4:56:24 PM): But it's addictive

It's been a while...

I haven't posted anything in a while. Now I have.

Why the absence? Lot's of reasons, none of them good. Busy at work, that sort of thing. So here's what's new:

I got a new iPod, which is also my first iPod. It's the big one -- 80GB Video. I love it. I love the packaging. I love the little case it came in. On Friday I bought some cables so I can hook it up to stereos and even TVs to output music and video. How cool is that??

I'm still getting to the gym, but also still smoking.

Work has been nuts. No, really. It's been nuts.

My brother's coming into town this weekend to run the marathon. My sister-in-law and niece are also coming in. So we'll proabably do a NYC thing on Saturday. BTW: Lion King = Expensive.

Vote, vote vote! Even if you don't think it makes a difference in your particular district. Vote anyway.

Go to iTunes and download The Feebs. You won't regret this advice, I promise.

Haven't seen many movies lately. Except Little Miss Sunshine, which is very good. Need to see The Departed, Science of Sleep, The Prestige, Last King of Scotland and, of course -- Borat! So looking forward to that one.

Had a discussion with a fan of the American "Office." He likes it better than the British version, mainly because it takes a bit to understand the English accent. I say it's worth the effort. In fact I downloaded some original Office MP4s for my new video iPod. Did I tell you about that? I love it.

I'm sure I'll think of some more stuff to say at some point.

Funk Dat!

Bless YouTube. It's fast becoming the resevoir for things often (and sometimes best) forgotten. Like this little ditty from 1993.

Remember this guy? How he seemed so annoyed by even the most ordinary occurences, like getting a phone call? His whole rap is just a list of cranky complaints. So funny.

Myrtle Beach

Ahhh.

That's how I still feel after spending last week at a condo in Myrtle Beach.

Again, that's: Ahhh.

I left last Friday amidst a shitstorm at work. Major reconcepting of a major campaign. Due in days. And now I was hightailing it outta there for a week, which put them down a writer.

Nick, my art director, summed it up. "Fuck, dude."

I did that little dance where you click your heels together in mid-air.

Actually, I don't shake work off that easy. I was still somewhat concerned about the reconcepting as my taxi nudged toward JFK.

But by the time Lauri and I got to the airport, my concern level had been downgraded from "somewhat" to "vaguely." A blue on the alert scale: Guarded, but don't let the terrorists stop you from traveling or they'll win.

Speaking of terrorists, those bastards got something right for once. After making us wait in endless lines, remove our laptops, take off our shoes, toss our lighters and spread like drug smugglers while some bored TSA official wands us, they actually did us a solid with the whole liquid/gel thing.

Let me explain.

By limiting the amount of luggage we are allowed to bring on the plane, boarding and de-planing is now a lovely experience. Fast. Efficient. No Oakley-wearing douchbags elbowing you in the head as they panic to remove their oversized overhead luggage. No pricks blocking the drink cart, so they can retrieve a Golfer's Digest from their stowed overnight bag. No confused "bag ladies" staring vacuously up and down the isle to be sure they have their purse, handbag, rolling luggage, copy of Vogue, laptop and frilled shawl.

I'm not saying these characters aren't on the plane. They are, but their shit is stowed safely beneath them, so they have nothing to fiddle with. I picture them chewing on the emergency instructions cards, crunching the ice from their complimentary sodas. (Must get to luggage!)

The flight itself was quick. You know: Fasten seatbelts, turn off cell phones. Taxi, takeoff. Soda? Chips? Upright positions, welcome to Raleigh. You'll find your luggage somewhere inside.

My parents met us outside, where I was sucking down a cigarette. By now my work concern level was down to green. All clear: Osama's dead and Iran loves us.

We drove down to Myrtle the next day. My brother and sister, brother and sister-in-law and three neieces and nephews. It was the first time I'd been in 10 years. I actually lived there during the summer of '94. A lot has changed.

I lived in Calabash, NC and worked in North Myrtle Beach, SC. The ride took about 20 minutes on a good day and you passed a lot of nothing on your way. Some BBQ restaurants, scattered strips of shops, a Jesus sign or two. Things didn't get commercial until you were right at Barefoot landing. And they didn't get truly tacky until you were into Myrtle Beach proper.

No more. Like a spreading fungus, the tacky has worked its way up Highway 17, obliterating old landmarks, swallowing genuine trashy southern culture whole in the plastic jaws of molded shark entryways that front the ubiquitous Waves stores. You can't throw a golf ball without hitting a mini golf center. Courses that look like volcanoes, or pirate ships, or that have an aviation theme, or a jungle theme. Then there's the go-carts. A NASCAR go-cart amusement park with six separate tracks. Or, if NASCAR isn't your bag, you can go to the Formula One go-cart amusement park. There's even a place that has both go-carts and mini-golf. It's called "Fun World," a name that conjures two guys sitting at a table kicking around names until one finally says: "Fuck it, we'll just call the goddamned thing 'Fun World.'"

Headline of the day

Found this on CNN. Seriously, is The Onion even necessary?

Megadeth angry at United Nations

Mustaine on organization: 'It's an abomination what they're doing'

NEW YORK (Billboard) -- Heavy metal maven Dave Mustaine is so angry with the United Nations that he is naming his group Megadeth's next album "United Abominations."

"I was watching TV and saw the trucks that said 'UN' on them and said, 'Man, you are so uncool, ineffective, anything," the singer/guitarist said in a recent Billboard interview.

"I thought, 'Wow, I've got to run with this. I got it -- United Abominations, 'cause it's an abomination what they're doing!'

OK, this is just brilliant

"Sunday Bloody Sunday" as "sung" by George W. Bush. Amazing!

I love this line

"60% of the time it works every time."
It bears a striking resemblance to the claims I'm dealing with right now.

Frank and the Steins

Here's the concept: Four Frankensteins form a rock group and have a concet at a local bar. What happens from there is every bit as stupid and funny as the concept.

Great directing by Dave and catchy music by Jon, who penned this ditty with Hector.

Things to look for:
My zombie-like interpretation of how Frankenstein might play bass
Andrew's patented reverse windmill
Searing closeup guitar riffs courtesy of Jon
Hector's Latin jazz-style drum work

What more can I say? Brilliant stuff.

What am I listening to right THIS second on iTunes?

And this is the room
One afternoon I knew I could love you.
And from above you how I sank into your soul,
Into that secret place where no one dares to go.

And your mom would drink until she was no longer speaking.
And dad would dream of all the different ways to die;
Each one a little more than he could dare to try.

Hi Uncle Bart!

Me and Clarissa are staying in a really cool hotel. Bermuda has everything! We scuba dived a reef yesterday and the marine life was beautiful. Clarissa saw a barracuda and almost spit out her mouthpiece. I laughed! I hope you get this email. I know how you hate to use the computer we bought you last year. Anyway, hope you're well. Please send money.

-Baxter

-----------------------

RE: Hi Uncle Bart!

I have received your correspondence on one of the contraptions here at the Sun Sentinel and I am dictating this response through the capable hands of my secretary, Miss Dillers.

What in the hell are you talking about, Baxter? Your late father would be angrier than a mullered scuttlepossum if he knew that you left the university to follow a path of decadence and stupidity with some strumpet you met in a tavern. And for the record, your brother, the honorable Judge Jackson, purchased that computer for me. All you did was plug it in and proceed to play games on it for the next four hours! I haven't turned the damned thing on since. What the hell do I need a computer for? I already have a typewriter and a television set (which your brother also purchased for me).

Let me be clear, Baxter. Drop that hussy off at the nearest cabana and get your skinny butt back to the university post haste! I've talked to Dean Chambers and he has agreed to reinstall you in the dormitory so you can continue your studies. I guess that answers your last question, which is the only reason you dried off long enough to write me: No! I will not send you any money!

-Bartholomew Jackson

Some MILF ruined my computer

Two months ago I clicked on a link (the word MILF was involved), and my computer froze up like a crazy block of ice. (Instant simile improver: add "crazy" before any banal comparison. It lights up wordplay like a crazy sun.)

(No more parenthetical sidebars, I promise.)

Faced with an unresponsive computer, I tried to reboot. No go. So I unplugged it and tried to restart. The computer booted to that screen that says "Your computer shut down unexpectedly," and lists options to boot in safe mode. I tried that and the same screen came up. I tried various other boot strategies, all to no avail. I unplugged my computer again, walked away and watched some TV. I went back, plugged it back in and tried again. Same result.

I opened my computer and checked the connections. I blew some dust from the motherboard. I disconnected the hard drive and reconnected it. I sat and stared, crosslegged on the floor. I put my pants back on. Then I reassembled the computer and started it up. Nothing.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I didn't try everything. I did. You're thinking, but what about that one thing? Yes, that one thing, too. I tried everything, and nothing worked.

So I left it alone for two months.

I did buy a rescue disk, but all it did was show me the files I couldn't access and tell me that my registry hive was corrupted. I used my work computer to find a fix for corrupted registry hives on the MS website, but learned that I couldn't use it on my computer because my OS was factory-installed.

Things were getting desperate. With no computer, I found myself going to bed earlier and rising with the sun. I was exercising and eating right. With no Internet access, my sexual fantasies were becoming normal and healthy. A single box of Kleenex would last weeks.

Well, turns out Jon Clarke had the exact same thing happen with his Sony computer, and he told me about a disk you could purchase from Sony to resolve the problem. I don't know if he was also hunting for MILFs when his problem occurred. If so, it would confirm my suspicion that hot, sexually promiscuous housewives have plotted to destroy computers.

I went to the Sony website, but it was one of the worst user interfaces I've ever tried to navigate. So I called the number and some lady with a MILF voice took my order. I gave her my credit card number and a few days later I got the disk.

So now I have a new computer. Kind of. That's because I had to reformat my hard drive and start from scratch -- with all the factory-installed settings and crapware that originally came with my Sony, but minus the files and programs I managed to acquire over the past year. So it's like new. In a way.

But at least it booted. All it needed was a test. I performed a quick search for MILFs and clicked on a link. It worked.

The way I see it...

"The way I see it..." is a bi-monthly column written by Bartholomew Jackson, the Sun Sentinel's oldest correspondent and the last living member of the paper's original editorial staff. Mr. Jackson's opinions do not necessarily represent those of the Sun Sentinel.

The way I see it...
Coffee ought not be served unless it is prepared with the proper attention. An acquaintance of mine who passed on several years ago once told me of a new "coffee," and I use the preceding quotations as a mark of proscriptive emphasis, that is meant to be stirred into a mug of hot water in the fashion of a peptic powder! Now I must ask you: what sort of self-respecting professional would allow his wife to fix him a cup of mess like that?
-Bartholomew Jackson

----------------------------

"The way I see it..." is a bi-monthly column written by Bartholomew Jackson, the Sun Sentinel's oldest correspondent and the last living member of the paper's original editorial staff. Mr. Jackson's opinions do not necessarily represent those of the Sun Sentinel.

The way I see it...
The United States ought to re-think it's inclusion of Hawaii as state. Along with Alaska, another dunderheaded acquisition, Hawaii makes a hash of wall maps. Here you got this beautiful chunk of USA that looks almost like a cattle or some other large animal, and there's this little box out of nowhere holding up an ugly clump of islands. It looks like that cattle took a turd and out come Hawaii!
-Bartholomew Jackson

----------------------------

"The way I see it..." is a bi-monthly column written by Bartholomew Jackson, the Sun Sentinel's oldest correspondent and the last living member of the paper's original editorial staff. Mr. Jackson's opinions do not necessarily represent those of the Sun Sentinel.

The way I see it...
If man was meant to mess around under the sea, God would've given him gills. My nephew Baxter, whose softheaded adventures I've written about previously, has taken up a new activity with his latest lady friend. They call it "diving" and it involves an apparatus that looks like something out of a Byron Haskin picture. Apparently, they board a perfectly seaworthy vessel, then abandon it to kick around like a couple of damn fool bullfrogs. I tell you, it's going to be the end of society as we know it. And it's all Baxter's fault!
-Bartholomew Jackson

Make sure you vote whenever voting time comes

We all know why Bush introduced an amendment to ban gay marriages. It's not because the spector of state-sanctioned man-on-man commitment threatens our way of life. There are plenty of real threats out there to legitimately worry about: giant terrorist bombs, gianter gas prices, dumb students, a bi-polar economy, Iraq, etc. The real reason for the new amendment is that Bush wanted to introduce a wedge issue that will motivate conservatives to vote in the midterm elections. Whacko, Old Testament conservatives, that is.

The Republican party is in trouble and they have no one to blame but themselves. They pushed Bush into office and backed him on every ridiculous decision with party-line bullshit. Now that his poll numbers suck, Republicans are streaming away from him in droves.

So Bush, in an attempt to mollify his party, retain control of congress and perhaps deliver a few volts to his critically ailing popularity, is serving up an issue that every daytime TV-watching ignoramus can sink his teeth into--gay marriage.

But here's the deal. We can laugh or grumble at his audacity -- his constant pandering to the lowest common demoninator and the cynical opinion the administration must have of us -- but it's going to work. Slack-jawed dopes will emerge over the same hilly path they cleared in 2004 to again vote for a non-issue. Which is why we have to vote. Really. We must get out and ensure this douche-bag trick doesn't bite us in the ass.

So vote. Whenever the elections are. And stuff.

Vote!

Where have all the flowers gone?

I don't know, but I can tell you that I've been busy, busy, busy. With this and that. Work. Home. Social. Financial. Lotsa activity in the world of Q'ner.

My biggest frustration: Waiting for my money to wire from my old bank account to my new one. I have cash, my cash, floating around in the ether, waiting to show up in my new account. My money, dammit!

Money is important. It allows you to purchase goods and services and is a key component to paying bills. I can't wait until mine is transferred. Today, I hope!

I'm ported

Now my home number is my mobile number. So now you can reach me anywhere, anytime. Yeah!

What I thought about on the subway this morning

Reasons J. Mascis can't decide whether he has egomania or low self esteem. (Relevant in 1994)

1) He plays huge, crashing guitar solos, but sings like he's afraid someone will hear him.

2) He named his band Dinosaur (Wow!) Jr. (Oh.)

3) It's not "Jay," but simply "J." Is that affected, humble or simply his name?

4) I swear I had another one.


Spare the whip and spoil the child.
My parents never whipped me. Perhaps if they had, I wouldn't be so damned spoiled. Sure, I was spanked occasionally. I was shaken, yelled at, jerked out of my chair and even punched in the face. But never whipped. Some parents whip. Some parents whip so much that call it whoop, because it's easier to say. Those are the one's that make their kids go and fetch a switch from the yard so they can whoop 'em with it. Imagine that task: Finding the weapon that will used on you. And you know those kids couldn't just bring back any old twig. It had to be young and green and springy and strong. I don't want somethin' that's gonna break on you halfway through the whooping. Get on out there at get me a damn switch that'll last! Somethin' from the maple family or a pricker bush. If it slices through this melon, it's good enough. If it don't, well then that's 20 more whoopin's.

Bet those kids weren't spoiled like me, though. Oh, and I was never punched in the face. OK, once, but I deserved it.