November « 2010 « Black Marks on Wood Pulp / by Corey Vilhauer

Questions arising from a 17th viewing of Disney’s Beauty and the Beast.

November 30th, 2010

1.
The back story explains the prince’s transformation into the Beast as punishment for turning away an old beggar woman and, in a deeper sense, for not recognizing true beauty. What it doesn’t explain is the need for this enchanted woman to transform innocent bystanders into household objects. If the beggar woman is supposed to represent some kind of moral high-ground, what’s with the collateral damage?

2.
It is understood that Lumiere, Cogsworth and Ms. Potts are former humans who have come under the same enchantment as the Beast. But what about the hundreds of additional “objects come to life,” especially those in the “Be Our Guest,” scene. Are each of these assumed to be former staff of the prince? Every knife a servant, every cup one of Mrs. Potts sons, every feather duster a maid? Or are we to assume that SOME of the items are former people, and SOME of the items are simply enchanted, and ONE ottoman in particular is actually a dog. Where do we draw the line?

3.
Where does the food come from? It would be quite a feat for a bunch of castle-bound formerly inanimate objects to conjure up daily meals – let alone the dancing feast performance of “Be Our Guest” without sending SOMEONE to the grocery store. Maybe they subscribe to a delivery service. Maybe *gasp* the food is former staff as well.

4.
Was there ever an investigation into Gaston’s fall from the castle?

5.
Am I thinking about this too much?

Comments: 3

Issues Considered: Movies

Why I don’t use GoDaddy

November 25th, 2010

Disclaimer: This is in no way a knock against anyone who uses GoDaddy.

That being said, I don’t use GoDaddy. I refuse. I hate them. I think they’re a bunch of turds.

It isn’t because they’ve been universally reviled for having poor customer service. It isn’t because they’re the monolith throwing a shadow over the rest of the domain accrual industry. It isn’t because their marketing efforts are insulting to women.

It’s because their marketing efforts are insulting to MEN.

It’s because their ads and their brand and their entire being is based on this Neolithic idea that men will follow the breasts and the sex jokes and the thinly veiled innuendo when, in fact, Web practitioners and professional marketers are, for the most part, smarter than that.

We stopped laughing at boobie jokes at least two decades ago. But GoDaddy is convinced we’re all middle school morons.

And we’re supposed to be attracted to this?

We’re in a generation of thought-laden careers and carefully crafted personal brands. And whether or not you believe in that kind of crap, you have to understand that, let’s be honest, it’s not in our interest to drag our knuckles and giggle about butts. Yet, here we have the leading domain handler – with over 50% of the market – writing television scripts based on bare breasts and assuming that, without a doubt, all men will be led to remember GoDaddy fondly.

The truth is, it’s insulting. To me. Yes, it’s insulting to my wife and to my daughter and to my women friends and to any friend, really. But more than that, it’s insulting to me.

They lead the market not because they pander to the lowest common denominator, but because they’re the only outfit that sees any need to advertise on a major scale.

Imagine how they’d do if they stopped acting like 7th graders and started explaining why we should go with them in the first place.

Common sense, amirite? Talk about a special brand of insult.

And that’s why I don’t buy domains through GoDaddy.

Comments: 3

Issues Considered: Annoyances, Technology

The Promise Ring, “Why Did We Ever Meet?/Forget Me/Red and Blue Jeans” – 10.27.99

November 21st, 2010

This is what dorky sounds like.

Oh, god, I mean, seriously, it’s also what college emo angst sounds like, all lispy and emotional and barely able to sing as well as you did in that one good take – the only one people remember because it’s the only one that’s on the record – and let’s all just go get a cup of coffee and compare our rare vinyl collections, already.

All of those bobbing heads in the audience? They were all fighting to stay still, staring at their shoes like they were taught to at those old Fugazi concerts, but shit – they couldn’t, could they?

They couldn’t stand still. They couldn’t help but to move to this barely-in-tune and OMG SO DORKY band.

That’s why The Promise Ring was fantastic. Because they brought happiness back to a legion of ex-Sunny Day Real Estate fans.

They brought dorky back, too. And there was much rejoicing.

Peeking at the elephant

November 16th, 2010

Content Strategy Blog: The Preview Hey. Pardon me for a moment while I talk about a new little project I’m working on.

It’s another blog.

Wait. Before you click away. Wait.

It’s a content strategy blog. It’ll touch on IA and UX and CMS and Web writing and all of those other cousin-disciplines, but first and foremost it’s going to be a content strategy blog.

I feel so grown up, writing a blog about one professional subject. *Blush.*

Why? Here’s why: I’ve been writing about content strategy, either here or over at Blend’s blog, for over a year now, but in both places the posts have seemed out of place.

At Black Marks on Wood Pulp, they’ve fallen upon the wrong ears; they’re shards of glass in the jelly of this might-as-well-be-a-daddy-blog blog – too sharp and too work-related to fit in with the posts about Sierra’s poop. And Blend’s blog is more of a news feed – a stream of data rather than a chapter book on professional development.

So, at the urging of Deane and with the help of Blend, I’m going off the deep end. I’m starting a content strategy blog. Just like everyone else who started a content strategy blog. Except mine’s going to be different.

Because it’s got a big jungle animal on it.

I’ll admit – I’m pretty excited to dive in.

Look for it. Soon. That is all.

Comments: 7

Issues Considered: Blogging, Career, Content Strategy, Writing

On our second favorites

November 14th, 2010

Think about that one band you listened to when you were beginning to mature as a person. The one you adored. The one you followed to the point of fanaticism. The one that changed your outlook on music so much that it bled into every facet of your blossoming musical taste until, looking back, it managed to influence everything you listen to even today.

It was The Beatles. It was The Replacements. It was Radiohead. It was Modest Mouse. It doesn’t matter who it was – it was someone.

You still listen to that band, I bet. You still love them. At least, you appreciate them – what they meant, how they changed your outlook.

But what about the band that ultimately came in second?

It was the band that you loved ALMOST as much as your favorite. It was the Built to Spill to your Modest Mouse. The Rolling Stones to your Beatles.

Chances are, you often forget about how good that band was.

We tend to forget our second favorites, not because they’re forgettable, but because their awesomeness is so closely tied to that which we are completely devoted to. They are dwarfed by our insistence upon choosing one clear winner: one clear band that is The Most Important and, from there, tracking our progress as sentient beings.

But the feeling – that feeling, you guys – when you remember exactly why they vaulted to “second favorite” and, at times, let’s be honest, were the frontrunner for a week or so – oh, man. That feeling. Is. Awesome.

You play the album. You remember the finer points of your youth. And you realize that “second best” had just as much to do with shaping your taste as anything else.

Livable streets

November 10th, 2010

Donald Appleyard's We used to live on a busy street, directly across from a hospital. In front of our house the street split, throwing an uninhabited triangle patch of lawn in between us and our across-the-street neighbors.

Connections were sparse. We barely knew our neighbors.

Now we do.

Our new house is situated away from the main traffic vein; the houses are directly across from each other. And, according to a fantastic study conducted in 1969, it should be no surprise that we’re closer to our neighbors than we ever had been in our old neighborhood.

It’s social science.

According to a study on the livability of cities by Donald Appleyard, a former Professor of Urban Design, “just the mere presence of cars, with their implied aspects of danger, noise and pollution, crushes the quality of life in neighborhoods.”

From “Research: Mapping the Impact of Traffic on the Livability of Streets” (from Information Aesthetics):

…One chart conveys the social interactions on the 3 different streets, with each line denoting a unique connection between one person on the street and another. There are much fewer lines on the heavily traffic street as opposed to the moderate or the light traffic street, which clearly has a lot more interconnections. This chart also includes clusters of little dots that indicate where people physically gather. So it shows how on the heavily traffic street, there are a much smaller number of dots and there are only a handful of places where people would gather on their street.

Traffic forms a wall in between people, and proximity plays just as much a part in being good neighbors as personality. The same could be said about a bunch of things, I’d assume. Mall design. Festival planning. Most importantly: office arrangement. The closer and more open the environment – free from traffic, clutter and walls – the better the interaction between employees.

We all need our space. But we also need to feel close to something.

Comments: 2

Issues Considered: Random

Tonight’s poop conversation

November 8th, 2010

SIERRA: “Daddy, my poop looks funny.”
ME: “What, Sierra?”
SIERRA: “Daddy, my poop looks like an ice cream cone.”
SIERRA: (laughs)
ME: “Sierra…”
SIERRA: “Daddy, we won’t eat it.”
ME: “Right.”
SIERRA: “Because we won’t eat poop.”
ME: “Right.”
SIERRA: “Because poop is yucky.”
ME: “…”
SIERRA: “Because poop has germs.”
ME: “…”
SIERRA: (very seriously) “Daddy, that poop is NOT an ice cream cone.”
ME: “…”

This is a very common discussion around our house now. SO adorable.