Momnesia

Dear Netflix -

Like the rest of your customers, I received the letter from your CEO, Reed Hastings, yesterday:

The apology letter detailed the company's future plans to separate your DVD and streaming services, to rename your DVD service Qwikster, and to charge for them, separately. Well, on behalf of your customers, I would like to respond:

You guys are so stupid. "Qwikster?" What 50-year-old intern poring over 90s-era case studies came up with that name?

Look, you went about this the wrong way to begin with. You should have explained to customers about the difficult new contact negotiations the company was facing, and the reluctance of major studios to give up their streaming revenue in exchange for a flat fee, instead of letting business reporters do it for you. They want individual branding and extra compensation, like cable channels offer - nevermind that cable TV is being rendered extinct by the market penetration of new technologies like your very own streaming service and that it has the highest rate of customer dissatisfaction of any service industry in America, even behind cell phone companies. Basically, in an age of both innovation and austerity, studios are pitching a temper tantrum on the boardroom floor.

The Netflix CEO likes to say that actions speak louder than words, and that's great. A worthwhile product and great customer service go a long way. But if the only action customers can see and feel is a 60 percent rate hike, in the middle of a market that is - for now - still controlled by cable television, words become necessary.

Netflix, you had a great deal of brand loyalty, and you squandered it by not remembering your place in the market. Yes, you are still cheaper than cable. But you are still an ancillary service that most households carry in addition to cable - not the primary, stand-alone content provider for American households. You are still the scrappy upstart yapping at bloated, gluttonous media companies like Time Warner. You are democracy, capitalism and innovation. They are oligarchy, monopolization and status quo. You are not yet a major force in contract negotiations. Know your role and use it. We look forward to your future.

I am one of those few households that uses you as the primary content provider. I don't carry cable because I find it less reliable than my 6-year-old's memory for chore lists. I won't change my service for now, because you are still cheaper than cable - and I like the BBC serial content you provide - thanks for "Downton Abbey," "MI-5" and "Lost in Austen." But you all have to get your crap together. Nobody wants YET ANOTHER bill (really, two bills every month instead of one?), especially from a company (seriously, "Qwikster?") that sounds like a two-bit gas station."

So, I had a new post all ready to go... but then I stumbled upon an education article in the New York Times this week that fascinated me - particularly this passage about teaching logic and critical thinking skills:

When I asked Bogin to explain Shchedrovitsky, he asked a question. “Does 2 + 2 = 4? No! Because two cats plus two sausages is what? Two cats. Two drops of water plus two drops of water? One drop of water.”

From there, the theories became more complex. In practice, though, the philosophy meant that Bogin delighted in barraging children with word problems and puzzles to force them to think broadly. It was the opposite of the rote memorization of the Soviet system.

At dinnertime, the kids taunted me with riddles. “Ten crows are sitting on a fence,” Arden announced. “A cat pounces and eats one crow. How many are left?” “Umm, nine,” I said, fearing a trap. “No, none!” she gleefully responded. “Do you really think that after one crow is eaten, the others are going to stick around?” 

I kind of want to move to Russia just to enroll Emmie in this school! Anyway, it's a fascinating read. Take a look at it.

"Are those Reese's Peanut Butter eggs, or just chocolate?" a pregnant M.L. asked.
"They're some of each. But we're not telling you which is which," I grinned.
"That's okay. I'll just eat them all."

Augusta, Ga. - Momnesia has new information from Charlaine Harris of Sookie Stackhouse and "True Blood" fame!

Yes, jealous bitches! That's right. I scored this interview. You may touch me.

Actually, Ms. Harris may have been the nicest, most dryly funny person I've ever interviewed on the phone. She's a Southern lady, after all, and after 29 years of publishing fiction books, has learned a deft way of handling interviewers.

When I called, she was running behind schedule - a rarity for her, she said. But she was picking up around the house before a portrait painter arrived. He has a technique where he takes famous writers and paints them in the guise of old masterpieces. His idea for her is "Death of Marat," by David.

"But I'm not going to be naked in the bath tub, so we're still negotiating that," she said, with an audible grin.


She spent about 30 minutes answering questions from readers of The Metro Spirit and Metro Augusta Parent, as well as Facebook friends and friends from years back who came out of the woodwork to satisfy their curiosity. The story ran in the Jan. 20 edition of The Metro Spirit, but I've included a few outtakes here.

Twenty-nine years is a long time to keep writing. What keeps you motivated as a writer?

I love doing it, and I'm not really good at anything else. I've always been a terrible employee. If I didn't do this, I'd have to find something else to justify my existence.

How would you characterize your career?

I got very lucky. I took a class from Shannon Ravenel, who of course is now the editor of Algonquin Press, but had just left Houghton Mifflin while her husband was doing an internship. She was teaching a (college) class on creative writing to make a little money on the side while she figured out what she was going to do.

Harris wrote her first book, "Sweet and Deadly," while a student in the class. Ravenel liked it, and was able to get it into the hands of the right people.

And how would you characterize your writing motivations? Are you drawn to characters, plots, immersing yourself in a certain universe?

I would say immersing myself in a universe. If I have to choose, I say that I am character-driven. Because my plots develop as I'm writing. How are the characters going to be affected? What's their growth trajectory going to be?

What do you think of the "True Blood" series?

I think of the books and the television series as two completely different animals. I like being surprised by what I see on the screen. It keeps it fresh for me. But Alan Ball doesn't tell me how to write the books, and I don't tell him how to write the series.

I love Tara being black. I wish I'd thought of that. And I love Jessica. I wish I'd thought of that. I really like those choices, and I can see where they're going and how they fit.

I also love Lafayette. In the books, he wasn't as flamboyant. But if he had been, and if I'd had Nelsan [Ellis, who plays the character], Lafayette would have lived.


Momnesia will post more from the interview later. But it's not fair to post everything before the story prints in The Metro Spirit. I have to give them a chance to share in the awesomeness.

Augusta, Ga. - I seem to have the wrong fax number, and I need to fax over a contract to a client, so I call over to the main desk.

"Hi, I'm so sorry to bother you, but may I have your fax number, please?"
"We don't accept faxes."

"Oh, no, I mean, I was trying to fax a contract to (xxx)."
"Yes, but we don't accept faxes."

"Um... ever?"
"Not from the public."

Who ISN'T the public?!

"Okay, well, I was just talking to (xxx) and she gave me the wrong number, I think."
"Yes, that's because we don't accept faxes from the public."

"No, she has a signed contract with us, and I just wanted to fax her over a copy."
"To who?"
"To (xx)"
"Oh, well, she gave you the wrong number."

(sigh)

"Yes. Could you give me the correct number?"
"I'll transfer you."

Oh, okay. I'll just ask her for the number again. Just then, I hear a high-pitched SQUEAAALL!

She transferred me to the fax machine!

Augusta, GA. - I'm trying to explain ad changes to H.Y., and muddying things pretty darn well.

"So, can we just use the banner they sent?" she asks.

"Yeah, with modifications, that will work. Because all advertising has to be approved by Charlaine Harris' people, and the banner has already been approved."

"Okay, good, because I'm still opening it. It's locked up my computer because it's so frickin' huge. Whoever built must have done it in GiantLand with no regard for us wee humans."

Augusta, Ga. - Scott comes shuffling in with a coffee mug and a wry grin.

"You remember how I told you we had a month's worth of newspapers coming?" he says.

"Um, yeah...?"

"Well, they gave us a week."

"Really? I haven't seen it."

"At the old house. Even though I gave them the new address."

Awesome.

Augusta, Ga. -

This headline caps an Associated Press filing about unspent money.

"Unspect bailout cash to renew spending fight"

And I'm sure Margaret Woodard would be surprised to hear that her title has been changed to the ExecTUVIE Director.

"Authority proposes parking meters for downtown Augusta"

I brought Krispie Kreme doughnuts to the office today, and everyone was engrossed in their meetings when I came in.

"Doughnuts!" I sang, and put the two dozen on the middle console.

No one moved. The sales department was pulling contacts and buzzing around the next deadline. Edit was talking about feedback from the new issue. Graphics was having a meeting in the conference room.

Are you kidding me? This is an office that practically mowed down a 9-year-old selling candy bars yesterday - and while I love me some dark almond, I have to say that, in all honesty, they aren't really the "world's finest."

I picked up the phone and dialed the intercom.

"We have doughnuts. I repeat: We. Have. Doughnuts."

A door clicked open and the entire graphics team filed out of the conference, sheepish grins on their faces.

"We literally stopped in the middle of a sentence," Dave laughed.

Alice picks up a wad of flesh-colored cloth: "What is this?"

"That's my son's costume," Dave replies. "He's going to be a muscle-man."

Alice slips it on, to comic effect. The six-pack abs sit up on her chest, making her look like the triple-boob lady from "Total Recall."

There was some discussion about the possibility of him going as Tupac Shakur, but the idea was rejected. However, they are going to draw tattoos on the bodysuit.

"That reminds me of a tattoo I saw on the website Ugliest Tattoos of Biggie and Tupac, but they were birds... like one was red and one was blue... and it was weird," Alice says.

"That is odd," Dave says.

"Why would you make them into animals in the first place?" I ask. "Ooh, unless they were Beta fish."

AUGUSTA, GA. - An early bathroom run, and I pop into the kitchen for a sip of water.
"Hey, (mumble mumble mumble)," my husband says, from the bedroom.
I go see what he wants.
"What, honey?"
"There's... just... lights everywhere," he moans.
"Psh! One light. And it was on for two seconds," I say, burrowing back under the comforter.
"I'm just trying to sleep in."
"Well, it's 4:50," I say, knowing he has to start making beat calls and doing traffic runs, soon.
"I know. But I'm not getting up until I have to."
"When's that?" I ask.
"I'm not waking up for 10 more minutes."

I think my laughter woke him up, anyway.

"What did you think of the headline?" A.C. asks.

"What headline?" I ask, on the way to the ladies' room.

"I'm not going to tell you!" A.C. chides me, motioning towards the creative director's desk.

"Now I gotta walk all the way over - oh, yeah, I like that. 'Headline.' That's a great idea," I hold up a copy of the proof sheet with two of the four members of The Avett Brothers on the cover. It's the first draft, with the specs still printed on it. "And this subhead! 'Subhead should be 20 point blah blah blah...' Yeah. I think that will really draw people in."

"Shut up!" she laughs.

"So what's the headline?"

"The Other Avett Brothers."

"Oh," I say, nothing getting it (until I just now typed this. Oops. I think it should have been "The Avett Brothers From Another Mother." Har!). "The actual brothers wouldn't talk to you?"

"No; I talked to them last time," she glared.

A.W. laughed: "Stacey would have interviewed all four and written 600 stories about it by now!"

A.C. grinned: "And e-mailed the entire office about it."

And posted it on my blog. And Facebook. And Twitter...

S.S.'s fiancee is nominated for Metro's Best Bartender, and he's rallying his troops to vote for her.

"Yeah, I had all my cousins in Israel, England, and India to vote for her," he laughed.
"How many cousins do you have?" P.B. asks.
"Come on, I'm Indian. There are a billion of us," he laughs.

AUGUSTA, GA. - I interned on the copy desk at the Augusta Chronicle, and I know how many people see a story before it goes to press and online (it felt like 100, but it was probably closer to 10); so how do things like this get through?

Family break-in victim while woman in Augusta burn unit

Congratulations! You have managed to write a sentence without a verb!

You had so many other options for this headline (none of mine are perfect, but they are improvements):

• "Family victimized while woman struggles in Augusta burn unit"
• "Family home burglarized while woman lies Augusta burn unit"
• "Burglars hit family of Athens burn victim at Doctors Hospital"
• "Family burgled as Athens victim lies in Augusta burn unit"

There are smart, wonderful people who work at this newspaper. I know how many hours they work each week. These people work doctors' hours on a fast-food worker's salary. And when management of any company makes the decision to grind up their employees in the name of profit, while the company's owners spend every weekend jet-setting around the world (can you say Enron?) - then your product quality plummets. And make no mistake about it, bean-counters: Your newspaper is NOT just an advertising delivery service. Your product exists only as long as people are interested in the content. And so long as you run your staff so ragged that they are too tired to use verbs, you will never recover.

Side Note: Because there is a certain class of person who lurks on blogs just to leave asshole comments - a class of person who has no class - I've begun moderating my comments. Sorry, readers. Some people exist solely to suck joy out of the world.

I work at a newspaper, and I love it. But any public forum invites crazy people to step up and open their yaps: County commission meetings, radio call-in shows, newspaper complaint columns, and the never-ending Internet... nothing is safe.

So I get a lot of crazies on the phone where I work. Today, I spoke to "Selene." She calls a couple of times a week to ramble about the classes that she organizes. I can almost hear the granola rattling around in her brain. After one particularly grueling 15-minute conversation, during which I almost fell asleep during her nonsensical patter that is utterly free of organization, I finally cut her off.

"Okay, so I have all the information except the location," I said.
"Well, I don't want to tell you."
(There is a moment of silence in which I consider stapling my ears shut so I don't have to hear her anymore.)
"You don't want to tell me?"
"Well, I'll tell you, but I don't want it in the paper."
"You want people to just guess where the classes are going to be?"
"Well, they can call, and I might tell them the location, but sometimes I get some people who are really mentally ill. You know?"

Yes. I do know.

"I mean, I want everyone to be able to come. It's a great stress reliever, and, as we know, stress is the cause of all wars."
"Oh!" I say, with a laugh. "I thought it was a shortage of chocolate."
There is a moment of shocked silence on the other end of the phone. I hope she isn't lighting some Wiccan revenge candle - oh, I know. That's not fair. Really, I don't have a problem with Wicca. I have a problem with Wiccans.
"You know," she said, quietly and seriously, "that stuff is really bad for you."
"I know," I say. "Sugar and caffeine and fat."
"Yes, but as you get older you can't digest it and it really clogs up your system," she says. "It's just really awful stuff."
I am unwilling to deal with her anymore.
"Yeah, but you know what else it is?" I ask.
"What?"
"It's yummy!"
She sputters and stutters, laughing stiffly. I intervene before she begins to spew marijuana smoke out of her ears.
"I'm just joking," I said.
"Yes, well, I have to go."
Click.

Wait, did SHE just hang up on ME?!

I finally understand something about former editor Tom Grant that eluded me for the past five years. You know all these crazy people he had writing for us? I won't name names, but let's just say that they're socially challenged. So, anyway, this week, they've all come out of the asylum.

• One acted like a complete drunken fool at a recent event (the Black Panthers? Really?)
  
• One left a mile-long racist rant in our whine line (no, we're not going to print it)
• One has decided to engage in advocacy for bee venom therapy, despite the complete lack of empirical evidence to back it up (but, hey, go ahead and sting yourself with bees all you want)
  
• And one is pairing with the Queen Crazy in town to attack "the powers that be [that] continue to control the media in this local area for their agenda... The dogs are there for reason to sit in front of the big house." (Because we're all being controlled, people. CONTROLLED!! I am writing this blog with a gun to my head! Help me!)
  

Tom didn't take pity on them, in their insanity, to help them to learn and build their resumes - and even to help normalize their reputations. He kept them in control! Now that he's gone, there is no one to watch them!

I foresee bloodshed in the office...

AUGUSTA, GA. - "Remember: We have to vote today," I remind Scott.

"Oh, I already voted. You should vote, too."

"Of course, I will."

We discuss how he voted, and how I might vote. I have an aversion to discussing my voting persuasions with him before my ballot is cast. It irritates the crap out of him. But he'll badger me until I agree with him - or pretend to. I want to maintain am illusion that I make my own decisions, when everyone knows that Austin Rhodes tells us both what to think. (That was sarcasm, in case you missed it)

"Tricia will never forgive you if you don't vote for SPLOST," he grins, trying to persuade me to one side, even when he doesn't know what side I've taken. I decide to remain infuriatingly neutral.

"Well, you know, there's a reason we use secret ballots in America, in case you've forgotten one of the finer point of our democracy."

He rolls his eyes at me and goes back to the news.

Hey, he'd be bored with someone more pliable.

Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

Head: Troops contact family in flash
Subhead: Communication has changed greatly since days of World War II

Wow. Rockin' good subhead, there, Augusta Chronicle copy editors. Are you employing Captain Obvious full-time, or do you just keep him on retainer for the days when nothing in the media has yet irritated me?

Head: Obama picks Sotomayor for Supreme Court
Subhead: She's a self-described 'Newyorkrican' who grew up in a housing project

For Jeebus sake! I'm not Latino OR a New Yorker, and when I saw this headline I almost banged my forehead against the screen in frustration. The term you're looking for, Oh Intern Who Seems to Have Taken Over Subhead Writing for the AP, is "Nuyorican," a kind of compound word that you find in Latino communities, like "holope" for "hold up/robbery." Copy editors: it is not enough to know a lot of vocabulary and grammar. You must also have social and cultural knowledge in order to place these words in context.