Anti-Xmas 2016: A Holiday Screw You, An Orwellian Interview

<From 
Ramen Noodle Nation's 

Movers 'N' Shakers (w/LOVE):

Have An Anti-Christmas...

...And An Anti-New Year>

<"Anarchy Recipe">

<i.>

Every time I visit a retail shop around this time of year, it only takes a second for my vision of Hell to register: Christmas music pumped over the speakers, making me eternally thankful that I don't work here. My chief aversion is "O Holy Night," but not for its religious content, honestly. That aversion started at my last day job, where I heard -- over 'n' over, to the point of Chinese water torture -- some crack-brained parody of  someone garbling the song in a shredded wheat-style falsetto. It was funny the first time -- barely -- at noon. By five o'clock, my eyes and ears felt glazed beyond recognition, having heard my clueless co-workers crank it God knows how many more times. Such experiences put the "nausea" back into "ad nauseum."

That said, why do so many of us feel so ambivalent about Christmas, then? I reckon it's the disconnect between the approved sentiments (birth of Christ, comfort and joy, goodwill toward men, blah-blah-blah) and the reality (crass relatives, food pantry visits, rich jerks bragging about their endless foreign junkets). For me, this season carried an especially bitter sting that dropped in mid-November -- when I got an email from my writing outlets, entitled, "Next Seven Weeks." That heading, as I quickly found out, provided ample reason to say "Oh, crap!"

The email duly informed me that the corporate masters were making immediate budget cuts, so I'd have to skip some meetings, and clear any other ideas in advance. That freeze will lift on Monday, in conjunction with that organization's new fiscal year, but the damage has already been done. Thanks to this sudden email stinkbomb dropping, I've lost about half my monthly income. There's nothing like a big "screw you" before Thanksgiving and Christmas to show you how little you matter in the scheme of things.

And I don't know what pisses me off more -- the lack of notice, the havoc wreaked on my household budget (slender as it is), or all the extra (rmainly, transcription) work I'm doing to staunch any further bleeding. So while I'm not out to dampen anybody else's holiday, I'm not getting caught up in all this artificial, enforced holiday cheer, either. When a financial landmine blows up in your face, "Bah, Humbug!" hardly seems like the ravings of Ebenezer Scrooge -- your favorite elderly, friendless, financially endowed killjoy, and mine. Right now, it seems like the only honest, sane response.

<The Damned: "There Ain't No Sanity Clause."
1980 UK SIngle (Chiswick Records>

<ii.>

The story doesn't end there however. Squawker and I gotten a couple breaks to make the last eight weeks somewhat tolerable. A friend sent us $200 here. I made $195 there for helping track our county's vote results last month.  I'm cranking out transcription files almost every night, which will likely be necessary until February 1 rolls around, when my prospects might finally pick up again. (Remember, as a freelancer, you're typically paid next month for everything that you did last month. Hence, that email should have read: "Next 12 Weeks.")  And I've been pounding the pavement, searching for new opportunities.

Anyhow, last week, I spent half an hour interviewing with a transcription firm that works with the insurance industry. My test results looked good, the recruiter said. Only 2 percent of the initial applicant pool even gets an interview, she confided. (But I didn't feel that "space cadet glow," as Roger Waters calls it. Statements like those are part of the recruiter's repertoire, to make you feel: gosh, maybe I'm one of the Fortunate Few!) We had a cordial conversation, or so it seemed, and hung up. I'd hear something by the end of the week.

Word came last Friday: thanks for your time, but...no. I've no idea why, because -- like so many of these situations -- you never hear the rationale (anymore than I did for the budget axe wielded against my paycheck). All I got was a vaguely worded puff letter whose verbiage would have done George Orwell proud: "Unfortunately we are not able to offer you a position as an independent contractor at this time...Again, thank you for your interest in [NAME WITHHELD] and we wish you much success in your job search."

Huh? Come Again? Say What?

Uh, not to sound like a killjoy, old chaps, but...we have a language disconnect, don't we? An independent contracting position is not a job. They're recognized categories of labor, but they're not created equal, either. Jobs, however poorly they pay nowadays, tend to come with health insurance, 401(k) plans, and paid time off -- items that you rarely (if ever) see in the Gig World. (But if you do, take a photo, and email it to me. I'll keep it next to the flying pig that I just snapped cruising past my window.) Now that I remember it, the recruiter also repeatedly used the J (Job)- word during our interview. Either she really buys her own spiel, or it's another piece of ammo in her ass shining repertoire, I don't know. Take your pick: you're probably right either way.

 In some ways, I'm not upset. Like so many of these outfits, they were demanding a lot. Sign a nondisclosure agreement. Buy a foot pedal and three software programs, just so you could do their piecework. Submit to an annual criminal background check. I'm surprised they didn't ask me to Fedex a urine sample, really!  Of course, they waited until the eleventh hour to drop these little details. But that's not the point, is it?

Crappy as these experiences have been, they've hardened my will to carve a different path that doesn't involve giving away so much power to such outfits. I'm working on a few ideas as we speak; I'll let you know how they end up. The moral here? Whatever business relationships you enter, keep a keen eye, and a clear head. Why feel buddy-buddy with someone who doesn't see (or treat) you as an equal?  So, in that spirit...have a Merry Anti-Christmas, an Anti-New Year...and Bah, Humbug," all the way. -- The Reckoner

Links To Go: Some  Anti-Christmas Faves
(Hurry, Before The Copyright Nazis Yank 'Em Down)

Crass: Merry Crassmass
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CNRVl7LUuI0

Damned: There Ain't No Sanity Clause:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oN8n99BUO-A

Fear: F#ck Christmas Snoopy Video:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TJOFBq7cV5U

Kinks: Father Christmas:(W/Lyrics)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Mgwlxtrfgg

Graham Parker: Christmas Is For Mugs (W/Lyrics):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aexekTNY0_I

UK Subs: Hey Santa:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h8FSXXeDAUI

YIKES! Creative Industrial Complex Craps Out Another Lame "List" Article

<The Book Of Lists (Original Edition, 1977)> 

(https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7118743)

If you're a child of the '70s and '80s, you'll remember when tomes like The Book Of Lists, and its related spinoffs (People's Almanac, anyone?) took the publishing world by storm. Like so many millions of others, I spent countless hours devouring the quirky subject matter of these books. From favorite sex positions, to rogue nations and serial killers, you could get lost on any page -- and, of course, memorize nuggets to give you the sheen of being an expert at something, right?

All the original three volumes are long out of print, though there's bound to be a few floating around on eBay, I imagine. Today's digital era, of course, is a different beast. Fewer people, I suspect, would have the time (or stamina) to slog through the 521-page Book Of Lists, let alone its 529-page sequel, The Book Of Lists 2 (or the truly sprawling People's Alamanc 2, weighing in at 1,416 pages).

Nowadays, we've got something more insidious going on -- the "list" article, which sites like Cracked.com have polished to perfection. But the results are often hit and miss, especially if penned by a representative of the Creative Industrial Complex -- such as a best-selling author, big shot remixer, or cranky blogger for hire -- who often doesn't bother disguising the agenda they're grinding.

Case in point? Today's exhibit ("9 Things NOT To Do With Your Next Song Demo") comes via discmakers.com, the CD/DVD duplication and manufacturing company that now owns the online music store, CD Baby. The overall tone, as one of the commenters (see link below) notes, is "drama-king offensive," such as the first finger-wagging tip against overlong intros: "If every song had 45-second intros, that would be 187 minutes spent waiting for the damn songs to start! Think about it."

As that same commentor retorts: "If it’s that bad, please retire or do something else for a living." The same advice, presumably, applies to tip #4, about putting the artist's name that you're pitchig in the subject line: "The subject line is how the receiver will find a song among so many emails. That’s called common sense." Glad to see that we've cleared up how that big, bad Internet works, eh?

The best part, however, is the total logic implosion that occurs when Tip #2 (don't submit a poorly produced track) collides with Tip #8 (don't overproduce your demo). So, which is it? Are two Dixie cups and a spool of thread sufficient, or should we consider tossing a kitchen sink or two (sonically speaking) into the rough mix?

As commenter Matt McCourt snorts below, "This whole thing reeks of an ADVERT for a book rather any real tips." He then cites some advice from an exec that seems closer to the mark ("kid....it is the song...if it is any good, a boom box recording with you and a guitar will show us that"). Of course, these types of articles are often written in the brain-scrambling "compliment sandwich" style that every hipster loves -- just add a "but" after every other clause, and you, too, can speak the language! (As in: "Hey, kid, I love the song, but....it's sounding a little dated. Can we get a more contempo feel in here?" You get the idea.)

All this bet hedging often plays out over multiple weeks. For example, I've seen many a self-publishing blog that runs a headline like this: "Stop Presses! Print Books Are Dinosaurs! Embrace Your Inner E-Book Warrior!" Come next week, though, you might see a totally opposing banner headline: "Five Reasons Not To Ditch Printed Books Yet."

In the end, I do what jurors probably do when they're confronted with the farce of dueling experts for hire (Defense Expert: "Mr. Jones's toilet training at gunpoint is the primary factor to understanding why he chopped up his entire family."/Prosecution Expert: "Not a single study establishes a correlation between abusive toilet training and mass murder"). With a shrug, I give up trying to figure out who's right, and go with my gut. Works well enough for me.

The main problem with all these insufferable "list" articles -- other than the logic leaps I've cited -- is that they encourage a lot of formulaic thinking, while devaluing the impact of real writing. I remember coming across Elmore Leonard's "10 Rules Of Good Writing" on a literary blog. His first one is: "Never open a book with the weather." To which one of the more perceptive commenters responded: "What about George Orwell's 1984, which starts: 'It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen"? I don't think anybody's asked for their money back yet on that one. 

One of my longtime mates put it best, when I told him about my plans to riff on this topic: "Here's the thing with those types of articles....they make it sound like you can mathematize, or rationalize, what's popular, and that's what they play on. But....at the end of the day....it's the public that decides what flies, or what doesn't." Or, in my case....my gut. Works well enough for me. --The Reckoner

Links To Go (Take With A Barrel Of Salt, Then):

Discmakers Blog:

9 Things NOT To Do With Your Next Song Demo:
http://blog.discmakers.com/2015/07/9-things-not-to-do-with-your-next-song-demo/

The Huffington Post:

An Open Letter To List Articles:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/the-university-of-central-florida-forum/an-open-letter-to-list-articles_b_4268725.html