This sounds about right for snobby TV fans.
This sounds about right for snobby TV fans.
Last night, I was watching Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip (my new favorite show to watch,) and I thought, “Studio 60 looks a lot like the Palladium Theater down the street from my house.”
This morning on my way to work, I drove by the Palladium, like I do every day. Only this time I looked over at it, and realized it WAS Studio 60 — complete with logos and the big sign. It was all dressed up for filming. I am hoping it’s still all dressed up like that when I go by it tomorrow, cause I’m gonna bring a camera. Yay!

Best BitTorrent client for the Mac. TOMATO TORRENT.
Go get it!
The McDonald’s Arch Card. The Subway Cash Card. The Wal-Mart “Reloadable Shopping Card.” What do these things have in common? They’re all a part of a fast-catching new trend among corporations — walled gardens of money.
It seems an impossible feat for a company. How can they get the consumer to spend their money, before they actually purchase anything? And beyond that, how can they guarantee a certain amount of money will be spent there?
It all started with the death of the gift certificate.
Does everybody remember when gift certificates were actual pieces of paper, with an amount scribbled on them, possibly signed by a manager where they were purchased? I do. I even remember receiving some, in fancy envelopes. They actually felt like gifts. Those days are long over. What killed them? “Gift cards.” Yes, gift cards. Small, thin pieces of plastic, whose anonymous value we’ve all over-estimated. Why the switch? Well, you have to ask yourself, “why does a corporation do anything?” The answer is cost savings. The gift certificate is dead. Long live the gift card.
Once the gift card was an established member of society, the next step was simple. Reload-able gift cards. Once you’ve discovered the convenience of swiping a card to pay for a purchase, why wouldn’t you want that fun to keep on going? When your gift card runs out of money, you can simply add more money to it, and keep using it. Essentially, you can give yourself a gift.
That’s great, Wal-Mart, and JCPenny, and Sears, and whoever else rode this initial wave. I’ve got another reloadable card I carry with me. It’s called a credit card. Or maybe you’ve heard of this one? A debit card. Or an ATM card. All of which provide far more fraud protection. How much fraud protection do you get with a “gift card”? To answer that question, just flip one over, and read the fine print. “TREAT THIS CARD LIKE CASH.” Well, then. Tell me. Why would I actually take money out of my credit card, and put it into my reloadable cash card, where it can promptly be stolen, with no legal recourse?
The answer for the corporation is very easy. For you and me, it’s a little trickier. There’s no reason for us to do it. That’s where the marketing comes in. Wal-Mart was the first to come up with an idea that actually had me stop and think: using the shopping card to budget yourself. At the beginning of the month, you put a few hundred bucks into your cash card. Then, as the month wears on, you use that, not your credit card, to buy your groceries. From Wal-Mart.
I have another system I use to do my budgeting, though. It’s called self control. And it lets me shop at a slightly larger variety of retailers.
There’s always a fringe case, and this issue is no exception. I do see the value of these cards if you have kids. You can put fifty bucks on a McDonald’s card, or, if you want them to live a more robust life, a Subway card. They can go hog wild eating out after school, without having to carry cash around that they could “misappropriate,” or be liberated of. But as far as the majority of Los Angelinos are concerned, I think we can manage to spend our money where we’d like to, without fear of accidentally spending it on something else. We’re not children. We might still get mugged, sure. But remember what happens if someone takes your McDonald’s card? Right. They go eat at McDonald’s with it. “TREAT THIS CARD LIKE CASH.”
While they may seem like a silly idea, reloadable cash cards are becoming more widespread every day, and in some cases, they’re becoming mandatory. I found myself baffled the other day at Lucy’s Laundromat on Sunset, when my roll of quarters and I realized that we had to load a cash card with a few bucks to operate any of the washers. When did that happen?
As much as I can, though, I’m going to be fighting against these souped-up gift cards. The last time I checked, I could get cash safely near a magnet. Gift cards, you’ve got a long way to go.
The cast and crew screening of Whip Cracker is Friday, October 20th. Glorious day! Word is that the movie came out very well, with some last minute crunch to get the sound finished on time.
Thank God, praise Allah, and heap glory upon whatever other gods had a hand in helping the post team meet their deadline on time.
Supposedly, the PR machine has been been started, and the gears are slowly turning. That can only mean one thing: a trailer is on the way.
I went down to the radio station, because I had a lot on my mind, and I figured I could find something to do here. The machine I needed to use here to do some work, broke. About ten minutes into using it, too. Good stuff.
Well, I can’t do any work, and of course, I can’t get any writing done. I feel like I’m definitely having a bad day. On goes the radio, to KROQ, for a little LoveLine action.
Wow.
I may be having a bad day, but these people are having bad everythings. “I got molested as a child, then raped as a teen, and now I get this tremendous pain any time I’m penetrated. Am I a lesbian?”
WHAT?!
So, here I am, at the Los Angeles County Fair, working the 97.1 Free FM tent. I get roped into these events occasionally, when someone else isn’t able to cover their shift. It’s an easy gig — we sit here, we talk to people about the station, we smile and laugh at their jokes, then we give them some freebies.
Today I had, by far, the strangest conversation I’ve had with a listener yet.
He approaches the booth. He’s a portly, balding man, about five foot and a half. He seems cheerful enough in his demeanor — enough so that you’d smile and say hi. I do so. He looks around the booth, and then over the side wall, down into our coveted “prize bin.” He spies a large pile of empty 97.1 Free FM bags.
“What’s in the bags,” he casually ponders. I smile, yet again.
“They’re just bags.” The man squints at me, accusingly. He sneers a little bit.
“Just bags? They’re empty?” Incredulous. That’s weird.
“That’s right, sir. They’re prize bags.” Satisfied with my explanation, I smile again — that’s three smiles so far. He’s definitely in the hole on politeness. I expect a firm handshake when he leaves.
“Why would you have empty bags?” He sneers again, and accuses again. This is becoming a trend. And we’re trending in the opposite direction I’d want us to. I start looking around the booth, nervously.
“To put prizes in, when we give them out. Or to give people that might need to carry stuff. Do you have any stuff to carry?” See, I’m being helpful. Combine that with the unrequited politeness, and this guy is going to actually owe me money.
“No.” He peers further over the wall. I’m not sure what’s he hoping to see back here. Maybe I’ve got the ultra super prize tucked up under the side wall, and the only way to win it is to see it. Maybe it’s a little dude, and you have to guess his name, and then he gives you his backpack. I don’t know. I start to wish I had that little prize troll back here; maybe it would get this guy to leave me alone.
He’s beginning to get impatient at this point. And I’m getting desperate. Obviously, he’s not buying my clever ploy to keep all the prizes. I feel around in random bags next to my chair. Finally, thankfully, I find a pair of sunglasses. I yank them out of the bag, and thrust them towards the sky. “Sunglasses. Free FM sunglasses.” Ugh. Now I have to do it. I don’t want to do it. Dear. God. No. Okay, fine. I smile. The man eyes the glasses suspiciously.
“I don’t want those.” Wait for it. Yes, there it is. He sneers. Fantastic. And just like that, he turns and walks away, leaving me holding the glasses.
Stupid glasses.