In my journalism course here at Marquette, I am beholden to produce content for my new Weebly site. Visit my site, if you so dare.
It is pitiful. I never wanted to make it. Nor cover the Virginian-Pilot. Who cares about mainstream news? Not I.
I bit my lip and continued to write for my journalism course. A few days prior, though, I created something I am truly proud of.
That is MarquetteMotors.com. My brainchild. My life and love centered around cars, all wrapped up in a hard, candy shell. Or website.
So to turn this blog post into more of a persuasive essay, why can't I simply continue perusing a form of journalism for which I actually give a you-know-what about? It makes no sense. None whatsoever.
I recently read chapter two of JournalismNext by Mark Briggs, as per class assignment. And everything the book described were all the trials and tribulations I am now facing with MarquetteMotors. So why can't I go forth with MarquetteMotors, rather than fiddle around with a silly, user-UN-friendly, unintuitive Weebly, for which I have little care or concern?
In fact, I am learning more with my own website than I think I ever will with that silly Weebly site. And most of that information is self-taught!
I figure this comes from me actually caring about what I'm writing about...? Small wonder, Marquette.
I care about my topics, I care about being ahead of the curve, I care about producing content on a daily and thus, timely basis and most of all, I care about my readership. All of which was described by JournalismNext. So don't tell me I didn't do my homework.
Evolve, Marquette University's journalism program. Evolve.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Grating Behavior
THERE ARE FEW THINGS that irritate me as much as the idea of the American police officer. The very thought of an indignant, ignorant, presumptuous fellow who thinks he knows everything and anything about you, your situation and your intentions of that exact moment. And he is at that moment determined with every last strand in his body to give you a ticket.
I am not here to write about my horrible experience with an American police officer, however. Rather, of the threat of one.
A few hours ago today, I visited the airport where my dad flies out of to get some "track time" as I like to call it.
At the "track" I devised, there is a long straight, which leads into a sharp 90-degree right hander that goes to a wide straight so you can clip the apex and track out with out lots of exit speed. After the short straight is a wider 120-or-so-degree right hander that transitions into a Sebring-style section of large, bumpy tiles of concrete. Racy. Next is the very tight, short chicane of first gear-corners. Finally is the 180-degree corner where we started.
Ahem. So while I was busy with that and "improving" my lap times, I see a man giving me a fist in the sky as I pass Sebring corner. On the following lap, I slow down to greet the onlooker. He says, "Right on man! Keep on going!" I say, "Well I figure since there's no planes or people here, it shouldn't be a problem." He reveals to me he's a mechanic and hasn't seen any planes come in all day anyway. We talk for some more and it happens he knows my dad and he used to race motorcycles on the taxiway in Lansing. Suffice to say, he supports this behavior.
Later I see a blue Subaru BRZ. Being the opportunist that I am, I thought to invite the driver over to join in. But to no alas. He simply pulled out of his parking spot, paying no due attention to yours truly, and moved only to park somewhere else.
I drove to his car, wanting to see if I could persuade him to come by. He wasn't in the car. Pulled up to a hangar, he was probably talking to one of his long-time buddies. That brings me to another point. Everyone at this undisclosed airport somewhere in Illinois is close. So I stood out.
As I wait on Sebring corner for the blue Subaru to emerge, a white Ford Explorer approaches my car. I see an "M" precede the truck's license plate and the lettering is in green. I take this to be a sign. "Alright, he's either a cop, has cop connections or was a cop," I thought to myself.
I panicked. But in panic situations involving the law, I play cooler than I usually wish I do in retrospect.
He pulled up to my car and said "You've been driving like a jackass. I already called the cops. They're on their way." He turns his boat of a vehicle around. He follows up, "My name's Chris. You can tell your dad that."
Fuck you, Chris. From one assumption to the next, "Chris" thought he had me all figured out.
No, Chirs, you're the one in the wrong. There is literally no-fucking-place in this stupid state to drive briskly for enjoyment. Also, douchebag, all the tracks are closed for winter. I am not some off-the-street-scumbag who decided to "practice" his illegal street racing skills on a private airport. No, I am trying to become a proper racing driver. Y'know, the ones that drive on tracks? Nevermind...
As the even-more-rebellious-than-me child you probably were, you had ample opportunity to burn rubber from stoplight to stoplight in the muscle cars that you and your adolescent friends could afford. Now. America is a driving hell. With speed limits lower than my age, drivers who couldn't be more apathetic nor drive much slower or with less skill, driving on public roads blows.
Can't you sympathize with me for one measly thing? I am done with school for winter. I am dreadfully bored. There was literally no one. NO ONE. At the airport that day. Who, and for that matter, what on God's green earth was I going to hurt? There is plenty or runoff area to my track's corners, so it was even difficult to hurt myself!
So what am I to do? Let me make myself clear here. There was no one to be seen on my little track. I didn't seen a single aircraft during the time I was there and above all, if there was a motherfucking airplane coming my direction, by golly, Chris, dontcha think I'd pull over into the bleeding grass?!
I am familiar with the area. I know what to do in emergency situations. I have been coming to that airport since I was a little tike. People compliment me on how much I've grown after not seeing me for about 15 years. People know not only me and my dad here. You could say we're a part of the airport's community. It's just assholes like this that don't understand that and frankly, have too minuscule an IQ to even begin to wrap their heads around that.
After the confrontation (for which my dialogue consisted of nothing) I panicked. I drove out of the airport. "Chris" was waiting for me on the way out. I contemplated flipping him the bird. Yet I figured have too much class for that.
Then on my way back home, I realize I was tricked. It was a false threat. I played with the idea of going back and telling him straight, but I will be back with my race car. Or even tonight.
I patted myself on the back and thought, "Good job, Michael. You were the bigger person in this instance."
I decide to blog about it to relieve my stress and here we are.
I am not here to write about my horrible experience with an American police officer, however. Rather, of the threat of one.
A few hours ago today, I visited the airport where my dad flies out of to get some "track time" as I like to call it.
At the "track" I devised, there is a long straight, which leads into a sharp 90-degree right hander that goes to a wide straight so you can clip the apex and track out with out lots of exit speed. After the short straight is a wider 120-or-so-degree right hander that transitions into a Sebring-style section of large, bumpy tiles of concrete. Racy. Next is the very tight, short chicane of first gear-corners. Finally is the 180-degree corner where we started.
Ahem. So while I was busy with that and "improving" my lap times, I see a man giving me a fist in the sky as I pass Sebring corner. On the following lap, I slow down to greet the onlooker. He says, "Right on man! Keep on going!" I say, "Well I figure since there's no planes or people here, it shouldn't be a problem." He reveals to me he's a mechanic and hasn't seen any planes come in all day anyway. We talk for some more and it happens he knows my dad and he used to race motorcycles on the taxiway in Lansing. Suffice to say, he supports this behavior.
Later I see a blue Subaru BRZ. Being the opportunist that I am, I thought to invite the driver over to join in. But to no alas. He simply pulled out of his parking spot, paying no due attention to yours truly, and moved only to park somewhere else.
I drove to his car, wanting to see if I could persuade him to come by. He wasn't in the car. Pulled up to a hangar, he was probably talking to one of his long-time buddies. That brings me to another point. Everyone at this undisclosed airport somewhere in Illinois is close. So I stood out.
The actual Sunset Bend at Sebring for which one of the corners on my custom track owes its namesake.
As I wait on Sebring corner for the blue Subaru to emerge, a white Ford Explorer approaches my car. I see an "M" precede the truck's license plate and the lettering is in green. I take this to be a sign. "Alright, he's either a cop, has cop connections or was a cop," I thought to myself.
I panicked. But in panic situations involving the law, I play cooler than I usually wish I do in retrospect.
He pulled up to my car and said "You've been driving like a jackass. I already called the cops. They're on their way." He turns his boat of a vehicle around. He follows up, "My name's Chris. You can tell your dad that."
Fuck you, Chris. From one assumption to the next, "Chris" thought he had me all figured out.
No, Chirs, you're the one in the wrong. There is literally no-fucking-place in this stupid state to drive briskly for enjoyment. Also, douchebag, all the tracks are closed for winter. I am not some off-the-street-scumbag who decided to "practice" his illegal street racing skills on a private airport. No, I am trying to become a proper racing driver. Y'know, the ones that drive on tracks? Nevermind...
As the even-more-rebellious-than-me child you probably were, you had ample opportunity to burn rubber from stoplight to stoplight in the muscle cars that you and your adolescent friends could afford. Now. America is a driving hell. With speed limits lower than my age, drivers who couldn't be more apathetic nor drive much slower or with less skill, driving on public roads blows.
Can't you sympathize with me for one measly thing? I am done with school for winter. I am dreadfully bored. There was literally no one. NO ONE. At the airport that day. Who, and for that matter, what on God's green earth was I going to hurt? There is plenty or runoff area to my track's corners, so it was even difficult to hurt myself!
So what am I to do? Let me make myself clear here. There was no one to be seen on my little track. I didn't seen a single aircraft during the time I was there and above all, if there was a motherfucking airplane coming my direction, by golly, Chris, dontcha think I'd pull over into the bleeding grass?!
I am familiar with the area. I know what to do in emergency situations. I have been coming to that airport since I was a little tike. People compliment me on how much I've grown after not seeing me for about 15 years. People know not only me and my dad here. You could say we're a part of the airport's community. It's just assholes like this that don't understand that and frankly, have too minuscule an IQ to even begin to wrap their heads around that.
After the confrontation (for which my dialogue consisted of nothing) I panicked. I drove out of the airport. "Chris" was waiting for me on the way out. I contemplated flipping him the bird. Yet I figured have too much class for that.
Then on my way back home, I realize I was tricked. It was a false threat. I played with the idea of going back and telling him straight, but I will be back with my race car. Or even tonight.
I patted myself on the back and thought, "Good job, Michael. You were the bigger person in this instance."
I decide to blog about it to relieve my stress and here we are.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Facebook: A Blog Made for Babies
I am used to taking flak. I am used to being made fun of. I was essentially raised on a message board as a tween. I got yelled at constantly for nit-picky little things like how I used my Goddamn commas!
I am used to taking even the harshest, most grating criticism. If you have any criticism of me in any capacity, feel fully willing to let me know about it. I am willing to do anything I can to alter my current behavior if I see it necessary. People on Facebook, however, are different.
Facebook, I admit, is a place where people share information and the happenings of their everyday lives to a limited audience; to people they know they can trust, a.k.a. their "friends." (which Facebook decides to call them anyway).
Even still, I feel the Facebook users have far too thin a skin. None. And I mean a metric calculation of 0 Facebook users can take any criticism, flak, crap nor shit, as it were.
I say one snarky comment, and BOOM. We are no longer friends. Or I get confronted with a text informing me to delete whatever clearly sadistic thing I just let out for the world to see. I am the nadir, the bully, the "evil one" in most cases. Lighten up, people!
99% of what I say is a joke. Especially if it is followed by a winky face, smiley face, and more often than not, an ellipses.
I am sick to death of having to ask for forgiveness when the intention of my message was not earnest in the first place.
My theory then is, that peoples' brains are far too small to realize that despite whatever I wrote shows up as pixels on a backlit screen, that there is a voice that goes along with it. One that is rarely serious.
If you can just imagine my voice behind those obviously horribly cruel and wretched words I wrote on your wall, you'd then, just maybe, realize that I was never being, nor had I ever even the slightest, smallest or even tiniest intention of being serious nor perceived in a serious fashion.
Some people.
I am used to taking even the harshest, most grating criticism. If you have any criticism of me in any capacity, feel fully willing to let me know about it. I am willing to do anything I can to alter my current behavior if I see it necessary. People on Facebook, however, are different.
Facebook, I admit, is a place where people share information and the happenings of their everyday lives to a limited audience; to people they know they can trust, a.k.a. their "friends." (which Facebook decides to call them anyway).
Even still, I feel the Facebook users have far too thin a skin. None. And I mean a metric calculation of 0 Facebook users can take any criticism, flak, crap nor shit, as it were.
I say one snarky comment, and BOOM. We are no longer friends. Or I get confronted with a text informing me to delete whatever clearly sadistic thing I just let out for the world to see. I am the nadir, the bully, the "evil one" in most cases. Lighten up, people!
99% of what I say is a joke. Especially if it is followed by a winky face, smiley face, and more often than not, an ellipses.
I am sick to death of having to ask for forgiveness when the intention of my message was not earnest in the first place.
My theory then is, that peoples' brains are far too small to realize that despite whatever I wrote shows up as pixels on a backlit screen, that there is a voice that goes along with it. One that is rarely serious.
If you can just imagine my voice behind those obviously horribly cruel and wretched words I wrote on your wall, you'd then, just maybe, realize that I was never being, nor had I ever even the slightest, smallest or even tiniest intention of being serious nor perceived in a serious fashion.
Some people.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Impolite to Phone?
Why is it considered impolite to phone someone these days? Everyone seems to prefer to text over anything else. Has society gotten to the point where we deliberately avoid social contact in favor of personality-less pixels on a backlit screen? Or are texts preferred so as to supplant "real-life" social contact?
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Slow Your Roll There, Billy: In Response to Bill Caswell's "The Death Of BMW’s M Brand"
Jalopnik.com, an automotive site loved by auto enthusiasts, is not one known as a bastion of journalistic integrity. Rather, Jalopnik is usually a place where second-rate automotive journalists will write their hearts out about popculture topic A that has little, if anything to do with cars.
Perhaps it was unsavory of me to liken Jalopnik "writers" to be "second-rate," yes. But they have gone on long enough spouting absurdities. The site has no qualms "calling it as they see it." Right. As if it isn't respectful enough to say flat out that Chevy is a brand that "lies." Future journalists, take note what as to what not to do here.
What does Jalopnik stand for then? Everything they produce is done with an air of rebellion, or speaking from the "people's" point of view. They tend to bash large, corporate companies with little dignity or professionalism. Click Here to see what I mean
I'm studying to be a journalist. And while I don't yet have a degree, I know well enough to tell you not to outright disparage a potential business partner in the future. Over time, companies can change. Why chance your relationship with a big company like Bank of America? Who knows, your next paycheck could be coming from them and now wouldn't it be awfully tragic if they forgot one of your zeros?
If there's one thing I learned thus far in studying journalism is to treat everyone with respect when writing. Jalopnik presents the "news" as if a tyranny is in power. Everything is touted as if it's absolutely urgent and critical that you become an extremist/activist about the matter. No room for casual, sensible reading here. The site exists purely as if to "right" the "wrongs" of dastardly corporate America. Oh no! Hide your kids!
It's plausible that Jalopnik articles read like Stephen King novels because that's what sells: making a mountain out of a molehill, especially on slow news days, for which there are a great many in the auto industry. Like, oh, say, this one. Really, Jalopnik?
Take Top Gear, for instance. Whenever Jeremy Clarkson says a diabolically absurd comment about a car, like "the ride is as comfortable as being shot," laughter and intrigue are caused. But mostly laughter. I think that's what Jalopnik is after in their writing: absurdity so extreme as to make nearly everything newsworthy, even this. This. Or this sad excuse for a post.
Then the problem, you see, with Jalopnik is that everything posted on their glorified blog site (says me, I know) is all lauded to be 100% accurate.
As a hopeful journalist, I realize it is impossible to eliminate a writer's subjectivity. However, it is the journalist's constant objective to keep subjectivity in check. The majority of Jalopnik's "reporting" is wholly subjective. No fact-checking or verifying here. Just straight, "in-your-face extreme awesomeness." Okay, I admit, Jalopnik isn't that bad, although the website produces content that is suitable for the internet, where knee-jerk reactions, "Like" buttons, Tweets and that's-so-two-seconds-ago updates are king.
So in short, Jalopnik.com is a website for automotive enthusiasts to read hyperbolic, absurd and ill-supported claims. It's like comfort food... for people who enjoy being brainwashed.
Because there are few sites that are as savvy, provide as frequent updates or display an aptitude for the internet and its many functions as Jalopnik, it remains a well-trusted source of news for auto enthusiasts. As half (based on highly-scientific guestimation methods) of all the content on the internet is baloney, nothing matters so long as it's wrapped in a visually-appealing, well-written package. (And after saying that, who knows, maybe even that very statement is false! Who can you trust these days?!)
That last paragraph was deliberate. It was meant to show that on the internet, you can essentially get away with saying anything you so desire. Which is why if Jalopnik tried to make a magazine, they would be so encumbered financially by lawsuits, they could no longer survive.
Ahem.
The reason I'm writing this is to take offense to a little piece written by Bill Caswell. It goes like this.
Caswell's "article" takes no prisoners on BMW's M Division, something for which he clearly feels rather strong about, given his history with the brand. Even so, there is no reason to completely bash the brand. After all, if anything, BMW does still stand for front-engined, rear-wheel drive cars that have the closest 50/50 weight distributions out of any other car brand. Now that's somewhat of an anomoly today in this world of cost-cutting, soulless, mass-produced front-wheel drive cars that handle and feel like you-know what. Yet that's what sells in high numbers, so are the manufacturers (Honda, Kia, Toyota, Hyundai, Nissan and Suzuki) to blame?
The Death Of BMW’s M Brand focuses mostly on the Lime Rock Park M3 Coupe. Caswell also uses the X5M and X6M respectively as evidence to support his position as well.
It's disconcerting to see a trusted source on the internet to have a fallout with a hallmark racing brand and to use that energy to make the tens of thousands that read his article believe the same.
You see, I don't feel BMW deserved such unwarranted negative publicity in the slightest. Sure, readers should know by now how positively off-the-wall Jalopnik is with its inflammatory content, but the site consistently churns out content that is believable enough (albeit heavily slanted) and if nothing else, entertaining for how inane it is. So therefore, readers will come back. And back. And back again. Just to watch the fireworks. Nothing deserves to be taken seriously on the site. Yellow journalism is being reborn right here before our eyes.
Okay Caswell. If you want to talk about "poser" brands, I can name several that fall under that category right off the top of my head that will change your mind about BMW's "poser-ish-ness." Let's go.
Lamborghini. The cars are meant for aristocratic-types to flaunt their wealth and to be seen in public. Is there any other good reason to paint a car lime green, bright orange or highlighter yellow?
Racing pedigree? I think not. Look at the marque's spotty racing history. "Lamborghini reportedly once told Ferrari that his cars were “rubbish” and too influenced by racing designs." So why does BMW deserve all the flak now, Bill?
Bugatti. For rappers and for bedroom posters, the million-dollar-plus car manufacturer makes anything but race cars. The sub-3-second 0-60 time and racy paint of the Super Sport model may make you think otherwise, but good luck rotating the 4,162 lb (1,888 kg) pig of a car round a track. And above all, I'm sure it's the car's roughly $2.4-million-pricetag that's kept it off racetracks across the world.
Maserati. Like Bugatti, there's plenty of luxury and brute power, but not so much road-gripping performance and a successful racing record. The same could be said for the Italian brand. "Where have the good ol' days of Maserati in F1 gone?" Writer X could then continue to cry about how Stirling Moss and Juan Manuel Fangio will forever be gone and how the brand will never regain its former glory. According to Maserati's official website, the marque's last race was in 2008 and has remained a "poser" brand ever since. See Bill, I can throw that word around quite loosely too!
What's keeping you from picking on BMW's prime competitor, Mercedes, Caswell? What does their car club do? Golf outings and wine tastings are the car club's (if it can even be called such) forté. Alright, now there's nothing BMW has done that has come closer to being as poser-y as that!
And as for Benz's cars, what does the street version have to do with its DTM racing equivalent? Take the 2012 Mercedes-Benz C63 AMG Coupe, for example. It doesn't even share the same V8-powered powerplant (the DTM car has a 4.0-liter V8, while the street version has a 6.2-liter) and it weighs a massive 3900 lbs. (1772.7 kg) compared with the racecar's measly 2314.9 lbs. (1050 kg). That's a a 1,586lb.-difference for you non-math types! How is that for a poser machine?! It's meant more for businessmen to cool their heads on interstates after a stressful day at work more than it is meant as a racing machine.
The BMW M3 then, has far more in common with its racing counterpart than the 'Merc probably ever will (thanks to Mercedes insistence to value luxury as much as, if not more than performance). In a recent Road & Track feature, Tommy Milner, of Corvette Racing fame took the street E92 M3 and compared with the M3 GT.
When comparing the GT to its road-legal counterpart, Milner noted that "This car is always fun to drive. It’s an M3. In one way, it’s just like an M3 road car with slicks and a carbon-fiber body. But it’s quite a bit different in that the speeds are way higher. It feels like a street-car M3 that has been on steroids for many, many years."
According to Milner, another similarity links the street- and track-versions is that "in high-speed corners such as Turns 1, 2 and 3, just like the M3 road car." Finally, (and this couldn't be more icing-on-the-cake-ness right here) Milner said, “Both M3s are very much BMWs. And both have 50/50 weight distribution, which makes them so easy to drive. You can get in either car and immediately feel comfortable."
Let's not even get started with the JDM, scene, yo. The whole thing has been inspired by nothing more than the Fast and the Furious movies, and the drivers can be even more poser-ish. Why do Civics with no more than a poorly-installed body kit need racing harnesses? Why do Nissan Skylines need nitrous? Why do Supras need enormous, two-piece chrome wheels? These wannabes are anything but racing material. It's all for the sake of posing. None of the cars at your local meet will ever see an autocross, rallycross, let alone track.
So, mister Billy Caswell, be aware of what you're talking about before you spout such insanity. BMW is doing a hell of a lot more to keep racing alive than most manufacturers.
According to this, "BMW is deeply involved in motorsports: from the technology transfer and know-how learned on track being applied to their road cars, resulting in some of the best handling vehicles ever, to their young drivers program in Formula BMW promoting young talent and helping them enter the world of professional motorsport." There's no chance half of that could be said for, well, half of the car brands out there!
Perhaps it was unsavory of me to liken Jalopnik "writers" to be "second-rate," yes. But they have gone on long enough spouting absurdities. The site has no qualms "calling it as they see it." Right. As if it isn't respectful enough to say flat out that Chevy is a brand that "lies." Future journalists, take note what as to what not to do here.
What does Jalopnik stand for then? Everything they produce is done with an air of rebellion, or speaking from the "people's" point of view. They tend to bash large, corporate companies with little dignity or professionalism. Click Here to see what I mean
I'm studying to be a journalist. And while I don't yet have a degree, I know well enough to tell you not to outright disparage a potential business partner in the future. Over time, companies can change. Why chance your relationship with a big company like Bank of America? Who knows, your next paycheck could be coming from them and now wouldn't it be awfully tragic if they forgot one of your zeros?
If there's one thing I learned thus far in studying journalism is to treat everyone with respect when writing. Jalopnik presents the "news" as if a tyranny is in power. Everything is touted as if it's absolutely urgent and critical that you become an extremist/activist about the matter. No room for casual, sensible reading here. The site exists purely as if to "right" the "wrongs" of dastardly corporate America. Oh no! Hide your kids!
It's plausible that Jalopnik articles read like Stephen King novels because that's what sells: making a mountain out of a molehill, especially on slow news days, for which there are a great many in the auto industry. Like, oh, say, this one. Really, Jalopnik?
Take Top Gear, for instance. Whenever Jeremy Clarkson says a diabolically absurd comment about a car, like "the ride is as comfortable as being shot," laughter and intrigue are caused. But mostly laughter. I think that's what Jalopnik is after in their writing: absurdity so extreme as to make nearly everything newsworthy, even this. This. Or this sad excuse for a post.
Then the problem, you see, with Jalopnik is that everything posted on their glorified blog site (says me, I know) is all lauded to be 100% accurate.
As a hopeful journalist, I realize it is impossible to eliminate a writer's subjectivity. However, it is the journalist's constant objective to keep subjectivity in check. The majority of Jalopnik's "reporting" is wholly subjective. No fact-checking or verifying here. Just straight, "in-your-face extreme awesomeness." Okay, I admit, Jalopnik isn't that bad, although the website produces content that is suitable for the internet, where knee-jerk reactions, "Like" buttons, Tweets and that's-so-two-seconds-ago updates are king.
So in short, Jalopnik.com is a website for automotive enthusiasts to read hyperbolic, absurd and ill-supported claims. It's like comfort food... for people who enjoy being brainwashed.
Because there are few sites that are as savvy, provide as frequent updates or display an aptitude for the internet and its many functions as Jalopnik, it remains a well-trusted source of news for auto enthusiasts. As half (based on highly-scientific guestimation methods) of all the content on the internet is baloney, nothing matters so long as it's wrapped in a visually-appealing, well-written package. (And after saying that, who knows, maybe even that very statement is false! Who can you trust these days?!)
That last paragraph was deliberate. It was meant to show that on the internet, you can essentially get away with saying anything you so desire. Which is why if Jalopnik tried to make a magazine, they would be so encumbered financially by lawsuits, they could no longer survive.
Ahem.
The reason I'm writing this is to take offense to a little piece written by Bill Caswell. It goes like this.
Caswell's "article" takes no prisoners on BMW's M Division, something for which he clearly feels rather strong about, given his history with the brand. Even so, there is no reason to completely bash the brand. After all, if anything, BMW does still stand for front-engined, rear-wheel drive cars that have the closest 50/50 weight distributions out of any other car brand. Now that's somewhat of an anomoly today in this world of cost-cutting, soulless, mass-produced front-wheel drive cars that handle and feel like you-know what. Yet that's what sells in high numbers, so are the manufacturers (Honda, Kia, Toyota, Hyundai, Nissan and Suzuki) to blame?
The Death Of BMW’s M Brand focuses mostly on the Lime Rock Park M3 Coupe. Caswell also uses the X5M and X6M respectively as evidence to support his position as well.
Even Billy Auberlen's getting in on the action!
It's disconcerting to see a trusted source on the internet to have a fallout with a hallmark racing brand and to use that energy to make the tens of thousands that read his article believe the same.
You see, I don't feel BMW deserved such unwarranted negative publicity in the slightest. Sure, readers should know by now how positively off-the-wall Jalopnik is with its inflammatory content, but the site consistently churns out content that is believable enough (albeit heavily slanted) and if nothing else, entertaining for how inane it is. So therefore, readers will come back. And back. And back again. Just to watch the fireworks. Nothing deserves to be taken seriously on the site. Yellow journalism is being reborn right here before our eyes.
Okay Caswell. If you want to talk about "poser" brands, I can name several that fall under that category right off the top of my head that will change your mind about BMW's "poser-ish-ness." Let's go.
Lamborghini. The cars are meant for aristocratic-types to flaunt their wealth and to be seen in public. Is there any other good reason to paint a car lime green, bright orange or highlighter yellow?
If you haven't yet seen this video, skip ahead to the 1:30-mark and watch as Jethro Bovingdon, Car and Driver's European correspondent gets hundreds of gazes from the public. Rich people love to be seen..
Racing pedigree? I think not. Look at the marque's spotty racing history. "Lamborghini reportedly once told Ferrari that his cars were “rubbish” and too influenced by racing designs." So why does BMW deserve all the flak now, Bill?
Bugatti. For rappers and for bedroom posters, the million-dollar-plus car manufacturer makes anything but race cars. The sub-3-second 0-60 time and racy paint of the Super Sport model may make you think otherwise, but good luck rotating the 4,162 lb (1,888 kg) pig of a car round a track. And above all, I'm sure it's the car's roughly $2.4-million-pricetag that's kept it off racetracks across the world.
Birdman being "fly" next to his Bugatti Veyron. See what I did there?
Maserati. Like Bugatti, there's plenty of luxury and brute power, but not so much road-gripping performance and a successful racing record. The same could be said for the Italian brand. "Where have the good ol' days of Maserati in F1 gone?" Writer X could then continue to cry about how Stirling Moss and Juan Manuel Fangio will forever be gone and how the brand will never regain its former glory. According to Maserati's official website, the marque's last race was in 2008 and has remained a "poser" brand ever since. See Bill, I can throw that word around quite loosely too!
What's keeping you from picking on BMW's prime competitor, Mercedes, Caswell? What does their car club do? Golf outings and wine tastings are the car club's (if it can even be called such) forté. Alright, now there's nothing BMW has done that has come closer to being as poser-y as that!
And as for Benz's cars, what does the street version have to do with its DTM racing equivalent? Take the 2012 Mercedes-Benz C63 AMG Coupe, for example. It doesn't even share the same V8-powered powerplant (the DTM car has a 4.0-liter V8, while the street version has a 6.2-liter) and it weighs a massive 3900 lbs. (1772.7 kg) compared with the racecar's measly 2314.9 lbs. (1050 kg). That's a a 1,586lb.-difference for you non-math types! How is that for a poser machine?! It's meant more for businessmen to cool their heads on interstates after a stressful day at work more than it is meant as a racing machine.
Sporty, yes, but this Merc could really lose a few pounds!
The BMW M3 then, has far more in common with its racing counterpart than the 'Merc probably ever will (thanks to Mercedes insistence to value luxury as much as, if not more than performance). In a recent Road & Track feature, Tommy Milner, of Corvette Racing fame took the street E92 M3 and compared with the M3 GT.
Do you ever wonder if he's getting too old to be called "Tommy?"
When comparing the GT to its road-legal counterpart, Milner noted that "This car is always fun to drive. It’s an M3. In one way, it’s just like an M3 road car with slicks and a carbon-fiber body. But it’s quite a bit different in that the speeds are way higher. It feels like a street-car M3 that has been on steroids for many, many years."
"It's an M3."
According to Milner, another similarity links the street- and track-versions is that "in high-speed corners such as Turns 1, 2 and 3, just like the M3 road car." Finally, (and this couldn't be more icing-on-the-cake-ness right here) Milner said, “Both M3s are very much BMWs. And both have 50/50 weight distribution, which makes them so easy to drive. You can get in either car and immediately feel comfortable."
There are those who have BMWs and wish they had one.
Let's not even get started with the JDM, scene, yo. The whole thing has been inspired by nothing more than the Fast and the Furious movies, and the drivers can be even more poser-ish. Why do Civics with no more than a poorly-installed body kit need racing harnesses? Why do Nissan Skylines need nitrous? Why do Supras need enormous, two-piece chrome wheels? These wannabes are anything but racing material. It's all for the sake of posing. None of the cars at your local meet will ever see an autocross, rallycross, let alone track.
Dang, yo, that's so cool... yo.
So, mister Billy Caswell, be aware of what you're talking about before you spout such insanity. BMW is doing a hell of a lot more to keep racing alive than most manufacturers.
According to this, "BMW is deeply involved in motorsports: from the technology transfer and know-how learned on track being applied to their road cars, resulting in some of the best handling vehicles ever, to their young drivers program in Formula BMW promoting young talent and helping them enter the world of professional motorsport." There's no chance half of that could be said for, well, half of the car brands out there!
Every time you try to defy this brand, it will only come to bite you in the butt! Be wise with your words and respect every possible business partner for the future! Here's to the Bavarian company that will prove its skeptics wrong time, and time again!
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Electric Daisy Carnival 2012: Las Vegas
After hearing of my friend's experiences at EDC Las Vegas this year, I'm being convinced more and more to get my own slice of the action at Lollapalooza. After all, should I go, this will be my first Lolla!
So, if you'd like to re-live EDC yourself, download these free recordings from the Las Vegas Motor Speedway! And these (as I'm told) were all spectacular sets, so you will be anything but disappointed!
So, if you'd like to re-live EDC yourself, download these free recordings from the Las Vegas Motor Speedway! And these (as I'm told) were all spectacular sets, so you will be anything but disappointed!
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Forza: Horizon, Stuck between a Rock and a Hard Place
Here's the most in-depth preview I've found of Forza: Horizon that was shown off at this year's E3.
Horizon will, for better or worse, make the Forza series annual at least until 2013's expected Forza Motorsport 5. I have a theory that follows most annualized franchises. That is, if Forza: Horizon sees relative success, publisher Microsoft Game Studios will become increasingly greedy year-by-year (an unfortunate trend we're seeing more and more) and not take a year off until sales slow or halt altogether.
The reception of the comments I've seen below various YouTube videos have been generally very positive. Here's another game publisher taking advantage of the mainstream fans. I say that meaning, the more "hardcore" fans will not find an incremental release like this worth their time or money and therefore, spend their time in more worthwhile simulation games.
Hearing Playground Games' Ralph Fulton say that Horizon will have the "same simulation that underpins Forza 4" and that they've "made changes to car set ups, suspension set ups, to make that kind of maneuvering [weaving in and out of traffic] easier" made me tremendously disappointed. It appears Playground Games is after the same action that open-world Burnout and Need for Speed series games have already perfected.
Omitting the "Motorsport"from the game title presumably means fans will not be able to drive on tracks, limiting this game to public roads. What will set this apart as a true Need for Speed Most Wanted contender, or another paper-thin copycat will be the road design. If the public roads featured in the game can prove varied, infinitely replayable and fun in both directions, Playground Games will have a true winner on their hands.
After watching this Need for Speed Most Wanted gameplay footage for the first time, I found myself asking, "Why would anyone want to play an open-world Forza when this is coming out?" An appropriate analogy would be, do you want a game that happened to throw in short cuts and jumps, or do you want a game that was deliberately designed from the onset with jumps, boost, ramps, police chases, takedowns and more?
The main problem I see with Forza: Horizon is that it's straddling a middle ground so much. Even to a greater extent than Project Gotham ever did. At a certain point, I just really want Playground Games to just decide what direction they're going to head. If Playground Games did so, the game would be less of a compromise between simulation and arcade worlds and rather than seeing a toned-down arcade game with a simulation back-end, we could see a totally in-your-face, ridiculously-fun arcade game.
How can you have "Forza 4 underpinnings," yet what sounds like nerf the car control for noobs vis-à-vis "car set ups" and "suspension set ups"? The two just don't go together and it sounds like a surefire recipe for disaster.
From my perspective, Forza is all about the difficulty and how that translates to a real car. I play Forza 4 for example, with all the assists turned off and everything to the highest difficulty. I enjoy fighting for grip with the car, and barely winning a Forza race can be of the most thrilling game experiences I've had. So there's my nerd card.
Forza 4 was a great improvement in terms of tire dynamics and car physics, although I find Turn 10 Studios dropped the ball when it comes to front-wheel drive cars and mid-engined cars. It's as if Turn 10 explicitly picked favorites and made all FR (front-engine, rear-wheel drive) cars handle like a dream, while all other cars don't quite hit the mark. It's great from my perspective because my favorite real-world cars are all FR. But let's not forget that Forza is supposed to be a simulation, right?
On that point about it being a simulation, Forza 4's AI is anything but. The AI opponents are overly aggressive, bumper cars that will run you off the road at any cost. The starting grid is a mess, good luck getting through. I find that if I want to beat the game, I'll have no choice but to lower the difficulty to medium. Ugh, the horror!
Unlike the "Motorsport" Forza games, it appears Forza: Horizon's main emphasis will be on car festivals, for which drivers will meet up and race. (Honestly, they look like higher res Need for Speed: Underground 2 races).
New to the series, Forza: Horizon will feature dynamic day-night cycles, something that was sorely missing in the past two Forza games. Yet, I imagine Horizon will not include dynamic weather, which means another +1 for Gran Turismo fans.
I've become jaded expecting the unexpected with Forza games, and unfortunately, I don't think Horizon will be much different. With Forza 4, I was expecting to be wowed with new courses, weather, day-night cycles, new terrain, and cars, but really, none of those things came to pass. Forza 4 was really just a better looking and handling Forza 3, with three or four new courses thrown in, in case a 2009 game didn't warrant a $60 pricetag in 2011.
Don't expect many surprises with this title, which is why I'm lowering my expectations. I'm expecting Horizon to be a Forza 4 dropped into a new setting and that's about it. Sadly, game developers seem to be willing to give their titles less development time and attention for ultimately fewer, but more yearly sales. It seems like this is a temptation fewer and fewer developers can resist these days, what with pirating and illegal torrenting of their hard work. Maybe having a big title every two years isn't a big enough splash to keep dinner on Dan Greenawalt's table?
At this point, Playground Games still has yet to prove themselves. According to their own website, Playground-Games.com, Forza Horizon is their "debut title." However, just as with any developer I'm equally as skeptical and questioning just as much how close Playground Games will get tot their vision of Forza: Horizon.
Düsseldorf, Germany: Day 11
One word that could summarize this day would be: aftermath.
I barely emerged from my bed with a headache, (what felt like a) fever, a cold (hence, shivers) and a stomach ache. Not once did I vomit, for which I thank my enormous apetite and generously-sized dinner before going out on that faithful Wednesday night.
I woke up at about six or seven in the afternoon following a 6AM bedtime. Sensible.
I didn't really wake up myself, actually. I was woken up to the voice of my host mother calling me for dinner. DINNER?! But I just woke up!
I complied and came downstairs with my still-dirty-from-the-night-before-but-not-really-dirty-but-just-smelly shorts and the plain white t-shirt I wore underneath my Abercrombie button down that helped me blend into the German public's very American taste in clothing. (Not very difficult)
I felt like crap. Neglected to put my contacts in and felt sick all over. I could barely comprehend the course of the conversation led by my host mother and her daughter.
All I remember is going to bed almost as soon as we finished dinner and not much else happened that day.
I thought with agony about the next day of school I'd have to go to.
I thought with agony about the next day of school I'd have to go to.
Nicht mein stolzsten Tag während dieser Trip!
Düsseldorf, Germany: Day 10
After a truly long hiatus (yes, I realize this) I'm here to tell you about my experiences in Germany! Homework, sleeping, food, friends and working out (usually in that order) come before this blog!
I began this day like I did any day at 7:30 and went to class. During our 30-minute break splitting our 4-hour class, a number of my classmates asked me if I wanted to go out that night with then given there was a holiday going on the following day. I complied, thinking "Hey, of course, I'd love to socialize and get to know more people!"
After returning from class, I took my daily nap. (And I swear, there's something thoroughly screwed up with my sleep schedule because I always seem to need to nap to offset my nightly sleep: whether it's at home, college or Germany!)
I was invited by my friends to come to the Altstadt with them at 8:00pm. I prioritized extra nap time and a large, improvised dinner, assuming it was going to be a long and "fun" night. I was very right on both accounts.
Instead, I met them outside the Heinrich-Heine McDonald's at 10pm. There, I was introduced to a couple of Erasmus University students from France.
Only some of the great people I hung out with that night.
More shenanigans ensues.
From there, we went straight to a nearby art museum to mingle. My friend Hendra, was steadfast in filling Marlon and my cups with vomit-inducing 13€ vodka as soon as we took even the slightest of sips. Predictably, good times ensued and disgusting flavors overwhelmed our taste buds.
Time passed, and we were soon on our way to a club. The enormous line surrounding the outside of the club served to separate our massive party as Jooho and I went to the famous black wall to drain our bladders.
As we went back to the line, our friends were no where to be found. Jooho tried to call them, but it was no use.
We waited patiently in the line leading to the strobe-lit club for about an hour or two. While in line I met an array of people from Germany and one from France. After a brief conversation with a fat, drunken man who when he discovered I was from the 'States said roughly, "Hitler is dead. Tell everyone you know." He also suggested I don't go to the club. I took everything he said with the tiniest grain of salt, yet played off everything he said as plausible and continued to nod.
By the time he had finished elaborating on his wily ideas to me, it was about time to get into the club. Then finally, after all that anticipation and waiting, the bouncer looks at my legs for a millisecond and tells me I can't go because I'm wearing shorts. A girl in line next to me about my age convinces the burly, bald dude and I get in! (A middle-aged couple notice my jacket and the woman starts talking to me about BMWs! It's crazy how friendly Germans are during the weekend!)
I walk in with the girl who got me in and her friends and one of them asks me to take their picture. I do so and after that, cluelessly look around for my friends. It was to no avail, and I tell the four girls my situation. One of them asked me if I wanted to come dance with them. I comply and I dance with them in a circle. Careless whether I embarrass myself, I pull off all the moves I could think of.
More pictures are taken, and I'm even asked to take a picture with two of the girls! I told them "Ich fühle mich so einschließend!" (I feel so included) as a hand wrapped around my neck and we posed for Facebook.
The exact "I feel so included" picture. Marle and Juliette, thank you!
During the course of our dancing, I am reluctant to trust my German (even though I should have) because of the volume of the music. One of the girls, Marle did her best to communicate with me in English over the pounding beats. She asks me where my friends are, and I tell her "I'm having more fun with you guys, can I stay?" She says yes, but still urges me to look for my friends. They're no where to be found and I return to the group.
Sometime after the three girls leave, there's just one of the girls, Juliette and myself. We retreat to the entrance of the club so we can talk more clearly. She orders a water from the bar for [imaginably] some absurd price and offers me half of it. I was as gracious as I was parched and said, "Für mich? Aber ich bin ein unbekannte Person!" (For me? But I'm a stranger to you!) I was astounded at her generosity to reach out to someone she may never meet again and offer half of her water that I'm sure she'd otherwise gladly slurp down alone!
I turn on the 3G and Roaming settings on my phone, aware of how much they cost and of the potential "emergency" situation I could find myself. I opt to use my phone, log onto Facebook and find my friend Hendra sent me a message saying, "my turkish and arabisch friends is not allowed inside man...that;s fucked up..i'm fed up...I am allowed inside but i cannot just leave them out.. I am gonna accompany them... freakin' racist man the bouncer."
I show Juliette the message and we head out. We walk outside, looking for her bike speaking Germanish, as she's trying to accomodate me by speaking in English and I'm trying to do the same in German.
We find her bike and I ask her where the train station is. She points right down the street, I thank her for everything, we hug and we're off in our separate directions. Oh and it's 5AM.
As I'm walking to the Heinrich-Heine McDonald's (which surprisingly are supremely popular meet-up spots and lunch places in Germany) that's right next to the U-Bahn station, a man stops me. Again, asking me about my jacket. We start a conversation, and like all my conversations, we ultimately get on the topic that I'm from the USA. He tells me of relatives he has and experiences he has about and in the land of the free. We exchange Facebook information, and I embark on the first leg of my trip home.
After the U-Bahn and later, S-Bahn rides home, I stumble the dirt path that circumvents a horse ranch I walk every day to school in an eerily-lit sky. As I reach my guest family's door, my guest mother greets me at the door, who has come home equally late. At this hour, it's roughly 5:40 and I brush my teeth as quietly and as briskly as I can image.
I lie in bed for only moments before I fell asleep. But before I fell fast asleep, I recollected all the incredible people I met that day.
Mein Gott!
Friday, June 15, 2012
The All-New Mercedes A45 AMG
The all-new Mercedes A45 AMG. Commence drooling.
It's quite good looking, but in typical Mercedes fashion, it does everything wrong for me: it's heavy, it's expensive and it features some new goofy transmission that rules your gear selection more than Terminator would with a gun to your head.
It will supposedly weigh less than 1,500kg. But 1,500kg is a lot! Certainly light for a Mercedes, but I'm tired of making these qualifiers! This is the precise reason Mercedes owners' clubs take trips to the golf course rather than the race track.
In the back of virtually every Mercedes engineer's head is the desire to put a higher emphasis on luxury over performance. And when they want performance, luxury is the last thing they'll sacrifice, after fuel economy, the stereo and a quiet exhaust note have all been thrown out the window.
For me, a "real" car fan (argue what you will what that entails), but in short, I love lightweight, manual-transmission sports cars with rear-wheel drive. This car is none of those. Nor is it expected to be cheap. It's estimated to cost anywhere from $55,009.50 to $62,868.00. However it's worth noting these figures were achieved after a Pound-to-Dollars conversion. I'm even skeptical this thing's even going to come to the 'States.
All that means one less douchebag with an undeserved sense of self-fulfillment for owning a car well above his own driving ability and despite this, thinks he's an F1 driver thanks to the car he drives. In our country, anyway.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)