Originally posted April 29th, 2012
By Michael Konik
You’ve talked to someone thirty-or-younger recently, so you’re aware that we’re presently living in the blissful state of no worries.
No worries, bro.
The problem for those of us who read newspapers and have some time to think is that there seems to be plenty to worry about — if you’re into that whole caring about stuff mode. The world quite often feels like it’s on the precipice of disaster, a calamity (or apocalypse) about to be perpetrated against humanity by humanity. No worries? Well, not really, bro.
But after 4:20PM, when we brooding types might discover a more charitable and optimistic state of mind, the sentient observer begins to understand that, wow, yeah, everything we fret about already has been fully explained to everyone’s satisfaction and there really is nothing to worry about.
Lehman Bros. Bonuses. No worries, bro. Yes, shortly before the firm’s 2008 collapse, which precipitated the . . . → Read More: No Worries, Bro
Originally posted April 22nd, 2012
By Michael Konik
If you’re reading this essay on MichaelKonik.com, you know that this is a reliable place to find “me,” the me who shares his ideas with the world, whether or not any part of the world is interested. This is where I unilaterally invade my privacy, allowing strangers to read my mind, exposing my beliefs and my doubts, keeping very little secret. You want to know what I think about something? It’s pretty easy to know. My Thoughts are even searchable. Hiding is almost impossible when you’re trying to be unflinchingly honest.
Yet if you’re looking for me on Facebook, I’m not there.
There’s an official Michael Konik Author page, which serves as a publishing conduit for my Thoughts. Dozens – dozens! – of people “like” it. Facebook also offers several Michael Konik Community pages, the equivalent of digital flypaper, where people who are looking for me on . . . → Read More: Free to Be Disconnected
Originally posted March 25th, 2012
By Michael Konik
Outrageous. Horrifying. Disgusting.
These were some of the adjectives hurled in the press when news broke that the former world champions of football, the New Orleans Saints, for years had instituted a bounty system that rewarded their players for knocking opponents out the game. Players contributed to an in-house pool and collected $1,000-$1,500 when they scored a knockout. Hitting someone so hard that they required a stretcher or motorized cart to be removed from the field earned a special commendation.
The National Football League, presenters of America’s favorite gladiatorial spectacle, handed down sentences to the malefactors. The General Manager and an assistant coach were suspended without pay for about half the upcoming season. The head coach, Sean Payton, was banned for the entire year. And in a maneuver eerily reminiscent of the Soviet Gulag, the former defensive coordinator and alleged mastermind of the bounty program, Greg Williams, . . . → Read More: Violence Voyeurism
Originally posted February 19th, 2012
By Michael Konik
We here at MichaelKonik.com aren’t persnickety. We’re not prudes. We don’t take offense. Very little is out of bounds in our way of thinking. Sure, venality and cruelty and mendacity tend to rankle and annoy, and, sure, we’re probably more squeamish than most when it comes to violence. But “bad words” don’t bother us like they do most folks. Nigger, kike, cunt: they’re all ugly and malevolent constructs, yet you’ll not hear us calling for their banishment from the lexicon. We’ve got a cast-iron ear and a libertarian commitment to free speech.
So, comedians of the world, particularly those who dominate the Los Angeles scene, you’ll understand that our complaint isn’t born of language discomfort. It comes from wanting comedy to be as funny as it can be.
Kumail Nanjiani, Jonah Roy, Greg Proops, Blaine Capatch, Barry Rothbart, and dozens more comics who want to be as funny as . . . → Read More: A F*cking Problem in the Comedy World
Originally posted January 8th, 2012
By Michael Konik
“Guinnessport,” is not a British drinking game. It’s a new sport/lifestyle choice that fetishizes (and glorifies) obsessive-compulsive behavior. Guinnessport contestants compete to hold the most certified records in the Guinness Book of World Records, including the record for holding the most records (367, at present). Activities like cycling underwater. Carrying a brick in one hand at waist level. Standing on one foot. Clapping.
The top Guinnessport athletes hold more than 100 of these records simultaneously. To accomplish serially and consistently such arduous feats usually requires extensive training periods. As with most athletic pursuits, to be a successful Guinnessportsman means devoting most of your waking hours to nothing but Guinnessport. Your life’s work is to set soon-to-be-broken records.
The cynics among us might be tempted to point out that Guinnessport is a colossal waste of time and energy, and that this maniacal (and egocentric) pursuit of trivial glory . . . → Read More: The Benefit of Benefits
Originally posted December 11th, 2011
By Michael Konik
Marx famously thought that religion was the opiate of the masses. If he were around today he could safely add sports and every other form of entertainment to the societal apothecary. We pay burly fellows like Albert Pujols more than $25 million a year to hit baseballs and petite ones like Tom Cruise about the same to look handsome while dangling from skyscrapers.
They deserve every penny, and maybe more. Our court jesters and fools don’t merely distract us from the gloom and anxiety of a fully examined life. They fill our spiritual emptiness with comforting narratives, gracefully lending what feels like meaning to the unsolvable mystery of existence – sort of like what religion does for the naïve and credulous among us. And for that we’re grateful.
The ancients had Talmudic scholars. We moderns have sports talk radio and TMZ. Since there’s always something to argue . . . → Read More: Tom Sawyer Syndrome
Originally posted November 27th, 2011
By Michael Konik
Friends are fickle. Family is unreliable. But shopping – now that’s something we can all count on to raise our collective Holiday Spirit. This was the primary message of hope we heard during Thanksgiving, which has gradually morphed into a two-day bacchanal. (Day One, Thanksgiving Thursday, features food and football. Day Two, Black Friday, features standing in lines and buying things.) In recent years, a period in which overconsumption has become a symbolic form of American art, the second part of the two-day holiday has threatened to overtake the first part in cultural importance. Indeed, in many places Friday is now beginning at 10PM on Thursday.
Here’s how someone the Los Angeles Times identified as a “retail expert” explained early reports that shoppers were “in a frenzy” of spending: “People have had so many years of recession that they want to spend money and feel good about . . . → Read More: Shopping Our Way to Happiness
Originally posted August 21st, 2011
By Michael Konik
Attention! Everyone and everything, especially the ones and the things with stuff to sell, wants our attention. (This essay wants your attention – and if it hasn’t grabbed it by now, the author is probably in big trouble. Lacking curvaceous breasts, a sparkling smile, or the imprimatur of a certifiably important celebrity to give it gravitas, the poor thing is a big underdog in the Attention Game. But on it goes, pathologically determined to say what it means, even if it’s already lost you.) Today is now is fast is hot is the trend is now is sexy is now is fabulous is easy is mine is My is now is catchy is right now!
Funny tweet. Provocative status update. Latest video. The Number One something in America. A scandal. A shame. A pity. An inspiration. A shock. An affirmation.
Got it?
When our senses are stimulated . . . → Read More: Paying Attention
Originally posted August 14th, 2011
By Michael Konik
We’ve previously discussed how poor programming choices on jazz radio are unintentionally sabotaging the medium’s noble mission to “keep jazz alive.” But terrestrial radio, an increasingly irrelevant distribution channel in the age of the Internet and satellites, isn’t the only culprit in our music’s alleged “death.” Some of jazz’s most effective assassins are the people who care most: the professional musicians.
In an age when fewer folks than ever are willing to pay for recorded music, the only way for a full-time jazz recording artist to earn a living is by touring, giving concerts, putting on shows, performing – being a performing artist.
Performing Artist: It’s a two-word job description. The majority of accomplished jazz musicians have no problem with the second part, the artistry thing. They’ve committed their life to learning and mastering a transcendent and mysterious magic replete with its own language, codes, and customs. . . . → Read More: Jazz is Dead, Part 2: Performing Artists
Originally posted July 23rd, 2011
By Michael Konik
Since the 1970s, for as long as I’ve been aware of the music commonly known as “jazz,” various authorities, mavens, and aficionados have been declaring it dead or soon-to-be-deceased. “Jazz is dead.” “Jazz is dying.” “Jazz is going extinct.”
If this is so, the suffering patient has been enduring a kind of decades-long hospice care that would bankrupt Medicaid. While it’s true that jazz record sales comprise a comically small percentage of the (withering) recording industry and an even smaller slice of the radio market, and live music venues calling themselves jazz clubs close more frequently than sales of foreclosed homes, the music itself is gloriously alive.
Thanks to college jazz programs, the advent of cheap recording technology, and an irrepressible need for members of a free society to express themselves individually and collectively, there are more artists than ever creating modern American music rooted in improvisation. . . . → Read More: (K)Jazz is Dead
We're really sorry about our most recent trading loss. People will say we require more oversight, and, in this case, maybe they're right. It shouldn't have happened, and we'll take steps to make sure it doesn't happen for a third time.
The $4,000 or so ($4,882) of your money that we failed to bring back from our annual company trip to Hollywood Park Racetrack and Casino will in... Read More-->
If you’re reading this essay on MichaelKonik.com, you know that this is a reliable place to find “me,” the me who shares his ideas with the world, whether or not any part of the world is interested. This is where I unilaterally invade my privacy, allowing strangers...
North Korea is launching rockets, Syria is slaughtering its citizens, and the Filipino community is organizing a massive get-out-the-vote campaign for a crucial election (not for something boring and unimportant like a public office but a cause that’s got folks passionately engaged: the American Idol finals). So...
Sometimes our chaotic, unknowable, seemingly random Universe arranges itself with perfect symmetry. In these moments of bracing clarity, authored by a Creator (in whatever guise or nomenclature you prefer) whose sense of irony is matched only by her/his/its sense of wicked humor, our innate foolishness and learned...
Poet Robert Pinsky. Pianist Laurence Hobgood. Text, music, and the moment -- what we hear on the new POEMJAZZ recording is two giant artists making something greater than the sum of its parts. While Pinsky recites his lovely words with his unlovely (but weirdly attractive) voice, Hobgood, the longtime arranger and accompanist [...]
Violence Voyeurism
By Michael Konik
Outrageous. Horrifying. Disgusting.
These were some of the adjectives hurled in the press when news broke that the former world champions of football, the New Orleans Saints, for years had instituted a bounty system that rewarded their players for knocking opponents out the game. Players contributed to an in-house pool and collected $1,000-$1,500 when they scored a knockout. Hitting someone so hard that they required a stretcher or motorized cart to be removed from the field earned a special commendation.
The National Football League, presenters of America’s favorite gladiatorial spectacle, handed down sentences to the malefactors. The General Manager and an assistant coach were suspended without pay for about half the upcoming season. The head coach, Sean Payton, was banned for the entire year. And in a maneuver eerily reminiscent of the Soviet Gulag, the former defensive coordinator and alleged mastermind of the bounty program, Greg Williams, . . . → Read More: Violence Voyeurism