All posts by Joseph

Usual Rubbish

Two score and two.

Feeling a bit reflective this week. And no, it’s not because I’m standing in front of a mirror. That’s just narcissism – whole different category of crazy. Besides, all of my mirrors cracked years ago.

Let me start from the beginning. This week I was trying to program Marvin (my personal robot assistant) to make guacamole, which is a challenge in as much as his programming consists of setting a combination of three-position switches in a certain configuration for a given task. Of course, Marvin was built by a mad scientist (Mitch Macaphee), so there’s no guide for what configuration will deliver what outcome, which leaves only trial and error. I was getting close to guacamole (I had found the right combination for gazpacho), but strangely I ended up programming him to replay demo recordings from our earliest days. (Who would’ve thunk those two things would be one toggle-click away from one another?)

Well, that got me thinking back to the days of yore (or days of Yor, Hunter of the Future), when we started this whole music thingy. Two score and two (or was it three?) years ago, Matt and I first picked up our guitars. Then we dropped them because they were too heavy for our little hands, in that we were young and all. Before long, we picked them up again, started plucking, strumming, dairning, nairn-ting (those are technical terms), and we started a little rhythm combo – Matt playing guitar, our friend Tim Walsh playing another guitar, me playing electric bass, and somebody, anybody, playing drums. (We finally settled on our friend Phil Ross, who was better than we deserved.)

I can't play this freaking thing.

Then one day (I think it was in 1979) Matt noticed that my guitar had fewer strings than his. He grabbed it out of my hands, leaving me no option but to start banging on the nearest piano. We did a few songs like that, then more, then more, more, more, and .. well … it became the new normal. Within a few years, we started to learn how to play our instruments, which really got in the way of the kind of music we were into, so we worked hard to forget all we knew. Thus Big Green was born.

Well, that’s the unofficial history of the band. For the official history, full of asinine exaggerations, see our Pre-History page. Now … back to that mirror.

Political Rants

Bad gig.

There’s been a lot of crowing about how great the economy is now, with low unemployment, marginally rising wages, etc. (Sure, only 20,000 jobs were gained last month, but what the hell … rich people are making a lot of money, and that brings the average up.) Every administration takes any opportunity to exaggerate their accomplishments, but this claim of “full employment” is frankly laughable and doesn’t hold up to even the slightest scrutiny. What lurks behind the seemingly strong job numbers is the fact that many, many of these “jobs” are not really jobs at all. I’m referring to the vaunted “Gig Economy”, which currently employs about 36% of all American workers – a staggering statistic.

Unemployed

This isn’t a Trump-only thing – the gig phenomenon really got going under Obama, and they presented these “jobs” and part-time employment as evidence of their success, just as the current administration does (though with a bit less verve). Anyone who has worked as a contractor knows what total bullshit this is. As one who worked in the original “gig economy” – the music industry – I can tell you that, aside from the amount of effort involved, it’s the furthest thing from having a real job that you can get.  You have no security. You receive no benefits. If you get sick, it’s your hard luck. You are, in large measure, perpetually unemployed, always scraping for the next gig. Sure, some people thrive in this type of arrangement, but most struggle with very little reward.

This is great news for business owners who use contractors of various descriptions. Contractors cost a lot less than employees. There are few enforceable responsibilities employers have toward informal workers. And particularly with these app-driven companies like Uber, etc., when one gigger doesn’t work out, there are many more ready to take his or her place. That makes it hard to organize, hard to demand better wages or working conditions. In short, these are not jobs; they are contracts, and as such, ones in which all of the obligations point one way – toward the gig worker. This is why wages have remained pretty much flat for a very long stretch, though there has been some small upward movement this past quarter.

All of you gig workers out there: you have my sympathy. You deserve better than this type of “full employment”, as do we all.

luv u,

jp

Usual Rubbish

Next up.

No, I’m not interested. No, really … not interested at all. And no, I’m not holding out for a better deal. I really just don’t want any part of it, okay? So just drop it. I said NO. (Jesus!)

Oh, hello out there. I was just having a little conversation with one of my esteemed colleagues. And he was getting a little uh-steamed, if you catch my meaning. Okay, full disclosure, it was our mad science advisor, Mitch Macaphee, inventor of Marvin (my personal robot assistant), veteran of many deep space excursions, and the man who broke the space warp. (It was just warped before he got a hold of it, and now the damn thing is busted, thanks to his carelessness.)

What’s all the commotion? Funny you should ask. Perhaps you have some mad scientists in your life as well, or maybe a conventional scientist – someone who works in chemistry or physics, for instance. Well, if so, you know that people of science are frequently tempted by large corporations to use their great skills for some money-making venture, proffered on the promise that the professor will get his or her beak wet in a serious way. Mitch is no exception to that rule. And he’s just gotten an offer that has him seeing dollar signs everywhere.

Sounds dodgy, Mitch.

Personally, I think this is a scam. Mitch is talking about some joint Russian – Luxembourgian venture to mine minerals in outer space. He has a contact familiar with the deal who can get him in on the ground floor, particularly since he has experience with monetizing outer space through the application of advanced technologies used by extractive industry. Turns out that on all of those interstellar tours, when we thought Mitch was asleep in his cot, he was drilling for corbomite of cosmonium or some other precious earth that he would later unload on the galactic commodities market. Who knew? I always thought he traveled with us because he liked our music, or just enjoyed being a member of our posse. But no … it was filthy lucre leading him on, crawling in through his ear and squatting down on his brain.

Thing is, Mitch needs to talk others into investing in the venture. That’s what makes me think it’s a scam. That and the outer space part. Again …. not interested. But by the look on Mitch’s face, this ain’t over.