Showing posts with label Advertising Tuli Kupferberg. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Advertising Tuli Kupferberg. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

PROGRESS DEVOURED THE NEWS?

Publicity for more than a decade has been there's less profit for media conglomerates to discover and sell the news. But progress devoured the veracity of information long before the birth of this generation as a compelling story has come before the facts for a very, very long time. Apparently Martin Luther didn't tack his 95 Theses above a door as a publicity stunt to shame the Catholic Church hierarchy for exploiting the poor as alleged by his admirers, who through the printing press in January 1518 mounted Martin Luther's fame. Instead Martin Luther followed protocol by sending his criticisms up the Catholic Church chain of command. But as, the film director, John Ford said, "When the legend becomes fact, print the legend."

Will the business of news presentation die, blamed as the culprit, because over time the crafted quality presentations circumvented people's desire to measure the news, since seeking, what was planted in everyone's lap, was out of fashion a very, very long time ago? Blaming the messengers for their having to represent a constituent opinion, rather than uncovering facts that could add up to comprehensive information? For corroboration of pervasive sycophanticism all one has to do is recognize Brit Hume's repetitive, rhetorical rant, on Fox News Sunday with Chris Wallace, that liberalism is government enterprise. No, he doesn't say it that way specifically? Good, keep paying attention.
That profit is so disheveled, the news is not the marketplace of ideas but of messages to be bought and sold is the public's fault we haven't insisted on the whole story. Everyone following their own philosophies in sound bytes rather than expanding the political intellectual sphere. Or is political intellectualism just an oxymoronAnd court of public opinion not a trial? 

So while unaware of having these specific thoughts in mind, I looked to see an article of some detail in The New York Times' New Party Pick Putin as Leader by  labeled WORLD BRIEFING | EUROPE. But what I found was just a little tid-bit of accepted Western wisdom, without expansion, as if pasted to the Internet by Gawker itself except for the portent of important politics.  
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Obviously I don't get around much as I can't remember ever hearing or seeing President Putin speak nonstop in English for 2 minutes and 28 seconds before. C/O The New York Times and the Kremlin.
Defining Free Speech Is Confining?
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How Right Was The Wall Street Journal Editorial Board Member Dorothy Rabinowitz About The Notorious "All Powerful Bicycle Lobby Enterprise?"

bikeportland.org

Bike lanes by Casey Neistat

More importantly will this be the summer safe cycling isn't a debate? Because that's how the interview ends with both women shrugging and deciding they'll see how the fate of this bicycle program is perceived. 

Basically, Ms. Rabinowitz is right. The proliferation of sidewalk riding and traffic light running defies what is accepted proper street etiquette. Except the question that preceded her tirade was about a comparison of traffic deaths by automobile compared to no deaths by bicycle over the same period. Where have over aggressive irresponsible bike riders gotten their feeling that anything goes when it comes to traffic survival? From the culture's love of the car and willingness to forgive anything. The Chinese are destroying their environment and are now so addicted to luxury and riches the car brought to the world's elite that it's official few care whether the poor ever catch up or not.   

The popular story was tid-bitted by James Fallows in The Atlantic and Erik Wemple in The Washington Post, among many publications and WSJ. Even Anti-Bike Crusader Dorothy Rabinowitz Will Not Be Silenced by  in New York

But even if it were true bicycling was funneling gazillions of dollars through the system for political domination, the transportation industry's funds are available for a bountiful supply of all-powerful lobbies in many more venues than the challenge of making transportation safe for cyclists. Though it's really endearing watching Dorothy Rabinowitz express her steadfast belief. So no this won't be the summer the United States finally debates traffic. No this is the summer history judges the public's imagination as one fraudulently manufactured by colliding selfish financial motivations.

Last week at Red Lantern Bicycles I attended a discussion of the history of the New York City bicycle movement sponsored and hosted by Mike Green of BikeBlogNYC and Nona Varnado of theBirdWheelAnd you'd never seen an event look less sponsored by huge financial interests. While some people have made money from promoting bicycle transportation, for the most part, civilization is in these people's debt for caring enough long before the bike cult, the "powerful bicycle lobby enterprise," became a faction politicians might have to please.
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Short Story Memorial for Counter Culturist, 
Bohemian Tuli Kupferberg

Thursday, May 30, 2013

To Be Advertising Or Not To Be Is A Question?

According to a first page banner advertisement in The New York Times, Sir Edmund Hillary topped Mt. Everest with Post Grape-Nuts in his pocket, May 29th, 1953. There's no mistaking the value of the consumers' attention, such that as destructive as consumerism can be, financial democracy is a useful solution. 

It's reassuring that whatever the real problem is if it's just about money and everyone's access then we know the solution. The financial success of nuts and berries and families of buffalo? 

Eventually the panacea of education will have created new people so smart that present problems are just maturing society's past. Though a poll consensus would indubitably run high that this generation already considers itself very mature. Especially as the dark ages of the traditional 20th Century shrink in the collective mirror. The world not only improves through education, earthlings evolved. Yet for all our developed strength, where's the efficacy in thwarting the financial security of the crippled, weak and even beaten since the general necessity is that finance circulates throughout society so that everyone can afford Grape-Nuts wherever they're sold whether they want some or not. Grape-Nuts for everybody.

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And Now, While Dominoes Fall In Russia, Something Slightly Different?
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A Theoretical New York City Political Tale From The Other Side Of The Commercial Fence
or

Whose Under Society’s Big Tent?


I had to get away and go where I wasn’t expected to torment myself for my frustrations. I went to see a film I was told I’d never seen anything like before. Still you have to be suspicious when anyone says something will blow your mind. I was. No one’s discovered a new way for James Bond to explode.

I made it to my seat with no difficulty as carpet led my fellow gentry, who can afford feature films, to our individual chairs. Then something was different right away as if revolution was in the air. The music stopped and curtains abruptly closed halfway as the vibrantly pulsating full-screen ad faded to black and a little grainy film came on. The view was from an across-the-street camera slowly panning a graffitied building. Then the camera zooms in and focuses on the sign above the door that says the Tuli Kupferberg Memorial Library and Coffee House. Then the camera lowers slowly to follow the back of a man’s head then his torso inside, so that, after waiting on a car, the camera catches up with the man's back just inside the door. Then the camera widens right to pan from behind the unmanned bar, past the other room of books, to continue left across various heads, sitting at tables and reading alone on the floor. 

So when the camera pan reached the left wall it zooms in on a painting of people screaming at the top of their lungs. Then music starts and the song CIA Man by The Fugs plays in its’ entirety. (3:35 mins.) And when the music started the camera about faced away from the picture to catch the man, grinning in profile, while he surveys the room. Camera 1 also slid backward along the side wall until stabilized in the back corner where it shot from for the rest of the play. So when Camera 1 locks in place, another camera is on a new guy's back coming in and from over that new second man's shoulder, Camera 2 catches his chewing gum extremely slow as the two men stand next to each other listening to the song. 

Meanwhile Camera 2 slid along the front wall to lodge in the front left corner where it remained pointed at the bar to the protagonists' right. Once the visual symmetry of the stage is established, a long-hair got up from the floor to leave and passing the two guys shrugs, “There’s no service here.” Which just gets the two men grinning and looking to their right at the small coffee machine on the small coffee bar. The right guy said, “Serve coffee? Tuli might say we’ve served coffee long enough.” 

So then when they stop grinning, Camera 2 pans left from them and the bar to the table in the center of the floor that the long-hair had sat next to. A chair seated man in his sixties raises his eyes to give them a look and then drops his head back in his book and the men give each other the same look. But short-lived as now Camera 3 enters as if it’s the eyes of the person coming in. The other two cameras check-in as snapshots that miss the front door, then the two men effusively turn around facing Camera 3 as if they're greeting the camera, as Camera 3, as the eyes fade, and Camera 2 catches the new arrival in profile. It was as if a sign on his face said political celebrity even before he said, “I had to see this place.”

Then the first man answers, “Thank you, Mr. Mayor. You agreed to see for yourself. Not just take others' word.”

The politician said, “Yes I make up my own mind,” then the first man mumbled “on a whim” while facing the music/speaker. So the politician looks him in the face and says, “What?” a little angrily, but the first guy just replies, “I just meant what Tuli might think.”

Shrugging, the yet to smile, politician cracks, “And what’s that?”  

Then the first man takes a broad step toward the next room that's the library, and lowers his right arm practically in a curtsey, to say, “Follow me this way to the books.”

Then in passing between the two men, the politician stops to face the first man. He says, “I asked you not to call me Mr. Mayor.” Then the politician listens as if he has to smell this out. Then says, “And will they always have this music?” 

And the first guy says, “Aren’t we all dead when music’s gone?

So now the politician has instinctive reactions. He's dropped his head to a light beat, and discreetly coughed while rubbing his right shoe on the floor. As if preparing to skewer an opponent and lower the boom. With no explanatory narration so far about what a Tuli Kupferberg sign on the door might mean, I’m still following the story. It didn't move at a pace where I wasn't understanding the symbols. 

Then after the last scrape of his left foot, the politician says, “Seinfeld. Can I call you Jerry Seinfeld?” 

And the guy says, “You just did.”

Then the politician snickers and says, "Well. I just did because last time you didn’t want me to know your name.”

So the man falsely accused of being named Seinfeld, says, “Hey.” But the politician ignores him and shifts his weight in place as if he was just peeking inside the library. Then turning back to the first man, the politician's eyebrows move in as his stare centers on the man he'd falsely accused of being a Seinfeld and the politician says, “Everything's a joke to you, huh? The revolution is not coming back to my district. Period. If I don’t have peace and quiet, it’s a blemish on my spotless record I can’t permit.”

Then the anonymous Seinfeld seems to wait on the music with this slight look of maybe his message is lost if the song's cursing doesn't stop. So to himself in voiceover the man thinks, "Man. Tuli sure represented the broad parameters of free speech." 

Then the song ends and Man 1 faces the politician, and out loud says, “I’m quiet.” 

So the politician tries taking him into his confidence. A voter is a voter so the politician says, “You know this isn’t about you. You’re hard working. But society doesn’t need radicals here.”

“Well,” the first guy says, “I’m not Jerry Seinfeld. But you’re the man.”

And the politician didn’t miss a beat. He said, “You know I’m cool. I ride a motorcycle." Then that's when the second man, who’d been listening over the first man’s shoulder, leads Camera 3 past the other two into the Tuli room where he sits in a chair and the camera immediately about faces to focus on the first man's face when he’s not blocked by the back of the politician’s head.

Camera 2, across from the bar, catches the politician's smile when he says, “I’ll be honest with you.” Then not Jerry smiles and gives up on it when the politician continues. “Politicians serve a purpose," he says and at that, Man 2 raises his head from his book and Man 1 squints when the politician says, “I serve the public. The most expensive corporation of all.” 

Amused, as if he was Jerry. Man 1 nods and says, “Ah. So it follows then that government might just be too big to not have inherent corruption? Power corrupts absolutely and all that jazz. What do you think?”

The politician's shoulder shakes. He says, “I think, you think, you can put words in my mouth.”

And Man 1 does a Jerry-like laugh and says, “I wouldn’t assume how far an opinion can reach.” 

So to that the politician raises his chin to give Man 1 the sizing up. Then he says, “You can twist words. You should consider writing speeches. There’s more money in that than this.”

And Man 1, actually in Jerry’s voice again, said, “As it should be?” 

From the beginning the politician had a don’t play smart with me attitude reduced to cliche by the comedies. Friction for friction sake to tantrum-wise portray a job. There was an undercurrent of ideology about this film. Then the camera seemed to forget the protagonists were at a rough spot and focused over the first man's shoulder on a woman and man entering with a box they plop next to the bar. They’ve brought dinner and set a table then one spills a water bottle on purpose, that starts a short water fight and the camera backs away as they clean the floor. 

Then backed up from the water fight, Camera 3 stops at the Tuli room door and about faces to follow inside along a bookshelf aisle where it zooms in on the politician perusing the books and stopping to smack his lips and shake his head holding up the book, 1001 Ways To Avoid The Draft, that someone deliberately painted the title in neon to be perfectly seen.

Then the second guy, sitting, looks up and speaks softly to the first man. “You’re smiling?” And Man 1 says, “Tuli would love this.” 

Then the shot goes black and I’m half expecting a Stallone extravaganza to start, or whatever it was that had tricked me into that theater. But bam, Camera 1, in the back, focuses on no one's there then zooms in on the locked front door popping open to The Fugs’ Summer Of Love, (cued to 7:30), and three enter.

First in, a woman throws up her hands and says,  “Wow the mayor is after us.” And the next new guy says, “The councilman. He’s just a councilman,” as the woman smiles at Man 1 crossing the room to look at a new picture of bicyclists playing polo in a park. 

The new guy says, “That’s why he’s mad at us. Labels are all politicians have. Fred, you have to apologize.”

Finally a character’s name Fred answers a mystery. I’d invested time and it seemed no one else complained, as if we all wanted to see what would happen just like from real compelling films with stars all over the place. Even though Jerry Seinfeld was just replaced by Fred. 

So Fred is completely against apologizing or even staying involved with the project. He says, “Celebrity to celebrity, so to speak. If I were Seinfeld famous, which I’m not.” 

But the woman interrupts, “Fred's right. Except we’re closed unless this becomes an issue.”

Fred says, “I’m not an issue. I’m a comedian.”

Which sparks the other guy who says, “But Fred that’s all we’re asking. Hone your craft here for a really big show. Instead of burning yourself out on the road, do it here.

Fred says, “Yeah. The Book's Last Stand.” 

“Right," the woman says, "I'll be Mickey Rooney in the big show. Fred, people were scared not to sign his petition. We were invited to that meeting just to gloat. This isn’t about books Tuli couldn’t bring himself to throw away. He was obscure for a reason, and not just because he didn’t play guitar like Hendrix. The radical point of view isn't poison. What are you going to do?”

Then the cameras fade out and in on Fred all by himself, at a table, in a chair leaning against the left wall. He’s staring at the wall art and laughs and says, “No one's here. I’ll do a monologue. Leverage. Power. Whoever actually is, was, or becomes mayor, they’re not mayor. Mayor is just a title. However you slice social relations, no person has power to pull strings all by themselves. Any title is a network of tentacles. Look, even Stalin, the bastard, had to dupe millions to get what he wanted."

Then Fred looks up in a questioning pose, as if the sky were inside, and he says, "Tuli would say Occupy isn’t radical. Why would people, pleading, for those that can to stop screwing around with the money, be anything but rational? When the world is unhinged by strict compliance to thought control, where can independence compromise? Ever win?"

Then the camera blacks, but the mega-hit has to wait as an across-the-street camera focuses and follows Fred following the original second guy outside to sit at a table and watch a school bus pass. 

Man 2 says, “No matter who bought the Lower East Side, no one owns the state of mind.” And Fred smugly frowns and laments, “Not this week anyway. No telling what the future is compelled to claim.”

Then everything is black for at least eight seconds when the house lights come on and this wild-haired guy, with a film case, flew by and out the back door chased by theater security. Now that's 3-D!
CMF