Prince George of Cambridge: A Media Doll

royalsUnless you and your pals have just spent the last nine months contemplating the darkest rings of Uranus, you realize the world has a new celebrity, Prince George of Cambridge.  At this writing, he’s still trending somewhere in the stratosphere of ’08 Obama numbers — literally billions of people have stopped whatever they were doing to take a look at the little guy.  Rihanna and Chris Brown can only dream about this kind of coverage and even Kanye Kardashian’s Instagrams of Kim’s North West passage didn’t generate numbers like these.  The babe who will be king will now remain in the media’s spotlight for the rest of his life, his destiny shaped by his grandmother, Princess Diana, arguably our planet’s first World Celebrity.  I’m not going to go into the wherefores and the whys of Princess Di (I have a low threshold of death threats) except to say that the camera loved grandma so much that poor George doesn’t stand a chance.  Good on ya kid, welcome to the fishbowl.

Even the most rabid royal haters have to admit that, in the Age of Entertainment, being born to the purple is not what it used to be.  Back in the day, before Di was shy, royals commanded a little respect.  In the 30s, for example, Edward VIII’s indiscretions with Wallis Simpson (which were considerable) were not public knowledge, or even a matter for media speculation, until Edward himself threw the monarchy under the bus for the woman he loved.  Likewise, Princess Margaret, the Queen’s sister, was not above getting down and dirty with young men barely old enough to know better.  These lapses in protocol were common knowledge on Fleet Street but never made it past the editor’s desk.

These days, however, it’s open season on anybody with even a drop of blue blood in their veins.  The Slime from the Check-out Line magazines are oozing with salacious pics of any number of in-name-only aristocrats who are so far removed from the monarchy they need a GPS to find Buck House.  Anyone any closer to the Crown Jewels gets the Full Monty media treatment, complete with round the clock telephoto lens.  George’s uncle Harry, for example, has his own phalanx of 24/7 watchers whose only purpose on earth is to digitize the boy’s every move just in case he gets into the tequila again and goes commando.  Honestly, if I were Prince Henry of Wales, I’d be suing Clark County, Nevada for false advertising.  “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas?”  Don’t make me laugh!

There are those who would argue that being royal is a public job with plenty of perks so they need to suck it up.  However,The Duke And Duchess Of Cambridge Leave The Lindo Wing With Their Newborn Son let me put that into perspective.  Unlike Lindsay Lohan and the League of Extraordinary Bimbos, William, Kate, Harry and company do not actively seek the media’s attention, nor can they walk away from it.  They are politically obligated to make themselves available.  They cannot whore photo opportunities of their child to the highest bidder a la Brad and Angelina Jolie nor stand down and refuse to participate.  George is going to be on the cover of People, like it or not, because he’s news, not because mom and dad need the publicity.  William and Kate have already sucked it up by showing up, babe in arms, on the steps of the hospital.  They’ve fulfilled their end of the bargain.  The problem is the media, lawless barbarians that they are, will not adhere to theirs.

I’m not so naive as to think that this brand new Prince of Cambridge’s life will be his own.  His obligations to the United Kingdom and the world began when he was born and they will be documented, with or without his permission.  (BTW, would you put up with that?)  However, it frightens me that our cultural cult of celebrity somehow equates baby George’s symbolic contribution to the continuity of our society with Miley Ray Cyrus’ new hair style.  They’re different and they need to be treated differently.  George Alexander Louis Windsor will be remembered by history, if, for no other reason than he exists whereas the former Hannah Montana won’t make it past Disney’s Hall of Fame.

Tuesday: The Real Purpose of the Monarchy

Detroit: Big Problem/Simple Solution

detroit1Detroit is broke — or maybe not, depending on what the courts say.  Either way, when you owe north of 15 billion dollars and your tax base is shrinking faster than the Donner party, legal opinions are not that relevant.  Like it or not — you’re broke.  This isn’t the first time a big city has gone under, but the interesting thing about Detroit is nobody seems all that concerned about it.  Damage Control is priority #2 right now, with Blame Allocation taking the top spot.  All over the country (and the world) journalists are acting like the high school kids they really are and airing their study hall “ain’t it awful” gossip across the media, sliced and spiced with equal parts of juvenile smirk, and “it could happen here.”  They’re kicking each other out of the way to get at the root cause of this Motor City Madness in 750 words or less and spinning it into everything from racial demographics to Henry Ford was a capitalist.  Strangely enough, though, nobody’s bothered to under-think the problem and come up with a viable solution to Detroit’s dilemma – until now.

Everybody knows that urban centres (remember when we use to call them “cities?”) are incubators for thousands of professional politicos who make their bones (sometimes literally) in civic committees and city council meetings.  These on-the-job trainees sometimes go on to bigger and better things, but normally they “Peter Principle” out and either get indicted or eventually just retire.  By way of documentation, of all the mayors, in all the cities, in the entire history of America, only Cleveland and Coolidge ever went on to become president.  Just sayin’.  Unfortunately, the demands for sound judgement put on these less than mediocre managers are usually more than they can bear.  What ends up happening is they try and do too much with too little and find themselves behind the fiscal eight ball a day late and more than a dollar short (to mix my clichés.)  To be fair, the folks who run our cities are given tons of responsibilities, not very much authority and never enough cash, so, for the most part, even the ones who are working flat out haven’t got an even chance.

I don’t know much about Mayor Bing, but Detroit is typical of this phenomenon.  However, there’s more, and it’s got nothing todetroit do with him or his predeceasers.  In the late 40s and early 50s, American cities crashed headlong into cultural change.  The result was massive internal injuries which were not treated at the time.  Basically, the middleclass automobile moved families out of the urban into the sub-urban.  Without the middle class to support them, shops, theatres, restaurants etc. closed, the tax base disappeared and whole urban neighbourhoods began to deteriorate.  Meanwhile, the new suburbanites needed more and bigger roads to get them back into the cities to work every day.  These expressways, built in the 50s and 60s, ignored natural neighbourhood boundaries (look at any map) and cut most cities to pieces.  Under the overpasses, the neighbourhoods deteriorated even further.  By the mid 70s, the middle class had vanished from the big cities, taking their tax dollars with them, and urban America was on Life Support.

The civic politicos, underachievers that they are, decided the solution to the problem was to throw money at it.  They did this — beyond anybody’s wildest expectations.  However, they made two fundamental mistakes.  One, they didn’t use any of the money they were pouring into the neighbourhoods to try and repatriate the middle class.  Thus, the problem remained, teetering on disaster, but now dependent on regular infusions of cash.  And two, the money wasn’t theirs; they’d borrowed it against a future tax base that didn’t exist.

The vicious circle of urban flight combined with financial sleight of hand worthy of Charles Ponzi, and the rest is Detroit history.

So now that we know where the swamp came from, maybe it’s time to kill a few alligators.

Don’t be over awed by the magnitude of Detroit’s debauch.  Like all things economic, the solution to this, and every other city’s financial problem, is quite simple.  Quit spending so damn much money!  Nobody — I repeat nobody — from the homeless guy on Eight Mile to Elena Ford — has ever borrowed themselves out of debt.  Here’s a tip: spend the money you have, not the money you wish you had.  What a novel idea, right?  However, sure as Michael Moore makes movies, unless Detroit and a few other places start taking this radical approach they’re going to go broke again in less than a generation — “financial creativity” be damned.

Test Driving Our Instinct for Connections

faceOne of the cool things about being a writer is, aside from the occasional drink-‘til-ya-drop tequila binge, you generally go to sleep smarter than when you woke up.  You’re constantly finding and filing away facts, like an information squirrel worried about winter.  For example, I know that Birmingham, England has a larger canal system than Venice, Italy, there are actually five different versions of David’s painting, Bonaparte Crossing the Alps and China is scheduled to take over the world sometime in 2028.  This kinda stuff doesn’t come up all that often in casual conversation, but it definitely keeps most conversations casual.  After all, when you’re the Wyatt Earp of useless information, you don’t get a lot of people calling you out on it.  That’s the other reason why writing is such a lonely profession.  People tend to think you’re a pompous ass.  But I digress.  The cool part of having tons of off-the-top-of-your-head trivia at your disposal is that you get a leg up on analysis that most people don’t have.  You can see the connections between ideas before other folks even get their Google warmed up.  Let me show you how it works.

Remember when you were a kid and, face up to the sky, you actually spent some time looking at the clouds?  You didn’t see nimbus or cumulus (unless you were terminally nerdy) you saw sheep and surfers and an old guy with a pipe.  This is because our minds are hardwired into detecting images (especially faces) long before our conscious brains have accumulated enough information to make a judgement call.  Essentially, we see things before we actually see them by instantly reducing any image to it basic components.  This phenomenon comes from a time before time when humans were not even close to the top of the food chain.  As a species, we needed to recognize the things that were going to eat us — with enough time left over to run like hell for the trees.  In evolutionary terms, our ancestors who were good at this became our ancestors; everybody else ended up digested on the savannah floor.

Move the calendar forward half a million years, we still see faces in inanimate objects, but the only time we actually use this instinctual skill is to face2generate religious revivals from tortillas or buy into paranormal swindles.  After all, it’s been a lot of years since our species was threatened by hairy beasts.  However, in the 21st century, the predator of choice is information.  In order to thrive, if not survive, we need to recognize essential information out of the info-flood we’re soaking up every minute of every day.  Since no one has the waking hours to analyze every piece of data that arrives, hat in hand, to our conscious mind, we do this by connecting new information to the knowledge we already have.  A very simple example is when we see a truck drive up and park in front of our house, we immediately determine what kind of a truck it is (fire, garbage, FedEx) and take appropriate action.  If we don’t recognize it, we file it and get on.  Thus, the more information we have, the greater our ability to test drive the new stuff when it arrives.

As a writer, I get to test drive tons more information that most people — it comes with the territory.  And the thing that’s really cool is, like cloud watching, it’s a never ending process.  One shape morphs into another and another and another.  Think of it this way: what started off as an Internet search for “pareidolia” (you need to Google this, BTW) ended up, somewhere after midnight, at a YouTube video on how to fold t-shirts.  Now, how cool is that?