Consumables
We are consumers.
Do you think of bright-lit grocery stores
or toy bins
or velvet
or stock photos of economic reports
or a carcass
being
devoured....?
Or....
Something else?
I may picture brand-name ad banners
and imposing brick banking buildings
and grocery aisles,....
but I have a feeling like
my hands might be grinding machines
but I only see them as normal hands.
I'm not very good at ignoring my feelings,
or throwing away my thoughts.
Not that I think they're all prize pigs,
but because it is the logical thing
that is something I can do for myself
AND
guarantees
that
*someone*
knows me,
even if it's... just me.
It's literally the least I can do for myself.
DIGRESSION:
There is a little country museum in Pomeroy, Washington
population 1,425
(thanks wikipedia)
that I loved.
It contained the usual suspects
of the country/county
"historical"
museum
of this region.
Logging spikes and chains
handmade snowshoes
block-ice tongs
wheat scythes
wooden sleds with bent chipped-red skids
alongside black and white photos
of the various
"life"s lived nearby.
Farm life.
Work life.
Home life.
City life.
Country life.
Hard life.
The one in Pomeroy, Washington
is housed in the town's central bank
which is older than the state of Washington itself
(which isn't that old
if you've ever visited a country
where the ancient history wasn't hunted, murdered, and burned
to simulate an untouched Eden to personally spoil).
20 foot high ceilings,
parquet floors,
walnut and oak trims
hiding behind dust and cobwebs.
The proprietor
(the local antiquarian,
historical society leader,
librarian,
paper editor,
ie: local kook
according to the desert farm town residents
100 miles from the nearest Wal-Mart)
bought the building with his wife
because they love history.
They bought the building,
live upstairs in the executive offices
and use the main-floor
to collect
and curate
and educate
through their collection
which they open for about 2 hours to the public
most afternoons
6 days a week
"just in case"
anyone stops by.
Officially their main attraction is the
gleaming, hulking, round
8 foot tall,
4 foot thick
16 lock
steel vault
door
from a time when Walla Walla, Washington
was bigger than Seattle
and nearby Pomeroy was an "important stop"
once upon a time.
But in the center of the room
is a tangled stack of probably
400
heavy
government flat-black
bakelite
rotary telephones.
I am appreciating the gleaming black pile
of twisted ringing memories.
The Proprietor
tells me
(aghast)
that
"kids these days"
don't even recognize rotary telephones
as phones."
His dream was to set them up all,
wire them up as an internal network
through the 1930s still-surviving bank switchboard
and let children
call each other
"USING SPARKS!"
That is what he loves about rotary phones.
They aren't push-button processing,
or touch-screen cold sensory nothingness.
Rotary phones are heavy,
and you can feel the mechanics
while you use it.
He is so excited about showing these phones
to the kids.
"These machines?
We were literally unlocking communication
WITH LIGHTNING!
That's cool, right?
And then you can understand
that rotary phones
and phone numbers
work just like the vault door!
Combination locks! Coding!
I think they'll get it!"
He's obviously used to defending
and extolling the virtues
of his government surplussed hoarde
but I can see what he's seeing,
too.
I honestly thought the pile
could easily fit in at the Guggenheim
as a sculpture to the lost future
via the lost past.
But his idea was good, too.
My other favorite part of this museum
was the rattiest, scrungiest
mangiest-looking
taxidermied black squirrel
angrily defendin'
his acorns
(nuts)
from any would-be
thief.
It looked more like the ugliest dog in America
than it did a squirrel.
I laughed at it for a good 5 minutes straight.
I loved it.
I want it.
Anyways....
Why am I talking forever about a tiny private farm museum
in Pomeroy, Washington?
/END DIGRESSION.
START REGRESSION.
Because I am thinking about dying media.
Or at least,
the "old way"
of doing certain things
like
talking
and
sharing.
For the local PRIDE festival
I tabled for my organization.
They aren't usually there,
but I make them go
all sorts of places
they don't usually go.
They're used to people coming to them.
They're used to being a recognized,
respected, as a prestigious
organization
that didn't *need* to introduce itself.
EVERYBODY knew,
because if you had TV
you knew.
They were famous in the region
in the age before cable
and when only a few live channels were available
in most markets.
PBS is known globally
for television things
that promote
curiosity
and
kindness.
But I'm trying to come to terms
with the idea that Gen Z
doesn't know that there is such a thing
as free non-commercial TV.
They all grew up on PBS content
but they "aged out"
about 10 years ago when PBS hit a bump
trying to figure out how to be solvent
under federal cuts to the Corporation for Public Broadcasting,
(after right-wing pressure against PBS investigative journalism)
while actively making the leap to archived streaming
trying to make it 100% free to access
just like broadcast.
Anyways,
they got left behind.
Non-Commercialism
ALSO
got left behind
at some point
in the last 10-15 years.
I have a shirt one of my best friends gave me that says,
There's nothing more PUNK than a public library!
I
fucking
agree.
There is something hardcore
in this pervasively capitalistic society
about being
truly
and completely dedicated
to the process
of teaching people
how to teach themselves.
In fact, that's how Google took over.
A for-profit
privately-owned company
being as generous as a non-profit federally/publicly funded
socialized research/social institution
like the National Institutes of Health
or the National Archives
or the National Parks
or Fire departments
or public libraries.
At least,
for awhile, Google was.
But this isn't about Google.
This is about how profitability
shouldn't drive
everything.
You simply can't leave
of the profit-motive
alone in the house
for any length of time.
That brother?
He needs a keeper.
What does a rural museum
stuffed with dust, passion, character, history and memories....
and a public television station
running on nostalgia, creativity, kind-hearts, and honesty
have in common?
Almost everything*
*Except the awesome horror-squirrel.
I love that squirrel
"Kids these days" certainly think so.
Do you think of bright-lit grocery stores
or toy bins
or velvet
or stock photos of economic reports
or a carcass
being
devoured....?
Or....
Something else?
I may picture brand-name ad banners
and imposing brick banking buildings
and grocery aisles,....
but I have a feeling like
my hands might be grinding machines
but I only see them as normal hands.
I'm not very good at ignoring my feelings,
or throwing away my thoughts.
Not that I think they're all prize pigs,
but because it is the logical thing
that is something I can do for myself
AND
guarantees
that
*someone*
knows me,
even if it's... just me.
It's literally the least I can do for myself.
DIGRESSION:
There is a little country museum in Pomeroy, Washington
population 1,425
(thanks wikipedia)
that I loved.
It contained the usual suspects
of the country/county
"historical"
museum
of this region.
Logging spikes and chains
handmade snowshoes
block-ice tongs
wheat scythes
wooden sleds with bent chipped-red skids
alongside black and white photos
of the various
"life"s lived nearby.
Farm life.
Work life.
Home life.
City life.
Country life.
Hard life.
The one in Pomeroy, Washington
is housed in the town's central bank
which is older than the state of Washington itself
(which isn't that old
if you've ever visited a country
where the ancient history wasn't hunted, murdered, and burned
to simulate an untouched Eden to personally spoil).
20 foot high ceilings,
parquet floors,
walnut and oak trims
hiding behind dust and cobwebs.
The proprietor
(the local antiquarian,
historical society leader,
librarian,
paper editor,
ie: local kook
according to the desert farm town residents
100 miles from the nearest Wal-Mart)
bought the building with his wife
because they love history.
They bought the building,
live upstairs in the executive offices
and use the main-floor
to collect
and curate
and educate
through their collection
which they open for about 2 hours to the public
most afternoons
6 days a week
"just in case"
anyone stops by.
Officially their main attraction is the
gleaming, hulking, round
8 foot tall,
4 foot thick
16 lock
steel vault
door
from a time when Walla Walla, Washington
was bigger than Seattle
and nearby Pomeroy was an "important stop"
once upon a time.
But in the center of the room
is a tangled stack of probably
400
heavy
government flat-black
bakelite
rotary telephones.
I am appreciating the gleaming black pile
of twisted ringing memories.
The Proprietor
tells me
(aghast)
that
"kids these days"
don't even recognize rotary telephones
as phones."
His dream was to set them up all,
wire them up as an internal network
through the 1930s still-surviving bank switchboard
and let children
call each other
"USING SPARKS!"
That is what he loves about rotary phones.
They aren't push-button processing,
or touch-screen cold sensory nothingness.
Rotary phones are heavy,
and you can feel the mechanics
while you use it.
He is so excited about showing these phones
to the kids.
"These machines?
We were literally unlocking communication
WITH LIGHTNING!
Click to viewThat's cool, right?
And then you can understand
that rotary phones
and phone numbers
work just like the vault door!
Combination locks! Coding!
I think they'll get it!"
He's obviously used to defending
and extolling the virtues
of his government surplussed hoarde
but I can see what he's seeing,
too.
I honestly thought the pile
could easily fit in at the Guggenheim
as a sculpture to the lost future
via the lost past.
But his idea was good, too.
My other favorite part of this museum
was the rattiest, scrungiest
mangiest-looking
taxidermied black squirrel
angrily defendin'
his acorns
(nuts)
from any would-be
thief.
It looked more like the ugliest dog in America
than it did a squirrel.
I laughed at it for a good 5 minutes straight.
I loved it.
I want it.
Anyways....
Why am I talking forever about a tiny private farm museum
in Pomeroy, Washington?
/END DIGRESSION.
START REGRESSION.
Because I am thinking about dying media.
Or at least,
the "old way"
of doing certain things
like
talking
and
sharing.
For the local PRIDE festival
I tabled for my organization.
They aren't usually there,
but I make them go
all sorts of places
they don't usually go.
They're used to people coming to them.
They're used to being a recognized,
respected, as a prestigious
organization
that didn't *need* to introduce itself.
EVERYBODY knew,
because if you had TV
you knew.
They were famous in the region
in the age before cable
and when only a few live channels were available
in most markets.
PBS is known globally
for television things
that promote
curiosity
and
kindness.
But I'm trying to come to terms
with the idea that Gen Z
doesn't know that there is such a thing
as free non-commercial TV.
They all grew up on PBS content
but they "aged out"
about 10 years ago when PBS hit a bump
trying to figure out how to be solvent
under federal cuts to the Corporation for Public Broadcasting,
(after right-wing pressure against PBS investigative journalism)
while actively making the leap to archived streaming
trying to make it 100% free to access
just like broadcast.
Anyways,
they got left behind.
Non-Commercialism
ALSO
got left behind
at some point
in the last 10-15 years.
I have a shirt one of my best friends gave me that says,
There's nothing more PUNK than a public library!
I
fucking
agree.
There is something hardcore
in this pervasively capitalistic society
about being
truly
and completely dedicated
to the process
of teaching people
how to teach themselves.
In fact, that's how Google took over.
A for-profit
privately-owned company
being as generous as a non-profit federally/publicly funded
socialized research/social institution
like the National Institutes of Health
or the National Archives
or the National Parks
or Fire departments
or public libraries.
At least,
for awhile, Google was.
But this isn't about Google.
This is about how profitability
shouldn't drive
everything.
You simply can't leave
of the profit-motive
alone in the house
for any length of time.
That brother?
He needs a keeper.
What does a rural museum
stuffed with dust, passion, character, history and memories....
and a public television station
running on nostalgia, creativity, kind-hearts, and honesty
have in common?
Almost everything*
*Except the awesome horror-squirrel.
I love that squirrel
"Kids these days" certainly think so.