Black Friday Time Trials

A mishap on the track disqualifies a shopper, but we watch this sport just to see the wrecks, don't we?

An Icon Becomes Real

I've always hated the jangly, busted-down, one-wheel-doesn't-work, clank-clank shopping carts at Target. But last week my local store finally got the new ones. They look like the "shopping cart" icon on any ecommerce site. I understand this is a weird thing to get excited about, but you've never pushed a cart like this.

Below, a portion of my review for "Cart and Driver"

The steering improves on the numb performance of earlier models with a smooth ride, the insulated handle not transmitting a lot of unwanted feedback to the driver. A sporty front end really helps give the cart a more modern look. The new model makes previous generation carts look ancient. Handling, acceleration and stopping performance are second to none. Responsive, powerful, and sexy, you will love driving this cart for hours, the wind in your hair as you roll carefree through the landscape of the chain store's smoothly laid aisles. When you're done, attempt the time-honored practice of riding it, scooter-style, through the parking lot to your car.


For the moment, it seems the Target cart is without competitive peer. The question then becomes: Does the cart matter? When a shopping cart occupies such a unique niche in the market place, pointing out the highs and lows becomes moot, because customers will push them all day long. After all, where's the competition?

Necessity is the Mother of Repair

Or "Google is Your Friend"

One of the household Dell monitors crapped out. Four months ago, when I was employed, this would've been solved by buying another monitor while cursing the shoddy workmanship of the Chinese who toil night and day at pathetic jobs that pay shit to give us the cheap, disposable stuff we demand. But as a man slowly learning the value of thrift, a Google search revealed that you could find bad, bulging capacitors on the power supply board. So I tore it apart and sho nuff, there the little bad bulging bastards were.

Regardless of what you're trying to do in your life, be it diagnose your own ailment, hang a ceiling fan or fix a power supply board on a cheap monitor, the forums are trolled by people slowly finding themselves out of work. They resent that you are trying to do their jobs and they hate thinking of themselves going the way of travel agents, encyclopedia salesmen, graphic artists and copywriters. The doctors get on the medical forums and say, "See a doctor! You probably have a horrible disease!" The electricians get on the "how to" forums and say, "Hire a licensed electrician or you will probably burn your house down!" and the computer techs get on the computer forums and say, "Stand in a puddle of water, plug the thing in and then stab it with something metallic and non-insulated! DIE, you stupid know-nothing fucks! And I hope all your porn gets deleted in the process!"

Despite the dire warnings from the computer techs, I set about saving some money.

So I tried to remember how to de-solder something and got those ugly-ass capacitors out and took them to Radio Shack, where the worthless clerk said, "Nope. I suppose I should have those since everyone seems to want them." I guess crapping-out Dell flatscreen monitors are all the rage. So I went to a crazy place in Winter Park, where a flying saucer and a pair of rockets have been landmarks for years. They have everything a mad scientist or a terrorist could want, including a wall of capacitors, none of which were of the rating I needed. So back to Google, who said, "There's an area of Orange Blossom Trail where it starts to go from ugly-industrial to totally sketch. In that creepy region is a place that goes by the name of Acme." Acme is staffed by a grey, long-haired guy who looks like he might be in a cover band at a beach bar on the weekends and a super-tall lanky dude who looks like he might be a refugee from the German techno scene. These gentlemen had the capacitors, for like 28 cents a piece. I only needed two, but I splurged and got four.

Then I tired to remember how to solder something and got those cheap bastards secure in their holes. Then I buttoned the thing back up and was quite pleased to only have two leftover screws when I was done. (Someone needs to tell those Chinese women and children making our monitors that they can save a couple steps.)

Then the test; that all-too-scary moment when you will be revealed for a fool or a hero. I was a hero. Actually, all credit goes to Google and the people who, for whatever reason, offer help at no charge, dispensing their little piece of knowledge on obscure sites so that someone else can save a few bucks. And apologies to the computer techs who didn't get my repair business. And to Best Buy or Target who didn't get to sell me a new monitor. We're all doing what we can in this economy. See you on the soup line.

It's a Cookie and a Cracker - You Can Figure it Out

The design world is (was) buzzing about what Baker Associates did for a couple of iconic junk food products for Target. At one discussion, a dissenter says, "When you mess with classic brands like this it looks more like they were robbed, not cleaned."

I wholeheartedly disagree. I see these packages and I say, "Nice." A few others see it the same.

But my opinion is likely suspect. My ideal kitchen would be all stainless steel with a drain in the floor and coiled hoses coming down from the ceiling to rinse the whole place off after I make a mess. The pantry would be filled with easy-to-identify items like these packages. Those comparing this to Tropicana's much-hissed-at repackaging failure are missing a key point: Tropicana's redesign made the product look generic. These are still very clearly Oreo cookies and Ritz crackers.

I see Target as understanding a good chunk of their clientele; the person who appreciates style but can't afford it. This seems a nod to the whole Michael Graves side of the business. Those with their boxers in a bind, their panties in a wad, their knickers in a twist can take comfort in the fact that Target is calling this an "in and out" for the summer only. That's too bad.

Detroit: You're Doomed

mas grande

Tesla Motors of California apparently got the message that not too many people could handle the $100K+ sticker on their sporty little electric car and are now taking orders for a newer version, the Model S, only half as pricey as the original Roadster. Looks like a promising vehicle, but that's still a big chunk of change to most of us.

I'm seeing beautifully produced TV ads these days for GM and Chrysler, ads that were paid for, I'm sure, with the money those companies got to rescue them. But as I'm looking at their offerings, I'm thinking to myself, "I don't want a computerized car that shows me maps and plays my iPod while warming my ass and sweetly talking to me." I don't care how many configurations the seats fold into. I want to get from Point A to Point B in relative comfort, with a minimal amount of expense in terms of price, maintenance and gas usage. And if it had some sense of style—wow—I'd be impressed. But Detroit can't seem to understand this.

So, go Tesla. After you've made a ton of money selling electric cars to rich people, maybe you can bring out a third model that the common Joe and Jane can afford. And please don't make it look like shit just because it's cheaper. Take a cue from the Target/Michael Graves teaming. Style doesn't have to be expensive.

Cargoes of Gold, Silver, Precious Stones and Pearls

T, The New York Times Style magazine, is filled with ads for stuff a good 99.999% of us will never buy, like a $47.5 million 5th Avenue penthouse, $9,000 sofas and other luxuries that make you shake your head in bemused wonder and simultaneous disgust. I enjoy some of the pictorials of cool architecture, but there is a level of pretentiousness within this magazine that causes me to pick it out of the paper first thing, because I know that every ad within competes with the next, where a simple chair, shoe, stove or clock is treated as a one-of-a-kind museum piece. Maybe I'm just jealous of the exceedingly rich, but I like to believe that if I had millions of dollars, I still wouldn't spend $10,800 on a Pergamena Folding Camp Bed.

So it was kind of nice to see lowly Target take out a detachable 8-panel brochure in this week's edition, highlighting what they call Design for All^® which featured "great design from A to Z."

I'm sure your average Central Park West socialite wouldn't slum at Target unless they had a real emergency and a handy disguise, but the ad artfully conveys that great design need not be expensive. (The item chosen for the letter Q was the Q-tip. A simple design and a great invention.) And if you're the kind of person who looks at my Vietnamese-made rubberwood workstation here at home and determines that I'm a cheap, swamp-dwelling Target shopper who probably still prefers the Levi's^® brand for jeans and spends zero dollars on haircuts, well...you' d be right.

Now, maybe while Target is so focused on cool design that functions well, they can find a new vendor to supply an alternative to those broke-down red plastic ghetto shopping carts. I've yet to push one that didn't have a bad wheel and a weird clunking noise.

Title of this post taken from here.

Just Out of Reach

I don’t remember what agency art director introduced me to Design Within Reach, the very cool catalog for very out of reach furnishings, but they’ve teamed up with one of my favorite American inventions, the Airstream trailer. DWR is for people who don't want to be seen slumming at Target for Michael Graves stuff. And can afford not to. I suppose they are the same people paying multiple millions for a two bedroom apartment in Manhattan.

I’ve always loved Airstream (proven by these CD cover art mockups for yet to be produced music) and have this dream of owning one someday. In fact, I'd like to drive a 40-foot Airstream motorhome pulling a 40-foot Airstream trailer in some sort of 80-foot decadent display of American streamlined coolness. Maybe I’ll settle for a Jeep Wrangler pulling this little DWR Airstream.

But at $50K, DWR’s Airstream will cost about twice as much as the Jeep.

If you're still wanting one, or if you just like to look, here it is.