David’s Journal

I was kind of glad to hear that the Public Radio International program produced by Chicago’s very own WBEZ— Ira Glass’s “This American Life”— was being adapted to television.

I was a little annoyed, because I always said that I wanted to make a TV version of “This American Life” (I’d call it something else, obviously). But you snooze, you lose. And who better to adapt the concept than Ira Glass himself?

Then, I found out that the program will not be airing on a PBS station, like I probably would have preferred. “This American Life: The TV Show” will be on Showtime. Certainly not ideal for me, since I will never pay for premium cable since it isn’t a very good value, but no matter. I am sure it will come out on DVD eventually, and then I can Netflix it.

But finally…

I was clicking around the Internet, and I found a link back to the Chicago Reader, a paper I no longer read very much since I moved away.

This link took me to a February 3rd column by Reader media critic Michael Miner. In short, the article informed me that during the production of the initial six-episode run of TV episodes, the entire “This American Life” operation, radio and all, will be relocating to New York City.

Why, you might ask?

Miner writes:

Showtime and Killer Films, which will shoot the TV show, are both in New York. “When we were doing the pilot,” Glass told me, “I insisted for a while that everyone come here [Chicago], the editors especially. It turned out to be very expensive, and we wouldn’t be able to get some of the people we wanted.” That spiked any idea he had of fighting for Chicago.

Um, Ira?

There are production companies in Chicago.

There are editors in Chicago.

I was in Chicago for a while, looking for work. At Chicago-based production companies that were downsizing.

Once upon a time, I wanted to be a Chicago-based editor working on something like “This American Life.”

If a Chicago-based institution cannot even hire locally, how can Chicago-based production ever catch on?

Worry not, Chicago radio boosters, for as soon as the initial TV episodes are finished, the radio show will move back to the fourth floor of WBEZ in Chicago.

And somewhere, a future TV producer, director, or editor, living in a nameless Chicago suburb, is beginning to face the reality that he too will have to leave his or her hometown someday.

Northern California is nice this time of year.  I am glad I came here.

The Chicago Tribune reports that the end of the blog may be nigh.

Packing in as many Al- Gore- invented- the- Internet- ha- ha jokes as possible, a Tribune editorial dated February 22 briefly recounts the history of the blog, née web log, née “website with commentary… often insightful, usually irreverent.” Then, it declares:

[W]ill everyone live happily ever after?

You’re forgiven if you cling to the conventional wisdom that blogging, like half-pipe snowboarding, enjoys an unrelievedly rich future. Forgiven, but maybe behind the curve. A new report from Gallup pollsters, “Blog Readership Bogged Down,” cautions that “the growth in the number of U.S. blog readers was somewhere between nil and negative in the past year.”

What the Tribune doesn’t realize is that blogs like this one exist. Even though no one actually reads this or really cares what I have to say, I will still pursue this narcissistic endeavor.

If a blog is written, and there is no one there to read it, does it still exist?

And (for that matter, Tribune Editorial Board) what about declining readership in the print media?

Maybe we should all give up Writing Stuff and just make TV shows. (Oh, wait, that’s supposed to be my day job).

Okay, so there wasn’t really snow in San Anselmo. Snow in San Anselmo is really a song by Van Morrison.

The scene pictured above is actually above San Anselmo. Fifteen hundred feet or so above San Anselmo, to be precise.

Yes, it snowed today in Marin County, but only on Mt. Tamalpais.

(It also snowed at other high elevations in the Bay Area, such as Mt. Hamilton, the Santa Cruz Mountains, higher parts of the Oakland hills, etc.)

Down here, it was simply soggy.

I am not really sure what the article underneath this headline in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel is about, nor do I really care. That isn’t the point.

The point is that this is an incredibly great example of headline-writing.

Reiman Renames, Revamps… does it really matter what Reiman renamed and revamped? The point is that he did it. And a journalist found it newsworthy. And an editor wrote the headline.

Reiman Renames, Revamps.

I aspire to write headlines like this.

In January 2006, people travelled far and wide to visit my humble home on the web. Below, you will find just a select few of the search engine terms that got them here:

Four people sought jeanette aguilar. Hi, Jeanette’s friends!

Three searched for passat. Three more for black vw. Sorry, folks. The one I spoke of is not for sale anymore.

Two people were looking for david nickel ice skater. No ice skaters here. Just a guy named David who only had a nickel so he went to Walgreens and reminisced about his days working at the ice rink.

Two searchers typed in mcdonalds got boycott in india. Another wanted an indian guy who sued mcdonalds for french fries. Somebody else searched for mcdonalds offends indians. And lastly, a potential franchisee (perhaps) wanted to know about problems faced by mc donalds to survive in india. I can tell you one thing: these Indians, vegetarians, researchers, whatever they are— they aren’t going to be shopping at Macy’s or Safeway or Dominick’s anymore after reading what I had to say.

Someone was researching carson pirie scott & co advocate blog. Huh?

An electronics enthusiast cried out to Google: sony cdp 101 sell. This person was disappointed to find out I merely was talking about the first CD player. Same with the person who wanted to know more about sony cdp 101 1982 revolutionary.

Unrepentant Walgreens fans like myself queried their favorite search engine for walgreens logo and walgreens media producer. Sorry, folks. Why not try Walgreens.com?

Nine words: san francisco chronicle even before you extract your cash. Huh?

Fratricide, anyone? how do you get rid of a foster brother.

What? You wanted my journal to be useful? Like life saving product in earthquake journal?

costco mexico sd400? I think you still have to pay sales tax.

david waxman blog. Curiouser. And curiouser.

This is a creative one I just read about in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.

1. Acquire a tow truck legally, preferably from a dead friend.
2. Roam the streets, looking for older, beaten-down cars that are valued at no more than $2,500.
3. Tow ‘em to the scrap yard. Make an easy $200 or so.
4. Don’t get caught by the security camera in the Target parking lot

The guy who did this is not going to be charged with a felony because a legal loophole.

You see, he didn’t commit felony car theft, because in order to do so, you have to drive the car away from the scene. Even if the car is worthless, if you drive it away (somehow), it is felony car theft.

So it is an ordinary theft. But in order for an ordinary theft to be a felony, the item being stolen must be worth more than $2,500.

And try to appraise an established beater that has already been shredded to pieces at a scrap yard that is not legally required to record VIN numbers.

Now that the guy who pulled off this scheme has been caught, he will get charged.

With a single count of misdemeanor theft.

That’s all, folks. 

Today, the WB network (owned by Warner Bros.) and the UPN network (owned by CBS parent Viacom) merged to form the CW.

That apparently stands for CBS-Warner Bros., but who’s asking?

In return for guaranteed network affiliation for a decade, Tribune has relinquished its interest in the whole deal, meaning that the CW is half-owned by Viacom and half-owned by Warner Bros.  In Chicago, WGN will become the new CW.  What does this mean for Fox-owned WPWR?

Certainly not good news.

Meanwhile, Disney finally got around to buying Pixar and now Steve Jobs is the largest shareholder of that Mickey Mouse organization— as well as a board member.

No news on what is to become of that WB frog.

Perhaps he’ll be buried in a building, only to emerge one day in the distant future.

PC World is highlighting The 50 Greatest Gadgets of the Past 50 Years. Number one, of course, is the Sony Walkman (1979), which changed the world. Number two is the iPod (2001), and number ten is the first transitor radio (1954).

These lists always seem to favor more current stuff. Apparently, only 2/50 gadgets came from the 1950’s, while seven come from the past five years.

Some clearly belong, but their ranking is kind of odd. The Motorola StarTAC, #6, 1996, was certainly revolutionary… the first tiny, clamshell cell phone… and the first phone, I learned, to feature a vibrate function. But should it significantly outrank 1983’s first cell phone, Motorola’s brick-like DynaTAC 8000X (#35). True, more people used the StarTAC model, but who here has used the Sony CDP-101 (#5, 1982)?

Didn’t think so. The first Sony CD player cost $900.

Perhaps I am being sensitive, but the first marketable consumer VCR (Betamax of course) is listed fairly low at #29. True, professional videotape came around 21 years earlier, and VHS (didn’t make the list) ultimately killed Betamax. At least the VCR outranked the Snappy (#39)… but the Snappy? Who put that on?

At #19, the Sony VX-1000 revolutionized the digital video industry like no other product, so I am grateful for the acknowledgment. We still use its progeny today… PCA owns two Sony VX-2000s and a pair of VX-2100s.

From my childhood: Nostalgic entries include the Speak & Spell (16), Nintendo’s Game Boy (26), and Milton Bradley’s Simon (38).

“What were they thinking?” items: The Roomba (#31)? That Sony Aibo robot dog (#44)? Perhaps I just don’t find today’s “robots” cool.

What would we do without: The first answering machine (1971, #15). A calculator that can do square roots (1973, #17). The television remote control (1956, #21).

I left the progessive states of Illinois and Wisconsin for California. This was in today’s paper, written before Schwartzenegger’s predictable but unfortunate decision. It sums it up the best, especially since I don’t actually know anything (good or bad) about the guy who is going to be killed tonight.

I think subjective judgments about character are not really relevant in death penalty cases. To believe that they are relevant is to believe that uncharismatic, untalented, surly and/or mentally retarded death row prisoners are not worth saving, while a really cool guy is. Are we saying that it’s OK to kill sneaky little weasel-faced people and not OK to kill handsome, intelligent, well-muscled people? It’s fine to construct a hierarchy of character if one is, say, choosing a mate or a president. It certainly may be more convenient for advocates if they choose a guy who can speak well for himself and has done many useful things. But that’s not the point.

The death penalty is wrong because the state (which is to say: us) should not be involved in killing people, particularly in cold blood. To kill people because they killed people — it doesn’t make any actual sense. A society should be slightly more civilized than its sociopaths. Revenge is an understandable emotion. Greed is an understandable emotion too, but stealing is still not legal. The death penalty does not deter and it does not cure.

—Jon Carroll, San Francisco Chronicle.

I don’t think the purpose of Dreamworks SKG was to eventually sell out to (of all companies) Viacom.

Ah, the inevitability of media consolidation.

Perhaps it is time for me to rethink my vegetarian ways.

The AP reports:

MAYWOOD, IL — An elderly couple remain hospitalized after being pulled from their burning vehicle by a man who used his Thanksgiving dinner to break out the windows.

Yes. It’s true. The heroic rescuer used his 20-pound frozen turkey he had just bought for Thanksgiving.

‘Tis the season.

I was there when the venerable AT&T Broadband name went away and turned into Comcast. Coincidentally, around the same time, the trusty ol’ Ameritech name slowly (and I do mean slowly) morphed into SBC, a lifeless and drab name with a strangely dull logo.

I was happy to hear that SBC was going to rename itself AT&T after it acquired it’s mama bell.

But this is going to be their logo?

The company describes the new logo as “three dimensional… representing the expanding breadth and depth of services that the new AT&T family of companies provides to customers.”

Cool, I thought. A modernization of the classic old AT&T globe.

But then I realized:

The reason why the lines on the old so-called 2D AT&T globe…

…swelled towards the upper left hand side was because the 2D globe was… a globe. As in, not a circle.

Therefore, already three-dimensional.

What offends me about the new logo is that the classic AT&T swell lines have transferred themselves onto the so-called 3D newfangled curvy globe.

Why?

For the record, I do like the new UPS logo, even though many think it is exceedingly swooshy.

But this AT&T thing has gone too far.

I am officially a published photographer.

The headline reads “PCA Finds Stability, Success,” and it was on the very front page of the October 26th Petaluma Argus Courier.

(What the heck is an Argus, you ask? Well…)

You can read the article in it’s original form at the Argus-Courier website. The only part that is about me goes a little something like this:

The board took that $80,000, put $50,000 into reserves and designated the remainder to expand staffing. Lanouette’s newly hired employees include access and education director David Waxman, production director Jason Noel, membership coordinator and office manager Jeanette Aguilar and access assistants Foster Chen and Juan Carlos Rivas.

–
Anyhow, here is the photo as I took it…

Friday morning was One of Those Mornings.

And there is nothing better to do on One of Those Mornings than to stop by the ol’ Golden Creme donut shop in downtown San Rafael, grab a donut and a cup of coffee, and unwind.

Unfortunately, all I had was 25¢ and a bunch of credit cards. And one thin quarter couldn’t even buy a donut. On Lincoln Ave.

Fortunately, 25¢ was enough to rent a parking spot on Lincoln Ave. for a short while, so I fed the meter and proceeded to walk to the friendly neighborhood Walgreens, where I knew I would find an ATM that belongs to my bank. I walked in and got two crisp, unnaturally peach-colored $20s.

Perhaps it was because Walgreens Corporate is located down the street from my in-laws’ office. Perhaps it was because Walgreens Corporate employed my cousin in the late ’80s. Perhaps it was because Walgreens is my hometown drug store, fighting to stave off the likes of CVS, Sav-On/Osco, Longs Drugs.

Actually, it was probably because I have been to a facsimile of an early Walgreens (or outside it, at least) at the Museum of Science and Industry; this somehow created a natural affinity for this monolithic American landscape-carver

But whatever; since a newspaper often goes well with a donut and coffee on One of Those Mornings, I figured I may as well buy it from my friendly neighborhood Walgreens instead of the faceless curbside box.

I picked up a San Francisco Chronicle, and got in line to pay.

The woman in front of me, possibly my age, possibly older or younger, had a mischievous look on her face as she sipped her Arizona Sweet Tea. Her friend, one person in line ahead of her, paid for her item and the tea drinker dropped her opened can of tea on the counter in front of the clerk, and got out her wallet.

The clerk looked awkward behind the counter, like it was his first day. He didn’t quite know what to do with the situation. Clearly, some insolent customer (customer-always-right-customer-always-right-customer-always-) decided to drink her purchase while it was still Walgreens property.

Standing up for a Deerfield, IL-based corporation, as I am prone to do: I thought, Jerk.

The clerk, meanwhile was about to cry. He scanned the item, careful not to spill tea on his clean counter. The vicious premature sweet tea ingestor carefully laid out her dollar bill and her nickel. The grin never left her face. Her power as the always-right customer was undeniable. And she loved every moment of it.

Resignedly, the clerk accepted the cash. His face said it all. Working in retail sucks. Then, in one last-ditch attempt at gaining control of the situation, he said, “I would appreciate it if next time,” he looks her straight in the eye, “you pay before you open your purchase.”

This powerless assertion of authority made the unwieldy customer’s day. “Maybe I will,” she replies, as her ever-present grin turns to a devilish smile of absolute power. “If I feel like it.”

And with that she walks out the power sliding door of the San Rafael Walgreens.

Through my eyes, I try and communicate my empathy to this unfortunate clerk, trapped in an entry-level retail job, forced to deal with such customers. At least you don’t have to wipe down ice skates, I tried to say with my eyes, and then deal with the mothers of eight-year-old figure skaters.

And at least you never watched a four-and-a-half foot tall figure skater approach the lost-and-found bin in your lobby, remove all the scarves, gloves, jackets, etc., scatter them all on the floor, climb into the plastic bin, close the top, and then open the top, wave at passers-by, and then leave the scene with all the contents still scattered— all while you watched helplessly from behind your counter, size 8 skate in hand.

But I failed to communicate all that. Instead, this is what I said without words.

Here is a 43¢ newspaper I am purchasing.

Here is a $20 bill.

Gimme a lot of change, throwing off your drawer, forcing you to call the manager later on and get more singles and fives and tens.

Have a nice day, bitch.

Out loud, I do thank him for his time and efforts at helping me purchase a newspaper. And then, I go off to enjoy my donut.

So a car (Quality People! Quality Products!!) veers off of Highway 101 near Costco (a great place to buy large quantities of stuff for low, low prices!) because the driver passes out due to a medical emergency (buy your insulin from Walgreens!!), and it tumbles a couple of times, gets tangled up in a chainlink fence (CalTrans can buy a new one at Home Depot!), sets off a brush fire (the Novato Fire Department— saving lives one 911 call at a time!), and knocks down a utility pole (PG&E: We Don’t Buy Our Electricity from Enron Anymore).

The driver of the car (have you driven a Ford lately?) is okay. She doesn’t remember the incident (Sutter Health at Marin General Hospital: We’ll save your life, as long as it doesn’t need saving after the earthquake because we’re too cheap to retrofit the hospital since we’re leasing it from the county). But the utility pole (PG&E: We’ll get your power back on by tomorrow. We promise) lands on two other cars (The Ultimate Driving Machine and The Heartbeat of America) and they are crushed (San Anselmo Auto Body: We’ll Fix Your Car In Three Months or More).

The Marin Independent Journal (Local Journalism Rocks!) reports on this story. And this is what they had to say:

“When Catherine Fahey stopped at a Novato bank yesterday to cash her paycheck, she paused to ask a teller about a deal advertised in the lobby: a nine-month certificate of deposit with a 3.75-percent rate of return.”

Wow. Get me to that bank (Washington Mutual, by the way) on the double!

I’ll just remember to park far away from any PG&E utility poles.

Everyone has their issue— a cause dear to them, for which they are willing to go great lengths to let others know about.

Personally, my causes are (in no particular order): disability rights, community media, progressivism, not damaging one’s own automobile paint job with adhesive.

Today, while shopping at Andronico’s Market, I walked past a car whose owner evidently advocates for infant male reproductive rights.

(I finally acquired my digital camera, specifically to aid me in posts like this, but alas, this one time, I left it at home. Figures.)

He (He? She? Probably ‘He’) plastered the rear of his Honda with at least half a dozen bumper stickers, including (of course):

(this example located thanks to the magic of Google)

L’shana tova etc.

They say that the sort of brand loyalty that used to exist exists no more. Obviously, this directly impacts the whole idea of marketing towards youth to create customers for life.

When I was an omnivorous youth, when faced with the question: McDonalds or Burger King, I would invariably choose McDonalds. I liked Quarter Pounders with Cheese. And Fries, of course. Even when I became a vegetarian, I would continue to visit McDonalds. McDonalds had McFlurries. McDonalds test-marketed really bad pizza in Carbondale in 1998. McDonalds would gladly make me a cheeseburger— hold the meat.

But two things happened. First, the vegetarians and the Indians sued McDonalds because they secretly put beef extract in their french fries and their chicken nuggets (but not in India, it was later revealed. Phew). Yes, McDonalds eventually got rid of the beef extract, even here, but the damage was done. Then, Burger King came out with a Veggie Burger. Now, I am a Burger King person. Besides, they do (after all) have good fries (vegetarian, even). Who needs beef?

I also used to be an unapologetic Dominick’s shopper, back when I lived in the Chicago area. When Safeway bought them out and screwed it up, I switched to Jewel. The trauma inflicted by Safeway damaging my childhood grocery chain resulted in a virtual boycott of an actual Safeway now that I live in California.

Now what?

The department store chain of my youth will be no more, effective next fall. After ingesting department store chain after department store chain, Federated Department Stores, the newest owners of the former Target brand, have decided that the Marshall Field’s name will be canned. According to someone who lives in Cincinnati but would probably rather live on Manhattan Island, “carefully researched customer preferences” have revealed that Frango mints should come from the people who bring us some parade in New York City. After all, who doesn’t dream of going to State Street to look at the Macy’s Windows before going inside to warm up and eat a nice meal beneath a massive Macy’s tree in the Macy’s Walnut Room?

“No miracle on State Street,” opines the Chicago Tribune.

“As everyone else before me has said, Macy’s is New York, Chicago is Marshall Fields!” rants someone on the Tribune’s message board.

In an unscientific poll, the Tribune reveals that over 90% of people who like to take unscientific Tribune polls would not shop at a Field’s-turned-Macy’s. And in fact, the Tribune’s coverage of this story has immediately zoomed to the top of the most-emailed stories in the last 24 hours.

At least, according to Mayor Daley, the production of those Macy’s Frango Mints may come back to State Street, after Target catapulted their production to Pennsylvania. After all, who would buy a Macy’s Mint that isn’t even made in Chicago? (I wonder if, this time next year, I can go to the Macy’s in San Rafael and buy a box of Frangos. Not likely, I’m sure.)

Anyhow, if I lived in Chicago, I guess I would be going to Carson Pirie Scott now. After all, part of my first date with Susie involved a walk through their State Street location. And I guess I won’t be going to Macy’s for clothes, now that I live in California (and obviously, when one thinks Macy’s, they think Northgate Mall, San Rafael, CA, USA).

I’ll go Kohl’s, thank you very much. One of the first California locations for the Menomonee Falls, Wisconsin-based chain happens to be located in Petaluma.

But meanwhile, I worry. I have always been a Coke drinker. What could possibly happen that would switch me to (god-forbid) Pepsi??!

Flower Power II,
originally uploaded by waxman.

I joined Flickr in December because it sounded cool. The only problem: I didn’t have a digital camera, so it was largely pointless. I borrowed my dad’s camera, and took a picture of my new wife and my new parrot. And that was that.

Nine months later, I finally got my new camera. And now, in addition to torturing the world with my musings in standard blog form, I can document the world with photos and share them with random strangers who are bored at work.

Welcome to 2003.