Blogging since 1998. By David Wertheimer
Moin Moin! How are you you? I have a fun toy for
Young people searched for your order. Hurrah! I really exactly,
what I was looking so long at the following from a dedicated
Author operated Web site. The Internet Web Site remote
discounted capital ships, harbor tugs and flattop.
The remote-controlled boats are gifts, you who at any time
should watch! So quickly in order: remote-controlled boat
(Translation via Google Translate. Also: I think it’s about time I turned off comments for good.)
For reasons still unclear to me, a six-month print subscription to Newsweek in my name began arriving in my mailbox this week. Awesome.
(I should note that not only is this borderline ridiculous, situationally, but also that in my many years of reading magazines I never liked Newsweek. I grew up in a Time household and I subscribe to The Economist. Newsweek felt fluffy. I wonder if I can gift this comp sub somewhere.)
Westside Independent: Numerous UWS Restaurants Closed for Health Violations. The list of May offenders includes Tal Bagel, Hot & Crusty and Popover Cafe.
I had breakfast at Tal over the weekend and nearly posted a review to Yelp and Menupages about it. The place is, in a word, dirty. Tables full of crumbs, grimy floors, a crusty pizza that looked like it had been sitting out since the night before. My bagels were fine enough, but I had them toasted–they were undoubtedly a day old. (Ask a Tal employee on a Saturday morning, “Which bagels are warm?” and he’ll tell you, “None, we didn’t cook this morning.”)
The beauty of living in Manhattan, of course, is that choice is abundant. So instead of Tal, I go to Lenny’s a few blocks up for a bagel, or, when it’s convenient, to H&H (which has had its share of problems recently, but about money, not cleanliness). I rarely go to my freakishly expensive local supermarkets; I hit Fairway instead. And while Popover Cafe has some good food, my wife (accurately!) says it’s too dirty, so we eat elsewhere.
The real problem here is that all the dirty places on the UWS seem to be the ones nearest my apartment. Get it together, people! I want to support your well-run businesses!
The elected members of the New York State Senate and Assembly have been more likely in the past 10 years to leave office by resigning in disgrace than to actually lose an election.
From my post on aiaio:
Contemplating how to service users with 1.5″ BlackBerry screens was one thing; dealing with iPad users, with their 1024×768 screens and just-like-a-laptop-only-better expectations, is entirely another. And while the iPad may be just a first step in an evolution, a million unit sales in a month suggests someone found the keys to the steamroller.
It’s easy to forget that the iPad is both a laptop and a mobile device–a blurry line that is only going to get blurrier. I know of a retailer that converted a few thousand dollars in sales on its circa-2007, Flash-enabled website last year … in iPod Touch user sessions. Evolution doesn’t wait.
I worry that this pervasive and seamless socialization can ooze into our personal relationships and potentially dilute the value of friendship as well. If I order two copies of photos of my kids so I can send some to you, that is one manifestation of my affection; I “like” you. If I email you those same photos, it’s less effort for me, but the meaning is similar. But what if I share those same photos on a public blog or with a few hundred folks on Facebook? Hasn’t that very personal connection between you and me been watered down?
An old friend called me on Saturday.
“How have you been?” I asked.
“Good, good, just on my way to the supermarket, my 10 minutes of quiet now that the baby’s home.”
“The baby?”
“Yeah, she was born two weeks ago.”
“She was? Congrats! I had no idea.”
“I posted it on Facebook, didn’t you see it? That was basically my one communication to the outside world.”
Not long ago big news was delivered via telephone. Then, for a while, email moved in. Now we’re onto notifications, posted to third-party locations on the assumption that everyone of consequence is dialed into them. What’s the next step? How much between now and then might we miss?
Blog comment spam has gotten direct and chatty lately, to the point where I’ve had to read things twice to verify whether or not the content is real. Some of it is obvious, like opinions unrelated to the blog post referenced, but even the idea of sharing opinions is a new twist.
At the risk of encouraging more of it, I thought I’d share Saturday’s comment spam contents here, for those who haven’t seen the likes of it, unedited:
Refreshing site. My co-workers and I were just talking about this the other evening. Also your blog looks great on my old sidekick. Now thats uncommon. Keep it up.
I really enjoyed this article, can I copy a paragraph to a new site that I’m building? I’ll add a link back to this page and credit you with being the author of course.
Thank you for your great post. I also must say that your blog design is top notch. Keep up the great work.
I did a search on the topic and found most people agree with your blog.
Unfortunately, all this does (as with most spam) is waste my time. I’ve resorted to googling the names, email addresses and/or URLs of my commenters to ensure validity before posting. Ah, what next?
1—me, circa 2002
2—other people named David Wertheimer (at the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation and USC, respectively)
3—images in blog posts I’ve written on aiaio
4—my son and his cousins
A full look at Google Images brings up numerous croppings of the other Davids as well as my wedding photo and various inanimate objects.
One of the more random occurrences in adult life is discovering the company one keeps in one’s office building. Companies rent space, and the neighbors can be all sorts of interesting.
I haven’t had all that many exciting office situations over the years, but a few stand out.
1. Viacom. Specifically, MTV, in the Viacom building when I worked in the Viacom building (also in the music industry). Working for a medium-size company in the headquarters of a huge company was all right, because it meant we could sneak into the huge company’s cafeteria and get subsidized cheeseburgers with curly fries and eat on a swanky roof terrace in the middle of Times Square. And I worked at 1515 Broadway during the height of TRL’s run, so we could hear screaming crowds daily at 3 p.m. For all the noise, though, the MTV crews were surprisingly unintrusive.
2. XM Radio, which had half a floor in The Economist’s headquarters when I worked on Economist.com. Having left Billboard to go to The Economist, I was pleased to find myself down the hall from a radio network, and I even auditioned for a job on their alternative radio station. (The program director called me decent but unpolished.) In 2002, XM was where smart, cool, fringe-of-the-industry types worked, so I got to meet folks like Pat Dinizio from time to time. And, of course, Gene Simmons.
3. Butterfly Salon. My current job is on the same floor as a beauty parlor, which means my colleagues and I are subject to any of the following on a given afternoon: lots of strangers on our floor. Embarrassingly dirty bathrooms, often covered in fresh cut hair. Pretty, standoffish young stylists. Chemical smells from permanent wave treatments. Then again, we have a standing discount at the salon, and they periodically ask us for models who get free haircuts and highlights, so it’s not all bad. Our CCO has a standing offer from me that for the right price I’ll volunteer and dye my hair black, but he hasn’t pulled the trigger yet.
(And by unexpected, I mean no listing stuff like the time I had drinks with The Pursuit of Happiness at the bar at Mercury Lounge after their gig. That’s too easy.)
1. Gene Simmons, in the XM Radio studios in New York. Unexpected not for the location but for how I wound up hanging out with him. I think he had come in to do some promos. I worked down the hall so at the radio tech’s suggestion I stopped by for no particular reason. This was late-period dickwad Gene Simmons, not mid-period cool-as-fuck I-wish-I-were-in-Kiss Gene Simmons, so he was grouchy and bewigged and all sorts of imagination deflating, but still, Gene Simmons.
2. Ira Kaplan, selling his own band’s T-shirts before one of the Yo La Tengo Hanukkah gigs at Maxwell’s in Hoboken. I was all “hey, whoa, you’re Ira! from the band!” and he was all “well, yeah, I am.” We hung out for a minute or two, mostly because he was selling me a T-shirt.
3. My Sister’s Machine, at the Cheesequake rest stop on the Garden State Parkway at 3 in the morning after their gig opening for King’s X at Tradewinds down the Jersey shore, which I had just seen. They never made it, but I still recall the juxtaposition of a band in full metal mode, off stage, buying lukewarm fast food. And milk, if memory serves. We were all “hey, we just saw you! nice gig!” and they were all “yeah, um, we’re not here ok?”
4. Taj Mahal, at a summer camp, hanging out with a bunch of us CITs after he performed for the camp as a favor to the owner, who was a friend of his. This meeting forever changed how I listened to music and was reprised 18 years later, but those are stories for another day.
Ideapad © 1998–2024 David Wertheimer. All rights reserved.