Updates, odds and ends

Update – Poetry.com
Over the past couple of weeks, I have received different email from four different organizations, all telling me how wonderful my poetry is, and offering membership and all manner of plaques, pins, medallions, coffee mugs, etc, etc, etc. The last was from an outfit called Noble House with offices in London, Paris and New York. The problem, of course, is that Yahoo tells me the emails all originated from the same source in Maryland. Uh-huh.

Dear Matt,
Recently, I was discussing the appointment of this year's Poet Fellows with various editors, colleagues, and publishers. The Poet Fellowship is an elite group of international writers who share a common passion for writing. In recent years, the number of Poet Fellows has grown with members from all over the world. It started in London and then quickly spread to New York, Paris, and Venice . . . and now its members literally circle the globe. It is with great enthusiasm that I am officially inviting you to join this legendary group as a Poet Fellow.

In addition to the honor and prestige afforded by being a member of this organization, they are offering a Poet Fellow Pin and a limited edition medallion at a cost of only $74.95.

Apparently, this scam is one of the most persistent on the net. The reason they can get away with this stuff is that they maintain a façade of legitimacy by actually publishing books (anthologies) from time to time and even holding annual “conventions” with an attendance of up to 4,000 would be poets. But, the biggest reason they get away with it is that people, once they come to realize they’ve been scammed, are too embarrassed to admit it.

There are literally dozens of sites out there reporting on scams or suspicious activity. You can utilize these sites to gather information on any activity you may be thinking about getting involved in. I’ve found RipOffReports(.Com) particularly helpful.
Related Posts: I won! I won! Oh shit.

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Free software links
In some of my posts, I’ve pointed out the benefits of freeware and free open source software. Freeware is fully functional software that is available without charge and with no strings attached. Open source software is essentially the same thing, except that there is an additional bonus in that you can also download and modify the source code if you wish.

In order to be considered free software, users must have the following four freedoms:

• The freedom to run the program, for any purpose.
• The freedom to study how the program works, and adapt it to your needs. Access to the source code is a precondition for this.
• The freedom to redistribute copies so you can help your neighbor.
• The freedom to improve the program, and release your improvements to the public, so that the whole community benefits. Access to the source code is a precondition for this.

For more information about free software, visit the Free Software Foundation.

I’ve added a new links category, “Five Star Freeware”. I’ll include the links to any freeware apps I review on this site, so that readers can navigate to these websites without difficulty.

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The Music Player
You might have noticed that I’ve changed the MP3 player to something a little more elaborate. The player is provided free (for a little advertising and a link) by MyFlashFetish. I’ll be trying to update the play list over the next couple of weeks.

It’s annoying as hell to have the player start playback from the beginning every time you move from one post to another, but that’s the nature of the beast. One way to avoid this nuisance is to click on the month of the posts, rather that the post itself. By clicking on November, for example, all posts published in November will appear on a single page, allowing you to scroll from post to post and allowing the MP3 player to play continually.

Open source software

In the early days of computers, idealism was very much alive and well on the software development side of the equation. Software developers shared their knowledge, including computer code, with one another freely. By doing so they could tap into the collective knowledge of fellow professionals to solve any problems they might encounter. By allowing others to modify their code, they could develop software that was stable, user friendly and readily available to the end user at little or no charge.

These idealistic individuals actually believed that the benefits of personal computing should be available to everyone, not just the well off and wealthy.

And then came Microsoft.

To give Bill Gates and his buddy Steve their due, Microsoft has done a pretty good job of making computers user friendly and opening up the wonderful world of personal computing to the average man (or woman) on the street. The Windows environment is easy to work in and relatively stable for the average user. But . . .

I’ve been using Windows XP for several years. And, over those years, I’ve had to activate (or re-activate) the system four times. It’s not a lengthy process and some people may consider it a minor inconvenience. To me, however, it’s a major infringement on my privacy rights. And, I also object to the “guilty until proven innocent” attitude of Microsoft’s activation process.

Judges routinely order criminals to wear electronic monitoring devices, after a hearing or trial has confirmed their guilt. Microsoft demands that they be permitted to conduct electronic surveillance of my computer system, without the benefit of a hearing. After paying to use their damned operating system, they want me to prove that I’m innocent of piracy any time they decide it’s convenient for them. It would be unacceptable to most people if they were required to contact Ford or GM to get permission to re-start their automobile after changing the oil or installing new spark plugs. Why is it acceptable behaviour from Microsoft?

And Windows Vista is even more restrictive; you are simply not allowed to move the operating system to new hardware. As well, the Microsoft activation process is being applied to most, if not all, of the Microsoft product line.

Then, there’s the cost.

Fortunately, there are alternatives to Microsoft Windows. Most incarnations of Linux (Red Hat, Ubuntu, etc.) have a GUI (graphical user interface), an application task bar and an office document processing environment, thanks to open source software. And, since it’s free, it can be used on any system, with any hardware, on as many computers as you might choose to install it.

You can get (or make) “live” CDs that allow you to transport the operating system to any computer via a bootable disc. You choose as many applications as you need, all at little or no cost.

Microsoft is not happy with open source software.

While claiming it doesn’t want to litigate the issue, Microsoft is demanding that it be paid royalties on patents they “own”. I understand the concept of copyright, but I’m not exactly sure how anyone can patent software anymore than they can patent mathematics. You can copyright a song, but you can’t patent the idea of a song and then demand royalties from anyone who writes a song. But that’s what Microsoft is claiming; that they’re entitled to patent the idea behind a computer application.

The European Union has turned thumbs down on software patents. And rightly so. The United States has been allowing people to register patents, but some recent court cases suggest that any legal action for patent infringement will meet with limited success.

Microsoft wants nothing less than complete control over the computer operating system market. Their only competition is from Mac and Gnu/Linux.

It’s clear that Microsoft is afraid of the concept of open source software, otherwise they wouldn’t be turning their considerable legal and financial might against those who produce it.

Open source software is still a small market to be sure, but it’s here to stay; and, it’s gaining ground in the end user market; losing it’s “for geeks only” connotation. And, as the many manifestations of Linux become easier to use for the average Joe, it will continue to erode Microsoft’s current advantage in the market place.

And, you simply can’t beat the price. That’s making Microsoft very nervous.

Second hand goods

There are a lot of good guitar builders out there, making good quality instruments. And, over the years, I’ve owned a few. But, my first guitar was an inexpensive “Simpson’s Sears special”, a Silvertone acoustic flat top. Specially priced for the beginner market back in the fifties, it cost less than $30.00. But, to put that price tag in context, my Dad’s weekly paycheck was just over $58.00 net, which made the guitar pretty special. And, I’ve never been without a guitar in all the years since.

These days I play a Washburn D10SDL, and I also own a Norman B-20-12, a 12 string guitar that’s hand made in Canada. OK, it’s made in Quebec, but whether they know it or not, they’re still part of Canada. Both my current guitars were gifts from family members, just like the first one I got from my Dad over half a century ago.

Recently, while surfing the net, I came across an article on Gallotone guitars. Now, if I were to mention names like Gibson, Gretsch, Martin, Ephinone, etc, everyone who has ever learned how to strum a chord would know what I was talking about. But, I’m wondering how many people out there can tell me what a Gallotone guitar looks like or where they were made? That’s what I thought.

The Gallotone Champion guitar model was a 3/4 size steel string flat-top acoustic made from laminated woods. It was manufactured in South Africa by the Gallo company during the 50's and 60's. It was intended for the beginner market and sold for under $20.00 US.

If I were to tell you that John Lennon once played a Gallowtone Champion, would you know where I’m going with this piece? Sure you would, unless you’re a complete stranger to this web log.

A few years back (eight to be exact), the Gallotone guitar once played by John Lennon sold for 155,500 pounds ($251,700) at a Rock'n'Roll memorabilia sale held by Sotheby's London. There is no indication anywhere that the purchaser is a guitar player. If he were, he would have spent a grand or two on a top of the line instrument that he could play on a daily basis without turning his fingers to hamburger; instead of a worthless piece of junk.

But the man was not a musician; he was a collector of memorabilia. He didn’t buy the guitar to play it, he bought it as a trophy so he could display it and proclaim proudly to anyone who might see it that it was once played by John Lennon. “Yessireebob. Worth every penny of the quarter of a million dollars I spent for it.”

No. I do not envy the man’s wealth and I don’t dispute his right to spend his money in any manner he sees fit. And, I sure as hell don’t envy his intelligence or lack thereof.

It was a cheap beginner’s guitar that plays no better today than it did back in the fifties when Lennon bought it. Its magic was never in the guitar; the magic was in the hands, heart and soul of the man who played it. And, no matter how much the buyer might be willing to spend, he can never buy the magic.

And the same holds true for the guitar once played, but never owned by Sir Paul McCartney, which sold at auction last year for $675,000.00. The guitar was accompanied by a letter from Sir Paul authenticating the fact he had once played that guitar as a boy. The owner, a boyhood friend of McCartney’s sold the guitar to “build a nest egg” for his pending retirement. He has obviously been thinking about his nest egg for a long time if he has managed to keep the instrument in any kind of decent shape over that length of time.

The guitar's buyer, the president of an auction company, is quoted as saying: "This is such an important piece of rock history and I am an extremely happy man tonight. Without this guitar, the Beatles may never have existed and it is a fantastic acquisition." An acquisition? I thought he was buying a guitar.

It may be a piece of rock history, but as such it belongs in a museum, not in the hands of a private collector who wants to bath, albeit second hand, in the brilliance of one of the world’s finest guitar players.

It’s hard to figure out these “collectors”. Is it their colossal ego or just plain stupidity that makes them pay that much money for second hand goods.

Record companies & royalties

Found an interesting bit of trivia on the web just a few days ago while researching another article for this web log. On a web site called “How it works”, a brief article in the side bar claims that country super star, Merle Haggard, had never received a recording royalty cheque throughout his long career in country music, until he recently recorded an album for the indie punk-rock label Epitaph.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “The guy is a country music legend. He’s had thirty-seven top ten country singles, with twenty-three of them number one hits. There’s no way any artist can be that successful and never cash a royalty cheque.” But, you’re wrong. To fully understand how such a thing might happen, you’d have to read several lengthy articles on how recording contracts actually work. I’ll try and give the short lecture in this post.

Let’s say you’re an up and coming young country singer who has just signed his/her first recording contract with a major record label. You sign the standard industry contract stating your cut will be 10% of total album sales. The record company gives you an advance of $100,000.00 or so to tide you over until your album is released, and you’re happily drifting along on cloud nine. The dollar signs are dancing in your head, rendering the brain next to useless.

So let’s see if we can’t work this out together. If you sell a million records at $15.00 apiece, that’s 15 million dollars; and your take would be a cool 1.5 million, right? Well, no, not exactly. You royalties will be based on the wholesale price, not the retail price. But that’s fair. If your record wholesales for nine dollars, you still make $900,000.00. Unless your album is sold through a record or CD club, or some discount retail outlet like Costco who usually pay a lower wholesale price. But, it’s still a pretty good deal, right?

Well, maybe. But there are a few expenses to be deducted from your royalties. Many record companies charge an up front “packaging fee” of up to 25% of the artist’s royalties. Then, there’s the cost of recording the songs. These costs alone can easily run up to several hundreds of thousands of dollars. You might do your recording in a studio owned by the record company, but you won’t get the studio time for free. They’ll charge you for it, usually with a considerable mark up.

There’s production costs, costs for graphic design, royalties to the writers, advertising and promotion of the album and don’t forget your advance. Then there’s the free CDs distributed for promotional purposes and to radio stations. And, don’t forget the hold back for CDs and tapes that might be returned later by retailers.

And, few records are released these days without at least one video for television; no one wants to look at a picture of Toby Keith for three and a half minutes while listening to one of his songs on CMT. So add on a few more hundreds of thousands of dollars.

Once it’s all added up, you’ll be down on your knees praying for a gold or platinum album. Otherwise you could end up owing the record company. And consider this, the music industry publishes tens of thousands of new albums every year, and only a small percentage of them are going to go gold (500,000 records sold) or platinum (1,000,000 records sold). You have about a 1-in-20 chance of producing an album that's a major hit.

Singer Courtney Love had this to say in an open letter to recording artists: “How do record companies get away with a 95% failure rate that would be totally unacceptable in any other business? Record companies keep almost all the profits. Recording artists get paid a tiny fraction of the money earned by their music. That allows record executives to be incredibly sloppy in running their companies and still create enormous amounts of cash for the corporations that own them.”

“The royalty rates granted in every recording contract are very low to start with and then companies charge back every conceivable cost to an artist's royalty account. Artists pay for recording costs, video production costs, tour support, radio promotion, sales and marketing costs, packaging costs and any other cost the record company can subtract from their royalties. Record companies also reduce royalties by "forgetting" to report sales figures, miscalculating royalties and by preventing artists from auditing record company books.”

And this item, from her blog: Courtney Love wants to follow the example of rock band Radiohead, who has allowed fans to download their new album "In Rainbows" and pay whatever they wanted. She too will release her music, for free, online.

Go ahead. Ask me why I don’t feel at all guilty about visiting “Torrent Portal” or “Pirate Bay” from time to time.

Water, water, everywhere . . .

Right now, in my refrigerator, there are several bottles of bottled water. And under a desk in my bedroom, there is an unopened case of the same bottled water. It is the last of three cases of water bought by my wife who drinks a lot of bottled water. When my wife and youngest daughter were lugging the stuff into the apartment, I raised my eyebrows in a questioning manner. “It was on sale!” was the chorus.

Also, in the kitchen of my apartment, there is a contraption called a “sink”. In the sink there are taps which you turn to make water run into the sink. The tap marked with a “C” gives you clear, cold; government tested water, certified fit for human consumption. And, it’s free.

Now, cold running water, delivered directly to your house or apartment, has been around for many years. Even back in the fifties, living on Bog Row down in Cape Breton, we had cold running water. Of course, if you ventured out into the countryside to visit Aunt Daisy, things got a little more complicated. There you had to prime the pump, and then pump the pump handle to get the water running before you could get a cool, refreshing drink . . . of free water.

Now, don’t anyone get the wrong impression here. I don’t begrudge a case or two of bottled water to anyone, especially my wife of nigh on to forty years. But . . .

Let’s look at some facts.

Nestlé Waters Canada has applied to extend its permit to pump 3.6 million litres of water a day in Aberfoyle and 1.1 million litres a day in Hillsburg for the next five years. That application drew about 6,000 letters of objection into the office of Ontario’s Ministry of the Environment.

According to Council of Canadians national chairperson Maude Barlow, “local residents need to be aware that a water crisis happening around the world can also happen in Guelph. Droughts are not just happening in Third World countries but in northern China, the Middle East, Australia and parts of the United States. It's a myth (in Canada) that we have so much water that we can afford to take it away, sell it and it'll never run out."

That, in and of itself, should be enough to make proponents of bottled water sit up and take notice. But, there’s another concern being overlooked by the environmentalists which is all too obvious to dumb old country boys like myself. If Nestle is drawing water from the same source as the local tap water, just why in hell are people paying for their stuff.

Now, consider this little news item from Reuters (South Africa). “Manufacturers of bottled water have hit back at accusations that they may be ripping-off consumers by selling tap water. Nestlé South Africa says its Pure Life product is obtained from an internationally approved source (unidentified) that is tested every six months. It has refuted allegations that Nestlé uses tap water and markets it as spring water.”

And, Coke has also worked to block public knowledge of its water source. Just a short time ago, Consumers International gave a Bad Product award to Dasani (water bottled by Coke), stating the honor was due to "pushing marketing into the realms of the ridiculous" by packaging water that came from the same source as tap water.

But, there are others guilty of “pushing marketing into the realms of the ridiculous”.

Claridges in London, one of the best known hotels in the world boasts three restaurants. It is now offering a "water menu" featuring more than 30 worldwide varieties of bottled water; iceberg water from Newfoundland, OGO water from the Netherlands which contains 35 times more oxygen than usual, water from New Zealand's finest volcanic springs, Tasmanian Rain, etc, etc. The cost? Anywhere from seven to thirty dollars a bottle.

And consider this item from Reuters (London), which claims, “Restaurants are pushing customers into buying expensive bottled water instead of offering them tap water for free, the government's consumer watchdog said on Friday. A five-star hotel in London charges 50 pounds (roughly 75 dollars) a litre and even chain restaurants charge 3.80 pounds (five dollars) for bottled mineral water.”

The article goes on to claim that a recent survey found that nine out of every 10 restaurants (in London) were pushing consumers to buy bottled water and failed to offer them free tap water.

Maker of horror films, David Cronenberg, once said, “The secret to a good horror film is to take ordinary events and extend them to their ultimate conclusion.” How about this for a possible horror scenario?

Coke and Pepsi buy the Great Lakes. Manufacturing concerns are forced to pay such high prices for their water that they move out of the country leaving millions unemployed. The public is forced to pay through the nose for Dasani and Aquafina. There is rioting in the streets of Toronto and hordes of thirsty, unemployed easterners are prepared to invade Alberta and BC to wrest control of their water supply.

Yeah, I know. It’ll never happen. By the time we get around to it, the Yanks will have already invaded Alberta and BC and there’ll be no water left.

Screamer - free internet radio

In my last post I wrote about some nut-bar who spent 160 thousand dollars on a 200 year old bottle of vinegar. Nothing particularly wrong with that, except that the man was a oenophile; someone who appreciates or collects wine. So what if it came in a wine bottle with a Chateau Lafite label, it was still nothing more than expensive (very expensive) vinegar. And, you can pick up a bottle of vinegar for under two bucks at “No Frills”. The guy was not a savvy shopper.

I, on the other hand, have an eye for a bargain. My kids interpret that as cheap, but that’s beside the point.

Some of the best deals available out there in cyberspace are in the realm of freeware. Freeware is made available in a variety of disguises, under various distribution licenses. But freeware applications have one thing in common. They’re free. That means no charge and no strings; no banner ads or spyware and no shutting down after 30 days. Now, that’s a bargain!

A few months back I picked up a copy of Screamer, a free internet radio application. The application was developed by a man called David Zidar who lives in Sweden where he studied Computer Science at Mälardalen University. Do not ask me how to pronounce his last name; I have no desire to demonstrate my ignorance in public. Wait a minute, try: eaz-dar. Amazing what you can find on the web these days.

As you can see from the screenshot at the top of the page, there’s no splashy interface. But, it works, and, it works well. Just what does it do? It’s a bloody radio, didn’t I already mention that.

According to the web site, “There is little reason to listen to commercial FM radio anymore, it is an old medium that provides little choice of music and is saturated with ads. For the last couple of years there has been an alternative, streaming internet radio; an alternative that has been somewhat complicated to use. Screamer Radio attempts to remedy this problem by bringing most of the required steps into a single, easy to use, freeware program.”

The application comes with hundreds of “preset” internet radio stations, from every genre of music imaginable: classic rock, jazz and blues, folk and country, reggae, rap and hip hop, etc, etc. You name it; it’s there. One of my favourite stations is from Mayo: Midwest Irish radio

And, you can not only listen to the music, but you can record it using the built in record feature. There are no ads, no spyware and there’s no cost, hidden or otherwise. Nor will it shut down after 30 days.

You can check it all out on the Screamer web site, then, download your free copy.
Go to: Screamer – Free Internet Radio

Bottle of wine, fruit of the vine

"Actually, I find it a rather backward little entry, lacking balance and texture; a little too austere for my taste."

Huh. Run that by me again. Oh, you’re talking about the wine.

I’ve always found the rituals associated with wine tasting to be a little pretentious. It all looks so complex, like the wine itself.

Now, let’s see, what do I remember from Wine Tasting 101? Wines described as backward are undeveloped and not ready to drink; they have to be aged. They’re often young and tannic, and may also be described as austere. The texture of a wine describes how the wine feels in the mouth; is it silky, velvety, rounded, or smooth? Wines said to have balance have a harmonious combination of tannin, acidity, texture and flavour. Balance is a vital attribute of a good wine. Uh-huh.

Admittedly, I know absolutely nothing about wine tasting. I am sometimes a wine drinker, but wine tasting is definitely beyond my capacity. To me there are only two kinds of wine; stuff that’s drinkable and stuff that isn’t.

Nor do I have any desire to learn about wine tasting. Did you know that tasters spit, er . . ., excuse me, expectorate the wine after swirling it around in the mouth and allowing it to brush the palette. I wouldn’t even consider doing that with a cheap bottle of 999 (a port wine most commonly associated with bootleggers in my younger days in Cape Breton). It was an indelicate little wine, both dense and complex. OK, the wine wasn’t all that complex and I was just dense.

I know what you’re thinking. Just why in the hell is he talking about wine?

Because, dear reader, as I was surfing the web, looking for nothing in particular and going nowhere at all, I came across an article on the world’s most expensive wines. And, I have a thing about people who pay outrageous prices for commodities of dubious value, be it Barry Bonds’ baseballs, OJ’s lucky suit or John Kennedy’s rocking chair. The one thing most of these people have in common, besides too much money, is a definite and definitive lack of common sense.

In 1985, Christie’s auction house sold one bottle of wine for $160,000. It was a bottle of Bordeaux, a 1787 Chateau Lafite, and, according to The Guinness Book of World Records it is still the world's most expensive bottle of wine. Its great age alone would have ensured a good price but what really made it special, particularly to American collectors, and ensured the record price tag were the initials Th.J. etched in the glass. Th.J. was, of course, Thomas Jefferson, one time president (and founding father) of the United States.

In addition to his duties as a statesman, Jefferson was also an avid oenophile. That’s right a oenophile, pronounced zee-new-file. Isn’t that a great word? An oenophile is a lover of wine. Oenophiles are also known as wine aficionados or connoisseurs. They are people who appreciate or collect wine. Uh-huh.

While most people will marvel at the price tag of 160 thousand dollars, I find myself marveling at the lack of grey matter which could be attributed to the purchaser. Is he perhaps unaware that he could get just as pissed on a five dollar bottle of Zing? Would he really pay that kind of money to roll the stuff around in his mouth and spit it out?

Actually, neither question is of any import, because the wine in no longer drinkable. The outside limit for a Bordeaux to remain fit for drinking is 50 years. So what the buyer really paid all that money for was to let the bottle, with its fancy label, sit on a shelf and gather dust. He got diddly-squat for his money, except bragging rights to a very expensive bottle of vinegar.

Unless, of course, another dummy should come along and offer to buy it.

I won! I won! (The last word)

I really didn’t intend to have a Part 3 to this post, but I just got another Email from my friends at Poetry.com and the International Society of Poets. I guess they didn’t get my Email explaining that I don’t really intend to let them publish my poem.

Actually, I got two Emails, one apologizing for being unable to process my application for membership in the International Society of Poets because their server was down. Maybe I should tell them that I never returned their application, so it didn’t matter a rats ass if their server was down or not.

The other was a “suggestion” that I invite family and friends to visit Poetry.com and review my poem. They obviously didn’t think a poet of my artistic vision was capable of composing my own Email, so they took the liberty of writing one for me. Just fill in the Email addresses of the family and friends I want to send it to and click the little button. The Email appears below.

Dear Family and Friends,
I am in the middle of a great online poetry competition. I have the chance to win some great prizes, including an iPod. I really want to win, and all I need are votes from my family and friends. You simply need to click on a link, read my poem, and rate it. If I get enough votes, I win, it’s that easy! Please use the link below to vote for my poem, “States of Being.” Please forward this to anyone else you know that could help me out. You can also use the link below on your Facebook or MySpace page to help me receive even more votes. This is a great way to help me share my poetry with the world!
Thanks very much for your vote. I will keep you posted if I win. Wish me luck!
Best regards, Matt Todd

You will note that the link does not appear in this post. Just in case anyone amongst my family or friends might be tempted by the nonsense these people are sending out. And the Email now resides in the isolation room of my virus protection application; can’t be too careful with this stuff.

Apparently there’s a few more individuals out there who have decided to have a little fun with Poetry.com. Somewhere out there in cyber space, is a guy named David Taub, a real life poet, who writes: failure is impossible at poetry.com, the website where every poem is a semifinalist. This guy tried, unsuccessfully, to get a rejection slip from the company. I reprint one of his submissions under the “fair use” provisions of Canada’s copyright laws. It was submitted under the name “Wadda Ass Iyam” and the poem is entitled “Yer Gotta Larf”.

Yew gotta larf at any moreon
who could write, "your poem was selected
for publication, and as a contest semi-finalist, on the basis of your unique talent
and artistic vision."
when we all know this is about as artistic
as vomitting on the neigbour's porch.
Burp... huey... excuse me while I be artistic on your cat. so much for
the vision . . . I never saw your cat.
Now let's get down to the real truth.
You hope I am fooled into parting with
my cash to see this in your anthology.
Wot if NO-ONE bought your books, mugs
plaques, keyrings? (have you thought of musical toilet-roll holders?)
I look forward to receiving your standard letter telling me how artistic this drivel is. If nothing else, I get a free envelope
which I can recycle.

Uh-huh, you guessed it; the damn thing won the “Editor’s Choice” award and was selected as a semi-finalist.

But, for every guy like David Taub or myself, looking to have some fun with this silliness, there are thousands of people out there getting hurt, emotionally and financially by this bunch of rip off artists. They prey on the dreams, vanity and gullibility of would be poets by using flattery and by dangling the (faint) hope of winning cash and/or prizes.

Poetry.com is also known by the following names: International Library of Poetry, National Library of Poetry, Watermark Press and the International Society of Poets. They also run a sister site for “photographers”, along with a photography contest. The site is called picture.com.

Stay away from these assholes. They’re a joke, even if they can’t recognize one.

I won! I won! (Part 2)

I just got another e-mail from the International Society of Poets. They want to publish my poem, based on “my unique talent and vision”. They believe “it will add to the importance and appeal” of their book. Someone call an ambulance; I think I’m about to faint from the excitement. Or puke. Or something. Here’s what they had to say:

“Recently, we informed you by mail and by email that our editors have certified your poem "States of Being" as a semi-finalist in our International Open Poetry Contest.”

“As I also mentioned in my letter, and in celebration of the unique talent that you have displayed, we wish to publish your poem in what promises to be one of the most highly sought-after collections of poetry we have ever published. Immortal Verses will be a classic, coffee-table quality hardbound volume printed on fine-milled paper specifically selected to last for generations. It will make a handsome addition to any library, a treasured family keepsake, and a highly-valued personal gift. And best of all, this magnificent volume will showcase the poetry of Matt Todd on an entire page itself!”

“Before going any further, Matt, let me make one thing clear . . . your poem was selected for publication based on your unique talent and artistic vision. We believe it will add to the importance and appeal of this edition.”

Uh-huh. And, I assume I’ll get a complimentary copy of this book, since my poem is going to be published in it. Uh-huh. I see, I only have to pay the discounted price of $49.95 plus shipping and handling. And, if I want to have a brief autobiography printed on an adjacent page, they’ll only charge me a nominal fee of $25.00.

Let’s see, that’s $75.00 plus $14.00 shipping and handling for a wall plaque and membership in the Society, $50.00 plus $8.00 shipping and handling for the book and another $25.00 to publish a brief autobiography. That’s $147.00 for the whole thing. But, they’ll also provide laminated cards with my poem on them (for a slight fee of course) so I can distribute them to friends and family who may object to paying $49.95 for a copy of the book. And, I can also get my poem printed on coffee mugs, tot bags, sweats, calendars, etc., etc.

That sounds like a fair sized investment, but still, given my “unique talent and artistic vision” I may have a shot at that grand prize of $10,000.00. OK, what do I have to do?

“Regarding the publication of your poetry, if you have not already returned your proof with your approval to publish, you must now proofread your poem, which appears on your Artist's Proof. Please carefully review your poem for typographical errors and make any necessary changes.”

OK, let’s have a look at the Artist’s Proof. Hey, wait a minute. Why is my poem full of asterisks? What the hell is h***? Are they telling me a man with my unique talent and artistic vision can’t say “hell” in their damn book? And just what in the devil have they got against the de***? Why are they branding my “work of art” with asterisks? Are these guys related to the dumb ass who branded baseballs Barry Bonds balls with an asterisk? It’s time these people got a piece of my mind.

Dear Howard,
As a man of unique talent and vision, I must take exception to your interference with the artistic integrity of my work. A true artist such as myself cannot, will not, have his art compromised on the whim of a censor who obviously doesn’t recognize a masterpiece of modern literature when he sees one. Your censorship of “States of Being” is inexcusable and I will not tolerate such behaviour from those of lesser genius than myself. Therefore, I will not permit my work to be butchered on the pages of any book you publish.
Respectfully,
Matt

That should give those scam artists something to think about. Sometimes the internet can be so much fun!

To read more on the Society of Poets rip off, visit:
ripoffreport.com

I won! I won! Oh, shit.

A couple of weeks back I was looking for a site to host the MP3 files I planned to make available for readers to listen to and/or download. I found a great file storage site, called FileDen and also a free MP3 player widget from MyFlashFetish. All free.

However, to get to the free stuff, you had to wade through several pages of ads for any number of “fantastic offers”. I read most of them briefly, then clicked on the “No Thanks” button. Except for one; an amateur poetry contest offering a $10,000.00 first prize. Their material claims they are the world’s largest poet’s society and they have had poems submitted by such notables as Bill Clinton and Johnny Cash.

Johnny Cash? My hero! So I wrote a poem and sent it right off to them. Just for fun. It was not a good poem.

It's two weeks later and a few days ago I received an e-mail telling me I was awarded an “Editor’s Choice” award for my submission. Wow. Kinda makes your chest puff out and your head swell. Here’s what they had to say:

Dear Matt,
“Not long ago, our Editors reviewed the thousands of submissions entered in our International Open Amateur Poetry Contest, and they awarded your poem the prestigious Editor's Choice Award. This is an honor awarded to only 12% of the submissions we receive. Now that the first round of the judging process is complete, your poem will enter the next level of judging, becoming eligible for the $10,000 Annual Grand Prize that will be awarded in January 2008. We wish you the best of luck with this next phase of the contest.”

That’s enough praise to send a vain old man riding off on cloud nine . . . until he remembers that riding clouds can be a very dangerous (and expensive) business. Read on:

“Since we announced the names of the winners, many recipients have contacted me and requested a way to display their achievement; therefore, I put our artists and designers to work. We were able to create our most exquisite and distinguished wall plaque ever. This year, we are offering this limited edition wall plaque commemorating your achievement as an Editor's Choice Award recipient. Each certificate is numbered, signed, and mounted on a solid maple plaque. This beautiful display piece truly honors your accomplishment!”

“As an Editor's Choice Award winner, we're sure you'll want to improve your craft and further your involvement in poetry. There's no better way to do that than by joining the International Society of Poets (ISP), the largest poetry organization in the world. As a member of the ISP, you'll receive a quarterly magazine filled with articles, contests, and lots of poetry. In addition, you will be part of an organization that promotes PEACE—Poetry, Education, Accomplishment, Charity, and Equality. Please join the thousands of members who have submitted poetry, including Archbishop Desmond Tutu, former U.S. President Bill Clinton, and the late "Man in Black, Johnny Cash.”

And just how much will it cost me to walk in the shoes of the Man in Black. Uh-huh. I can have both the plaque and membership in the ISP for a mere $75.00 (plus $14.00 for shipping and handling). But, before I hand over the cash, maybe I should take a closer look at the International Society of Poets.

Their website, poetry.com, is actually a very large site with a very large (they claim 6 million entries) database of poets and poetry. Now, let’s see, Johnny Cash. Yes, there he is and he has several poems under his name. Would you like to read one? First, I’d better take care of the legal stuff. Don’t want to get my ass sued for copyright infringement. This poem is reprinted here under the “fair use” provisions of Canada’s copyright legislation, which allows copyright material to be reprinted for educational purposes and critical review.

Tourmented
By Johnny Cash

this was inpired by somebody
that i hope one day would become my wife.
She tought me that the secrets of life
were defined by the jagged edge of a
knife cutting my arm in the middle
of a slaughty night.
as the blood spills it's a thick blue water
that leave quite a soul that was fright.
It's freedom night flying high just like
some dirty old dust going out of sight.
we all love to make a killing upgrading
our own earning because life is all
about learning where nobody could do
for us the teaching i guess it's
the carrying that make us waiting
for the wisdom of an higher calling.

Are they kidding me? OK, so Cash went through some very rough times back in the sixties, with the booze and the drugs. But, was there really a time in his life when he got that strung out. I didn’t even bother to look for Bill Clinton's submissions.

To be continued . . .

Who in the hell is GEMA?

I had intended to fire another shot across the bow of the Music Publishers Association of America. You know, the turkey’s threatening legal action against OLGA, the On Line Guitar Archives. But, in browsing the net, researching stories, I came across an article from Germany that I found both interesting and scary.

A collection rights society is responsible for collecting fees for the performance and mechanical reproduction of musical or other copyrighted works. The MPA, for example, represents the copyright holders who publish sheet music and tab, and see to it that everyone pays for the privilege of publishing copyrighted works in any format, whether for profit or pleasure.

A collection “rights” outfit in Germany is currently negotiating a deal with manufacturers of PC’s whereby they will pay a “levy” to that society, GEMA, on the sale of all new computers sold in that country.

Their justification is that PC’s allow users to make private copies of text, audio and video data distributed over the internet. Since private copying can’t be stopped, they want levies to be paid on new computers in the same way as it is now paid on CD’s, DVD’s, audio cassettes, etc. The money collected, theoretically, will be distributed to the creators of the copyrighted works.

And, before I go much further, I should point out that the collection of a levy is a done deal; the sticking point is how much the levy will be. The organization representing the manufacturers of the PC’s has suggested 15 Euros ($20.00 Cdn) per unit. GEMA is asking for over 36 Euros per unit ($50.00 Cdn).

But, even the most cursory investigation reveals some very serious concerns with this idea. Among the major flaws is a presumption of guilt. GEMA is assuming that every computer purchased will be used to make illegal copies of music, movies and computer applications. This is not the case. And people who download, store or distribute perfectly legal material via the internet should not be required to pay extortion money to anyone for the right to do so.

For example, one of my favourite sites is Project Gutenberg. There you can download free copies of some of the classics of literature; Robert Louis Stevenson, Sir Walter Scott, Victor Hugo, James Fenimore Cooper, Edgar Rice Burroughs, etc, etc. And, there are probably thousands of free computer applications being distributed freely and legally under various licenses across the internet. Should users be required to pay a fee for downloading and copying this legal material?

No one should be fooled by the suggestion that it is the manufacturer who is paying the levy, not the consumer. That’s a no brainer. The additional cost will be passed on to the consumer, whether or not they use their PC for an illegal purpose.

Then there’s the fact that there is already a levy on the blank media, the CD’s, DVD’s, etc. That’s already true in Canada, as well as in Germany. And, in Germany there is an additional levy on the device used to create the media, CD and DVD burners, for example. Adding a levy on top of that is going a little overboard.

And, if the levy itself isn’t going overboard, then the demand by GEMA that the levy should be retroactive to 2002 certainly has to be considered overkill. Estimates are that between 2002 through 2005, there were 13 million computers sold in Germany. The estimated cost of a retroactive levy is 350 million Euros; that’s roughly half a billion dollars Canadian.

Canada’s copyright legislation is being discussed in Parliament as I write this post. Given some of the things happening in the world of copyright restriction, enforcers such as the RIAA, the MMPA, the MPA, and GEMA in Germany, Canadians should be paying a whole lot more attention to what’s happening. There’s a lot more than a few bucks involved.

It’s a matter of personal freedom. Think about it for a minute. Every time you buy a blank CD to record a video of little Bobby’s birthday party, you’re paying a levy to some group you’ve likely never heard of, simply because that blank CD could be used to illegally copy restricted material.

Most people pay little attention to copyright laws, because they don’t think their personal freedoms are jeopardized by copyright restrictions; they’re wrong. And, given the material I’ve collected while researching this topic, I’ll probably be ranting about this bloody madness in future posts.

Weird & wacky county songs (Part 2)

Country music has been around for a long time. Most people give Jimmie Rodgers and the Carter Family credit for the creation of the genre back in 1926 -1927

Both those talents recorded old ballads, often with a new twist, before they got around to writing their own songs. However, neither of these icons can be blamed for the song titles populating the music scene since their demise.

Critics pan country for using the same tired cliches; writing songs about getting drunk, getting laid and going to jail. Admittedly, there are some themes used more or less consistently in country music. Country love songs, for example, seem to follow one of several formulae:

• Boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets drunk and cries in his beer
  
• Boy meets girl, boy marries girl, boy gets drunk and cries in his beer
  
• Boy meets girl, girl loses boy to another girl, girl gets drunk and cries in her beer
  
• Boy meets girl, girl loses boy to another man, girl gets drunk and cries in her beer (Sorry folks, it’s true. Some guy wrote a song called, “I Fell For Her, She Fell For Him, He Fell For Me”
  
• Boy meets girl, boy catches girl cheating and shoots her winding up in jail before he can get drunk and cry in his beer
  

But not all country songs are love songs. For every song about some guy falling for a pretty girl, there’s one about some guy getting saddled with an ugly one. It’s just that songs about ugly women rarely reach the top of the country charts.

How many people have a copy of Ronnie Prophet’s Greatest Hits album, with Ronnie doing, “I Should Have Used A Brown Paper Sack”? Come on people. Give me a break. I can’t be the only one who bought that album. But, as bad as it was, Ronnie didn’t get as vicious as the guy who wrote, “I Wouldn’t Take Her To A Dog Fight (I’m Afraid She’d Win)” or that other classic put-down, “You're The Reason Our Kids Are So Ugly”.

And, I’ve got very little time for guys who want to cry in their beer even when they get the girl. Mickey Gilley started it off with a song called, “Don’t All The Girls Look Prettier At Closing Time.” Wiilie Nelson piped in a few years later with a song called, “I Went To Bed At 2 With A 10 (And Woke Up This Morning At 10 With A 2)”.

I have absolutely no pity for those guys. Everybody knows drinking and chasing women go hand in hand. But guys, if you got that drunk, you got what you deserved. And if you found the situation so distasteful, maybe you should have gone home alone and hummed a few bars of, “At the Gas Station of Love, I Got the Self Service Pump”. Ok, that’s not country, it’s a weird Al Yankovic song, but it fits well. From a personal point of view, when “She Looks Good Thru The Bottom Of My Shot Glass”, it’s time to call it a night.

And, I guess it should be pointed out that it’s not only guys who wake up in the morning disappointed. How about Deana Carter when she begs the question, “Is This Why I Shaved My Legs?” She doesn’t sound a bit like a happy camper to me.

And, I guess I should offer a word of advice to the girl who sang, “All The Guys Who Turn Me On, Turn Me Down”. Try getting to the bar a little later in the evening, preferably near closing time. And remember, all the girls look prettier through the bottom of a shot glass, so buy him a few drinks. He’ll love you for it and that’s what you’re after, after all. Or, you could follow the advice of Georgia White, an old blues artist who used to do a song called, "If I Can't Sell It I'll Keep Sittin' On It (Before I Give It Away). Yes, the song was about peddling ass.

Another staple of the country genre is songs about the womanizer who runs off with your woman sending you to the nearest bar to cry in your beer. Songs like, “He’s Got A Way With Women And He Just Got Away With Mine.” Or that other old country standard, “It Took A Helluva Man To Take My Anne, But It Sure Didn't Take Him Long “ or the one by Jim Eberhart that says, “My Wife Ran Off With My Best Friend (And I Sure Do Miss Him)“

And, country singers always have a word or two to say about nagging wives; songs like, “It's Hard to Kiss the Lips at Night (That Chew Your Ass Out All Day Long)

Wow. Reading all these great song titles has suddenly filled me with inspiration. I think I’ll grab my guitar and write myself a country song. I’ve already got the title. I’ll call it, “I’m Gonna Put A Bar In The Back Of My Car And Drive Myself To Drink.” No, maybe not. I think that one’s already been done.

But I will return to this topic at another time.

The Torching of Todd's Outhouse

It’s Gone, Boys. It’s Gone
By Matt Todd

The night was cold,
The moon was full,
Snow lay on the ground
Some drunken bum came stumbling home
And burned our shithouse down.
We didn’t mind
His going in
We never locked the door
But he never put out his cigarette
He just dropped it on the floor

Chorus:
It’s gone, boys, it’s gone
The news is going round
Some tobacco smoking, drunken fiend
Has burned Todd’s shithouse down.

I’ll bet I know
Who did the deed
My brother Tom did shout
‘Twas that drunken weasel down the road
Let’s burn the bastard out
But Da said no,
Here’s what we’ll do
While the snow’s still on the ground
Dump the porcelain pot at Willie’s
‘Cause our shithouse has burned down
Repeat Chorus:

When the frost unfroze
We built a hut,
Dug a new hole in the ground
Still cussin’ that miserable son-of-a-bitch
Who burned our shithouse down
Repeat Chorus:

There she was; up in flames

Since the music industry shut down OLGA (On Line Guitar Archives) with threats of legal action, free tab and song lyrics are a little harder to find. I’ve found a couple of sources who appear to have reached some sort of compromise with the blood sucking legal beagles of the record companies and the music publishers. Not that I’m taking sides, you understand. The money grubbing bastards have a perfectly legal right to squeeze poor, old guitar pickers like myself for every last dime. Morally, of course, it’s another issue.

One of the better sites still active, is Roughstock.com; check them out if you’re looking for country tabs or lyrics. Recently, I was on this site looking for the words to an old Bobby Bare tune. I spotted a song called “The Little Brown Building”, recorded by Bare in the early sixties .

The little brown building he sang about was, of course, an outhouse. An outhouse? You know, the little house out behind the big house where you went to relieve yourself. What do you mean, ”Relieve yourself of what?” Where you went to take a shit, dammit. Yes, that too. But, you could do that behind any bush in the yard as long as the neighbours couldn’t see you. Anyway, the first verse of the song goes;
They passed an ordinance in the town
They said we’d have to tear it down
That little old shack, out back
So dear to me
Though the Health Department said
It’s day was over and dead
It will live forever in my memory

It was intended, I recall, as a novelty song. But I also recall thinking at the time “What’s so funny about an outhouse?” You see, at the time the song debuted on radio, we still had ours. No, not the radio, the outhouse. Well, yes, we still had the old Marconi, but we’d stopped using it in favour of getting bleary-eyed watching Cheyenne and Sugarfoot on the big, new radio with the pictures on it. Anyway, another line from the song goes:
It wasn’t fancy built at all,
It had newspapers on the wall
It was air-conditioned in the winter time

Except for the newspaper on the wall bit, that line pretty much describes our outhouse. (We used our old newspapers to start the fire in the coal stove.) Our humble hut was made of barn board; the sizable cracks between boards letting those cold winter winds come whistling through.

Do not laugh. It was not funny. Have you ever had to deal with frost-bite on the ass?

Anyway, as I sat there humming the tune to myself, it brought back memories (as any good country song should) of a time long ago and far away. I think I was in grade eight, which would make it some time around 1957 or 1958.

It happened in the wee hours of the morning, while we were all snug in our beds. The coal stove in the kitchen was banked, the new oil-fired floor furnace turned up just enough to keep the ice off your ass and I was having sweet dreams about my buddy’s older sister Dorothy. That’s when the racket started.

Visions of Dorothy vanished as quickly as if someone had pressed the delete button on some extraterrestrial computer keyboard.

As I blinked my eyes open, wondering why the bedroom light was flickering, I could hear an engine revving up just outside the bedroom wall. It sounded like someone was getting ready to drive a big Sherman tank through the side of the house. It wasn’t a tank, of course, but rather the pumper truck from the local fire hall.

That’s when I noticed the bedroom light wasn’t on, and the light illuminating the room had an eerie red glow. It’s also when I heard my younger brother, Tom, exclaim from the lower bunk: “Holy shit! The shitter’s on fire.”

Even back then, he had a way with words.

I jumped off the top bunk, retrieved my chinos and ran towards the window. (Not much running to do in a small, 9 x 9 room.) I was busy watching the local volunteer fire department put out the raging inferno that was our outhouse when I realized I’d forgotten to check the floor for bodies. No. No. Not dead bodies. My siblings.

Although that may sound silly, when there’s two parents and five kids in a two bedroom house with no basement, you never know where you’ll find one. And a couple of them were very small bodies which created a trip hazard.

Anyway, they put the fire out and we all got back to bed. Unfortunately, I was unable to revive my dream of Dorothy. In the morning, we woke with the dawn to the smoldering remains of our beloved outhouse. Alas. This story has no happy ending.

We’ll ignore the snickers of the other kids at school when the details of the Todd’s terrible tragedy started making the rounds. “Oh, my God. They still have one of them?” Some were more sympathetic. “That’s a sin. They’ll have to walk all the way to town and use the one in the co-op.”

To appreciate the full gravity of the situation, run this scenario in your mind. Your toilet won’t flush. The plumber can’t make it until next spring. You’ve got a spouse and five kids. What are you going to do? No. No. Besides tear your hair out.

Exactly. Run to the neighbours.

Several years ago, I tried to put the incident to music, thinking it might make a good country song. It didn’t work out. I had a title and a verse, but I realized I’d need several verses just to explain to the uninitiated what an outhouse was and how it was used.

Think about it. What is an outhouse, after all? It’s a little hut that sits over a big hole in the ground. And the seat inside has a small hole in it that you sit on after dropping your drawers. There’s usually flies a buzzing and you can find the thing in the dark by following your nose.

Anyway, I’ll tell the tale of the torching of Todd’s outhouse, in verse, in my next post.