Archive for the 'Pop Culture' Category

Thought experiment time.

Pretend for a moment that the nation’s publishers met Godfather-style in a smoke-filled room somewhere high atop midtown Sixth Avenue. Everyone is there: The Random House overlords; the Simon & Schuster bosses; the charming and benevolent folk who run McGraw-Hill. All the other bigwigs. In the corner there’s a nice dairy tray with lox and whitefish, but no one’s paying attention to that. The business at hand is way too life and death. The industry heads agree – yes, they’ve been flooding the marketplace with too many books. Too many authors for too many niches and too few eyes.

So they’ve reached a decision. They’re tightening the reins and establishing what amounts to a basement. Let the Internet have its laissez faire free-for-all. That’s what it’s intended for, damn it. But the ink-and-binding set will move in the opposite direction: only credentialed, worthy writers get to publish under commercial banners. Word tumbles down to the editorial gatekeepers that, yes, or rather no, there will be no more taking chances on just anyone’s two bit thesis. Err on the side of exclusion. If something looks like it should be relegated to the vanity presses, it should.

“We can’t afford to take chances on a slush pile’s silt. The draw bridges are rising up, and we’re taking the express elevator to the upper floors of our ivory tower.”

So here’s the question: is there anything wrong with this?

Sure it’s elitist. But we’re evolving into a culture that can allow for a healthy dose of selective elitism when needed. You aren’t Spielberg? So what. Throw that video of your toddler angrily dropping Fuck-words on the family cat onto YouTube. If it’s compelling, a few million people will watch it. Or maybe they’ll prefer your neighbor’s video of Grandpa belching out the national anthem.

But you’ll be better off, either way, because the chance of someone in Singapore seeing your adventures in auteurism is much higher than if you decided to try for a dozen years to secure foreign distribution through Universal.

It’s an extreme and not completely analogous example, but there’s truth to it. Despite all those fancy technological advancements and truncated attention spans leading publishing gradually down the path to the dinosaur graveyard, books matter. They still have cachet. Having your name on the spine right above Knopf or St. Martin’s or Penguin-Putnam still means something to *you as a writer (*did I say me?).

But walk into any Barnes & Noble and look on those overflowing tables. Just gander at some of the people “playing author” right now. It’s one thing to be an expert in a particular field and have a little assistance, whether from a ghostwriter or a co-author, like many in business do. But some of these books are midlife crises with acknowledgments, an index and a marketing budget.

Just because you’re good at one thing, doesn’t mean that you’re a natural in another. It seems true in the book biz. Some people have compelling stories that should be told. Most people do not. And the filters are broken.

There’s a reason we call them vanity presses. They appeal to those self-absorbed bits of every person’s soul, or the bulbs that light whenever you pick up Tolstoy and murmur with your eyes ablaze, “Shit. I could do that.” So go ahead. Publish. Do it independently. Write up your masterpiece, put it on Amazon or in the back of your van, and take it to the people at a state fair. If it’s good it’ll sell—you just have to make them open it up.

The home-schooled child who wrote that dragon book proved just that. More likely, what you wrote is really just for your friends and associates…it’s not good and will not sell. At which point . . . think about giving up. Because just like it’s not every morning a shower karaoke balladeer winds up on Sony BMG, not every halfwit who can “keyboard” (type) and spare time to jot it down, should wind up clogging an already ridiculously congested publishing pipeline.

[I will add that just because you aren’t a pro writer doesn’t mean you need to stop reading books and posting fantastic blog comments….]

TV networks used to carefully build and cultivate shows and they branded the shows as important products; this ensured deep viewer engagement and therefore, ka-$$. We call that long-term viability. But today’s fascination with celebrity reality is a get rich quick pyramid scheme leaving the nets with no shows, no identity, and a hell of a lot of problems. (VH1, we’re talking about you and Flava; listen up).

I was flipping through the cable-waves and couldn’t help but notice a pattern: Dancing With The Stars, Celebrity Fit Club, Celebrity Rehab, Celebrity Apprentice, and I think one on celebrity dieting! Yet the writer’s strike was over! Did the writers stay on vacation?

Out of some weird curiously, I watched the first episode of “Celebrity Rehab” – the term train wreck is a generous review. Seeing Jeff Conaway barely mobile or coherent isn’t entertaining in the least but crept into my soul in a dark way. What happened to privacy for someone’s horrible downfall? To a shred of dignity? Celebrities used to represent some kind of intangible ideal. From Bonaduce to Britney it’s clear that the Hollywood landscape has changed, maybe inalterably.

Flimsy reality TV is in its heyday. Gosh, Hilton’s celeb reality show lasted five seasons! (Gees, yet straight-to-DVD “One Night in Paris” lasted but one horrible night!) And just when we thought it was safe to turn on the tube without her, now we hear she’s coming back with a guest spot on “Earl” and a new show hilariously called “Paris Hilton’s My New BFF”!

Wasn’t realty TV a “Real World” concept born from the desire to watch normal people go through their days with human drama the star? Remember our ole friend Puck! He was never a celebrated guy, didn’t pose for mag covers, but we watched him because he was consistently Puck. And Pedro? He inspired us with his transparency.

So the nets are giving us what we want, yeah. Just look at the ratings over these past years. While the broadcast/cable homes rely on more and more reality, and more and more celebrity crap, viewership for everyone (even Bravo) slides fast into let’s-remake-this-channel territory. They can blame the Internet or games or even, like they did last year, Daylight Savings Time!

But it used to be you watched to “go where everyone knows your name” and where friends were “there for you.” Now we have Hugh Hefner chasing – let’s face it – ho’s. Other than Eliot Spitzer, does anyone REALLY want to know who he’s with when the guy is that gross?

Could be that ratings built on lame reality and tawdry fame isn’t what the public wants and they’re merely watching between laundry runs. Maybe instead of slapping the word celeb on every hair-brained concept, networks should invest in content with a shelf life longer than the latest Us Weekly cover story.

Everything on TV seems to be what works now–this second. Look at Fox. If something doesn’t click with us with super-hype before it airs, it’s history. That is not historically how it’s been with huge hits. So why, then, would it work today?

Building a business with a brand band-aid isn’t a Punk strategy. Being Punk is about listening to your consumer/user/viewer, taking that knowledge to heart so it intelligently works today and keeps people into you tomorrow.

To those short attention span thinkers at E!: maybe Paris doesn’t want us to be our BFF. And you know what? I think the folks at home are happy enough with Miley.

Misguided teen queen Jamie Lynn Spears appeared last night on ABC’s new show, Miss Guided. In dictionaries all across America, the entries for irony just exploded.

The “second” Spears (gee, we need a spare) played a troubled teen debating between going to college or sticking around for a boyfriend. For those of you shacking up in Saddam’s old spiderhole, Jamie Lynn just made the decision to have a baby and take some time off from her acting career.

Is this life imitating art or the other way around?

Her sabbatical is treating her well - things have never been better for SpearsSpare! By taking time off, she meant taking time to get even more famous. Though her pregnancy goes against Nickelodeon’s wholesome image, ratings for her show, Zoey 101 have soared. And the hype around her appearance on Miss Guided… well, I’m even talking about it. (Shame on me, I know.)

Who’s to blame! Let’s go with Juno. Jamie Lynn’s publicists are not idiots, and we know the Spears clan has a knack for drawing attention (self-promotion is too generous). They saw the amniotic fluid on the wall after Juno went big and so they said “Here’s a way to make JLS super known.” Quietly dealing with the situation back home on the Bayou wouldn’t work for this management. Instead they SOLD the story to OK! magazine for seven figures. A nation of kids now considers her the real life Juno McGuff. Except, instead of being the cheese to someone’s macaroni, Jamie Lynn is the Easy Mac for the college kid on a budget (no offense meant to Easy Mac).

In my last post on celebrity babies, I intentionally barely touched on this. There’s just something unsettling about babies having babies. I’m old school, but there’s a way to handle very public scandals that, while acknowledging mistakes, deals with the repercussions soberly. It reflects strong character and just happens to be the healthy way to live a life. It’s a personal opinion, and the public, at least in the long term, appreciates it more than a naked parade around the town square.

That respect/goodwill counts when trying to make a career in the public sphere.

A wise man named Jack Handy once said, “To me, boxing is like a ballet, except there’s no music, no choreography, and the dancers hit each other.” These wise words remind me of the Spears clan. Their lives are primetime dramas, except there are no ratings, nothing but shame gained, and at the end of the third trimester, Jamie Lynn really will have a baby, G-d love her. Sometimes bad publicity is just bad publicity.

Babies are us?

As someone who studies the zeitgeist maybea bit too much, I’m always looking for something “black.” It changes each season… For a while everyone talked about pink but gay is pretty boring these days. Then orange was okay. And my personal favorite was: Black is the new black! Now it seems BABIES are so in. See them inside Juno, see them within Nickelodeon shows, see them on every magazine covers, and now they pop up Friday night on Gilmore Girls’ Amy Palladino’s new Fox vehicle, “Return to Jezebel James,” where girl makes sister have baby. Then weeks later at Tribeca Festival when Fey hires a “Baby Mama” (Amy Poehler, no less) to do it for cash.

And may we speak about Angelina Jolie, Gwen Stefani, Jessica Alba, Halle Berry, Nicole Kidman, and maybe even you? Even one of the Kates is pregnant–who knows which one. Besides all being A-list actresses, these are all pregnant A-listers–except you. And the only thing better then being a Real Hot actress in Hollywood is being a pregnant Talk About in Hollywood.

The media worship such stories. They are the easiest news pegs known to man. The country is headed into economic recession (let’s just say IN an economic recession), we’re in a war in Iraq and Afghanistan, yet Jennifer Lopez is getting paid $6 million for exclusive photos of her babies? I mean, she’s married to a skeleton!

A sort of funny part of the story is that this deal was contingent on the magazine’s promise to stop referring to the actress/singer/dancer/mother as J.Lo. For 6 million they can call your ass anything they want, you know, bitch?

Breathe deep, Richard.

J.Lo (waiting for my cut) is not al. Lots of stars are making bank off babies—and sometimes it’s just news wealth (”keeping me out there”). See, “stars” like Kidman, after eight bombs in a row, need something to keep her alive in the tabs. All the celebrities do it, from X-tina to Nicole Ritchie, who is undoubtedly the ugliest person to ever a People magazine with a, ahem, glow.

You know what, we’re all guilty. Everyone watches for showings. The Oscars was more about the baby bumps than clothes; the awards were a second point—the dresses hardly one. Instead of ogling the jewels or hair, the focus was on what’s sticking ut. I’m still not quite sure what the glow of pregnancy looks like, but I’m sure Hollywood stylists are busy trying to develop a spray-on version.

Then there’s Kate Hudson, who would be an extra if it were not for her Mom. She’s not pregnant but talks about it a lot—meaning the fact she isn’t. And on that note: DId anyone see “Fool’s Gold? Which is the better story?

Lisa Marie Presley. No one cared about her when she was Elvis’ daughter (he’s been dead 21 years) and yet she needed to announce she’s pregnant because a tabloid said it was that or she’s fat! Chubby is sinful when you have no career.

Th one real trendsetter in all this is Ms. Jolie. The Brangelina adopts and even conceives their own – a serious double threat. The J-Pitts traded in their entourage for a FAMTEROUGE (like it?) and have only reached greater heights of notoriety with the brood.

Brava/o!

Ah, yes. The news story. Pregnancy is confirmed with an announcement from a publicist or with a bump premier at a high-end baby store or a home that’s prearranged for baby comings. Here they feign indignation about invasion of privacy. We wonder why they didn’t just shop online!

So while they keep us guessing, coyly wearing flowing frocks while issuing non-denial denials—a thread you Punks hear here all the time—they get the word out, faces on covers, doctor appointments scrutinized like Zapruder. They ensure their careers as celebrities endure regardless of their “work.” And if you’re not sold, ask yourself… Can you name the two movies that J.Lo (”Jennifer”) was in during 2007? How about her TWO released albums? But you know the saga of her twins, doncha. Kinda smart…kinda Punk. Now all she has to do is something artful—or she can keep having kids?

Final analysis is in: Overdoing it is the new black.

We threw Blockbuster into the collective wind years ago, along with The Mighty Morphin Power Rangers and Contempo Casuals. The glory days of Blockbuster are long gone…long, long, long gone. Once upon a time it was actually cool to have a Blockbuster card. That Cookie Monster Blue and Big Bird Yellow…oh, the good old days. Nobody bought movies back then, we rented them. And most of the time we rented them from Blockbuster. (Unless we wanted one of those movies..then we forked it over.) Want a relaxing night at home? You went to Blockbuster. It was a Blockbuster night, ahh.

Now RETURNING the video, that was the hard part. Who could do it on time? And the late fees! More people were in collections over those fees in the 90s than for missed car payments. (Or maybe not, but doesn’t it feel true?)

Of course that was a different time. Today, orphaned by its corporate parent Viacom, those fat late fees a distant dream, Blockbuster has become passé. Want a relaxing night at home? Now you pick up the latest DVD at Target. Or on demand from the cable company. Or if you’re cool (and you know we are), you get it from Netflix.

On one hand, the company caught up. They’ve worked hard, and invested millions, in staying relevant. Their online rental business is arguably better than Netflix’s. They’ve dabbled in digital downloads and streams. But on the other hand… Blockbuster is boring. Over. U-N-C-O-O-L. A Van Damme in a Gyllenhaal world. (Awww, poor Jake. What? Too soon)

While Netflix is on its way to becoming a verb (the holy grail of branding!), Blockbuster is fading away. How many consumers know the significant strides the company has made? And worse, do they care?

Then it happened. This week during Bravo’s Project Runway the little engine that could, did. Mr. Tim Gunn took the designers on one of his wildly entertaining and slightly over the top field trips to SPANDEX WORLD. During the field trip, the designers were introduced to the Divas of the WWE. (By “Divas” they mean incredibly terrifying women who could easily take all of Britney’s bodyguards.) Gunn informed the designers that their challenge was to create outfits for the wonderful women of the WWE – every designers dream.

In order to get a feel for the Diva’s “style” the designers ordered old WWE clips from Blockbuster! Not only was the Blockbuster envelope on the table (glorious blue and yellow ablaze), but the designers even dropped verbal Blockbuster plugs. Go Blockbuster! Blockbuster has a real chance to shed its stagnant image, to move beyond tired commercials (“Rent Over the Hedge on DVD!” Woohoo?), and make an honest connection with their present and past customers.

Blockbuster isn’t a dinosaur struggling to stay alive! Blockbuster gets it now, and gets it better than anyone they’re competing with. Let’s keep it going, buddy! Product placement is all the rage these days, but it is only one step in the giant and winding staircase Blockbuster needs to walk up.

To misquote The Graduate: “I want to say one word to you. Just one word. INTERNET.” Digital distribution is the future, and right now no one, not the Yahoos nor the Studios nor the Bit Torrents of the world have a lock on that business. So why not Blockbuster? They could even could even partner up with Time Warner and put their content on demand. (We totally need to be Blockbuster execs.) This is Blockbuster’s chance to leapfrog NetFlix in the next generation of media.

And what about social networking communities? Lets get (channel Olivia Newton-John here vi-i-i-ral! Currently there is a Blockbuster application on Facebook that has less than 300 subscribers. I know people with more friends on Facebook! (And some of them kind of suck.) This is an easy, efficient, and effective way to reach a huge, relevant, impressionable population. Build an application that allows users to compare movie tastes with friends, order rentals online, and (when possible) download/stream content. This is doable! You’re Blockbuster, you still have the money, the relationships with content creators (Studios, Networks, etc.), to make it happen.

Blockbuster needs to articulate a forward-looking and innovative message that puts the company in the future of entertainment. It just takes some smart PR, a little bit of Punk attitude and stop talking about late fees already, dudes.