One of the great things about joining a fraternity, other than the lifelong friendships and resultant oddly shaped patches of missing body hair, are the stories. Stories that are called to mind after seeing videos like this one about Mr. Earlie Johnson:
"My collection was the best in Michigan! A guy in Connecticut told me that."
A tragedy. A tear-jerker even. Which reminds me of another jerker of a story, one from the vault if you will.
I have written about Spring Break '96 in this space previously. Before setting sail for Booz Crooz Island from the Burg someone, to whom I shall refer as "Schneider," "borrowed" a videotape from someone to whom I shall refer as "Gschvinn." Two important facts about the videotape are that it was (1) a rental from Video Update, the video store on Bypass Road, and (2) titled "Anal Angels 3." Schneider never told Gschvinn that he borrowed it and Gschvinn thought it was lost to the Unit M black hole that soaked up CDs, socks, and myriad other artifacts of frat life.
Years later, Schneider and I were living "right outside" of New York City and assembling a modest (compared to the guy in Michigan, based on the opinion of the guy in Connecticut) collection of smut. Much of it was bad because the good stuff cost more (huzzah for the internet!). The worst of the bunch was a multi-volume video set of "Classic Swedish Erotica" that Schneider acquired through some bulk purchase--he may in fact have received cash to take this stuff off its previous owner's hands. The videos should have been great. Swedish women are notoriously beautiful and the adjective "classic" made the tapes sound like must-see-TV. But in reality "classic" just meant old and "Swedish" referred to the ethnicity of one of the cameramen, not the actresses (who were generally unattractive with massive disco mitts). Simply put, there was nothing classic, Swedish, or erotic about these movies. But we made do.
Our close proximity to the Big Apple made our crib a go-to destination for the Lammie jetset crowd. So, naturally, Gschvinn eventually came to visit. After a night of carousing I entered my living room and found Gschvinn prone on my hand-me-down floral yellow couch, covered in the patina of sweat, sebum, nicotine, and malt liquor that only men in their early-to-mid twenties can generate, nursing a hangover. He professed a need for the famous hangover cure-all: shit, shower, shave, shmoke, and a shpank. I told him that he could do all of those things, as I am a famously gracious host, but asked him to wait for me to leave before doing so.
Gschvinn greatfully obliged and asked me to direct him to our nearest porn depository. I told him that several tapes were stored, naturally, behind my vinyl box set of The Smithsonian's Collection of Classic Jazz. Jazzed to jazz, Gschvinn dove into the stack and, to his great dismay, pulled out a copy of "Anal Angels 3" emblazoned with a Video Update sticker. Purple with rage, Gschvinn regaled me with the story of how the thought the tape was lost and the great dishonor that fell upon him when Video Update repeatedly harranged him for it. Apparently a few female students worked there and learned that he not only rented the film but that he absconded with it, making him a particlarly dirty bastard in their eyes. He eventually had to pony up a vast sum of money to cover the loss lest his credit rating get ruined, adding further insult to injury.
Gschvinn hatched his plan of retribution: he would steal Schneider's most beloved video. He held up "Classic Swedish Erotica: Volume 7" and asked "Does Schneider like this one?" Happy to get this atrocity out of my house, I lied that this was a foundational video in Schneider's rotation, the ace of the staff, and thus Gschvinn absconded with it.
Predictably, Schneider didn't notice. There were at least 8 total volumes to "Classic Swedish Erotica" and each of them was chaff that was routinely passed over for better stuff. Life moved on without a hitch.
Several months later, Schneider was in DC with a lady friend in order, among other things, to attend a keg party at Gschvinn's. Primary of those "other things" was a little quality romantic time with the lady friend in question. Upon arriving at the party, Schneider gallantly filled his lady's Solo cup and began filling his own when Gschvinn's roommate, to whom I shall refer as "Teedge" and said "Hey, Schneider, here's your 'Classic Swedish Erotica: Volume 7.' Thanks for letting Gschvinn borrow it, but that's some nasty shit. It turned my stomach. How do you get off to that? Dirty mothafucker." Schneider was stunned. His lady was repulsed. The rest of the weekend did not go as planned.
Hopefully karma will come around and get the thief that stole Mr. Johnson's collection in a similar fashion.
Showing posts with label Karma (Chameleon) Police. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Karma (Chameleon) Police. Show all posts
Monday, February 25, 2013
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Calling the Karma Police
How much did you pay for the new Radiohead album?
As you might've heard, established British purveyors of modern alternative smooth music Radiohead elected to make their latest effort, In Rainbows, available for download from their website for a sum to be determined by each consumer. As the BBC now tells us, however, 62% of downloaders are deciding they'll give no cash back for the opportunity to grab these ten songs:
To their credit, the band hasn't pulled the plug on this unique method of releasing a record even as this news arrives. I mean, they sort of had to figure there'd be a lot of freeloaders, right? The cynical side of me marvels that 38% of people are actually forking over money for what could be a free album. But then again, I paid for the album . . . and I'm still irritated at myself and the record industry for the ill-afforded thousands of dollars I handed it in the 1990's. But pay for the mp3's I did, and so did one in three.
What is it that wills people to give semi-anonymously to a band that doesn't need the revenue?
Is it a deep-rooted sense of doing the right thing?
A Pavlovian effect wherein you know you just never get something for nothing and therefore open up the wallet involuntarily?
Or is it more paranoid, a peering-over-your-shoulder sense that some authority is judging you by your donation -- either the Lord in heaven, or the band itself looking at your credit card receipt?
Is it a combination of guilt, duty, and vanity, so you fill the box with numbers that correspond to your perceived socio-economic strata?
Not really sure.
For me, some of these may have played a factor, but the Visa charge was basically my tiny gesture of applause for one band's circumvention of convention in a manner that
rewards the only people that matter -- the fans -- while cutting out the necessary, often evil middleman -- the record company. We could get into a larger discussion of Radiohead as Robin Hood, the tilted economics of the music industry, and pros and cons of the major label, and Warner Music & Ticketmaster as the Scylla and Charybdis of rock and roll (forgive me, I also saw The Police the other night) . . . but nobody comes to Gheorghe: The Blog for such heavy-handed analyses and debates.
(They come, I assume, for TJ's YouTube clips and O.J. jokes, my made-up nicknames and self-righteous blathering, and Rob's superlative insight from his vantage point below sea level. But I digress.)
In this case, let's just say that one group has issued a novel, even enlightened take on getting their music to the masses in a way that doesn't squeeze the listeners for every cent, not to mention a way that helps the environment. They aren't the first band to try to tackle an industry behemoth (Pearl Jam battled Goliath Ticketmaster in vain a decade ago); they aren't even the first to give away their tunes in a method that's equal parts of-the-people democracy and very savvy marketing. Just like those artists who scoffed at Metallica for their short-sightedness and embraced the Internet age as a way of delivering their sound to countless new listeners, Radiohead now draws headlines, raises eyebrows, makes a few new fans, and returns plenty of revenues in a way that just another CD on the shelves of Sam Goody for $18.99 never, ever could. It's shrewd, make no mistake, but it's also a pretty cool way to go about the business side of the art form.
But is it Gheorghe-y?
The Radiohead approach isn't entirely altruistic; it's gimmicky, pseudo-anarchic, and ultimately deceptively capitalistic (which is why it just might work). It's innovative, though, and it certainly takes steps towards easing the public's investment risk in rock and roll. A check mark for cleverness, a check mark for freezing out the stereotypical record company "fat cats," and oh yeah, one more for delivering an album whose merit goes above and beyond the style-over-substance, overhyped dud that it could have been. It's slower than I usually enjoy, but there are more actual "songs" than musical meanderings this time around, and it's worth the £4 I plunked down.
As for this phenomenon's level of Gheorghitude, it lacks the requisite silliness of G:TB-endorsed efforts, which is fairly unsurprising for Radiohead (and most Britpop, excepting perhaps the occasional Blur or Pulp). You know, silliness like this.
If Ween or They Might Be Giants end up following suit, it's unparalleled Gheorgheness for the music world. We can only hope.
What about against-the-grain economic system shakers in sports?
Right now in baseball all the chatter is whether Alex Rodriguez will "earn" 300 or 350 million dollars over the next stretch of years. As difficult as it is to justify a baseball player making $30+M a year -- and dear lord, that's difficult -- a Smithian, purely capitalistic approach can make a case for it. Those who think that ARod won't grab every cent he can because he has some sort of conscience about wrecking the Rangers or because he needs an extra fifty mill like I need that 26th cold one at 4 AM are deluding themselves in almost cartoonish fashion
. Alas, those sinister villains Boras and Natasha (ARod makes a nice Natasha, no?) are two steps ahead of simple Bullwinkle (me) and little Rocky (Rob). (TJ, I guess you're Peabody the encyclopedic dog.)
Of course he's going for it all. He won't quit until he's reached the GNP of half the UN. What's to stop him? The expected public backlash from Windfall #1 didn't slow him one iota. His peers are just as determined to maximize their bankrolls, so why should he be the guy to make a sacrifice? And just who would be benefiting, the old boys club of Caucasian Codgers we call owners?? Guys like Big Stein and Nap Angelos? Please. Even if ARod wanted to settle for less, he has two very big thugs shoving him into the biggest payload possible: Scott Boras and the Players' Union, two entities of great influence, highly exaggerated self-worth and deeply misguided principles.
Not. Gonna. Happen.
We're talking about a business where even an otherwise respectable participant like Ivan Rodriguez notifies his previous ownership at the start of free agency that "there will be no hometown discount," gets stymied by the rest of the league, then bemoans the disrespect his club showed him considering the sentimentality of the prior year's success. Hypocrisy, shadiness, and outright lying, all in the name of making the most money. It's the aspect of sport where our "heroes" are revealed to be abundantly human, and the only solace we fans can take comes courtesy of our friend Jimmy Giovanelli, who reminds us that the country gets a little boost every time some young, dumb jock is given millions of dollars to inject rapidly and ruthlessly back into the economy.
An act of personal sacrifice, though?
Not. Gonna. Happen.
But what if it did? What if it could? What if Alex Rodriguez's balls finally dropped (presumably from him yelling "Aaaah!!!" as he ran by them) and he decided that this was about much more than his own greedy satisfaction? What if it no longer mattered to him whether he'd be able to afford yet another friggin' Pomeranian, or yet another condo in
South Beach or Chelsea or Key West or San Fran or Provincetown or Fire Island? What if he decided to make an entirely new legend for himself, casting aside all preconceived notions of what we know Alex Rodriguez to be and establishing himself as the man of the people for all times?
How would he go about it? Professional athletes, unlike professional musicians, don't make their livelihood on creative brilliance. Plus, with an industry like Major League Baseball, there's no bucking the system and having fans pay him through the website. But what if ARod, or any other megastar, decided that he could get by (eke out a living on Ramen noodles and mac & cheese) on $10 million a year? He could sign on with just about any team in the league at that point, perhaps setting his sights on some sad sack but good karma small-market team who needs a boost to get over the hump. Fight the Union, fire his agent. Make a mint in endorsements as the baseball's returning hero. Be beloved by every yahoo who clamors for the salary cap. (That's me, standing right behind Bob Costas.)
Meanwhile, he could make the case that the savings he provided the owner needs to be recouped a bit with our help -- we who would get to the ballpark more for less with ticket sales not skyrocketing to pay his salary. We would be able to make donations at the park and online to The [Insert Player Name Here] Foundation, a charity focusing on some needy group of folks in the team's metro area. For every dollar the fans contribute, the owner matches it (perhaps in a tax-deductible fashion). Some set-up like that where the player still gets great money, the team has a better chance to win, the fans are happy, and the charity gets a bonus.
Yep, there are probably a dozen flaws, but I'm thinking off the top of my head. With some time, the right people thinking for him, and a fiscal strategy that makes some sense, it could be done. I'm sure Radiohead's plan began as a cockamamie scheme in somebody's head, but they made it happen. And right up until ARod signs with some foolhardy team (dear God, please not the Mets) for 500 bazillion pounds sterling, I'll keep wondering if practicality or prudence will make an appearance in the Hot Stove sessions. And listening to these mp3's.
As you might've heard, established British purveyors of modern alternative smooth music Radiohead elected to make their latest effort, In Rainbows, available for download from their website for a sum to be determined by each consumer. As the BBC now tells us, however, 62% of downloaders are deciding they'll give no cash back for the opportunity to grab these ten songs:
Fans were invited to put their own price on the 10 mp3 files that made up In Rainbows, from nothing to £100. But internet monitoring company Comscore found that only 38% of downloaders willingly paid to do so. The average price paid for the album was $6 (£2.90), the study found. American fans were the most generous, paying on average $8.05 (£3.85), compared to the $4.64 (£2.22) paid by those outside the US. [Of course, some might suggest the American geniuses are confused by the whole "pounds sterling" thing and intended to pay less.] Of those who were willing to pay, the largest percentage (17%) paid less than $4 (£1.90). However 12% were willing to pay between $8-$12, (£3.80 - £5.71).Shocking, of course.
To their credit, the band hasn't pulled the plug on this unique method of releasing a record even as this news arrives. I mean, they sort of had to figure there'd be a lot of freeloaders, right? The cynical side of me marvels that 38% of people are actually forking over money for what could be a free album. But then again, I paid for the album . . . and I'm still irritated at myself and the record industry for the ill-afforded thousands of dollars I handed it in the 1990's. But pay for the mp3's I did, and so did one in three.
What is it that wills people to give semi-anonymously to a band that doesn't need the revenue?
Is it a deep-rooted sense of doing the right thing?
A Pavlovian effect wherein you know you just never get something for nothing and therefore open up the wallet involuntarily?
Or is it more paranoid, a peering-over-your-shoulder sense that some authority is judging you by your donation -- either the Lord in heaven, or the band itself looking at your credit card receipt?
Is it a combination of guilt, duty, and vanity, so you fill the box with numbers that correspond to your perceived socio-economic strata?
Not really sure.
For me, some of these may have played a factor, but the Visa charge was basically my tiny gesture of applause for one band's circumvention of convention in a manner that
rewards the only people that matter -- the fans -- while cutting out the necessary, often evil middleman -- the record company. We could get into a larger discussion of Radiohead as Robin Hood, the tilted economics of the music industry, and pros and cons of the major label, and Warner Music & Ticketmaster as the Scylla and Charybdis of rock and roll (forgive me, I also saw The Police the other night) . . . but nobody comes to Gheorghe: The Blog for such heavy-handed analyses and debates.(They come, I assume, for TJ's YouTube clips and O.J. jokes, my made-up nicknames and self-righteous blathering, and Rob's superlative insight from his vantage point below sea level. But I digress.)
In this case, let's just say that one group has issued a novel, even enlightened take on getting their music to the masses in a way that doesn't squeeze the listeners for every cent, not to mention a way that helps the environment. They aren't the first band to try to tackle an industry behemoth (Pearl Jam battled Goliath Ticketmaster in vain a decade ago); they aren't even the first to give away their tunes in a method that's equal parts of-the-people democracy and very savvy marketing. Just like those artists who scoffed at Metallica for their short-sightedness and embraced the Internet age as a way of delivering their sound to countless new listeners, Radiohead now draws headlines, raises eyebrows, makes a few new fans, and returns plenty of revenues in a way that just another CD on the shelves of Sam Goody for $18.99 never, ever could. It's shrewd, make no mistake, but it's also a pretty cool way to go about the business side of the art form.
But is it Gheorghe-y?
The Radiohead approach isn't entirely altruistic; it's gimmicky, pseudo-anarchic, and ultimately deceptively capitalistic (which is why it just might work). It's innovative, though, and it certainly takes steps towards easing the public's investment risk in rock and roll. A check mark for cleverness, a check mark for freezing out the stereotypical record company "fat cats," and oh yeah, one more for delivering an album whose merit goes above and beyond the style-over-substance, overhyped dud that it could have been. It's slower than I usually enjoy, but there are more actual "songs" than musical meanderings this time around, and it's worth the £4 I plunked down.
As for this phenomenon's level of Gheorghitude, it lacks the requisite silliness of G:TB-endorsed efforts, which is fairly unsurprising for Radiohead (and most Britpop, excepting perhaps the occasional Blur or Pulp). You know, silliness like this.
If Ween or They Might Be Giants end up following suit, it's unparalleled Gheorgheness for the music world. We can only hope.
What about against-the-grain economic system shakers in sports?
Right now in baseball all the chatter is whether Alex Rodriguez will "earn" 300 or 350 million dollars over the next stretch of years. As difficult as it is to justify a baseball player making $30+M a year -- and dear lord, that's difficult -- a Smithian, purely capitalistic approach can make a case for it. Those who think that ARod won't grab every cent he can because he has some sort of conscience about wrecking the Rangers or because he needs an extra fifty mill like I need that 26th cold one at 4 AM are deluding themselves in almost cartoonish fashion
. Alas, those sinister villains Boras and Natasha (ARod makes a nice Natasha, no?) are two steps ahead of simple Bullwinkle (me) and little Rocky (Rob). (TJ, I guess you're Peabody the encyclopedic dog.)Of course he's going for it all. He won't quit until he's reached the GNP of half the UN. What's to stop him? The expected public backlash from Windfall #1 didn't slow him one iota. His peers are just as determined to maximize their bankrolls, so why should he be the guy to make a sacrifice? And just who would be benefiting, the old boys club of Caucasian Codgers we call owners?? Guys like Big Stein and Nap Angelos? Please. Even if ARod wanted to settle for less, he has two very big thugs shoving him into the biggest payload possible: Scott Boras and the Players' Union, two entities of great influence, highly exaggerated self-worth and deeply misguided principles.
Not. Gonna. Happen.
We're talking about a business where even an otherwise respectable participant like Ivan Rodriguez notifies his previous ownership at the start of free agency that "there will be no hometown discount," gets stymied by the rest of the league, then bemoans the disrespect his club showed him considering the sentimentality of the prior year's success. Hypocrisy, shadiness, and outright lying, all in the name of making the most money. It's the aspect of sport where our "heroes" are revealed to be abundantly human, and the only solace we fans can take comes courtesy of our friend Jimmy Giovanelli, who reminds us that the country gets a little boost every time some young, dumb jock is given millions of dollars to inject rapidly and ruthlessly back into the economy.
An act of personal sacrifice, though?
Not. Gonna. Happen.
But what if it did? What if it could? What if Alex Rodriguez's balls finally dropped (presumably from him yelling "Aaaah!!!" as he ran by them) and he decided that this was about much more than his own greedy satisfaction? What if it no longer mattered to him whether he'd be able to afford yet another friggin' Pomeranian, or yet another condo in
South Beach or Chelsea or Key West or San Fran or Provincetown or Fire Island? What if he decided to make an entirely new legend for himself, casting aside all preconceived notions of what we know Alex Rodriguez to be and establishing himself as the man of the people for all times?How would he go about it? Professional athletes, unlike professional musicians, don't make their livelihood on creative brilliance. Plus, with an industry like Major League Baseball, there's no bucking the system and having fans pay him through the website. But what if ARod, or any other megastar, decided that he could get by (eke out a living on Ramen noodles and mac & cheese) on $10 million a year? He could sign on with just about any team in the league at that point, perhaps setting his sights on some sad sack but good karma small-market team who needs a boost to get over the hump. Fight the Union, fire his agent. Make a mint in endorsements as the baseball's returning hero. Be beloved by every yahoo who clamors for the salary cap. (That's me, standing right behind Bob Costas.)
Meanwhile, he could make the case that the savings he provided the owner needs to be recouped a bit with our help -- we who would get to the ballpark more for less with ticket sales not skyrocketing to pay his salary. We would be able to make donations at the park and online to The [Insert Player Name Here] Foundation, a charity focusing on some needy group of folks in the team's metro area. For every dollar the fans contribute, the owner matches it (perhaps in a tax-deductible fashion). Some set-up like that where the player still gets great money, the team has a better chance to win, the fans are happy, and the charity gets a bonus.
Yep, there are probably a dozen flaws, but I'm thinking off the top of my head. With some time, the right people thinking for him, and a fiscal strategy that makes some sense, it could be done. I'm sure Radiohead's plan began as a cockamamie scheme in somebody's head, but they made it happen. And right up until ARod signs with some foolhardy team (dear God, please not the Mets) for 500 bazillion pounds sterling, I'll keep wondering if practicality or prudence will make an appearance in the Hot Stove sessions. And listening to these mp3's.
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