My Soft Rock iTunes Playlist

A short blog post here to self-flatulate myself on a Soft Rock iTunes playlist that I recently created. I created this playlist for several reasons, which I'll outline below:

1) Soft rock is highly undervalued in the modern framework of "mainstream" music. Somehow, as mainstream tastes have shifted in the past 15 years or so, it's become a requirement that all music - even terrible pop stuff like the feces set to music by Taylor Swift or Carrie Underwood - has to be "edgy". Even if the sum product of the artistic effort contains no meaning, musical ingenuity, or vocal talent, there has to be some sort of attempt at expressing a high-intensity emotion.

Soft rock, which I'm not even going to define (as was once said about pornography, you don't need to define it because you know what it is when you see it), almost never possesses an emotional "edge" at all - and even the soft rock which is actually good is marginalized to old-person radio stations as a function of this.

Lots of music that we derisively label as "soft rock" in 2010 was created by some very talented singer-songwriters and rock music groups - groups that were once considered part of the mainstream. Individuals like Paul Simon, Cat Stevens, Elton John, Bruce Hornsby and Boz Scaggs, as well as mainstream rock bands like Crosby, Stills, & Nash, Foreigner, and America, are these days most often heard on radio stations designed for your dentist's waiting room/office cubicles occupied by 56-year-old accounts payable managers.

Why? In my measured opinion, because they're not "cool" enough. I don't mean to knock the ways in which we label music as cool, because in general this is a very accurate long-term process of self-selection. (For instance, we realize now that Led Zeppelin is much cooler than Michael McDonald. If I were the program manager at a large-city classic rock station and I needed ratings, I'm going to fire up the Zepp and play the dulcet tones of Mikey McD, if I play him at all, early on Sunday mornings.)

2) Point #1 doesn't mean that soft rock isn't good. Now, much soft rock isn't that good. (In the soft rock playlist that follows, you won't see anything from Wham! or Celine Dion or anything.) But most people who listen to music do it for a combination of two reasons - they like the music itself, and they like what the music tells them about themselves. It's the second reason that often gets in the way of people understanding that soft rock is often valid.

3) Soft rock tells us something meaningful about ourselves, it's just we often don't want to hear it. Like all forms of art, music helps us understand things - most importantly, ourselves in relation to the world. For instance, if I'm driving in my car and I get cut off by some asshole, I'm going to put on Metallica or something, most likely. I think that I do this because Metallica matches my mood (which is anger), and it also helps me understand (in a weird way) that I am still validly a man.

Soft rock kinda serves the opposite purpose - it's searching, smooth, and often addresses silly topics like love and introspection. Most people - especially dudes - are uncomfortable with this form of musical expression (even though they likely secretly listen to it when they're alone, at least sometimes). I'm sorry; I'm just not that uncomfortable with it, and when you become comfortable with it, you become more willing to accept the fact that at least some soft rock is good music, for all the reasons that music can be good.

And now, on to the list... I'm half-impressed with myself and half embarrassed for putting this together. OK, so maybe it's 20% impressed and 80% embarrassed. But still, I'm posting this on the Internet.

Notes on this list:

• Very important: These songs DO NOT REPRESENT THE WHOLE SPECTRUM OF MUSIC THAT I ENJOY. I also have every Metallica CD ever - even the bad ones like "St. Anger" - on my iPod.
• Songs that I've included unironically are indicated with an asterisk *. (Translation: If you see the cute little star next to the song title, that means that I genuinely like the song. Otherwise, assume that I'm including the song either because I think it fits sonically or because I'm trying to be corny.)
• Comment and make fun of me all you want - but, if making fun of me, also include in your comment an accurate estimate of how many of the 20 songs you actually like. (With few exceptions, I know it's greater than zero.)

1. "Lido Shuffle" - Boz Scaggs*
2. "Sister Golden Hair" - America*
3. "The Way It Is" - Bruce Hornsby & The Range*
4. "Walk of Life" - Dire Straits*
5. "The King of Wishful Thinking" - Go West
6. "Things Can Only Get Better" - Howard Jones*
7. "Power of Love" - Huey Lewis & The News
8. "Your Love" - The Outfield*
9. "Higher Love" - Steve Winwood
10. "St. Elmo's Fire" - John Parr
11. "I Wish it Would Rain Down" - Phil Collins
12. "To Be With You" - Mr. Big*
13. "Graceland" - Paul Simon*
14. "Walking in Memphis" - Marc Cohn*
15. "Another Day in Paradise" - Phil Collins*
16. "In Too Deep" - Genesis
17. "Mandolin Rain" - Bruce Hornsby & The Range*
18. "Waiting for a Girl Like You" - Foreigner*
19. "I Can't Fight This Feeling" - REO Speedwagon*
20. "What a Fool Believes" - The Doobie Brothers

Enjoy...

The Nine New Jerseys

Shortly after I returned home to New Jersey last spring, the low-brow reality TV network MTV released an extremely low-brow reality show named "Jersey Shore." On "Jersey Shore", I'm assuming, a handful of Italian-American kids (mostly from Staten Island, NY) invade a beach house in Seaside Heights, NJ for a summer, go clubbing, get into trouble, engage in a bunch of in-fighting and drama, treat themselves and others with complete disrespect, and do a reasonably good job of setting the legitimate Italian-American culture backwards a decent 15 to 20 years.

I say "I'm assuming" in the paragraph above because I've never seen "Jersey Shore," and I don't really want to. I don't even have to watch the show in order to write the above paragraph -- all I had to do was read a half-dozen articles on the Internet to figure out something I already should have known. Most of the native New Jersey-ans I've spoken with about "Jersey Shore" find the show nauseating, but everyone agrees that the show is not untrue.

This is why I think "Jersey Shore" is destined to fail. It's reality TV that is too real. These people don't have the mystique of a real Guido - say, for instance, the "Dapper Don", John Gotti - because they aren't that interesting. They're the type of obviously narcissistic, attention-grabbing idiots who succeed only in that you look at them a bit longer than usual when you see them at the bar.

But I mentioned something else in the first paragraph of this post that I want to return to - these reality TV show characters are not from New Jersey. They represent a distinct, but very limited sub-culture who sometimes visits New Jersey, and as a result, misinformed people from all over the country now think this is who New Jerseyans, by and large, actually are. This is completely incorrect, and in this blog post I intend to explain to you exactly what I think New Jersey is.

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How am I qualified to do this? Well, I was born some place else. I moved here at the age of nine (ironically, there are Nine New Jerseys, as you'll see) and moved to a relatively typical New Jersey town (an example of the Second New Jersey). 

I went to high school there, and then I went to the New Jersey state school (Rutgers University). RU was a melting pot of the Nine New Jerseys, and I learned a bunch about all of them. Then I worked for a year in the Fourth New Jersey (you'll see).

Then I moved away, to Massachusetts, a place known for its own unique brand of douchebag provincialism (i.e., the "Masshole"). After a couple of years experiencing that, I moved home.

So, to meekly paraphrase Johnny Cash, I know a whole lot about a few places, I know a little about a bunch of different places, and I don't give a damn about anything else. That's why, maybe, I am qualified to explain to you what the Nine New Jerseys are.

Let's get started....

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The First New Jersey - Oil Refinery Country

If you've ever flown into Newark Airport, you know this part of New Jersey. If the only part of New Jersey you've ever seen is the 10 mile radius surrounding Newark Airport, this is all you think New Jersey is.

The good news is, you're wrong about New Jersey. (The bad news is, I may not be able to convince you that the rest of New Jersey is any better, but I'm at least going to try. Honestly, this blog post could be a non-fiction book - but I'm not talented enough nor devoted enough to my hobby to make this happen. Good for all of us.)

There are a bunch of oil refineries in a very tight cluster around Linden and Elizabeth, NJ. This makes Linden and Elizabeth not the most fantastic places to live (although these are actually surprisingly live-able towns - wait until you hit the Ninth Circle of New Jersey to experience places that aren't live-able).

These oil refineries pollute the air (probably) and make driving on the NJ Turnpike between Exits 12 and 13 extremely smelly (definitely). However, they supply hundreds of high-skilled jobs to the state and thousands of middle-class jobs, as well. They also help drive the cheap price of gasoline in the state. Even though New Jerseyans have to let someone else pump their gas (and these gas pump attendants have to get paid by somebody), we routinely enjoy some of the lowest fuel prices in the nation. (*NOTE: In case you were curious, other places with really cheap fuel include Oklahoma and western Texas. The highest fuel is traditionally in Alaska, Hawaii, and parts of California. The more you know...)

 The Second New Jersey - "Jersey Shore" (North)

For purposes of separation, here I'll describe the "northern" part of the Jersey Shore (which is actually in the central part of the state, encompassing Monmouth and northern Ocean counties). 

This is where I grew up, and it's hard for me to be impartial about this part of the state. I'll be honest - this area is pretty damned awesome. There's an excellent demographic mixture of people, there are arts, fine dining, and a considerable amount of high culture - but it's an area that also identifies with working-class guts and toughness and anything else that Bruce Springsteen wrote about between 1973 and 1978.

There is lots of beach, and for three months out of the year, it's warm enough to actually get a suntan there. Most the immediate beachfront area is pretty expensive to live in, but there are still a few free beaches (and even more that will let you in on a Saturday for less than 7-10 bucks). There are lots of bars and clubs in the area; some notable ones are as follows:

• Dublin House in Red Bank - easily my favorite Irish pub in New Jersey. The only bar I've ever been asked to leave (in my defense, we were very drunk and very much in the wrong, and I'll leave it at that), and they still let me in. Thanks for not blacklisting me!
• Ashes in Red Bank - great place to smoke a cigar and drink Scotch. Gets a little too crowded and town-y sometimes, but still one of my favorite places.
• Jenkinson's in Pt. Pleasant Beach - great Jersey Shore cover bands, somehow seems less douche-y than the other places in that area. I've had a few really really good nights there.
• Bar A in The Town That Was Re-Districted to Only Include Bar A - I don't even like Bar A, but I need to tell this story. It used to be that Bar A was located in the town of Belmar, NJ. But Belmar is kind of a nice town, and Bar A is prone to such routine acts of legal/moral/sexual depravity that at some point around 2005, the Belmar town council got together and said, "Wait, we can't have this place advertised as being in our town anymore. Let's create a new little sub-town, put Bar A there, and all our public urination/drunkenness/God knows what else problems will be solved!" Thus, Bar A is now in Lake Como, New Jersey, population: Bar A.

I'm too young to remember the horror stories from the '70s and '80s about syringes and condoms and all kinds of filth washing up on the Jersey Shore. I do feel that in the last ten years are so, the ocean's become a lot cleaner, for whatever reason. Regardless, of all the places I've ever lived, the Second New Jersey is my home, and if I ever become famous in any way, it will always be my home.

The Third New Jersey - "Jersey Shore" (South)

I'll roughly define this area as the southeastern part of Ocean County, as well as the shorelines of Atlantic County and Cape May County south to Cape May Point. (NOTE: I just realized it would be helpful if you read this with a map of New Jersey nearby. If you're not geographically inclined, just Wikipedia "Counties of New Jersey" and you'll get a sense of what I am talking about.)

The Third New Jersey includes Long Beach Island, where I've spent some time every summer since 2005. LBI is a fantastic place that gets a bad rap because so many people who summer there are smug, self-important douchebags who like to put "LBI" stickers on the back of their smug, self-important douchebag hybrids and SUVs. I've posted (poorly) before about how beautiful I think LBI is, so I won't belabor the point, but I do think that if everyone who watched "Jersey Shore" spent a few days on LBI and saw how nice it was... they wouldn't assume that everyone from New Jersey was such a Guido.

Let's move south to another place I love... Atlantic City. (NOTE: AC also marginally qualifies for the Ninth Circle of New Jersey, which I'll describe below. I think it best fits here, though.) People identify Atlantic City nowadays as a poor man's Vegas - cheaper, more easily accessible without having to fly somewhere, definitely seedier, and kind of a scary place to drive through.

Until the 1960's and 1970's, however, Atlantic City was a ridiculously popular resort town. Lots of people know that the streets in "Monopoly" were based there, but AC was also home to Democratic National Conventions and a bunch of other important historical events. The next time you drive through the city, try to look past the boarded-up houses, possible crack dens, and "We Buy Gold" stores and try to find an old building that looks like it used to be really classy. You will most likely find one. It's a city with a really interesting history, and that history becomes more and more faded the more we think of the place as a gambling venue/shithole.

Even further south is Cape May. My girlfriend and I occasionally spend weekends there (at a Bed and Breakfast, where we make awkward small-talk with couples in their fifties while we eat delicious homemade food). There are also lots of cool shops, ghost tours/haunted houses (which are a cool spectacle regardless of whether you believe in ghosts), really nice beaches, and the best lobster in New Jersey.

Now, I eat one lobster every year - that's kind of my thing. I really like lobster, but it's expensive and hard to eat and, partly, it's kind of fun to make myself wait for something. (NOTE: In that same vein, maybe I should start smoking one cigarette every year.) Cape May has a bunch of really good restaurants that are happy to offer lobster (even off-menu), and often this is where I have my annual large marine crustacean.

The Fourth New Jersey - New York's Bedroom Communities

New York City is a fantastic city - as Frank Sinatra sang, if you can make it there, you can make it anywhere. The problem is, it's really difficult to "make it" in New York City. If you want to own a townhouse in Manhattan, you're more or less paying a million dollars for it. Want a parking spot to go along with it? It's another hundred grand up front, or you can spend almost a thousand dollars a month in "rent". For a parking space!! While the food is fantastic, the overall cost of living in NYC prohibits all but the ultra-rich, financially foolish, or those willing to live in college-like (or worse) situations until middle age from living there.

That's why a lot of people who work in the city choose to live in New Jersey. New York's bedroom communities encompass a half-moon (geographically speaking) surrounding the city of Newark to the north, west, and south. Some of these suburbs are extremely wealthy - here's an interesting New Jersey fact: the town of Essex Fells, which has a ridiculous per capita income of over $77,000 (meaning the average, hypothetical family of four earns over $300,000 a year) is less than ten miles from Newark, one of the country's most impoverished, crime-infested cities. 

The point is, you're never far from anything in New Jersey, and because there are so many New Jerseys, that helps make New Jersey awesome. This point is artistically demonstrated in the final ten seconds of the opening credits of "The Sopranos", where Tony (driving in his SUV) leaves the hard-scrabble, industrialized world of the First New Jersey and pulls up to his McMansion, in the Fourth New Jersey.

The state of New Jersey was always a character in "The Sopranos", and every resident/fan of the show can point out that moment when their neck of the woods was mentioned on the show. Mine was in Season 3, in the episode "University", when a coked-up Ralph Cifaretto screams at Tracee the naive hooker: "We'll get a farm together in Colts Neck", before killing her outside the Bada Bing! and leaving her dead body in the parking lot.

(Sorry if that was too graphic. That was the show, like it or not.)

The Fifth New Jersey - Philadelphia's Bedroom Communities

This area, which is another half-moon, this time surrounding the city of Camden to the north, east, and south, is pretty similar to the Fourth New Jersey except there are lots of Eagles fans near Philadelphia. (NOTE: I really like that "I am drunk" McNabb jersey. It's almost as good as the "Lombardis: 00" Eagles jersey I saw online a few weeks ago.)

I'll admit that I always had kind of a soft spot for this part of New Jersey. I've always done a bunch of driving down there, either for my current job or to visit Philadelphia. There are great radio stations in Philadelphia - better than New York City, consistently for the past 12 years, at least - and there's very little traffic or congestion (NOTE: completely unlike Fourth New Jersey here - the direct NYC suburbs are the most horrendous, constantly congested, annoyingly-designed roads in the entire country. No, seriously, the excellent 2009 book Traffic was inspired by a Pulaski Skyway traffic jam).

Interestingly, people I've met from this area uniformly seem to insist there are only TWO New Jerseys - North and South. I'm not sure what inspires this logic but I obviously could not disagree more. I'm not a South Jersey kid, and there's no way I'm a North Jersey kid. Just no way.

The Sixth New Jersey - "The Dakota Territory" aka An Ambiguous Section of Central New Jersey

The idea for this blog hit me when I overheard some coworkers discuss what in marketing research is known as a "segmentation study". The idea is that a thousand or so people take a survey on their attitudes toward some product, and their responses are then subjected to a statistical analysis that determines the relative "belonging-ness" (sorry, there's no better word for this) to all the other survey respondents. Over hundreds of iterations, the analysis determines how closely alike some people are to some others, and then it's up to the researcher to determine what these groups of individuals mean. (NOTE: Marketing research is an extremely postmodern profession. All we do is construct meaning out of the abstract -- I've never taken an academic course in marketing research, but if I ever taught one, I'd make students read some Chuck Klosterman as an extra credit assignment.)

Anyway, I have no idea where this part of New Jersey fits in to the grand picture of what I'm trying to describe. It's kind of a horizontal belt over the middle of the state, encompassing towns like New Brunswick and Princeton. (I currently live in the Sixth New Jersey.) It's a fun, middle-to-upper class, extremely ethnically diverse region. There's a lot of work to be had, some good-to-excellent places to learn stuff, delicious food and nice housing. I enjoy specifically that heat and hot water is included in my Sixth New Jersey apartment lease.

I will say this, though: people around here definitely identify with where they're from. I live in a town called North Brunswick, for instance, and for many of the people in this town, do not confuse it with South Brunswick. That will get you punched - seriously. (Weirdly, North Brunswick is itself south of New Brunswick, and South Brunswick is south of North Brunswick. Really we should just re-name New Brunswick North-North Brunswick and get on with things in an orderly fashion. But no...)

Oh, and another thing for you House, M.D. fans out there - they are actually building a Princeton-Plainsboro hospital on Route 1 in Plainsboro. As soon as it opens, I am going to slowly develop a tolerance to Sterno (like that old guy in The Andromeda Strain), walk in to the real-life Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital complaining of strange stomach pains, and watch Dr. House go to work. I hope he demeans me; I like it when House demeans people.

The Seventh New Jersey - Rural West Virginia, aka the "Deep South" of New Jersey

I'm now speaking about the extreme southwest and south-central parts of New Jersey.

This is where I may get a little xenophobic. I'm sorry; it's hard for me to write this without getting a little uppity about stuff. And this particular part of New Jersey brings it out of me. So I'd like to make two points now before I get started on describing our friends to the South: (1) I have blood relatives down there; no, seriously, I'm pretty sure I have relatives in like Millville and Vineland. I don't know them, but they're there. I visited them once when I was a kid. Hi, um... Aunt Mary! (I have no idea what their names are.) (2) You can blame me for being a jerk, but you should also blame them for making it so easy to be made fun of.

 

To be generous, I'll begin by saying there's not a whole lot going on in this part of the state. What lots of people who aren't from New Jersey don't understand (double negative alert) is that most of New Jersey serves no purpose at all. With no close proximity to an industrial or commercial center, a highway, river, ocean, or other means of transport, half the state consists of something known as the "Pine Barrens National Reserve". However, this does not prohibit people from choosing to live there.

Economically, politically, and socio-culturally speaking, residents of this part of the state differ from the state as a whole in every meaningful way. Land is cheap, education is scarce, guns and pickup trucks are plentiful, and - besides maybe fishing in a marsh somewhere - I'm not convinced there's anything at all to do.

In my opinion, all those who live in New Jersey should spend a day driving through these parts of the state. (Make sure your car is filled with gas, and if you happen to have progressive/liberal political beliefs, keep them off the outside of your car on that day.) 

It's really interesting because it's the purest demonstration of what an arbitrary construction states are. The '88 Plymouth Duster you're driving behind has New Jersey license plates; the gun shops are New Jersey gun shops; and the general store has to deal with the same food and safety inspections as an Italian bakery in, like, Maplewood. It doesn't feel like New Jersey, though, because it steadfastly isn't.

Keeping all political issues aside (smart people can have any set of political beliefs, and I think it'd be easy to characterize what I just wrote pretty clearly on a left-right spectrum), why would anyone ever choose to live in such a backwards, poor, useless place? The only reason I can think of is because it never struck them to leave. They're fine where they are, and if you don't like it, you can take your high-falutin' ways and git on out of here. Git!

The Eighth New Jersey - Bizarre Vermont, aka the Skylands

The Eighth New Jersey consists of the extreme northwestern part of New Jersey, which is mountainous, rural, and extraordinarily beautiful.

I remember being in fourth-grade Social Studies class and the year-long topic was "The History of New Jersey." I learned about the Native American tribe that settlers gave smallpox blankets to (the Lenni Lenape), the colonial history of the state, and such. But because I was a huge nerd even then, I really liked the map of the four (I think it was) regions of New Jersey. My favorite region was "The Skylands," an area that seemed so far away and so different from where I grew up that I really wanted to move there. I think what I really liked the most was the idea that it got significantly more snow in an average winter than the rest of New Jersey. 

(NOTE: It absolutely does. I haven't mentioned this yet, but different parts of New Jersey have strikingly different climates, especially with regard to winter weather. If you're in the Skylands, you get approximately the same amount of snow per winter as Boston or Hartford, CT. If you're in Region 3 - the South Jersey Shore - you get about as much snow per winter as Richmond, VA. Two people from the same, relatively tiny state can get together and discuss winters from their childhood, and have completely disparate experiences to report. I find this incredibly awesome.)

Anyway, every single one of these New Jerseys is at least a little weird, but this particular one is extremely weird. This is the part of New Jersey, for instance, where a rural couple was recently arrested and had their children taken away from them because they had the terrible idea of naming one of them Hitler. There is (of course) a Weird NJ magazine (and series of books) describing the different oddball houses, trees, and ghost stories surrounding the state of New Jersey. Although the Eighth New Jersey consists of approximately 10% of the land area of New Jersey (and about 2% of its population), about half of Weird NJ's content comes from here.

Strange enough for you? No? Okay, here's some more. The region's congressman is a Ron Paul-esque libertarian (one of five in the country) who serves on something called the "Liberty Caucus" and routinely ranks as the most conservative representative in the entire Northeast. At a "tea party" gathering in 2009, he demanded vocally that President Obama present a birth certificate to indicate he was indeed a native of the United States. (NOTE: Love or hate the Prez all you want; but stake your claim based on policy; the dude is from the U.S., and that's that.)

Finally, I'll leave you with this: Space Farms. Space Farms always struck me as odd, even when I was a kid and my mom would take us up there to pet lions. The place really has lions, bears, jaguars, and all kinds of crazy professional zoo stuff. I remember being scared because the lions were huge and Space Farms didn't strike me as a place with very strong security... or actual cages, for that matter. But at least after getting mauled by a giant feline, we could enjoy the classic cars and doll collection! And the general store!

The Ninth New Jersey - Major Cities to Avoid

For this final New Jersey, I leave you with the state's ultimate paradox. In the most geographically, ethnographically, and economically diverse state in the entire country (I'm serious), the three major cities - Newark, Camden, and Trenton - have all been riddled in abject poverty for at least the past 40 years.

It wasn't always like this. Newark was a bustling sister city of New York City well into the twentieth century. Paul Simon, Philip Roth, Ray Liotta (awesome), Joe Pesci (unsurprising), Ian Ziering (weird), Max Weinberg, and countless other famous people were born/grew up there. (NOTE: Since the above list was extremely white, I should mention that Newark also birthed Whitney Houston, Wyclef Jean, Redman, Shaq, and NBA player Randy Foye.)

Camden and Trenton, too, were bustling port cities until everything got irrevocably fucked up in the 1960's. In Newark's case, it was a bunch of issues that had probably been percolating for a long while; white flight; lots of housing projects being built by a corrupt government looking for a quick payday; the ridiculously-stupid idea (in hindsight) that superhighways could be built through existing, ethnically diverse neighborhoods without tearing them apart.

At present, one of the only places in Newark worth visiting (if only because it's a hidden gem for delicious Portuguese food and culture) is the Ironbound district. As you expect, this region is completely "Iron-bound" in the sense that it's nearly impossible to find on a map, it's surrounded by train tracks, and very few (let's face it) white people have the balls to venture around in order to find it. That's why I think the transportation issue was really important, at least with regard to the devastation of Newark. New Jersey was way too highway-happy, once upon a time, and the net result is a very successful state that doesn't have a single city to be proud of.

All you have to do is look at one of those lists of America's Most Dangerous Cities and you'll find Newark and Camden there, high atop the list. Parts of these cities are not like West Baltimore in "The Wire" - they're worse. There are parts of Camden where people will be pulled over by a police officer for their own safety. Even the relatively OK parts of Newark, like where PatentlyJersey currently lives, are kind of scary at times and don't have much in the way of commerce or ordinary gentrification. He's seen a murder or two over there; he'll tell you.

But maybe there's something to hope for in these cities. In Newark, at least, the murder rate in 2008 dropped 30% from the previous year, down to 65, which is actually 65 too many but at least a good starting point. With the opening of the Prudential Center, people are being drawn to the city at night, are eating there and so on. Maybe things get turned around; if so, it'd be the only city like this in the United States that's ever been saved. It'll make whoever the mayor is at that time a future governor. Or President? Who knows.

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So that's the nine New Jerseys. Each is unique, and some of them definitely suck more than others. But I like where I'm from, and I hope - at the very least - after reading this you've managed to distance yourself from the notion that the state consists of oil refineries and dudes who call their abdomen "The Situation".

Stay classy out there.

Pseudo-Live Blog: My Second-Ever Business Trip

In the past, typically here at Damaged, Inc. we talk about things like sports, gambling, booze, politics, pop culture and women. Tonight, let's take a sharp left turn and talk about synergy.

Today I embarked upon my second-ever business trip, and I thought we could synergize together about how that went. If that doesn't work, of course, you can ping me or we could circle back on this next week.

After all this is just a brain dump, and all I'm really trying to do is increase your mindshare on how business trips actually work.

Without further ado and without me using any proper nouns at all in this blog post (N.B.: I'm assuming, although I've never been told explicitly, that there are non-disclosure agreements at stake), let's get started...

Monday, December 14, 12:50 PM, North Brunswick, NJ: I double-check my overnight bag, triple-check my laptop case, load up the trunk and leave. I am extremely paranoid and OCD about leaving things behind, and despite (because of?) this, I leave something important behind 50% of the time I travel.

This time, my belongings consist of a change of clothes (business casual), travel-sized toiletries, swim trunks (since the hotel I'm staying at tonight has a hot tub), my cell phone charger, GPS, iPod,... and almost a thousand dollars cash.

I should probably explain the last item.

You see, on this business trip I'm driving around the mid-Atlantic, interviewing business owners (all I can say) for a work client (all I can say). I'm being accompanied by a videographer, and the end result will be a film that will be shown to pretty high-ranking executives at the client company.

The thing is, we need to compensate the business owners for their time. And these business owners are being compensated, in cash, ridiculously well. My advice to those of you out there who are currently not participants in one or more market research panels -- become a participant in one or more market research panels. Find some online. Schlesinger Associates is a great place to start. You will make serious bank, I promise.

Anyway, this trip is supposed to be a lot of fun, and I assume it will be - my job normally consists of a lot of data crunching and report generation, which I really like, but desk stuff doesn't beat a bona fide road trip filming a real-life version of "The Office". Combined with better-than-average December weather, a couple of days on the open road is an unexpected treat.

1:05 PM, North Brunswick, NJ: I'm still uncomfortable paying for things with my corporate card. I feel like I'm cheating or committing insurance fraud or something -- the money I'm using to pay for this full tank of gas doesn't really exist.

Perhaps as a psychological manifestation of this, I fill my tank with cut-rate Raceway fuel. I never do this with my cars, but the gas station is there and I'm scared to death of being late for my first interview, which is at 2 PM.

1:50 PM, Hamilton, NJ: There is good news and there is bad news.

The good news is that there was no traffic on U.S. 1, and I arrived at the location of the first interview ten minutes early. The bad news is that, instead of being at the actual interview site, I'm currently using the women's facilities at a nearby, somewhat seedy Italian restaurant.

It goes without saying to the majority of my readership that I am a little high-strung (at times) and get a little nervous (at times). When I get nervous, I am sometimes overwhelmed by simultaneous dehydration and the need to... you know, pee. Because this unique feeling just hit me, I decided to find a nearby restaurant, where I bought and simultaneously chugged a Diet Snapple.

This became a very bad idea when I was told that the men's bathroom was out of order. Graciously, I was allowed to use the women's facilities while the owner of the restaurant literally guarded the door.

Women's bathrooms are a little weird, for reasons that are probably obvious to women and also not worth mentioning here. I'm just glad that things worked out OK. This could've been a disaster.

3:45 PM, somewhere near Lawnside, NJ: I catch 3 Journey songs in a row on a Philadelphia rock radio station. This immediately reminds me that Journey is awesome road trip music, so I fire up my iPod only to find... the iPod click of death.

My iPod isn't working, which kinda sucks. I was counting on a couple new playlists to get me through northeastern Maryland later tonight. Humming "Only the Young," I surf the FM dial and decide that it's almost time to purchase satellite radio.

5:00 PM, Woodbury Heights, NJ: I'm starting to come into my own as a documentary maker. The second interview of the day went much better than the first, due to lack of nerves on my part and better... synergy between myself, the videographer, and the interviewee.

I'm supposed to remain silent while the film is running - my role is to prompt the responses, but I'm not the actual story here - but at times I do things like provide a "thumbs-up" when the response is good or a "cut it" motion when a loud compressor or something goes off in the business.

At times, I even pull off the "thoughtful, hand on the chin" Mike Wallace pose successfully. If this whole marketing research thing doesn't work out, 60 Minutes, here I come. I'm only kidding.

5:20 PM, Wendy's, Woodbury, NJ: I hope I'm not alone when I say that eating junk food is the best part of a road trip (and the best part of a business trip). I almost never eat by myself these days - I usually have my girlfriend, at bare minimum, as a dining partner - so I pull into a Wendy's for a solitary meal. I find that this particular Wendy's is populated by (a) myself; (b) the Wendy's staff; and (c) a cluster of six mouth-breathing octogenarians wearing NASCAR caps and taking approximately 12 minutes to order.

I miss how, back in the 1980's, the tables inside Wendy's restaurants were linoleum with old-timey newspaper clippings underneath. This made nerdy five-year-old me love Wendy's restaurants. An undeniably classy move, and I have no clue why they decided to get rid of the old-timey newspaper clippings. I want my horse and carriage, dammit!

6:00 PM, near Carney's Point, NJ. A lot of people like to make fun of New Jersey. Those who do so forget how diverse the state is. For instance, I'm currently driving through a part of the state that is memorable only for two things:

(1) Close proximity to the Delaware Memorial Bridge;
(2) Closer proximity to a nuclear power plant, this fact of which I know only because I just drove past a road sign helpfully reminding me that I have entered an "Instant Death Zone."

I am extremely happy to be inside the Carney Point Instant Death Zone, and - in fact - if this particular nuclear power plant is going to erupt at any point in the next 80 years, I kind of hope it erupts right now. Obviously I don't have a death wish or anything, but I can't imagine any way of dying that's worse than through radiation poisoning. I'd rather just get it over with.

6:10 PM, somewhere between New Jersey and Delaware. My dad is scared to death of the Delaware Memorial Bridge, for reasons I've never been able to understand. These days the span is wide and on this particular day, there is no wind, so I have a pretty non-momentous trip
across the bridge into the First State.

6:17 PM, Delaware.

6:50 PM, Bodymore, Murdaland. HBO's "The Wire" has done lots of important things. As an element of popular culture, it transformed the way many people think about crime, poverty, education, mass media, politics, and the complex interactions between each aspect of American life. As allegory, it was powerful. As drama, it was captivating and award-winning. In 2008, the United States elected a President who not only loved the show but considered certain dramatic themes contained therein as logical alternatives to the status quo in dealing with certain domestic problems (e.g., the "War on Drugs", etc.).

At the precise moment, I'm driving through a tunnel, humming Tom Waits' "Down in the Hole" to myself and trying to figure out if I'll ever drive/fly/hover through Baltimore, MD for the rest of my life without thinking of "The Wire." Holy crap, I have relatives I miss less than I miss that show.

Since driving through inner cities is always a little harrowing, and since the undercurrent (if there is one) of this blog post involves dealing with nervousness, I thought I should regale you with the interesting tales of My First Ever Road Trip (2005) and My First Ever Business Trip (2006)... here goes...

My First Ever Road Trip (2005)

• My 2001 Santa Fe was almost fired upon in a drug-infested ghetto in Wilmington, DE. Lost while trying to find our hotel, and in the days before I owned a GPS, my dad and I were driving from Philadelphia to Jacksonville, Florida. I called a friend who lived in a nearby section of Delaware, but because my cell phone service was spotty I misheard him telling me "not to drive down Madison Avenue" without the crucial not to aspect. This was the one and only time I ran through stop signs to get out of a neighborhood. We were scared to death.
• Watched people smoke marijuana casually inside a McDonald's in North Carolina.
• Discussed drug use and sex with my father in a way I hope I never have to again.

My First Ever Business Trip (2006)

• Found out I was allergic to eating MSG through a terrifying P.F. Chang's experience.
• Learned that 22-year-olds have no place in the back room of a focus group facility.
• Had a panic attack in the back row, middle seat, of a small US Airways flight from Charlotte, NC to Newark, NJ because a lot of things went wrong:

1. The flight was delayed and stuck on the tarmac due to poor weather in Newark;
2. I was crammed between two large gentlemen in a very cramped seat with very little available oxygen;
3. The smells from the bathroom behind me were nauseating;
4. I was thirsty, blood-shot and exhausted from the preceding business trip, combined with MSG sickness;
5. At the time, I hated -- HATED -- flying in general.

• Thankfully, a US Airways flight attendant recognized the symptoms - after I calmed down, she told me that her daughter suffered from panic attacks - and moved me into first class, where I sipped warm ginger ale and remained for the entire flight.
• Realized that I wasn't quite ready for a businessman's career just yet.

7:15 PM, Annapolis Junction, MD. I am much readier (more ready?) to be a businessman now. I've made it to my hotel room, without major incident, and settled in. I've checked and fired off a few E-mails, and I'm ready to hit the hot tub.

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Some of the people who read this blog are people I met in graduate school. Graduate students are often indoctrinated with stories of how working in industry is horrible. As a result, I am convinced that many academics feel that 95% of working Americans are constrained to their mortgages, miserable, head-over-heels in debt, treated as expendable at work, and nearly-dehumanized by society as a whole.

There are probably some specific instances where these criteria are satisfied. But I'm not even close to being that miserable, and neither are the people I work with. I'm occasionally around some people who hate their jobs, but that's because their jobs kind of suck.

Systems don't have to malfunction, and any system can be managed by a person or people who are talented enough to manage it successfully. Contrary to some opinions, industry is not always horribly inefficient, dehumanizing, and stupid. There are instances where everything works out fine, and everyone is happy.

Speaking of happiness. My point, consistent with many of the things I've written since leaving Boston back in May, is that happiness isn't something that passively happens to a person due to circumstance. It's something that's created actively. It's the easiest way to explain why most of us are walking around miserable, and it also explains why some people are actually able to figure out how to make shit work.

I'm happy to be on this business trip.

"I'd Have Pink Lights In It": On The New Ford Ads and "Regular" People

In late October of 2009, a series of quick-hitting, Youtube-inspired, 15-second commercials for the Ford Motor Company received a meaningful amount of airtime. There were five commercials in total, each featuring a real Ford owner, (probably) under the age of 30, describing a (usually) kitschy aspect of their Ford car or SUV and why it appeals to their driving style, life style, or general sense of self.

There are many car commercials that air on TV, and almost all of them focus upon one of four well-established and "serious" aspects of automobile ownership: reliability, safety, resale value, and/or fuel efficiency. The logic behind creating these types of car commercials is obvious and based upon a relatively long-standing view of what people think of when they buy cars.

Fundamental in the process is the fact that cars are extremely expensive and it's assumed that people want to purchase something reliable, safe, and that is conservative with fuel. They also want some value for their purchase - when they trade their car in or sell it privately, their car should be worth something.

The dilemma faced by US automakers is that they're selling products with (mostly) inferior reliability, fuel efficiency, and resale value. This is not me speaking out of my ass - this is the actual data talking. If you are a US automaker, how, then, do you get people to buy your products?

Enter Kristen. Owner of a new Ford Escape, Kristen isn't an eye-blink older than 25, really likes the color pink and doesn't know (or seemingly care) when her car needs an oil change. Luckily, her new S.U.V. provides both the flexibility to change the color of its interior lighting (Pink for everybody! OMG, let's watch "So You Think You Can Dance" while sucking on lollipops!) and the ability to have real-time "Vehicle Health Reports" sent to her via text message or E-mail.

These commercials (which have been getting LOTS of airplay during NFL Sundays and also during the 2009 baseball playoffs) are obviously - and, perhaps, sickeningly - geared toward the "casual" car buyer. These ads are not for individuals who are going to pore over back issues of Consumer Reports before purchasing a car. Resale value and fuel efficiency cannot be extremely important to these types of car owners, because these types of car owners mostly long ago switched to Toyota or Honda.

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Because I was interested in what the general public thinks of these commercials, I decided to conduct some half-assed Internet research. Within 30 seconds of Googling "Ford stupid girl tv ads", I found a recent blog post on the aptly-titled Autoblog.com. Along with helpful embedded Youtube videos of each of the new Ford ads, I found a collection of smarter-than-average Internet comments.

Some of these comments were as follows (and I recommend reading all of them if you're like me interested in the machinations behind a daring and controversial ad campaign):

"Simple, product/feature-oriented, honest. No glitz, no hyperbole."

"They're simple, short, and sweet commercials. They focus on the merit of the product alone, and don't try to say something foolish like "HEY LOOK! We compare to the Accord! Please believe us!" This is the advertising focus that Ford has been missing, something that more subtly gives the consumer the idea that Ford has reached a level of superiority."

"I think Ford is on the right track with these real customer ads conveying the details of all the unique technology and features that Ford offers. Its a unique and different way to explain the benefits of owning a Ford and a logical extension of the "Drive One" campaign and social marketing... Plus, having all these 15 seconds ads on YouTube makes it real easy (cheap too) to spread the word around the web... smart!"

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What did I think of these new Ford commercials? Oh, I hated them.

I'll admit the following, and you may hate me for this because it makes me sound elitist, but I am elitist and it's the truth: I strongly dislike just about every piece of advertising that pitches to "regular" people.

I put "regular" in quotes, but I think that you more or less know what I mean. I hate every advertisement for McDonald's, Walmart, Lee Jeans, Wrangler Jeans, Coors, Coors Light, Miller Lite, Bud Light, Taco Bell, Verizon Wireless, AT&T Wireless, Pizza Hut, Chrysler, Jeep, Dodge, and any TV commercial involving Brett Favre, John Mellencamp, or Howie Long.

I hate every commercial that tries to reaffirm to stupid, poor people that it is acceptable to be stupid and poor. I hate all commercials which appeal to the fuzzy and ill-defined spending proclivities of the lowest common denominator, and I hate every commercial that states "now more than ever," "every penny counts", "these days" or uses the word "value."

(*NOTE: I also can't stand those Lexus commercials that advocate giving a loved one a $45,000 car for Christmas, but because this opinion is unrelated to my larger point, I'm going to leave it at that.)

I realize why all of the commercials and products I've mentioned above exist - because entire markets exist in this country solely because there are stupid people out there with money to spend - but I still hate them. They're against my values and what I think every person should strive to be (or to become). However, I still love (and often eat) the Big Mac. I am nothing if not a hypocrite.

My point, long-winding as ever, is this: I am one of those people who finds something attractive in difficult puzzles to solve. I can break down the ethos and cultural meaning of these Ford commercials until the cows come home, but there is in reality very little for me to break down. These commercials are not a new episode of "Mad Men." They are very much like an episode of "So You Think You Can Dance?".

As stated in the Internet comment that I cited earlier, these ads are remarkable mostly in their simplicity. As a consequence, they appeal to those who would buy a car based on "gimmicks" rather than statistics. (My girlfriend would argue that, as a direct extension of this point, these new commercials are sexist. If she chooses to elaborate on this point in the comments, I'll let her.)

As for me, the latte-sipping elitist? I would never buy a Ford, unless the data suggested it were a good idea. I, my devoted readers, am a lame-O. A square. I do not care much for the color pink, I know when my car needs an oil change, and this is why I drive a Civic.

Stay classy out there.

Teh Interwebz Series, Part I: Enter the Modem

The year was 1983. There were only two events worthy of mention that year: I was born, and Nintendo released its first entertainment video game console. The proximity of these events was no coincidence. I've grown up around technology. My experience with computers began with the Commodore 64 and its BASIC programming (10 PRINT "YOU SMELL" / 20 GOTO 10). I remember playing games off a 5.25" floppy disk. I remember the joy at seeing graphical user interfaces for the first time. I remember the very long and detailed Chrono Trigger fanfic my brother and I wrote on a word processor in 1995, which is how I learned how to type. But no memory burns so sweet as the frightening screech of the "modulator - demodulator," a strange new device whose otherworldly sounds heralded a paradigm shift in human culture.

I was too young to really get in on the ground floor -- Usenet, IRC, and most bulletin-board systems were too complicated or vulgar. But I do remember America Online chat rooms. Specifically, I remember the fantasy role-playing chat rooms. As though it were a window into my own future, I spent the majority of my early internet days chatting with strangers pretending to be wizards and dragonslayers, creating elaborate personalities and back-stories, interacting with others in a make-believe land. We would play games, share stories, or just talk about our imaginary lives. Sometimes these lives, these expressions of ourselves in the meta-space of the Internet become so detailed and so invested with emotion that they feel like real parts of ourselves. At some point, even though you're telling a story, you feel like you're really telling people about yourself.

I don't know if this is psychologically sound, but I like to think that all of us have three distinct sets of personalities. The first is completely internal -- the things you think of to yourself, regardless of whether or not those things are socially or morally acceptable. This is where your demons and angels dwell, the thoughts and emotions that you have no control over. The second personality is what you choose to show to the outside world, the edited version of the first, including conscious and subconscious decisions about what to say or do at any given time. The third is what other people think of you -- the version of you that exists in the heads of other people. Technically, this third personality is really a multi-personality, since each person who knows you has a different idea of who you are.

The Internet has given our culture a number of things, but one of the most interesting is that it has granted us a fourth personality type: the version of ourselves that exists in the meta-space of computers. Beginning when people started putting up "personal web pages" on GeoCities or Tripod or Angelfire, we have been able to project ourselves into the aether in a unique way, carefully and meticulously assembling a personality for ourselves that exists within the bounds of a browser window or a chat log. Each photo or image or font that we choose is a conscious decision that reflects us in some way, something that we hope will set us apart from the crowd, and that someone else will see and take notice of.

This phenomenon had, until recently, been confined to the world of the computer-literate -- which itself had been confined to social back woods. Having a screen name was a mark of shame, and if you knew how to make a web page you certainly kept that to yourself. But something changed -- I don't remember when it happened, exactly. It might have been Napster that started the trend, but somewhere along the line knowing how to use computers became "cool." The popular kids were getting screen names, girls were asking the nerds for help with their internet, and celebrities were endorsing video games. Suddenly, almost within a year or two, it was hip to be computer-literate.

And, like so many areas of our lives, once the cool kids got involved things really took off.

Double Your Fun...

That’s right kids, this post is all about double standards and how much I can’t stand them. I think that some of our moral/social standards are a bit absurd in these modern times. For instance, when two people go on a date, traditionally the man is supposed to pay for the evening, every time. I have no problem paying for movies, dinner etc., however for me to be required to pay every single time that I am out with a woman is a bit ridiculous. I understand if, perhaps I was making substantially more, or we were making the same and she had a child to support or there was some other factor making us not equal, then it would make logical sense for me to pay all the time. But if we are both similarly situated there is no reason why the woman can’t pay every so often, more so than just when it is the man’s birthday. Women are no longer confined to the home, with no income. Nowadays women are highly paid executives, attorneys and doctors with, in many aspects, equal potential to men. I’m sure that there may still be some boys club mentality left in business, but I cannot imagine that a company would hire some dumb frat boy, present company excluded (see engineering degree and imminent law degree), and a highly educated and motivated woman. So even if it isn’t a 50/50 split in paying for going out, it would be nice to not be publicly shunned for not paying once in a while.

Dateline ABC did a report on this some time ago. Only it pertained to a website where very rich men met very beautiful women that expected. The male participants expected to date very beautiful women and at some point sleep with them. The women expected to be wined and dined in a very extravagant manner. Dateline compared this website to prostitution. I have news for you Dateline… that IS dating. These guys just have bigger bankrolls than most men. But I have to say that I find no fault in this website. The men on the site know that they are going to pay for everything, and in exchange they will be dating very beautiful women. This is what is known as consideration in the legal field. Thus this doesn’t contribute to the double standard, it’s a contract, a fairly negotiated contract.

Some people argue that men have to pay because we want so desperately to have sex, which is true to some extent, but women like sex too. So why is it that both genders can have sex, which doesn’t necessarily cost anything, outside of contraceptives, but it is the men that always have to pay? Props to gay couples because this isn’t an issue. Also, just because a woman likes sex and might be casually dating two or more guys doesn’t make her a whore. If a man did the same thing he is regarded as “the man” so for this I am siding with the ladies. There are reasons to call a woman who isn’t a prostitute a whore, but this isn’t one of them.

Next on the chopping block is the time honored tradition of asking a girl for her number, and the requisite 3 day waiting period. Women, if you like a guy, ask for his number, or offer yours up, because most of the time we don’t have a clue if you’re into us. I know I have been in this situation many, many times. I might have spent the whole night talking to a girl at a bar but cannot tell if she is there because I bought her a drink or because she is waiting for a friend or what, a little help is all we are asking for. Don’t be afraid to be the aggressors, that traditional social etiquette is almost completely out the door now anyway. Men if you get a number from a girl and actually like her, don’t be stupid and wait 3 days to call her, just call her before someone else snatches her up. Same goes for the ladies.


Penultimately, the issue of cleavage and why men aren’t allowed to look at it. Seriously, why can’t we? I mean it’s not like looking at the sun, we won’t go blind, there might be drooling involved in lesser evolved male specimens but not all of us. Women like to wear low cut shirts, and when they catch us looking, not necessarily staring, just catching a glimpse, they start with the “hey… my eyes are up here” line followed by the “I should be able to wear whatever I want and not be ogled.” Newsflash, you can wear what you want, for the reasons you want to wear it. Frequently, women say they wear low cut shirts because they make them feel good about themselves. But why does this particular shirt make you feel good about yourself? Because it attracts men, and you wish to be desirable to men and when we find you attractive we look at you and this makes you feel good about yourself. You like to show off what you have just like some dude that is really jacked and wears a tank top to show off the guns. You don’t see him telling women to not look at his arms when they are on display. You’re proud of your attributes so it makes you feel good to put them on display. So just relax when guys look and realize that some endorphins have just been released into your brain. I’m not saying put up with staring cause then nothing will get done.

My final attack on double standards has nothing to do with gender, it has to do with smokers. I have noticed in my stints in the employed world that smokers seem to take an inordinate amount of breaks during the day to go outside and smoke. This means they are not working the full amount expected outside of the denoted lunch break and yet salaries are the same even though I am stuck at my desk during this time. And smokers have the same amount deducted from their checks for health insurance even though they are much higher risk, so in a sense they are saving money that they would not be entitled to if they had independent health insurance. BAH I say, BAH!

Shipping up to Worcester: A Pseudo-Live Pseudo-Road Trip Blog

I spent most of this weekend visiting grad school friends in Worcester, Massachusetts. The details of the visit are only secondary with regard to this blog post; it was great seeing my friends and I definitely killed a few thousand brain cells in the process. I ate a bunch of junk food and had some great conversations. It made me kind of miss being a grad student... kind of.

When I lived in Boston, my girlfriend lived in central New Jersey. Approximately twice a month while school was in session, I would make the eight-hour round trip to visit her for the weekend. I always enjoyed the drive (in both directions, although the drive to NJ was better than the drive to Boston), because it gave me lots of opportunities to work through shit in my head.

Depending on how you do it, the drive from New Jersey to Boston can consist of near-constant car rock, lots of scenic views, and the company of lots and lots of other cars. Everyone around you is going somewhere, and that makes long-distance driving lots of fun. My creative streak runs amok on these drives, and lately I thought to myself that it might be interesting (if incredibly narcissistic and self-serving) to blog some of these creative thoughts.

Below is such an attempt. All dates, times, and locations are approximate.

10:55 AM, Saturday, New Brunswick, NJ. Having picked up a bottle of "Sopranos" Pinot Noir (a taste of New Jersey for $12.99 that easily could have been sold for $3.99), as well as three Rocky Patel Robusto cigars for the weekend's festivities, I am off to the races.

It is about 85 degrees and rainy out, and I dread the idiots who will be driving on the Interstate highways of the Northeastern U.S. this weekend. We shall see. On Radio 101.9, "Backwater" by the Meat Puppets is on.

11:10 AM, Saturday, Bloomfield, NJ. Fast highway driving is like playing the stock market in the sense that there are two types of talented highway drivers/stock investors. There are the rare ones who know enough to "get it right" and then there are ones who are (a) aware that they're not the first kind of genius but (b) able to spot them and imitate their every move. I am this second type of talented highway driver.

The Garden State Parkway today is a mess; weekend drivers are retarded in general, because they don't drive often. Additionally, there are lots of weekend drivers on the road and it's raining. We're stop-and-go, and I would be content to chill out in the fast lane (aka low-cost index fund investing) but instead I notice a late-model Toyota Camry that really seems to "get it". I pull behind this car and do really well for about 10 miles, until they exit the highway.

I worry about the day that I pull this move and get myself shot by a paranoid meth addict, but so far, it hasn't happened yet.

11:20 AM, Saturday, Mahwah, NJ. The disc jockey on 101.9 just pre-empted a Silversun Pickups song by referring to how "heavy" it was with respect to most of the radio station's playlist. Two songs later, the same DJ played Led Zeppelin's "Immigrant Song." With a sigh and a shake of the head, I turn over to 104.3.

11:30 AM, Saturday, West Nyack, NY. I feel bad that I really dislike "Freebird". It just goes on and on and on and on. If "Freebird" were five instead of eight minutes long, I would probably like it all right, but I can't tell you the last time I caught it on the radio and haven't turned the dial. I switch back to 101.9 FM, easily my favorite radio station at this moment, and catch MGMT's "Kids", easily one of my favorite new alternative rock songs at this moment.

Meanwhile, I'm going 47 mph in the left lane of the Tappan Zee bridge and I'm getting absolutely dominated by Buicks, Penske rental trucks, and drivers from Maine in the right lanes. There is someone ahead of me in the left lane whom I would quickly murder, if given the chance. They need to give out special licenses for the fast lane.

11:35 AM, Saturday, somewhere between Rockland and Westchester Counties, NY. I may have ranted about this before, and if so, I apologize for my duplicity. However, it's absolutely ridiculous that the Tappan Zee bridge has signs reading "A Life is Worth Saving, Suicide Help Line Ahead."

Let's assume you're the average, severely suicidal person who has already managed to walk halfway up the East Coast's highest bridge, because you're intent upon killing yourself. You see this sign, imploring you to continue walking up the bridge in order to reach a pay phone which may or may not be working.

They're suicidal! How about working to get them off the fucking bridge, where the value proposition of killing yourself isn't so obvious! If I were in charge of writing these signs, I would make them say "Attention Suicidal Person, Suicide Help Line 500 Feet Behind You (on Dry Land)."

I am now in bumper-to-bumper traffic because the people in front of me should have killed themselves years ago but, unfortunately, did not.

11:55 AM, Saturday, Brewster, NY. The pavement on Interstate I-684 in New York is in horrible shape, which is strange because approximately 99% of this year's federal stimulus money has been used on re-paving projects. I know that very meaningful road in New Jersey is either getting widened, repaved, or both right now, which is very annoying when you're sitting in traffic but I guess it makes sense... somehow.

I am now officially leaving the New York City radio market and entering the Greater Connecticut radio market. I listen to rock radio for the most part, which (these days) is like saying "I study 13th-century Norse philosophy." Since January of this year, I've lost my two favorite rock stations in New Jersey (106.3 and 92.3), and I recently heard that WBCN in Boston turned into a Top 40 station, as well.

The one remaining rock station in New York broke the news about WBCN by stating, in essence, "Rock radio is in a panic state, everyone's losing their jobs, and I'm lucky that I get to work right now." Only a decade ago, rock radio stations were institutions; they hosted concerts, had long-running promotions, and you felt like you had a relationship with that particular number on the dial. Now, you're lucky if you have a radio station that plays music that you like.

The issue here is perhaps three-fold. One, smart people have more money than dumb people. Two, smart people listen to rock music, while dumb people listen to Top 40 music. Three, as a consequence, smart people have moved en masse to satellite radio, where they don't have to listen to annoying commercials and retarded disc jockeys who think the Silversun Pickups are heavier than Led Zeppelin.

Because of these three factors, you are now faced with two choices when you're sitting in your car and want to listen to music: (1) buy satellite radio, or (2) be prepared to listen to shitloads of Lady Gaga.

Although I was scared when the first song I heard was from No Doubt, Connecticut's alternative rock station (Radio 104.1) still exists. It will be my musical accompaniment most of the way through CT.

1:00 PM, Saturday, Tolland, CT. Exit 68 off of I-84 in Connecticut is AMAZING. There is a Dunkin' Donuts, a Subway, two gas stations, and a strip club -- basically, everything a dude traveling alone could possibly ever want, all in one stop.

I am currently waiting in line inside the aforementioned Subway, while an entire boys' soccer team (and both their coaches) order subs, one at a time. Whatever is in the water in Tolland, CT, it seems to promote healthy appetites. Each of these children, although they can't be any older than ten, is ordering a foot-long sub with double meat.

Oh, and did I mention that no one on this team (players or coaches) spoke English? They all only spoke Spanish, and no one was available to translate. As you might suspect, this was a complete and utter disaster. Kids ran away without paying, the orders got mixed up, some of the kids didn't have the money to pay.

Because of the language barrier, it was difficult to resolve this issue. The young couple in front of me left a $10 bill on the counter and walked away; I thought about doing the same thing, but I'm way too nice for that. After about ten minutes in line, I am finally munching my toasted 6" Subway Club on Golden Italian.

1:15 PM, Saturday, Union, CT. If I were to name the most desolate place on my drive from NJ to Massachusetts, it would be Union, CT. There is an exit here, but besides a boarded-up Christian book store, there seems to be no signs of life. Maybe there's a town back there somewhere, but I bet it's haunted like Silent Hill.

It's not surprising that in August 2009, the CT Dept. of Transportation has decided to repave this entire section of I-84. As I sit and wait in traffic (the traffic would keep up until the Mass Pike, 7 miles up the road), I think about the most surreal traffic jam I ever experienced.

It was 11:00 PM on a Thursday in August 2008, and I was heading in the opposite direction on I-84 (but at about this same point). Highway crews were (surprise!) re-paving the highway, and three lanes were going to be cut into one, so naturally there was lots of traffic.

It was a warm evening, the ground was very misty, and I had a cigar prepared for this very situation. As I sat in my SUV and slowly smoked the cigar, inching forward on the highway extremely slowly, I started to think about my life.

On one hand, I'd just finished my first year of graduate school with great grades and excellent research. On the other hand, I was miserable and craving something that felt real. Because I needed some, I played the "Clarity" CD by Jimmy Eat World. Between the smoking and listening to emo music, I started to think and feel like I used to when I was nineteen, and this was no good.

For a split-second that night, I could almost touch the past. It didn't feel like a dream, but I didn't feel like I was sitting in traffic, either. I felt like I was anticipating something, even though I had nothing to anticipate at that time. As it were, everything turned out OK, of course. I made it home and eventually left graduate school.

I haven't smoked while driving since. Back in August 2009, I'm playing one of my favorite albums of the 90's -- Guster's "Goldfly" -- because there's no radio reception in Union, CT.

2:30 PM, Saturday, Worcester, MA. It's hard to describe exactly why it's tricky driving on city streets in Massachusetts. It's some combination of the roads being poorly signed, the number of lanes being poorly indicated, intersections being at odd angles, and other drivers constantly pressuring you to drive faster than you want to.

Twice so far, I've been instructed to be in the right lane even though I was about to make left turns. This is not normal.* (*NOTE: Says the kid from New Jersey, where there are jughandles that lead people to do the exact same thing.) Then again, very little is standard about driving around here - you just have to fly by the seat of your pants, and be creative.

You know, kind of like how this blog post was creative. Stay classy out there.

"Mad Men" and the Meaning of Life

I'll admit it: I was originally hesitant about "Mad Men", and it wasn't until my third attempt to watch Season 1 that I made it through. The first two times, I stopped watching because I felt the same kind of uneasiness that makes "Office Space" something less than one of my favorite movies. I felt it was just too realistic a portrayal of white-collar work - it hit too close to home. I don't like it when pop culture makes me feel that my life is meaningless, and I was worried that "Mad Men" was going to make me think that my life was meaningless.

Like always, my initial impression was wrong. To me, what makes "Mad Men" awesome is that it makes me realize that everyone's life is meaningless, regardless of their levels of wealth, beauty, and outward-looking happiness. And also the following, other things:

1) Making smoking look cool again. Because all the Surgeon General's warning shit hadn't happened yet in 1960, everybody on "Mad Men" smokes. (*ASIDE: Because of stupid Hollywood rules, the actors are only allowed to smoke herbal cigarettes on the show. This is ridiculous because it's not the fact that it's a Marlboro that makes smoking dangerous; it's the fact that smoke inhaled into the lungs causes a bunch of health problems. It doesn't matter if it's tobacco, herbs, cloves, hookah, bong, or whatever toots your noodle -- it's bad for you.) This reminds us all that, despite the obvious health hazards, smoking makes everyone look cooler.

I quit smoking cigarettes years ago, and haven't lapsed once since. Recently at a company event, my girlfriend, who ordinarily doesn't smoke, smoked a few cigarettes. When she told me this, it pissed me off -- not because I care that she smoked a few cigarettes (I suspect she won't get hooked), but because I'm incredibly jealous that I could never stop at just one cigarette. I would have 10 Marlboro Lights down within an hour, because they're delicious, they make me look cooler than I am, and because smokers have better random conversations with people. I also kind of blame "Mad Men" for this.

2) The 1960's are an invisible character on the show. A temporal context shouldn't feel like a character, but in "Mad Men" it does. The 1960's were a time of incredible change and turmoil, and you get the sense after watching a few episodes of the show that the world was a cultural powderkeg at that precise moment. Everything was about to change, and everyone seemed to sense this in a very vague sense. The old guard was about to become irrelevant, replaced by a younger generation with radically different ideas about stuff. Somewhere in the middle (both in age and in ideology) is Don Draper, who is fighting always to maintain his own identity. I have no clue where he'll end up, but I'm sure it won't be pretty.

3) Who is Don Draper? No, seriously, who is he? I'm only less than halfway through Season 2, and I can't figure it out yet. As far as I know, no successful TV show has managed to base an ensemble drama around a main character who has no past. Artsy movies like "Memento" have pulled this off (kinda), but on TV? No frickin' way, man. There's a lot of stupid TV out there, but "Mad Men" is the kind of show you can feel smart about watching.

4) It reminds you that being at the right place at the right time is extremely important. Don Draper, like a dinosaur at the dawn of the Ice Age, is going to become culturally irrelevant at some point during "Mad Men" -- it hasn't happened yet, but it will at some point. Mark my words; Don Draper is not going to go gently into that good night. This is a shame, because his personality would have been a perfect fit for the generation just before his own. Other characters on the show, such as Salvatore and Peggy Olson, have personalities that would be perfect fits for the generation just after their own. These people will not be as successful as they would have been, had they been born just 20 years sooner or 20 years later.

I get the sense that this is the case for lots of people. For instance, I am convinced that, had I been born in 1973 instead of in 1983, and had every other aspect of my childhood been exactly the same as it was, I would be a 35-year-old, insanely successful Silicon Valley entrepreneur instead of a 25-year-old, moderately successful Project Director. My life right now is happy, but I've always had the sense that I was born at the wrong time.

5) The overall portrayal of work juxtaposed with "What Life is Supposed to Mean." I mentioned at the beginning of this post that "Mad Men" reminded me too much of "Office Space", which I said is probably why it took so long for me to get hooked on the show. Now it's one of my favorite aspects of the show. Every single character on the show is both vaguely miserable and morally compromised. Marital fidelity is the exception, not the rule. Account managers at Sterling Cooper would sell their own mothers down the river for the next big deal.

Everyone -- even the Mad Men whose job it is to construct artificial realities for people -- are striving to obtain an artificially-constructed reality, which must include a smiling wife, two kids and a dog. What "happiness" is is never mentioned, because no one on the show can even come close to understanding it.

6) Misogyny and the overall objectification of women. Don't get me wrong; I feel like women are (at the very least) the equal of men. In fact, I think women make better bosses than men do, for a bunch of reasons that aren't worth elaborating here. This doesn't mean that I can't find the fact that it wasn't always like this hilarious.

In "Mad Men", a show with a writing staff comprised mostly of women, women are almost always the secretaries. In addition, they will always be the secretaries, and their careers have one of two possible endings. They will end up either as head secretaries, or as housewives. They will fetch coffee for their bosses and hang up their (expensive, stylish, and awesome) overcoats. They will type and take correspondence, and they will conceal their bosses' inevitable affairs. They will answer to things like "Sweetheart" and even "Sweetcheeks." Men will crack hilarious jokes at their expense, which leads me to the next (and final) item...

7) Extremely high levels of quotability. In addition to dozens of snide lines directed at women (watch the focus group scene from Season 1 -- each line is better than the one that precedes it), Don Draper's often asks his wife and his bosses, "What do you want me to say?" The quintessential middle manager, his job is to please. There's significance here, but I'll leave it up to you to watch the show and figure out what it is.

He also uttered my favorite line of the show, "I have a life, and it only moves in one direction: forward." (I realize that if you haven't seen the show, these lines may lack some context. You'll help yourself greatly by watching the first two seasons on DVD, preferably before Sunday night, when Season 3 begins on AMC.)

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My dad, having obtained a reasonable level of professional success and financial flexibility, decided to retire a few years ago at age 58.

Since then, he's gotten to know the guy who delivers the mail and he goes for walks on the beach every day. He serves on a couple of directorial boards and travels a few times a year, but basically he lives the life of a Floridian retiree --he has a very nice lawn, since he's now obsessed with mowing it approximately every two days.

On a visit last year, I was struggling with not really liking being a graduate student. I never felt comfortable with the Kabuki dance of academia, the idea of a lifetime spent struggling like academics struggle, and numerous other aspects of my career at that time. However, because I was a good student and a good researcher, I felt I could make it through until the Ph.D. (at that point).

I think I was trying to convince myself that sticking around to get the Ph.D. was a good idea when I started to think out loud, listing all the benefits of obtaining the degree to my Dad. When I ended with "...and at the end, I'll finally get some kind of peace of mind," my Dad responded with, "I don't think you'll ever find peace of mind."

But hey, at least my life has only direction, and that's moving forward.