ASCII by Jason Scott

Jason Scott's Weblog

Bring on the Pain #3: OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE —

Hooray, Bring on the Pain is now a series.

I originally gave a list of places I was writing to or looking into or otherwise interacting with to do the next generation of BBS Documentary availability. Preferably digital distribution, which I count cable/satellite in as well as radio (?) or anything else where I, personally, am not sending out copies for people, but they are getting it somewhere and I’m making some small amount of bucks at. The list has expanded and there’s no point in listing a bunch of “I’m gonna” bullet points when I’d much rather list some “I did” bullet points.

But if possible, I’d like to occasionally touch on some learned or re-learned wisdom on my little journey, because it truly is about the journey and not the destination in this case. I already “got there” when I finished the BBS Documentary, the rest of this is sweet, delicious, digital gravy. So let’s talk about subjects that I hope inspire others.

I can’t fully explain why I have this need, once I’ve done stuff or gotten well along on something, to turn around and shout to people what I just did and what I learned. I am sure at least part of it is that on multiple occasions in my past, I relied on someone else laying a lot of fears at rest or more importantly proving that something is actually possible, even if I think their result ain’t so hot. At least they did it… and I welcomed that advice and knowledge and saved myself untold amounts of pain.

To that end, then, let me give some advice.

If you are working on a big project, with “big project” tentatively defined as “a project that takes long enough that you go to sleep and wake up multiple times before it is finally finished” and especially if your project involves other entities, you will encounter at least a few cases of entirely lame stupid shit that will amaze you. You will doubt that this lame stupid shit is normal, expected and a part of the process. You might in fact think that it’s you. It’s not you.

Some of us have had to deal with lame shit all our lives. Some of it is so ingrained we barely recognize it as lame shit any more (things once made of strong metal are now weak plastic, advertising is pervasive, public space is no longer considered requirement for dressing nicely), but that’s just low-level stuff; I mean the lame shit that people deal with like being denied stuff they need for absolutely no good reason, or being given poor quality product because they’re in no position to argue. That sort of lame is out there too; please don’t think I’m diminishing it here.

But when you set off to do a new thing, like make a film or a song or build a structure or learn to drive, you will have a heightened sense of things going just right. You’ll want to get things just so so you’ll be paying attention where maybe otherwise you wouldn’t be quite so hyperfocused on the little things. And I am telling you now that you will inevitably encounter stupid shit indeed, shit that will make you wonder how the world even functions when all these little secret rules and made-up fakery and terrible contingencies are propping the whole jalopy up.

When the industrial revolution happened, more than ever before, a process of optimization happened. Processes which were done by people could now be done by machines and that required a rebooting of thought, of interaction with the world. In one way, this was great – we could make stuff better and faster. In other ways, not so good: the machines were huge, occasionally ate children operating them, and the resultant product had to lose quite a bit along the way the be easily consistent into the hundreds or thousands of copies.

We are now in the process of cutting over a whole new range of processes; processes again thought to be the place of human beings but which machines can do in analogue; sorting, collating, designating, compiling. Yes, a human being will do a better job but a human being can’t do millions of images either, so there’s an advantage butting against a disadvantage here, and the machine is going to win – it’s cheaper and faster, ultimately, or it will be once we downgrade the quality and expect a new generation of people to accept lame shit as the baseline.

So here you are, person who is coming into the whole mess, with your creation or business or situation, and you see stuff that is lame and stupid and weird and inefficient and you will go “What the hell is going on here?”

Sometimes, well, often, the person you will deal with in these situations will have no idea why this is the case. It’s the way it is and they do it this way and welcome to the center ring, newest stuffed-in-car clown! Get ready for your pie! And you will see all the pieces there, all the things lying together, and you will think you could point this out, but the fact is, everyone knows this is the way, and someone, somewhere might even know the reason why, but on the other hand there might not be any reason why at all.

Concrete examples, you say. Fine.

  • When you order items to be duplicated, especially in the thousands, you will be told that you can’t get it in the quantity you ordered; it is likely to be anywhere up to 10 percent over or under. You will not be charged for stuff you didn’t get, but you are in no way guaranteed the numbers.
  • The definition for “you need a permit for that” in larger cities if you shoot video or film is “you put a tripod on the ground”. Therefore some movie-makers put their cameras on tripods on trucks, so they don’t touch the ground. Or shoot out a window while moving in a car, again obviating the need for a permit.

So what got me to remember to tell you this was that I contacted a digital distribution service (Tesco), one of these sites that makes films available. They have a few movies up and they offer you ways to buy and otherwise get the movies (although they still seem to prefer WMV for its delicious DRM) and so I thought it couldn’t hurt to at least contact them and get terms.

There was no e-mail address, just a technical support address. So I hit THEM with a request. And said “Hi, I have a movie and want to talk about distributing through you. How can I do that?”

This is what I got:

Dear Jason

Thank you for your email.

I am sorry but we are not able to deal with this type of enquiry in
the Customer Service Centre.  I would have to ask you to re-direct the information
you have sent us to our Buying Team.  You can contact our Buyers by writing to:

The Buying Team
Tesco Stores Ltd.
New Tesco House.
Delamare Road
Waltham Cross
Cheshunt.
Hertfordshire.
EN8 9SL.

Our Buyers do receive many enquiries and, I am sorry we cannot supply telephone numbers
or email addresses.

I am sure that if the team would like more details of the product from you, they will write
back as soon as possible.

If you have any further queries please do not hesitate to contact us at
customer.service@tesco.co.uk quoting TES5811116X.

Kind Regards
Gary Falconer
Customer Service Manager
Tesco Customer Service

Now, what’s being said here is “Because you want to distribute a movie through us, you must write us a letter and mail us in the UK through postal mail and if we’re interested we’ll mail back”.

I have a little internal rule: if you have to go through HR to apply for a job, you have failed. I believe this because my experience is that HR’s job is to tell you to fuck right off, because we’re looking for superstars, and it’s the executives who pal around at various functions and places who go “well now, let’s see what we can do for you” and THEN HR’s job is to settle where your paychecks go.

I wrote to technical support because this is the only way to contact Tesco. This is apparently the same as going for a job through HR, because they’re making me jump through a lot of hoops with my movie for the privilege of begging a place to distribute my movie.

It’s fucking lame and stupid. But I’ll certainly do it, because I said I was going to try this whole thing out.

But it’s not me. It’s the way this place works and a lot of places work this way. That’s how it is.

So cheer up, emo kid. It could be worse. And will be.


Inventory —

The problem with the GET LAMP web presence is that it’s sort of full of stuff and then not. I just recently got a spate of is this still on? is this still happening? e-mails and I decided that it was time to put a weblog dedicated to it up so that I could update that. This one stays in action but the other is going to split off and take over the duties for the documentary. You might see doubled entries (I might re-use previous entries from this weblog here, as necessary) and other such foolishness, but if you’re keeping track of the movie, it will help a lot.

The new weblog is at inventory.getlamp.com. I’m using WordPress over there because I intend to get out of the Movable Type business sooner rather than later and this will let me ease into the new features and potential for enjoyable stuff. It took me a very short time to get used to it and I already miss a few features over here (to be somewhat fair, my version of movable type is older than the WordPress version, so obviously some stuff is missing).

Anyway, you get to see me touching it up before it goes public.


Bring on the Pain #2: The DRM in Conundrum —

So another commenter asked me about what I would do about DRM associated with digital distribution, considering my pretty strong beliefs on it. Well, it gets complicated and weird, but I hope I can justify myself or at least make sense.

The comment asks me if I’m talking about distributing through PBS or did I mean broadcasting. I mean broadcasting. Sorry for being misleading. That’s what I mean when I talk about video or cable channels; where they show people the movie and the word gets around about it. And as I discussed previously, cable channels are stellar at putting hard work up at popular times like 8:30am and then saying “gee, we didn’t get the numbers”. But let’s keep our hearts and minds open!

My position on DRM is actually similar to Linus Torvalds’, which is not compatible with Richard Stallman’s, and somewhat perpendicular to some other “copyfighters”. I have no problem with the idea of DRM per se, any more than I have issues with locks or controls in general. The idea of DRM, you see, is a pretty good one, even if it’s pretty pie in the sky. DRM is a core tenet of video games, of books, of a lot of creations, and the issue comes down to the methodology that the DRM is implemented by.

It is very difficult to pirate a gondola ride in Venice. It requires Venice, a Gondola, and a Gondola operator. Most of us who might want a gondola ride in Venice in our homes would be pretty tasked to do so; although, and I do contest this, it is possible – import lots of things from Venice (or stuff that looks like it), build a canal, fly in a Gondola operator, or an actor who could pilot a Gondola. This is, in fact, what the Las Vegas casino The Venetian did. Now, someone who has been to Venice might find that the Venetian’s gondola experience is lacking, but that’s kind of the nature of copies, isn’t it – they often lack some aspect of the original, and the consumer has to ask themselves if they are not getting their money’s worth. Certainly if it costs more to be at the Venetian than Venice, then yeah, you’re probably cheating yourself out. But for a lot of people, The Venetian will do. Look, I warned you about “complicated and weird”.

Venice’s location, brand name, and tradition of both Gondola building and operation are their DRM; very difficult to duplicate, leaving you with a shadow of the original. The intricate components, and interlocking of them, compose the “lock” that prevents easy duplication.

Compare this with making a paper airplane. You can go right here and make a paper airplane easily, anywhere in the world. You can even avoid using Ben’s excellent instructions and make one on your own without consulting him. You need a piece of paper and air. the DRM on paper airplanes is weak – the instructions are so simple, the process so complete, that you need not think about the issue of copying – it very nearly copies itself (a kid sees a paper airplane being folded and can do it themselves).

Now, there is a very possible chance that a percentage of people totally on the fence about Venice vs. Venetian will choose Venetian over Venice, screwing over potential dollars for Venice. And should Sony produce a Paper Airplane movie and sell paper airplanes, people will make their own paper airplanes, and some might even draw a Sony logo or design on it. If the paper airplane/gondola crazes increase to a sufficient amount, some internal barrier will be breached and someone, somewhere, the kind of person who drinks themselves to sleep or who thinks MTV invented the music video will go “Now wait a minute, this is devastating to our business.” And then a Very Stupid Thing will happen.

In this event, the DRM was sufficient until the time it became insufficient, a time that was rare and a very special set of circumstances. The DRM does not preclude people making additional Vencii or Paper Airplanes, but given enough money showing up, some fuck will make it a problem. Follow?

Let’s bring this back to stuff you’re probably more comfortable with.

Everyone’s done Music, Movies and Books to death. Let’s go with Broadway Shows.

Broadway shows come in two forms currently, three if you’re feeling generous: Broadway, Touring Production and Las Vegas. In all three cases, to experience it properly, you need to go to a location, either a few blocks near Times Square in New York City, to a local large theater during a two or three week period, or to Las Vegas. The limitations here are specific: geography and time. You need to be in a place at the right time. In that place, a lot of money is spent to give you a full cast, a full crew, and they will put on a show for you.

Analogues exist outside of these venues – you can buy the soundtrack of the performance, but obviously you don’t tend to get the complete show, with songs and pieces cut out, and you definitely don’t get either the visuals or the visceral experience of being at a live performance. For some people, this is sufficient regardless. For others it is not.

It is also possible to see Broadway productions in other venues. These are usually not put on until a significant length or end of a current Broadway production. The productions pay a fee, either a royalty or flat, to put on the production. People who go to these are generally not going to get a Broadway Production either. But they’ll get an analogue. And they’re happy with that.

So here the DRM, the management of the material, is being contained along several vectors, and are dependent on technology not increasing on cell phones or other recording devices to bring more of the experience into a duplicate-friendly format. Once it does, well, then we’re going to have a problem. Or, I should say, Broadway Shows will have a problem and they will start making it a problem for others as well.

As I referenced, other media, specifically pre-recorded, easy-to-duplicate media, already are swimming in this soup. This is partially their own fault, because they started banking heavily on these easily-duplicated units (CDs, records, tapes, videotapes, DVDs, books) without spending too much time building up other potential sources of revenue as much as they might have, as insurance. Broadway shows are going to experience this down the line, and are starting to: take, for example, Phantom of the Opera, which has transcended traditional Broadway Experience and is now a full-on franchise, with massive variations of media and locations to protect or at least defend. It’s how things will likely go, since the money is just too good.

Take a deep breath.

(By the way, if you’ve ever had dinner with me, this is exactly how I talk about things. Just ask around.)

The BBS Documentary, as a product, is easily duplicated. It’s either three ISOs (about 18gb) or, if you are happy with just the MPEGs themselves, less than 3gb of files. That’s not a lot anymore; less than it was when it came out and less every day. Downloading a game demo is sometimes one or two gigabytes now. The actual unit of sale is either an ISO or a .MPG (or .AVI or so on). Each copy is not hand crafted, each creation is not wistfully maneuvered into place by me wearing a jewelers’ monocle readying it for a diamond-encrusted setting. It’s a box with plastic in it, or it’s a couple files. It takes me a little time to pack up the items in a box, but that’s it for per-unit work. To act otherwise is to be really naive.

My DRM, then, is pretty miniscule. You need to either get a piece of plastic from me, or you need to go to a couple hundred easy locations on the Internet and download what version of my work you want. One way pays me and one doesn’t. Either way you see my movie and that is awesome. If I act like someone who sees it the other 99 ways is stealing from me, I end up with cancer of the rage, and that shit doesn’t go away.

I never want the access I granted to people, and how I distributed it, and how the product is available, to go away. That’s a precursor to any sales. I will not grant any place an exclusive right to sale. I suspect this will cut me out of a number of locations, just on the terms of their K-Razy Terms Of Service. I haven’t checked. I will.

If the place does not have that limit, and I sell them distribution rights (or, if you prefer to think of it, I license the right to distribute to the place), then they are going to do what they do. They are probably going to slap DRM on it, and they’re going to make all sorts of nutty garbage on it, and they’re going to do this as part of how they work. To this end, my own personal beliefs will kick in and I will therefore say the following falls under “pisses me off”:

  • Combining it with advertising. I’m still of the school that being paired with an advertiser endorses that advertiser’s product. Therefore if my movie begins with an ad for Salsa-Flavored Rape Chips, you would be entitled to think that I probably have a few bags of Salsa-Flavored Rape Chips and/or think the smoky taste combo of Pepper Jack Cheese and Rape is a worthwhile product.
  • Breaking it up with other crap. This falls under splitting up the works into even more parts, or making you see part of it and then pay for more, or making you pay for an improved version instead of crappy initial version.
  • Making me get less than 40 percent of the cover price. I hate that. For one main reason: people think I’m making more than I really am. Amazon takes 55 percent of my cover charge for my DVDs, and I consider that pushing it. Less than that and people are paying and I’m getting a few bucks.
  • Weird demands that will turn off my technical audience, like limiting to a platform unnecessarily or insisting on software installations. Exception: iTunes.

Other than that, fine.

So, iTunes. Here’s the thing about iTunes: It is a resource-hogging, closed-down locked piece of shit. But people love it! They love having a little machine that can play these little locked down files they pay for. The machine will play open-formatted files and you don’t have to buy anything to make it work, so it is very hard for me to say no to it. So I am all for iTunes, as long as they don’t demand exclusive selling rights, and as long as what people get is an episode of my movie without unwanted “extras”. That’s how it fits in my moral structure and feelings on DRM.

Steam is similar – you pay for stuff and then it comes to you in locked down form. People, again, seem to be fine with this. If Steam allows you to download the movie and watch it, and doesn’t break it up with ads or other modifications, fine. Good.

Netflix streaming. Xbox Live. All good. Any and all. Keep to those rules and we’ll be fine. Gondolas for all.

But I agree that there’s a great chance a lot of this is going to run up against someone in there, someone who sees free gondolas and broadway shows going out the door and will want to lock them down. At that point I will walk away and let you know I did.

And that is what I think.

Honestly, I usually pay for dinner for listening to these rants.


Bring on the Pain #1: Vuze —

It was suggested in the comments of my digital distribution announcement that I consider something called Vuze. Here’s the Vuze website, wherein you will need to download the Vuze client.

I decided to go in cold and try it out.

While playing with this, I suddenly noticed a couple things about this site: they used a massive java client and they had this blue frog as a logo. Now where the hell had I seen that before? Oh yes. Azureus, the Bittorrent Client That Eats Your Machine Like a Starving Fat Man Finding a Ham. It’d been a while since I’d let Moby Azureus onto my box, but I take suggestions and so I went ahead with downloading it and installing it, a pretty painless process..

The client is slicker than I remember. If I was someone using Vuze for anything other than downloading the usual fun stuff, I’d probably think I was merely on a really nice little client, that it’s one candy colored piece of plastic. In fact, this is a slick interface over a standard bittorrent client. (I tend to use utorrent for such things, which I always thought of as “Azureus without the machine resource hogging”). I tried downloading/viewing some of the HD stuff. Apparently they’ve jiggered their bittorrent protocol so it favors the beginnings of files, so you can start streaming them immediately. That takes me back to the good old days of Kazaa, when it first came out and you could click on some music and the music started playing instantly. AWESOME. So far, so good, I guess.

Of course, when you do this e-z content accessing, your machine becomes a big two-way server providing your data and bandwidth to everyone who wants anything you have. Ostensibly, this includes what you paid for, or something. I found downloading the main stuff painless. I didn’t like having ads involved in it, so by downloading it through Azureus, not playing it through their stupid client, and then playing it in, say, OpenVLC, I didn’t need to see extra ads to see, say, another ad, like the Watchmen Trailer. OK, good enough, the thing rewards giving a crap. Extra points for that.

So I went to go see what they had for stuff I could buy, and how that worked.

Most of the channels with “content” are either sucked-up-from-the-web stuff (animations, shorts, memetastic boofery) or they’re movie trailers. The “Sony Channel”, the “Universal Channel”… you can’t download movies, just the trailers for them. Whoop de do. I wanted to pay for and download something, and see what that did.

Somewhere here I started noticing what I noticed about Azureus: it is just a galactic fucking pig. It eats bandwidth so badly my web browsers stop functioning. Stuff I was doing stops dead, or becomes heavily unresponsive, like my FiOS connection has been replaced with a broken modem. I hated that about Azureus. I hate that about Fuze. Ostensibly someone having to download my movies after paying for them would have this problem too. Strike one. At least you can clearly see the stupid blue frog in the task bar and kill it. Assuming you know that’s what’s doing this to your connection.

Ah, some of the Showtime content appears to be actual episodes! They even have those helpful and friendly message at the bottom: “The license for this video is limited to 30 days from purchase or 2 days from the time you start viewing it, whichever is sooner. This video may be viewed on 1 computer.”

Well, time to download this magical file which can protect itself like that… oh look! Vuze is demanding I load Internet Explorer so it can do a “compatibility check”. Fail. Fail, fail. Obviously it’s using some Windows Media Player bullshit to control the item. Fuck that right in the ear.

OK, step back. Let’s say I just want to sell my movie free of DRM for a couple bucks. Can I do that? Is anyone doing that?

Well, Vuze definitely has a FAQ question about selling stuff. They take 50% and you have to sell it over $2, and a bunch of other limitations. Nothing seemed too crazy on a skim. If this was a legitimate, popular service, I could almost see it.

But you know, I couldn’t really find anyone SELLING anything. Some had limited releases (i.e. Windows Media with K-Razy Limits built in) but I couldn’t find anything where it wanted some fucking money from me. Not good.

I even turned on the porn option (allow mature content, which didn’t require I provide proof or sign-off of age or anything), to see if somebody, anybody wanted to grab a few coins out of me so I could see some tit. Nothing. Just the limitations, and that’s it.

I found some games that, when you downloaded them, demanded money. Great. So why the hell would I be using Vuze at all? It was a 4.54mb file to download Gears of War, which then reached out and snuggled the servers it needed to sell me the game. Come on.

OK, so the chances of this service attracting me are a tad slim.

Next, it’s good to see what people think of Vuze, before I consider throwing my lot in with them. Well, it appears they’ve had not one, or two, but three rounds of layoffs this year, including dismissing their PR/Marketing staff and apparently having a lot of their commercial partners yank out of the thing. The implication of this article is that they’re moving away from for-sale items and going towards free-stuff-with-ads. Not interested. Not interested at all.

The search continues. Keep the suggestions coming.


The End of the Good Times (Part 2) —

In the middle of an auction, when the numbers are flying that fast, there’s lots of potential to end up bidding a lot more than you were prepared to, or even worse, not bidding at all because your brain isn’t built to make decisions this fast. Someone used to it, who thinks in this fashion and knows what they want and what their limits are, will be in much much better shape than you are if you’re dreaming of a vintage machine and want to pay $500 and $500 is the FIRST BID. What do you do then? Too late, auction’s over, next lot. I watched that happen a lot.

I also watched the old-timers move in. These people, as I said previously, knew what they wanted and got right in when the fight began. And fights some of them were. When the bidding starts at $500 and jams up past $10,000 on an item, there’s a reason for it. I watched the half-dozen or so big names battle amongst themselves for specific items. If others were lucky, they left crumbs for others to grab.

One of them fell to me. A number of friends showed up, looked around, and had me proxy bid for them with agreed upon prices. When the bidding came up for one my friend Charlie wanted, he had told me $300. But with the whip of the auction, I found that I’d won… at $500. A quick call into Charlie told me he was delighted, regardless – the machine I’d bought for him ranged used for between $3500-$5000 if you were lucky. So Charlie was happy, even if we’d gone a little over.

There was little I was interested in from most of the event – I bid on some Skee Ball machines, but in every case the price shot out of what I’d want to pay. I felt especially bad for two young guys, who bid up to $700 (a crazy price) and then were given a choice of any five similar lots. And they chose the worst one, the machine with the most damage. Even a cursory check of the machines would have said that a specific machine/lot was the “good” one, with the others not so good. Having won, they found a way to lose. I decided not to bring it up with them.

Speaking of the lots. In no time, the auctioneer started grouping up and splitting up lots. In one case, it made sense: if you won a lot, you could then buy the next number of similar lots at the same price. This was to give incentive to bid – you needed to get in there and win, or else you would never get a chance to buy any. Sometimes this tactic worked; other times the person would choose two lots, then there’d be five more, the bidding would continue, and the price would be less than half. Still, it probably worked out for the auctioneers, who get a 13% fee on top of any sold lots (in case you’re wondering).

In one case, there was a particularly stupid move – they had a lot of all the go-karts, and a lot of the power packs for the go-karts. One guy got the karts, another got the packs. I was told the bidding on the packs was purely to get back at the guy who got the karts. Bad blood sometimes flows at these things.

Splitting up the lots was a little weirder. Let’s say a lot was 100 chairs. First of all, what the hell, 100 chairs! Who’s going to buy 100 chairs? Almost nobody, it turned out, so they would split a lot of 100 chairs into lots of 10 or 20 chairs. Then they’d sell them off. Excellent, they sold items that otherwise might not be sold.

But wait! This turned out to totally screw up the back office. When the sheets came into the back office (which held our photo IDs as collateral to bidding) and people showed up to buy their lots, the software would completely, utterly choke on the idea of “this person is buying 9 percent of this lot”. The process of integrating these bizarre setups got longer and longer. And by longer, let me make it clear: I left this establishment at 2am. Let’s count that again – I got there at 9am and left at 2am, a total of eighteen hours. An auction house claiming to be the only licensed auctioneer of this material should really have done their job better. We were crushed in that line, waiting for hours while they got their act together.

Now, a little moral discussion.

I like winning. Man, do I like winning. But I like winning, if not fairly, at least by giving everyone equal opportunity to cheat.

After a a few hours of the vending machines, video games and amusement park rides, we moved to audio equipment. The Good Time Emporium, you see, had a full-on nightclub associated with it, and all the audio equipment was being auctioned off too. (A full restaurant and bar setup, as well.) The audio guys, people waiting to bid on this auction, had mostly ignored the bidding on the vending/video games stuff, and were coming in cold. I’d sat in on both. I had an advantage. As it turned out, I and others had a massive advantage.

The guy doing the audio auctions was nowhere near as good as the guy doing the video game auctions. The videogame guy would tell you stories about the games, stories that might not be true but at least would tell people the nature of what was being auctioned. He would mention it was a special kind of crane game, or a vintage video game, or a type of motion ride that normally retails for whatever. You had context and then you moved in. Audio guy did nothing of the sort – he would say “Next up, speakers” and start the bids. And he started combining lots almost immediately.

This was completely over the heads of the audio guys moving in (and these were really audio guys, ratty jeans, greying beards and headbands a-plenty). They would want lot number 405, and hear the bidding on 399, and not realize the auction guy was NOW TAKING BIDS ON LOTS 399-406. Never mind that lot 399 was a pair of golf clubs and lot 405 was a 32-track mixer. Let’s start the bids.

I saw a couple 1000W speakers being sold, “Bass bins”. I had a hunch. I bid. I won. $150. I did this by bidding on six lots of material and then choosing the lot I wanted. When I didn’t want the lots other than the bass bins, the auctioneer started doing them separately. When the audio guys perked up at the number before the bass bins, he then skipped to the one after, catching them flat footed. The bass bins were gone, fellas.

I felt really bad. Not bad enough to not turn around and call a friend and sell them for nearly three times what I’d paid, of course. But pretty bad.

What made it all worse was the sound guy was there, the sound guy who’d worked at Good Time and had assembled a lot of this equipment. He watched the auction happen, pathetic bids from mislabeled and poorly described lots. My guesstimate is a quarter-million dollars of equipment went out the door for a fifth of that. That’s horrible. A lot of good stuff went out for pennies on the dollar that day.

By the way, the bass bins were HUGE:

The audio guy told me they’d recently been given new insides and were worth probably $2k. So yeah, I got a bargain, even if it was the wrong way.

I bought a couple dozen microphone stands for $50. I bought a pile of trophies. (Why not?) for $25. And other than that, not a whole lot for me.

I met some wonderful people from various bits of the Industry, and had some nice chats with people who are down on the ground working in the Fun Center business. Maybe I’ll meet them again on my travels. I also spent some time with folks from the Classic Arcade Museum, who I would define as “my kind of folks”. Good, good people. I’m sure our paths will cross again, in an arena much less depressing. I got home very, very late.

My pal Charlie came on Sunday with a Uhaul to pick up our related purchases. The previous night’s energy was gone, and all I wanted was to get there and get out.






There’s the beast, the game that Charlie had me buy for him: Initial D: Arcade Stage, a monstrous two-cabinet driving game by Sega from 2002 with network link up and card readers. Charlie is looking forward to restoring it, and I look forward to playing it.

Goodbye, Good Times.

Like all commercially oriented forum sites, Yelp will no doubt take things down over time but for the moment there’s an excellent weigh in by various folks about Good Time, the state of arcades in Boston and what they think this bodes for the general sense of fun in the area.


The End of the Good Times (Part 1) —

If you lived in the Boston area in the last 10 or 15 years, you likely knew about a place called the Good Time Emporium. You probably called it “Good Times” instead, or “Good Time” if you had been there recently and the name stuck. A lot of people came but didn’t go by again for a while. It was that kind of place – located in a particularly blown out industrialized shopping area of Somerville, near a mall that epitomized the concept of the “dead mall”, this combination bar and nightclub and arcade and pool hall and laser tag arena and whatever-else-could-be-fit-in was what the modern era calls a “Fun Center”.

Good Times was definitely the biggest arcade of its type left in the area; I can’t think of any that are left. People sometimes inform me of arcades they think are around, and I have to tell them when these places closed, and ask them when they last set foot there. Usually they quote a decade or more at me. So Good Time it was, and Good Time it had to be.

The area it lived in was in every way a dump – endless flat and cracking asphalt parking lot, too big for the empty mall it supported (although I’m sure a generation of Somerville teenagers learned to drive there), a run of empty storefronts, and all the charm of a back alley. Strangely, though, it is ideally situated for commercial property: right off the highway, linked to several large towns within a mile or less, and even somewhat near public transportation. I can’t speculate why the mall died, but the other businesses in there did OK, after a fashion. It just all had the pall of decay and despair about it.

For many years, the furniture chain Ikea wanted to buy this property. Many years, likely something in the realm of a decade. The community would have none of it and even as they sweetened the deal with offers to build a park, offer first pick of jobs to locals and so on, the permission wouldn’t come. Ikea ended up building a store 30 miles south of Boston in a town called Canton that welcomed them with open arms, but Ikea obviously still jonesed for this space in Somerville, because in 2008 they successfully got permission to go there. The spot they got included the building with Good Time.

Good Time was told they’d get a few months to get out, but in the middle of the summer the word came down: get out by the end of the Month. They announced they were ending their run and current location, and wished everyone well. Here’s the goodbye message:

” It is with regret that we must issue this notice regarding the closure of Good Time Emporium. Our building will soon be replaced with a furniture store. Although we had anticipated remaining in business for several more months, our landlord, Federal Realty Investment Trust, has just informed us that we need to vacate the building by June 30, 2008.

Management and staff of Good Time Emporium would like to take this opportunity to express our gratitude for your patronage over the past seventeen years. It has been our pleasure to serve the people of Somerville and surrounding communities. And, we are proud to have been able to support numerous groups who have benefited from our presence in the city.

To the many customers who hold unused redemption tickets and tokens, we urge you to visit our facility to redeem them as soon as possible.

I made it a point to visit the place a couple days before closure. If you didn’t know they were closing, there was no indication of it anywhere. The vast space, full of bars and pool tables and videogames and whatever else were as loud and weird and brash as anything else. I played a bunch of games and did what I always do with this sort of place: wander around soaking it in.

A few other people visited Good Time at the same general time I did and put video they shot up on Youtube. I am not linking to them because the shots are universally awful.

I kept an eye on the place in the news; the story came down that they were moving down to Brockton, a horrible little town south of the aforementioned Ikea in Canton. The plan, it was indicated, was to get a loan and put together a truly state of the art entertainment place, where everything would be top notch. Brockton citizens were against it, but this would mostly be because of two main reasons: they’re stupid, and gang violence.

Good Time Emporium had its share of rumbles in the parking lot, and the occasional fatal stabbing and shooting, but for all the crazy times associated with the place (and which locals are quick to cite), the ratio of people-moving-through to problems and crime was actually rather good.

Good Time faded away from my knowledge, and I awaited a new location. It turned out I would visit the new location, but not in the way I’d hoped.

Due to various factors, the banks offering loans to Good Time rescinded and decided not to offer any loans. Good Times was forced to go on the chopping block.

The auction was held on November 8, 2008, and I must credit my friend and cohort Rob O’Hara for mentioning to me that an auction was happening. The liquidation was held by SuperAuctions, an auction house dedicated to selling of entertainment centers, and give them credit, they sure know how to whip up a flyer:



(Here’s the flyer in 5 meg PDF glory, if this sort of thing interests you.) To glance at this flyer, you get a sense of a wonderland of toys and mystery cascading upon your head, as you grab for amazing things a la Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. You can be forgiven for assuming this is the case, if you’ve never been to an auction before.

With almost no exceptions, an auction is someone’s failure. Failure to sell things properly, failure to account for emergencies, failure to arrange safety when safety is needed. Therefore, you can understand if one might arrive at a warehouse full of machines and items related to ‘fun” and feel you’re burrowing inside someone’s dying skull. I know I did.

In case you’re now curious what a room full of broken dreams looks like, let me skip out of sequence and show you some photos I took:










On Friday, I walked through the place and it basically looked like this (with the machines on, so you could test them) and with nothing wrapped in plastic (the plastic wrap is for shipping, so you don’t scuff the side art). There were a handful of folks walking through, a couple people playing the games, and others studying the various lots of material to decide what they wanted to bid on on Saturday.

In Auctions, everything gets separated into lots. In an ideal world, each lot is a unit that one would want to bid on. The world is not ideal, however, and some lots are a bunch of stuff containing only one thing you want, or a lot might be half of what you need, with another lot being the other half. Therefore, you set yourself up for some interesting situations when auction day comes.

Generally, a lot was a single vending machine, or a single arcade game, with games that could network all put together as separate but sequentially numbered lots – so you might have 5 lots, all of them a single skee-ball machine. Other times, things got a little messier. In the case of the workbenches used to repair the video games, the auction firm basically wrapped each bench in plastic wrap and made it a lot. This means that all the tools, strippings, screws, containers, boxes, unopened gum and loose wires on a single table became a “lot”. You can imagine how variant the lots’ values could be, and why it paid to go to preview and look at things closely.

I could separate things into Stuff I Must Have, Stuff I Would Like To Have, Stuff I Don’t Want, and Stuff I want to Have Simply Because It Would Be So Goddamn Ludicrous. If you’re wondering what that last group consists of, I’m thinking of the entire go-kart track they had for sale, or the honest-to-goodness spinning carnival ride. Or the bowling alley! All of these, if I had won an auction for them, would have caused great carnage to my life. A video game or two, I could absorb – a functioning 50’x50′ shooting gallery, not so much.

In fact, there turned out to be nothing in the “Stuff I Must Have” area; there really was nothing I really needed that required me to go through this process to acquire them. I might like to have a new chair or two, but at auction? How about I just stop at the Ikea on the way home if it was that critical. Same for deep fat fryers, soda fountains, tool sets, cash registers and video projectors. Nice to have, but did I want a high-traffic entertainment center’s hand-me-downs?

I wrote down some stuff, however, just because it might be neat, and went home, ready to be there early for the auction on Saturday.

I got there basically on time, and the auction was late – it was supposed to start around 10am, and started around 11.

It had a pretty good turnout, with a least 100 people milling about, probably more. Other excellent descriptions of the day abound. Here is mine.

The SuperAuctions people do vending/entertainment auctions. They obviously don’t do other auctions all that much. For what they know how to do, they do well… at least on the front end.

Up on a ladder, the auctioneer welcomes you to this event. He yells about how awesome this is. People are up early on a Saturday. They are tired. He starts offering deals to people. First, they start throwing out shirts. People raise their hands, they’re now interacting. The auctioneer then goes “who wants a hundred dollars?”. People yell. What they offer is to anyone who is registered for the auction, an automatic $100 discount on a bid. People scream. Someone gets it. He tells them there’ll be more. The audience is now milling about, talking. Multiple auction staff are around – a couple guys on ladders, some walking the floor hurriedly. One old coot filled me with fear as the day went on – easily in his sixties, he would jump up on tables, point at people, pace around like a caged tiger, get in the face of someone who had bid and was now not bidding back as the numbers came back at them. I was sure this guy was going to die. It made the dreary parts of the auction less dreary.

Of course, dreary was not the order of the first couple hours of the auction – this was when the prestige stuff was going out the door. HDTV video games. sit downs. Massive “Deal or No Deal” conglomerates with a massive screen and six stations to play on. Shiny driving games, a year or two old. This was when money was to be made. The audience, delighted to be there, was full of families, college students, and then a core of old timers.

You didn’t notice them at first; I sure didn’t. But the old-timers, looking like the type of folks who might show to a cookout or who might be waiting in line to get some food at the local amusement park instead of riding the rides, were the secret army. One big hint to the newbies should have been when the auctioneers referred to them by name.

These guys were prepared. Some had rented tractor trailers. Some had flown from places like Kansas, Texas, Tennessee to come to this auction. Many had a bankroll of tens of thousands of dollars. They were ready for action, an action that cost some of the tourists their goals.

An auction is a fast-moving calling out of numbers and prices – the language is intended to lull you into bidding, into throwing down your stake as fast as you can, to get ahead of the other guys, and then feel you’re being left behind and have to race ahead. The numbers they call out are maximums, numbers not yet bid but which you might go for. Here’s how it might go:

I got a video game here, ladies and gentlemen, made 2006, this is a guaranteed moneymaker in your location, you put this right it’s an automatic thousand a week or so I heard. This place cares about its equipment, you can be sure it works now who wants to bid I say ten thousand ten thousand we got ten thousand now its five we got five and five and now we’re at a thousand I SEE A THOUSAND WE’RE AT A THOUSAND NOW FIFTEEN HUNDRED FIFTEEN HUNDRED WE’RE AT FIFTEEN NOW TWELVE FIFTY? I SEE A TWELVE FIFTY TWELVE FIFTY NOW THIRTEEN NOW FOURTEEN NOW FOURTEEN YES FIFTEEN ARE YOU GOING FOR SIXTEEN SIXTEEN SIXTEEN WE GOT ONE LAST CHANCE HERE SIXTEEN SIXTEEN FIFTEEN IT IS SOLD FIFTEEN HUNDRED

That may all happen in the space of a minute. Better keep up, skippy.

Continued in the next entry.


Bring on the Pain —

With three years of BBS Documentary release behind me, I now know the following things:

  • It’s a pretty enjoyable little flick.
  • While not a general audience sort of film, tens of thousands have seen it.
  • I own all the rights.
  • I got a shrinking stack of original copies here.

So, I’ve decided I’m going to pursue additional avenues of distribution. Here, then, are they:

  • Netflix
  • iTunes
  • Steam
  • Greenhouse
  • PBS
  • The Documentary Channel

(If someone suggests another place, I’ll add it.)

This is primarily an experiment. In all cases, we’re talking digital distribution of various amounts. What will come of it? What will happen? Stay tuned.

Bear in mind that I will be utterly transparent on this weblog about how my adventure goes, because I think there’s something to be learned here, and it informs the other filmmakers I deal with about how to treat such an experience.

Bear in mind I couldn’t begin to consider any of these if I didn’t own the rights 100%. I didn’t sign away anything, I didn’t sell it to someone, and I didn’t get involved in some flim-flammery in the desperate hope my “stuff” would get out there “somewhere”.

So, there you go. I’ll keep you updated.


TinyTIM Returns —

TinyTIM, the MUSH I co-founded over 18 years ago, has returned.

In July, the machine that runs in my basement died. Died in one of those spectacular ways, that can be summarized as “I was running for 10 years and then I suddenly wasn’t.” It was accompanied by the most delicious of sounds, that of a SCSI hard drive blowing a basket and screaming until what time the machine was shut off. Luckily, the data on it was backed up so redundantly, nothing was really lost.

Unfortunately, I’m different than the free-time-soaked sprite of my youth and it was months before I could procure a new machine, get the system installed on it, bring over the software and have my wonderful co-hort Rich port the TinyTIM code to this decade-later operating system. (It was running on SuSE 2.0 previously, if you have an eye for such terms.) Once we began the active part of the project, it wasn’t too hard to get things going. And after a few days of testing, the site is back.

This includes the website, so feel free to go to www.tim.org and browse the current incarnation of the website if you have no idea of this aspect/part of my life, which I promise you ate my 20s as effectively and completely as an old-school intravenous drug addiction. Do I regret this? Very little.

Somewhere in my future is a good run-down of the history of this project, but until then, we can instead focus on the fact that it has returned from the dead. foof.


The Art of Presentation: Bass O Matic and the Crystal Skull —

An interesting opportunity came by – the chance to see a presentation style given by a person in both parody and “serious” modes, 30 years apart. I figured I’d share my thoughts on it.

The presenter is actor Dan Aykroyd, who had worldwide fame on the TV show Saturday Night Live, a live comedy and somewhat variety show that has persisted to the present day. There for the show’s beginning, he was one of the young comedians presenting sketches of all stripes, from social commentary to parody, on issues or pop culture of the day. The weekly format and live presentation gave everything a sense of immediacy and relevancy that few could match (and few can even today).

In a 1976 show, he did a short sketch called “BASS-O-MATIC 76”, a parody of Ronco commercials (he even calls it “Rob-Co” in the skit itself). There’s a number of ways to view this original online, and it’s worth not using a fuzzy memory or second-hand information to know what I’m talking about here. Here’s a couple:

http://www.jibjab.com/view/172241
AOL Video

This embedded version will only work in a limited fashion. Sorry about that:

In the excellent book about the history of SNL that I consider the gold standard of pop cultural history, authors Hill and Weingrad talk about this skit briefly, mostly to mention Aykroyd’s style of writing – nobody was jealous of his skit ideas because everyone knew there was no way they’d have come up with them.

It’s important to realize this presentation is live, rehearsed earlier (likely a number of times) and contains almost no blocking (actor placement) – it’s just Aykroyd and his blender, a closeup of the blender, and a cutaway to Lorraine Newman, who is standing right next to him (you can see her shadow for a moment around the ninteenth second of the skit). His presentation, however, is perfect – clipped, quick speech guiding you through a scattershot list of advantages to the product you would never have thought about when considering blending a bass. The live aspect means the blender gives him some trouble at the end, and he experiences some issues around getting it started in the first place, but the audience reaction is real – an open-mouthed horror. His patter stops in a few places, but is generally an excellent stream-of-consciousness of the advantages of a fish blender.

Aykroyd is 25 years old in this clip. Note how he uses his breathing to keep the patter coming, with sharp intakes of breath. He stares straight ahead, smiling and winking at the camera. His face switches to seriousness as he begins to speak about the subject in earnest. Like I said, he has gaps in there – multiple times, he has to do two things at once and he breaks the patter. But when he picks it up again, he doesn’t stumble. He’s full of energy and full of life.

As people probably know, he has had a varied film and television career in the intervening years, been a concert promoter (via the House of Blues franchise) and has gained a reputation for his interest in Parapsychology, which has leaked into his film work, including films like Spies Like Us and Ghostbusters (and even Nothing But Trouble, a hated film he directed that nonetheless is amazingly deep in terms of discussion of law and jurisdiction).

So, he recently started pitching a new product, one he has a financial stake in: vodka shipped in crystal skulls. To promote this, he has made some commercials. Now watch this:

Now, several things.

Aykroyd is now about 55 or 56 years old in this commercial. There are obviously numerous takes, done at various times in the day, with a choice to use the “best one” in any given phrase set. Additionally, cutaways to stills can remove any mistakes or odd phrasings by Aykroyd as he goes. But regardless, the script seems to be his own and the pitch approach appears to be his own. So let’s go with that.

His clothing, previously garish, is now an informal but nice-looking suit, open necked. The location is an empty but well-lit bar, with lots of interesting glass and a sense of propriety, something you might see at the top of a hotel or near the heart of downtown. The camera is on a dolly and moves during portions of his speech. All of this gives a distinct sense of quality.

The script is impeccable, just short of completely whacky but delivered with the straight-shooting language of someone who has something to offer. Boiled down, this is what it says: I have always enjoyed paranormal subjects and so I’ve made a new vodka that comes in an occult object to commemorate that.

The words are broad and soothing. The people who drink vodka versus anything else are a specific group; not the type that drinks beer and not the type that drinks wine, but a specific group. His pitch speaks to that, never wavering from the I, the me. I am into paranormal subjects and here is why. There is a sense of immortality to paranormal subjects, and I appreciate that. These crystal skulls found out in the world are a hint of life beyond and more than life. These drinks I have made, of some of the finest qualities both inside and outside the packaging, are a timeless nod to this greater knowledge.

A cohort in the enterprise speaks, but let’s ignore him for the purpose of this discussion – he knows his stuff but he’s recorded poorly and I am glad that Aykroyd bookends his non-stellar presentation. His is what I would expect from products of this nature. Dull, nervous. Knowledgeable, but not compelling.

Aykroyd has, as I said, 30 years to consider how to present this material. If you laugh at him or ignore him, you probably weren’t the vodka market anyway. If you smile and suddenly think about vodka, then he’s done his job. It’s an interesting thing to see in action.