Rant and Rave!

Come have a seat on the couch. It's time we had a little talk...

"Mossphorescence" by Timothy Martin

When Obsessions Collide

For years I have been a card-carrying member of the Curbside Shopping Society (or I would be if there was one…). I have often stopped my car – in broad daylight – to collect other folks’ trash. Not only am I a trash-picker but I pride myself on my ability to find items that have lots of life left in them. In the past I have picked up a potting bench (which required borrowing the truck of a very distant acquaintance), a vanity stool with an embroidered seat, used bricks by the car-load when we were building edging for garden beds, misc. boxes of books, table legs, wood for the fireplace, bookcases, an old wicker child’s potty, vintage wooden shipping chests, an Adirondack chair, wooden lawn chairs, an indoor freestanding fireplace (we use it as a chimena), plant stands, misc. gardening items and – my favorite – a clunky wooden model boat that I imagine some father and son making on lazy Sunday afternoons.

I know many of you reading this know the joy and pride in trash-picking. When it is mentioned in casual conversation, someone almost always admits to also being a trash-picker and regales me with tales of their best finds and how they either drove around the block several times before having the guts to pull over or snuck back under cover of darkness to squirrel away with the coveted item.

In New York City they call these “found” items mongo. There are lots of books and a few movies about trash picking/mongo hunting (whatever you want to call it) and of course, the extreme edition of what was called “dumpster diving” in the 1980’s – food reclamation.

I was about to tell you that I had not yet gotten this far in my love for discarded objects – but that would be a lie.

Over the past few years I have become a bit obsessive about gardening and find my mongo picks to be geared much more towards that end – a stack of planks from some knocked down stairs would make a great frame for a raised bed or an old dresser sure would come in handy for keeping garden tools organized in the shed. When you have an obsession, everything in life revolves around it.

As much as I love the thrill of finding that curbside item is as much as I also love growing squash. I just L-O-V-E squash and really don’t have nearly enough room to try all the varieties I would like to grow. To this end, I have to live vicariously, via the internet, seed catalogs and books, on other’s squash growing tales. Amy Goldman’s book TheComplete Squash is a most beautiful coffee table type book that I turn to again and again, marveling at the loveliness of these strange fruits and wondering what they taste like and how big they really get.

My excessive perusal of this book is what allowed me to immediately identify my most recent mongo as an “eatable” (edible, to those of you who don’t like to mess with the English language too much) pumpkin.

I can’t imagine why, in mid-December, someone would just be getting rid of their Halloween pumpkins but there, on the curb, all by themselves stood two of the loveliest pumpkins I’ve seen in a while. It wasn’t even trash day. One was a low, deeply lobed pumpkin in a hue of brown that is indescribable (but instantly recognized by pumpkin lovers everywhere) with just a tinge of blue blush. Beside her was the standard Connecticut field type pumpkin most folks use for jack o’lanterns. Neither was cut, marred, bit, chewed, de-stemmed or in any other way harmed. What in the world…?!

I noticed them immediately but didn’t slow down as I just considered it too “crazy” to stop and trash-pick a pumpkin. But by the time I hit the stop sign at the end of the street I already know I was going around the block to come back for the brown one. I smirked at myself but I truly wondered if this is what clinical compulsion felt like. I drove around the block and came back to her. The next door neighbor was pulling out of her driveway so I pulled over and put my hazards on and pretended like I was looking for something in the car until she drove away. Then I popped the trunk ran around the car, ditched her into the back and got away clean.

At home I gazed at her incredulously. I couldn’t – and still can’t – fathom how this pumpkin was trash. I immediately got Goldman’s book and decided that this 10 pound monster was a cheese pumpkin along the lines of a Musquee de Provence. Goldman rates this pumpkin as one of her favorites for table quality and as a good keeper. In my head I started planning pies, casseroles, soups and sauces, roasted seeds and saved seeds for planting.

But then I thought of that poor field pumpkin sitting on the curb all by herself with no one to love her. I’m not being silly – I actually thought this. I truly considered that Field Pumpkin had every right to a second life as Cheese Pumpkin. I got in the car and went back for her.

This time I wasn’t so lucky and two folks walking their dog caught me in the act of trash picking Field Pumpkin. I am sure they were as baffled by my behavior and I was by the behavior of the person who had the gall to throw away two perfectly good pumpkins. Fortunately, they didn’t want to start a conversation with a pumpkin-o-phile and we all went our separate ways.

At home, I laughed at myself and considered what my husband would think of my behavior. Just a month before I was compelled to go out around 9:00 in the evening to pick up a dead squirrel that I had accidentally run over that morning. I could not stop thinking about it and didn’t feel better until I had gotten him, apologized and buried him properly in my garden. The hubby wasn’t thrilled with that escapade – I couldn’t imagine my pumpkin hoarding being any more of a good thing to him.

Although I was kind of amusing myself with all of this, somewhere there was also this genuine concern for these very sincere feelings for…pumpkins. I could no sooner have left those pumpkins on the curb than let a kitten drown. If I had left them, I would have spent hours thinking about them and, ultimately, would have driven back to get them - or tried to talk the hubby into going to get them. What kind of disease is that?!

I still don’t have an answer, but I have stopped worrying about it quite as much. When the hubby came home, he was as impressed with Cheese Pumpkin as I was. When I told him my tale of woe he admitted that even he would probably have stopped to pick her up – even if it would only have been to bring home to me.

For now, Field Pumpkin awaits her fate as squirrel and bird food and Cheese Pumpkin sits proudly on my counter waiting for her chance to shine, both of them reminding me that humans are full of questionable behavior that can puzzle even ourselves. I am glad mine is basically harmless but I do wonder – what will I do if I come across a Dill’s Atlantic Giant?

PS - Later I'll post on my puree making successes or failures. Anyone who wants me to save them some seeds from the beauty pictured above should email me!

Reading Lists:
Mongo and Trash
All Things Squash

July 2, 2007

As you know, I love to get my news from Yahoo! partly because of the scandalous headlines they use for even mundane articles (I've taken a tip from them today, as a matter of fact) but partly because it keeps me posted without the distraction of having to read the entire NYTimes website.

This morning I came across an article called "Key to a Happy Marriage" which, really doesn't say what the key is but details what most people think is important.

The Pew Charitable Trust survery on marriage and parenting seems to have started out working in my favor (or my marriage's favor, anyway):

"The survey also found that, by a margin of nearly 3-to-1, Americans say the main purpose of marriage is the 'mutual happiness and fulfillment' of adults rather than the "bearing and raising of children."

So, as someone who has made the decision to not have children - and is tired of being asked why I don't have them or when I will be having them - I thought this might be a nice stride in the right direction - even if it stepped just a little to far towards the "selfishness" belief.

But then Barbara Dafoe Whitehead of Rutger's University's National Marriage Project had to step in:

"The popular culture is increasingly oriented to fulfilling the X-rated fantasies and desires of adults," she wrote in a recent report. "Child-rearing values — sacrifice, stability, dependability, maturity — seem stale and musty by comparison."

Woah there Barbara - them's fightin' words. I mean, Jesus Christ woman - is that what all you child-ridden folks think of those of us who have overcome our biological urges? I am NOT not having children so I can have constant kinky sex. Trust me on this one, ok?

In short, I guess this made me feel like not only am I back to having to defend my decision but now I have to reassure all you "breeders" out there that our lives are not so different from yours. Just because we CAN sleep until noon doesn't mean we do (at least not all the time...). Being childless is not akin to being a hedonist.

Ultimately I guess I stand where I always do. In this country we have the ability to make parenthood a choice. If you choose to have them, don't blame me.

- Jess

June 20, 2007

After two years trying to read Umberto Eco's book The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana I have come to the conclusion that if you are not intimately familiar with Italian pop culture in the 1940's this book is lost on you. I made it only 200 pages in the two years and really wanted to like it but it's just not happening. So, with quite a bit of guilt, I have given up.

To try and justify my actions, I've had quite a few dicussions with folks who are backed up on their reading or who are able to give up books they've started and don't like with no qualms whatsoever. I don't get this.

One reader says that he believes the ability to give up on a book you are not enjoying is a sign of maturity. I don't know if that was his way of saying that he felt like time was growing short or if he was just telling me that I needed to grow up, but it is an interesting thought.

Most folks quote me the 50-page Rule. This is the idea that you give any book 50 pages and if it stinks after that (or you are not enjoying it) you stop reading it.

Wow. I don't know if I can do it. I currently have a backlog of books in progress that I really feel I should read (Gone with the Wind - started in 1990, Raintree County - started in 1995, Coming to our Senses - started in 2005.. the list goes on). I don't know what I'll do if I don't have them hanging over my head!

So, my real problem with the 50-page Rule is this: what about books that are more than the average 250 - 300 page mark? I mean, Gone with the Wind is almost 1000 pages - how could 50 pages provide any benchmark of character or plot? Shouldn't I read at least a quarter of it before making that decision?

Anyway, please help me - my obsessive-compulsive side won't let me be. How do you stop reading a book after the commitment has been made?!

- Jess

April 30, 2007

Upon finishing The Road by Cormac McCarthy just as Oprah announced it as her book club book and the Pulitzer Prize announced it as its 2007 winner, I find I either read way too much or am way to cynical to think this book is deserving of either of these honors. I'm not saying it is a BAD book - it is fine - 3 stars at best - a perfectly acceptable novel of sorts. There are, however, several things that the general public (and Oprah and the Pulitzer Prize board) seems to be overlooking about this book.

First of all, its post-apocolypic theme is not new nor is it done especially originally in this book. Let's start in the 1960s with The Journal of Albion Moonlight by Kenneth Patchett which is an incredibly surreal look at a potential post-apocolyptic world, move onto the 70s when Stephen King gave us The Stand (in my opinion this is THE post-apocolypic book that all the others must stand against) and then into the 90s with The Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler which imaginatevly and scarily details the dangers and horrors of a future world gone mad with desperation. Of course, these are the three I could come up with (ie: that I read in the last few years) - I am sure there are dozens.

Secondly, the plot of The Road is incredibly stagnant (if you can even call it a plot). Father and son walk for miles to nowhere specific and try to stay alive. There is no background about what has happened to put them in this situation. There is no foreshadowing about what might happen to them if they continue on their journey. For my money, if I want to read a book about a child who has to walk and walk and walk and walk and walk (you get the idea) I'll re-read What is the What by Dave Eggers about the Lost Boys walking through the deserts of Africa after being forced from their homes in the Sudan (which, by the way, is a fab book that you should read anyway).

Thirdly, the writing style of The Road, while readable, is not engaging. The reader never identifies with either of the characters in a really personal sense and is always watching from afar waiting (and waiting and waiting) to see what is going to happen next.

I can only assume that the pool of books meeting the Pulitzer criteria last year were few. I can't explain Oprah (except she loves herself a good depressing book).

Okay, all of that said, and having spent the time reading it (instead of Lapham Rising by Robert Rosenblatt which is laugh out loud funny despite its rather depressing truths) I'd hate for my observations to go to waste.

I felt the overall point of this book is the degredation of the traditional American ideal of "home." Nearly every house the father and son encounter are of lovely Southern manors that would have been the epitome of Southern hosptiality and charm. Now (in the future of the book) these homes are completely destroyed and create in the child a fear and terror far greater than the one most readers would find the less preferable - sleeping outdoors exposed to the elements, animals, and intruders. This would not seem so important except that the only time there is any real action is when a house comes into the picture. Combined with the father and son constantly battling the cold and the rain, and attempting to keep a life together (the father often trying to tell stories and create small "traditions" for the two of them to share even if it is just saving the can of pork and beans until last since it is the favorite meal) the theme seems even more solidified.

This theme marries well with the sense the reader gets of the futility of parenthood. A great mystery of life is why parents endure the heartache they do for their offspring - from the day they are born parents prepare their children to leave them. The father's somewhat selfish drive to keep his son alive seems counter-intuitive to the biological desire to preserve the self. And yet the father seems fully aware that the naive morality of his child is one of the few things that allows him to maintain any sense of humanity. If the child dies, so does the father - morally, emotionally, physically.

Okay, themes asisde, I do have one major issue with the book. In the edition I read (pre-Oprah, Hardcover First Edition ISBN: 0-307-26543-9) there is either a HUGE editing issue or a rather large contradiction. The first paragraph at the top of page 74 changes from the "They" "He" "The Child" mode (ie: 3rd person) to "Us" "I" (ie: first person). Wow. Who the heck is this "I?" It seems to be the father - where did this come from? Is this a "seek, find, replace" problem? At any rate, despite this, my real complaint is the claim in this paragraph that someone (the father? the child?) doesn't remember any little boys (if you read the book you will understand this stuff) and yet just towards the end of the book the two of them have another conversation specifically about this same, apparently unrememberd, little boy.

Now, either I need a job in an editing department or I am not as good a reader as I had hoped.

Then there is the contraction issue. On behalf of folks who actually follow these things (Lynne Truss types I know you are out there), I must complain about the use and avoidance of the apostrophe in contractions. "Dont" "Wont" Wouldnt" - all fine - okay, maybe it is the style of the writing. But then why "He'd" "It's" "We're"? If I had to pull a meaning out of my butt (like most of my English professors used to do) I'd say McCarthy is trying to symbolize the slow breakdown of education and language in this future world. But frankly, I don't think that's it. If anyone else has any ideas (including you Mr. McCarthy) I'd love to hear them. This is the kind of stuff that keeps me awake at night (I think that part of my brain is broken.)

Finally, the most disappointing thing about The Road by Cormac McCarthy (maybe I should have done this in a David Letterman style Top 10 format) is that the absolute best and most poetic writing is the very last paragraph of the book and it has nothing to do with the rest of the story. What can one say but:

It's okay.

I know.

- Jess

August 22, 2006

So, thanks to a glitch in the hormonal system (you've been warned), I have been up many hours today and have been able to catch up on some of my much neglected news reading. I'm not sure if it's the lack of sleep or if news stories really are just stupid but here are some of my favorite quotes and headlines of the past few day:

From the Star Tribune (Twin Cities) comes a quote from one of the early Jon Benet Ramsey murder suspect articles:

"'It's been a very long 10 years, and I'm just sorry Patsy isn't here for me to hug her neck,' Wood said."

I ask you - am I such a prude that I have been missing out on neck-hugging nearly my whole life? I have asked my partner a few times now if we can engage in such activities but he thinks neck-hugging is best left to chiropractors and professional wrestlers. (Just in case you are wondering, my conspiracy theory on the murder suspect is the subject for another post.)

So then the Star Tribune (Twin Cities) surprised me by coming up with the following headline:

"Photos of hugs and kisses give no hint of death to come"

I had no idea that some photos of hugs and kisses WOULD give a hint of death to come! But even worse than that folks (and this is no fault of the Star Tribune) the artist who took the photos that did NOT foretell death (Bonnie Fournier) has been disqualified from displaying them at the State Fair because they are now inappropriate. The state fair executive vice president, Jerry Hammer, had this to say (according to the Star Tribune) "'We sympathize with the artist because she was unaware the incident would happen when the piece was created.'"

I'm not sure but I think that means that every photo of the World Trade Center should now be considered inappropriate because when they were taken we were "unaware the incident would happen."

I don't even know where to begin.

So back to the stupid stuff.

Yahoo! news posted an article off the AP about a standoff in Texas that included this quote:

"Kim Gladney, 25, who lives in the complex, said she heard 10 shots ring out. 'After the first five, I knew something was wrong,' she said as she stood just beyond the police barricades. 'It just didn't sound good.' "

Now, I don't know if the writer of the article, Steve Quinn, can be blamed for something Kim Gladney said but he certainly must be at fault for thinking it good journalism to include it. Unless of course he saw it as a kind of public service announcement? Like, maybe it is common knowledge that shots 1-4 would just be indicators that all was well in the world and it's the 5th one that is the tip off there is a problem? Maybe my sheltered life has made me ignorant of these types of facts so I guess it's good to know. Thanks, Steve.

Finally there is this headline from (drumroll please) FOX News:

"Sexy Music Lyrics Prompt Teen to Have Sex"

Well, as long as we know it's not TV. The article actually originated from WebMD where it was titled

"Degrading Lyrics Linked to Earlier Sex"

How dull. Funny, tho, that suddenly not ALL sexy music lyrics are prompting teens to have sex, just the degrading ones. Now, the WebMD article originated from the journal Pediatrics where it was titled

"Exposure to Degrading Versus Nondegrading Music Lyrics and Sexual Behavior Among Youth"

Even MORE dull. Kudos to WebMD, though, for not skewing the findings. The study shows,

"Exposure to sexual lyrics was not related to changes in sexual behavior when those lyrics were not sexually degrading."

By the way:

"Examples of nondegrading sexual lyrics from our study include: 'When my eyes open I wanna see your face/Spendin' my days in your sweet embrace/Just one night with you could set me free/I get next to you and I get dizzy, dizzy/You make me think of things to come/I'm dreamin' day and night of making love,' from Ninety-Eight Degrees, 'Dizzy.'

Examples of degrading sexual lyrics include: 'Half the ho's hate me, half them love me/The ones that hate me/Only hate me ‘cause they ain't fucked me/And they say I'm lucky/Do you think I've got time/To fuck all these ho's?' from Ja Rule, 'Livin’ It Up.'" (links mine)

Funny FOXNews didn't think to mention the other article in Pediatrics this month,

"The Relationship Between Watching Professional Wrestling on Television and Engaging in Date Fighting Among High School Students"

- Jess

P.S. - You can now get my blog on Bloglines and even RSS it!

August 1, 2006

Well, hey there! I have lots and lots to catch up on with you - stacks of newspaper clippings to complain about; music reviews from the Mile-High City of Denver and from the re-located Falcon Ridge Folk Festival; and don't even get me started on Michael Pollan's book and high fructose corn syrup - but today there is a much easier target - Lance Bass says "I'm Gay" on the cover of People Magazine.

It is irrelevant that I only saw the front cover of the mag because I was standing in the checkout line at Acme getting my bottled water and Popsicles with all the other heat-o-phobes, or that I would have no idea who Lance Bass is if the cover didn't remind me that he is from the "boy band" N'Sync.

And yet for some reason I feel compelled to respond:

Dear Lance,

I would love to say that I am shocked and impressed by your bold moves - first to protect your lip-synching - oh, I mean N'Sync-ing - bandmates from making a cool couple of million by keeping your gay-ness under wraps (yeah, right) and second by finally proclaiming your homosexuality just in the nick of time to save yourself from being one of those "where are they now" guys - but I can't.

Unfortunately, no one gives a rat's ass. In case you need to be caught up to date, the gay community is here, they're queer, and we're used to it. Particularly in the "entertainment" industry.

I think I might have been impressed had the caption over your image read "I'm a corporate-created, no-talent, tool"

Anyway, I do wish you all the best in your attempts to find a suitable mate (but you might also want to try the more subtle Match.com service over the cover of a national weekly magazine).
Sincerely yours,

- Jess

June 12, 2006

The local Target flyer has the following on sale this week: Virgin (the company) Mobile (as in "phone") Snapper (the product name). To restate, Target is selling a:

Virgin Mobile Snapper

If that's not the most rockin' Father's Day gift ever, I'm not sure what is.

If you don't get the joke, don't worry - it seems their marketing team didn't either.

...or maybe they did?

- Jess

June 10, 2006

I just finished Augusten Burroughs' fifth book (and fourth memoir) and even though the whole James-Frey-A-Million-Little-Pieces-Got-Caught-Lying-to-Oprah thing has had more than its 15 minutes, here I go starting it all up again.

It is hard to say anything bad about someone's memoir (I'm talking bad writing and egotistical promotion aside - see: A Fractured Mind by Robert Oxman). I mean the definition alone (a narrative composed from personal experience) indicates that the book is about what the author REMEMBERS not what may or may not have actually happened. Good lord, my brother and I spend half of our lives fighting about the sequence of events for almost every memory we think we share. And my mother can't solve the arguments! Because that's how memory is.

As Nicky Flippers said in "Hoodwinked" (a really predictable and not very funny animated movie - watch "Wallace & Gromit - The Curse of the Were-Rabbit" instead), "When a tree falls in the forest there are three stories; yours, mine, and the tree's." Ahhh, Nicky - one good line in 81 minutes ain't half bad.

Anyway, all of this Oprah publicity caused Augusten's publisher to panic so much that they removed the words "True Stories" from the front of the book and added the following author's note:

"Some of the events described happened as related; others were expanded and changed. Some of the individuals portrayed are composites of more than one person, and many names and identifying characteristics have been changed as well."

Good Christ - they might as well call it a novel and fire their attorneys. First off, did anyone NOT buy Frey's book because of the hubub? I suspect (and many bestseller lists would support this) that indeed, they simply INCREASED sales. Does anyone remember the old adage, "There's no such thing as bad publicity?" Come on, when the Pope said Catholics shouldn't read The Da Vinci Code you could hear Dan Brown yelling "Ka-Ching!" No - Such- Thing- As- Bad- Publicity. When Osama Bin Laden never turned up and instead the US charged into Iraq under false pretenses the entire world shrugged and said, "Well, the US Administration is lying, but....what are you gonna' do?" No- Such- Thing- As- Bad- Publicity.

But I digress (as usual). What I really want to tell you is how much I enjoyed Possible Side Effects. Burroughs can tell you a story about animal neglect, child abuse, deviancy, addiction, voyeurism, self-loathing, or mental illness and make you think, "What a charming story!" His memoirs are my version of the Chicken Soup for the Soul books. I guess that is a little schendenfreude, but I'm willing to admit it.

Truthfully, though, I think this ability merely speaks to Burroughs' skill as both a writer and an advertising executive. He can spin anything. (Think he'd like to take a shot at the current presidency? Spin it that is, a gay man can't get married let alone run for President. And don't even think about being governor of New Jersey!)

A real standout of the 20 or so vignettes is one titled "Mint Threshold." Burroughs is assigned to the Junior Mints account. The execs are trying to get folks past their "mint threshold" and to encourage the consumer to eat Junior Mints in situations that don't involve buying a movie ticket.(I guess this was before the Seinfeld episode...) Burroughs and his partner come up with a winning campaign in record time but it's back to the drawing board when the execs just don't get it. Pure amuse-mint.

But of course, the story that beats them all (for this book freak) is "Killing John Updike." A friend of Augusten's encourages him to buy first and signed editions of John Updike's books (get yours HERE!)because he must be so old that he could die any day and then his books will be worth double and, therefore, are a great investment. Augusten buys in. His discovery that folks are selling his own first editions of Running with Scissors and others at collectible prices is humble and hilarious.

Part of my real love for this story comes from the fact that I recommend friends and clients buy first editions of Burroughs' first book (and only novel) Sellevision for its future value (and because it is funny as hell). I don't, however (I am sure he will be glad to hear), wish for his timely demise. I am WAY to anxious to hear more stories from his wabi-sabi (if you don't know, look it up) life.

- Jess

Books by Augusten Burroughs:
Sellevision
Running with Scissors
Dry
Magical Thinking
Possible Side Effects

P.S. - Check out The Book Standard's inverview with Burroughs here: The Book Standard

June 9, 2006

Three Little Birds and its subsidiaries and affiliates are fair-trade, shade grown, eco-friendly, grass fed, equal opportunity employer, certified organic, locally gown, sustanible, chemical and pesticide free, sweatshop free, hemp based, free range, kosher, shelter animal adopting businesses.

That's all I have to say about that.

- Jess

May 30, 2006

Yeah, yeah, I know blogs are supposed to be on a daily or weekly or at least consistant basis but get over it - I do have other things to do!

So, I've been contemplating the state of creativity. I recently got a 2006/2007 brochure for The Kimmel Center's "Broadway at the Academy" series. The season's line-up includes Edward Scissorhands (based on the movie), Spam-a-lot (based on the movie), I Can't Stop Loving You (featuring the music of Ray Charles - much like the movie "Ray") and Pippin (which has been around since 1972).

If you subscribe to this season you also have a chance to purchase individual tickets to see The Lion King (based on a movie), Disney Live! (do I need to say anything about this?), The Beatles Experience (based on the music of The Beatles), Annie (also been around since the 1970's and made into a movie), Riverdance (what?!), and Dorothy the Dinosaur's Dance Party (god help me).

The point here (I know you're asking) - when was the last time you saw anything NEW and ORIGINAL? If it's been awhile, rest assured it's not you - it's the money grubbing "non-profit" theater centers that seem to be controlled by Disney! (I dare you to look at the above line up again and disagree.)

Again, I seem to be pleading with you to find original, creative, accessible art and music that is not a corporate excuse to make money. There is a big difference between being inspired by someone else's work and just reguritating the same old thing in different formats.

I can't help thinking again and again of Mike Gold's essay "Towards Proletarian Art" published in the periodical Liberator in 1921. It is a bit depressing to read these lines and realize that eighty-some year's later it seems we are still waiting for the creative revolution:

"When there is singing and music rising in every American street, when in every American factory there is a drama group of the workers, when mechanics paint in their leisure, and farmers write sonnets, the greater art will grow and only then. Only a creative nation understands creation. Only an artist understands art.The method must be the revolutionary method - from the deepest depths upward."

Rise up, dear reader! Rise up and create!

- Jess

P.S. If you are in the Philadelphia area, as I am, check out the The Fringe Festival - great for original works - as well as my favorite local theater company, The Pig Iron Theatre Company.

May 4, 2006

Well here it is, the first entry in what is supposed to be a mostly book related blog. However, I am moved to tears to put this out there because I can not take it anymore.

I have the wonderful opportunity to see The String Cheese Incident at the Red Rocks Ampitheater in Denver, CO this July (I live in NJ) and went online to buy tickets.

Now, several years ago I swore I would never again buy from TicketMaster (or, as I call them, TicketBastard) when their fees were somewhere in the $4.50 range.

But today, oh, today…

Today I decided to check out Live Nation ticketing.

Let me just say that there must be some seriously overpaid executives at this place when they are charging $8.70 PER TICKET – you heard right folks, but it doesn’t stop there – PLUS a $4.60 “order fee” and then want me to PRINT MY OWN F-ING TICKETS!!!! So in order to get 4 tickets I am getting charged an EXTRA $39.40. The ticket price is only $43.50. I could take a whole ‘nother person!

If I buy through TicketMaster I get to pay an extra $41.40 since they are charging an extra $9.20 per ticket plus the $4.60 “order fee.”

Let me tell you, if I had any idea how much you could get paid to hit that reserve button on that computer I would have gotten out of the second hand book business a LOOOOONG time ago.
WTF?

I’m not saying that you can’t and shouldn’t make money on your service, but really!

Fortunately for me, String Cheese has their own ticketing center going on. SCI Ticketing does not have a per ticket charge. Instead there is a flat $20.00 per order fee, plus shipping (which is $7.35 via UPS 2nd Day Air). So that comes to $27.35 per order which is basically HALF of the TicketMaster price. I’m not thrilled with this either – I mean ticket price should mean ticket price - but at least it seems more reasonable in light of the other options.

Now after all of this I of course have to wonder again why it is we are putting scalpers in jail? Please. Fake tickets might be one thing but selling an authentic ticket outside a venue for more than the face value is just a business model.

Please, for the love of GOD – if you are an artist, boycott these greedy bastards! There are lots and lots of alternative venues and festivals out there just drooling to have you come on by. And it’s not so hard to just sell your own tickets, either. If you are a fan – boycott these greedy bastards! You really want to pay this much money to have some drunk fall all over you while you try to get comfortable in an 8”x11” seat?

Really folks, music is for the masses.

- Jess

Second-hand books.

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