Color Me Impressed: The Replacements rock, Amazon pays for itself, thanks.

mats merch

First thing we do when we finally show up/Is get shit-faced drunk and try to sober up…

But first: Social responsibility, corporate division:

So okay, Amazon dodges sales taxes, did no favors for old-fashioned bookstores (which we love) and add your own pet annoyance/moral offense here.

But when it comes to building itself an enormous corporate HQ in the midst of a big city that will soon have up to 30,000-plus workers living, working, supporting businesses and etc Jeff Bezos and Co do biz in a very appealing way. For instance:

1. They’re paying for a dedicated bike route to their HQ, and buying a new rail car for the city’s South Lake Union transit line.

2. They implore their workers to live within walking distance of the office (see also: enormous residential building spree in the formerly disused South Lake Union neighborhood on the edge of downtown)

3. When it came to leveraging their investment in the city with financial help from Seattle taxpayers (in the form of tax breaks, building cash and etc., the hugely-profitable Amazon asked Seattle taxpayers to pitch in how many 100’s of millions of dollars? Zero million. Zero dollars.

As the ‘mats say…Color Me Impressed. Here’s how it sounded last night in their first show in more than 22 years:

I’m in love with that song. And this one, too:

Twitter fiction: Pierce Gleeson’s “Four Million Followers”

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I just stumbled on this site — distorte.com — and what I’ve seen so far is brilliant. Odd scraps of fiction; extended musings on Twitter; more and more and more.

It’s written by an Irish fellow named Pierce Gleeson, who is also a designer. He’s a hella-good writer, too.

This one is called “Four Million Followers,” about the spiritually detached world of a real man called to Tweet to a soda brand’s many, many Twitter followers. Here’s a small segment:

One evening, as he sat at the screen watching retweets blossom from his promotional competition announcement, he received a direct message flag. It came from a rival brand, a salt-sharpened sports drink hugely popular is Europe. ‘Are you a real person too?’ it said.

He sat on it for almost two days without replying, weighing up the potential risks. Anything he sent could be screencapped and publicised. Eventually, succumbing to the strange loneliness of his medium, he replied: ‘Yes, I am. But so what?’

‘I was just curious. We are like secret celebrities.’

Over the following months he exchanged messages with several other large brands. Nobody ever introduced themselves or spoke of their lives beyond the Twitter feed. It was a strange kind of roleplaying, an extension of the mantle he wore as Quark Cola’s Twitter feed.

Love it. Here’s the rest.