Hurry Up, I Need to Cook some Crystal Meth!

Since methamphetamine has become the new crack in terms of law enforcement's freaking out about the situation, the sale of pseudophedrine has become highly restricted. In purchasing some Sudafed yesterday, I was required not only to produce a photo ID but to swipe my photo ID through the card reader at the counter so I was on record as having purchased this dangerous substance.

This served to deepen the distrust of government that has been bubbling inside me recently. I don't know if I am anywhere near to officially describing myself as a Libertarian. but I feel a lot more in common with Libertarians than most Americans at this point. I am extremely frustrated at how Americans, even in the Live Free or Die state of New Hampshire, are so willing to accept increasing government surveillance and intervention in their lives. They receive in return the security blanket of imagining that the government is doing all it can to prevent terrorism, but the bottom line is that we are becoming a country much like our former enemy, the Soviet Union. The National ID program smacks of the old Soviet line "Papers, please." The oft-voiced argument "If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear," as well as the chorus of right-wing apparatchik's who are willing to defend the President and the government regardless of their actions, reminds me of the environment of fear that pervaded the Soviet Union, where one was afraid to voice any opinion out of fear of who might be listening. The interesting thing about the United States is that, unlike the grey Soviet Union or Orwell's 1984, we have managed to keep all the trappings of a successful society while signing away our rights. As long as one can still buy a Lexus or watch American Idol, it appears that the majority of Americans truly don't care about their individual rights.

I find this extremely ironic since I am not a born American, and I come from a country where people implicitly trust the government in a way that Americans never will. Perhaps the legal immigrants who come to America from other countries where freedom and liberty are very rare and thus very precious, will infuse our democratic discourse with a little more liberty and a little less security.

I suck at being sick

There are people that I know who can handle being sick with a certain dignity and aplomb. Even though they are highly infected and feel miserable and want to go to bed, they outwardly convey a control over themselves that does not immediately indicate their health status.

I unfortunately am not one of those people. When I feel sick, I feel flat out completely miserable. I revert to being a four-year-old. I don't want to do anything that requires a modicum of physical or mental energy. I want to go to bed and I want some kind female to take pity on me and nurse me.

I am currently fighting the irony of a cold in June, and am working in spurts depending on when I'm due to take my next dose of cold medication. When the medication kicks in I have a certain amount of energy that helps me feel somewhat normal, until it begins to wear off and I go downhill. I am drinking water and juice by the gallon and running to the bathroom every five minutes.

My third Apple iPod photo in a year arrived yesterday from halfway around the world in Taiwan. I am hoping that the disk mechanism manages to survive more than six months this time around. Because I recently installed a fresh Windows installation on my PC, and had been meaning to get around to creating an exact backup of my music library so that I could hotsync my iPod, I am now manually restoring my library of 4000 songs back to my iPod.

I decided that I had better start putting my money where my mouth was regarding certain causes I support, and to that end purchased a Free The West Memphis Three t-shirt to support the WM3 legal defense fund. For a more in-depth examination of the story of the West Memphis Three, I recommend the Wikipedia page about them. My next steps will be joining the Electronic Frontier Foundation, and finally putting my citizenship efforts into high gear so that I can join the political process and attempt to effect some change.

Like a villian in a Hollywood blockbuster, the rain is back with a vengeance. A weather system is stalled over us, rain has been coming down for over a week, and allegedly it will end Monday.

The Problem with Music

Statistics from the Steve Albini article which details exactly why I hate the music industry so much:

Advance: $250,000
Manager's cut: $37,500
Legal fees: $10,000

Recording Budget: $150,000
Producer's advance: $50,000
Studio fee: $52,500
Drum, Amp, Mic and Phase "Doctors": $3,000
Recording tape: $8,000
Equipment rental: $5,000
Cartage and Transportation: $5,000
Lodgings while in studio: $10,000
Catering: $3,000
Mastering: $10,000
Tape copies, reference CDs, shipping tapes, misc expenses: $2,000

Video budget: $30,000
Cameras: $8,000
Crew: $5,000
Processing and transfers: $3,000
Offline: $2,000
Online editing: $3,000
Catering: $1,000
Stage and construction: $3,000
Copies, couriers, transportation: $2,000
Director's fee: $3,000

Album Artwork: $5,000
Promotional photo shoot and duplication: $2,000

Band fund: $15,000
New fancy professional drum kit: $5,000
New fancy professional guitars (2): $3,000
New fancy professional guitar amp rigs (2): $4,000
New fancy potato-shaped bass guitar: $1,000
New fancy rack of lights bass amp: $1,000
Rehearsal space rental: $500
Big blowout party for their friends: $500

Tour expense (5 weeks): $50,875
Bus: $25,000 Crew (3): $7,500
Food and per diems: $7,875
Fuel: $3,000
Consumable supplies: $3,500
Wardrobe: $1,000
Promotion: $3,000

Tour gross income: $50,000
Agent's cut: $7,500
Manager's cut: $7,500

Merchandising advance: $20,000
Manager's cut: $3,000
Lawyer's fee: $1,000

Publishing advance: $20,000
Manager's cut: $3,000
Lawyer's fee: $1,000

Record sales: 250,000 @ $12 = $3,000,000 gross retail revenue Royalty (13% of 90% of retail): $351,000
Less advance: $250,000
Producer's points: (3% less $50,000 advance) $40,000
Promotional budget: $25,000
Recoupable buyout from previous label: $50,000 Net royalty: (-$14,000)

Record company income:
Record wholesale price $6.50 x 250,000 = $1,625,000 gross income
Artist Royalties: $351,000
Deficit from royalties: $14,000
Manufacturing, packaging and distribution @ $2.20 per record: $550,000
Gross profit: $710,000

The Balance Sheet: This is how much each player got paid at the end of the game.

Record company: $710,000
Producer: $90,000
Manager: $51,000
Studio: $52,500
Previous label: $50,000
Agent: $7,500
Lawyer: $12,000
Band member net income each: $4,031.25

"We Can't Make it Here"
by James McMurtry

There's a Vietnam Vet with a cardboard sign
Sitting there by the left turn line
Flag on his wheelchair flapping in the breeze
One leg missing and both hands free
No one's paying much mind to him
The V.A. budget's just stretched so thin
And now there's more coming back from the Mideast war
We can't make it here anymore

That big ol' building was the textile mill that fed our kids and it paid our bills
But they turned us out and they closed the doors
We can't make it here anymore

See those pallets piled up on the loading dock
They're just gonna sit there 'til they rot
'Cause there's nothing to ship, nothing to pack
Just busted concrete and rusted tracks
Empty storefronts around the square
There's a needle in the gutter and glass everywhere
You don't come down here unless you're looking to score
We can't make it here anymore

The bar's still open but man it's slow
The tip jar's light and the register's low
The bartender don't have much to say
The regular crowd gets thinner each day
Some have maxed out all their credit cards
Some are working two jobs and living in cars
Minimum wage won't pay for a roof, won't pay for a drink
If you gotta have proof just try it yourself Mr. CEO
See how far $5.15 an hour will go
Take a part time job at one your stores
Bet you can't make it here anymore

There's a high school girl with a bourgeois dream
Just like the pictures in the magazine
She found on the floor of the laundromat
A woman with kids can forget all that
If she comes up pregnant what'll she do
Forget the career, forget about school
Can she live on faith? Live on hope?
High on Jesus or hooked on dope
When it's way too late to just say no
You can't make it here anymore

Now I'm stocking shirts in the Wal-Mart store
Just like the ones we made before
'Cept this one came from Singapore
I guess we can't make it here anymore

Should I hate a people for the shade of their skin
Or the shape of their eyes or the shape I'm in
Should I hate 'em for having our jobs today
No I hate the men sent the jobs away
I can see them all now, they haunt my dreams
All lily white and squeaky clean
They've never known want, they'll never know need
Their shit don't stink and their kids won't bleed
Their kids won't bleed in their damn little war
And we can't make it here anymore

Will work for food will die for oil
Will kill for power and to us the spoils
The billionaires get to pay less tax
The working poor get to fall through the cracks
So let 'em eat jellybeans let 'em eat cake
Let 'em eat shit, whatever it takes
They can join the Air Force, or join the Corps
If they can't make it here anymore

So that's how it is, that's what we got
If the president wants to admit it or not
You can read it in the paper, read it on the wall
Hear it on the wind if you're listening at all
Get out of that limo, look us in the eye
Call us on the cell phone tell us all why

In Dayton Ohio or Portland Maine
Or a cotton gin out on the great high plains
That's done closed down along with the school
And the hospital and the swimming pool
Dust devils dance in the noonday heat
There's rats in the alley and trash in the street
Gang graffiti on a boxcar door
We can't make it here anymore

Professional gaming comes to TV

Ars Technica is reporting that the “Major League Gaming” errr – “league” has inked a deal with the USA Television network. Apparently the shows will involve seven one hour unscripted episodes. According to the market-ese of the founder of MLG,

"Video games already have a spectator factor -- when someone is playing in their living room, others tend to gravitate toward the television to watch the action and cheer or heckle the player," says Sundance DiGiovanni, the cofounder of MLG. "We are using commentators and telestrators to explain strategies and key moves, and to give the feel of any other sporting broadcast."

While my oodles of money spent on gaming would seem to validate the ridiculously named Sundance DiGiovanni’s assertion of the potential appeal of watching people game, I differ from him in two key areas.

First, whenever someone else is gaming, I want to grab the controller out of their hands and start playing myself, not watch their supposed artistry. Perhaps this is a by product of too many years waiting my turn either at the arcade or at the console. I think I am also the type of person to say “I would rather be playing sports than watching them,” my ponderous girth notwithstanding.

Secondly, the statement that video gaming is a sport is a ridiculous assertion that needs to be quashed before too many people begin to hear it. Holding up ESPN’s coverage of the “World Poker Championships” as validation that people like to watch games being played regardless of their athletic content is a non-starter for me. I don’t think ESPN should be showing the “World Poker Championships.” I think golf barely qualifies as a sport. I think synchronized swimming is ridiculous. When I think “sports,” I think hockey, football, basketball, soccer, baseball – activities that require a combination of physical exertion, mental strategy, and team-work to achieve their results. I don’t think any form of PC or console gaming would qualify in the physical exertion category unless the participants were required to run across fields chasing their consoles.

I will try to sleep at night and process the concept that at a near point in the future their may be more network coverage of gaming than hockey, and resist the temptation to move back to Canada.

I finally got to cash in a Christmas gift that has been sitting around gathering dust. I was given a gift certificate for a one-hour massage, and last Saturday my appointment for my massage came due. On a grey rainy morning I went to this little office tucked away in the corner of a retail plaza in Bedford. My massage person (I can’t use the word ‘masseuse’) and I were the only folks in the whole office. After an hour of deep-muscle massage and joint work, I felt five pounds lighter and like a million bucks. I now have no question in my mind why people are willing to pay the prices they do for professional massages, as they are totally worth the cost. I am going to go back in a couple months and hope to go regularly from that point forward.

Just don’t ask me to get a pedicure.