Netflix Changed the World While Corporate America was Sleeping

I just read that Blockbuster will not be going bankrupt — yet — but that they have found a way to stay afloat for a while longer, which includes being delisted from the New York Stock Exchange. They were trading at 19 cents a share. This just highlights how much the internet has changed the world and will continue to change the world in the coming years. There is no doubt in anybody’s mind that companies like Netflix have completely reinvented the way that we as consumers view. consuming films and television. Netflix itself has changed a lot since its inception in 1997. It is 2010 right now and I’ve had an active account with Netflix since around 2002, which is a whopping eight years, and since then the evolution of Netflix has involved free, streaming movies and television episodes over the internet.

There is simply no reason for any sort of service like Blockbuster at this point in time. The other giant in the industry is Redbox, which is just as it sounds, a kiosk outside of supermarkets and drug stores that offers recent releases for a discounted rate and no sort of contractual obligation other than returning the disc after you’ve viewed it. Right now rental kiosks account for 19% of the marketshare for DVD rentals, with the mail services such as Netflix at 36%. Together, they are the majority and will most likely continue to grow. Both services can co-exist because of how diverse the market is right now. A company like Netflix caters to a certain audience; ones who use the internet often, who enjoy newer technology and who have some disposable income, while Redbox appeals to nearly everybody by making the process simple and inexpensive.

Netflix has nothing to worry about and will not for a while, as for right now they have the market cornered through innovation. Kiosk services like Redbox are a great idea and will continue to thrive, but are still built in the traditional retail model of physical location and offering a tangible product. Of course they do what Blockbuster wishes it could do; have multiple locations per square mile that involve next to no overhead (building costs, utilities, employees). This is all well and good, but Netflix makes a much different mode of attack for distribution of their goods; the internet.

We are still at a point where the internet’s tremendous growth hasn’t caught on with every American, as there is an older generation that went most of its life without it and while they have begun to embrace the internet, cannot grasp how younger generations cannot seemingly live without it. Netflix’s brand is without question right now in the film industry, as it has gone far beyond sending out red envelopes with scuffed DVDs in filthy paper sleeves. Netflix has gotten its brand out into the world by offering their streaming services to as many people as they can. Their streaming service began on their website and then moved on to a few set-top boxes such as the Roku. From there they struck deals with Microsoft for the XBox360 console and multiple DVD player manufacturers, then to other game console developers and the latest big step is television manufacturers themselves. Basically, if you own almost any piece of modern technology that allows you to watch something on a screen and can hook up to the internet, you can view Netflix on it.

So I guess the whole point of this is to see how innovation will always in the end topple stagnation. Blockbuster and other retail rental spots are stagnant and have spent the past ten years playing catch-up to a market that was moving far quicker than they are. As a person who has been in a corporate environment for the past three years inside of a giant, lumbering-yet-stagnant industry, I’ve watched the world move on and I’ve watched how my company and our competitors conduct business. I’ve seen the innovations made by companies within the industry in the past twenty years and I’m astonished by just how little has changed and just how sterile the environment is. To see an industry from the inside be so afraid of its own shadow and to step out from the shadow is to see it walk right off of a cliff eventually without ever seeing it coming, as it was so busy looking back and getting lost in trying to catch up to see what is before them.

I’ve watched committees being formed, I’ve watched the flow of ideas where a great idea is pitched, people get excited, and then it is analyzed, torn apart and then put on the shelf for years because it threatens the status quo and ultimately, it is scary. This is what happened to the film rental industry and what will happen to many more.

The music industry is a mess, with iTunes and Amazon still selling music in a traditional way with non-traditional (yet still somewhat traditional) delivery. There has yet to be a Netflix for music as everybody is so afraid or trying to over-innovate and make music more “social.” I’m sorry, but Netflix does offer me suggestions, but never do I turn on a movie on Netflix and am then forced to sit through a suggestion of what I might like. That is what services like Pandora offer, and while that is OK for some, the complete lack of choice and the poor quality of services like this make it built more in the incredibly antiquated model of the radio station than a direct-to-the-consumer service model that has thrived for other companies in other fields.

People need to wake up.

[surface.]

I wish that I could die in your arms tonight,
But it is your decision and its taking you
Far too long, for my tastes and your own.
Sure, I’ve fallen before and of course, I’ll fall
Over and over again; that alone my decision. 

Maybe I’ve bled out enough to show that I feel;
Or maybe I’ve yet to scratch the surface now.
Either way I realize the blood only flows in one
Direction; solidarity in a cleansing stream of red
In hopes that it touches you where I can’t. 

Tonight I want to gaze into those eyes, feel 
Your lips and the breath of your laugh and fall,
Once again into a place where I’m comfortable
With the voices crafting my cruelest actions
Knowing I’m not the only one who can see them.

Can’t I rest my head a while in the warm embrace
Of your smile and feel like if even for a moment,
A fleeting memory, that it is with you that I belong? 

[locust.star]

So I'm thinking, and I'm thinking that I need to cut down some weight. I need to be at least a Cruiserweight instead of a Heavyweight. I'm not fond of looking in the mirror and seeing Frank Mir post-accident with his gut and all. I wonder why I haven't worked out since November and where my head is at, but I'm not sure that it matters anymore.

Everybody gets all worked up in the New Year and sets these lofty goals that they never intend to even give a fair shot, they look back at how awful the previous year as and how this year will be different, will be better. If I ever wonder why I let myself go this time, I just reflect. It has nothing to do with any sort of year, years are arbitrary if anything. A calendar change means nothing to me. I just want to get better.

July my father died and I've never truly felt pain like that before, and if I have I've been able to block it out. I've been doing my best to get over it, but one doesn't just get over something like this. I got that promotion that I deserved from work, but what does it matter? It was a year too late and in the end it doesn't help anything. I had a carrot dangled over my face when I was bleeding and asked to compete. I can never turn down a fight, even if there is no way that I can win, that is just the nature of the beast. I found out that I was close, so very close, but still didn't make it, but what does that matter if nothing changes for me?

I met a girl that I respected, a girl that I thought the world of. Things got heavy and they got there fast, it was what we both wanted, but when it came down to it, it was too much for her and shit that was good is shit that doesn't exist anymore. My true nature, the locust star, never stops shining the light of existence. There's a lot of stuff and things will always be heavy.

That is just what you are. Accept it.

[the.world.needs.a.hero]

The world needs a hero,

And I fear that it isn’t me.
All that I’ve wanted is to
Be your hero; hold you close
to tell you that its always
Going to be alright. We both
Know that it isn’t, and who
Are we fooling? Maybe that
Is why the world still needs
A hero, and I’m stuck inside
Of the darkness of my mind.

[lips.to.a.flame]

[lips.]

When your lips met mine,
The layers melted away,
The world was put on hold.
Your hand slipped into
Mine and for once all of the
Pieces finally fit. I find
Myself, lost, once again,
This time in your eyes as
You stare back at me,
Myself stripped bare, naked,
Without fear. I stare back
At you, nothing more than
Myself; trembling, shaking,
Alive again, all from your smile.


[flame.]

Now its daybreak and all
The butterflies have left;
Seeking the flickering of
A still burning set of flames.
Its because you are broken,
And I am scarred. My trail
Of blood and reason ran
through me, you were but a
Brief passerby; a tourist
of my maligned desires. If I
Could find a way, I'd blame
Myself for thinking I could
Rest my head from all of my
Weary days. But I'm covering
Up again, Shivering, Cold.

[ashes.]

I'm wondering if the sun will shine again,
Because I've been blind for far too long.
The stars stopped speaking to me or I
Just believe that I've lost my language.

I spoke in tongues and now I speak in maths,
Neither one has led me to the reason.
I'm bloodless and numb, you're ashes in
my mouth. Sorrow never knew its home,
Now it has found its way back to me.

If I'm not lost then I'm not sure that I
Can really be found, You're ashes in my
Mouth and I can't breath this air anymore.

No words.

Through all of the bullshit, I realize that I'm not ready to let you go. I realize that none of this makes sense to me and it won't for a while. So many thoughts have gone through my head, and now that I'm trying to collect them I'm overwhelmed; I don't really know what to say.

Mary called me this morning, and I knew that Mary had no reason to be calling me at 8:11 on a Monday morning. My gut wrenched as I walked through my office so I could call her back. I knew they were just returning from Europe, and my first thought is that something happened to both of them, or just to Pam.. But if so my dad would be calling me, not Mary. They thought it was a heart attack, my stepmom found him on the bathroom floor not moving or breathing. He was rushed to the hospital where they kept trying to stabilize his condition, but nothing was working. I drove home solemn, I kept my sunglasses on because the tears were streaming down my face.

He'll make it, people survive these all the time. Every day people survive heart attacks. People, worse people who lived selfish, cruel lives have survived them. My step father, who holds a special place in the depth of depravity survived two of them, my dad was going to be fine, I thought. Except that it wasn't a heart attack. It was worse.

My dad had a brain aneurysm and it hemorrhaged. The next time I spoke with Mary she explained this, and explained that they asked if a brain surgeon should be brought in, but then there would be a 5% chance of survival -- brain dead in a wheel chair for however long he could sustain. As I type this, my father is on life support, as my sister explained to me, his chest still heaves up and down as his lungs pump air throughout his system. He lays there, serene, hooked up to a life support system, long enough so they can harvest his organs to be donated.

I'm across the country and I can't get there until tomorrow and I'm not even sure how I'm feeling. I realize that I'm slipping tenses here, but I really don't care.

Dad, there is really so much that I want to say, and I know that I can't, that it is too late. You spent your entire life dedicated to helping everybody else and nobody ever had the chance to help you out in return. I know this is how you would of wanted it; you wouldn't of wanted to put other people what they put you through. Yesterday you brought your sick Aunt that you've taken care of for as long as I can imagine a set of rosary beads that you bought for her at the Vatican. You were always there for her, even when nobody else was. They all visited her when she was alright, but you were the one that took her from hospital to hospital, that was there every day that you could be. The same with your mother, you were always there while everybody else kept their distance and waited.

You never gave up and you never would have. I remember those nights that you spent sleeping on a sleeping bag on my floor because my mother was trying to provoke you so she could get custody of us, and I remember how every night you cried yourself to sleep when you thought that I had already fallen asleep. When a little over a year and a half later I decided to go back and live with her because I wasn't happy with your life decisions you didn't stop me, and when that fell apart you didn't raise a single objection to taking me back.

All I can really hope for is that you were happy these last 10 years. I love you. I am going to miss you.

Whispering.. Wondering..

[lonesome.song]

As I fall deeper and deeper,

I feel my heart shatter --

Into a million little pieces.

Not knowing your touch,

Or smelling your scent

Leaves me wondering why;

Scratching at the doors

And picking at the bindings.

I try to pick up the pieces,

As to not be lost without you;

Instead I find myself whispering

To you in my sleep, wondering

If my voice can carry that far,

Or if your ears can hear the sounds

Of my last lonesome song.

[midland]

The pumpjack stands --

Ominous on the horizon

As the sun melts through my soul.

A hazy lack of understanding

Plagues me as I tend to my mind

In misunderstood silence.

The trail of smoke and reason burns

Without my consent yet again,

Bending my will and contorting my mind.

This was never my intention,

But instead my affliction,

As I'm cursed to walk through life alone;

My stark atonement for opening my eyes

To a world that wishes to remain unseen.

I see.

I see people and feel guilty. A part of me feels bad for them, for what they know and don't know. It isn't pity or loathing as much as it is a cold indifference. People are sad.

How am I expected to integrate with them if I don't see any value in them?

I miss my friends.

[more.]

I'm disconnected through your smile --

Haunted by the sound and the fury

Of your laugh. Enchanted again by

The look in your eyes, the pounding

In my head and the throbbing of my

Heart. My signals are shaken not stirred.

Knock three times if this is for real.

Knock two times if you want me.

Knock me unconscious if I'm still alive.

Not that I'd be able to tell, but when

I decided to lose myself I found you,

Wondering if I'm too far gone to be

Saved. A penetrating truth is needed

While only a vague nonsensical smile

Is playing out as my spirit guide. It

Is never enough to simply be, there

Always has to be a catch, always

Has to be an overwhelming sense

That there is more, always more.

If I ask nicely, may I have some more?

[someday.]

Someday -- This is my biggest fear --

That I'll find myself a reason to care.

Maybe I'll awake and realize that my

Misgivings were simple premonitions,

Pissed away by a self-preserving and

Self-destructive impulse inside of me.

Tomorrow -- A day I can't imagine --

If I was supposed to be something,

It isn't supposed to be tomorrow, it 

Was forgotten just like yesterday.

Just like today. Just like every other

Day that my eyes refuse to open.

Yesterday -- I said that I was sorry --

But I'm only sorry that I didn't hurt

You sooner; letting myself relish in

This ceremonial bloodletting, embracing,

by the ounce, every bit of pain you

Let me show you of this world.

Today --Today I tried to live, again --

Only to find that I've lost the plot,

I'm really not the man I wish to be;

Sad, brittle, broken and lost without

my paddle -- the paddle I cast into the 

Sea, so why won't you just pity me?

Someday -- It'll be the day that I realize --

That I'll need to love myself to care.

Maybe I'll awake and realize that I

Already have, always have, that the

World just forgot to embrace what I 

Was -- Just whatever they weren't.

[grenade.]

I realized, not too long ago

That I was nothing but a lost

Little soldier, exiled to a non-

Existent war. I've watched

Everything play out in front

Of my shallow eyes, only to

Realize that I was twenty-six

Hundred miles away from it all.

An existential dilemma wrapped

Up, neatly, inside of a thousand-

Yard stare; A victim of a self-

Imposed case of shell shock from

A hand grenade I haven't quite

Learned to let go of yet. The pin

Keeps calling to me, like the itch

That I could never reach. I won't

Be happy until I've burned all that

I was right down to the Ground.

"All I needed was inspiration"

"There has been a new development regarding your mission

which we must now communicate to you. Months ago a man

was ordered on a mission which was identical to yours. We

have reason to believe that he is now operating with Kurtz.

Saigon was carrying him MIA for his family's sake. They 

assumed he was dead. Then they intercepted a letter he

tried to send his wife :

SELL THE HOUSE

SELL THE CAR

SELL THE KIDS

FIND SOMEONE ELSE

FORGET IT

I'M NEVER COMING BACK

FORGET IT

Captain Richard Colby - he was with Kurtz."

[legacy.]

I am not a poet, a clown to entertain you,

Guilty of nothing but parlor tricks to earn

An admirable gasp, to win the affections

Of sullen little ideological disasters with legs

Agape to devour what was left of my pride.

I don't have a gift that was bestowed upon

Me, that I have to carry like a beast of burden

Through a sea of meaningless affections and 

Trite little electronic messages of misplaced

Love. I don't want this to be my sad legacy;

A path of destruction and blood-shaped

Pools left to cake over time before the rain

Can wash away my every public disgrace.

I want to meet the Marlboro man and ride

Off with him, off into a cancerous sunset.

I want to spew bile and breathe smoke, unable

To make you smile or ever utter my name 

In your misguided orgasmic indiscretions.

I want to lay my bones amongst the rocks and

The roots, letting them dry out in the sun --

Time becomes the ultimate factor of my fallacy;

My legacy that I intend to mock until I lie.

[smile]

From out of nowhere, it hit me --

Like a freight train at full speed.

My breath short, my mind swimming

In the newly flooded deep waters.

Your eyes haunt me as I sleep,

Tossing, turning, my desires pouring

Out with every choked syllable.

Every minute I wait drags itself out,

Time and space laughing as it pulls

Me down, drags me down like gravity.

With this weight on my shoulders I

Push forward, the wind whipping

At me so fast, so hard -- breathing 

In short bursts, dreaming of your smile.

Smile.

Chinese Democracy.

To understand, to really, really understand what this album is, you have to understand the timeline. I am 25 years old at the moment and finally have this album in my hands. When I was 10 years old "The Spaghetti Incident?" was released, which was an album of covers by Guns N' Roses. As I got a little bit older, I fell into an obsession over the band Guns N' Roses, maybe due to the awesome guitar work or earnst emotion conveyed by Axl Rose, or the fact that they never apologized no matter what they did. It was music that I could connect to, and really, the first band that did that to me.

I've waited well over half of my life to listen to this fully realized album, and the question seems to be; was it worth it? The answer is yes. For an even more overwhelming timeline, think about this; Axl Rose's last release came while George Bush was in office, and Chinese Democracy comes out at the tail end of George W. Bush's 8-year reign in office. At this point the timing both doesn't matter and is crucial; rock n' roll feels all but dead. When I think of the music I listen to, there really aren't bands like Guns N' Roses anymore. I think that really, the closest thing to them I still listen to is Megadeth. Bands simply don't exist like this anymore, the current names in big rock bands are uninspired bands that sound like poorly tossed together tribute bands to the early 90's, like Nickelback. This will not do. Rock music has been waiting for a saviour, and the unlikely hero is one of the most hated men in the history of rock music, W. Axl Rose.

This album is unlike any other I've experienced, as I feel a weird connection to it. Since 1999 I've been following the oddesy that is the creation of Chinese Democracy. Every live show that leaked out with a few new tracks, every demo that hit the net, every leaked track that made the rounds I've poured over in anticipation. I think the only things in life that I had to really wait to experience were driving, drinking legally, sex and Chinese Democracy, and most of them were disappointing when I finally reached it. I remember back to the first time Axl played "Chinese Democracy" live, or when I went to go see an awful Arnold Schwarzenegger film just to hear "Oh My God" play in the background and be supportive. I still remember the first time hearing about "Madagascar" at Rock In Rio II, where Kurt Loder of MTV proclaimed it a masterpiece unlike any other since "Stairway to Heaven." To say there was massive anticipation for this album is to sell it short. It had impossible anticipation.

So to say that it satisifies me really means something. From the ominious loop that introduces "Chinese Democracy" up until the dreamlike sequence that ends "Prostitute" there is never a minute where I question what I am listening to or feel like I need to skip. Now, there really weren't a lot of surprises along the way, as by the time this came out there really were only three songs that had never been heard before; "Scraped," "Sorry" and "This I Love." "Shackler's Revenge" is also quasi-new, as it just made its debut a few months ago in the videogame Rock Band 2. For a fourteen-track album, to think that only four songs are really new is astonishing. Think about it, I've been listening to "Chinese Democracy," "Rhiad" and "Street of Dreams" for years now, as they have morphed, grown, been manipulated until they reached their final forms. I almost feel like Axl did these brief tours and passed out these CDs to people he knew would leak it to get an initial reaction, and to know what he needs to do to these songs.

People are going to complain because Slash and Duff and maybe even to a lesser extent Matt Sorum aren't involved in this, but I don't think that Axl really needed them, and I think that is what this whole exercise was in. Before you complain that Slash's guitar melodies and solos were the soul behind Guns, listen to "Better" and feel all the parts just sort of come together perfectly, from the screaching intro, the pounding main riff, the great, emotional outtro solo that blows me away everytime on top of the incredible production and feel. Listen to this and tell me that Axl "needed" any of his previous bandmates. No, this album is Axl's, and while there were people that worked with him, the final Production credits go to him, the lyrics and music credits on every song go to him, with the music being shared with at least one other bandmate, but ultimately resting on him. Axl Rose was a singer in 1993, who wore Reeboks with his name on them, a bandana on his head and a pair of spandex shorts. In 2008 he is a musician who can play more than songs with simple chord progressions in the key of C on piano, which just speaks for what sort of transformation he has forced himself through in th past few years. The process has been taking the songs inside of his head and finding a way to transfer them into recordings.

Tracks like "Street of Dreams," "There Was a Time," "Sorry," "This I Love" and "Prostitute" just prove how much went into the recording of this album, with the complexity of each and just how well the final product turned out. Each song featuring some sort of complex arrangement for a rock song. Some songs are more memorable than others, and some songs are just beyond imagination. When you ask me why I stayed 'faithful' to Axl Rose throughout all of these years, listen to "Sorry" and understand that nobody else could have written that song. The haunting beginning to the build up to the explosion of a chorus until the song continues to swirl and build to a satisfying finish. Listen to "Madagascar" and try not to be blown away by the depth and scale of the whole thing, from the intro by an ensemble with the keyboard over it, to the classic screaching guitar dueling with Axl's lyrics, all the way to one of the best and most satisfying parts of any song I've heard in years, the guitar solo over well-placed vocal samples from various MLK speeches, quotes from "Mississippi Burning," "Se7en," "Cool Hand Luke" (again) and Michael J. Fox's amazing monologue from "Casualties of War."

People are going to hate this, it is inevitable. Axl Rose has made his share of enemies and over the years his antics have made him come off like a pompus, pretentious asshole. Then some people just don't listen to music like this anymore, because quite simply, it doesn't really exist. Or people are just too pretentious themselves to allow themselves to get lost in music like this. That is fine, but for me, I am able to put aside my pretentions and listen to Axl pour his soul out over a piano with a guitar wailing in the background in "This I Love" and be satisfied.

YouTube Playlist

Sometimes it just happens, when you have a few select songs you can't stop listening to. So.

Nick Cave - Love Letter

Megadeth - Addicted to Chaos

Grinderman - Man in the Moon

Zakk Wylde -As Dead as Yesterday

Steve Von Till - Breathe

Acid Bath - The Bones of Baby Dolls

Blind Melon - Mouthful of Cavities

"They see you. They see everything you do."

[torrent.]

Fragility be damned; Alone I stand, strong.

I stand not for your smile, your heart, your love.

No, alone I stand, atop my molten-cool center,

Winding down after my heart bled torrents.

Created are these; Emotional, scarred track marks.

Dormant I've lain, hiding my festering addiction;

A passenger of dark, masquerading through the light,

Sun-scarred eyes refusing to see; Refuse the pattern.

Waiting out storms; Dry I stand, remote.

The fire warms, but the water beads, running.

Pouring down my soul's bullet-proofed window;

A stifling reminder of all that could have been.

Unquenched thirst; The longing, the anticipation.

Even with open windows, it's still nothing but drops;

Bolt by bolt, Chain by chain, break down the door,

Surrender the fears, the loathing; Cold rain stings.

Lightning breaks right; Tearing the night, shamed.

The storm seeps, the open wounds, painful reminders.

The rain I begged for and storm that I had sought;

These scars still bleed from your tainted touch.

No longer can I know, I'm conditioned beyond repair.