Ending the Year With a Clang

There are times when it's best to destroy the evidence and swear all witnesses to secrecy. And then there are times to just come clean. This, I have no doubt, falls into the former category. And yet here I go:

The first thing I must come clean about is that back in August, when Mickens documented the key-related idiocy of a "certain (unnamed) brumpelstiltskin member", he was referring to me: Mike-Michael. The second thing I must divulge is that, last night, yours truly dropped a chain of keys—house, car, mail, work, and spare—into a fricking sewer drain.

How did said mishap come to pass? Well, it all started with a dinner (frozen Margarita pizza) and a movie (The Dark Knight) date I'd scored with a beautiful woman (Oh, who am I kidding? I've come this far, I may as well bare it all: the film was Made of Honor.)

Just before leaving for my date, I inexplicably performed three impulsive, uncharacteristic, and irrational actions: (1) I changed out of my belt-fastened work trousers and into loose-fitting sweat pants that fall down if I put anything in their pockets; (2) I inserted a recently obtained candy cane—which I typically neglect to eat until at least July—into my mouth; and (3) I decided to check my mail on the way out of my apartment.

Hence, as I exited my flat toward my car, I had a wad of credit card offers in my right hand; a half-foot peppermint in my mouth; and a heavy, key-laden ring dangling precariously between my left thumb and forefinger.

As for what happened next, I honestly cannot recall if what slipped was an envelope from my fingers or the mint from my lips, but one of said culprits prompted the reflexively fatal opening of my left hand that—along with gravity—sent my precious keys into the drain (pictured above) over which I just so happened to be walking.

As luck would have it, the keys were soon recovered: the drain was not more than four feet deep, and using a broom stick and a metal hanger (pictured right) that the aforementioned beautiful woman mercifully drove over to me, I was able to "MacGruber" those bad boys back above ground within an hour.

As I reflect on the half-hour between the original blunder and when my Chivalrous Damsel rescued her Sir in Distress, I'm struck by the fact that I never panicked. Well, except for those 30 seconds when—like a ring that's a half size too small for one's finger—I literally could not dislodge my elbow from the sewer grate I'd moronically stuck my arm through.

That last point brings me to my conclusion: namely, the following list of last night's lessons learned, which I'd like to impart to you all:

1. Never stick your entire arm through the narrow opening of a sewer grate, especially one situated in a frequently trafficked alleyway.
2. Affix your spare key to a trusted friend or family member, not to the same chain as the original it's meant to replace.
3. Patrick Dempsey is significantly, almost impossibly, dreamier on the silver screen than he is on TV.

The Scarlett Letter

I’m not quite sure what it stands for (a cross between Adultery and Arugala, perhaps?), but the letter "A" has been permanently affixed to my breast.

Let me explain. The source of my shame dates back to 2 Jan 2008, when I volunteered for Barack Obama at a pre-caucus "Stand for Change" rally in Coralville, IA (task: cajoling attendees into signing in and revealing who they intended to caucus for). Before the event, two rumors began to circulate: (1) that, after his speech, Obama would pose for a group photo and individually shake hands with all volunteers; and (2) that actress Scarlett Johansson would simultaneously give a post-rally "stump speech" before a small group of local college students.

If rumor turned to fact, I realized that a terribly conflicting decision would await me: I could meet Johansson, whose breathtaking performance in 2003's Lost in Translation made a heavy-hearted then-22-year-old want to love again; or meet Obama, whose intellectual yet inspiring rhetoric made a cynical then-26-year-old want to hope again.

By the time the actual speech concluded, it had become apparent that both rumors were true. As I anxiously paced the corridors of the Coralville Marriott Hotel & Conference Center—suffering within from a fierce tête-à-tête between passion and reason—I was reminded of a certain Seinfeld episode involving a chess scene.

But just then, fate intervened. Having aimlessly stumbled into a random conference room, I looked up to behold a small group of eager-looking, predominantly male college students—their eyes fixed upon a rather nondescript closed door. Sure enough, Ms Johansson walked through. With one glance at her beauty, it was settled: I would not be meeting Senator Obama.

Fleeting thrill, forever regret
I do not remember much of what Ms Johansson had to say. This is largely because she did not turn out to be the most, say, captivating of public speakers (e.g., to paraphrase: “I’m supporting Barack because he like, you know, wants to stop global warming”), but also because I spent the better part of her speech nervously texting seven of my friends the following note:

Im in a room with scarlet johannsen right now. She is stumping 4 Obama. She is way cuter in person.

In response to this text (surely the most obnoxious $1.40 I’ve ever spent), one friend (code name: "DJ The Pleiades") quite rightly responded with a well-known, two-word phrase perhaps unsuitable for Mic’s Tape (suffice it to say it's an anagram for "Yuck UFO!"). Looking back, said text response was certainly deserved, but it was also redundant; in other words, I had already screwed myself...

For that one fleeting moment, lost as I was in Ms Johansson's smoky voice, I did not question my decision. But eleven long months of sober mornings-after have brought the weight of my actions into sharp, inescapable focus: I could had met the future President-elect, but I blew it.

As I look in the mirror and see this Scarlett Letter staring back at me, I accept what I have become. But what I cannot accept is for even one of you to repeat my mistake. Thus, readers, hear my plea: if forced to choose between Potential Presidency or Certain Celebrity, please, please, please let your cooler head prevail!

Waste Not Iowa City, the Recyclopedia is Here

Back in July, I shared my dream of an “[online] index of if and where (relative to your zip code) anything and everything can be recycled”.

Four months later, I’m grateful to report that this dream has—on a local level—become a reality. In other words, the Iowa City Recyclopedia is born!

iWasteNot Systems
Before I go any further, allow me to explain how this came to be. It all started with a simple email to iWasteNot Systems—a company whose services, I soon realized, extend far beyond the Recyclopedia.

The iWasteNot philosophy essentially assumes that for every item a person or company can no longer use, there exists another person or company who can use it. To that end, iWasteNot supplies "web-based waste reduction systems" (aka "Materials Exchanges") that allow those who don't needs things to bypass the landfill and instead give/sell them to those who do need things.

The company's most common services (see full list here) are (1) "Residential" exchanges like the Newton Reusable Materials Exchange (in Massachusetts) and the Madison Stuff Exchange (in Wisconsin), which exemplify the idea that “One person’s trash can be another person’s treasure”; and (2) "Industrial/Commercial" exchanges such as the Georgia Industrial Materials Exchange, which prove that “One company’s waste can be another company’s raw material”.

Other offerings include "Agriculture/Biomass/Forestry" exchanges like the Maryland Online Farmers Market and the aptly titled manuretrader.org (which literally facilitates the exchange of manure in and around Pennsylvania); and also "Electronics (E-Waste)" exchanges like this one based in British Columbia.

Recyclopedia: Iowa City
By contacting iWasteNot, I soon found a group of "virtual doppelgangers" who shared (and indeed expanded) my vision of harnessing the power of the Internet to reduce waste. What's more, I also found a uniquely informed and friendly business team who swiftly got my project off the ground, straightforwardly walking me through the initial steps; and patiently facilitated my gradual progress, promptly responding to any questions that arose along the way.

Four months later, the "beta" version of Recyclopedia Iowa City is here. To give you a brief overview of how it works, the main page simply lists an array of everyday items ranging from Aerosol to Vinyl Records (as of tonight, there are 27 entries and counting). Clicking on a given entry will display additional information on (a) how that item can be reduced, reused, or recycled; and (b) the names of specific (predominantly local) "Reuse Businesses and Charities" where that item can be either recycled or donated/sold for reuse.

How you can help
My hope is that, in time, the Recyclopedia will tear the proverbial roof off this sucker we call Iowa City/Johnson County, IA (and that, as a result, any literal roofs that are torn off will be donated to the ReStore or Salvage Barn for reuse)!

How can you aid this goal? Here, dear readers of Mic's Tape, are a few ways:

• Read: check out the site & puts its tips into practice
• Share: tell friends, coworkers, etc about the website
• Factcheck: let me know if any information on the Recyclopedia is incorrect
• Suggest: recommend new items that should be added
• Enlighten: share any additional Reuse charities/businesses that you know of
• Join: if you live outside Iowa City, contact iWastenot and get your area online (I'll help you)

Please consider this blog post an official Iowa City Recyclopedia "message board". Help "finetune" the site: keep the comments, critiques, and suggestions coming!

Obama's Victory

As supporters of President-elect Barack Obama, last night marked quite a moment for brumpelstiltskin. We did not think it possible to simultaneously experience elation, numbness, and the welling of tears, but there we were.

As Mic's Tape political commentator, it is my honor to blog on behalf of my BS brethren. I will share just a few thoughts.

My rationale for supporting Obama included a firm belief in his abilities to practice and encourage healthy, earnest dialogue; and to inspire, through his own actions and rhetoric, selfless acts toward the common good. His victory speech strengthened my confidence in these abilities. Here is an excerpt:

The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep. We may not get there in one year or even one term, but America - I have never been more hopeful than I am tonight that we will get there. I promise you - we as a people will get there.

There will be setbacks and false starts. There are many who won't agree with every decision or policy I make as President, and we know that government can't solve every problem. But I will always be honest with you about the challenges we face. I will listen to you, especially when we disagree. And above all, I will ask you join in the work of remaking this nation the only way it's been done in America for two-hundred and twenty-one years - block by block, brick by brick, calloused hand by calloused hand (emphasis mine).

Earnest engagement
Hearing these words strengthened my own resolve to listen better—not only to the like-minded, but also to those with whom I disagree—and to seek common ground with an unwavering faith that doing so will foster mutual gain. Moreover, as I reflect on my writing during the campaign season, I realize that at times my frustrations boiled over into unmeasured rants (especially concerning Gov Palin). In the future, I hope to temper these flashes with more productive engagement.

Joining in the work
In War and Peace, Tolstoy argued that the events of history are not—as conventional historians suggest—determined by the will and power of world leaders; rather, they are a summation of infinitesimal factors including the collective will of all people involved as well as limitless variables beyond human control. I largely agree, but I believe Tolstoy vastly underestimated the potential for world leaders to shape and inspire said collective will: an ability that Obama appears to be extraordinarily gifted at. If he can inspire the millions who "dug into what little savings they had" and "braved the bitter cold and scorching heat to knock on the doors of perfect strangers" and "volunteered and organized" for the cause of getting him elected, imagine what else he may inspire us to do.

The challenges facing the US and the world are staggering. As Obama said, the government cannot solve all of these challenges; and, given the economy, there are other challenges that it just can't afford to solve through money alone. Thus, in addition to government, collective service and sacrifice are essential. With that in mind, I am ready to "join in the work".

Let's get our hands calloused!

Cat Litter is the New Ethanol

The word on the street—typified by chants of "Distill, baby, distill!" (hat tip: O'Chihak)—is that the future of Iowa's economy is all about ethanol. But in my opinion, that ain't nothing but a bunch of bollocks.

Rather, it is my firm belief (and that of all within brumpelstiltskin) that Iowa's future fortunes will ride the coattails of a Muscatine-based company named GPC Pet Products.

But before I go on, allow me to briefly explain how we came upon this discovery. It all began with my decision (last month) to adopt two of my feline siblings, Dickens and Dolly, from my parents. Once they'd moved in, I had to buy cat food, toys, scratching posts, nail clippers, and litter. It was the latter item that brought me to GPC.

If it's yellow, let it mellow; if it's litter, flush it down the...
For litter advice, I turned to the experts at my favorite pet depot, who recommended the GPC product, "World's Best Cat Litter" (WBCL). Incredulous at first, I honed it on their slogan:

The only litter good enough to be called "World's Best".

"World's Best"? How on Earth do they back up such a boast? For starters, WBCL is naturally made (from corn kernels), safe, clumping, long-lasting, odor-controlling, biodegradable AND...wait for it...flushable! If you don't believe me (or even if you do), please click below to view the official product demo video:



To put all these claims to the test, I purchased a 7-lb bag of WBCL and instructed D & D to do their worst. Five weeks later, I'm pleased to report that all three of us are extremely satisfied with the results. Granted, unlike the demo salesman, I've yet to eat the litter, but I do feel qualified to assess the video's other claims. As suggested, WBCL is indeed dry, dust-free, and clean-feeling; highly absorbent and clumpable; odor-repelling and—insofar as cat litter goes—quite pleasant-smelling (not unlike the scent of home-brewed beer).

I’m also impressed by its longevity and cost-effectiveness. To be clear, WBCL is quite expensive up front—I’ve spent $20.12 so far on just two 7-lb bags—but after six weeks I’ve still got a half bag left, and thus fully expect to make it a full two months off a Jackson plus change. For comparison, the previous brand I purchased (a 10-lb bag of “Better Valu”, sold at a gas station) cost only $2.63, but stunk to high heaven and needed to be changed after about a week. So, at $20.12 per two months versus $2.63 per week, the long-term costs are essentially even.

"Litter" in name only
Personally, though, my favorite aspect of WBCL is its apparent earth-friendliness. Whereas the “Better Valu” scenario detailed above would add about 40lb of litter to the landfill each month; WBCL is biodegradable, flushable, and therefore necessitates zero new trash.

So, if you own a cat (or know someone who does), please consider using (or recommending) WCBL. If enough of us do so, we may just break Iowa's economic dependence on local oil.

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*Admittedly, it makes brumpelstiltskin slightly uneasy that California—a very environmentally progressive state—"discourages" the flushing of cat litter (a fact denoted by an asterisk on the WBCL bag), but unless evidence emerges that doing so is somehow environmentally-unfriendly, Mic's Tape will continue to use, flush, and endorse WBCL with relish.

Credit Crisis for Dummies (By a Dummy)

In the midst of the current financial crisis, people are looking to experts they can trust. Why then have I, Greenspanke, the so-called “finance minister” of the world’s 1,942,080th most popular blog, remained so conspicuously silent on the matter?

In short, I am a fraud.

Contrary to the many epithets (e.g., “First Dude of Finance” and "The Montell Jordan of Money") so often heaped upon me, in truth my economic “expertise” only extends to personal money management—not national (let alone global) finance as a whole.

As such, asking me to weigh in on something as wholly beyond my grasp as the world financial crisis is much like, oh I don’t know, asking someone with no apparent insight into the intricacies of domestic and international politics to run for US vice president.

All of that said, I have done some research (aided greatly by my mentor, TG), and will take a stab at briefly summarizing the current crisis.

Sowing the seeds of catastrophe
Roots of the crisis largely stem from the Federal Reserve’s 2001 decision, under then-chairman Alan Greenspan, to lower the “federal funds rate” (FFR) and then keep it low for several years (e.g., under 2% until Sep 2004). The FFR had a strong ripple effect on other interest rates like those for mortgages and car loans (see below graph). Thus, having the FFR so low for so long basically flooded the world with cheap money.

House of cards
In conjunction with this influx of easy cash, the real estate market underwent a meteoric rise in home values and, in addition, the banking system implemented an astounding reduction in eligibility requirements for would-be borrowers. Thus, not only did buying a home become a more tempting investment, but obtaining a loan to do so became absurdly easy. As my mentor put it: "no money down, no income documentation—your mom's cats could have gotten loans". As a result, the system enabled everyday people like Joe and Mario the Plumber to do things like buy homes beyond their means; or take out "second mortgages" on the seemingly ever-rising equity in their homes to buy things they didn't need like flat screen TVs and second houses.

A related issue is that mortgage salespeople (now affectionately known as "predatory lenders") had every incentive to sell high-risk loans (e.g., "subprime" and "adjustable rate" mortgages) to high-risk borrowers. Namely, the lenders got a commission for their sale and, what's more, the institution they worked for often turned around and sold the new mortgage (and its risk) to other entities like Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac. By the banks financing these loans to begin with, and by Freddie and Fannie buying such "mortgage-backed securities" from the banks, all parties put themselves at the incredibly risky mercy of (a) home prices continuing to rise and (b) borrowers continuing to make their mortgage payments.

Death of a party
Alas, circa 2006 the US housing bubble burst and home prices started to fall. Making matters worse for borrowers, by this point the Fed had started raising interest rates. Adjustable interest rates spiked, mortgage payments went way up, borrowers began to default on payments, and home foreclosures sprang up in droves. Soon enough, mortgage-back securities became "toxic assets" and the financial institutions who'd bet the farm on them—such as Bear Stearns, Freddie and Fannie, and Lehman Brothers—saw their risk come home to roost.

Bailout blues
In the wake of all this, stock prices have plummeted and the banks have taken huge losses, which has greatly impaired the banks' capacity and willingness to make new loans to businesses, individuals and each other. With lending (i.e., the glue that holds the economy together) in such dire straits, the US government has decided to step in with its projected $700b Troubled Assets Relief Program (TARP, aka bailout).

So, what is the bailout aimed to do? I think I'll quote my mentor (again) on that one:

The bailout package will help some because the government will buy from the banks $700 billion worth of the worst crap they have on their balance sheets. [The banks] will not get face value for this stuff - maybe somewhere north of the current very low market values which exist because there is essentially no market. In addition, the accounting changes that are part of the bill will allow the banks to sell the stuff, perhaps realize the losses over a period of time instead of immediately, and therefore have some capacity to lend, which may help lower rates for real people. As the economy is run by credit this is necessary but not sufficient for getting the economy going again. This will also help restore some confidence to arcane things like the interbank and commercial paper markets which are frozen or near frozen and in which rates are very high and impeding activity (emphasis mine).

In short, then, it seems the bailout aims to save the banks arses and, by doing so, help restore the banks' ability to lend and also restore overall confidence in the marketplace.

No time to blink
In conclusion, I trust that the elementary, bullet point regurgitation of other people's ideas presented above will put to rest rumors that I am anything but a novice when it comes to big time economics. That said, if the next president asks me to be treasury secretary, I will answer him yes because I have the confidence in my readiness, and know that you can't blink. You have to be wired in a way of being so committed to the mission, the mission that we're on, reform of this country, and victory in the war. You can't blink. So, I wouldn't blink then, if asked to be treasury secretary.

The Soft Sexism of Low Expectations

In the wake of Thursday night's VP debate between Sen Joe "Bosniak" Biden (D-DE) and Gov Sarah "Toxic mess on Main Street that's affecting Wall Street" Palin (R-AK), it seems like everyone's talking about how Palin "exceeded expectations".

But let's be frank: this didn't take much doing. As one reader of Andrew Sullivan's blog, put it:

She didn't poop her pants. So basically she did great!

To be fair, Palin accomplished far more than simply not defecating herself. Namely, she established herself as a very formidable 21st century, reality-TV-era, style-over-substance debater: she displayed a firm command of the talking points her campaign advisers had crammed into her; she effectively zinged her opponent several times over past inconsistencies between himself and Obama; she spoke in a confident, aggressive fashion (albeit quickly and a bit nervously at points); she avoided obvious gaffes and awkward silences; she did not look physically unattractive; she looked straight in the camera, smiled, talked and winked at the same time; she correctly pronounced "Ahmadinejad" five times (and four times in the same response!); and she implemented a folksy, "doggone it"-infused delivery style that made me want to drive a stake through my ears and gouge my own eyes out—but evidently connects with a vast swath of the US electorate.

So again, to be clear, she did "exceed expectations". But let's also talk about what she did not do. She rarely answered questions directly (if at all). She failed to explain how exactly she and John McCain would "change" Washington or end the war in Iraq. She utterly lacked substance. She failed to demonstrate—much like George W Bush—that she: (a) understands that the word "nuclear" has one "u", not two; or (b) possesses an ounce of intellectual curiosity or independent thought (e.g., the kind needed to stray even one inch from talking points and note cards). And, most crucially, according to this CNN poll, she convinced only 42% of viewers (compared to 87% for Biden) that she is qualified to assume the presidency.

Straight talk?
In my opinion, though, Palin's biggest shortcoming was highlighted during the first half of the debate after Biden pointed out to moderator Gwen Ifill that the Alaska Governor had not answered a question about deregulation. When Ifill then asked, "Would you like to have an opportunity to answer that before we move on?" Palin responded (see 2:45 mark in this 10-minute debate recap):

I'm still on the tax thing because I want to correct you on that again. And I want to let you know what I did as a mayor and as a governor. And I may not answer the questions that either the moderator or [Biden] want to hear, but I'm going to talk straight to the American people and let them know my track record also (emphasis mine).

Not going to answer the questions that either the moderator or Biden want to hear? What does that mean? What types of questions was she referring to? For some insight, let's review clips from the three interviews (with Charlie Gibson, Sean Hannity, and Katie Couric) that Palin granted prior to the debate (please watch):

Based on these interviews, it seems the questions Palin "may not answer" are those that: (a) cannot be sufficiently answered using memorized talking points; (b) refer to topics that she does not adequately grasp; and (c) press for specific examples to supplement the vague, ridiculous, rambling bullcrap that she (like every politician) often spews out.

Fortunately for Palin, when it came to the VP debate, the McCain campaign successfully insisted that:

[Her and Biden would] have shorter question-and-answer segments than those for the presidential nominees [which allowed] much less opportunity for free-wheeling, direct exchanges between the running mates. McCain advisers said they had been concerned that a loose format could leave Ms. Palin, a relatively inexperienced debater, at a disadvantage and largely on the defensive (emphasis mine).

Clearly, the plan worked. As evidenced by her above response to Ms Ifill, Palin used the debate's short 2:00 segments to her advantage. She did not have to be free-wheeling, but rather—thanks to a virtual lack of direct exchange and cross-examination—she successfully avoided specifics and glossed over questions she did not want to (or could not) answer with folksy, prepackaged, sound-bite-infested, stump speech drivel.

A sexist, disrespectful double standard
In my opinion, the "expectations" that Palin exceeded are—by the very nature of their lowness—demeaning and sexist. Had a male candidate for VP performed as Palin did Thursday night, I seriously doubt anyone would have lauded his performance as "better than expected"; or that that the conservative National Review editor Rich Lowry would have been smitten enough to write:

I'm sure I'm not the only male in America who, when [he] dropped [his] first wink, sat up a little straighter on the couch and said, "Hey, I think [he] just winked at me." And [his] smile. By the end, when [he] clearly knew [he] was doing well, it was so sparkling it was almost mesmerizing. It sent little starbursts through the screen and ricocheting around the living rooms of America. This is a quality that can't be learned; it's either something you have or you don't, and man, [he's] got it.

Rather, had Palin been a male, I suspect that the overwhelming majority of analysts would have bashed said candidate's performance, pronounced Biden the decisive winner, and lambasted John McCain's judgment for selecting said candidate to potentially be next in line to the presidency. To not apply the same standard to Palin is disrespectful to the fact that women are just as capable as men, and should be cheered and jeered based solely on their words and actions—not their identity.

Beyond gender
That said, this whole situation extends far beyond gender. For instance, it's inconceivable that female politicians like Sen Hillary Clinton (D-NY), Sen Elizabeth Dole (R-NC), Gov Kathleen Sebelius (D-KA) or Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice would receive this kind of treatment, either. Likewise, when former Rep Geraldine Ferraro (D-NY) ran for VP in 1984, the Mondale campaign certain didn't rewrite the debate format to avoid free-wheeling and direct exchanges, nor did they shield her from unscripted press conferences. In contrast to Ferraro, who faced reporters within days of her selection, Palin has yet to hold a press conference—36 days and counting since McCain picked her—which is both unprecedented and astounding.

So what is it about Gov Palin that warrants this special treatment? Is it her beauty pageant good looks, or because she's so clearly—borderline pitiably—unready for presidential prime time? I don't know. But if I have to listen to myself think about it any longer, I will drive a stake through my ears, so at this point I must digress.

Dig Out Your Soul: an Oasis Obsession Uncovered

As arguably the most devoted (and perhaps only) remaining Oasis fan living in America, 24 June 2008 marked quite a day for this bloke. The reason, of course (as if you didn’t know!), is because that’s when the band officially announced upcoming release details for their 24th UK single, "The Shock Of The Lightning" (out tomorrow), to be followed by the 6 Oct release of their 7th studio album: Dig Out Your Soul.

Given that coming to terms with Oasis' post-1997 fall from greatness—documented to great effect both in this book and this film—has been perhaps the defining struggle of my late adolescence/early adulthood, I was at first hesitant to blog about this new album, lest it dredge up any painful memories.

But after more thought, I decided I couldn’t resist. Informing said decision was MC Gallagher’s Law of Correlation, which states: “The more MC Gallagher likes an Oasis album’s cover art, the more he likes its songs”. That said, it seems auspicious that I quite like the new record's artwork (pictured above). But before I elaborate on that, allow me to start from the beginning of the band's discography.

For starters, one should interpret my thoughts on this matter with the foreknowledge that I regard Oasis' first two records, Definitely Maybe (1994) and (What's the Story) Morning Glory (1995), as the defining albums of my youth. Moreover, I consider the covers for said albums to be utterly iconic.

But then came Oasis' 3rd, 4th, and 5th records—Be Here Now (1997), SOTSOG (2000)^*, and Heathen Chemistry (2002)—which I once referred to (in a darker moment, mind you) as: "a cocaine-driven monumental f*ck up, 48 minutes of drivel, and the single lowest exemplar of artistic output in human history, respectively".

Given the Law of Correlation, I should have seen it coming: the self-indulgent cover of Be Here Now (above, left)—complete with a Rolls Royce in an effing swimming pool—was just as over-the-top as its songs’ bloated production; the New York City skyline depicted on SOTSOG (above, middle) evoked a certain Irish Americophile (Bono), which only heightened the disappointment of Oasis’ own electronica-influenced experimentation vis-à-vis other bands like, say, U2; whilst the blurred and rather unmemorable image atop Heathen Chemistry (above, right) foretold how little its tunes would impede the band’s continued fading from seemingly everyone’s mind but my own.

Thank God, then, that the simple yet appealing train shot gracing Oasis' sixth record, Don't Believe The Truth (2005), was correct in suggesting a band who'd finally gotten their act back on track.

All of this finally brings me back to the Dig Out Your Soul cover, which again, I fancy. First off, it's probably the giant cutout hands (and wishful thinking), but was Terry Gilliam involved at all? No, apparently it's the handiwork of London-based designer Julian House, who's previously done covers for Primal Scream and Stereolab among others. The vibrant colors and butterfly evoke this cover by The Kinks (a good thing) whereas that apple is surely an homage to The Beatles' self-founded record label or else a clue that Liam Gallagher's diet no longer consists solely of cigarettes and blow. And as far the piece's middle left portion is concerned, the row of crucifixes is a bit disconcerting, but I've chosen to focus instead on the turntable (classy) and lightbulb (not a CFL, but still).

In conclusion, to the one person still reading this (hi Mom!), I've decided to interpret what looks to be a butterfly emerging from a mushroom cloud as a good omen—especially when said image graces the newest album of a band you're desperately hoping can transcend a trifecta of mid-career bombs.

Then again, if the reader comments to this article are any indication, some might say my decidedly positive reaction to the Dig Out Your Soul artwork is a bit misguided. Here's one of my favorites (written 15 Jul 2008, 9:51am, under the pseudonym "mullet"):

Alternative album title:
"Dig out your sh*t and smear it on the cover"
No doubt when you play it, there'll be sh*t in your ears too.

But such talk does not phase me in the slightest. In fact, I am so confident that this new record will be tops that I've convinced brumpelstiltskin—despite Greenspanke's staunch objections—to invest in this $99 deluxe limited edition box set.

So what do you think? Did I make the right call? Or will this purchase go down in history as the most anyone's ever spent to effectively put sh*t into their own ears?

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^* SOTSOG = Standing On The Shoulder Of Giants (their typo, not mine).

Soda Point Induced Neurosis

Given our previously documented interest in Big Soda's largest reward programs (My Coke Rewards and Pepsi Stuff), brumpelstiltskin were quite intrigued to learn of a new "diagnosis" apparently being considered by psychiatrists in charge of revising the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM).

Namely, in yet another Mic's Tape exclusive, we've learned that the DSM-V (expected release date: May 2012) may include so-called "Soda Point Induced Neurosis" (aka SPIN). According to an anonymous email (signed, "A disgruntled former assistant to then-APA President Dr. Steven Sharfstein"), SPIN is characterized first and foremost by the "compulsive hoarding of soft drink bottle caps".

The email, which we received yesterday, went on to read: "To be diagnosed with SPIN, the patient must meet at least four of the following criteria during the same 2-week period, which must include (1) and (2)":

(1) Moderate to severe interest in at least one of the following:

• Free music, movies, and electronics
• Free sweepstakes entries
• Becoming a walking billboard for Coca-Cola and/or its corporate partners

(2) The patience to redeem 10 to 12-digit nonsense codes via manual online entry

(3) Continued hoarding despite embarrassing social/interpersonal consequences (e.g., being spotted by a co-worker while removing a Diet Pepsi Max bottle from a trash can)

(4) Recurrent hoarding despite future dental ramifications for self or loved ones (e.g., unintentionally enabling girlfriend's formerly under-control pop addiction)

(5) Brazen disregard for potential legal repurcussions (e.g., unlawful removal of empty cardboard 12-pack containers from local recycling facility)

(6) Diminished ability to make rational decisions (e.g., buying Pepsi instead of Cherry Coke—even though the latter's on sale and you like its taste better—because you're "one point away from that hot new David Archuleta download").

So, is SPIN really destined for the DSM-V? Or is our source for this story suffering from some kind of caffeine-induced psychosis? Only time will tell.

The Skinny on Why TMZ is Thick

While walking through my office waiting area the other day, a certain magazine cover (pictured right) caused me to do a double take.

At first glance, it looked like it could have been an Onion article: a picture of a beautiful, healthy-looking celebrity—oddly paired with a “Stop Calling Me Fat!” byline—accompanied, no doubt, by a satirical article cleverly ridiculing our culture’s increasingly twisted ideals of “normal” weight and physical attractiveness.

But in actuality it was the 17 Dec 2007 issue of People magazine, in which the cover story detailed the reaction of actress/singer Jennifer Love Hewitt's (aka J. LoH) after gossip website TMZ.com published the above photo alongside the headline: "We know what you ate this summer, Love -- everything!"

Hewitt responded directly via her own website; here is an excerpt:

I've sat by in silence for a long time now about the way women's bodies are constantly scrutinized. To set the record straight, I'm not upset for me, but for all of the girls out there that are struggling with their body image.

A size 2 is not fat! Nor will it ever be. And being a size 0 doesn't make you beautiful.

Hewitt's concern for those "struggling with their body image" is very well-founded, especially since numerous scientific studies such as this one suggest a "direct effect of media exposure [to a thin ideal body image for women] on eating disorder symptoms".

Interestingly, Hewitt has been back in the headlines recently, only this time it's for having lost weight. The decision to seemingly flaunt her successful diet on the cover of Us Weekly has led some to question the consistency of her stance.

While there's little doubt that Hewitt's words and actions convey a mixed message, the stand she took against the media should be commended all the same. Our culture's distorted, unrealistic and unhealthy "thin ideal" needs to be challenged, and media outlets that shamelessly reinforce it—like TMZ—should be reviled.

Nobody Expected a Womanish Politician!

History's great events warrant commemoration.

On Thursday night—45 years to the day since Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech—Sen Barack Obama (D) paid tribute to MLK prior to becoming the first African American candidate to accept the Presidential nomination of any major US political party.

And Friday morning—some 38 years since a trio of Cardinals led by Michael Palin unexpected crashed a Monty Python sketch (see below video)—Alaska Governor Sarah Palin unexpectedly crashed the 2008 US Presidential race when Sen John McCain (R) announced her as his running mate.

Given Palin's striking lack of national political name recognition, the US news media has spent much of the past 48 hours trying to decipher the rationale behind McCain's surprise decision. Well, here in brumpelstiltskin, rather than decipher, we decided to pick up the phone and call McCain's campaign chief, Steve Schmidt [pictured, below left]. In a Mic's Tape exclusive, here's what Schmidt had to say regarding the logic behind the Palin choice:

Our chief weapon is fear...fear and—wait, you asked about our campaign's strategy in general, right? Oh, about the strategy behind the Palin choice, specifically?

Well, on that front, our chief weapon is surprise...surprise and a pair of X chromosomes—our TWO weapons are a lack of a Y chromosome and surprise...and energy proficiency—our THREE weapons are an XX sex chromosome, surprise, proficiency on the issue of energy...and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope's position on abortion—our FOUR...no—amongst our weapons...amongst our weaponry are such elements as—let me start again...

Amongst Palin's weaponry are such diverse elements as: womanishness, surprise, energy efficiency, an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope's position on abortion, and some nice executive experience—Oh damn! [at which point he hung up]

Regarding Schmidt's final point, Palin will indeed bring the GOP ticket a dose of executive experience; granted, she's only been Alaska's Governor for two years, but that's nonetheless two more years than Senators McCain, Obama, and Joe Biden (Obama's VP) combined. In addition, she's clearly a formidable voice on energy/oil (a huge political issue in Alaska), which signals that McCain will continue to "drill" into voters minds the assertion that whereas the Republicans would lower gas prices by tapping offshore (and perhaps ANWR) oil supplies, Barack Obama would merely hand out tire gauges.

On the topic of Palin as a person, I've discovered that she: (a) seems quite likable; (b) has a son who will soon head to Iraq; and (c) has faced significant adversity in her personal life (e.g., her four-month-old son, Trig, has Down Syndrome). That said, all of these points can also be attributed to Joe Biden, so it's difficult to imagine that the RML (Running Mate Likablitity) factor will swing votes disproportionately in either direction.

Otherwise, while Palin is obviously knowledgeable on Alaska's state economy, I've seen no evidence to suggest that she's especially qualified on the national economy (like, say, Mitt Romney), which will do nothing to reassure those concerned by McCain's own Dec 2007 remark that: "The issue of economics is not something I've understood as well as I should".

Furthermore, Palin appears to have zero record on foreign policy. One of the few comments of hers to have surfaced in reference to a foreign policy issue stems from a Dec 2006 interview for Alaska Business Monthly. In response to the question, "How do you feel about sending more troops into battle, as President Bush is suggesting", she said:

I've been so focused on state government, I haven't really focused much on the war in Iraq. I heard on the news about the new deployments, and while I support our president, Condoleezza Rice and the administration, I want to know that we have an exit plan in place; I want assurances that we are doing all we can to keep our troops safe. Every life lost is such a tragedy. I am very, very proud of the troops we have in Alaska, those fighting overseas for our freedoms, and the families here who are making so many sacrifices. [emphasis mine]

Many voters will find this apparent lack of foreign policy experience concerning in someone who would be second-in-line to the Presidency—especially since McCain has a history of health problems and, if elected, would be the oldest President in US history. Moreover, Palin's lack of experience in general should completely undercut McCain's argument (on which he'd gained significant traction) that his campaign boasts a thicker resumé than Obama/Biden.

The more I think about it, the more McCain's choice reeks of an assumption that would-be Hillary Clinton supporters will be either angry or gullible enough to conclude that McCain—simply because he's chosen a female running mate—is somehow more in tune with their interests than Sen Obama. That Gov Palin explicitly praised Clinton during her speech on Friday only heightens one's sense that this was largely a political ploy aimed at Hillary Democrats.

However, given the stark contrast between (a) the GOP/McCain's platform and (b) the political priorities of those he's trying to court—not to mention Sen Clinton's enthusiastic embrace of Sen Obama at last week's Democratic Convention—I cannot imagine this apparent ploy working to McCain's advantage. To the contrary, I predict that the number of Hillary Democrats who will now vote McCain because his VP is a woman will be roughly offset by the number of paternalistic Republicans who will now not vote McCain because his VP is a woman.

In conclusion, Palin is an accomplished and impressive politician who may very well prove to be a quick learner when it comes to campaigning and debating on national economic and foreign policy issues. But if she isn't quick on her feet, McCain will surely come to regret his choice.

Gullible's Travels

Recent events have been quite momentous, at least to the extent that never before had all six members of Brumpelstiltskin (BS) vied so aggressively for the rights to document the same topic. Greenspanke, for instance, jumped at the financial implications; whilst Michail dubbed it an ideal tie-in to his planned piece on Presidential historian Allan Lichtman; and MC Gallagher, with not a hint of sarcasm, decreed it the stuff of rock operas.

In the end, though, the events were judged so ridiculous and coincidental, so cruel yet comical—so, well, Dickensian—that we decided that I (as the closest thing Mic's Tape has to a literateur) should have the honor of attempting to do them justice. So here, without further ado, is the recent tale of a certain (unnamed) BS member's first 48 hours in his new apartment.

Chapter I
On 31 Jul 2008, after weeks of tempestuous sorting and tumultuous cleaning amid the howling winds of procrastination; after hours of bitter packing amongst the frigid limitations of a 14-foot U-Haul; after nearly backing said U-Haul into the porch of his soon-to-be former residence, thus commencing a turbulent transport over the roiling potholes of cobblestone streets; and, finally, after nearly securing sweet shelter (for both himself and his belongings) from the chaotic storm of moving, our young hero naively closed the auto-deadbolting door to his new abode—thereby locking 10% of his belongings, four friends, and himself without; and 90% of his belongings; one friend’s purse, and his house KEY within!

Chapter II
In response, rather than pay Landlord a scorchingly steep after-hours unlocking fee of $50 (before his lease had technically even begun, no less), our protagonist opted to sojourn at a friend's, where he lay awake, tossing and burning in vexation until the seething heat of self-reproach at last yielded to sleep. He awoke the morning of 1 Aug 2008 and, with the searing smoke of his recent blunder still thick in his mind, drove to Landlord for the spare key, and thence back to his new parking lot where, with his final load of belongings in tow, he prepared to re-enter his new abode, and thus extinguish any last embers of exasperation.

But alas, after shifting into Park he realized that he could not remove his car KEY from its ignition. Believing it to be physically stuck (and not bound by electrical glitch), he ingenuously responded by removing a set of pliers from his IKEA toolbox (situated irresistibly beside him in the passenger seat), which of course resulted not in success but in quite literally breaking his key in two—half in said pliers and half still in the ignition—hence reigniting the fiery flames of frustration!

Chapter III
Soon after phoning Mechanic to order an expensive ignition removal device, our hero somehow managed to remove the car key using the considerably less expensive apparatuses known as thumb and forefinger, and thus canceled the aforementioned order only to then, upon checking his mail, make the wrenching discovery that his postal box lacked a latch for locking, which he knew could come back to screw him should his hammered college-aged neighbors decide to open his box and theft coveted Netflix envelopes (or other valuable parcels). At once, he bolted back to the phone to request prompt maintenance from Landlord and, on the following afternoon of 2 Aug 2008, he returned home to find new hardware on his postal box.

But lo and behold, into said hardware his mail KEY no longer fit! Now on the verge of going completely nuts (and convinced that surely a new key had been left on the premises), he proceeded to implement a lengthy, scouring search of his new dwelling. And just when we thought every last inch had been sifted through, and just as he prepared to clamp his head within the liberating vice of a stiff drink, he looked up and saw—there, in the most obvious and rational of places—his new mail key taped to the inside of his new front door. "Oh, what a massive tool I am", he thought to himself as he grabbed the key. And from there he could only smile.

A Day Late, a Five Cent Deposit Short

I felt like I'd shown up five minutes late to the Duran Duran vocalist audition to find Simon Le Bon already in the band. I was devastated, crestfallen, inconsolable.

For a good two years I'd been crafting this concept of a website: a user-driven, wiki-style index of if and where (relative to your zip code) anything and everything can be recycled.

Have a copy of George W. Bush's A Charge to Keep that you no longer want, but no one will take, let alone buy? No problem, your nearby facility, City Carton, just added book recycling to its repertoire. Does your company go through loads of ink cartridges that are ending up in landfills? Well, this company will pay you to let them recycle those. These are but a couple of the potential success stories I envisioned.

Anyway, I had the concept, the desire, and even a badass web design company to help make it happen. All I needed was a name.

And then, about a month ago, it came to me: Recyclopedia.

There it was. I felt like a schoolboy again, I was so excited! Within minutes, I called a friend to ask him if he was interested in helping. He was. From there, I began to brainstorm the logistics (possible costs, etc). But then, on a whim, I googled "Recyclopedia", which led me to THIS.

Recyclopedia.net? With a mixture of horror and wonder, I read the site's description:

This is a website to help you find information on how to correctly dispose of things. First choose your location and then find what you're trying to get rid of on the list. We'll tell you whether it can go out with the trash, in your blue box, to a charity or if it needs special attention.

That there was a website out there whose mission so closely paralleled my own, that I could believe. But that it literally had the exact same name, that was just eerie.

Well, for the last month I sulked—like a big, bitter baby—about being beaten to the punch. After more reflection, though, I now realize that all that matters is that someone has put this idea into effect. So, if your city/county is missing (like mine is) from Recyclopedia's small but growing database of participating areas, please join me in heeding their call:

If you don't see your location listed, drop us a line and we'll tell you how to get your area online.

Yellow Beer Challenge

Between the ages of 18 and 24, I made the unlikely transition from bar-shunning teetotaler to pub-rating beer enthusiast.

While my taste in beer has no doubt become a bit snooty—take my infatuation with imperial stouts—I like to think myself less a snob than a fan of the craft as a whole.

As such, it was an absolute privilege to partake in the first ever "Yellow Beer Challenge" (YBC), held on Jun 28, in which myself and seven other imbibers faced off in a blind taste test of various American light beers.

When asked why he created the YBC, the event's founder/emcee (code name: "Seamus O'Chihak") put it this way:

Look, any geek off the street can tell a Surly Darkness from a Lindemans Framboise. But if your palate's refined enough to distinguish an Old Milwaukee from a Michelob Golden, well, then you've shown me something.

The rules were simple. First, O'Chihak unveiled his five mystery brews, each in its own unmarked container; and second, he handed each participant a list of nine possible brand identities. We then tasted, described and guessed the identity of each beer. Finally, when all five had been sipped, we ranked them from 1 (best) to 5 (worst).

The results are summarized below (beers listed, from left to right, in order of presentation). Included in the data table are the percentage of raters who correctly identified each beer; the final YBC rankings; and, for comparison purposes, each lager's rating on the "beer connoisseur" websites Beer Advocate (BA), given in letter grades, and Rate Beer (RB), given in percentiles from 0/worst to 100/best:

As you can see, despite being the clear "critical" favorite, LaCrosse could only muster a disappointing tied-for-third finish. Rather, the event's big winner turned out to be PBR, which basically "blue" away even its closest competitor, Bud Light, which itself managed an impressive Silver despite a "0th percentile" rating from Rate Beer.

Interestingly—nay, fascinatingly—while our panel of eight deemed PBR best and Busch Light worst, an astounding 63% of judges wrongly identified the taste of Busch Light (the worst beer) with the name of PBR (the best beer)! By contrast, not one judge correctly identified PBR as PBR. This finding suggests an intriguing phenomenon. Namely, while people seemed to intellectualize PBR as being the worst (e.g., "This beer tastes like crap—it must be PBR" or "This beer is great—it can't be PBR"), their more primal instincts (i.e., taste buds) told a different story altogether.

Equally captivating were the judges' descriptions. For instance, one rater described LaCrosse as "an unfortunate beer, with a hint of misery, that finishes despite your best effort", while another judge, in reference to Busch Light (which he mistook for Icehouse), remarked, "I'd pay $18.95 a case and drink it in high school".

On a personal note, I was proud to learn that I completely mixed up my three favorite lagers: identifying PBR as Busch Light, Busch Light as LaCrosse, and LaCrosse as PBR. Call me crazy, but in the perfect symmetry of such a failure, I can't help but feel like a success.

Netflix Maintains the Right Profile

Countless couples Clash concerning cinema. While one digs romantic dramas like A Place in the Sun, the other prefers classic westerns like Red River, and so on. But riding to the rescue in recent years has been Netflix, the DVD-rental-by-mail service whose "Profile" feature offers an ideal antidote to film-related fighting (aka "flickering").

In brief, Profiles allow couples (or families, roommates, etc) to join Netflix under the same account (in terms of billing), but maintain completely independent sub-accounts with unique queues, friends, ratings and tailor-made recommendations. This way two friends, as an example, can split the cost of the 4 DVDs at-a-time plan (for $12 each/mo) without sacrificing any of the personalized features they'd get if they each purchased separate 2-at-a-time plans (for $14/mo).

As beneficiaries of said service, Brumpelstiltskin were absolutely gutted when, on Jun 25, Netflix announced intentions to eliminate Profiles. Our finance guru, Greenspanke, responded by downgrading Netflix stock to "Triple Sell" whilst MC Gallagher even threatened to "join the fooking competition".

We were not alone in our angst. Indeed, a chorus of disgruntled fans of the service sounded off on blogs and forums, while others banded together via both an online petition ("Save Netflix Profiles") and a Facebook group ("People annoyed that Netflix is eliminating profiles").

And lo and behold, it worked. On Jun 30, Netflix sent its members an email, the first line of which simply read: "You spoke, and we listened. We are keeping Profiles". Within minutes, the usually cautious Greenspanke upgraded NFLX straight past "Don't Buy" all the way to "Risky".

On its official blog, Netflix further clarified both their initial decision and the subsequent about-face:

Because of an ongoing desire to make our website easier to use, we believed taking a feature away that is only used by a very small minority would help us improve the site for everyone. Listening to our members, we realized that users of this feature often describe it as an essential part of their Netflix experience. Simplicity is only one virtue and it can certainly be outweighed by utility.

Call us naive, but such language is welcomely candid coming from a big business: the original "sin" seems to have been genuinely well-intentioned; the apology, gracious and humble. But such actions should also boost profits: not only has a great service to customers been spared, but in the process great customer service has been proven.

In others words, while it was only balk/bluster to begin with, we won't be joining the competition any time soon.

Long Haired Freaky People Need Not Apply?

Question: Could this candidate (pictured left) be elected President?

According to an exclusive Mic's Tape/Gallup poll of 706 likely voters, the answer is a resounding (94%) "No".

Why is this? Is it because voters are not yet ready to elect an androgynous commander in chief? You might think so, but according to our survey "Gender Bending" would only hinder 11% of the populace. Rather, the overwhelming reason why voters (82% of our sample) would not support this candidate is, quite simply, "Long Hair".

Still playing the hair card
Given recent events, our survey is no mere hypothetical exercise. On the contrary, while America might not want to admit it, Hillary Clinton's recent decision to end her 2008 Presidential bid has undeniably thrust "hairism" back into the fore of US politics.

The failed candidacy of Mrs Clinton—once considered a shoo-in for her party's nomination—has left many of her supporters searching for someone to blame. While potential scapegoats range from the media to the often damaging exploits of former President Bill Clinton, our survey points to a deeper-rooted explanation.

"I attended one of Hillary's rallies in Scranton", said Stanley Hallauer, a 79-year-old retired construction worker and one of our respondents. "I liked what she had to say until she took off the construction hat she'd been wearing and I realized she had long hair. Right then, I shouted, 'Imagine that, huh, me voting for you!', and just stormed out. Seriously, she looked like a godd*mn hippie".

Such antagonism highlights the apparent failure of Mrs Clinton's "short-hair revolution" (SHR) which, according to this definitive chronicle of Hillary's Hair, began with her 2001 election to the US Senate. Implemented (presumably) to confront speculation that "if [her hair] was long, she wouldn't be taken seriously [as a Presidential candidate]", the SHR culminated in The Huffington Post's Feb '08 declaration that Hillary had at last obtained "presidential hair". But alas, it seems the revolution did not go short enough.

Confounding our fathers?
While Article II of the US Constitution clearly states that "No person [...] shall be [...] eligible to [the Office of the Presidency] who shall not have attained to the Age of thirty five Years", there are no such limitations (e.g., "not greater than 3.5 centimeters") placed on Presidential hair length. And given our founding fathers' fashions, is this really any wonder? Who can forget the original George W's prolific ponytail, John Adams' lusciously lengthy locks, or Thomas Jefferson's "Monticello Mop"? And yet, could any of these venerated figures be elected President in 2008?

All this begs the question: When did the American electorate become so dead set against long-haired leaders? Professor Bruce Meyfrark, formerly of Temple University, has researched this topic extensively for his upcoming book, "Founding Follicles". In it, he writes:

Many attribute hairism to a Tea Partyesque, anti-British reaction to Beatlemania, but in truth the movement predated the Fab Four by over a century. Indeed, not since James K. Polk (1845-9) has our nation elected a long-haired President, and a major party hasn't fielded a maned candidate since the Democrats/Liberal Republicans nominated Horace Greeley way back in 1872.

Whatever its root cause, the bottom line is that hairism remains an unseemly flake of dandruff on the proverbial shoulder that is our great country. In John McCain and Barack Obama, we are once again left with two close-cut candidates lacking the one "change" necessary to help our nation finally confront this issue. But it's not too late. With five months left before election day, there is still time for McCain and Obama to let their hair grow out and, in doing so, let the "Long-Hair Revolution" begin!

Losing My (Artistic) Edge

I think it was Goethe who said: "He is happiest, be he king or peasant, who finds trust in his hairstylist".

Wait, there's no such quote? Damn. That would have made such a great opener. All right, let's start all over again.

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New England 1, Midwest 0. In the ongoing battle for cultural superiority, that is the latest score.

The reason, of course, is "The Artistic Edge" hair salon's recent relocation from Chicagoland, Illinois to Framingham, Massachusetts (79 Main St, Suite 103).

An exquisite skill with the blade
It has been my pleasure—and that of the entire Brumpelstiltskin blogging troupe—to be a confident client of The Artistic Edge for seven gloriously stylish years. Never had MC Gallagher let someone trim his unibrow, nor Greenspanke his neck hair, until we met Jen, the salon's founder and ace stylist, whose skill with the blade makes Sweeney Todd look like the Dabbling Barber of Geek Street.

Those who knew her as a young prodigy agreed that Jen was born to do hair—that it was in her blood—and many questioned if formal training would even be necessary. But the finest education she would receive: first under the tutelage of her grandma (herself an accomplished hair stylist); and later through the 1500-hour program of world-renowned cosmetology academy, Pivot Point International. Thus equipped with a first-rate fusion of nature and nurture, Jen graduated from Pivot Point in 2001. Soon after, the Artistic Edge was born.

While the salon offers a range of advanced services (e.g., color, highlights, lowlights), personally I’ve always received the traditional men’s cut. That said, there’s nothing traditional about Jen’s approach even to this basic service, which creatively combines a firm grasp of current popular trends with an instinctive awareness of individual wants and needs. Click here for an exclusive Mic’s Tape-sponsored coupon offering first-time clients a 20% discount off any of Jen’s services—which also include updo’s for special occasions (sample updo, above right).

Chairside manner par excellence
But besides being a master of her craft, Jen’s personality and demeanor—not to mention the salon itself (pictured above and below)—place The Artistic Edge among the most comfortable and inviting of salon atmospheres. Indeed, she’s the kind of stylist you suspect could have won the friendliest superlative in her high school yearbook.

I did not fully appreciate this latter point until Jen’s relocation left me in need of a replacement, and forced me down the street to the neighborhood Cost Cutters. "God, how many cowlicks do you have?" the stylist inquired as I sat down, thus launching a steady barrage of insults and barbs far sharper than the shears she would use to massacre my once-magnificent mane. “Do you even use conditioner?” she continued, a look of disgust on her face, before exclaiming: "Ugh, your hair is getting all over me"!

The contrast could not have been more profound. Like Shakespeare's Lear, cast overnight from kingly castle to forbidding tempest, I entered Cost Cutters expecting the royal treatment, but left feeling (and looking) like a Pumpkin Pie Haircutted Fool.

In the wake of such experience, it is with great zeal that I call upon New Englanders everywhere to capitalize on the glamorous gift that has landed in your midst. Trust one who knows: a salon combining a time-tested, hair-designing prowess with client-focused personality is a rare commodity to be cherished. So get thee with haste to The Artistic Edge, my friends, for a planeload of chic-deprived Midwesterners will be right behind you!

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Mike-Michael (pictured left, before his first visit to The Artistic Edge) will look like this once more if he doesn't book himself a ticket to Boston ASAP.