Go Public (or Go Home)

On Wednesday night, I went down with the Chinchildren to our local NPR & PBS affiliate, WXXI, to watch the Chinchillas perform live for the music series OnStage. So much fun. I hadn't been in a TV studio since I went to see one of my old bosses get interviewed on Sally Jessy Raphael (remember her?). This recent taping was clearly a much more interesting experience, to say the least.

It felt so Austin City Limits-like. Groovy baby.

Photo courtesy of (aka "stolen from") the Stan the Man's Facebook page.

Joy Joy for Christ is Born

If I could sing like this, I wouldn't have to lip sync in church. To think she's 15 years old. That voice is a true gift.

What Child is this, who, laid to rest
On Mary's lap, is sleeping?
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet

Redemption is Sweet

When I was in elementary school, a traveling pianist came to play at our school auditorium. I was seated in the front row and, much like Bruce Springsteen pulling Courtney Cox to the stage (or maybe just kinda), he brought me up on stage and kissed me. And not in a good way.

For at least a week, until I felt like he was safely somewhere else, I rode in the back seat of our station wagon lying down so that he couldn't see/find me. I was terrified, ashamed, embarrassed, disgusted (and so on).

Roughly 25 years later, in the late 90s, the hubby and I went to see David "Honeyboy" Edwards -- a blues legend who won a Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award this week. After an amazing show, we went up to shake his hand and he surprisingly kissed me. But, unlike the original vile kiss of my childhood, this was an unexpected, kind gesture from a living legend.

So today I send out a warm, heartfelt congratulations to Honeyboy. I feel honored and privileged to have seen him live and grateful for the redemptive kiss.

BlogHer Roc!

Riding in the car a moment ago, we heard "Rock the Casbah." Son #1 said, "This is one band that can always put me in a good mood."

A nine year old boy after my own heart.

* * * * *

In other news, I bookmarked this fun blog, Chic and Green, a while back and just last month noticed that the blogger is a local Irondequoit chick. How cool is that?


More recently, I stumbled upon this beautiful letterpress shop, Pistachio Press, located right here in the Roch. Of course, the artist also writes a blog: Which Ones Are Weeds.

One thing led to another and, lookee here, two more Upstate NY bloggers: Two Brunettes and The Sweetest Occasion. 

I'm starting to think that there's an entire subculture of local bloggers that I may want to meet!

Art for Scouts

I decided to pawn off my week of leading a Cub Scout meeting by kicking off their pursuit of the Artist badge and immediately passing the baton to Jim Mott, a local "celebrity" of sorts and a friend of the hubby.

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

He shared his adventures and some of his paintings with the kids. Beautiful scenes -- some painted in our own backyard. (Well, just up the street.) Unbelievable talent. And friendly to boot.

I hope to check out his show at the Mercer Gallery this weekend. Thank you Jim!

Let it Shine

SpotOn

Following is a confluence of random thoughts about the state of the advertising industry:

• I hear more people than ever before claiming to watch the Superbowl for the commercials
• People talk about the good ads after the Superbowl just as much as they discuss the game
• The first ad break during SNL features a spoof -- and most people, I would venture to guess given my lack of data, stick around to watch it
• Every other ad on TV, for the most part, is skipped thanks to TiVo/DVR
• Interesting ads are shared beyond TV via YouTube and email (case in point: the Heineken walk-in closet commercial or T-Mobile's dancers in a London train station)
  

So why not create an agency (which my neighbor immediately called SpotOn) that negotiates long-term positions for dedicated space on popular TV shows -- and then custom delivers a unique, memorable ad for that spot on a weekly basis. If executed well, people should stay during the break to watch a notable, new ad each week especially if the ad is tailored to match the show's content.

This idea first came to me when the kids were watching some cable program that showcased buildings blowing up, accidents on the race car circuit, etc. When they cut to commercial, it was for some nondescript product with a commonplace ad. Instead of "you had me at hello," it was "you lost me at the break." I thought, wouldn't it be great if the ad somehow kept the action going? Sure, not too many brands want to be associated with a fiery explosion but some might -- especially if the ad itself is clever enough.

As my girlfriend Kris' husband countered, "Isn't that what advertising agencies are supposed to be doing?" Why yes, yes it is. But I think the current model is tired and worn out. The current model understandably focuses on brand consistency across all forms of media vs. tailoring the viewing experience to the audience at hand. And too many brands are risk-adverse. If you're Procter & Gamble and you've invested millions in your collective brands, you're going to stick with advertising that fits the model. I get it.

However, some brands can and should take a chance. New entrants in the market. Old products that need a facelift. Commoditized products that need differentiation. The possibilities are endless.

While I don't think we could "own" the first spot during American Idol each week (may be a tad cost-prohibitive!), perhaps we could negotiate the first spot on Flight of the Conchords, Krod Mandoon or Late Night with Jimmy Fallon while we make a name for ourselves. Start small . . .

If the team at SNL can produce a new ad weekly, in addition to writing, rehearsing and performing a multitude of skits, I believe we can accomplish a lot with a small team of solid, local writers coupled with a talented director and production crew. With low overhead (i.e., we could operate out of a barn for all I care) and minimal upstate NY salary requirements when compared to the industry norm on Madison Avenue, we could charge our clients very little on a per-ad basis until we're well known and respected. And I guarantee that we can initially secure local "actors" who would jump at the chance of being in a national ad: for free. The bulk of our clients' expenditure would likely cover the network costs.

For companies that spend enormous sums for a lifeless 30 second spot, this new model should be a dream come true for select products.

And the beautiful side of this coin, from a business development position, is that since we would a) "own" the time slot, b) boast a captive audience over time and c) become known for our work, longer term, clients should come to us. To me, that's a revenue model that works!

It's a win: win situation. And it would be one whole heck of a lot of fun.

Talking Smock

Sheer fantabulousness close to home: Smock! Absolutely beautiful thank you notes, party invitations, wrapping paper, Christmas cards, etc. all designed and printed using 20 letterpresses in sunny, downtown Syracuse, NY.



The best part? At $14 for a box of six or eight, they're affordable. Support your local artisans!

Pack Rat

While sorting through an old box of stuff in the basement, I came across heaps of mementos including a photo of my mom on a date in the 50s in a frame that says, "Souvenir of Moroccan Village: The Gayest Spot in the Village" and "Slumming in Greenwich Village." Inside that frame was also the front page of The AMBAssador 25th Anniversary Issue (October 1953) which I'm guessing was the internal newsletter for employees of Alexanders. My mom was apparently an Alexanderite (posh name for a salesperson?) and was pictured with four other women alongside an article that states, "Alexanderites strutting proudly down the aisles of our two Bronx stores and at White Plains recently had ample reason for thrusting out their chests and boasting a bit." You go girl!

Speaking of strutting themselves, I also unearthed a picture of my dad circa 1945 with a bunch of other guys in the Navy all dressed up like (I think) girls? They're lifting their skirts (yes, you read that right) to show their boxers but also are wearing hats, garter belts on their thighs, and scarves around their necks. I'm thinking that they may have fit in better at Moroccan Village than on the U.S.S. Richmond. What happens at sea stays at sea?

In the pile, I found a bunch of my old concert tickets including the Who, the Stones, Rush, Santana, the Dead, the Lounge Lizards, Elvis Costello, UB40, Joe Jackson, Janes Addiction, Simple Minds, the Call, Tom Petty, Cheap Trick, the Plasmatics and more.

And I found a receipt from Marine Midland Bank dated March 16, 1983 where I ran into the Thompson Twins at the ATM and they all signed my bank balance ($311.68)! I also have an REO Speedwagon ticket signed by Gary Richrath and Kevin Cronin. Ah yes, you can tune a piano but you can't tuna fish.

My least favorite ticket? The Cars. I'll never forget them singing, "Can I bring you out in the light?" and flooding the War Memorial with stadium lighting. Unbelievable buzzkill. Worst ending to a concert ever. Not just what I needed.

Lastly, I found a copy of Playbill magazine circa 1984 in which Aaron Sorkin (an SU grad with whom we used to stay on our weekend trips to the city) wrote, "It was great sex! Come live with us." Aaron S. For whatever reason, his S looks more like a backwards dollar sign. (Note to mom: We didn't really have sex. It was his roommate who hit on me at the time but I feigned death. It worked.) In any event, Aaron was convinced that he would be famous one day and I believed him. Back then he was a talented writer living in a walk-up in Hell's Kitchen; now he's a talented gazillionaire living presumably in some heavenly mansion in California. Maybe I'll take him up on his offer now?!

Road to Nowhere

This Friday night, I have to stand in front of 300 people and speak at a fund raising event. This, alone, is making me extremely nervous. So much so that I have an eye twitch.

To make matters worse, I have to read something that I did not write. It's a heavy-handed bio for which I need to channel Charles Kerault. Or Charlton Heston as Moses parting the Red Sea. I'm more of a light-hearted quipper who is more comfortable one-on-one or with a small group of friends.

Yet, I recognize that this is not about me. It's an honor to have been asked to give this speech.

When I was first hired by Kodak in the late 80s, I didn't speak to anyone for months. Literally. In retrospect, I recognize that I have come a long way from my intense shyness. I used to get physically ill beginning new jobs; now I meet with new clients on a daily basis.

I guess it's all part of my path. I'm just not exactly sure where I'm going. Or why.

I'll gladly accept any and all prayers that I do justice to this piece that was written, I'm sure, with love. I just hope I don't trip myself up over the hokey Hallmark sentimentalism. It's not my strength.

Legal Tender

We’re in the basement, learning to print
All of it’s hot
$10–20–30 million, ready to be spent
We’re stackin’ them against the wall those gangster presidents
------------------------------

I posed a scenario, similar to the following, to my economist brother last fall.

What if, instead of spending millions of dollars on an ill-fated fast ferry to Toronto, Rochester did the following?

Hire 50 sharp, young thought-leaders/entrepreneurs and guarantee them a $90K annual salary for two years to move to Rochester. To gain entre to our glorious city, each is required to write a compelling business plan. For the next two years, each individual is given the resources to execute the idea including a $100K additional investment annually to start their business (i.e., while fully employed).

There would be say $500K in annual operating funds set aside for the building lease, maintenance, overhead, equipment, etc. And shared resources will be allocated (copiers, entrepreneur in residence).

Successful plans may be eligible for incremental investment (e.g., on average, an additional $2M in funding for the top 10% of the plans assuming they met pre-established metrics); others can attempt to limp along on their own, if they so desire, or pack it in (their choice).

Overall, $30M would be spent over two-plus years to gain what, if anything, in return? I wonder how many long-term successful businesses would be started.

My brother’s response: bad investment. In short (whereas his answer was actually long, detailed and well articulated), free markets (e.g., venture capitalists) tend to make much better decisions from determining what to fund to overall fiscal management and cutting funds as soon as necessary on under-performing ventures.

And now, hot off the presses, is a May 2008 working paper from the National Bureau of Economic Research that backs up his claim: “The results indicate that enterprises financed by government-sponsored venture capitalists under-perform on a variety of criteria, including value-creation, as measured by the likelihood and size of IPOs and M&As, and innovation, as measured by patents.”

So where is the long-term hope for our fair city when our young talent is reportedly fleeing the area? Does it lie in what I term the “giant magnet effect” (i.e., where a great number of us, for whatever reason, come back years later)?

The problem as I see it with the magnet model is that, upon return, many of us are labeled “overqualified” and we trade in a high salary for a presumably better way of life or we leave again. For a city that boasts a talented workforce yet simultaneously decries the loss of talent, it’s a catch-22. Do you want the talent to stay in the area or don’t you?

For my uber-talented designer friend Todd who came back to Rochester after 25+ years in NYC and subsequently had to move to Dodge (seriously!) for a great job at Land’s End because he was “too talented for Rochester,” my sincere apologies on behalf of our entire city.

I don’t ever want to hear that phrase again. I would rather do everything in my power possible to change that commonly uttered phrase to “not talented enough for Rochester.”

But how?

Bragging Rights

Just flew in from Mexico -- and boy are my arms tired. D'oh.

More on our fabulous vacation later but first I need to boast about something that has absolutely nothing to do with me but about which I am abundantly proud by proxy . . .

My nephew who is a freshman at Brown apparently won "best screenplay" in the Ivy Film Festival last weekend.

How cool is that?

Okay, I'll answer: pretty darned cool.