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.

Rate Your Music

When asked if I'm on Facebook, my standard response of "No, but I am on Rate Your Music" is usually met by a blank stare that seems to say this.

So, what is Rate Your Music (RYM)? To put it verbosely, it's a delightfully handy online wonderland of user-driven musical minutiae in which ratings yield recommendations, like-minded pop/rock/soul mates are unearthed, and “critics” (i.e., paid music nerds) take a backseat to "normal people” (i.e., unpaid music nerds) like me (visit my profile here).

Or, to put it simply, it’s a great way to discover new music. Here’s how:

First, if you invest a little time and “catalog” (aka make a list of) and rate (on a scale of 0.5-5.0 stars) your music collection, RYM will (much like Netflix’ website) generate custom recommendations based on your input. It will also create a “compatibility list” of other RYM users whose tastes most closely resemble your own, and then allow you to peruse their collections. More recently, they’ve implemented a “predicted rating” feature which “represents how strongly RYM thinks you will like” any given album. Using this tool, I can tell, for example, that I should heed a friend's recent advice that I check out Ágætis Byrjun by Sigur Rós (predicted rating: 4.46).

Second, it’s also interesting—and this doesn’t require making any ratings—to simply look and see what “average” people think is best. For instance, this list of the RYM users' top albums of all-time has led me to many a gem (such as Odessey & Oracle by The Zombies). This can also prove useful in deciding where to begin with a certain band (like when a glance at The Cure's discography led me to start with Disintegration). And then there are the inevitable surprises, like when I learned that—shockingly—the top-rated single of 1985 is not Eddie Murphy's immortal classic, "Party All The Time" (video here).

Ronaldo's Own Personal Crying Game

It once seemed inevitable that the dominant sports story for Spring 2008 would be the May 12 return of American Gladiators. That was the way it was supposed to go down, anyway.

But as the last few weeks have shown, life is full of surprises. Just ask Ronaldo.

Ronaldo, age 31, is a Brazilian football (aka soccer) superstar, a three-time former World Player of the Year (1996, 1997, 2002), and the most prolific goalscorer in FIFA World Cup history. However, it's an off-the-field "hat trick" that's earned him headlines as of late. Cue the video:

Our non-Portuguese-speaking readers may be a bit confused by this clip, but perhaps caught the words "prostituta" and "travesti"? These words were used because on April 28, Ronaldo (to quote the BBC's Jane Hadden): "left a nightclub with what he thought were three female prostitutes and took them to a motel. It was only after he got there that he discovered the women were actually men".

Ohh...

For the full details (including an excellent video clip in English), I'd recommend this story by BBC News.

To put it briefly, though, once Ronaldo realized there were "too many balls on the field", he promptly signaled his disinterest and offered the prostitutes $600 for their time. While two accepted, the third, Albertino, threatened to leak the incident to the Internet unless Ronaldo paid him $30,000.

In response, Ronaldo went to the Rio police and fessed up, and now Albertino is being investigated for attempted extortion. In his testimony to police, Ronaldo said: "I'm not going to pay [this money]. I may be publicly condemned, but I did nothing wrong".

While Ronaldo is indeed blameless from a legal standpoint (prostitution is not against the law in Brazil), many still question whether he, in fact, "did nothing wrong". Nonetheless, it's strangely refreshing to see a superstar athlete just come clean for once. In the era of Steroids and Co., it's hard to imagine many US athletes following suit.