Category: Deeds

Make a shirt that says “DEAD MONEY” or “INEXPERIENCED PLAYER” and wear it to Las Vegas.

Make a shirt that says “DISSIDENT PATRIOT” and wear it on an airplane, possibly while going to Vegas.

Make fliers explaining the scientific method for idiots and pass them out. Ideally do this when it’s warm out, at a baseball game, near that guy who passes out the Chick tracts.

Make fliers explaining that Santa does not exist. Pass them out at Downtown Crossing during early December. Fight with parents of small, crying children who suddenly realize that their parents are not perfect, which is I suppose a good lesson to teach one’s children.

Today I feel manic. Can’t concentrate. Chewing gum like mad. Listening to “It’s a Wonderful LIfe” again and again and again. Not the movie. The song that goes “I’m full of bees who died at sea, I’m a bog of poisoned frogs, I’m the dog that ate your birthday cake, it’s a wonderful life.” It’s got this tinny, distant, off-kilter waltz beat, and a broken-record hiss-and-pop in the background, and I think the stereo tracks are just slightly off from each other, so it feels like being face-up in the gutter watching the street spin.

Not good signs. I sense drunkenness in my future, or possibly huddling under the blankets crying, or both.

I’m on hiatus til 1/2/04. See you then.

Now, some people say that you shouldn’t give money to panhandlers, because they’ll probably just spend it on booze and drugs and cigarettes. But then again, I’d probably do the same thing with the money myself.

I was up til 3 last night working. I’m still in my pajamas, and haven’t showered or brushed my teeth. It feels like 2001 or something.

I miss those days sometimes, the all-night excitement, the do-or-die “we need this file now, can you do this?” adventures. And it’s nice, from time to time, to have a night like that. But only occasionally. I can’t imagine how Nat feels, running at full speed all the time for the past… three, six, ten years?

I know he gets tired, but he seems to be invulnerable. Part of the aura of inevitability that creates success, I suppose. He’s an amazing person and I do not envy him his position: he works much, much harder than anyone else I know.

Sticking it to SCO via careful research. Sticking it to the police in Portland with a mobile phone.

Uneventful Thanksgiving, mostly: Wednesday I got to DC, stayed out til three dancing, got to Charlottesville early Thursday with a hangover, went out Friday with Nat and Peach and Joel and Savage.

I met some Charlottesville geek types who had actually heard of my book, which was cool: I was, as they say, “fanboyed” for the first time. Saturday, I saw Master and Commander, which was OK. They did show some relatively accurate moments: bad surgery, someone trying to take a dump in rough seas, and of course rum and lashing, but they skipped the sodomy.

And then, Sunday, the ride. Joel’s friend Will and Will’s father were going up to the Skins game and offered us a ride to the Metro in Vienna. They arrived at our house and we offered them coffee or snacks. Will’s father said, no, I’m havin’ the breakfast of champions, and pulls out a couple Bud Lights. So we drove off, Will (thank god) at the wheel. They had bourbon, soda, beer, wine, and no food. The father said he has his boots on and so they won’t need to buy booze inside the stadium either. He drank three or four bottles of beer and then started to pack a bowl. About five minutes before we get to Vienna he realized he’d forgotten the tickets, so they dropped us off and turn around to go get them– his wife was going to meet them halfway, in Warrenton.

Yeah, it was good to be back in Charlottesville for awhile.

The much-parodied Ethicist column in the NYT magazine is one of the few earnest advice columns not pitched to yesteryear’s frazzled hausfrau. That’s probably why the New Yorker keeps making fun of it– that earnest advice is just so difficult for someone with a more malignant sense of irony.

This week’s column was about a PR agency and whether it’s ethical to allow someone to draft letters for you which you then sign. The Ethicist says it isn’t, and that those letters should be presented as from the PR person or from your company, rather than from you. I wrote in:

Dear Ethicist:
I’m sure you’ll get more than a few letters disagreeing with your recent PR ethics letter. Context is all, but in a business context, hiring a PR person to put words in your mouth is simple delegation of tasks. Hiring a PR firm is hiring someone to do your speaking and letter-writing so you can run your business. Once you’re larger than a one-person shop, you can’t write all your own ads or all your own letters.
The PR person’s job is to write as you and speak as you: to represent you to the public eye. If the CEOs of companies wrote or spoke every word attributed to them, no business would ever get done. When you get a letter from the president of the cable company tellingyou about the exciting new Cable TV offerings, and signed with a signature stamp, the PR and marketing folk have written that letter. When you read a newspaper article about a business transaction, and the executives speak glowingly of other firms, those executives have never spoken those words, and probably have never even seen them before. They have been written and approved by PR and marketing staff. Hiring a PR person to put words in your mouth is merely delegation of the communications tasks that must be performed as part of a business.

Randy the Ethicist replied and said I’m an unethical person. I’m impressed with the fact that he actually responds to messages, and almost honored to receive an insult from him:

Thanks for the interesting note which was, as you suggest, one of manytaking issue with that column. I’m afraid we continue to disagree. That a practice is common does not make it right. I’m sure we can both name many things that happen a lot that we wish did not. Hiring a PR firm to help with corporate communications is legit, takingcredit for someone else’s work is not, and signing your name to a letter or article you didn’t write is simply lying. As I wrote, if your readers understand that you’re merely endorsing the views you’ve put your name to, no problem; but if the ordinary reader is deceived, then you’re out of line.

Out of line indeed. If my PR person writes a letter announcing a new product, and I sign it, that’s not lying. If my PR person writes a letter claiming that my new moisturizer will enlarge my, er, coalition, that’s a lie, and both I and the PR agency I selected are culpable for that deception.

I’ve been out of town at the Gartner ITExpo. In Orlando. Yes, I saw Mickey. Megan spent Saturday at a book expo. Reading list now contains the new Get Your War On, a sociology book called “Sex in the South,” and a style guide for metrosexuals.

My impressions: Orlando is a vast wasteland. I don’t pretend to understand the economics of expos, but I think that, for the people who attend the talks and sessions, there’s a good reason to be there. Some people worked their way through the Novell booth to collect four stickers and get a prize, then seemed to actually be interested in what I had to say once I began saying it. “Oh, I had no idea you could do that with Linux. And here I was just looking for a free umbrella or baseball cap.” Trade show booths still seem to me like a gigantic display of excess capital that could have better been spent on advertising, cold-calling, or new software development. But I guess that’s why I’m a technical writer, not a CEO.

I feel bad for not posting, because it has become apparent to me that I have an actual readership now, outside people I know personally. Not like I’m in the a-list or anything, but I feel like I let people down when I fail to post for three or four days running.

This weekend I put my scooter in the basement for the winter. I put fuel-stabilizer in it so it will run, theoretically, next spring, as long as I keep the battery charged properly.

Before that I spent nearly an hour scootering around Jamaica Plain in the cold and drizzle, trying to find the Boylston Street in JP that isn’t the Boylston Street in the rest of Boston. And I ran into people who knew old friends of mine from school: Orion Kriegman, of Yoism fame, and Jed Stamas, of… well… just fame. I know both from my E-house days in Haverford, although I haven’t seen them since then.

More reviews: Good review of the Kill Bill soundtrack, and a good review of Al Franken’s book, which I find funny and the reviewer found both funny and eye-opening.