I accompanied my sister on a very brief road trip to Pittsburgh this past weekend. My role was as human german shepherd/chauffeur while Sister-girl attended a conference. This was my first time setting foot in Pittsburgh in nearly 20 years.

My family lived in Pittsburgh from (I think) 1979 to 1988. (Sister-girl actually lived there a bit longer while attending the University of Pittsburgh. I can't remember exactly what year she graduated.) I managed to live there for about 18 months -- from August of '84 to April of '86 -- although it seemed like an eternity at the time. Before then, the longest I had stayed was the summer between my sophomore and junior years in college. That summer was a heady experience. I fell into a clique of (mostly) Black college students also home for the summer. It didn't take me long to get my bearings and adjust to the social scene.

The family had moved to Pittsburgh just as the region's economy was bottoming out. By the time I moved there in the late Summer of '84, I discovered a pallor had come to settle over the city just like one of those sooty clouds from the old steel mills would hover over the skyline. The friends I had made from two summers earlier were still in school; even Sister-girl was back in D.C. @ Howard. Nevertheless, I thought of myself as a full-fledged adult ready to put away childish things (like barhopping and cavorting) for the Real World. A new social life can be built from scratch, I thought.

That Fall of '84 was my first exposure to White Folks in Poverty on a large scale. I'm talking about people who, with their parents and older siblings, had earned hard-fought middle-class lifestyles working in the mills and plants of western Pennsylvania, only to find themselves
suddenly displaced by the invisible hands of laissez-faire capitalism and Reaganomics. Yet despite my perception of a generally frustrated population, it was Pittsburgh where I learned to see people outside of the 'normal' group caricatures we're taught to rely on. Where you'd believe a well-deserved siege mentality would have taken root, the average Pittsburgher I met 'zipped up their grown-up suit' to go about the task of living. Not 'getting over'; not 'getting paid', but living... making the best of one's situation. So you've worked 50 hours this week and haven't made your 'draw' ($5.15/hour in my case), Joe College? Neither did I. Matriculate yourself over to [fill in your neighborhood bar of choice here] tomorrow night for the Steelers/Pirates/Penguins game, hot wings, and brew. Nobody begrudged anybody for taking their shot, but failing. Pittsburgh people -- at least the ones I met -- were optimists. They wanted to believe.

So it was during those days of the early-to-mid 80s when Pittsburgh's leaders announced they would rescue the city from its economic plight by reinventing it as a hub of high technology. I was never clear on what exactly they had in mind, outside of funneling research money into Pitt and Carnegie-Mellon University. Pittsburgh had no telecom, commercial, or computer/
IT sector to speak of at that time for recruiting people into, excluding jobs in marketing or operations/tech support with PPG, Gulf/Chevron (who left Pittsburgh), Westinghouse, Mellon Bank, US Steel, Heinz, or one of the other major corporations in the area. Like many industrialized cities, Pittsburgh's economy was heavily concentrated in one area: manufacturing. That sector was outsourced to foreign countries as dictated by freeper economics. I don't remember seeing much thought or energy focused on persuading the tech giants of that era -- IBM, AT&T, Xerox, etc. -- to set up R&D departments in the region, or creating an infrastructure for luring tech-savvy entrepreneurs and investment capital, a la Silicon Valley and Northern Virginia. But the PR campaign was revved up anyway to seduce all these white collar future technocrats to the Steel City. I think the rationale was if enough Yuppies relocated to Pittsburgh, their demand for concierge services, fine arts, expensive foreign cars, and bistros would be so strong, all the workers displaced by the manufacturing sector's shut down would be absorbed by this new 'service-based' economy.

When I rolled out in '86, the plan hadn't 'took' yet.

Naturally, Pittsburgh's would-be economic revival was on my mind as Sister-girl and I approached the city. We talked about it a bit; I had read a magazine article lauding Pittsburgh for making great strides in cleaning up the air and overhauling the economy in a way that is condusive to a vibrant service-based economy. Sure enough, when we arrived Dahntahn
at our hotel , signs of a city with their economic accelerator matted to the floor were all around: two spanking new professional sports stadiums, an enormous convention center, new museums underwritten by Heinz and Carnegie, respectively, and an overall boom in commercial and residential real estate development. Neither of us recognized the Strip District, which had been transformed from blocks upon blocks of grungy warehouses into trendy bars, nightclubs, eateries, and art galleries. In fact, the Hampton Inn where we were staying was a recent build as well. As if all of that wasn't enough, the weather was p-e-r-f-e-c-t; the sun was shining (a rarity in Pittsburgh) and the temperature was a... uh... balmy (?) 65-70 degrees. No PR hack could have created a more perfect image.

We dropped off our gear and decided to head back to our old neighborhood and see just how far the economic development had spread. We drove up Penn Avenue toward Bloomfield and took note of the homes that had been conspicuously made over in the HGTV tradition. Tres Yuppie, no? As we neared Penn Hospital, I was looking for a street I used to take from our parents' house -- a backdoor route -- from Stanton Heights to Penn Avenue in Bloomfield. I think the street I was looking for no longer exists, having been absorbed by a larger Penn Hospital. So we continued driving eastward into Bloomfield.

When I left in '86, Bloomfield was what I'd term, 'ghetto lite'. It was a predominantly Black, low-income working-class neighborhood. I became friends with one guy who lived in Bloomfield, a character named Wayne Moody who aspired to be a stand-up comedian. I can't think of too many stops I otherwise made in Bloomfield than KFC, the Texaco station on Negley Avenue, or Eat-n-Park. Anyway... I guess you could consider Bloomfield kind of rough, but it didn't phase me one way or the other. Fast forwarding 20 years, however, hasn't been kind to Bloomfield. There were too many boarded up houses to count. Numerous other houses with people living in them were in various stages of disrepair. And as my sister remarked, the people standing around were some of the hardest looking folks I'd ever seen. It was almost as if we were driving through a set for The Wire.

I ad-libbed my way to Aiken Avenue, which I remembered would take us to Black Street (no pun intended) and Stanton Heights. The public housing that was on one side of Black Street has been leveled. A new apartment complex has been built right across the street in what used to be the world's largest shopping center with nothing in it -- Sister-girl believed it to be the new public housing. We turned up the road toward our parents' old house. Now... when the 'rents moved in there, Stanton Heights was one of the more exclusive predominantly Black neighborhoods. All the neighbors were professionals of one type or another -- teachers, attorneys, executives, etc.. Judging by the modest deterioration of the houses, I'd say the demographics have deteriorated since Ma & Pa lived there. My parents frequently wax nostalgic about that house; I'd bet good money they would have moved by now had they stayed in Pittsburgh.

We hung a 'U' and ventured into East Liberty to get some mozarella cheese fries from Vento's. The story in 'Sliberty was more of the same blight we saw in Bloomfield, only worse. Entire apartment complexes and industrial buildings were either shuttered or had been raized. I couldn't seem to get my bearings because I didn't recognize the landscape. I didn't remember how to get to Giant Eagle in Shadyside or one place I worked around the corner on Penn Avenue (!). Sears? Gone. The Old Nabisco plant? Demolished. Sure enough, there's a big-ass Home Depot on the corner of East Liberty Boulevard and Highland Avenue, and a sign on the 1/2 structure that's left of the Nabisco plant announcing a new mall/shopping/residential pseudo-town center that tipped me off as to what was really happening. Pittsburgh is gentrifying. The city's still focusing its capital on developing as much former industrial space as possible into the types of businesses upscale service sector professionals are believed will support. But they're not really creating a new economy as much as they're papering over the old economy with shiny brochures trumpeting the great food that's available and the low cost of living. You'd think with all the natural resources surrounding Pittsburgh, somebody would have thought about developing a new, 'green' energy industry around all that freaking coal that's in Pennsylvania. Oh... they've got a zillion billboards telling everyone how green coal is. But (again) I'm willing to bet not 1 experimental CTL diesel plant or coal-fired electricity plant that uses carbon sequestration has been built.

Evidently the Black underclass on the east side are the last phase of the sweep-and-clear process. I'm guessing if all goes as city planners have envisioned, all those homeys walking up and down the streets of Homewood and 'Sliberty like zombies will be tomorrow's car detailers, dry cleaners, and shiatzu massage parlor attendants. That's if and when the Yuppies ever come in the anticipated numbers. Meanwhile, they won't have the opportunity to live in the neighborhoods of their parents and grandparents. As soon as the sweep-and-clear is finished, the prices on yet-to-be built condos and houses will be priced beyond their reach. And they'll be relocated en masse to the near suburbs for what will surely become the new ghetto.

On the return trip back to D.C., I couldn't help but think the people I knew -- Bob Federline, Nosh, Wayne Moody, Ronalee, Sylvia, Denny Scullion, Irv, Bob Grannis, 'Cadillac' Nixon, Ray Z, Jim Rylands -- deserved better. They believed.

When I first began blogging, I made a promise to myself to focus on ideas over events and people. I realize most blogs are essentially intimate, personal confessionals of a sort; another example of technology being perverted by a cynical, impersonalized, disaffected culture. I avoid writing opinuendo on The Way The World Ought to be According to Me, 'Top 10-, 25-, or 100-best' lists, polls, and otherwise moralizing on ideology, the culture wars, religion, economics, etc.. I don't do punditry. I don't often make prognostications, and neither do I indulge in idle conjecture. It's not that I'm trying to suggest myself as an intellectual -- I enjoy a good, foaming rant like the next person -- but I enjoy those conversations when people aren't afraid to posit abstract, or unconventional thoughts for consideration's sake.

The hairs on the back of my neck are up today after a heated argument Wednesday night/Thursday morning with a would-be partner over what I felt were basic action items needed immediately for our proposed joint venture to move forward. Earl 'Osirus' Jackson had contacted me recently in proposing we combine our resources to form an IPTV provider, a la Brightcove. Apparently, Earl has invested a considerable amount of cash and sweat into building an entire network infrastructure complete with hubs in 3 cities and no small amount of bandwidth. Earl had no business plan, however, and had become frustrated by the endless parade of fakers, wannabes, and broke-ass loafers that populate the entertainment industry he's attempting to service. I quickly learned Earl's M.O. is ad hoc; his entrepreneurial skills are... um... woefully underdeveloped, to put it mildly. The poor schlub hadn't yet created a rate card for potential clients when we spoke.

Compounding Earl's problem was the fact he's living hand-to-mouth. That in itself is neither a serious transgression nor an insurmountable hurdle if one can focus themselves on the task(s) at hand while maintaing a general flexibility for adapting as conditions change. While Earl's technical prowess and industriousness are readily apparent, his business acumen is nominal and his people skills wouldn't earn him a cup of coffee. Did I mention he's divergent? Maybe 'frenetic', or 'manic' are better descriptions because his mouth works faster than, and independently from his brain.

Anyway... after a couple of brainstorming sessions, we decided we'd establish Emanhi.com as an IPTV aggregator/portal for the distribution of urban-themed content. Earl would concentrate on operations and I'd focus on marketing and business development. As I saw things, the venture's most pressing need was working capital for no other reason than the economics of IT hosting doesn't favor what I call, 'cash-and-carry' bootstrap financing from customers. Large, established companies aren't likely to work with a new venture because it lacks brand name recognition and a track record. Conversely, start-ups run the risk of pricing themselves out of the range their clients are willing to pay. Excluding revenues from advertising or content sales, the company Earl envisioned requires a high volume of clients (200+ IPTV 'channels') in order to be financially viable.

I immediately started working along two tracks: securing financing for working capital, and developing a network of potential partners and clients from videographers, event planners, impresarios, indie filmmakers, etc.. Meanwhile, Earl informed me his financial situation had taken a turn for the worse. So I scrambled together $1,500 to tie him over until I could arrange for a 'hard money' commercial loan, leveraging Earl's investment to date in Emanhicorp. I had completed about 95% of a business plan for Emanhi.com for two investors whose interest I had qualifed when I called Earl with an update and request for items to complete the executive summary.

For reasons unknown to me, Earl was already in a snit when he picked up my call. The first issue I raised after the perfunctory 'how dos' was for him to provide me with a reliable estimate of his total investment in Emanhicorp. I explained that I had located a couple of individuals whom had expressed an interest in investing in the venture. In order to proceed with them, I had to create a budget and financial projections from scratch as Earl hadn't provided me much direction on overhead. I finished the financials March 3 in anticipation of receiving a signed non-disclosure agreement (NDA) from Earl -- which I picked up March 4.

Earl blew right past my request for his bio and confirmation of how much he's spent so far on Emanhicorp. AAMOF, I don't even believe he let off the accelerator that powers his cake hole long enough to hear anything. In fact, he rationalized not providing the information I requested as I hadn't signed a NDA with him. That caught me off guard. I tried to explain the information I was requesting to complete the executive summary isn't pertinent to a NDA, but I'd sign either the one I gave him (protecting my intellectual property) OR one he'd create, and mail a copy back to him. Earl then began to backslide into a rant against people whom had attempted to exploit him previously.

I thought agreeing to send him a signed copy of my NDA put that issue to rest. But Earl seemed to interpret the NDA as the partnership agreement between us -- which it clearly isn't. We had agreed in principle to our respective roles, I thought, and would subsequently hammer out the specifics, i.e.; equity ownership, titles, etc., in a separate agreement. Again... Earl wasn't listening for yammering on about how often he'd been victimized. I made several attempts to calm him down so that we could talk about the remaining action item -- updating Emanhi.com with a Flash video from his archives that we could use in presentations to potential partners and clients. It's at this point when Earl went into a Three Mile Island, DEFCOM 1 meltdown.

Earl was adamant in his belief content producers should pay Emanhi.com up front for their own IPTV channels to use as demos to potential clients. I certainly understood and was sympathetic to his position, but it was simply untenable for several reasons. First, Emanhicorp had no rate card, commission structure, or plan (!) in place as an incentive for someone to become an affiliate versus an independent contractor. Second, content producers typically aren't of the habit of paying for infrastructure, i.e.; venue, time, positioning, etc., minus some provision of marketing support from the exhibitor/distributor. Third -- and most importantly -- the economics of capitalizing an IT venture by way of a quasi-network marketing strategy are problematic. Emanhicorp would literally go broke (get more broke?) trying to land enough clients to finance the company and simultaneously afford its overhead. I tried to reiterate to Earl the importance and practicality of securing investment capital as our priority. I might as well have been talking to a TV set.. one stuck on MSNBC druing a Chris Matthews babblethon.

At several points during his batshit remonstration, I asked what was the conflict in taking his video from his MySpace page, or shooting a 1-minute podcast of his talking head (exploding), then embedding it on Emanhi.com as an IPTV channel. That, Earl claimed, was a violation of confidentiality. HUH? I asked how does a web developer embedding a video he produced on a site he owns infringe upon anyone's copyright when it's running 24-7 @ MySpace? But as I've explained here earlier, Earl's mental Amtrak train had long since derailed.

By this point Earl was foaming so badly I couldn't get a word in edgewise. And... he was screaming profanities, to which I counseled didn't vibe with me. Finally, I yelled at him to shut up for a few minutes. I said in very clear terms the effort and time I'd put in on his behalf demonstrated the sincerity of my intentions and that I didn't appreciate him insinuating I was setting him up for a fall. Like an immature woman caught up on the wrong end of a silly argument she instigated, Earl said, "The conversation is over", and he hung up.

I called him back, leaving a message questioning Earl's masculinity for hanging up the phone in such a manner and a suggestion he leave me the f*ck alone.

As I wrote earlier, I prefer not to write about personal issues or grandstand on people because I feel it's a trifling pursuit. So... I'm searching for some theme or idea that Earl's psychotic episode represents. Maybe it's that we can only open doors for people; it's their responsibility to walk through them. Or, that you can't fix stupid. I'm thinking Earl symbolizes something much larger and troubling -- as in the psychic defenses many Americans create in desperation of retaining that one, tiny sliver of unique identity we hold so dear in an impersonal world

I wrote the following originally for Avery Tooley's Stereo Describes My Scenario in response to 'Suckers Never Play Me', an essay decrying the formulaic and soulless nature of commercial music radio stations today.

Satellite radio's programming is directly analogous to that of cable TV -- most channels are programmed by the same media network conglomerates that dominate commercial over-the-air radio -- so you get the standard Top 40 playlist strategy, only segmented all to Hell. It's OK, but I wish there were more programming tiers (e.g.; 10-, and 20- channel packages). available.

Sirius and XM are never going to completely supplant free, over-the-air radio for another reason: intimacy. Radio, like print, is largely a localized media. Stations that focus on the local scene, whether they feature news, music, or both, do well. Strangely enough, most commercial music stations ignore this axiom as their programming decisions come down to cost versus reach. It's more risky to experiment with R&D on the new hotness than go with the brand names, even if the latter's music is aural garbage. Remember... risk = $$$$.

The #1 complaint by regular music radio listeners is as Ed and Av have stated; they don't break out the New-New. (Unless a major label is greasing their GSM with ad buys and comps.) It's almost as bad with satellite radio as it is with conventional over-the-air stations. Indies hardly get any love -- basically, they're priced out of getting airplay.

Since none of us here are getting any younger where we can frequent local nightclubs to catch emerging acts, I recommend MySpaceMusic and Live365.com for streaming music without downloading. You can tailor the search on both sites by genre -- you'll have to search a little harder on Live365 than MySpace for the newest/latest music, but they multicast genuine, indie, Internet radio stations. What I foresee developing is more Internet radio stations stepping into the breach left by over-the-air commercial stations to address the various niche markets like smooth jazz, or even old-school rap (rap oldies? LMAO!!!) with a mix of streams, podcasts, and mp3 downloads.

If you haven't bought one yet, get a mobile device that stores and plays back mp3s and other digital audio.