Monthly Archives: August 2010

FM Radio: Cell Phones Killed the Radio Star

When Howard Stern left FM radio for satellite, people adapted. When Adam Carolla left FM radio for podcasts, people adapted. When mandatory FM radios were implanted into every cell phone in America, people were forced.

FM radio tuners may become mandatory for all American cell phones if Congress passes a bill this fall.

Okay, it hasn’t happened yet, but Congress may vote on a bill this fall to make it illegal for cell phones to continue to be sold without FM radio capability.

A heated, decades-long feud has stood between American radio broadcasters and the music industry. The two could never agree on the royalties—or lack thereof—paid to artists and labels for songs played over the radio. At no cost, public stations could blast anyone’s tunes over the airwaves because—as broadcasters put it—you can’t buy free publicity.

(Originally published August 30, 2010 on NeonTommy.com.)

Soapbox for the Soul

It isn’t too often that you get invited to hang out in a room teeming with warm, glowing faces and finger-snapping support for five minutes of completely uncensored stage time. The concept of “safe space” comes to mind.

I recently attended the definitive soapbox, an open mic devoted entirely to amateur appreciation, gratuitous introductions, and performance for the soul, not kudos. I met the host when the series lived in San Francisco, when an artist friend of mine would bring me along every few weeks. We’d cheer, laugh, snap and sometimes put our names on the list.

Only once did I take the stage. It was an impromptu romp on the piano, which had been suddenly discovered underneath some papers and a huge honking amplifier. At that point, I had lived in San Francisco for four college years, and none of my friends had ever heard me play the piano. It wasn’t something I got to do very often, and I was moving back to Los Angeles soon. What a great way to say goodbye to that quirky, foggy city.

Fast forward a few years later, and soapbox now lives down south in Long Beach as a bi-monthly event. The host saw that I was local, and he Facebook-invited me, tempting me with the promise of a coffee-shop piano.

I considered this. On average, coffee shop pianos have more than 50% of working keys, at least 25% of which are tuned to a level acceptable by most deaf people. They’re usually used as tabletops, a crime that would make my high school jazz band director’s ears bleed. Coffee shop pianos are almost always upright beasts, and one leg is always shorter than the others. Daring to sit on the wooden bench is like asking for a tailbone fracture. I was sold.

I filed down my acrylics and jumped on the 710 South, eager to yet again meet fresh-faced poets, music lovers and random acts.

An act I’ve done since the pimply 7th grade, it always brings me joy. And since this blog is my one true definitive soapbox on the Web, I would be amiss to not share it here.

Jerry would be proud. And probably drunk.

Why I Am a Journalist. Stet That. Mad Scientist.

Beakman's World promotional photoI grew up wanting to be a mad scientist. With a fervid obsession for spamming Bill Nye’s fanmail address and watching Beakman’s World, it was clear: I would go to the ends of the earth to share strange and unusual wonders with audiences everywhere. And I would always look as if I’d just stuck my finger in an electrical socket.

Facebook Places: A Self-Policing Social Network?

Cheating spouses, drug dealers and truant teenagers beware. Facebook Places is just like tagging your friends… on crack.

If you’ve updated your iPhone Facebook app in the past few days, you may have noticed a glowing halo surrounding a new icon, smack dab in the center of your app home screen. I snagged a screenshot of mine before it disappeared into the permanence of mobile Facebook-dom.

[Cue ominous choral music.]

Okay, fear-mongering aside, we’ve been here before. Facebook rolls out a new service, the ACLU enjoys the public outcry over privacy issues, and after a few weeks, the masses latch onto the new service. And they like it. Dissenters finally figure out how to tweak the updated privacy settings, high schoolers spam the new service with inside jokes, and life goes on. A notable person here or there deletes his or her Facebook account on principle.

(Originally published August 21, 2010 on NeonTommy.com.)

How to Be Obnoxious

Have you ever wanted to be obnoxious but just weren’t sure how? Have you sat at your work desk, drumming your fingers and ruminating over new ways to be slyly annoying, unassumingly egocentric, accidentally more knowledgeable than your friend about what your friend is talking about?

It’s one thing to be the kind of person who uses speakerphone in an elevator or parks a Humvee in a compact space. We get it. Those are obvious, blatant displays of obnoxiousness. But the latent, more subtle forms of pointless disregard for down-to-earth-ness are much, much sneakier. And fucking obnoxious.