I hear band names, and some of them don’t even know they’re bands. Prefork, The Govs, Podium California – those are just the three most recent. The names just jump out from unsuspecting places and in some quantum sense, a band forms. And I’m not the only one.
And the problem with fake band names is that once you start looking for them, you see them everywhere. You start assigning genres, idiosyncrasies, member names, album art. If you know your music history – this is exactly how Def Leppard started.
Sometime over the past year, I started tweeting the band names I’d find in CAPTCHA codes at Mixx.com. And I wasn’t alone. The volume of CAPTCHA bands started to increase with new discoveries found daily. At Twitter events, I’d end up talking about CAPTCHA bands with other users – Brad Carr, Dean Browell, and Carrie Fleck being the three other local CAPTCHA band spotters.
Yesterday morning I received a DM and Facebook message from, good guy and friend of the blog, Dean Browell. He was taking the CAPTCHA band mini-meme to the next level – a Facebook Fan Page.
The idea is just as simple as the Twitter action we’d been doing for the better part of a year now, albeit in a bit longer form and benefiting from multimedia. I quickly roped Justin into the group, swallowed my rather strong dislike for Facebook, and jumped in.
So far, we’ve managed to get six CAPTCHA bands up, and I’ll include one of them below. If you’re into that whole Facebook thing, and you’d like to Fan the page, here’s a link. It’s still early, but there’s some quality stuff up there.
The Govs
Prison State
Orange County in the late seventies was known more for it’s love of disco and The Eagles than it was of the proto-punk movements developing in Detroit, London, Manchester, and New York City. But when Steve Greer’s disco-glitter band, The Lovelights, signed with Columbia Records, the teenage Lester Greer had enough.
Adopting the stage name “Butch” and teaming up with two fellow teenage ne’erdowells, the younger Greer brother launched what is arguably the first SoCal proto-punk band – The Govs. With much of the band lacking anything close to musical talent, and having spent most of their lives in the well-to-do Los Angeles suburb, the trio overcompensated with profanity and aggression.
The band’s first album, “Screw California”, was twelve adaptations of the Richard Berry classic “Louie Louie” with alternate lyrics and a tempo that clocked each track in a mere ninety seconds. But the messages, deriding the recently ended Vietnam War, the disastrous Nixon presidency, and a perceived Orwellian police state in which “the government collud[ed] with corporate interests to enslave the masses” resonated with the students of Laguna Beach High School.
The lo-fidelity honesty of the first album was quickly lost as parents of band members fronted the money for a true demo, the better known “Prison State.” Under the tutelage of a Benny Stills, a failed musician in his own right, Greer and his cohorts were put through the paces in a real studio, instructed in the use of their musical instruments, and given a basic understanding of song writing.
The experience is believed to have been detrimental to the outcome of not only the album but also the band. Produced to within an inch of its life, the Govs’ second album was derided as derivative, meritless, lacking in real world experience, and nearly causing the death of punk before the burgeoning genre was truly alive.
Several record labels professed an interest in Prison State, and it received a rather wide release. The band, however, broke up shortly after completion and thus never toured in support of the record. The impact of Prison State was far greater than any involved could have predicted, and is seen as a major influence on modern day acts such as Green Day and Nickleback.
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.
The Internet is nothing if it ain’t a powerful resource for pranks. And why not? It allows large numbers of people to exert minimal effort to create powerful inside jokes. That, ladies and gentlemen, is what local TV news anchor, and friend of the blog, Ryan Nobles appears to be doing.
For those not local to Richmond, the city finally succeeded the diamond-shaped hole that was left with the Richmond Braves baseball team left town by bringing in a replacement. There was a whole mess of news stories and controversy about this attempt hinging first on where to put the stadium and then on the mascot.
Richmond's Terror That Glides From The Trees
Let’s talk about that mascot, and the no-goodery I promised in the title, shall we? It’s a Flying Squirrel. Not exactly an image that strikes terror into the hearts of visiting teams, but the company is trying to make Richmond baseball a family-friendly event and I’m okay with that. What I am really okay with, however, is that apparently the local paper, the Richmond Times-Dispatch, is holding a contest to name said mascot.
Enter Ryan Nobles. Apparently Ryan thinks that the mascot should be named after another local-legend and friend of the blog, one Weather Dan. So, Ryan put out the call today to have everyone vote along those lines.
Man, I am excited about this one. I’ve known and enjoyed Dieter’s music since back when me slipping him whiskey was contributing to the delinquency of a musician. We both left Lancaster right around the same time, but Dieter somehow found time to return to the Red Rose city and produce an album that captures it with an amazing measure of accuracy.
And like a proud instigator, I’ve talked Dieter in allowing me to give his album away. It’s light. It’s haunted. And it’s about one banjo short from being Lancaster’s official take on the burgeoning and exciting neo-Depressionist genre (Avett Brothers, Old Crow Medicine Show, Langhorne Slim, etc).
So, if you’re interested in getting your folk on, head over here and download Dietrich Strause’s self-titled, independently produced debut.And if you like it, feel free (hell, feel obligated) to pass it on.
Things have been quiet around here lately, but not for lack of trying. Frankly, for someone who hasn’t earned an honest paycheck since June, I’ve been remarkably busy. First, I’ve been doing a good bit of freelancing work, so much so that I had to take a good joke and try and turn it into an honest business. If you remember The Pandemic Group – the fake new media marketing company I started when the Swine Flu first became big news – you might be shocked (shocked!*) to see that the fake website has since been replaced with a brochure landing page.
Yes, that does mean I am starting my own company. And I already have some really cool clients. Instead of operating a strict SEO company, I’m leveraging what I call “conversational marketing” – that is combining smart SEO practices with helping companies take advantage of social media to find current and new customers and turn them into friends.
And speaking of social media, I presented on that very topic – of honing in your passion and finding others who share it – at this month’s Social Media Club here in Richmond. I had a blast and will post the videos of said presentation when they become available. I use the plural because not only was my presentation recorded, but I was also interviewed by Jolie O’Dell who came up what I believe she called “Robb’s Theorem on Furries in Niche Marketing.”
The basic premise of that theory is that furries, people dressed up like animals pretending to be people, is perhaps as far removed from normal life as any particular niche or vertical can be. And yet, when you take that passion and expand it onto a global scale, furries measure in the millions. If such a finite passion can measure in that quantity, other niches can reasonably duplicate that kind of community.
The video interview wasn’t the only bit of press that night. Grid Magazine was in attendance and snagged not only the photo of my above, but also a fairly good recap of the night in general. I do believe that this article officially marks the first time I’ve been on the other side of a printed byline. Yes, I’ve been on the local NBC affiliate a few times, but there is a special place in my heart for printed journalism.
And finally, in fiction writing news, I am now a full chapter into the second act of Project Kingdom. In the traditional Three Act Structure, this one is always my favorite. Why? Because the first act is really a setup, establishing the characters, pushing the hero on their call to action, setting the characters on their chosen paths and providing small victories which seem huge at the time. The first act, in other words, is driving by the characters. In the second act, everything is taken away from them.
Mark my words, the second act of Project Kingdom is where things get real. Across the board, characters find their best laid plans going to waste, and even those pulling the strings find themselves losing control. People die. Things go wrong. Powers shift and roles are revered on a regular basis. And I’m exceptionally excited about writing it.
But I’m going to pound out a short story first. Why? Well, I watched the documentary “Postcards from the Future” on Friday night, and Chuck Palahniuk got me all inspired. I started thinking about technology, darkness, and the digital artifacts we leave behind. Throw in a castoff line from a Washington Social Scene Song…(“If any rock’s going to save my soul then what the fuck is it waiting for?”) and a story started to brew.
I banged out an outline in a few minutes, and I liked what I saw. I still don’t know the characters, but I’ve got 4,000 words left on my goal for WriteClubRVA, and I figure it’s about time I knock out something I can show.
I guess that means people are going to get a free story from me. If you’re wondering what my short stories typically look like, I’ve got a couple online in my portfolio.
*Bonus points if you got that movie reference. Hint – it’s my all time favorite film.
Because they apparently really love me too. A few months ago I went through the process of getting Fiction Matters included in the database of feeds which Google crawls for their news section. Since then, Google News has become one of my leading sources of traffic. Honestly, I have no idea what Murdoch and Co. get so angry about.I would be more angry if Google didn’t include me than if they did.
Also, look at the company they’ve put me in – Google used my image and slotted me below the Huffington Post and the LA Times, but above the CSM and 79 other periodicals. And they did so for the broadest possible search term.
If you happen to follow my Twitter feed, you’ve undoubtedly notice that I tend to watch a lot of television. And by a lot, I mean not just in volume, but also in variety. I sample a large section of genres, with my primary viewing focused on story.
I am a sucker for story. I can overlook poor acting, even rough writing, if the overall plot and characters are worthwhile entities. Do it right, build both plot and character out in a serial fashion, and television can be just as fulfilling medium as literature and easily trumps film. Do it wrong, and you’re simply couching commercials and wasting everyone’s time. Do it really wrong, and you’re most of Bravo’s reality television programming.
But I really want to talk about one term which only true TV and movie nerds know: Ensign Ricky. It’s a fun little term used to denote a character who is quickly thrust amongst the major players in any story only to setup an emotional shock when said character is killed off. The term references the original “Star Trek” though I first encountered it in Fox’s “Family Guy.”
Tonight, I used the term in reference to AMC’s “Mad Men.” After weeks of half-assed episodes where the characters became their flaws rather simply being guided by them, AMC finally gave us a plot episode. And the Ensign Ricky moment (if you’ve seen the episode, you know what I’m talking about) actually got me to swear out loud and on Skype simultaneously.
Truthfully, the use of Ensign Ricky as a plot device can a bad thing. Over do it, and the audience will become immune. Like any other device, once it becomes a clutch, it becomes cliché. Used sparingly, and in a wholly unexpected way, and the audience is suddenly much more aware. Other characters become more important. A sense of mortality is bestowed. More so, the writers look like they know what the hell they are doing.
So, congratulations go out to the writers’ room at “Mad Men” for pulling themselves out of their funk and finally delivering an episode where the plot shapes the characters and for tossing an Ensign Ricky in to put the cherry on the top.
Things have been quiet around here lately, but not for lack of trying. Frankly, for someone who hasn’t earned an honest paycheck since June, I’ve been remarkably busy. First, I’ve been doing a good bit of freelancing work, so much so that I had to take a good joke and try and turn it into an honest business. If you remember 
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.