Steve Jobs Legacy

I enjoyed this NYTimes retrospective of the impact of Steve Jobs and what he accomplished with Apple. Money quote:

Again and again, [Jobs] would step up to entrenched players in the media with calcified business models and explain their business to them in ways they did not recognize from the inside. ... In the case of music, many of us wanted the ease and portability of MP3 files, but didn’t want to become mouse-enabled criminals taking the music we wanted. From that perspective, 99 cents seemed like a small price to pay.

You Need a License to Dance

Some interesting thoughts by Connor Friedersdorf about why government requires permits for everything:

The normal mindset among U.S. officials is that prior permission should be required to sell legal goods to a willing buyer. Kids selling lemonade on the street are shut down. A Missouri man has been fined $90,000 for selling rabbits (he made about $200). ... If you read enough of these stories, you'll see the targeted entrepreneurs say the same thing again and again: I just had a good idea and started a business. It never occurred to me that I needed permission. And, of course, other would be entrepreneurs don't ever get started because they're too intimidated to assess and grapple with the bureaucratic hurdles. Or else the regulations are written in a way that excludes from commerce folks who are operating at a very small scale.

I've always wondered why you need permits to sell some things. Do you really need a barbers license to cut hair? Why is the government worrying about these things when there are so many, many other things to focus on? Is it that they are addicted to the money they make on permit fees?
Warren Zevon touches on this point during his downer of a song "Life'll Kill Ya": You need a permit to walk around downtown / You need a license to dance"

Mental Health Break

Cookie Monster singing Tom Waits' "Gods Out on Business."

in my dreams when i am other men

in my dreams when i am other men
(i just can’t be held back by this small life)
i run shirtless with the sun on my back
across the field, down the hill and to the beach
salt water in my mouth and the wind in my hair
man, i’m full of fun clichés
other times i’m in tense claustrophobic situations
joking black humor with old-time black-ops colleagues
exercising hard-won skills at all hours of the night
then i’m watching a desert sunrise from a hot air balloon
a friendly stranger’s arm around me several thousand feet up
gliding silently in between mountain ranges
tough bumpy landing in the middle of nowhere, but it’s allright
‘cause the chase car’s coming with tequila to warm the blood
and we cook huevos rancheros over the campfire
watching the day unfold naturally
which is nice and all, but it doesn’t last and
I find my tattooed arms pounding out bonham fills to an ecstatic crowd
anger is an energy, dontya know
wiping down after the show, smirking at backstage starlets
my every whim their command
which is fun for a while, no doubt
but sometimes i just gotta hop on my bike and get riding
meditating on that ol’ white line for hours and hours
heading up to the green hills, man
with different small towns tucked into every valley
unique taverns where nobody knows my name
(oh, but they want to)
snow softly beating against single paned glass as
two lonely souls slow dance in the steamy heat next to the jukebox
man, i’d love to stay but
i’ve got miles to go before I sleep
if i sleep
the next day i’m at a county carnival
with sheep and goats and crafts and crowds
a boy on my shoulders screaming for more
eating french fries as we walk through the crowd
silly high-pitched laughter filling the air
it seems like all i’ve ever wanted but
i don't end up staying for long
'cause now i’m a young executive (really?)
effortlessly tying Windsor knots and wearing hundred dollar shoes
leading all day focus groups on initiative alignment
patent leather briefcases on walnut boardroom desks
i’ve got top-of-the-line this and best-in-class that
yea, everyone loves the smell of money
fish plates and single malts before hitting the town
but i'm just warming up
'cause you know i know the best after-hour parties
clothing optional in foggy clubs with deep house beats
spending my weekends away in mansions named after patrons
with pools and tennis and endless high end booze...
flirting with debutantes in pearls and pencil skirts
french kissing in an empty wing of the house
i can do this all night (and often do)
it's all in my head (isn't it?)
thoughts and fantasies buried away...
you don't know what i'm really like
'cause i'm living new lives every single night
in my dreams, i'm other men

Perrotta Novels

I've had mixed experiences with the novels of Tom Perrotta. I absolutely loved Little Children (you can find my review here), but The Wishbones, not so much - I found it to be too glib and with too many coincidences.

His new novel The Leftovers has a fascinating premise: "a rapturelike event has whisked millions of people off the face of the earth." What makes this conceit really interesting is that the people that were taken away have nothing in common. As Stephen King puts it in his great NYTimes review, "Nor do all (or even most) of the missing qualify as Camping-style Christians; those raptured away include Hindus, Buddhists, Muslims, Jews and the odd alcoholic… [and] the rapture’s failure to conform to biblical prophecy has driven some people plumb over the edge."

I heard Perrotta talking about the novel on NPR the other day and was intrigued by his thinking about the premise. He was thoughtful and respectful about the implications of the rapture but didn't seem too serious. I enjoy the idea of taking a seemingly absurd idea and making it come true but with a twist. Plus, if the book is anything like Little Children, it will be written well in what SK describes as "beautifully modulated narration... His lines have a calm and unshowy clarity."

(As an aside, I hesitated to link to that review of Little Children, because it's a good example of my writing when I don't take the time to edit myself - it's unclear, stream of consciousness writing that's more thinking out loud than thoughtful conclusions. Still, it is what it is, but take it with a grain of salt.)

Cross posted at Reading, Running and Red Sox

The Brave Little State of Vermont

The ending of President Calvin Coolidge's speech after seeing Vermont's recovery efforts following the epic flood of 1927:

Vermont is a state I love. I could not look upon the peaks of Ascutney, Killington, Mansfield, and Equinox, without being moved in a way that no other scene could move me. It was here that I first saw the light of day; here I received my bride, here my dead lie pillowed on the loving breast of our eternal hills.

I love Vermont because of her hills and valleys, her scenery and invigorating climate, but most of all because of her indomitable people. They are a race of pioneers who have almost beggared themselves to serve others. If the spirit of liberty should vanish in other parts of the Union, and support of our institutions should languish, it could all be replenished from the generous store held by the people of this brave little state of Vermont.

Mental Health Break

For those of you - like me! - who need a break from work, kids, hurricanes, and all the other crap of daily existence, sit back and enjoy some classic William Shatner performances. The songs in particular are amazing: covers of Harry Chapin's "Taxi" and Elton John's "Rocket Man" that kill me everytime I come across them.