God bless those Canadians. Also, a very funny but somewhat long article, purportedly by Rick Mercer, follows. It was forwarded to me by a co-worker, and I haven’t been able to find the original source for it immediately.
Continue reading “I should move to Canada”
Trade magazines are the primary documents of what’s going on right now, the bits of information that will become news tomorrow and history ten years from now.
Half the time they’re full of barely-disguised press releases and ads, but often enough there’s real news in them, waiting to reach the mainstream press. Things like Refrigerated and Frozen Foods, and its coverage of Hungry Man Dinners. Sure, that’s a glowing report focused only on Swanson’s upside, but it says to me: American men are killing themselves in record numbers. Heart attacks in the next ten years will not decrease. Obesity epidemic will not, uh, shrink. Or, for example, the very existence of Government Security Magazine, a new publication covering the new industry of homeland security.
I even like the ads, because they aren’t aimed at consumers. You see business in a way that it’s not usually presented to the public, insight into the way things are when you’re not looking.
And there are so many that you can subscribe to: magazines about catalogs, about soft drinks and water, about repossession, pensions, pizza. There’s even a site and magazine about trade magazines and how they work. And the advertising itself tells you what people are trying to sell, who’s buying it, and why.
Once I met a woman who wrote for Beverage World. She was surprised that I had heard of the magazine, and completely bowled over by the fact that I thought it was interesting. I guess, as a technical writer, I have a weird sense of interesting.
My brother’s freshman year in college, he took the train into the city and went to South Street with his roommate. They spent a great afternoon, and all of their money, before getting back to the station and realizing that they had to buy a return ticket. So they put down a baseball cap and started doing a capella techno until they had the three or four dollars for the fare. They decided the band name was “TBA and the Special Guests.” Lesson learned: busking sucks.
Item two: although my writing and editing is determined largely by other people’s constraints, I am not a turd polisher. At least, not as much as someone who gets paid $20 to ghetto-ify the dialogue in someone else’s novel.
Maybe this says more about Nat than he’d like to admit, but I got this email from him a couple weeks back and have neglected to post it. It details the average cost per hour, over two years, of a number of recreational activities. So you can tell how you’re saving money by, say, walking in the park, or masturbating, instead of watching TV or getting drunk.
Continue reading “Bang per Buck Calculations”