What follows is an actual conversation between myself and a long-time friend, Justin Koeppen. No spelling has been corrected.
PBR: Ever listen to “The Do”?
JK: Never haves.
PBR: I was hoping they’d sound remarkably different. But they don’t, really. Female lead is kind of like Hope Sandoval, but not enough.
JK: How much more Sandovalic does she need to be?
PBR: About a 1/3rd. What unit of measure are we using?
JK: A sliding scale of preciousness that ranges from Pink to Mum.
PBR: Nice.
JK: It can also be repesented as a “Newsom”, as in “her voice is so twee she registers at 9.5 Newsoms.”
PBR: I didn’t think 9.5 Newsoms was realistically possible. I mean, it’s been mathematically proven under ideal circumstances. But get out of the lab once in a while, man
JK: Ok. So 9.8 Newsoms is theoretically possible in a pure vaccuum at or near absolute zero, and 10.0 Newsoms reaches the threshold of current science. It’s beleived that an artist with a 10.0 rating would occupy all genres simultaneously.
PBR: The God Artist, also known as the Les-Bosson particle.
JK: That’s if you subscribe to the current model of Harp String Theory.
PBR: Which, you know, I do. I could never get behind the Zepplin Field Theory
JK: Well, yesh, the physics break down as the artist approaches the event horizon, also known as the Coldplay Line, beyond which no talent can escape regardless of the force of opposing hipster cred.
PBR: I can’t abide by any school of thought that believes that Coldplay is actually inevitable. It screams of creationism, as if the boring and uninspired of the world are preaching some fanatical version of musical religious doctrine.
JK: It’s true, the musical cosmos operates much more akin to the Rolling Stones model; it began ages ago with a bang, then over billions of years colled and evened out to form a void filled with mostly empty space, continuing it’s course until it’s eventual heat death.
PBR: I’ll stick with Jenny Lewis Wave forms, which give you a really interesting quotient when you feed Kate Nash into the equation
JK: You know that’s dangerous. They tried a similar experiment in the 90s by trying to introduce a Belly variant into a stable Susan Vega waveform. that’s how we got Lisa Loeb.
PBR: But that overlooks the Costello-Dylan hypothesis, that the universe is expanding and contracting in repetition for infinity, with each action spinning off an infinite number of variants. In some parallel universes, Dylan was actually good in the 80s.
JK: Unless you believe in the Guided by Multiverse theory, wherein each song Robert Pollard pens creates it’s own parallel universe where the lyrics actually make sensen.
PBR: Bah, that theory hasn’t been used since people started to really trumpet the qualities of The Magnetic Fields Theory – in which happy songs are really sad songs, but sad songs are really sad songs too.
JK: Ah yes, the old Grandaddy era school of thought.
The New York Times recently put the rumor that they were going to erect another pay wall around their website to rest…by admitting that they are going to erect another pay wall around their site. And there’s a lot of heated discussion going on about this right now. Are they right? Are they wrong? Running the New York Times obviously costs a lot of money, and they do it well, which is why the Old Gray Lady is one of the most respected names in the media business.
But it’s a move doomed to failure. Here’s why. Information. Lots of it. Gobs of it. Today’s media landscape isn’t measured in column inches, but rather in conversations. The content of the New York Times might be the start of many of those conversations, but they rarely (if ever) manage to keep them going at the New York Times. Instead, the stories and links get passed around, take place elsewhere, spread around the net in viral tides.
And that bothers the New York Times. Not like this is a new development. Newspapers, like books, have always been shared between readers. “Hey are you done with the sport section? Yeah, trade you for the business section.” The problem is that kind of sharing is limited by scarcity. Not so online. Neither is the competition. People who do things better steal eyeballs who otherwise would have read a section of a newspaper.
Need a new futon? Craigslist that shit.
Ditto for a job.
What’s the score of the game? There’s only a million or so sites that can tell you that right now, plus give you tons of information beyond the score because all they do is sports.
Ditto for cooking, entertainment, politics, culture, and even neighborhood news.
So, instead of competing with these specialized venues (probably a bad idea) or turning the New York Times website into a destination for conversations (probably a good idea, destinations mean pages views, pages views mean ad revenue, ad revenue means continued employment), the Times went for option C – what I like to call “Hide behind a wall.”
And here’s how Option C is going to work out. At first, a lot of loyal subscribers will sign up. The initial numbers might even look promising. People are paying and coming into the castle. “We’re saved!”
You aren’t.
Your good stories, the real winners, will leak out. Everyone will read them, however they’ll completely ignore the rest of the New York Times. Your overall page impressions will fall. So will your ad revenue. Suddenly, your only source of income will be your subscribers.
And that leads us to part two. Subscribers will stop growing. Quickly. Bringing new subscribers in after that first generation will be harder. Keeping subscribers will be harder. After you erect a pay wall, there’ll be an initial vacuum in the news market. Your brand is now focusing inward, and all your former readers who wouldn’t pony up the cash few an online subscription? They’ll move on. Someone else will get them.
Eventually, your brand loyalty will wane. Current subscribers will start to leave. Getting new customers will become nigh impossible. You’ll be forced with two options – raise prices or innovate. Raising prices will drive more customers away and make getting new ones even more difficult. Innovating, well, we’ve already seen the Old Gray Lady thinks of that.
And if you still think this whole pay wall thing is a good idea? Why don’t you talk to the folks who were in charge way back in 2007, when you ended your other pay wall – TimesSelect.
Ah, the Franklin Mint. You’ve stood too long and produced too many “commemorative” items to go without some serious checking.
Wow! Don’t you feel patriotic! Don’t you want to own not one, but fifty pieces of American history? Well, let’s hope not, because then we couldn’t be friends. Let’s dissect a commercial, shall we?
I didn’t want my family to miss out…
Bandwagon
Ah, an appeal to emotion. It’s so passive-aggressive. Did you see what she did there? Here’s how it works based on a faulty premise – because she cares for her family, she bought them the product in this commercial. Because you have yet to do so, you don’t love your family. And she’s a better mother than you. Better start dialing now.
on a piece of America that’s valued today…
Appeal to Patriotism
Insert an appeal to patriotism. It’s worked before, and it’s technically true. Currency is technically a piece of America. As for value, we know that, it’s $12.50. Fifty quarters. That’s like a single person’s trip to the laundromat!
…and will be even more meaningful tomorrow.
Hasty Generalization
Define meaning. If you are equating “meaning” to “value” then you’re assuming that this set will be worth more tomorrow. And true, some coins will be more valuable tomorrow, but most won’t. Not bad, three logical fallacies and we’re only 9 seconds into the commercial.
So, thanks to the Franklin Mint, I gave them not one piece of American history, but fifty.
Questionable Math
Obscure Pronoun Use
No, thank you! Wait, since this is a work commissioned by the Franklin Mint, aren’t you self-congratulating there? So, it’s not a collection, a single entity, but fifty quarters?
The grammar nerds picked up on this one right away. In the above sentence “them” implies Franklin Mint, as that was the last noun used prior to the pronoun.
This is the complete collection of fifty commemorative state quarters from the Franklin Mint, a value never to be seen again.
Contradiction
Faulty Premise
And the first contradiction. It’s not fifty pieces, it’s a collection. And here’s the first use of the term “value.” Value is a really wonderful term, it’s not fixed or provable like “cost” or “price.” Value differs on a person to person basis. That’s some lawyered up language there.
That last bit “never to be seen again”? That’s a nice bit of false assumptions there. The Franklin Mint isn’t the only people selling these commemorative collections, but they would like you to believe they are, and that one day, they’ll stop.
These coins are in brilliant, uncirculated condition, have never been in circulation, and will never be minuted again.
Appeal to Authority
A fine example of making up a word that then turns a sentence into a redundant construct. The assumption at the end is a fairly safe one, but because an “authority” was used to make it (Jay W. Johnson, 36th Director of the U.S. Mint), we’re expected to assume it’s true. Mr. Johnson was the director of the U.S. Mint for one year (2000-2001), and since went on to work for both The Franklin Mint and Goldline International.
In fact, many have already increased in value, some as much as 400%.
Questionable Math
Yikes. This one is really bad. An increase in value of 400% for a US quarter is…are you ready for this?…$1.00. Seriously, do the math.
Oh, and were you able to read that fine print? Here’s how the Franklin Mint tries to cover their asses through tiny text: Historical increases in value do not guarantee that coins in this program will increase in value. So, even if those coins had increased in value before, there’s no guarantee they’ll be worth that much in the future, or even now. Because a lot of things can change the value of an object…like increasing the supply.
Why do I own these rare quarters representing every state in America? Because they’re a value I can pass on, that’s too good to pass up.
Straw Man
Appeal to Patriotism
Non-sequitor/Gambler’s Fallacy
Asking yourself a question is poor form in rhetoric. Why? Because when you do that, you frame an easier argument for yourself in the mind of the audience. By the way, did you catch the tasty irony I just used?
The answer provided can actually go one of two ways depending on how it’s punctuated. If Franklin Mint is playing it safe, and put a comma or period in that sentence, then it becomes a non sequitur. The first sentence says that the quarters are rare, and implies value. The second sentence asserts that the value would come from the ability to pass the quarters on.
If we remove the comma, than we fall into the Gambler’s Fallacy. By passing these quarters on, the speaker is saying that these quarters will eventually be worth money.
In today’s economy, who needs uncertainty? This is a solid, all-American value.
Appeal to Fear
Appeal to Patriotism
Questionable Math
Yeah, the economy sucks. That solid, all-American value? If you bust those quarters out of the case and take them to the store, you can buy $12.50 worth of groceries. Unless the economy collapses, at which point, they won’t hold any value beyond the usefulness of the metal. Have fun trying to eat quarters.
Call now and ask how you can be eligible to receive the first ten quarters absolutely free. We will also tell you how you can attain the remaining forty coins to complete your question, as well as a free display, this special collectors booklet describing each coin, and a certificate of authenticity. As a bonus, you’ll receive “Hidden Treasures Around You” a guide to valuable coins that might be in your home right now.
What a sick block of text. Here the Franklin Mint is trying to sweeten the pot by promising free things. If we take this block at face value, that means that the customer is only paying for the quarters. All fifty, you’re paying $12.50. Get ten free and the price drops down to $10.00.
Call now because many of these mint condition coins are scarce and many have increased in value, some as much as 400%.
Questionable Math
Unfounded Premise
Ah, that 400% number does sound impressive, doesn’t it? And you should call now, because many of these “mint condition coins” are scarce. Scarcity is the source of value in physical goods, isn’t it? But we’re presented with this claim without any proof. How scarce? Which coins?
Today, it’s almost impossible to find a complete set of these quarters in mint condition and they will never be minted again.
Contradiction
Appeal to Authority
First thing’s first. Impossible to find? Hardly. You’re contradicting that claim by selling these sets. And the second bit? Now you’re just repeating a second fallacy. Repetition of a falsehood does not make it a truth.
If only I had bought that back then, look what it’s worth now. Now I say, if only I had bought two or three of these collections.
Hasty Generalization
Appeal to Emotion
A double whammy!
The first fallacy is implied. The argument is as follows, “Some coins rise in value. These are coins. These coins will raise in value.” Or not. You never know. But statistically, they won’t.
The second is an appeal towards happiness, or more correctly, away from regret. Don’t regret not purchasing these coins, buy them and be happy instead.
Less than 1% of Americans will ever own this complete collection. Will you be one of them?
Questionable Math
Snob Appeal
Less than 1% of all American’s sounds really small, doesn’t it? I mean, since it’s “less than,” it could mean like thirty people. However, it could also mean one person less than 1% of the American population. Taking a recent round U.S. population number, 330,000,000, that means no more than 3,299,999 people can own the set. That’s more than the population of Iowa, the 30th most populous state.
Knowing the reality of that number takes the impact out of the next claim, but the motive is implied. Only a lucky few will own this set. Are you part of the lucky few? Text book snob appeal.
* * *
For those actually interested in buying a set of these quarters, street value $12.50, you can contact the Franklin Mint. If you catch a commercial while it airs, you can get the set for two easy payments of $19.95. If you order online, you’ll be paying $49.50.
Bradley Robb likes TV and books, and has an intense dislike for cinnamon. Once, Bradley stopped a Soviet T-60 with his middle finger. Bradley writes speculative fiction and edits Fiction Matters, and never really got the hang of talking about himself in the third person.