tomfoolery. strange ideas. eclectic prattle.

So, apparently today is the day I stop reading the New York Times.¹

I don’t think I will be alone. I expect a substantial number of people will forego reading the Times on-line in the near future, and instead just turn to other news sources. I don’t begrudge the Times trying to wring every penny out of their readers and advertisers–running a top-tier newspaper is expensive and difficult.  I just think the paywall is destined to fail.

Primarily, I think the Times is overly reliant on the idea that they add such value in their reportage (or have sufficient “brand loyalty” from readers) that people will be willing to pay for access, when other options of equal or better quality are available at no cost to the reader. After all, most Americans get their news from TV, and every additional barrier or cost to access the Times will press readers and viewers towards free sources.²

These free sources–CNN, the BBC, TV news, the Washington Post, Slate, Salon–aren’t “free,” of course. Their costs are borne by advertising–as are the costs of the Times‘s operations.  The Times decision to charge for what their direct competition is providing at no cost just seems like an unsustainable choice.

1. I thought I would keep reading it through the end of the year, through a courtesy subscription from Lincoln, but a glitch in the Chrome browser meant I never saw the button to respond and I missed the window for response. The email rendered correctly in Firefox, I would note, but since I tend to use Chrome I didn’t discover the issue until too late. I abandoned Chrome immediately after discovering this epic fail. Eat death, Chrome!!
2. Yes, I know there are easy ways to circumvent the paywall. I won’t be doing that either. The Times has the right to set its price. I’m just not going to pay it. I’ll be reading The Economist, Washington Post, L.A. Times, and the BBC online instead. In other words, what I read before, minus the NYT.

Anyone who goes to see a documentary by Banksy expecting to see a straight-forward, factual film clearly hasn’t thought the matter through. While the film ostensibly is about the life and career of Mr. Brainwash, the nom de graffiti of Thierry Guetta, the likely draw for the audience is not just to see a film by an infamous artist, but the chance to peek behind the curtain at the workings of the enigmatic artist Banksy.  (Is Banksy a person? A group of people? Routinely described as–and portrayed in the film as–a he, could Banksy be a she? Who knows?)  Even as he appears in his own film, Banksy plays the role of The Anonymous One, art trickster, everywhere and nowhere.

Though many are taking the film as essentially true, others doubt the film’s veracity, suspicious that it is yet another Banksy construction, a prank, a sophisticated artistic joke. The film itself is a delight–engaging and entertaining, with footage of Banksy, Shepard Fairey, Space Invaders and other street artists at work.  Banksy’s wry commentary, Guetta’s manic adventures, and Shepard Fairey’s occasional appearance as Greek chorus help to both construct a narrative and ask some questions about street art–its values, its corruption, and its relationship to traditional arts establishments and markets.

In the end, whether the film is rich in facts or fables, it is clearly an extension of Banksy’s work and classic themes–holding up a mirror to the pretentiousness, capriciousness,  and herd mentality of the art world, while questioning the concepts of celebrity, art as business, and art as brand. Brilliant.

“Exit Through the Gift Shop” is currently playing in limited release. Spend a couple of sawbucks, take a date, bring your own paint markers, tag your way home.

So, as those who follow me on Facebook already know, the big snowstorm that just flattened Virginia put me in a fix. I had come back to my hometown to help my mother recover from stomach surgery early last week, with her returning home on Wednesday ahead of the predicted snowpocalypse.

On Friday, the snow storm hits, and as the snow starts to pile up, we figure we are in the house for the duration. Car completely snowed in on driveway.

Friday night, the power goes out around 5 pm. The power company says it should be up in a few hours. The house is fairly warm, so we go to bed. Wake up in the morning, still no power, and now the house is about 45 degrees.

No worries! We have a fireplace, and Mom recently got some wood.  Start building a fire around 5 am, ex-Boy Scout that I am (I would say “former Boy Scout,” but their anti-gay policies forced me to renounce my membership in that homophobic tribe).

No go! Wood is waterlogged. Try to dry it out and get a fire going for the next 6 hours, but all I do is smolder some logs into charcoal.  Without power, I grab my Kindle to update my friends on Facebook about this comedy of errors. Power company says electricity to be restored by noon.

Go find some sterno, heat some food up for Mom, who is on a restricted diet while recovering. She seems to be doing ok, though cold and tired. Power company now says power will be restored by 5 pm. We decide to wait it out.

Find Coleman lantern, which will produce some heat (also, carbon monoxide. Kids, don’t try this at home!), run it until empty. Still below 50 degrees. 5 pm comes and goes. Power will now be restored at 10pm.

The night is starting to loom, and the house is bitterly cold. Heading towards 40 degrees. We huddle up for a long night. Cold, uncomfortable, and increasingly tired, we both sort of nod in and out all night.

Wake up at 4 am, house below 40 degrees, drinking water just making me colder. Mom looking exhausted. I decide that at daybreak, I will start digging out.  Mom’s limited mobility post-surgery was a factor in trying to wait out the storm, now it will be a major factor in getting her to the car.

Determine that the ever-lower temperature is not a good environment for asthmatic me to work in. Decide to go in house and call for help.

Phone service is down. Landline totally dead.

No worries! We have cell phones!

No go! Cell service down. ATT Wireless FAIL.

This was seriously starting to look grim. So cold (and, as it turned out, dehydrated), I find my problem-solving abilities are shot, breathing is starting to be increasingly difficult, and I’m running out of steam.

Think, think, think.

Say, doesn’t my Kindle run on a different data network? Say, Sprint?

It does! Turn on Kindle, post plea for help to Facebook. Hope that one of my hometown friends will be reading. Ask for a plow to help get us out to shelter.

The Z.’s, who are friends living up in D.C., see the post, and decide to call Albemarle County Emergency Services, who promptly dispatches someone to get us and take us to a hotel. (Matt and Tina Z. vault to the top of my “sure, you can have my kidney” list, and the fine people at Seminole Trail Fire Department are now forever in my heart. and I mean you, fireman Eric.)

40-odd hours after the power goes off, we are finally warm.

While a variety of decisions–some poor, some clueless, some too trusting–led us to get stuck as we were, the fast action of my friends is what made the difference. (Though I have been very dehydrated before–hello, 2000 Marine Corps Marathon!–I forgot how it impairs your thinking, and how unaware you are that you are impaired.)

On the technology side, Kindle and Facebook saved the day. Two thumbs up for the experimental web browser.

While my mom and I were not in mortal danger (I don’t think), we were in for a pretty rough go, and had we stayed put, the situation would have continued to deteriorate. Not a good environment for someone immediately post-surgery, or for anyone, really.

If there are some take-away lessons here (and everyone knows I love a teachable moment), surely the first is to be sure your emergency preparations are adequate. Had the woodpile been kept dry, heating a couple of rooms would have been quite doable. Second, don’t be slow to reach out for help. Earlier action could have spared us some suffering, and foolishly relying on power company restoration estimates meant we waited longer to act than was prudent. And finally, make sure you have back-up forms of communication, if possible.

As for me, now my emergency kit contains a Kindle.

*****

A post-script: Power continues to be out at my mom’s house, with power to be restored in a couple more days–during which time we will have another substantial snowfall. Even if the power company’s newest estimate is right, the power will have been out for over 100 hours in freezing temperatures, with some of those homes without phone service.

If that doesn’t make you want to double-check your emergency plans, then you are probably either my friend Wendi, who is ready for the Apocalypse, or my nephew Ian, who is ready for when the black helicopters come for him. You two are exempt from double-checking.

If your response to the Cold War was to put your face on a nuclear bomb, if you have seen Jesus at McDonald’s, if you know Elvis is everywhere,  or if you know there ain’t no thirty-dollar bill with Bill Graham’s picture on it, then you know the joy that is Mojo and Skid.

Amazingly, for the next few weeks, Mojo Nixon has made all of his music available on Amazon for free to celebrate his “un-retirement”! That is 147 MP3s of pure-d sonic disturbance.

So what the hell are you waiting for? Go grab it before Skid and Mojo come to their senses.

Hey, Hollywood glitterati! If there was ever a time to STFU, this is it.

From a gleaning of the news stories on the various petitions, a list of signatories demanding the immediate release of admitted child rapist and fugitive from justice Roman Polanski:

Isabelle Adjani
Woody Allen
Pedro Almodovar
Asia Argento
Wes Anderson
Darren Aronofsky
Fanny Ardant
Paul Auster
Monica Bellucci
Alfonso Cuaron
Jonathan Demme
Arielle Dombasle
Ariel Dorfman
Stephen Frears
Diane von Furstenberg
Terry Gilliam
Buck Henry
Just Jaeckin
Neil Jordan
Harmony Korine
Milan Kundera
John Landis
Claude Lanzmann
Bernard-Henri Lévy
David Lynch
Michael Mann
Jeanne Moreau
Mike Nichols
Alexander Payne
Avital Ronell
Salman Rushdie
Walter Salles
Julian Schnabel
Barbet Schroeder
Martin Scorsese
Tilda Swinton
Wim Wenders

Assuming the reportage on this subject has been accurate, I find on this list many artists whose work I admire, some whose work I adore, and a lot whose work I respect, but now in a single move they have proven that none of them are people whose moral or ethical reasoning could be said to be sound, compelling, or even merely defensible. Really, you want to spend your credibility to defend someone who drugged and raped a child? Martin Scorsese, you broke my heart.

Kate Harding gets the analysis right on Salon.com.  See also, Variety, HuffPo, SACD petition.