Sometimes it doesn’t pay to be nice.

That’s another thing the mainstream media is clueless about. Now that everybody gets an opinion, now that we’re contemptuous of those with riches and fame, when you’re nice to those with status, when you suck up and play like you’re one big family, we puke.

Of course Megyn Kelly is attractive. More than that. Not the toppermost, but way damn up there, even if she was aided by plastic surgery. But that does not mean she has talent, that does not mean she deserves accolades, that does not mean her coronation sits well with so many of us. But that’s another feature of the industrial hype machine, they’ve got to build ’em way up, until the ratings go down and the star is plowed under and someone else is anointed. Today you don’t earn your stripes, your publicist maneuvers to have your story told over and over again in the press, creating a veritable turntable hit, something that appears important but the public has rejected.

Furthermore, in an every day news cycle, we had to hear about this interview forever. It was akin to the Bobby Riggs/Billie Jean King tennis match. The battle of the sexes. But despite Riggs playing Trump, being nice to King at the beginning of the contest, Billie Jean was fierce and roasted him. If only Megyn had done the same to the Donald. If only instead of softballs she’d zeroed in, nailed him. Of course he would have whined, trashed her on Twitter thereafter, but that was what we were rooting for. Especially after the advance hype. Some zingers. And we at home are the ones who are scoring, not the scribes in the newspapers who all got it wrong re Trump.

And we scored this interview a zero. Maybe a two on an absolute scale.

Don’t give Roger Ailes that much credit. He blew the Trump opportunity to begin with, furthermore, despite trashing his cable news competitors his audience is tiny and aged, Fox News is equivalent to Oldchella, get the geezers to overpay and rattle their jewelry one more time before they drop dead. Give Ailes credit for going with a young ‘un, but he squandered the opportunity.

Then again, does Kelly deserve the opportunity?

Overseas they call them “news readers.” Because that’s what the anchors do, read what the writers have written. There’s no pretense that the person on screen is a genius. But in America, we laud the one on camera, those out of sight are out of mind. But even so, over the decades we’ve descended from Walter Cronkite and John Chancellor to a bunch of average intellects propelled by their looks. This works for no one.

And to have Kelly selling a book at the end…

Who cares?

I hoped that paradigm died with the fifteen minutes that turned into the better part of a decade of fame for Sarah Palin before she became a laughable joke that even the right wing resented. That’s right, Ms. Palin resigned her governorship and then the whole damn family sold out to the highest bidder, doing reality TV, having the last laugh on an American public that reveres money. She won, no doubt. But Kelly is no Palin, and I mean this in a good way, Megyn’s not a nitwit. So why is she playing nitwit games?

Have a backbone. Stand up for what’s right…truth, justice and the American way.

But Fox News is biased and she’s just a pawn in their game. And the American way is the true believer rugged individual, who goes off into the wilderness to make something of themselves, not beholden to usual strictures, an inspiration for the rest of us. And Megyn pulled herself up by her bootstraps, throwing overboard a legal career, but ending up a middle manager.

We want people to believe in.

And we believe in those who push the envelope, who have insight, who do it their own way. They’re a beacon in the wilderness, and believe me we need the light, it hasn’t been morning in America for a very long time, unless you’re rich it’s perpetual darkness. We want to believe someone is on our side. That’s what got Bernie and Trump there to begin with.

But despite Paul Krugman, the liberal economist in the “New York Times,” excoriating Sanders’ economic policies, we’ve got no real scrutiny of Trump on the right, because they’ve been selling falsehoods forever and they don’t want the truth revealed, that their policies benefit the fat cats and no one else. And now this special benefited Kelly and no one else. In that it made so many aware she had a book. It was her Kanye moment.

Although Kanye would have done it totally differently. That’s what we love about him, he doesn’t seem to care whether we like him or not. He’s Trump on steroids with a modicum of talent to boot. Charlie Sheen may be in the rearview mirror, but Kanye’s winning all the while.

Does everything have to be smoke and mirrors? Does everything have to be about the sell? In a coarse society riven with online hate do we have to watch elite club members pay lip service to each other?

Megyn Kelly’s credibility took a huge hit last night.

And at the end of the day, that’s all you’ve got, your credibility, your word, your identity. Your money won’t keep you from cancer and it might get you in the door but it won’t buy you real friends.

I wanted sparks. I wanted news. I wanted Megyn to get up on her high heels and pierce the Trump veil.

But she can’t. It’s not in her character. Her boss told her not to. And it’s only techies who don’t listen to their boss.

But Steve Jobs was a hero who changed the world.

And Mark Zuckerberg owns it. Hell, the right wing has its knickers in a twist believing Facebook news is biased. Imagine that, a guy in a hoodie wagging the dog.

That’s what rock stars used to do.

And we counted on the press to interpret it all for us.

But those days are in the rearview mirror.

Just gimme some truth.

It’s lonely out here, I want to belong.

But not to a club of phonies kissing ass believing commerce is everything.

Lively Up Yourself – Spotify

I heard this today on No Shoes Radio, Kenny Chesney’s Sirius station that for some reason I can only get on my XM receiver but not my Sirius one. It’s channel 62, I caught the press release somewhere and tuned in, I LOVE IT!

People’s sensibilities are wider than the narrow channels programmers put them in. And listening to No Shoes you’ll hear stuff as varied as “Paradise City,” Bryan Adams, Pete Yorn, live Chesney takes and this.

Off of “Natty Dread,” Marley’s third album on Island and the third to mean absolutely nothing in America.

I had no idea how to pronounce it. Reg-GAY, like man on man love, or Reg-GIE, like the guy in the Archie comic books? And how would I know otherwise, I was living in a cultural black hole, Middlebury, Vermont, in the seventies, when we only got one snowy TV channel, never mind any FM radio other than the college station. No, I learned about Bob Marley and the Wailers, about reggae, in the press.

And there was a big campaign. I remember reading a story about reggae in the library. That’s where you went to study, your own room was reserved for fun, and writing papers. Actually, you only went to the library freshman year, because then you realized it was a social scene, and if you actually wanted to get any work done you were better off claiming a classroom, they were plentiful and empty at night, I’d climb the stairs in Munroe Hall and have a space unto myself.

But if you wanted to read magazines, you had to go to the library. I’d sit in a carrel and catch up on popular culture, back before Google, before 24 hour TV news, before information was plentiful, when you depended upon “Time” and “Newsweek” to catch you up.

It was like looking through a telescope. Out there somewhere was a scene and I was not a part of it.

I didn’t buy “Catch A Fire,” which was a mistake, because shortly after release they changed the cover, it no longer opened in imitation of a lighter, it didn’t move at all. You had to buy vinyl early, to get the disc in color, to get the gatefold cover, as time went on the label would want to save money and you could no longer get the original.

But I bought “Burnin'” and didn’t understand it whatsoever.

You see there was a whole scene, with no radio airplay whatsoever, there was no frame of reference, I dropped the needle and just didn’t get it.

But I kept buying and not understanding, until the release of “Live!,” which finally captured the energy, all those tracks buried in studio production suddenly made sense. “Trenchtown Rock” taught me when the music hits you feel no pain. And despite still receiving no airplay, I now got it, I danced around the apartment with my hands in the air, that’s the power of the sound.

And the fourth track in that 1975 Lyceum show was “Lively Up Yourself.” But this iteration was totally different from the studio take I’d previously been unable to understand. The downbeat was deeper, Marley was unconstricted, he was closing the audience one by one, but didn’t need their energy to display his, he was on fire.

That’s right, Bob Marley & The Wailers had finally caught fire.

Most radio still missed it. There were no AM hits. What youngsters can’t fathom today is the hit was irrelevant, if you listened to Top Forty you were out of it, all the action was over on FM, on the AORs, and although there were pockets of adherence, radio was still local, you never heard reggae in L.A.

But the tour buzz became deafening. Kinda like today’s EDM shows. But instead of ecstasy it was all about the spliff, the marijuana, not the knock you over your head make you comatose stuff of today, sensimilla had just started to make inroads, but dope that made you high and instead of putting you to sleep made you want to experience the joy.

The English had always loved reggae. It had broken there earlier in the decade. But despite “My Boy Lollipop” being a smash here in the sixties, despite Johnny Nash having a big hit with the incredible cut in Jamaica “I Can See Clearly Now,” despite “The Harder They Come” playing for over a year in cinemas, most people were clueless as to Bob Marley.

And then he died.

And soon everybody knew. It took people that long to catch on. Kinda like punk. Just when it looked like it was gonna fail, it was gigantic.

You’re gonna lively up yourself and don’t be no drag

It’s noon. I’m on the 405. It’s the studio version. But I’m immediately enraptured, I’m reminded of when the sound was enough.

You lively up yourself for reggae is another bag

We didn’t go to the show for the production, certainly not to take photos, although as time wore on we wanted to be seen.

But home was a disaster, those who stayed in their residence were losers. It was all about going out, until broadband and Netflix and everything was reversed.

The movies were a religion.

Food was burgeoning, certainly in the metropolis.

And everybody went to the show.

Unlike today, you knew who was in town. Radio promoted the concerts, the paper listed them all, you lined up for tickets and if the act was famous you had a hard time getting in, if they were not you could see them up close and personal.

And it was all about the sound. It infected us. It made us move our feet, twist our bodies, love our brethren, all in thrall to the ringmasters on stage.

It was a religious experience.

You rock so, you rock so

Like you always did before.

MTV made it about what you saw as opposed to what you heard. No talents like J. Lo could have whole careers. Studio trickery could make anybody a star.

But there’s still room for a band that can lay down in the groove and penetrate people’s souls.

That’s why people went to Fare Thee Well, it’s what the Dead ethos is built upon.

But Bob Marley was for black and white, for everybody, he took this narrow sound and made it universal. Took a long damn time, but the sound has never died. You hear that reggae beat and your mood changes, your body starts to dip, you cast aside your everyday life and you move closer to the flame. Burnin’ from an era when the earth was not run by nerds, but the cool people, who were more about feeling than bucks, who wanted to live a life far from the corporations, one based on instinct, exploration and communication.

You’ve got to lively up yourself.

Don’t be no drag.

P.S. Later this afternoon I heard Busy Signal’s reggae version of Phil Collins’s “One More Night” on No Shoes Radio. Check it out, I’d never heard it before, the reggae beat adds a whole ‘nother flavor:

One More Night  – Spotify

Utterly fascinating.

The readout said “Steve Martin” but it did not sound like him. Obviously, it was him, but he didn’t sound “on,” but like a regular guy.

And that’s who Steve is.

Steve grew up in SoCal, Orange County, Garden Grove, worked at Disneyland, honed his chops at Knott’s Berry Farm and got a gig working on the Smothers Brothers TV show via a dancer he went to school with at Long Beach State.

This is the nexus. The relationship and the ask. You can’t make it if you know no one and you ask for nothing. It’s not pure talent that brings you to the foreground.

And then Martin quit at the top of his game, making dough writing for others, because he wanted to hear the words come out of his own mouth.

I was driving down the hill to meet with the anesthesiologist. My surgeon wanted to know if my sleep apnea required the operation to be done in the hospital as opposed to the surgery center. But as I was cruising down Wilshire I lamented my arrival, I just wanted to listen to Steve.

Not that I’m the biggest Steve Martin fan. Of course I like his work, especially “Roxanne” and “All Of Me,” but the truth is most people come on the radio to sell. That’s what’s wrong with late night TV. The combination of the hype and the prepared comedy material. Who are these people? We never get to know.

But we do on Howard Stern.

At the end of the interview, which lasted the better part of two hours, Steve complimented Howard on his change. That’s right, we can all do it, except for politicians, who are afraid of gotcha moments. You outgrow friends, you realize certain behavior isn’t working for you and I’d be lying if I didn’t say my psychiatrist changed my life. He taught me how to interact with people to my advantage. Instead of just saying whatever popped into my head, feeling I had to be me all the time, he taught me I had a choice, I could behave in a way that improved the odds of a better result, the one I desired. Howard talks about going to the shrink, I’m not sure what transpires there, but I do know too few people are willing to look at themselves and change. They’re locked into their image, to their detriment.

Which is to say I sat in my car and listened as Steve said he didn’t want to be in Vegas singing “I Got You Babe” at the age he is now. Cher took offense, Steve was a writer on her show. Celebrities have thin skins. And despite what they say, they read everything about themselves. And they hold grudges even worse than you and me. But Steve explained he wasn’t saying Cher shouldn’t be singing the song in Vegas, but HIM!

But then I had to go inside.

I wish I didn’t waste so much time listening to Howard Stern. But the show provides not only entertainment, but a community. I think I know all these people. Furthermore, there’s no artifice, no climbing the ladder, Howard hates when his employees try to leverage their airtime into broader success. Instead, the focus is on revealing insecurities and warts, failings, humanizing everybody, and that makes me feel more comfortable in my own skin.

I ended up listening to most of the interview via the Sirius app, which is a piece of crap, everybody knows it. It’s fine if you’re listening live, but if you want to download something… Not only are the menus unintuitive, you’re constantly being thrown back to the live show and having to start all over. But if you stay with it, you can get the show, and I did.

Now one of the reasons this interview was so good is because Howard is in the same wheelhouse as Steve, he too is a comedian. And when two pros go at it the level is heightened, it’s less of an interview and more of a conversation. You feel like a fly on the wall, you don’t want to speak for fear of being noticed, interrupting the flow.

And the flow contained so much.

Steve’s father writing a bad review of his appearance on SNL. Saying Steve was no genius after a screening of “The Jerk.” How do you cope with such a dad?

Well, Steve didn’t know any better. But for a long time had no desire to pass his genes on, feeling he didn’t know how to parent.

But what we learn here is about a life. Of someone who caught the performance bug and tried to figure out how to get ahead. There’s no boasting and no reluctance. Success was a lot of hard work. Interwoven with moments of anxiety and extreme loneliness. We think it’s just a straight shot to the top, but it’s not. And despite starting in his teens, Steve didn’t make it until his thirties.

And when he did…

You’ve got to listen for the philosophy. That’s what Steve studied in school that made him realize he didn’t want to write punch lines, but just be funny, so that the audience was laughing but people didn’t know what they were laughing at.

Upon hearing a recording of himself he stopped drinking during the show, he realized he was slurring his words, he was horrified.

And despite so much success, Steve still heard no, execs didn’t get it. He pitched “Roxanne” to a majordomo who had no idea who Cyrano de Bergerac was.

And I could recite all the details, but that’s not what made this interview so good. Rather it was hearing the story of a guy who wasn’t sure where he was going but definitely wanted to get there. One who had moments of self-doubt and was willing to throw over his success because it no longer felt good. Doing arenas allowed him to stockpile some money, but it wasn’t enjoyable, he stopped. He stopped the two wild and crazy guys skit before it was overdone. You’ve got to have a feel for your career, you’ve got to be in charge, something so rare in today’s executive dominated landscape where money comes first and everybody’s replaceable.

And if you’re listening for tips, this is the wrong place. Oh, you’ll glean some wisdom, but the truth is this Steve Martin interview is so good because it’s a peek into an American life. A boomer born to parents doing what they should who wanted more out of life and went in search of it.

Of course there was some talk about Martin and Edie Brickell’s musical, you can’t get any legend to appear unless they’re hyping something. But the truth is that wasn’t even 5% of the conversation.

Conversation. That’s what we live for. Interaction, knowledge, experience. Steve writes so well from a female point of view because he’s constantly asking women why they got married, what caused the divorce, not for material but because he’s interested. I want to know everybody’s relationship story, because that’s what life is about.

Now you can hear some excerpts via SoundCloud.

And you can live without subscribing to Sirius and listening to Stern.

But your life will be so much richer if you do.

“Steve Martin’s Relationship with His Father”

“Steve Martin on Getting His Comedy Writing Chops with The Smothers Brothers”

“Steve Martin Accidentally Insulted Cher”

“Steve Martin’s Friendship With Johnny Carson”

“Steve Martin on Stand-Up”

“Steve Martin’s Musical ‘Bright Star'”

I’m having a blast telling Alexa what to play from Spotify.

I said I was never going to buy a computer until you could talk to one.

That was thirty years ago.

I fell into the computer revolution and haven’t exited since, I love the stimulation at my fingertips, but I still don’t use Siri, I don’t have time for that many corrections.

But Alexa gets it right.

I never would have purchased this product if Gary Dell’Abate hadn’t raved about it. That’s right, Gadget Gary, the producer of the Howard Stern show. I saw him at Musicares and he couldn’t stop raving, said I had to get one.

REALLY?

But then the buzz started to spread. Felice ordered one for my birthday.

But it took weeks to arrive.

That’s right, despite living in an on demand economy, that which is desirable is unattainable, whether it be concert tickets or the latest technology.

But I could wait.

I’ve still been waiting. Dealing with my shoulder trauma I didn’t want to delve into Echoland. Because you know how it is with new equipment, setup is never seamless, you’ve got to dedicate hours, and oftentimes you’re in the middle of it after midnight, knowing you should go to bed but unable to until you solve this problem.

My Echo wouldn’t work.

It comes with a short cord. I don’t know if they’re saving money or if there’s an issue of signal loss or… But all I know is I couldn’t put the Echo just anywhere. And after setting it up…nothing. You’re supposed to get colors atop the cylinder. I felt like calling Amazon, I never call for tech help, it’s a waste of time, you can find out the answer easier and quicker online. And the last time I called Applecare… The person had an accent and she couldn’t solve my problem and despite taking my phone number we got disconnected and she didn’t call back. My problem is still unsolved… It’s about synching the keychain over multiple devices, so your passwords will appear on your iPhone and vice versa. And yes, I called Applecare last, after troubleshooting myself, but on the forums everybody was tearing their hair out, everybody was having the same problem, like I said, I still am.

But Amazon is the new Apple.

How do I know?

The Echo came with almost no instructions. Simple packaging. Not a work of art, like Jobs’s creations, but far from the old Microsoft where there’s so much info you’re inundated.

Turned out the Echo wasn’t plugged in. I know, I know, TECH 101! But it’s not that I hadn’t plugged it in, but the plug had slipped out. I thought of this before I called, I’m not a complete nitwit. And then the lights started to swirl and I hooked it up to the wifi and Alexa was alive.

But she wasn’t loud enough.

A little research told me to twist her dial. Maybe that’s what the remote is for, the one that no longer is included because most people don’t use it.

And after asking Alexa a few questions, I hooked up my Spotify account.

Credit the Swedish streaming company. They’re horrible marketers, but great technologists. They’re on the Alexa bandwagon early, Apple Music can’t even get out of its own way. You’re following the buzz, right? That despite the number of subscribers analysts are pooh-poohing them, saying with this number of Apple accounts, with this number of credit card numbers, the adoption rate should be higher. But if you can use Apple Music you’re not using much of it. The interface is counterintuitive, a mess. And there’s no free tier.

You can’t use Spotify with Echo unless you have premium, that is you pay…

But it didn’t work anyway.

Ah, A GLITCH!

Back to Safari for research.

Needless to say, I was not the only one with this problem. And after reading arcane solutions the one that made sense was to wait, that Alexa needed to download a firmware update, and within an hour Spotify would work.

It did.

And I’ve been having fun ever since.

You see Alexa cuts out a step. Before the Echo, you had to think of a track and then find it, click it and play it. Dealing with Spotify’s inefficient search field along the way, that’s somewhere where Apple is better.

But now… You just say the name of the track and act, tell Alexa you want to hear it via Spotify, and she cues it right up.

WHEW!

What do I want to hear?

I pulled up the Beatles, Andrew Bird, Blondie Chaplin, Simon & Garfunkel. Even Billy Joe Royal’s “Down In The Boondocks.” My mood would change, my synapses would fire, I’d think of a song and there it was.

POSITIVELY THRILLING!

And she rarely got it wrong.

Now it’s not only Gary Dell’Abate. I follow Katie Boehret, the tech reporter, and on Friday she tweeted:

“We parked our car tonight and my 2 1/2-y-o son said, ‘Alexa, turn off!'”

Hysterical, I know.

But the truth is the younger generation never knows what it missed, it’s not locked into the past. Boomers think music is made on guitars, millennials think it’s made on laptops.

Voice activation is finally here. There are still a few things to figure out. But never underestimate the power of convenience.

You’re gonna own an Echo, you just don’t know it yet.

Echo