Anyway, the reason I’m putting it to use this time is to let you know that I probably won’t be blogging here very much anymore — if at all. But that’s because I’ve started blogging all the time over at www.joerybicki.com. Please come by and say hello.

I’ll see you there.

UPDATE: Good lord, I can’t believe I also keep forgetting to mention that I’ve had a page up at last.fm for awhile. Go! Listen!

Just because.

Thursday is my last day in the office, and while you’re still going to be seeing me around this place (I’m still hammering out details of my Big Plans but I’ll be posting here no matter what), I thought I would leave you with some thoughts gleaned from my ten-and-almost-a-half years working for the same employer, and nine-and-a-third years working on the same magazine. Let’s begin!

On the Business World
When you start at a new job, you will be terrified. Ten years later, you will wonder what you were so worried about.

Learn how to do the things that aren’t strictly your job. You never know when it might come in handy.

Remember that it’s okay to say “no” sometimes. But if you spend more energy explaining why you can’t do something than you would have spent actually doing it, it’s time to look for a new job.

The business world is strange, and fickle, and strange. Weird things happen. Expect the weirdness and you’ll be fine.

My dad, the successful owner and manager of a small business, once told me, “Never ask an employee to do something that you wouldn’t be willing to do yourself.” Another way to put this is, “Never ask an employee to do something unless they know you’d be willing to do it yourself.” I have never been given better managerial advice.

On a related note, especially in the corporate world, remember that you never know when a subordinate may someday become a supervisor. So don’t be a dick.

And you never know when you might run into a former coworker later in life. Burning bridges is fun as hell, and I’m sure if you’re planning to move to Saskatchewan and raise caribou on a desolate farmstead there probably wouldn’t be many repercussions. But unless that’s your plan, you might want to think twice before sending that angry e-mail or submitting that angry blog post or leaving that angry voicemail. Yes, it might be very satisfying at the time. Don’t do it.

Remember that the most basic purpose of any business, pretty much by definition, is to make money. Expect the people in charge to make decisions with these factors in mind and you will be prepared for the strange, fickle weirdness.

Find the fun in your job. Every job has some. Just look for it. If you can’t find it, find a different job.

On Games
When was the last time you played the best-looking game on PS1? When was the last time you played Tetris (or something equivalently simple-looking)? Yeah, exactly. In the long run, graphics don’t mean shit.

Look into the stories of the people behind the games. They deserve more credit and recognition than they get.

You need to invite people over to play party games every once in a while. It nourishes the soul. Just don’t drink too much or you’ll break something.

Guitar Hero really is as good as everyone says. If you haven’t played it yet, do so.

Don’t ever, ever, take anything Jack Thompson says seriously. He’s an amusing, harmless hack. He deserves our pity, not our attention.

Remember that what you spend your money on this year dictates what kind of games come out next year. Write the game companies, sure, but don’t forget that your most powerful means of voting is your credit card.

Game publishers and console manufacturers are businesses. See above section for further details.

There is room in games for politics. There is room in games for art. There is room in games for satire, and humor, and social commentary. Is there room in your game collection?

Gamers are not a minority. We are not outsiders. We are not basement-dwellers or antisocial creeps or violent sociopaths. We are everyone. We are your grandmother and your bank teller. We’re the guy pumping your gas and the girl behind the counter at McDonald’s. Why we let ourselves be marginalized, I will never understand.

Systems come and systems go, but great games are forever.

On Life
Don’t believe everything you read on Wikipedia.

Make playlists for various occasions. The right music makes a pleasant time more pleasant.

Fer chrissakes, read a book once in awhile.

Turn off the ringer on your phone every now and then. It’s empowering.

Speaking of phones, if your cell phone rings in a restaurant, please select one of the following options: 1. Turn it immediately off; 2. Step outside to take the call; or 3. Answer quietly and immediately tell the caller you can’t talk right now and will call them back. If you do not choose one of these options, you are officially a self-absorbed asshole. Exceptions will be made if the caller is in the hospital, has just won the lottery, or is calling from beyond the grave. Maybe.

If your cell phone rings in a movie theater, please remember to turn it off next time. If you actually answer it, please head on out back and kill yourself.

Spend the time and effort to make your home a place people like to visit. Trust me on this one.

My mother always used to say, “Smile; you’ll feel better.” I hated that she said that, but damn it, Mom, you were so totally right.

-j. <–OUT

Seen on the back of a Toyota Corolla on the way into work. You can’t see it in this bad pic, but there’s a little heart above the kissing fishies.

I love seeing complex ideas distilled down to simple images.

Nothing of the sort happened for us. At least, nothing we were aware of. (It’s possible that our fantastic support group of friends, family, and other buffers kept any disasters from us. But I don’t think so.) It turned out exactly as we expected–no, scratch that, better than we expected. I couldn’t be happier. I wish it could have been three times as long, but it still probably wouldn’t have felt like enough time. It’s an astonishing thing to have all the people you care about most in the world, all in one place, all there for you. It made us want to throw more parties. Someday, when we win the lottery, we’ll make such shindigs a regular event.

Anyway, the reason I’ve called you all here today is to share this amusing piece about pitching PR strategies to bloggers. My favorite quote is this one:

It is crucial not to spam bloggers and to be aware of their likes and dislikes before you drop them a line. Canned, conventional pitch letters can be seen as offensive…When communicating with blogs, make sure to be completely open and honest about why you are contacting them, disclosing your organizational affiliation.

I love–love–the fact that this needs to be said. It reveals ever so much about PR firms’ approach to anyone who isn’t a blogger.

Now, being a journalist in the videogame industry, I deal with a great number of PR people. Some of my closest friends in the industry are PR people. So I know there are people who really do believe in the products they’re pitching, and who approach their jobs with professionalism, integrity, and honesty.

But this article makes it really obvious that there aren’t many.

1. Headlined a punk rock show in a Masonic temple in Trenton, New Jersey. The opening band was a very young Less Than Jake, followed by a surprise appearance by Bobby Steele (formerly of the Misfits) and his band the Undead, who performed a 3-song set on our equipment. Their closing song was a freakin’ incredible rendition of “Last Caress” (which Steele wrote but Glenn Danzig stole and copyrighted under his own name) in which Steele paused before the final verse and slyly commented, “Often imitated, never duplicated.” m/

2. Hosted an hour-long interview with Marilyn Manson and David Duchovny, where I got them to interview each other. (You can read it here.)

3. Raced full-tilt down a pier in Biloxi, Mississippi, to call 911, because I thought a homeless guy had drowned himself. Subsequently got into a heated argument with all the pot-smoking asshats on the pier who were pissed because the cops were coming. The guy turned out to be fine, just a bit drunk–and the water was only waist deep. Oops.

4. Spent the night in a train station in Norwich, England, after seeing New Model Army and subsequently learning that the last train left as the last song was playing.

5. Was called “a really great bass player” by the really great bassist from Rancid.

6. Scored 1460 on my SATs: 730 math, 730 verbal.

7. Assisted in an embalming, and helped dress my deceased father for his viewing (his funeral arrangements included a request for his five sons to do this honor). I grew up in a funeral home, which is our family’s business.

8. Watched a packed room of some 2000 people singing along to lyrics I wrote, at a show where my band opened for the Mighty Mighty Bosstones.

9. Met and interviewed Police drummer Stewart Copeland, who told me, “Creativity isn’t like a resource, where the more you use it the less you have. It’s like a muscle: the more you use it, the stronger it gets.” This may be the best advice I’ve ever been given.

10. Had my name used for a character in a totally awesome sci-fi novel, and was thanked in the aknowledgements.

So let’s hear yours!

As a reward for your patience, here’s an open thread to play in. Duscuss whatever your black little hearts desire. I’ll be back, well, soon. I promise.

I’m at work, so the pickings are slightly slimmer than at home; nevertheless I was somewhat surprised to discover that I actually have quite a few songs here that clock in at exactly 3:00. To wit:

“Crazy Face” by Van Morrison. Eh. It’s a bit slow-paced for “perfect pop” status, but as one of those classic smoke-and-whisky Van Morrison torchers, it works. I’ll give it half credit.

“Family Life” by New Model Army. Hell no. Too grim, too folky, too simple. Though at one point I really did love this song.

“Kielbasa” by Tenacious D. It’s raunchy and swaggering, and earns extra bonus points for including “Fuck yeah!” as an entire chorus. A definite yes.

“1000 Memories” by Bad Religion. Nope. Bad Religion can do perfect pop, but they can’t do it any longer than two minutes. Seriously, look it up yourself. It’s not a bad song, just not particularly good.

“Easy” by Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers. This definitely qualifies; it’s simple and sweet, and even includes what my jazz-schooled brother calls “the crowbar modulation,” i.e., shifting the entire song up one half-tone in the final chorus a la “Livin’ on a Prayer.”

“Ruby Sees All” by Cake. Nope. Not one of their best. The harmonies get honorable pop-perfection mention though.

“Drive-Thru” by Tenacious D. Oh dear god no. It’s a spoken-word track. NEXT!

“The Distance” by Cake. It may be white-boy rap, but it’s still rap no matter what you, they, or anyone says, which instantly disqualifies it.

“Silium’s Hill” by Daniel Lanois. Bzzzzt! Overdone poetics in a wannabe blues style is bad enough, but Lanois’ voice is far too sweet to pull it off even if it did qualify.

“If It Were Up to Me” by Rooney. Oh yeah. This shouldn’t be surprising considering that radio-friendly pop is Rooney’s raison d’etre. A nice, driving, Weezeresque beat just sweetens the deal.

That’s all we’ve got at the 3:00 mark, but interestingly if we extend the critieria by just a second in each direction we pick up not one, not two, but four Fugazi songs. It’s as though they’ve committed to never doing a song that’s exactly three minutes long — which, come to think of it, is probably exactly what happened. Other notables at the 2:59 mark include The Gourds (“Everybody’s Missing the Sun” — too country to be perfect pop), The Mighty Mighty Bosstones (“What Was Was Over” — one of their poppier by far from their best), Weezer (“Don’t Let Go” — oh, most definitely), and yet another Cake song (“Commissioning a Symphony in C,” which is just a little too dark to make the cut).

Well now, wasn’t that fun? Comments are open, so feel free to chime in with your own three-minute miracles.

Spending a holiday away from my 30-year comfort zone should have been in some way sad, but it wasn’t. To be fair, this is in part because it wasn’t as big of a production this year in Cleveland; now that my brothers’ and sisters’ kids are getting old enough to have families of their own, the family get-togethers are segmenting a bit — that’s a bit sad, I suppose, but also completely expected, understandable, and natural. But no, the real reason it was such a pleasant experience is that Kim’s family is so welcoming and hospitable; it wasn’t quite being at home, but it was close enough as to make almost no difference. These are good people, and I’m honored to be joining their family.

You know what the hardest part was, though? Watching Kim’s dad carve the turkey. It’s weird, I know, but seeing someone other than my own father doing the traditional Dad’s Thanksgiving Duty was damn hard — even though I’d already been through one Thanksgiving since he passed away. It’s funny how inconsequential things can make you miss someone.

But I’m thankful that I was able to spend the holiday amid love and laughter. I’m thankful that I have two fantastic families to spend holidays with. I’m thankful for the sweet, sweet single-malt Kim’s dad picked up and graciously allowed me to devour most of. And I’m thankful for the gift of an undeniably charmed life.

But truly, it’s an excellent read, combining the breezy pacing of Heinlein’s space operas, the grit of Haldeman’s Forever series and the seat-of-the-pants approach to revolutionary ideas that made Philip K. Dick’s stories so ripe for poaching by Hollywood.

Plus, it’s damn funny.

The fundamental humanity of the book is, I think, what’s going to make some waves in the sci-fi community. So much of recent sci-fi is about lit’rary style — at the expense of the story and the characters. John knows enough about writing to get out of his own way, stylistically, and let the story tell itself. It’s reminiscent of Orson Scott Card’s work in its clarity (and, come to think of it, its snappy dialogue), which is, to me, a very significant thing.

This isn’t the next Neuromancer. This isn’t the next Perdido Street Station. Those are both compliments; John’s done something which is, in my opinion, far more difficult than crowbarring “edgy” prose or freebasing surreal (and thus almost entirely inaccessible) universes: He’s written a story that can touch you.

I think modern sci-fi readers are hungry for something that is both accessible and well-written. Maybe I’m wrong; maybe the market won’t give a second glance to a writer who doesn’t scream “look at what I can do!” on every page. But my gut feeling is that the book — especially as a debut novel — will do very, very well. It certainly deserves to.

Here‘s the Amazon link. Enjoy.