Alexander Solves Problems With Things You Don't Understand

11:30: arrive at Sam Wo.
11:39: listen to patron say that he only joined the Black Panthers was for the t-shirt.
11:40: the waitress is nicer then I expect, but there’s three tables, and I’m still waiting to order.
11:42: no tea, “wait for water to boil.”
11:49: place order.
11:59: get tea
12:00: make note that the place smells a bit like a frozen chicken pot-pie.
12:01: realize that tea was a false alarm, “water not boil yet.”
12:03: realize that each light in the celing has an indivual light switch. In the celing, next to the light.
12:04: waitress gives patron too much change, patron is kind enough to give her the change.
12:10: get chopsticks, am asked “hot tea?” Yes, sure.
12:18: waitress asks for my order again. I don’t think it went to the kitchen. Oops. A conversation ensues, after a shout down the dumbwaiter shaft, and someone comes upstairs. There’s pushing and shoving. (Seriously). I’m pointed at several times, then my chow fun order goes downstairs.
Did I mention that you don’t really come for the food?

As of late, I’ve been driving in San Francisco, which is actually not all that bad, especially compared to what it’s made out to be. It has it’s interesting moments, like looking back on Guerrero and seeing Pacific Gas and Electric’s backhoe in your entire rear view mirror. I thought you, dear reader might enjoy some of the choice words that I’ve uttered the last few days in helming the car around the Paris of the West.

“It’s a fucking turn lane, get with it.”

“You have the 100k Mercedes, now become familiar with the gas.”

“It’s San Francisco, why the fuck would you wait for the light to cross the street. Jaywalk, dammit!”

“Fuck! Muni!” (this is the most uttered phrase, and derivations thereto.”)

It’s been quite a while. Not that blogging has lost it’s allure for me, but I do so crave the physicality of printed media as of late.

I find myself drawn to writing for print than for online consumption, so I do need to evaluate exactly what kind of conversation I want to have with you, dear reader. By the way, when I say dear reader, I mean reader. Another problem with this kind of forum is just how low the readership is. It’s quite embarrasing to admit that my blog readers are in the single digits, and like any well-minded scribe, the readership is always important.

I do think that you’ll begin to see more inductive thought here, my ramblings on design, media, photography and such.

As has been said, we shall see.

People, in my own experience, complain constantly about the factory iPod headphones. Usually, the complaint is about sound quality. They’re not as good as they could be, but they work, and the sound isn’t too bad.

My complaint is that I seem to not be able to get them to last more than nine months. I’ve burned through three sets of them, and now I’m on the bulky, but very good sounding studio monitor quality Sony MDR-7506 headphones. With their aluminum housing, and above $100 price tag, they should be. I still want headphones that are reasonably portable, a point where the Sony’s don’t even come close.

I was at the chic cathedral of American consumerism, Target, and saw a cheap set, the Sony MDR-E10LP’s. They were 10 bucks, and I though, hey, why not. They can’t be that bad. After listening to them, I put them back in the package. The testing regime they were put through was unfair, but made them sound even worse. I put the closed ear phones over the cheap ten-dollar ones. I tried different songs. Nat King Cole, Bob Dylan, Amy Winehouse, Charles Mingus, Sleater-Kinney—every single one sounded so listless and without any pep, they needed Vita-Mita-Vegamin.

Result of test: I’ll be getting new Apple headphones this week. Or continue to lug around the studio monitors in my bag, which is a major pain the neck. Probably getting new iHeadPhones.

That, for good reason has been the common understanding in United States economics for the better part of a century. GM has always had a special place for me, it’s a company that for me, I have a special tie to. I held boxes of parts that either said AC Delco or GM (in those black and cyan boxes), or were destined to fit a GM made car for most of my life. My grandfather worked for Chevrolet and Oldsmobile in the heydays of the 1950’s and 1960’s—when GM’s global dominance was unchallenged.

I once had to explain the “what’s good for General Motors is good for America” quote in a paper, who when I submitted it to an architecture professor at Berkeley scribbled on the margin: “What does this mean? What does it imply?” I laughed and though about it, it’s not a given anymore—especially for someone in their 20’s.

Now this company is on the brink of bankruptcy, bleeding cash, and Ford isn’t far behind. Being drug down with legacy expenses that were underfunded or raided by prior versions of management, and unsupported by a gang lead by Roger Smith, couldn’t make a really good car if their lives depended on it. GM of the 1980’s was a bleak situation, the 90’s looked a bit better, and the new century was looking pretty bright until gas hit $3.00 a gallon. A GM bankruptcy is almost unfathomable, with a half a trillion dollars in assets—that’s right, a quarter trillion dollars. The company would be able to close plants, re-negotiate and finally dispense with pensions that are underfunded.

With a century of history, GM would probably shed some divisions, unfortunately. Pontiac or Buick might go, after Oldsmobile has already been sent off to automotive history. Buick, with it’s mostly forgettable lineup of cars should probably be sent off. Pontiac might have a future, only if they can actually get people to buy their products, mostly derived from an international development crew. Cadillac is finally coming into it’s own after a long while of staying afloat with the Escalade (which is another flawed business strategy, when you think about it. Have a historically innovative division stay alive by re-badging a Chevrolet).

This month will be very telling for GM, there will be some plant closures, layoffs and who knows what else. Let’s hope that it’s not ended with GM in Chapter 11.

The United States Post Office is releasing a stamp of Bette Davis, an act, which under most circumstances, is quite laudable. What makes it absurd is the removal of the cigarette from her hand.

I’m not a smoker, never have been, but to take the cigarette from her hand is simply inexcusable. Bette Davis smoked, and it was a part of her character. Is a cigarette on a stamp of someone who most people in the young, impressionable demographic don’t even know of really going to persuade people to smoke? It does prove that as a society, we can’t trust that people can make any choices for themselves.

It’s going to be quite the challenge, if smoking is so reprehensible to see on screen, or in any media, for later editions of Mad Men. I don’t want to be the rotoscoper on that retouch job.

Since television is crammed with political ads, I do feel obligated to comment a bit on one of the worst ads of the campaign season, the advertisement against Proposition 8. The advertisement being aired on television simply has no guts. It’s a soft, heartwarming advertisement that I’d say was mediocre to sell recreational vehicles. With two parents, talking about treating their children the same, it’s quite easy to forget.

Grant you, the advertisement on the yes side is grossly distorted, starring Gavin Newsome, the advertisement who the legislation will actually discriminate against, and have actual effect on, have an advertisement that is quite sedate. Turn it up a bit. The people that are in the swing on a constitutional amendment to limit rights to a group of citizens based on personal religious reasons are already quite easy to sway.

Advertising is based on impressions, and the ability for something to stick to someone, and persuade someone to do something. It’s the modern affectation of common rhetoric. While I can recall the advertisement for a group of ideologues, the side in the interest of inalienable rights endowed by the creator leaves me thinking I’ve seen more impassioned toothpaste commercials.

Upon occasion, you read a news story that almost seems quaintly out of date. One such came across the wire today: Pirated Arms Freighter Cornered by U.S. Navy. Lord of War meets Pirates of the Caribbean I suppose. In sum: a Ukranian arms ship with little trappings of the masters of war—tanks, grenade launchers, all the fun stuff that really makes you light up the Fourth of July. Or, try to overthrow the U.S. Government.

Lucky for us, the Unites States Navy is circling the ships to stop this oversize mess from getting worse. The most amazing part is almost that nobody has even heard of it. Major portions of a trillion dollars getting doled out, that’s news, but not the oversized bathtub filled with incendary devices.

A few minutes ago, Paco and I had an interesting exchange:

P: I was in a good mood today. I kinda got mad today because one of the froshes that’s in my group for engineering class was not able to get his software to run correctly—couldn’t get software installed on his laptop.
A: What a gavode.
P: What the hell? Who are you calling a gavode?
A: Sorry, the phrase I’m looking for is that “your frosh is a mook.”
P: I see you did some serious consultation. . .

Lesson to take away from this, kids: I will go to great lengths to ensure that I’m using the proper insult.

Mom: What do you know about Maimonides?
A: Heard the name, don’t really know much about him. What period?
Mom: Oh, I recall it from Catholic school. 1135-1204 A.D.
A: Remember, my fields of expertise center around Greco-Roman third century B.C. classical philosophy, and European intellectuals, mostly in philosophy of mind, language and aesthetics. Post sixteenth century.
Grandma: Laughs.
A: Comeon, nothing all that major happpened. Ask my friend Petrarch. He’s got my back.

Lessons to take away from this, kids: if you’re going to run with the big kids, know what you don’t know. If not, you’re only full of crap.