johnmaconline

I heard the song Paranoid in my grocery store a few days ago.

Paranoid.

Not the Musak version, or some adult-contemporary cover, or some otherwise softened homage. The raw 1970 version from the Black Sabbath album of the same name, complete with Ozzy’s whining and Iommi’s ripping riff (one of the best ever).

Are you f’n kidding me? What has happened to this world I live in? Paranoid in the grocery store? Shouldn’t there be a line at customer service of irate mothers and other do-gooders aghast at the filth they and their children are being audibly exposed to? This world is going to hell.

This is my music. Always has been. I’m a metal lover. Part of why I love it is because of its taboo-ness. It’s rough, energetic, irreverent, and abrasive. It’s heavy metal. My metal.

How dare they appropriate my music by assuming it’s fit for the general public’s consumption.

And then I remember. I’m no longer a teenager. The same is true for all generations and their music. It happened to big band, jazz, blues, rock, rap. All of it.

Eventually, the cutting-edge, abrasive, young-person-focused, and culturally taboo becomes…the norm. Even fit for the grocery store aisles. My music, once a source of pride in how I distinguished myself from the norm, has become a cultural nonfactor. Accepted even.

Get off my lawn!

I’d much rather watch any football game on TV than in person. But one time, you should stand in Beaver Stadium at the whiteout game as the Blue Band and crowd crescendo while the team exits the tunnel to take the field. I literally get teary. I can’t help it.

I’d seen a million pictures of the Great Wall. But then I stood on it myself. Only then could I even begin to comprehend the scope, engineering marvel, and beauty of it all. It’s mesmerizing.

I’d read some very interesting articles and seen pictures of the crater on top of Mt Haleakala on Maui. The rarified air, the odd, muffled sound sensation, and mars-like landscape. But then I walked down into the strange and beautiful landscape on my own two legs. I was breathless.

Technology is great. But sometimes you just gotta be there.

Americans now owe just north of $1 trillion in credit card debt. The average credit card interest rate is 27.8%, while the average that people are paying on carried balances is 22.8%.

Americans owe about $12 trillion in mortgage debt. The average current mortgage rate (traditional mortgage) is 8%. The average APR across all mortgage debt is 5.7%.

22.8% vs 5.7%. Heck, even 22.8% vs 8%. 

I’ve been buried at the bottom of the mountain. I know what it feels like.

A few things go the wrong way or make a bad decision, and within a few short months, the credit card debt piles up. Once you’re buried, it’s a seemingly impossible mountain to climb.

Stress. Inadequate and unworthy. Less than.

I’m no f’nance bro, but I gotta think there’s a business opportunity for a credit card offering an APR much closer to the mortgage APR. Yeah, I get it — credit cards have legitimately higher expenses to manage, and they are providing credit at a higher risk to themselves, but there’s gotta be an opportunity to move 22.8% closer to 8%. 

It will take creativity, insight, grit, and someone who cares. Doesn’t it always start with someone who cares?

In the meantime, here’s a great service to consider if you find yourself buried at the bottom of the debt mountain. 

At one time, there was Russian River’s Pliny the Younger in Santa Rosa if you liked the West Coast style IPA and The Alchemist’s Heady Topper in Stowe if you preferred the New England style. 

At one time, there was Joe’s Pizza in Washington Square Park if you liked New York style or the original Pizzeria Uno at Wabash and Ohio if you preferred Chicago style. 

At one time, there was Pat’s at 9th and Passyunk if you wanted a chopped steak Whiz Wit or Geno’s, also at 9th and Passyunk if you wanted a sliced steak Provologne Without.

Those were romantic times. The times when, to get the best, you had to travel to the place. The one and only place. Going there and eating or drinking the thing meant something. 

Nowadays, you can get almost as good, or even better, right down the street. Any street in just about any town. Honestly, your local joint can brew an IPA, toss a pizza, or fry up a cheesesteak that’s almost as good or even better than any of the original “bests.” Plus, now there’s goldbelly.com. 

That’s good for our taste buds but worse for our souls. 

Is it someone who has been “born again?” What does that mean?

Must you believe in the inerrancy of the Bible? Does inerrancy require the seven days of Genesis, the serpent in the garden, Noah’s Ark, Jonah’s whale, the tribulation of Job, and an immaculate conception? Must the earth be around 5000 years old?

If not literal inerrancy, must you believe that the Bible was divinely inspired?

What does it mean to take Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior? Must you walk to the front of a room, declare, and have hands laid on you? Can you do it on your deathbed or death row?

Must you be baptized? What if you’ve never had communion?

Is it someone to whom God speaks? What does it feel like to have God speak to you?

Must you believe in Satan as a being? What about hell as a place? What about heaven?

Is it someone who attends worship services every Sunday? What about Wednesday night services or Saturday mass? Must you receive ashes on your forehead on the first Wednesday of Lent?

Must you subscribe to a particular political view? Were any Nazi’s Christians? What about slave owners? Murderers? Tax evaders?

What if you’ve never donated a dollar to a church, another person, or an organization? What if you’ve never volunteered for a soup kitchen? What if you’ve never stopped to help someone else on the side of the road?

Who is a Christian?

Speed kills.
Haste makes waste.
Slow and steady wins the race.

But also,

First wins.
Success loves speed.
First to market, first to make an impact.

What’s the proper speed?

Regardless of how fast you are going, don’t forget to look around.

In the winter of 2003, when I was working with Apple on the iPod, I had a meeting at 2 pm in Cupertino.

I left my house at 2:30 am in the middle of a snowstorm to get to the Philly airport for an early morning flight. In normal conditions, it takes me an hour and fifteen minutes to travel from my house to the offsite parking lot I use. This morning took almost three hours. I jumped in the shuttle as the snow had already obscured my just-parked car’s roof and front windshield. 

Flying west for six hours, I watched the ground transform from the white Northeast to the patchwork green and brown of the plains, over the snow-capped Rockies, and back to the verdant San Francisco coast. I walked through the garage to the rental car pickup, feeling the mid-50s temperature around me as the morning fog lifted. As I drove the 45 minutes on the 101 south from the airport to Cupertino, I watched the temperature gauge rise to 75 as the mid-day sun beamed fully overhead. 

I met my colleague for lunch in Cupertino, and we sat outside. After lunch, we walked over to DeAnza 8 for the 2 pm meeting. A gorgeous day. 

For the next four hours, the iPod engineering team raked me over the coals, chewed me up, and spit me out. I white-knuckled it but emerged on the other side. 

Now a mental dishrag, I jumped in the car and drove to the closer San Jose airport for my trip home on the 10 pm red-eye. First stop — Vegas. I didn’t have to change planes, but we were taking on more passengers. It’s now the middle of the night. I’d never been to Vegas, so I hopped off the plane, ran down the gate hallway, and picked the first slot machine I found. Dropped my $5 in, pulled the lever, and promptly lost my $5. 

Flying overnight, I managed zero sleep in my window seat. We landed in Philly at around 6 am with the sun not yet peeking over the winter horizon. In zombie mode, I made my way through the airport maze to the shuttle pickup. Luckily, no bags except my backpack with my laptop. The shuttle deposited me next to my car in the lot as the rising sun made it just dusky enough to see without lights. 

Eight inches of snow buried my car. I grabbed the brush and small snow shovel from my trunk and spent the next 15 minutes digging it out. I drove home in the middle of the morning rush hour complicated by the weather. Another three-hour journey.

That was quite a 32 hours. Made possible only through the speed of modern technologies. Walking, driving, and flying my way across the country and back, as well as through all of the seasons and back. Even dropped a fiver in a slot machine in Vegas along the way. 

Speed is a perspective flipper. 

When trying to understand another’s perspective, you should ask yourself, “How fast are they going?”

“Have you ever noticed that anybody driving slower than you is an idiot, and anyone going faster than you is a maniac?” 

– George Carlin

I couldn’t agree more.

More than one passenger in my car has heard me exclaim, “Do you believe this idiot? Doesn’t he have anywhere to be?” Or, “Look at that maniac! He’s gonna kill someone!”

But its not really about the other driver’s speed. It’s about your speed. Specifically, the speed you want to travel. Your own speed probably changes with context, familiarity, and time.

Whether you’re driving down the road, working on a relationship, navigating a career, writing a book, or affecting change in the world, you want to move at your own speed. 

Everybody else is either an idiot or a maniac.