So it has been brought to my attention by my leagues of adoring fans that I must be psychotic because it's 2017 and this is a blog, so I don't actually have any fans.
Saying that, writing this provides me some sort of an outlet, a way to express my frustrations, and unlike when I try to record something on video, or something musical, if a mistake happens while writing this, I can go back and edit it easily. Although the incessant barrage of typos are annoying it doesn't require another take, I don't have to take it from the top, and I really don't have to worry about what I say because no one's going to read this anyway.
The idea that I can be so open with my opinions, free to say whatever I want to say about whatever the fuck I want to talk about, should be something that readers admire in the content they seek. In a world where everything is brought to you by something, where content is curated as a way to advertise to you without your brain recognizing it, you would think that the public would lash out against what is being shoved down their proverbial throats. Instead generations of people are content with looking down at their branded handheld devices and choosing sides over whether superior hardware defeats superior software.
Perfectly justified in our roles as consumers where the puppet-masters view us from above as the generic blobs of cells that we are, mouth agape, hungry for whatever meal-deal of the week they are willing to trick us into thinking is worth $9.99. But wait, there's more! To save the perfectly calculated 30% off regular price, you better be willing to provide your first and last name, email, birthdate, address, phone number, internet history, and exact GPS location, so that the overlords can contact you with their next offer. This information guarantees 100% accuracy when they aim their subliminal message weapons at you, loaded with the latest and greatest in art and entertainment, so perfectly done up to look just slightly imperfect, just enough to trick your actual conscious into believing that you stumbled across it naturally. and that you actually like it.
If somehow I've been able to keep your attention this long colour me impressed. Maybe your brain hasn't been melted into moldable, malleable mush advertisers desire quite yet. Being the intelligent reader you are you might be wondering if there's any point to this post, or if there was something that inspired me to pick up the pen (keyboard) and write (type) this. Well you are in luck, the inspiration for this article is that yesterday I regrettably learned that one of my favourite magazines and media outlets, the iconic Rolling Stone, is up for sale to the highest bidder.
Rolling Stone has been a major fixture in the media since the 70's, providing readers who are seeking musically focused entertainment content, potentially biased towards rock among other things, but certainly some of the best free-press journalism available. The magazine is known for many things, and until recently, being proudly independent was one of them.
Much like their unforgettable covers, which are known as a major stepping stone in the media world, equivalent to the prestige of winning an Emmy, Grammy or other academy award. Rolling Stone's identity included providing writers and editors the freedom to speak openly on their subjects, sometimes to comical results (see Led Zepplin album review from the 1970's). Jann Wenner (founder and still publisher of the magazine) is also known as the type of publisher who diligently stands behind his journalists, in fact I was a subscriber at the time of the Virginia Rape Article in 2014 and when the retractions were published I remember thinking how lucky the writer was to have submitted the story to Rolling Stone, certain that the publication would stand behind the intent of their writer, and that although a mistake was made, a lesson could be learned, and it may not spell disaster in the same way it would have had the article been picked up by another outlet.
Now I must confess that when that yearly subscription was up I did not renew, and although issues of the magazine can still be found around my home. maybe I'm the reason for the need to sell. If so, can I say that although funds are tight, Jann, I will gladly spend the cost of a subscription (even full cover price!) to buy-back the independence of one of the best left-wing published works of all time.
Although the need to sell may be obvious (Jann Wenner is now in his 70's hoping to top up his retirement fund, and his son is a young 22 and more focused on video games than music and politics) the idea that the cover of the Rollin' Stone is up for sale is a sad sad truth of the current state of media. I have no doubt that for the right price in the 90's and 00's a savvy publicist may have been able to influence the editors enough to have a face of their choosing peeking out from behind the newsstand, but the face would have to be one the editors were already familiar with, and the picture chosen wouldn't have to be approved by any label. The accompanying article would still have direction the writer intended, and the story would be laced with the candor, blunt-eloquence, and bravado that Rolling Stone cover articles have become so well known for. You see at Rolling Stone artists and media figures are comfortable letting their most rockstar of ego's shine because the writers themselves are usually as egotistical as who they are interviewing.
To think that the purchaser of the publication will probably be one of the same giant media conglomerates responsible for the click-bait articles masquerading as "news". The same soulless and faceless corporations that are laying off writers right and left, rather than trying to re-purpose their talents to the modern world. To see the day where a massive music label's next darling can go from the latest contrived award show beef to the cover of the Rolling Stone without the street credibility that would have been required to make that happen in the 1990's makes me want to hurl. Without the gull to assume that anyone of any sort of influence will ever read this, I implore, no beg of Mr. Wenner to please consider his son's generation, and perhaps his son's son's, when choosing the buyer of his fabled magazine. The difference between the millions of dollars in the bids may same like a lot now, but if you are truly worried that you will go hungry in your old age, be comforted that I will always be willing to drive down to New York and buy you a hotdog at the next rock show at CBGB's... oh wait.
Saying that, writing this provides me some sort of an outlet, a way to express my frustrations, and unlike when I try to record something on video, or something musical, if a mistake happens while writing this, I can go back and edit it easily. Although the incessant barrage of typos are annoying it doesn't require another take, I don't have to take it from the top, and I really don't have to worry about what I say because no one's going to read this anyway.
The idea that I can be so open with my opinions, free to say whatever I want to say about whatever the fuck I want to talk about, should be something that readers admire in the content they seek. In a world where everything is brought to you by something, where content is curated as a way to advertise to you without your brain recognizing it, you would think that the public would lash out against what is being shoved down their proverbial throats. Instead generations of people are content with looking down at their branded handheld devices and choosing sides over whether superior hardware defeats superior software.
Perfectly justified in our roles as consumers where the puppet-masters view us from above as the generic blobs of cells that we are, mouth agape, hungry for whatever meal-deal of the week they are willing to trick us into thinking is worth $9.99. But wait, there's more! To save the perfectly calculated 30% off regular price, you better be willing to provide your first and last name, email, birthdate, address, phone number, internet history, and exact GPS location, so that the overlords can contact you with their next offer. This information guarantees 100% accuracy when they aim their subliminal message weapons at you, loaded with the latest and greatest in art and entertainment, so perfectly done up to look just slightly imperfect, just enough to trick your actual conscious into believing that you stumbled across it naturally. and that you actually like it.
If somehow I've been able to keep your attention this long colour me impressed. Maybe your brain hasn't been melted into moldable, malleable mush advertisers desire quite yet. Being the intelligent reader you are you might be wondering if there's any point to this post, or if there was something that inspired me to pick up the pen (keyboard) and write (type) this. Well you are in luck, the inspiration for this article is that yesterday I regrettably learned that one of my favourite magazines and media outlets, the iconic Rolling Stone, is up for sale to the highest bidder.
Rolling Stone has been a major fixture in the media since the 70's, providing readers who are seeking musically focused entertainment content, potentially biased towards rock among other things, but certainly some of the best free-press journalism available. The magazine is known for many things, and until recently, being proudly independent was one of them.
Much like their unforgettable covers, which are known as a major stepping stone in the media world, equivalent to the prestige of winning an Emmy, Grammy or other academy award. Rolling Stone's identity included providing writers and editors the freedom to speak openly on their subjects, sometimes to comical results (see Led Zepplin album review from the 1970's). Jann Wenner (founder and still publisher of the magazine) is also known as the type of publisher who diligently stands behind his journalists, in fact I was a subscriber at the time of the Virginia Rape Article in 2014 and when the retractions were published I remember thinking how lucky the writer was to have submitted the story to Rolling Stone, certain that the publication would stand behind the intent of their writer, and that although a mistake was made, a lesson could be learned, and it may not spell disaster in the same way it would have had the article been picked up by another outlet.
Now I must confess that when that yearly subscription was up I did not renew, and although issues of the magazine can still be found around my home. maybe I'm the reason for the need to sell. If so, can I say that although funds are tight, Jann, I will gladly spend the cost of a subscription (even full cover price!) to buy-back the independence of one of the best left-wing published works of all time.
Although the need to sell may be obvious (Jann Wenner is now in his 70's hoping to top up his retirement fund, and his son is a young 22 and more focused on video games than music and politics) the idea that the cover of the Rollin' Stone is up for sale is a sad sad truth of the current state of media. I have no doubt that for the right price in the 90's and 00's a savvy publicist may have been able to influence the editors enough to have a face of their choosing peeking out from behind the newsstand, but the face would have to be one the editors were already familiar with, and the picture chosen wouldn't have to be approved by any label. The accompanying article would still have direction the writer intended, and the story would be laced with the candor, blunt-eloquence, and bravado that Rolling Stone cover articles have become so well known for. You see at Rolling Stone artists and media figures are comfortable letting their most rockstar of ego's shine because the writers themselves are usually as egotistical as who they are interviewing.
To think that the purchaser of the publication will probably be one of the same giant media conglomerates responsible for the click-bait articles masquerading as "news". The same soulless and faceless corporations that are laying off writers right and left, rather than trying to re-purpose their talents to the modern world. To see the day where a massive music label's next darling can go from the latest contrived award show beef to the cover of the Rolling Stone without the street credibility that would have been required to make that happen in the 1990's makes me want to hurl. Without the gull to assume that anyone of any sort of influence will ever read this, I implore, no beg of Mr. Wenner to please consider his son's generation, and perhaps his son's son's, when choosing the buyer of his fabled magazine. The difference between the millions of dollars in the bids may same like a lot now, but if you are truly worried that you will go hungry in your old age, be comforted that I will always be willing to drive down to New York and buy you a hotdog at the next rock show at CBGB's... oh wait.
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