two more days + the economist vs myspace.com.

blogging from mom’s notebook today. result? a lot more typos because, for some reason, i type much more quickly on a notebook’s keyboard and, hence, much more sloppily. but my grammatical fascism evens it out. it’s a work in progress, although i shouldn’t get used to it. whether at work or at home, i have a feeling it will be a long time before i own/work with a notebook. so, no worries.

lots of packing today. bought random items to help make new home feel like some sort of super combination of old Oakland apartment and our house in Wayne. (but with a dishwasher!) a metal shower caddy (an upgrade), a microwave (which was a challenging purchase, for some reason – because mom and i are insane, i guess), and more plastic bins (because they’re easier to work with than cardboard boxes). the most challenging day for me will be tomorrow – lots of other boxes to go through. see, i really don’t need dishes down there, but there are a few glasses and mugs and whatnot that i would like to tote down with me. so, the challenge is to go though the boxes in the closet that haven’t been moved, let alone opened, in three months, and pick and choose things that have been individually wrapped in plastic or paper. seriously, i wouldn’t feel right without my collections of odd mugs and coozies.

who has a matching piggly wiggly mug and coozie? yeah, this guy.

i will desperately miss my dad’s subscription to the economist whilst in DC. i was flipping through the most recent issue (july 29 – august 4) and found a most interesting article that procured my belief that the myspace service is nothing more than a clever ruse developed by some nerdy interneters, and more recently Rupert Murdoch – the man behind Bill O’Reilly’s rise to infamy – to sell things to the oft-chased middle-class 18-25 demo (and their seemingly endless supply of disposable income). the article, which can be found online here (you have to sit through a Chevron commercial – but do it, it’s so worth it) has some interesting info on the so-called “harmless social site” (a colleague’s words).

The social-networking site had 17m unique monthly visitors last July, when Rupert Murdoch recast himself as an internet visionary by buying it for $580m; now it has 54m, and is the most visited website in America. Even if, judging by recent headlines, many visitors are prowling paedophiles or panicking parents spying on their sex-crazed children, at least some of them are the valuable youngsters to which many big firms yearn to sell things. MySpace seems to offer a chance for companies to take their marketing into new, potentially more lucrative territory, by becoming, in effect, members of their customers’ network of “friends”.

A growing number of firms have established their own pages on MySpace, to which users can link. In the process, some are getting into bed with some unlikely partners.

[Emphasis added.]

the article then talks about Unilever, who makes that foul smelling Axe “pretend you took a shower before hitting the bars” deodorant. suffice it to say, in their first attempt at advertising on myspace, Axe gained 75,000 new prospective customers, all horny boys apparently. the article continues,

The biggest challenge—for MySpace itself, and for the firms that want to use it to promote their wares—is not to alienate potential customers by being overtly commercial. “We need to be engaging with them, not banging them over the head with brandalism that pollutes their space,” says Kevin George of Unilever. But, he says, “when you deliver 18- to 24-year-old guys content they want to engage with, they don’t mind if it comes from a brand.”

it’s splendid that my demographic is seen as nothing more than carrot-chasing buffoons. i walk down the street and see people looking at me, and wonder if they are eyeing me as one these people. then i tell myself that, no, they must be seeing my dynamic possibility, the way i carry myself in a world full of doubt, and the challenging ideals that i like to live by.

they see that, right?

damn myspace. you suck.

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