Regarding written profanity, I don’t understand when writers X-out a few offending characters when they could talk around the idea with rhetorical wit. Profane words, regardless of obfuscation, still mean the same thing; and yet, for some reason, our internal censors let it go. Worse, writers miss an opportunity to impress their readers.

Personally, I’m not irked by dirty words (however salacious) but I am rather annoyed with the lack of creativity in that their scribes couldn’t find a better way to say it whilst maintaining the conservative sentimentality they clearly want to preserve.

It’s incongruous.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with peppering language with profanity, but it’s often uninspired and cliché. I think to myself, “what the fuck is this shit?” (which should provide some insight into my internal monologue’s maturity level). But, that’s the point: idle thoughts are fleeting; print is forever. And, as a writer, I expect others to put a bit more care into what they print than what they’re thinking about in a given moment.

If you’re going to get dirty and gross, be dirty and gross. Use the words the dictionary affords you. And, for those with the talent, make some up. But, in general, don’t be senseless—censoring your language doesn’t soften its meaning, it just makes you look lazy and, I daresay, stupid.

As the editor-in-chief of The Onion once told me:

There’s nothing like a well-timed fuck.

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Special thanks to Elizabeth King for inspiring this post. Her tolerance for my asinine banter is very much appreciated. Read her blog.

Humanity’s problem-solving process is demonstrably flawed. When we attempt to solve problems, our first instinct is correct conundrums with fixes. However, fixes tend to ignore the causes and roots of problems. In this manner we treat symptoms, not problems.

I am not talking in abstract: people’s flawed approach to problem-solving shows up everywhere in modern life, ranging from mandatory drug cocktails to automobile design.

Example 1: Drugging the Youth

In recent years there’s been a marked increase of diagnosed personality disorders among students. Students with short attention spans are labeled ADD; those with gobs more energy, ADHD. In response, we medicate—sometimes without option—to “fix” chemically-imbalanced kids.

It’s an easy solution: medicate kids and they’ll behave “normally”. As a society, this is how we addressing the ADHD “problem”. But, we’re actually just treating a symptom.

Consider why a kid might score as ADHD: their energy levels might be out of whack due to a high-sugar and largely high-fructose corn syrup diet, or their physical inactivity might be leading to heightened stress levels, leading to social anxiety and poor behavior. Or, their environment at home might not be ideal.

…or, he might just be an 8-year old who’s extremely curious about the world and explores it on a bike and by poking inquisitively at the dirt. Maybe our idea of normal “order” as it relates to Attention Deficit Disorder is flawed, or that we’re doing things to our kids that cause ADD. Instead of examining this, we seek to medicate. We treat the symptom.

Without looking at the secondary effects of medicating kids (or looking in the mirror, for that matter) let’s look at another example where we treat the symptom instead of the problem—and what probably most people don’t think about as a problem at all.

Example 2: Starting and Stopping Cars

First, let’s reframe a car trip as a set of problems:

As designed, cars transport a certain number of people from one point to another. Since you can’t just put people in a box and expect magic to take you there, there are a number of problems that need solving:

1. The car won’t move! The problem: it needs to go.
2. The car is now moving! The problem: it needs to stop.

This is how we fix these problems:

1. The car won’t move! Let’s spend energy: The engine will get it to move!
2. The car is now moving! Let’s spend energy: The brakes will get it to stop!

In both instances, we treat each part of the process as a problem needing a unique solution. But, what if we were to reframe it? Let’s think of braking a “un-going”:

1. The car won’t move! Let’s spend energy: The engine will get it to move.
2. The car’s is now moving! Let’s give the energy back to the engine and we’ll stop!

You’ve heard this called regenerative braking. While the technology is primitive, the concept is not. Ideally, the transaction cost of moving a person from point A to point B should only require energy to overcome wind resistance and friction. (And even there—futurists will tell you—there’s room for improvement.) We, however, currently spend energy at every step of the process: we treat each stage as a discrete problem to solve, not a discrete problem to undo.

In our minds, starting and stopping are both problems. But, opposed to identifying and treating them like opposing problems where one is the solution to the other, we treat them individually like symptoms. Where the cost could have been simply the cost of initiating and managing the start, stop, and travel friction, our universal solution is pricey and costly at every stage.

In terms of energy output, it seems our cars were primarily designed to expend energy, and secondarily to transport us from one place to another.* Inasmuch, when we “fix” problems by treating its symptoms, we generate new problems to fix. Over time, these problems layer over each other into never-ending abstraction.

Feedback loops

Unfortunately, we’re addicting to solving problems, not undoing them. Our economy is fundamentally based on solving problems and pain points, and common perception is that it’s cheaper to address problems by patchwork than to rethink how problems arose in the first place and undoing the situation.

And, unfortunately, it is. Treating problems symptomatically is easier. It’s easier to describe and easier to act upon and easier to think about with a divide-and-conquer methodology. There are fewer moving parts in each part of the problem, and any externalities created through “solving” the problem are somebody else’s problem, or a problem we can put off until later.

Ultimately, we create more work for ourselves—problems beget more problems, and these ill-conceived “solutions” don’t adequately address underlying problems, if at all. Antoine de Saint-Exupéry once noted, “Perfection is attained, not when there is nothing more add, but when there is nothing left to take away.”

Let’s stop fixing problems and start removing them.

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*On that note, hasn’t anyone else found it weird that we take up half of our available roadway in New York City for the storage of empty cars?

When I first watched the video of 2010 Olympic Luger Noder Kumaritashvili’s accident, I was struck—not by the gruesome or graphic nature of the clip—but by its familiarity. Like many gamers, I’ve seen this sort of thing before. Countless times:

Life doesn’t have a reset button. But, when videographers and reporters depict events in a similar fashion—showing only the incident and none of the aftermath—the mind tends to catalog the event in abstraction. Without the sense of finality or consequence, significance is lost.

Those sensitive to violence will have more trouble letting go of what they just saw: for them, the image shocks them and significance isn’t as likely lost. But, for others used to violence and realistic depictions of violence, it’s more likely to be stored as another datapoint for how a human body can crumble at speed.

In discussing this with my friend, Ben Edwards, he remarked how age groups have responded with stark contrast: on average, people tend to be increasingly upset in correlation with age. And it makes sense: the younger you are, the greater chance you’ve been exposed to abstracted violence. The older you are, the greater chance you’ve either experienced real violence or none at all.

I’m not claiming that familiarity with violence is the problem here; but, rather, in presenting violence in the same cut-away shot as a video game does reduces its meaning and impact. And, while I understand that the “money shot” is in those critical albeit violent moments, the media should take note to craft a story that does not shy away from the aftermath of the incident. The Huffington Post has an appropriate feature.

How we remember what we’ve seen is more important than what we’ve seen. And, in order to distinguish real events from virtual events, we need to be mindful: how we frame violence changes the way it’s absorbed. A viewer need not have to review or watch the aftermath of a violent event. But, it’s important that we frame the violence appropriately so we can make sense of it, remembering that the victim often doesn’t get a reset button. Or, if you’re not going to frame it properly, don’t show it at all.

I flew Continental Airlines because of their no bullshit policy: a flight includes a seat, pillow, meals, and all the accouterment you’d expect from a high quality airline. Coupled with great customer service, smooth check-in, and fair prices, it all made sense.

Until today. Today, I checked in and was informed on the e-ticket check-in kiosk that there was a $15 charge per bag. I’ve heard of other airlines doing this, but not my dear Continental. I pay the $15 (I couldn’t carry on the bag if I wanted to due to TSA liquid regulations… but don’t get me started on that one) and walk through security.

Waiting for my flight, I call Continental for clarification on the change in policy. Mostly, I was concerned because nowhere within my normal routine of booking a flight on continental.com was any clear and obvious mention of a bag charge. The conversation went something like this:

“Hi. My name’s Michael Gruen and I have a question about your new bag checking charge. I don’t recall any mention of this when I purchased a ticket, nor in my frequent-flier mailings; I’m not happy about the change and I’d like to talk about it.”

“The website clearly states the baggage policy change. If you have a question about that, I can forward you on to our website technical team.”

“I don’t recall anything about that on the website while booking my ticket, nor do I think you’ve made an earnest (if any) effort to notify your frequent fliers and OnePass members of the fare change. Really, this is kind of bullshit.”

“Oh dear! I don’t have the patience to deal with swearing. Releasing call.” *click*

Oh, Continental, that was smart: hang up on audibly upset, albeit polite customer who’s willing to work with you. I call back.

“Hi. My name’s Michael Gruen and [...] I’m not happy about the charge and I’d like to talk about it.”

“The charge went in to effect about a month ago. When did you book your ticket?”

…blah blah blah, and then the rep said…

“Yes, your ticket falls under our new baggage policy.”

“I’m sure it does. I’m saying I recall no mention of the change, nor any effort on your part to alert me to this charge between my purchasing the ticket and my showing up, with bag, at the airport. And I’d like to talk about what we can do here.”

“That’s a question for our website technical support team.”

“But, it’s not a techni—” *click-transfer-hold music*.

Seriously, Continental? You effectively hung up on me twice over a $15 charge on a $300 ticket to O’Hare from Newark on a Boeing 737-300. This isn’t a commuter flight, and I’ve flown Continental in nearly every month this year.

So, I immediately call American Express (a company I still strongly endorse) and, after a 5 minute discussion, they put in an inquiry on my behalf into the issue and will get back to me via e-mail. And, if they can’t work it out, they encourage me to dispute the charge.

In the end, I don’t mind paying $15 on top of my $300 ticket to check my bag. I just want the airline to be upfront about it and, if they’re charging for baggage, lower the ticket price accordingly.

So, congratulations Continental– you’ve earned your $15 bag checking charge (assuming American Express doesn’t nullify that) but lost a raving fan and customer. I encourage you to call your marketing department and learn how much it cost to earn my business in the first place.

Update: Continental just charged me $50 to fly standby.

Update #2: That “confirmed” window seat turned into a middle seat when I arrived at the gate. Then, they checked my carry-on bag because there was no more room.

Update #3: Ticketing agent blames me for delaying the plane by bringing a carry on. I am livid.

In the wake of a market meltdown, everyone’s talking about how bad it is. Silly thing, though, few people actually have any relevant domain knowledge. Even sillier, people respond in the worst possible way: they stop spending money.

Stock pricing often has little to do with a company’s balance sheet, the piece of paper that describes how good the company is at making money. In practice, most companies are over-priced based on speculation and emotion. (I love Apple! Their products are neat! Oo, Altria! What a cool name! I should buy some of it! [ed: Altria trades under MO, formally Philip Morris, the cancer-purveyors.])

But then the market starts heading south: people look at the balance sheets, start to have lukewarm feelings towards their beloved, and then — oh my god — it’s overvalued. Those golden parachute-loving bear fuckers! Sell! Sell! Sell!

I digress. Let’s talk about how this is your fault.

When the market has a correction, people flip out. With me-too attitudes, people sell their securities, move money in-between banks for FDIC protection (with a lot of hand-waving means that your deposits are protected up to $100,000 courtesy of the government), and then, worst of all, stop spending money.

In America, the vast majority are waged or salaried, and in most cases, regardless of how the market performs, take home the same pay every two weeks. While IRAs and 401ks might be going for a wild ride (which it will do through market cycles anyway), most people’s working budget remains somewhat steady. (Aren’t fixed-rate mortgages and rent contracts nice?)

However, fueled by media speculation and fear, consumers are completely reactionary. They hear “The Dow dropped 100 points on the day” (I wonder what percentage of Americans actually know what the Dow is) and think “OMG WTF the economy is hosed! I’m not going to have any money!”

Yes, you are. But, you’re not going to act like it and your not spending money is compounding the problem. When the markets’ revenues are down, it’s because companies aren’t making money. And they aren’t making money because you’re not spending money.

And as the economy crumbles, and we “need” billions — possibly trillions — of dollars in the form of a “bail out” (the terms somehow absolves certain responsible parties of responsibility) you know who pays for it? You. In the form of a loan, written by your country, to another.*

Stop trading and stop freaking out. Act as if nothing has happened; because to you, in the short term, nothing did.

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*And don’t get me started on how I feel about the bailout.

[Earlier versions of this post had me ranting on for pages. Excerpts I felt worth keeping around and are immediately below.]

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According to Economist-alum Oz Sultan, “The Market” accounts for only 40% of GDP, whereas Main Street has been and is expected to reclaim its share of GDP. For those of you not on Wall Street (about half of my friends) you’re on Main Street.

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How about the other people who are supposed to be handling the situation? How about Henry Paulson the Treasury Secretary? You voted for him vis-a-vis a Bush appointment. How about Christopher Cox, SEC Chairman? You also voted for him, vis-a-vis a Bush appointment.

Maybe it’s Ben Bernanke‘s fault. He’s the guy in change of the Federal Reserve, and he’s testified before Congress that he’s an academic with not a lot of expertise in the matter. Essentially, his job is to keep a harness on the available cash in the market and keep things stable. Though, he’s an academic, and keeps a lofty view of the market. But, despite his ineptitude, this is usually a good thing. You don’t want a wholly-reactionary mind controlling the money supply.

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Additionally, people don’t bother doing the research. In another example, to unfairly pick on my friend, an e-mail went around denouncing the $85Bn AIG bailout, suggesting the government should distribute $425,000 to 200,000,000 US Citizens. If you do that math, that’d require $85 trillion, not billion. And, if they government went along with the e-mails suggestion, it would put $425, not $425,000, in the pockets of americans. Which is, ironically enough, about what Bush’s economic stimulus payback returned come tax time. See what good that did.

This also means that if those 200MM citizens contributed $3,500 to our $700Bn “bail out” plan, we wouldn’t need foreign involvement. Hell, I’d put up the money. Anyone want to start a fund?

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When the economy is unstable, the only safe investment is porn – Avenue Q.

Think about that.

It begins with the letter, ‘N’, and while you reckoned a three letter response, yours has only two. Not one of them is a ‘Y’, ‘E’, or ‘S’, as you may have fancied, so I strongly advise you reassess things.

It is, you’ll find, the exact opposite of your expectations. You were likely anticipating a wide smile, corners furling in affirmation; but, instead, you were met with tight lips. Do not misinterpret this as a playful “kissy-face”; inasmuch, you may sense derisive undertones… and you would be quite astute.

Further, do not presume any change. Ever. When earth reverses polarity, when North becomes South, concrete direction may prove ambiguous; however, rest assured, my answer will not.

No means no.

Google’s GMail, Search, Calendar, Doc, etc. are slick for a reason: they wants you to use their free products so they can show you more ads and generate more revenue. However, Google’s bread-and-butter product, AdWords, resembles a 1990′s back-end business app coded in Oracle. It must be purposeful: it makes them more money.

If you haven’t played with adwords, I suggest you try it. Visit http://www.google.com/adwords/. 404-page? Right. Try again without the trailing slash. 

The first thing you’ll notice is that your Google login doesn’t work. The systems aren’t integrated. Go ahead and set up a new account (and make sure you use an acceptable password… my usual Google Account password is too short).

Great! You’re in. Buying ads for keywords is easy. Just search some keywords, set some bids for a top-3 spot, click continue, click continue again, make sure you accept the terms, click continue, click continue, and you’re good to go! 

Let’s track how you’re doing. Login to Analytics. Set up the tracking code on your website, and *BAM*, you’re tracking your pageviews. (Now, wait a few days for results to populate.)

(Just don’t forget to link your Analytics account to your AdWords account– I’m still not sure how I did it or if it’s working.) 

So, you go back to AdWords. Oh, were you logged in with an account (your Google Account, not your Google AdWords account) that already has an AdSense account? Don’t worry, Google will let you know that you probably wanted AdSense, and forget to give you the option of logging out or linking to your AdWords account. So, browse to Google.com, sign out, and get back to AdSense. (Remember to omit the last slash.)

The first thing you’ll notice is that your convergence goals aren’t tracking. That’s because you didn’t put in the convergence tracking code into your website. Now, wait a few more days. Note: this is separate code from the Analytics tracking. Also note: You’re still not exactly sure how or if your Analytics and AdWords accounts are linked.

Alright! So we’re up and running. You’re getting visitors, they’re converging, and you’ve started tracking which keywords work and which ones don’t. Now, scroll through the 1,000 keywords you’ve purchased and start weeding out the bad ones. … One at a time… It might take all night, but it’s worth it. Get those convergence rates up and start a bidding war on those valuable keywords.

…

Ultimately, most buyers of AdWords won’t get that far. It’s not in Google’s interest. They want most people to be over-bidding and spending less time with the system, optimizing their AdWord purchases. But, given Google’s proven ability to create slick, well-received apps, this tactic feels borderline evil.

Since when did breaking commitments become acceptable social practice? The market for witty proxy apologies is booming.* Diligent and timely communication, thanks in part to cellphones and text messages, gives way to half-assed correspondence and lackadaisical relationship management. 

Enough, already!

For the sake of brevity, let’s get to it:

Gruen’s Rules of Integrity. 

1. Rule: If you say you’re going to do something, do it… even if at great cost to you.
    
2. Rule: If you must break Rule 1 for whatever reason, notify any relevant parties immediately.
   The broken commitment may be due to unforeseen circumstances or prohibitive cost– the reason is less important than the effort. People can sense insincerity.
    
3. Rule: Make up broken commitments as soon as possible.
   Be extra sure not to break that one.
    
4. Rule: Number 2 is the exception, not the rule.
   If you find yourself breaking commitments often, stop making commitments that you will likely break. Learn why you do this, and fix it.
    
5. Rule: Being “flighty” is not an excuse.
   However, pragmatically, it is OK to break commitments with flighty people after they have personally demonstrated their flightiness to you. With these individuals, it’s OK to make other commitments provided you inform the third party of the situation. 
    
6. Rule: Don’t overcommit. Say No.
   Committing to everyone means committing to no one. It’s OK to say ‘no’, or ‘no for now’. 
     
7. Rule: Be Honest.
   Don’t lie. Though, there’s no obligation to speak the entire truth or offer information. 

Succinctly: Be Considerate.

More on this later. (And you can count on that.)

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*Don’t believe me? Visit your local card store or pharmacy and take notice of “regret” cards.