Whenever Susan and I attend Nanaimo Clippers or Nanaimo Timbermen (Snr. A) games, we like to do our little bit to financially support our local teams beyond paying to get in. We usually do this by purchasing 50/50 tickets, where 50% of the cost goes to the club and the other half to the prize pot. It's possible to win a few hundred bucks in this way, so it's worth a pop.
Last night we went to the Timbermen's opening home game of the season, versus the fearsome New Westminster Salmonbellies. It was a great game, ending in a 14-14 tie after overtime. As usual there were plenty of distractions in the form of prize draws and whatnot, both during play (which deeply irritates me) and in the two intervals. One promotion was the Domino's Cheesy Bread Toss, whereby boxes of hot cheesy bread from the local Domino's Pizza parlour were thrown into the crowd for no apparent reason other than to make them fat. It's reported that each slice of this stuff weighs in at 120 calories and a total of six grams of fat, so I'm amused at the paradox of this occurring at a sporting event featuring such incredibly fit athletes as professional lacrosse players.
But I digress. Despite the bucks we've thrown at 50/50 tickets at the games we've been to, Susan and I have never won a bean. Until last night! On the way in we'd bought a programme, each one of which bears a unique number on the cover. Ours was 110. When the lucky programme numbers were read out, we had won a prize, but the PA in Frank Crane Arena is so muffled that we didn't catch what it was.
Susan excitedly scurried off to the lobby to claim our booty, returning a few minutes later with a less than thrilled expression. We had won the awesome third prize of a $10 off voucher for Dog 'n' Suds U-Wash & Professional Pet Grooming, an establishment bang opposite Susan's workplace.
Fantastic, then, except for the fact that we do not own a dog. But a closer look reveals that the discount voucher could save against a "Self-serve Cat Wash" - and we do own a cat! Wait a minute, though...who reading has ever tried to wash a cat? I have. Once. A very long time ago. And not since. If you, too, have attempted this, how many stitches did it take to put your face back together? And how long did it take the surgeons to reattach your arms?
So, no, we will not be using this fabulous prize to take our cat for a wash, even if I would save ten dollars in the process. If I tried, he would rip out my heart, which isn't really how I'd wish to celebrate the first time we've won something. So then, essentially, unless we can offload it, all we have actually won is a useless, coloured piece of cardboard with some words on it. In this respect it's very nice, but as much use to us as a chocolate teapot.
Does anyone want it? Ten bucks and it's yours.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Lost in Translation
Down the many years I've worked in music retail I've had my fair share of chucklesome customer enquiries. One of my favourites was from a sweet old lady, presumably sent on an errand by a younger person. "Do you have any records by George Thoroughbred & the Disasters?" she asked, to my eternal amusement.
Such funny little episodes help the days go by.
In the Nanaimo music store I work part-time at we have quite a parade of oddball regulars coming in, some of whom I will undoubtedly blog about as and when. One of the more normal customers who pops in from time to time is a pleasant Mexican chap who usually arrives with a cassette containing a snippet of something he's recorded off the radio. As our listening station is a combined CD and cassette player we are able to listen to his excerpts, more often than not identifying the song, all well and good then digging out a corresponding CD to sell him.
A couple of days ago he was in again, but without a tape this time. Instead, he said simply, "Bruce Springsteen," and handed me a small piece of paper. Written on it, in a rather stylish hand, was this:
Come on me
Needless to say, at the very moment I read those three small, innocently delivered words, volcanic juvenile hilarity welled up in me. All I wanted to do was explode with laughter, and keeping it in really hurt. Until he'd left the store I of course had to control myself, somehow managing to serve him with the utmost professionalism, only to regularly dissolve into titters throughout the rest of the day, and many times since.
Although my knowledge of Springsteen's back catalogue is such that I was immediately able to correctly interpret his spectacularly misheard lyric - being "cover me" from the song of the same title on his Born in the U.S.A. album - I was hoping for dear life that it wasn't in fact an entirely separate request. That would not have been an ideal situation, especially as he wasn't really my type. Besides which, I'm not sure my wife would have been too enamoured to learn, when asking how my day at work went, that one transaction involved me emptying my scrotum over an unknown Mexican trucker.
Still, it would have helped the day go by.
Such funny little episodes help the days go by.
In the Nanaimo music store I work part-time at we have quite a parade of oddball regulars coming in, some of whom I will undoubtedly blog about as and when. One of the more normal customers who pops in from time to time is a pleasant Mexican chap who usually arrives with a cassette containing a snippet of something he's recorded off the radio. As our listening station is a combined CD and cassette player we are able to listen to his excerpts, more often than not identifying the song, all well and good then digging out a corresponding CD to sell him.
A couple of days ago he was in again, but without a tape this time. Instead, he said simply, "Bruce Springsteen," and handed me a small piece of paper. Written on it, in a rather stylish hand, was this:
Come on me
Needless to say, at the very moment I read those three small, innocently delivered words, volcanic juvenile hilarity welled up in me. All I wanted to do was explode with laughter, and keeping it in really hurt. Until he'd left the store I of course had to control myself, somehow managing to serve him with the utmost professionalism, only to regularly dissolve into titters throughout the rest of the day, and many times since.
Although my knowledge of Springsteen's back catalogue is such that I was immediately able to correctly interpret his spectacularly misheard lyric - being "cover me" from the song of the same title on his Born in the U.S.A. album - I was hoping for dear life that it wasn't in fact an entirely separate request. That would not have been an ideal situation, especially as he wasn't really my type. Besides which, I'm not sure my wife would have been too enamoured to learn, when asking how my day at work went, that one transaction involved me emptying my scrotum over an unknown Mexican trucker.
Still, it would have helped the day go by.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Larry and His Flask: They Came, They Rocked, They Conquered
You go to a gig with feverish anticipation for the headliners, unaware of who is opening the show. Or else you might know, but the name means nothing. Then the band takes to the stage and from the very first note your jaw drops. As a result, the course of your life changes.
This happens very rarely, or at least to me. I've attended thousands of gigs but can count on one hand how many times I've experienced this. It happened at the Biltmore in Vancouver in 2009 when an amazing set from Local Natives made Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros, themselves a fearsome live proposition, look like shoddy amateurs. And it happened at the old Concorde in Brighton in 1998, when Neutral Milk Hotel turned my world upside down in support of Sparklehorse. I could claim it also happened at the Buzzcocks show at Birmingham Odeon on October 24th, 1979, when I saw Joy Division, but the truth is I knew of them and their "thing" already. Nevertheless, they still blew the doors off in a manner that no band on earth could follow.
Last Saturday, it happened again. In a packed Media Club in Vancouver an up-for-it crowd convened to see the brilliant bluegrass band, Trampled by Turtles. But the opening band...oh my god! Ladies and gentlemen, meet Larry and His Flask:
This image, taken at the show, merely hints and the energy, power and intensity of the set delivered that night by this Portland, Oregon, 6-piece. From the opening few seconds they played with such ferocity and unbridled joy that they sucked the crowd right in, and kept them there. A hi-octane mix of bluegrass, punk rock, New Orleans R&B (resplendent with horns), glorious four-part harmonies and original songs that all sounded like instant classics to these ears, Larry and His Flask absolutely tore the roof off. They also did a couple of covers, their version of Marvin Gaye's What's Going On nearly killing me. The entire band threw themselves individually or collectively into the crowd at various points, especially double bass player and co-founder, Jesse Marshall:
I'm not sure what else to say, really. It was simply astonishing. In an interview with the band's drummer - Jesse's brother, Jamin - AMP Magazine opened their article by saying: There are just some bands that you have to see to believe. Larry and His Flask is one of those bands. I'd say that just about sums it up. If these guys come to play anywhere near you, drop all your plans and go see 'em for one of the most exciting live music experiences of your life.
Oh yeah, Trampled by Turtles were quite good too.
This happens very rarely, or at least to me. I've attended thousands of gigs but can count on one hand how many times I've experienced this. It happened at the Biltmore in Vancouver in 2009 when an amazing set from Local Natives made Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros, themselves a fearsome live proposition, look like shoddy amateurs. And it happened at the old Concorde in Brighton in 1998, when Neutral Milk Hotel turned my world upside down in support of Sparklehorse. I could claim it also happened at the Buzzcocks show at Birmingham Odeon on October 24th, 1979, when I saw Joy Division, but the truth is I knew of them and their "thing" already. Nevertheless, they still blew the doors off in a manner that no band on earth could follow.
Last Saturday, it happened again. In a packed Media Club in Vancouver an up-for-it crowd convened to see the brilliant bluegrass band, Trampled by Turtles. But the opening band...oh my god! Ladies and gentlemen, meet Larry and His Flask:
This image, taken at the show, merely hints and the energy, power and intensity of the set delivered that night by this Portland, Oregon, 6-piece. From the opening few seconds they played with such ferocity and unbridled joy that they sucked the crowd right in, and kept them there. A hi-octane mix of bluegrass, punk rock, New Orleans R&B (resplendent with horns), glorious four-part harmonies and original songs that all sounded like instant classics to these ears, Larry and His Flask absolutely tore the roof off. They also did a couple of covers, their version of Marvin Gaye's What's Going On nearly killing me. The entire band threw themselves individually or collectively into the crowd at various points, especially double bass player and co-founder, Jesse Marshall:
I'm not sure what else to say, really. It was simply astonishing. In an interview with the band's drummer - Jesse's brother, Jamin - AMP Magazine opened their article by saying: There are just some bands that you have to see to believe. Larry and His Flask is one of those bands. I'd say that just about sums it up. If these guys come to play anywhere near you, drop all your plans and go see 'em for one of the most exciting live music experiences of your life.
Oh yeah, Trampled by Turtles were quite good too.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
The Cost of Pomp
While not in the least bit surprised to hear him pipe up about it, I was amused to read Morrissey's comments about the inescapable impending nuptials of Prince William and (the admittedly rather foxy) Kate Middleton this morning. "Why would I watch the wedding? Why would I watch it?" he foams in exasperation.
You know, that could have been me talking. In fact, I can almost hear myself say it in my unmistakable Brummie-cum-Brightonian-cum-Nanaimoite twang-drawl-slur. Like The Moz, I am one of those who couldn't care less about this event. I am not and have never been a royalist, and would genuinely rather tune into a programme showing nothing but a cow's head chewing cud against a grey background for six hours than watch this wedding.
Without getting too deeply into it, especially my thoughts on monarchies in general (my Canadian citizenship application is still in motion, so I must be a good boy), I get rather concerned that people can happily lap up this event, clapping at the telly, whilst not for one moment considering such as the fact that the London security operation alone will cost British taxpayers in the region of twenty-two million quid ($33,000,000 CAD). If you bung in the cost of Ms. Middleton's dress, their honeymoon in Clacton-on-Sea and the vol-au-vents at the do afterwards, you'd be approaching a sum near the combined Third World debt. Not to put too fine a point on it, that is an absolute disgrace. Just think about the thousands of positive ways in which that sum could have been spent. Like on me, for instance.
I can't help but wonder what the couple themselves think about this? As presumably 'funky,' forward- and right-thinking, young 21st century citizens, surely this knowledge would considerably take the shine off their occasion? And it's not like they absolutely must get married in such an over-the-top manner, is it? Or must they? I blame his granny, myself.
My thoughts and what I vainly hope would be Will and Kate's are delightfully summed up by this hilarious claymation video from Joel Veitch of the completely mental, ridiculously funny rathergood.com website:
Anyway, aside from everything, on the most basic human level I wish the youngsters a good life together. As someone from a family riven by domestic violence, acrimonious divorce and bitter feuds, yet who has found utter joy in his own marriage (which, including Susan's dress, my suit, the rings and everything else, cost about two-hundred quid) I wish them well...even if their happy day only serves to bankrupt the country.
You know, that could have been me talking. In fact, I can almost hear myself say it in my unmistakable Brummie-cum-Brightonian-cum-Nanaimoite twang-drawl-slur. Like The Moz, I am one of those who couldn't care less about this event. I am not and have never been a royalist, and would genuinely rather tune into a programme showing nothing but a cow's head chewing cud against a grey background for six hours than watch this wedding.
Without getting too deeply into it, especially my thoughts on monarchies in general (my Canadian citizenship application is still in motion, so I must be a good boy), I get rather concerned that people can happily lap up this event, clapping at the telly, whilst not for one moment considering such as the fact that the London security operation alone will cost British taxpayers in the region of twenty-two million quid ($33,000,000 CAD). If you bung in the cost of Ms. Middleton's dress, their honeymoon in Clacton-on-Sea and the vol-au-vents at the do afterwards, you'd be approaching a sum near the combined Third World debt. Not to put too fine a point on it, that is an absolute disgrace. Just think about the thousands of positive ways in which that sum could have been spent. Like on me, for instance.
I can't help but wonder what the couple themselves think about this? As presumably 'funky,' forward- and right-thinking, young 21st century citizens, surely this knowledge would considerably take the shine off their occasion? And it's not like they absolutely must get married in such an over-the-top manner, is it? Or must they? I blame his granny, myself.
My thoughts and what I vainly hope would be Will and Kate's are delightfully summed up by this hilarious claymation video from Joel Veitch of the completely mental, ridiculously funny rathergood.com website:
Anyway, aside from everything, on the most basic human level I wish the youngsters a good life together. As someone from a family riven by domestic violence, acrimonious divorce and bitter feuds, yet who has found utter joy in his own marriage (which, including Susan's dress, my suit, the rings and everything else, cost about two-hundred quid) I wish them well...even if their happy day only serves to bankrupt the country.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Optimus Not-Very-Good
If there is anyone more curmudgeonly than me, it's Stuart Ashen. I just love the guy. Some of you may have seen his video reviews of crappy Christmas items that Susan and I sent out to our address books this last festive season. But if not, one of the things Ashen does, quite brilliantly, is offer his opinion on stuff that, for any given reason, he finds tacky, poorly made, or just plain ridiculous. However, as funny as his take may be, he is usually absolutely spot on in his assessment. Ashen's latest video is a truly classic example of this that had me rolling about in hysterics earlier today. I will say no more about it, instead imploring you to carve out eleven minutes from your day to watch this extremely amusing piece of film. Be warned that there is a tiny bit of profanity on two occasions, so you should probably consider this as NSFW and keep it from the ears of little ones and sensitive souls. Enjoy!
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Record Store Day: The Pros & Cons
So, there goes another Record Store Day.
Having spent the lion's share of my working life in various capacities within the music industry, including many years in independent retail, I will naturally applaud any initiative to place a spotlight on these institutions - if only for one day a year. But that it is needed at all breaks my heart.
Without going into all of the well documented reasons why it is happening, I still find it extraordinary - surreal, even - that the days are with us when bricks-and-mortar music retailers are disappearing from the planet faster than you can say "play that funky music, white boy." As someone for whom record stores have been second homes for over thirty-five years, it is nothing short of a cultural tragedy to me. It feels like one of my limbs is being slowly amputated, which kind of hurts a bit. Okay, a lot.
But whatever I might think, the disappearance of music stores continues apace, and that's just the way it is. And while Record Store Day may ultimately only delay the inevitable, it is at least a brave attempt to unite the independent music retailers of the world for a few hours, and remind the general populace that whatever they might have read or heard, while the quaint old concept may be on death's door, it is still breathing and putting up a fight. So to this end, Record Store Day is important and fantastic. If the publicity surrounding it brings more people out to doff their cap to the store(s) in their communities, throwing a few dollars their way, then it has to be worthwhile. As it stands, however, I believe it is greatly flawed.
What I sorely object to about the whole thing is the annual slew of limited edition releases issued for Record Store Day. They are of course intended to attract custom. Don't get me wrong, I think it's great that there is product released specifically to tie in with what should be considered a celebration of record stores, but the fact that pretty much all of it is limited in number to the degree of pointlessness really sticks in my craw. Yes, these items will ensure that, at least in some towns, line-ups will form at the record store doors at dawn, guaranteeing increased sales for that store - being partly the point - but, I'm talking to you, record labels - what about the fans?
I've been a huge fan of R.E.M. for twenty-eight years and pretty damned keen on the work of Nick Cave for over two decades. I've spent an unreasonable amount of cash down the years in pursuit of the musical pleasures these acts afford me, and an equally ridiculous amount of time nerdily obsessing over them. While it has been impossible to get my hands on every release or associated object of desire, I have remained loyal, buying every title as it was released.
Both acts were subject to Record Store Day releases, but when I read about them it was not excitement or anticipation I felt for the imminent snaffling of new goodies, but sheer frustration. When there are just a few hundred copies globally available, really, why bother? I know I will never see copies of these instantly rare items...at least unless I am prepared to shell out a ton of money to those non-fans at the record store doors at dawn, the bastards present not to celebrate the role of the record store in their community, but out for the sole purpose of making a buck. Lo and behold, looking at Ebay.ca today there are copies of R.E.M.'s Three vinyl box set selling for up to $125 and Nick Cave's band Grinderman's Evil 12"/CD pack for around $50. Those prices will certainly increase, as will the quantity of them on sale. Supply and demand, dear readers...
The thing is, working in our local indie store as I do, I witness firsthand how ridiculous this whole scenario is from our side of the counter. When presented with the list of scores of Record Store Day 2010 titles by our suppliers last year, we ordered a whole mess of them - probably fifty-plus titles in accordance with our demographic. I think we received eight or nine maximum for the day itself. Preposterously, a few more dribbled in during the weeks following the day, and even then all of them were the less attractive titles on offer. No sign of any of the hot stuff. This year, also, we received just a handful, and were unable to inform customers in advance of what we would get, if anything at all, having no idea what the hell would show up. What sort of scenario is that? Record Store Day 2011 ended up being just another Saturday for us. I don't believe this has much to do with the Canadian distribution system, more that there are simply way too few to go round, so - just as it has always been in this business - what there is available will go to the most "important" accounts.
Way to go to "celebrate" record stores. Way to go to look after the fans. Record labels, consider the word "demand," then the word "supply," okay? Work with the founders of Record Store Day towards a solution that will please everyone, as it can only serve to prolong the life of the record store, you see? While the day itself is ever more crucial, the whole concept of the limited edition releases sucks. It must be drastically rethought, so everyone can get a piece of the pie if they want it, thereby genuinely enjoying their local record store and consequently feeling likely to support it in the future. It is not rocket science. All this current set up does is breed resentment, and it's a certainty that all such a negative emotion is going to achieve is help drive another nail in the record store's coffin.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
A Solid Fifteen Minutes
On the Monday following the Japanese earthquake and tsunami I had a mercifully brief exchange with a guy who shops regularly at the Nanaimo music store I work at part-time. He's not really the brightest fellow, and did reveal once he was a crack addict for fourteen years, but I've always found him personable enough. On my bus that day, however, after saying good morning to me when boarding at his usual stop, our encounter unfolded like this:
"What about all that in Japan, eh?"
"Yes, it's awful, a terrible tragedy," said I.
"At least they've got the problems, and not us," he responded.
"Er, what? Eh?" I answered, incredulous, genuinely believing I had either spectacularly misheard him, or had entered some alternate universe moments before he said it.
"I really hope we (meaning Canada) don't send a bunch of money and troops and stuff, as they would never help us if it happened here," he said. Passengers then started to look around at him with frowns and genuine anger in their expressions, but no one spoke. He was oblivious, of course.
Beyond wishing to rid the world of this moron by lethal injection at that very moment, I hardly knew what to do or say in response. I blathered something about the world community always needing to rally around any nation in distress, then had to jump up to get off the bus and head for work. I couldn't stop thinking about his remarkable outburst all day.
Anyway, on a similar theme, the mighty satirical publication, The Onion, today included a quite fantastic piece in their weekly emailout that I simply had to share alongside my own personal episode:
EARTH—Following the recent earthquake and tsunami that tragically took the lives of an estimated 20,000 Japanese citizens, the planet Earth was afforded a good 15 minutes during which its inhabitants behaved like actual human beings, sources reported.
In the quarter-hour that followed news of the massive natural disaster obliterating entire towns and killing or injuring thousands of innocent men, women, and children, social scientists around the globe reported rare—and in many cases unprecedented—occurrences of individuals feeling genuine empathy for their fellow humans, recognizing the evanescence of life, and experiencing a deep sense of awe and humility toward the overwhelming power of nature.
After the 900 seconds had passed, however, this behavior reportedly ceased. "Though its duration was incredibly brief, in this span of time the entire human race was able to temporarily forget all its petty political interests, narcissism, greed, and ironic detachment for a few moments and behave like real people with compassion and respect," social scientist Dr. Robert Westbrook said of the short-lived burst of basic decency. "There is no evidence of any significant bickering, lying, preening, or self-involvement during this period. In fact, it appears that all 6.7 billion human beings simply stopped for one quarter of an hour, became filled with genuine emotion, and said, 'Oh, no, those poor people,' while keeping their baser instincts in check."
"That they instantly went back to being needy, solipsistic whiners does not change the fact that, for a fleeting moment, the world was a wholly humane and gentle place," Westbrook added.
According to experts, immediately after the 15 minutes were over, the vast majority of the Earth's people seemed to move on from the harrowing, incomprehensibly tragic event, and have spent the subsequent time attempting to get ahead in their careers, ignoring the plight of those desperately in need, thinking solely of themselves, and acting how they generally act at all times throughout their lives.
A sizable number of human beings around the planet were reportedly able to negate the sympathy and goodwill they had just exhibited toward Japan by moments later getting into an uninformed argument about the efficacy of nuclear power, making a crude Godzilla-related joke on their Twitter or Facebook page, or telling themselves they didn't even know these people so it wasn't really worth getting too upset about.
"In those 15 minutes, the thought of making light of the events in Japan did not even cross a single human being's mind, yet evidence shows this restraint expired sometime between the 15:00 and 15:01 mark, when certain segments of the population began to speculate that the disaster was somehow 'payback' for Pearl Harbor," said sociologist Karen Perkins, adding that within seconds deep heartache and grief quickly segued into trivial and barely related political debates. "By the 15:30 mark, millions had told themselves that the Japanese were a somewhat robotic and unemotional people who would recover just fine; by the 15:50 mark, 1.8 billion people were already thinking about lunch; and by the 16:15 mark, all but 0.8 percent of the world had moved on completely."
According to Perkins, the exceedingly rare occurrence of the human race simultaneously feeling a moment of tenderness and selfless concern for others only has a handful of modern precedents: Similar behavior occurred for 22 minutes following the 2010 Haiti earthquake, for six minutes following the 2004 tsunami in Indonesia, and for slightly under four seconds after news first broke of the trapped Chilean miners last year.
Experts calculated that in order for everyone on Earth to act like a good person for 30 minutes, 1,000,000 human beings would have to die in a volcanic eruption or flood. For an hour of worldwide charity and altruism to take place, statistics suggested that an entire ethnic group would have to be genocidally murdered in a single afternoon on live television.
In order for people to be decent and caring for an entire day, there reportedly would have to be only 12 survivors left on the planet, though by the next morning they would likely begin arguing, slandering, and killing each other for resources.
"We should be encouraged by the fact that the world was able to come together like this at all," Perkins said. "Even though, in the end, it only lasted a few minutes longer than it takes for the average person to shower."
Still, a minority of scientists disagreed with the conclusions drawn by their colleagues. "Frankly, I reject this notion that it takes tragic events like [the earthquake] for the people of Earth to act like real human beings for once," MIT sociology professor Samuel Lark told reporters. "After all, most modern research suggests that acting like a callous, unfeeling, vain prick is exactly what being a human being is.
"What about all that in Japan, eh?"
"Yes, it's awful, a terrible tragedy," said I.
"At least they've got the problems, and not us," he responded.
"Er, what? Eh?" I answered, incredulous, genuinely believing I had either spectacularly misheard him, or had entered some alternate universe moments before he said it.
"I really hope we (meaning Canada) don't send a bunch of money and troops and stuff, as they would never help us if it happened here," he said. Passengers then started to look around at him with frowns and genuine anger in their expressions, but no one spoke. He was oblivious, of course.
Beyond wishing to rid the world of this moron by lethal injection at that very moment, I hardly knew what to do or say in response. I blathered something about the world community always needing to rally around any nation in distress, then had to jump up to get off the bus and head for work. I couldn't stop thinking about his remarkable outburst all day.
Anyway, on a similar theme, the mighty satirical publication, The Onion, today included a quite fantastic piece in their weekly emailout that I simply had to share alongside my own personal episode:
EARTH—Following the recent earthquake and tsunami that tragically took the lives of an estimated 20,000 Japanese citizens, the planet Earth was afforded a good 15 minutes during which its inhabitants behaved like actual human beings, sources reported.
In the quarter-hour that followed news of the massive natural disaster obliterating entire towns and killing or injuring thousands of innocent men, women, and children, social scientists around the globe reported rare—and in many cases unprecedented—occurrences of individuals feeling genuine empathy for their fellow humans, recognizing the evanescence of life, and experiencing a deep sense of awe and humility toward the overwhelming power of nature.
After the 900 seconds had passed, however, this behavior reportedly ceased. "Though its duration was incredibly brief, in this span of time the entire human race was able to temporarily forget all its petty political interests, narcissism, greed, and ironic detachment for a few moments and behave like real people with compassion and respect," social scientist Dr. Robert Westbrook said of the short-lived burst of basic decency. "There is no evidence of any significant bickering, lying, preening, or self-involvement during this period. In fact, it appears that all 6.7 billion human beings simply stopped for one quarter of an hour, became filled with genuine emotion, and said, 'Oh, no, those poor people,' while keeping their baser instincts in check."
"That they instantly went back to being needy, solipsistic whiners does not change the fact that, for a fleeting moment, the world was a wholly humane and gentle place," Westbrook added.
According to experts, immediately after the 15 minutes were over, the vast majority of the Earth's people seemed to move on from the harrowing, incomprehensibly tragic event, and have spent the subsequent time attempting to get ahead in their careers, ignoring the plight of those desperately in need, thinking solely of themselves, and acting how they generally act at all times throughout their lives.
A sizable number of human beings around the planet were reportedly able to negate the sympathy and goodwill they had just exhibited toward Japan by moments later getting into an uninformed argument about the efficacy of nuclear power, making a crude Godzilla-related joke on their Twitter or Facebook page, or telling themselves they didn't even know these people so it wasn't really worth getting too upset about.
"In those 15 minutes, the thought of making light of the events in Japan did not even cross a single human being's mind, yet evidence shows this restraint expired sometime between the 15:00 and 15:01 mark, when certain segments of the population began to speculate that the disaster was somehow 'payback' for Pearl Harbor," said sociologist Karen Perkins, adding that within seconds deep heartache and grief quickly segued into trivial and barely related political debates. "By the 15:30 mark, millions had told themselves that the Japanese were a somewhat robotic and unemotional people who would recover just fine; by the 15:50 mark, 1.8 billion people were already thinking about lunch; and by the 16:15 mark, all but 0.8 percent of the world had moved on completely."
According to Perkins, the exceedingly rare occurrence of the human race simultaneously feeling a moment of tenderness and selfless concern for others only has a handful of modern precedents: Similar behavior occurred for 22 minutes following the 2010 Haiti earthquake, for six minutes following the 2004 tsunami in Indonesia, and for slightly under four seconds after news first broke of the trapped Chilean miners last year.
Experts calculated that in order for everyone on Earth to act like a good person for 30 minutes, 1,000,000 human beings would have to die in a volcanic eruption or flood. For an hour of worldwide charity and altruism to take place, statistics suggested that an entire ethnic group would have to be genocidally murdered in a single afternoon on live television.
In order for people to be decent and caring for an entire day, there reportedly would have to be only 12 survivors left on the planet, though by the next morning they would likely begin arguing, slandering, and killing each other for resources.
"We should be encouraged by the fact that the world was able to come together like this at all," Perkins said. "Even though, in the end, it only lasted a few minutes longer than it takes for the average person to shower."
Still, a minority of scientists disagreed with the conclusions drawn by their colleagues. "Frankly, I reject this notion that it takes tragic events like [the earthquake] for the people of Earth to act like real human beings for once," MIT sociology professor Samuel Lark told reporters. "After all, most modern research suggests that acting like a callous, unfeeling, vain prick is exactly what being a human being is.
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