Where Ya Been, Dave?

...asked a friendly email query.

Yeah, sorry. The job has been really crazy busy of late. Writing copy for 120 clients in a soon to be launched partnership between the company I'm with and a major airline. I know so much about day spas, kayaks, dog-sledding, salons and four-course dinners with wine pairings now, it's insane. I'm also learning a lot about Chicago and Denver, the two target cities we've been focusing on. It's actually quite fun to write about so many different things, as opposed to previous jobs where I wrote for one client day in and day out, and usually a client whose goods and/or services I had zero confidence in and would never purchase myself. We expect to launch later this month. I'll keep you posted.

Another thing keeping me busy is the sudden "success" of Radio Free Babylon on Facebook. I hovered around 100 "Likes" for months, but somehow one or two of my comics got shared around Facebook and now I've got thumbs-up all over the place. It's pretty cool, but at the same time now I feel pressure to create more of them, and faster, which is stupid since most internet comics release one a week. I've been on a four-a-day pace since I saw the spike in traffic early this week. Somebody once said, "Leave them wanting more." I should take the weekend off. It's not like anyone is paying me to do these, but I do love to do them. Maybe they will turn into something I can't even foresee at this point. Right now I'm just trying to learn to navigate the strange world of Facebook Fans, something I've done for clients in the past but never for myself. "What is the brand voice?" you find yourself asking yourself. "It's your voice, idiot!" yourself responds.

In other news; Fall has arrived in Florida. This is official as the pool is now too cold for swimming. I tried to prolong the inevitable, jumping in early this week. A Canadian might've found it delightful, but we're wimps down here, and it was "bracing." So soon we'll be pulling out the pants with cloth down to the ankle - whatever they call those things that aren't shorts - and putting on those funny things that cover your feet when you have to wear those other kind of shoes that aren't flip-flops.

Football is here and at Casa de Jetpacks we are thrilled. I hope to find a spot or two from the weekend viewing that is worthy of scorn, mocking, ridicule or praise.

Post Number 2000

I've tried to make this blog more about quality than quantity. It has been for me, above all, a creative outlet, because we all know how hard it is to actually be creative, even in a supposedly creative industry. (As I tell every "creative," keep a real creative passion on the side just to keep you sane, because you will never fully satisfy your need to create through your work.) 

And with that, I'm putting this blog on indefinite hiatus. It's been a fun four and a half years, but it's time to do some other things. I need to sell a book, or write another couple. I need to land a full-time job*. Or get a degree in architecture. Maybe I'll record some more music. Maybe I'll put a little more effort into some other neglected endeavors. Maybe I'll clean out the attic. It's good to reinvent yourself. Just ask Bowie.

I will still be on Twitter and probably still posting things at Radio Free Babylon. And I might bring this blog back to its regular posting frequency after I've had some time to miss it. As I said, it's a hiatus.

* If you need a résumé, just search the archives of this blog and you'll get a good idea of what I do. I'm entertaining all offers east of the Mississippi. If you still want to play the old-school game of "objective, experience, education," find me on Linked-In.

Day After Thanksgiving Self-Indulgent Creative Exercise

Had a song stuck in my head, so I cut it up into a :30 promo for Radio Free Babylon, filling it with old images from this blog.

Testimonials (From Your Family) Don't Lie

The people who know you best can be your worst critics, so when I read this, I was sorta pleased. My oldest sister, a former Washington journalist turned DC PR pro (writing runs in the family) sent me this email late last night:

Hey:

Long ago I downloaded your jetpack song from iTunes (think it was from iTunes), but never got a chance to listen to it. So I'm going
through the house doing my chores with my iPod on, and then this song comes on and I'm thinking, "That has a nice beat. I like it." Then I'm sort of dancing to it while doing my chores. And it wasn't until halfway through I realized -- it was you!

Do more.

Dana

In other words, "I was quite surprised that my little brother made a song that I like. Usually when he comes up here, I'm trying to grab the guitar from him and make him stop his raucous jamming on my acoustic, which was built for sweet melodies and sincere songs." 

So, be like my sister and dance while doing your chores. Or whistle while you work. Whatever. I'm far short of paying for a new roof with the proceeds from your purchases, so get busy.

You want a harder sell? Like, the hardest sell ever? See here.

And when you're done doing that, go "Like" the group on Facebook.

And yes, I'm doing more.

Make Him Stop!

Sorry, I'm such a sucker for 4th grade humor. (And I love dogs.)

Available at the store.

"Like" is Such a Strong Word

Working on some stuff. Been a little preoccupied. You can help end my preoccupation by going over and "liking" the page the image at left links to. Facebook won't let you have your own page name until your page has 25 Likes. I'm at 21.

So hurry, act now. Don't wait. Walk, don't run.

Radio Free Babylon is sort of the "parent company" of what I do here as well as the "holding company" of all my other projects, and you'll note that my profile image on Blogger is the company's symbol.

As it says in the company's FAQ:

What's with the squiggly symbol?
That's the schematic representation for a resistor.

Why?
Because we are resistors.

What are you resisting?
Stuff and junk.

I keep saying "company" as if it still was a company, but I long ago let my incorporation lapse. What matters these days is securing domain names (I lost track of how many I've collected), Twitter accounts (9 and counting), Posterous, Tumblr and Facebook pages. Once you have all that down, legal takes care of itself. It only occurred to me in the last few days to make a Facebook page for RFB. And now, my procrastination is your emergency. Sorry. And thanks.

Holidays are the Time for Tea!

Just in time for the Holidays! Have your own toasty-warm Tea-Party with these too-cute-for-debate mugs.

Get you one! Or a dozen!

Then get over to the Facebook page and like that thing!

Lady in Red, Men in Black

I long ago vowed that I would never open a Cafe Press shop. Today, I break that vow. First two designs are up, with more to come. (And likely also an intrusively loud sidebar banner on this blog that tries to guilt you into shopping.)

Idiocracy

Original image here.

They Say My Music's Too Loud

The times, they call for it. A little Friday fun from RFB.



Previously in Jetpacks' Odd Pairings on YouTube:
Whole Lotta Rhythm Goin' Round
Sweet Soul Alabama

Ripples of a Coming Storm

Backyard, Wekiva Springs, Florida, USA. 06/01/10, 8:15 PM.  (Click for the larger.)

Supersaturated Street Views - Music Video Edition

If you search Google Street Views on this blog you'll see how long I've been fascinated (obsessed) with this aspect of Google's Total Domination of the Earth. They own my email, this blog, YouTube and the street I live on.

This video combines my one-guitar, one-voice rendition of the very dark American Blues classic "Dock of the Bay" with images of the San Francisco area as seen on Google Street Views, with the saturation pumped up a bunch to give it a dreamy quality. (Assuming you dream in color.) I found the mundane, the sublime, the silly and the sad just by dropping that little yellow man onto the map and moving him up and down the streets of this great American city, trying to frame each scene just so. I've only been to SF a few times, but I was captivated, just like most people who visit that very unique Golden State town. Now I feel like I've been there again.

If I get 1 million views of this video, I might just ride my bike from Orlando to San Francisco in support of some worthy cause, perhaps homeless veterans. I figure it'll take a little over a month. ('Course I'm gonna need a few sponsors, like a motel chain and a restaurant chain, probably a bike shop as well.) If not, I might attempt to sell this song or video on iTunes and try to get enough money to fix the roof, because it's leaking. If the estate of Otis Redding or the monolithic monster Google come after me, I'll jump from that bridge when I come to it. Short of that, just enjoy. And for best results, please crank it up.

Yeah - I Think That About Says It

Made a poster to amuse myself.

Don't You Make That Indian Cry

In the past, when we had friends and family over for parties or meals or to watch a game, they'd stand in the kitchen with an empty beer bottle and look around, asking, "Do you guys recycle?" We'd say, "No, just throw it in the trash." Eventually, we learned to say, "No, we've been meaning to, and we really should, but just throw it in the trash."

Some of our relatives lived a long time in Germany, and they had adopted the insane recycling techniques of that country, where you separate your potato skins from your cabbage cores, your brown glass from your green glass from your clear glass, your clean cardboard from your printed cardboard, and so on. If you do not do this in Germany, the town's Burgermeister or Magistrate or some such official will put one of those real estate agent locks on your front door and mark off your yard in caution tape, your children become wards of the state and you are sent to do community service at the shipyards in Bremerhaven.

Another of our relatives is simply a do-gooder lefty, who went about changing all of our lightbulbs to the new florescents on a visit a year ago. He's been a crazy recycler since the invention of the 2-liter Coke bottle, and he would always seem disappointed when he stood there at the trash can, empty beer bottle in hand, asking once again, "You guys don't recycle, do you?"

At school, the kids are made to think that families that don't recycle are just like those factories in China, bellowing smoke and ash into the atmosphere and requiring that citizens walk the streets in dust masks. This form of education goes hand in hand with the other programs that tell children that people who keep wine or beer in their homes are only steps away from heroin addiction.

I finally gave in. I started recycling. And now when I find an empty water bottle or a cardboard box in the trash, I fish it out and track down the offender, demanding of them, "Do you HATE the PLANET?" They know I'm joking, but the household is having a hard time adjusting to my new Nazi Recycling Regime. And I'm having a hard time justifying it. I hear it requires an insane amount of energy and money to convert used materials into new materials, and I feel like an idiot standing at the sink trying to coax a lime wedge out of a Corona bottle so that it doesn't attract the raccoons and bears once it's in the garage along with smelly old bean cans, stinking milk jugs and not-quite-rinsed jam jars.

But hey, they made me do it.

Jesus Tested. Jesus Approved.

Christians join free? Do I have to show my stigmata to prove it? And this guy posing in front of what looks like a Powerpoint presentation, he is Certified Christian? How do I know that if he isn't wearing Tim Tebow bible verses under his eyes? He looks like an anchorman, and we all know the mainstream media hate Jesus. Or is it just your site that is Certified Christian? Who does the certification? What are the criteria to become certified?And if I am Danny or Suzy Christian, my head now spins with so many questions. Shouldn't I trust God to find me a match? Am I thwarting God's will, perhaps even letting you play God, if I join? What about those people who you charged to join your site, who aren't Christians and therefore aren't entitled to the free membership? What happens when you match a believer and a non-believer? I can already hear the fighting around the Holidays, when Jack wants a Christmas tree and Jill wants a Menorah.

I hate "Christian" businesses. I hate the concept of marketing to a specific faith group. It fosters and further deepens an already elitist "us" versus "them" mentality.

And so Christians have their own plumbers and electricians and radio and book stores. Just look for the little fish symbol and you know you're in good hands. Good honest hands attached to a heart that is pure and a head that believes like you do. And votes like you do, too. "Unclean" would the believer become were he or she to listen to music "of the world," or watch movies and read books that didn't support a particular world view. Keep your radio tuned to schlocky sub-par crap and your iPod filled with poorly produced pseudo-gospel of a thousand sub-genres. Don't drink. Don't smoke. Don't eat food sacrificed to idols. Don't lust. Except in your heart for Sarah Palin. Buy the books. Attend the seminars. Use the phrase, "Judge not lest ye be judged," only when someone is judging you.

But I can go on and on on this topic. And have. Somebody find me an agent.

Banner ad found at The Awl.

It Usually Starts WIth a Title and an Image

A new project*, coming soon** from Jetpack Productions.


* "Project" is the loose term we give to things that have not been developed in the least, and only exist as a URL and a few vague notions.

** "Soon" is the undefined timeframe we give to things that may be here next week or next decade.

Nope - Ain't Seen No Jetpacks Yet

In the last couple of days, I've had friends send me messages via Facebook, Twitter and email regarding this story from The Wall Street Journal. It's very similar to a story done in July of last year by The New York Times—and it's the same old story, "Everyone wants a jetpack - but jetpacks suck really bad right now."

Because of the title of this blog, I've been quoted in a book about Jetpacks.

There's another book about Jetpacks whose title is the same as this blog. (I was first.)

And there will also always be crappy jetpack announcements from starry-eyed inventors. But none of the jetpacks fly very far for very long, they're usually tethered, and they're usually priced at about $250,000.

When I was in 2nd grade, I checked out a tattered old book from the Fort Lewis, Washington Elementary School Library called Skyjets for Fliers of Tomorrow. It told the tale of two kids who got mail-order flight suits and went flying around their town, visited their grandma and were home in time for dinner. (Images on this post from that book.) I guess that book started me wishing I could fly, but it's really an ancient and universal dream - personal flight. And it hasn't happened yet. Not to any satisfactory degree, anyway. I mean, who wants to fly only over a lake tethered to a giant hose sucking water from the lake?


The only way I will stop asking the question “Where’s My Jetpack?” is when jetpacks are affordable to common clowns like you and me and will safely convey us to and from our places of employment or the grocery store. It would also be nice if they didn’t sound like F-18s at full throttle and could fly for longer than a couple minutes on a tank of fuel. Another real benefit would be if they were available at Wal-Mart. I want them easy enough to operate that my Mom could handle one.

But more than that, the question “Where’s My Jetpack?” is at its heart a joke. The jetpack is simply a symbol of all the other things that were supposed to be here by now, promised to us by the advertisers, by Disney, by the government and all the other dreamers. As it says over in the sidebar under “Bascially...”: “The future is now, and we’re still waiting.”

It's all explained in the lyrics to this blog's theme song.

UPDATE: And Hanna points out in the comments that Quaker just launched - haha - get it? "launched" - sorry - a campaign featuring a Jimmy Fallon lookalike wearing a Quaker Oats jetpack.

Seven (Future) Things About Me

During the last round of "Seven Things About Me," the blogger meme where you tell....yes... seven (likely unknown) things about yourself...I opted out when a few of my virtual friends asked me to play along, citing my previous involvement in the game.

I've rethought it and decided to play, but with a twist.

I will reveal seven things about my future self, and then call out a few bloggers to do the same.

1. After the publication of my epic saga and the subsequent sale of the movie rights to Spike Lee (who was in a bitter bidding war with Ron Howard), I was able to move to Adelaide, SA and became a citizen of Australia. I think it was the appointment of Sean Hannity as Secretary of Patriotism by President Limbaugh that finally tipped the scales.
2. I finally learned to surf, but finding surf in SA without great white sharks isn’t easy.
3. We have a vineyard and farm in the Barossa Valley. We make some wine, but we always end up drinking it all or giving it away as gifts. The farm is mostly an excuse for our dog to practice sheep herding, which he sucks at.
4. Whenever we visit the States (maybe once a year, lately) we like to mess with people by acting like we can’t understand them through their thick accents.
5. Our daily 30-minute show (Monday-Friday, live online) Radio Free Babylon, was banned in Saudi Arabia. Again. After that, Pepsi stopped sponsoring us, leaving the door open for Coke. The contract says we have to drink it on-camera, but I usually spike mine.
6. During the Canadian-American War, I started stockpiling weapons, water and food. Don’t come looking for them.
7. I can finally speak Spanish fluently, which is useless down here.

And now, your turn:

Bill
Kym
Kaitlyn
Chimp
Lori
MMM
Stan
Broad
Corey

This Is What It's Like

My co-workers are leaving early with well-wishes for a Happy Thanksgiving. My blogger friends post the same nice tidings. My Twitter feed is full of turkey talk and expressions of thanks, while we all look forward to a weekend of football and food. (Go Gators.)

Our lives often suck, but they could be worse.

And so, from the bottom of the pan of candied yams, where the sticky-sweet goo of brown sugar and marshmallows pool, I give you this syrupy, thankful lyric.

(There is no music yet, except in my head, so you're free to set these verses in your mind to whatever genre/beat pleases you.)

This Is What It's Like

From the forthcoming project Time's New Romans

What’s that shine in your eye?
yeah, you’re such a good spy
Have you been getting high?
I like the way you move
Slinky—with a groove
Not a thing you need to prove

So if the world stopped now
has it been a good ride?
Could you get off happy?
Did you have a good time?
And if it all ends tonight
would you die with regret?
Was there something you wanted?
Was there something unmet?

Well I’m glad you’re not let down
and I’m glad you can see
that this is what it’s like

to be happy

And if the money don’t show
and the car won’t go
and the dream is moving slow
Take a walk ‘round the block
Stop and take stock
Just listen—try not to talk

And you know it makes sense
to be at home in the stream
not looking past the trees
but living the dream
And when you’re going with the current
you expect to get wet
Keep your head above water
‘cause we’re not there yet

Well I’m glad you’re not let down
and I’m glad you can see
that this is what it’s like
This is what it’s like
This is what it’s like

to be happy

©2008 Radio Free Babylon. All Rights Reserved. For Whatever That's Worth.

More Thanksgiving thoughts over here.

Admit It: You Were Moved

Regardless of how you voted, (or if you're a foreigner watching from afar) tonight is special.

God Bless America. And I don't use that term loosely.