Congratulations on your accomplishment, Seven. We look forward to publishing your biographical information on a page dedicated entirely to you. Along with your biographical information, we plan to also include in depth information about your poetry, including your motivations, the meaning poetry has in your life, and your personal philosophical point of view. In addition to dedicating a page entirely to you and your personal background, we have also reserved a second complete page that will be used to showcase a new, unpublished poem that you will provide. This means that …

The International Who’s Who in Poetry will feature two full pages dedicated exclusively to Seven Graylands!

..etc, etc..

Before going any further, Seven, let me make one thing clear … you were selected for inclusion in this project based on your unique talent and previous poetic accomplishments. We believe you to be one of the most interesting poets we have encountered, so we have set aside two entire pages that will be devoted exclusively to you and your poetry in this special edition. In this regard you are under no obligation whatsoever to submit any entry fee, any subsidy payment, or to make any purchase of any kind.

..etc, etc..

Seven, please send us your biographical information and new poem right away!

…etc, etc, etc.

It hasn’t been.

The Jacket: I just want a solid, classic style motorcycle jacket. Nothing fancy, but it has to be a real motorcycle jacket and not one of these Wilsons knock-off made to look like a motorcycle jacket jackets. This means the leather should be thick enough to protect the body from flying debris or when sliding over pavement. It should also stop no smaller than a 32 caliber bullet. Removable liner preferred but optional. Same with the waist belt. This is the type of coat that takes 3 years just to break it in. The kind of leather that says “fuck you” to a coat hook and stands on it own on the floor.

The Boots: The classic, rugged engineer boot. Steel toed, thick leather, and a proper sole. Nothing fancy, no extra buckles or trendy bike-bling, just a plain black boot. The leather should be thick enough to protect the ankle if one falls from a motorcycle or needs to wade through a puddle of angry badgers.

I had all day to search the town for these two items. I’ve got cash in my pocket to spend on top quality products made to last for years to come – the jacket for the rest of my life. I am ready to buy.

After a few stops with no luck I decide to head over to the Harley-Davidson store I’ve seen across town. If any place would have such things it would be a shop with a focus on riding.

I’ve never been much of a Harley fan, especially in the last ten years. It seems the only dudes I see on Harleys these days are businessmen out for a weekend zip about town – weather permitting of course. They seem to have become the trendy bike of the season. Something a middle-manager buys to impress his suburban neighbour. Until today I never realized how bad it had gotten.

The Harley used to be the bikers motorcycle. It was rugged, rebellious, loud and proud. You could lay the bike down going 40mph, dust yourself off, hammer the bits back in place and drive off. If you needed a part you could always raid “the ol’ lady’s” washing machine.

The Harley rider was a rough and tumble sort. His scraggy hair, beard and beer belly flying in the wind as he and his mates rode down the coastal highways looking for trouble. If they had the urge to clean their fingernails they used a switchblade. They winged beer bottles at bands they didn’t like or their friends head just for fun. They gave their middle finger to the police and told Honda riders they were shit and told them to buy American.

If anyplace in town is going to have the boot and jacket I want, it will be the Harley-Davidson shop.

I’ve never been to this place before and I have visions of standing in line behind an aging Gypsy Joker picking some new leather saddle bags. I picture having to figure a way to squeeze past the small group of Angels blocking the front door. Perhaps I’ll see some skanky bra-less biker chicks. I’m thinking the place will look like the set of Every Which Way but Loose…

It was more like Everybody Loves Raymond.

The parking lot was filled with minivans. All the shoppers were middle age professional types mostly in mated pairs (some with cute tidy offspring). They wouldn’t bust a beer bottle over their friends head because then they couldn’t recycle it. The only things missing were a kiddie play area and a Starbucks. The shop was clean and new and looked more like a Red Robin or Chili’s than a bike shop.

Sniff-sniff.. is that a hint of vanilla I smell in the air?

Ok. So the shopping experience wasn’t what I expected, they should at least have the stuff I’m looking for. Even with the trendy finishings and yuppie-ish customers it should at least have bike ready gear.

I’m greeted by a young woman who looked more in place behind a new VW bug than on a motorcycle.

Oh, hello Ms Harley shop worker. Yes you can help me. I’m looking for a steel-toe engineer boot. Huh? An engineer boot. E-N-G-I-N-E-E-R. Umm.. it’s a basic black boot. You know, the classic riding boot? No. That is nothing like an engineer boot. No, that’[s more like a motocross boot. It is kind of like this boot but without all the branding, metal bits and extra buckles. Yes. That’s pretty close. Do you have anything with less,. umm.. crap all over it and a steel-toe? Oh, that’s too bad.

Sigh. Poor girl doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

Not only did they not have the boot I was looking for but every boot they had was over branded, cheap and made in China. Not that I have anything against things made in other countries but Harley-Davidson guys were always very gung-ho, made in America types. I just thought it was kind of odd.

I head over to look at jackets. They had a couple of classic motorcycle styles and every single one was covered in eagles, stitching or pseudo bike gang logos and not one thick enough to protect you from road rash or a misplaced knife at a Stones concert. In fact I’d guess someone skilled in wielding Post-it notes could cut you through one of these jackets.

This isn’t a bike shop it’s a fucking fashion show. This isn’t a place where the nomadic rebellious stop, it’s the place where surburbianites hang out with their non-fat, decaf lattes. It’s where the husband finally agrees to getting dog clothes because he thinks the Harley logo will make his wifes Cock-a-poo look more macho.

Easy Rider has been replaced by Lazy Boy. The Harley image of the rebel rider is being printed in fucking China. You can buy Harley branded sweaters for your accessory dog.

Fuck you to the marketing crew at Harley Davidson for pussifing the Harley name.

Like I said above I’ve never been a big Harley fan, but going into this store made me sad.

Harley-Davidson… YOU SUCK.

I dug around on-line for a site that tracked the movements of ISS and ran across heavens-above.com. It contains a rather large database of satellites, when they pass over your house, and where to look for them. A pretty cool website.

It seems what I saw was not ISS but a US military recon satellite. Shhhh. Don’t tell.

Several nights later (being tonight) I thought I’d dig around for software that will track what stars are where, where planets are at the moment, and other neat stuff of that nature.

I found a very nice piece of freeware called Cartes du Ciel. which has about anything one would want in amature star gazing software.

I’d write out the details of this software but I’m a lazy bastard sometimes. Therefore, copy/paste is my friend.

Their website says this:
“This program enables you to draw sky charts, making use of the data in 16 catalogs of stars and nebulae. In addition the position of planets, asteroids and comets are shown.

The purpose of this program is to prepare different sky maps for a particular observation. A large number of parameters permit you to choose specifically or automatically which catalogs to use, the colour and dimension of stars and nebulae, the representation of planets, the display of labels and coordinate grids, the superimposition of pictures, the condition of visibility and more.
These features make this celestial atlas more complete than a conventional planetarium. ”

Worth a look if you’re into this sort of thing.

Now to change the subject.

A few months back I picked up a remote shutter release for my Minolta SLR. This was kind of a hard thing to find locally as it’s not a standard plunger type – it’s an electronic switch. I suppose I could have made one, but like I said above, I can be a lazy bastard sometimes.

I bought the shutter release because I like taking night pictures, which can be tricky without one. When the Hale-Bopp comet was around in 1997 I managed to snap some extended shutter shots using the timer. I set up the shot, set how long I wanted the shutter open, hit the timer and waited. It worked, but remote releases area much easier.

Today I bought a 2x Tele Converter for the Minolta (the kind that fit between the body and the lens – not the kind that screw to the end of the lens). I was hoping if I coupled that with my 70-300mm telephoto lens I’d be able to get some nice moon pictures. I snapped a few 4 second and two second exposures on Kodak Max 800 film. I also tried to grab a shot of Vega and one of Mars. I think those will blur out with the 30 second exposure though.

And, to be ultra-dorky, I took a 3 second exposure digital picture of the Minolta with the 70-300mm fully extended in the middle of a 4 second exposure of the moon. You couldn’t see the camera on my first attempt (black camera, black sky, no light) so the next exposure I hit it with the blue LED light I have on my keychain.

That dot in the sky under the lens is Mars

Morse Code via Internet using,. Umm.. MSM???

What the hell? If your ham radio is down and you need to communicate with your ham buddy on the other side of hamland, and decide to fire up MSM messenger, JUST TYPE!

Now I know there is a hamgeek protocol that says every time you communicate with another hamgeek you must use the most outdated form of technology to do it. But give me a break. You’re already on-line. You and your hamgeek buddy already have MSM installed. Just type your message already.

If you are going to head down this silly path why don’t you phone your hamgeek buddy up and “beep-beep-be-be-be” over the phone at him?

Ok, so perhaps I’m a little sensitive about hamgeek protocol because someone I knows ex-boyfriend was a hamgeek, and he and his friends were the only real hamgeeks I’ve met. But I have to say they didn’t do much to convince I need to fill my extra bedroom with radios.

“Well Seven, if the telephone system and electricity go off line, who do you think is going to help the police and medics? It’s ham radio operators, that’s who.”

Perhaps other ham radio operators, but not any of you dorks. None of you have POWER GENERATORS. You’ll be off line like everyone else.

Oh, and for you Hamgeeks out there, I’ll repeat this in Morse so you fully understand how much I think you suck.

…. – - .–. —… -..-. -..-. — — .-. … . -.-. — -.. . — -. .– . -… .-.-.- …. — — . … – . .- -.. .-.-.- -.-. — — -..-. .. -. -.. . -..- .-.-.- …. – — .-.. / .. / .-. . .- -.. / – …. .. … / – — -.. .- -.– / .- -. -.. / .. – / — .- -.. . / — . / -.. — / — -. . / — ..-. / – …. — … . / ..-. ..- -. -. -.– / – .. -.-. -.- -..-. … …. .. …- . .-. / – …. .. -. –. … .-.-.- / .-.. .. -.- . / .– …. . -. / -.– — ..- / .-. . .- .-.. .-.. -.– / …. .- …- . / – — / …. .- …- . / .- / .–. .. … … / .- -. -.. / .– …. . -. / -.– — ..- / ..-. .. -. .- .-.. .-.. -.– / -.. — / -.– — ..- .-. / .– …. — .-.. . / -… — -.. -.– / -.. — . … / – …. .. … / –.- ..- .. .-. -.- -.– / … .–. .- –.. .-.-.- / — — .-. … . / -.-. — -.. . / …- .. .- / .. -. – . .-. -. . – / ..- … .. -. –. –..– .-.-.- / ..- — – .-.-.- .-.-.- / — … — ..–.. ..–.. ..–.. / .– …. .- – / – …. . / …. . .-.. .-.. ..–.. / .. ..-. / -.– — ..- .-. / …. .- — / .-. .- -.. .. — / .. … / -.. — .– -. / .- -. -.. / -.– — ..- / -. . . -.. / – — / -.-. — — – ..- -. .. -.-. .- – . / .– .. – …. / -.– — ..- .-. / …. .- — / -… ..- -.. -.. -.– / — -. / – …. . / — – …. . .-. / … .. -.. . / — ..-. / …. .- — .-.. .- -. -.. –..– / .- -. -.. / -.. . -.-. .. -.. . / – — / ..-. .. .-. . / ..- .–. / — … — / — . … … . -. –. . .-. –..– / .— ..- … – / – -.– .–. . / -. — .– / .. / -.- -. — .– / – …. . .-. . / .. … / .- / …. .- — –. . . -.- / .–. .-. — – — -.-. — .-.. / – …. .- – / … .- -.– … / . …- . .-. -.– / – .. — . / -.– — ..- / -.-. — — – ..- -. .. -.-. .- – . / .– .. – …. / .- -. — – …. . .-. / …. .- — –. . . -.- / -.– — ..- / — ..- … – / ..- … . / – …. . / — — … – / — ..- – -.. .- – . -.. / ..-. — .-. — / — ..-. / – . -.-. …. -. — .-.. — –. -.– / – — / -.. — / .. – .-.-.- / -… ..- – / –. .. …- . / — . / .- / -… .-. . .- -.- .-.-.- / -.– — ..- .—-. .-. . / .- .-.. .-. . .- -.. -.– / — -. -….- .-.. .. -. . .-.-.- / -.– — ..- / .- -. -.. / -.– — ..- .-. / …. .- — –. . . -.- / -… ..- -.. -.. -.– / .- .-.. .-. . .- -.. -.– / …. .- …- . / — … — / .. -. … – .- .-.. .-.. . -.. .-.-.- / .— ..- … – / – -.– .–. . / -.– — ..- .-. / — . … … .- –. . / .- .-.. .-. . .- -.. -.– .-.-.- / .. ..-. / -.– — ..- / .- .-. . / –. — .. -. –. / – — / …. . .- -.. / -.. — .– -. / – …. .. … / … .. .-.. .-.. -.– / .–. .- – …. / .– …. -.– / -.. — -. .—-. – / -.– — ..- / .–. …. — -. . / -.– — ..- .-. / …. .- — –. . . -.- / -… ..- -.. -.. -.– / ..- .–. / .- -. -.. / .-..-. -… . . .–. -….- -… . . .–. -….- -… . -….- -… . -….- -… . .-..-. / — …- . .-. / – …. . / .–. …. — -. . / .- – / …. .. — ..–.. / — -.- –..– / … — / .–. . .-. …. .- .–. … / .. .—-. — / .- / .-.. .. – - .-.. . / … . -. … .. – .. …- . / .- -… — ..- – / …. .- — –. . . -.- / .–. .-. — – — -.-. — .-.. / -… . -.-. .- ..- … . / … — — . — -. . / .. / -.- -. — .– … / . -..- -….- -… — -.– ..-. .-. .. . -. -.. / .- – .- … / .- / …. .- — –. . . -.- –..– / .- -. -.. / …. . / .- -. -.. / …. .. … / ..-. .-. .. . -. -.. … / .– . .-. . / – …. . / — -. .-.. -.– / .-. . .- .-.. / …. .- — –. . . -.- … / .. .—-. …- . / — . – .-.-.- / -… ..- – / .. / …. .- …- . / – — / … .- -.– / – …. . -.– / -.. .. -.. -. .—-. – / -.. — / — ..- -.-. …. / – — / -.-. — -. …- .. -. -.-. . / .. / -. . . -.. / – — / ..-. .. .-.. .-.. / — -.– / . -..- – .-. .- / -… . -.. .-. — — — / .– .. – …. / .-. .- -.. .. — … .-.-.- / .-..-. .– . .-.. .-.. / … . …- . -. –..– / .. ..-. / – …. . / – . .-.. . .–. …. — -. . / … -.– … – . — / .- -. -.. / . .-.. . -.-. – .-. .. -.-. .. – -.– / –. — / — ..-. ..-. / .-.. .. -. . –..– / .– …. — / -.. — / -.– — ..- / – …. .. -. -.- / .. … / –. — .. -. –. / – — / …. . .-.. .–. / – …. . / .–. — .-.. .. -.-. . / .- -. -.. / — . -.. .. -.-. … ..–.. / .. – .—-. … / …. .- — / .-. .- -.. .. — / — .–. . .-. .- – — .-. … –..– / – …. .- – .—-. … / .– …. — .-.-.- .-..-. / .–. . .-. …. .- .–. … / — – …. . .-. / …. .- — / .-. .- -.. .. — / — .–. . .-. .- – — .-. … –..– / -… ..- – / -. — – / .- -. -.– / — ..-. / -.– — ..- / -.. — .-. -.- … .-.-.- / -. — -. . / — ..-. / -.– — ..- / …. .- …- . / .–. — .– . .-. / –. . -. . .-. .- – — .-. … .-.-.- / -.– — ..- .—-. .-.. .-.. / -… . / — ..-. ..-. / .-.. .. -. . / .-.. .. -.- . / . …- . .-. -.– — -. . / . .-.. … . .-.-.-

From Seven’s Dictionary for the 21st Century:
Cellularpath – Mental disorder marked usually by egocentric and antisocial activity.

——–

What is with cell phones and people who feel they need them permanently attached to the side of their big fat blabbering heads?

I’m waiting in line for coffee at a somewhat busy espresso shop. The woman in front of me is on her cell phone the entire time she’s in line. When it came time for her to order, she put her index finger in the air to signal the clerk to hold for a second. Cell phone woman continued to gab for almost another minute before she ordered. Not to say she didn’t try to order during that time. She pointed at things and tried to quickly whisper her order to the clerk. The guy behind the counter just stared blankly at her. Now, this wasn’t a Miss Important Businesswoman call, nor was she a medic walking someone through the Heimlich maneuver. She also wasn’t on the phone with ‘lil Billy who fell down a well and needed someone to talk with while the workers above gassed up the backhoe,. this was gossip. Hey! Cellularpath! Let me teach you a little saying. It goes like this “I’m in the middle of a busy shop and I need to order in a minute, LET ME CALL YOU BACK”

Yesterday I’m out to dinner with my family. After 5 minutes of being seated I noticed a woman at a table of four on her cell phone. 10 minutes later our food arrives, this woman is still flapping her lips into the phone. We are finished eating and our check arrives, I look over, yup, still talking. Two people at her table get up to leave, she quickly says goodbye without removing the phone from her face. So now it’s just her and the other guy and he’s looking around the restaurant, looking at his fingernails, picking his teeth, straightening the little sugar packets, and taking the final sip of his ice water.. for the eighth time.. This rude bitch just keeps on talking. She finally hangs up about 30 seconds before they both leave.

I walked into the grocery store right behind a woman and her son. I bet he was about 8 years old. She was on the phone as she entered the store. As I was making my way around the store I noticed her in the produce section. I was picking out some onions, she was still talking away. As I was in check out, I noticed her walk up to the line across from mine. She’s STILL on the phone. The only thing I saw her say to her son the entire time was “no” and “don’t touch”. I left the store before her, but out of curiosity I waited in my car to see this woman leave. Sure enough she left the store on her phone, packed her things into the car on her phone and drove away STILL on the phone. I remember having nice conversations with my father at the grocery store. Does the average kid today need his own cell phone and hope the parental unit has call waiting for that conversation to happen these days?

I was driving to work the other day. I notice one guy at the street corner talking away. On the highway it seemed like every fifth car had some lame ass looser with stupid little flip phones creating alpha-numeric impressions on their cellularpathic cheeks. Hey Shitdick, before you cut me off next time let me teach you a little saying. It goes like this “I’m operating a rather heavy machine traveling at 65 miles per hour. Because my brain doesn’t allow adequate multi tasking, LET ME CALL YOU BACK”

Tonight my family and I went to the mall shopping for a coffee grinder for my brother in law. After a bit we decide to head over to the “food court” and have a quick snack. 15% of the people sitting at the tables are either on their cell phones or checking their messages on their cell phones. One table had two teens sharing the Happy Panda Stir-fry Flavoured Starchy Noodle Plate and they are BOTH on their cell phones. I’d like to think they were talking to each other, but I know they weren’t.

I started watching people in the mall. Perhaps more then 60% of the people own a cell phone I can see. Their phones are strapped to their belt, poking out of a purse, jammed into a back pocket or slapped firmly to the face of some wagging tongued looser. I even spotting one guy who had TWO cell phones on his belt. People are walking around everywhere talking on their phones. Everywhere I fucking look someone has one of these fucking things glued to their face.

There is something about a cell phone that creates a one-way mirrored bubble around these people. This bubble doesn’t allow them to use their peripheral vision nor notice they just stopped cold in the middle of a crowded aisle with a row of people right behind them. Hey fuck for brains, let me teach you a little saying. “I’m operating two legs attached to rubber soled foot protectors. Because my brain doesn’t allow adequate multi tasking, LET ME CALL YOU BACK”

I wonder what would happen if you herded a bunch of walking Cellularpaths into a large room with enough visual distractions? Would they all stop moving? Would they walk in their own little tiny circles? Perhaps over time they’d all start some sort of mobile user tide. All slowly moving clockwise around the perimeter of the room until one stops, which would cause them all to stop. And then, very slowly, they all start oozing forward again until the next one stops. Rinse. Repeat. Of course by the time they’re all herded into the room I would have started pumping the gas in -so I guess we’ll never know.

The thing is none of these people are saying anything important. If you listen in on the conversations of these poor saps 90 percent of the time you hear the same cellularpathic phrase – “OH MY GAWD. I KNOW!”. Or the second most popular phrase uttered into cell phones “Did you hear/know what (insert name) said/did?”

The two teens eating the Happy Panda Stir-fry Flavoured Starchy Noodle Plate should have been gossiping with each other. Instead they’re on the phone with two other people saying “Did you hear what so-and-so did?” and the other saying “Oh MY GAWD. I KNOW!”

I saw a crazy guy talking to himself waving his arms around, then I noticed he had some fancy wireless cell phone hanging on his ear. DAMN IT! Don’t you moronic cell phone minions take the joy of seeing crazy people shouting about the CIA bugging their underpants away from me. Now I have to stick around and make sure I don’t hear “Oh My Gawd. I know” in between the other nonsensical ramblings just to make sure they’re REALLY crazy.

I think I’m going to market a device that jams all cell phone signals in a 30 foot radius. I’m going to mount them in hats, umbrellas, and t-shits that say “Oh My GAWD. I KNOW!” In fact, I’m going to mount a super powerful one of these devices on the back of my car. Then when I pass these dimfucks on the highway, one hundred people all lose signal at once and as they all reach for redial I’ll enjoy seeing them play 65 mile per hour bumber cars in my rear view mirror as a cackle loudly and crank up Blondie’s “Call Me” to eleven. Crash and burn cellularpathic, Nokia looser.

But what will it take to blow that house down? Those little pigs built a pretty solid house of mass distribution, quality products and the best legal team money can buy. They have the contacts, they have a guide book, they have proven marketing tactics, manufacturing houses, recording studios, access to large and small venues, media advertising, and worse of all they have massive cash flow. So if they don’t own it now, they will if they want it. The independent artists are far from being a threatening wolf to them. We are more like a handful of gerbils in clown suits. We are unorganized, unsure of what we are doing, short of funding, lacking a process and method and we seem just as afraid of change as the piggies in the giant glass and steel offices of Big Label Inc.

But guess what? Change is happening now. Little by little things are evolving.

When you think back just a few short years ago, the major labels owned the music industry. Major distribution was only found through their record contracts. The few that tried without a major contract were the ones that had a few $100,000 to spare for their venture. Even still, public radio airplay was hard to come by. So you could get your music in the stores but no one had heard it to know if they wanted to buy it.

Along comes the internet. A easy way to reach out to people from all over the world. In just a few years it begins to undermine how the music industry thinks about music distribution. They had no idea 10 years ago we would be able to transfer a music file across a telephone line to someone on the other side of the globe all for the cost of a few pennies. Of course they see the signs, but don’t see a threat.

In the meantime: The indies see this method and exploit the hell out of it. No longer are we sitting in our basements duping tape copies and folding xeroxed J-cards. We aren’t sending letters out to every indie music rag looking for a venue to sell our products through mail-order. We aren’t gumming out mouths up with the glue of 1000 stamps. We use the current system and force the evolution of music distribution.

10 years ago you didn’t hear my music. I was writing it then. I was making tapes and selling them. But did you hear it? Nope. How could you? I didn’t have distribution to your part of the world. But now I’m connected to the largest network in the world. I’ve sold CD’s in about half the worlds nations. This website receives views from all over the world. Everyday someone new hears our music. If I said that same thing to you 10 years ago you’d either call me a liar or perhaps think I was some reclusive rock star. But I’m just your average Joe. If I told you 10 years ago that any average Joe would be doing the same thing, you’d say I was nuts.

With new technology it is fairly cheap to produce a quality product. Small companies all over the world are putting up websites and outlets where you can take your music and produce a full album on CD. Full colour graphics, printed CD’s, inserts, packaging, shipping, everything. All for little or no money down. Anyone with Internet access anywhere in the world can buy your CD. So not only has transferring music across the planet become easy, so has marketing a full blown CD. If you already have a product, there are a million other companies out there who will be more then happy to sell it for you.

Independent Artist: “Houston. We have distribution”
Houston: “Ahhh. Roger that.”

The musician that came of age with the Internet may not realize HOW different it is now. I would have been thrilled when I was 18 to sell a album to someone I didn’t know in another country, let alone the next city. I got a small deal when I was around 18 with a company in New York. The pay sucked and the distribution wasn’t all that good -even the product was a little shoddy. This company sold music through mail-order. They had adverts in several hundred small music magazines throughout the US and a few rags in Europe. I think at the end of it all I had sold about 40-50 copies. I made next to nothing on it. But I was happy to get my music out there. Be heard. But if you ask an 18 year old musician today if someone from outside of their local area had heard their music, they just shrug and say “yeah, of course”. They don’t think twice about someone in Japan or Australia or Germany hearing their music. It happens everyday.

This is how you spot evolution. When it becomes commonplace.

Along comes Napster and other P2P systems and the music industry soils itself. Now they are forced to wake up to the evolution of music distribution because it’s cutting into their monopoly. Even though they claim P2P networks damage their sales and profit, it seems every other report on the matter says otherwise. CD sales are up during the heyday of Napster. The music industry doesn’t want to loose control over distribution. So they chip away at Napster with their legal pickaxes until it breaks.

I used Napster from time to time. I mostly used it to find all the old music that was out of print. I honestly don’t see how this hurt the big labels. They refuse to print this old music because the profit margin isn’t there. They also own the copyrights so the musician who wrote it can’t distribute it without seeing a good profit. The music is now dead and buried. The only reason it still survives is because of the “fan” who happened to have bought the LP or tape many years ago and went through the hassle of dumping it into a mp3 file and sharing it with the rest of the world. The big labels shake their mighty fists at the fans screaming “How dare they! Off with their heads!”

The only problem, the big labels cut off Napsters head and another one grows back in it’s place.

So music distribution has evolved. The method is in place. What next? The Internet has proved itself as a form of transferring music files anywhere in the world. But the people want more. How about an old tyme radio show?

Every day people are putting on homebrew “radio shows”. The shows are wild and sloppy. With limited bandwidth, the music often sounds like it’s coming from an old AM radio. No one controls the DJ’s and the whole affair is still somewhat underground. It hasn’t become a real threat to profit watching corporations so there are no restraints. Some shows are playing copyrighted music but they aren’t doing it in malice, they are playing it to promote the music they like. They want others to be introduced to the music that moves them. They do it for fun, they do it out of love. One day some hungry VP of marking will go after Internet radio in an effort to make their corporation more money. Perhaps they’ll speckle Internet radio with the audio version of web page banner adverts. Perhaps they’ll try to control who plays what, when and where. Whatever happens I guarantee something will happen.

So is this the heyday people will talk about?

Internet radio is easy. If you want to put on a “real” radio show you need a few thousand dollars in equipment, in the USA you have a barrage of FCC red tape a licence fees. You need to understand wattage and broadcasting concepts so your radio show doesn’t get aired through your neighbors microwave oven every time he heats a frozen burrito. For Internet radio you need a minimum of two things. A little bit of bandwidth and a listener. Internet radio is still newborn. It’s still in diapers and eating mushy food. But it’s learning to walk real quick.

But what will the major music industry do about the Indie radio shows -like the ones that air on Ampcast.com? It’s all indie music. The DJ’s do it because it’s fun and they want to play the music they found and enjoy on Ampcast. Once again, the shows can be wild and sloppy but they are far more entertaining then anything I can find on my radio dial. Perhaps the music industry will leave this arena alone? Yeah right. Don’t count on it. Every listener spending an hour or two a day tuning into Internet radio is a listener NOT listening to their product -the very product they make money off of and use to pay for their vacation homes in Florida. When it becomes more of a threat to them, something will happen. They will want to win these ears. I think it’s too early to say how they will go after these shows. But until then, I say enjoy them. Today’s Internet radio will be the story you tell your grandkids.

Old Guy: “Back in my day anyone could have an Internet radio show. It was crazy and wild. People even said bad works and played songs called ‘shitting in the sink’. And you would listen for hours and never hear an advert.”
Starry Eyed Kid: “Wow grandpa! Tell me more!”

Considering Internet radio is only in the “AM” radio phase of life, we still have a little way to go before the infrastructure is in place for FM radio. Then it’s only a matter of time before the whole mess upgrades to sound AND images. Just think. In a few years not only will there be homebrew FM quality radio stations, there just might be thousands of homebrew TV stations as well. We have the technology now. The problem is the audience doesn’t have it. People don’t have the broadband for it. But they will. And when they do we will have more silly stories for our grandkids.

We’ve evolved how music is distributed and we’ve invented a new form of radio and promotion of music. Now what?

There is another hurdle that indie music must overcome. How does the indie artist make people understand their music is just as valuable as the music Big Labels Inc. put out? Go into any record store today. You’ll see hundreds of people willing to plop down $15-20 dollars for a “real” CD, but when it comes to indie music they have a hard time paying just $6 or $7. They seem reluctant to pay even a dollar for a song as they sip on their four dollar coffee. Why? Because it’s been free for several years. The indie musician was just happy having people hear the music and they offered everything out for free. They are convinced it should be free because that is the only way people will bother to listen. Not true. It is because “free” has become a habit.

The indie musicians saw a boon in Internet marketing. Large servers and huge bandwidth pipes were being spoon fed and kept alive by dot.com ventures and the advertizing dollar. It was the way of the future -for a few years anyway. This did damage to the way consumers looked at the Internet. They want free e-mail, free software, free website hosting, and the worse of all for the indie musician, free music. Ask someone outside of the loop how places like theglobe.com could afford a rack of servers and a thousand dollars worth of bandwidth a month without ever selling a product. They won’t have a clue. Ask them if they would be upset if Geocities started charging $5 a month to host their silly website about their cat. I’m sure they would. The user wants it all for free. But nothing is free. This is the hurdle we are at. This is the next evolution. People need to come to terms that the Internet is not entirely free. It costs money to run just like everything else. The people behind the scenes have bills to pay just like you or I.

As the way music is distributed on-line gets more common place I think people will begin to shift their way of thinking. They will get more used to buying products off the Internet as the free items slowly go the way of the dinosaur and become extinct. The Internet advertizing gold rush of the late 90′s has dried up and people that want to provide product on-line have to make it turn a profit – at the very least break even. No one is willing to sell everything they own, cash out their 401k plan, put a second mortgage on their home and not put their children through college just so some indie artist they don’t know can offer their music on-line for free. If they do, that person either has a great deal of love for music or is a fool. I’m going with choice number two.

The last thing the major labels want to see is the indie musician starting to take another chunk of their profit pie. If it becomes too much of a threat they will attack the concept. You can see hints of this already if you look around. The consumer is having a hard time accepting they will have to pay for what used to be free. The indie musician is also convinced no one is willing to buy their music.

So where to go from here? We have managed to move this far. We have already overcome steps which just a few short years ago were unheard of.

Do we evolve or die?

The music revolution will not be televised. It will be webcast and streamable at 24 to 128kbps.

And I’m already tuned in.

The direcTV guy came by today to install our new DVR. A pretty simple install as I already installed the telephone line, and the amp/switch box is about 5 feet below where the extra line needs to run. So all the installer needs to do is give us the new DVR receiver, run one coax line, plug it all in and leave.

BUT NOOOOOOOO!

First, he shows up two hours late. I expected as much so I’ve already resided myself to working on some projects around the house. After arriving, he spends a fair amount of time apparently doing “prep work”. I don’t have a clue what he was doing to tell you the truth. But he spent a good 45 minutes doing it. He then decides to install new face plates on our coax and telephone jacks behind the television. Granted, if he’s going to install an extra line, might as well make it tidy by giving us a dual coax face plate (The Tivo needs two lines from the dish so you can watch one show and record another).

This is when the install turns sour.

First, he says he has to go to another install and he will return to finish mine in a few hours. He did say he would get our system going with the one line before he leaves. When he returns he’ll run the second line and finish up.

Right at the moment he’s got his ass hanging out from behind the television he professes to me he’s a Jehovah’s Witness. He proceeds to inform me all about his church, his beliefs and how his life improved after converting to Jehovah’s Witnessism. He says had pretty much written off getting married, but apparently thanks to Jehovah’s Witnessism, he’s found true love. By golly that god fellow is a swell chap.

I’m not really in the mood to get into a big debate about religion. I’m not religious in the least and I find Christians attempting to convert me extremely rude. So, I excused myself to continue working on my project in the other room. In a few minutes Jehovah Bob calls me back to ask a question about our DirecTV service, which was just a sneaky ploy to get me back into the room for more of his Jehovah’s Witnessing. He asks me a very direct question “How do you feel about this stuff?” -meaning religion, church, etc. I tell his straight out “I have read the bible, I’ve read about various Christian religions, and have decided I do not and can not subscribe to Christianity.” I was foolishly thinking this would clue him into getting back to my install and away from Jehovah’s Witnessing. WRONG!

He starts back in. Once again I tell him I do not subscribe to ANY religion and excuse myself.

Moments later I’m called back into the room by Jehovah Bob and asked another stupid question about my service, which, of course, moves very quickly towards religion. By this time my daughter has returned home from school and is doing her homework at the kitchen table (within earshot of this fucking maniac). She keeps looking at me with a puzzled look on her face. In a few minutes she gets up and hands me a note (she’s 12 and passing notes are very important to a 12 year old). The note reads:

“Is he supposed to be doing his job or talking about religion?”

I almost died. What a funny kid.

At the time of this writing it is now two hours past when he said he’d be back -currently 8:00 pm. If I knew DirecTV was going to expect me to waste all day with what the installer has done so far, I could have done it myself in 5 minutes. Let’s see. Unplug old receiver, plug in new receiver, attach phone line. DONE!

Look. When a Jehovah’s Witness comes to my door Watchtower in hand, I have the option of letting them in to talk religion. You sneaky little fuckers have no business Jehovah’s Witnessing to me while doing a hired service in my house. I tried to be very polite and explain I did not witness Jehovah, Jesus, Andrew, Bob or anyone else. The only thing I ever witnessed was someone getting run over by a car, but that’s different. You sneaky little fuckers stay out of my house unless invited to enter to witness. If you enter to fix my toilet, install the DVR, paint my living room or clean my carpet, keep your fucking mouth shut about your religion! It is rude, unprofessional and quite frankly pissing me off.

I don’t hangout at your church talking about my house so don’t come to my house and talk about your church.

I’ve now called DirecTV and complained about their in-house Jehovah’s Witness religious services and their half-assed install procedures. I told them if this fucknut comes back and Jehovah’s Witnesses to me I’m dumping their service on the spot.

—–

so there you go. My install story. The follow up is I managed to speak with DirecTV, complained, and they offered HBO for $2 a month for the next 6 months. I took it.

I still think I could have handled his questions better. Perhaps something like this.

Installer: So tell me,. how you feel about this stuff?

Me: Well,. during the Rectification of the Vuldronaii, the Traveler came as a large and moving Torb! Then, during the Third Reconciliation of the Last of the Meketrex Supplicants, they chose a new form for him, that of a giant Sloar! Many Shubs and Zuuls knew what it was to be roasted in the depths of a Sloar that day, I can tell you!