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Entry #478
Wednesday, July 11, 2001

A few things got me to thinkin' today. Bear with me a bit while I ramble a smidge.

So eight o'clock a.m. I'm downtown. Actually, I got off the bus at 7:20 at James Street, many blocks south of where I wanted to be.

"Can I have a transfer," I ask the driver, an old grandfather type. No response. Maybe he didn't hear. "Can I have a transfer?"

He breathes once -- one of those little-bit-wheezy but not-too-concerning type of breaths that many grandfather types breathe. "You're supposed to get a transfer when you get on," he grumbles.

"My apologies," I respond cordially.

He tears me off a pass. I get off. Is there some "transfer rule" signage on that bus?, I think to myself. How are people to know about transfer etiquette? Is that really a regulation? I need to look that up. They must have some rule book or something. I wonder if it's online.

I hit One Union Square at 7:40, twenty minutes early. Brian's speaking at some monthly breakfast Business Wire puts on, mostly attended by PR people. It's one of those shindigs where they even have a title for the talk, Brian's being something like "Creative leaking and selective disclosure." Brian's computer is hooked up to a projecter and he clicks around to some of his articles where a "leak" was involved. He talks about exclusives, holding back press releases for a pre-release, how CyberRebate was a big consumer assfuck and we were the only journalists to notice, how "sources close to the company" pcould be the CEO, who can later say "we're not sure who disclosed this, but we're gonna find them and fire 'em." Told 'em all that stuff. All in all, it was a good talk, lots of funny stuff. People actually stayed the full hour.

When he's all done, people ask questions and he answers them pretty good, cutting short his often-long tangents and bringing the subject back to the actual question at hand. Then the lights come on, I grab an Odwalla orange juice and some cake-like bread products from the breakfast trays, and people get up and mingle a bit and start to leave. Some lady asks me about being located in Seattle and some other not-too-technical something or others. Half a dozen people are questioning Brian and I'm kinda looking on, eating my breakfast stuff.

Some guy starts asking me questions about what he can to improve his company's exposure, press release tactics, how he's got what we call a "new product category," and all this type of stuff. And at first I thought, wait, what the fuck do I know about press releases and how this guy can get his company more exposure?

But I spit out a bunch of stuff that somehow seemed logical. I kinda feel like I'm just spitting out a bunch of bullshit -- I may have been -- but we do get some leaks before someone announces something and we are with the media. So I guess doin' the whole "research director" thing for darn near a year now has learned me a few things that this guy wants to know.

And this guy listened and asked a bunch of questions and I'm telling him that he might need a non-geek to adequately explain his product to the press, because they'll look at your press release for twenty seconds and if it doesn't jump out at them, they'll bit bucket the thing. Or maybe you could start with a local paper and they'll digest it into something edible for a twenty-second reading, and the scoop doesn't matter because local papers don't count. NDAs? Out of the question.

That was an weird experience. It's like I always find it akward when people take me seriously and try to extract all this knowledge I have. It's like I have a hard time thinking that what's in my head is valuable.

And you know why? I think it's 'cause I'm a hobbiest.

Because today, when I watered the garden, I saw those little fuckers that munched down on the cauliflower -- they were in a small leaf, wrapping it around them. I think they came with the compost I added the other day. I should read about cauliflower, I thought, learn about the pests that pester cauliflower. Because I don't know shit about cauliflower. Because I don't need to -- if the caulflower die, it's not the end of the world, it's just a hobby.

And I also don't want to be a lawyer, I just want to sue stupid telemarketers and other miscreants and know my shit when cratchety old bus drivers give me gruff.

I was down at the Ethics and Elections Commission today for an "intro to campaign disclosure requirements." Grant Cogswell's running for city council and he talked me into being his treasurer. I didn't want to, but he didn't have anyone else and he's a good guy and I've never treasurered a candidate committee before, so I said okay. The SEEC intro takes two full hours. I bantered with Polly, the SEEC woman giving us the crash course. Grant and Phil, his campaign man, asked a few questions, but I was actually answering questions and posing hypotheticals to Polly.

"I've always thought that rule was a huge barrier to low-budget campaigns and the music community and -- basically poor people. A five-dollar punk show should be a low-cost fundraiser. I know this has been a barrier to a number of campaigns. This is a horrible campaign finance rule."

"Well, the law wasn't originally written with that intent," Polly says.

"A terrible, terrible law."

"Well, tell us how to fix it!"

"You know what, I'll take a look at it and see if I come up with anything. Polly, you've inspired my crusade."

So I'm gonna get out my tinkering tools and see what I come up with. Because I don't want to write laws all day, I just want to tweak a few because I think they could be better. I'm just a hobbiest.

And what's even weirder is that I think I know how to write laws. I've never taken a class or anything, I've just read a bunch of other laws and figured some stuff out about legal syntax. I'm D.I.Y. -- a hobbiest. I'll just see what other law writers are writing.

Because I really enjoyed bantering with Polly about whether or not issue-based organizations providing free services to a campaign -- say the ACLU working on a candidate's legal case against the city where issues involved were related to the ACLU's mission -- must be reported as giving in-kind contributions. (The answer is no.)

And I'm thinking that Polly must like her job, 'cause it seems like the sort of thing I would like to do for a few months -- you know, a hobby. And I'm wondering whether she enjoys talking hypothetical $100 cash in an envelope sans return address -- $55 cash limit per donor rule apply? Because I enjoy it.

After this one-hundred and twenty minute crunch session, a candidate will understandibly think, crap, this is really, really complicated, because frankly, it is really, really complicated.

In the hall, Grant's gracious. "I didn't realize how complex this was. I really appreciate your help. You seem to be up on all of this."

I wonder if he knows that this is a hobby to me. I've actually read through the campaign finance laws many times, just cause I thought it'd be interesting to know it.

And I understand how people could value the knowledge in my head, but it still kind of amazes me. 'Cause I'm just a hobbiest, puttering around and tinkerin' with stuff.

Comment on this entry

"Hobbyist"

Haha.

Could you please change the picture at the top of your page. I will see you Sunday.

Mom, if you <B>really</B> want me to change the picture, I will. However, you will only have yourself to blame when you see the other skate porn images I have.

-- Your loving son.

Can I provide you with an adorable picture of you when you were about 3 covered with chocolate while wearing your panda bear costume to put up there?

Yes, but keep in mind that I'm an artist, so I might have to put a bunch of dildos or a taxidermized dog in the photo.

And mom, please stop being so square. You're making me look very uncool to all of my Internet friends. Just embrace my artistic ability and the skate porn that goes with it.

You're talking to your mother through your web site. And used the word "Dildo". How could you possibly not be cool?