Pay UP!

The neat thing about the video iPod is that it brings us much closer to a time when delivery is of no consequence. Is a fraction of pennies on the dollar.

And, of course, then all anyone has to compete with is content. It won't matter if you're big or small.

Already, being on independent record labels is proving no barrier to success for bands like Arcade Fire and Death Cab for Cutie. Hell, there was an article today in the Red Eye (think a Chicago Tribune lite) about The Shins; the Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs; the aforementioned bands; and a couple more I don't even remember. The playing field is so level that being on a major or an indie is as much a lifestyle choice as anything. I still hear a lot of grousing about the cliche "major label" meanies, but I can guarantee you: there has never been a better time to be a band in America! --Especially if you suck.

But we haven't even scratched the surface of what this delivery revolution means. In five minutes we're all going to be plugged into a comprehensive on-demand delivery system. It won't matter if the TV show you're watching is Desparate Housewives or some type of real life Wayne's World from real life Hammond, Indiana--it'll just be another bookmark in your browser. Watch it anytime, anywhere.

Same with music (almost already is), and movies, and probably even books.

In fact it's not too difficult to imagine a day where you'd log on to a site, click on pants in Levi's 501 cut in a certain fabric and matching jacket in a Prada cut, have them sewn and shipped to your house. And there'll be so much that marketing won't work. Quality will show and crud will go.

And then it's on. I can imagine boutique conglomerates dishing out a hybrid mix of talk shows, books, high fashion, magazines, podcasts, music videos, and movies all under their own label. All manufactured and delivered by other companies. But all created from their stable of artists. Maybe the first one will be called White Gold.

I can imagine these corporations engaging in such competition and enjoying such warm advantage over the pasturized, homoginized, processed and cool drivel that comes blasting out of Hollywood, New York, Tokyo, and London, that they charge a healthy premium.

Every artist is a monopoly. And all the "fast food" level cultural concerns are pretty well covered by existing channels.

I can imagine that upon the success of a single example of this new cultural market, say a book called The Love Artist, sold at a single retail outlet, say the Barneys in Chicago, for a significant price, say $120; that several hundred thousand of our most talented and intelligent souls would stop dead in their "trying to be creative without selling out too much but still lying down with dogs and making safe, edgy consumer stuff" tracks and get seriously interested in telling the fucking truth, following their soul's dictate, and learning how to relax.

Why?

Because it would pay!

It pays!

It pays, it pays, it pays!!

I can imagine that group developing the first several billion dollars of this new high end creative economy.

I can imagine businesses big and small paying dearly for even a whiff of this new funk. Of the real reality shows. Of reality, yo!

And starting to turn themselves inside out. Relaxing and becoming human again.

From here I can imagine almost anyone with means--the entire upper fifth of the world's population, perhaps--scrapping any notion of a conventional job then retirement and striking out to be an artist. To find their true meaning. Now that they know their kids won't have to go without food (or braces). And that they'll have more not less stable relationships once they figure out who they are and what they love to do.

And that they don't have to make a Piss Christ or out scream Marilyn Manson to get recognized or make a living. Or spill their guts cheap in front of a crowd of drunk strangers for any reason. Or go on the road twenty weeks a year just to pay their dues.

And I can imagine all the middle management jobs that will need to be filled after these folks find out how good it can be had living the creative life. How relaxing, how enjoyable, how loving it is. How much time you have. How interesting the conversations are. How warm the people are.

And I'd bet there will be a lot of institutions and employers out looking for talented and able people to fill these jobs. That would be willing to train and accomodate new employees in the traditional economy. Because the money's no good. Plenty to live on, mind you, they have to to compete for people, just nothing like the new, creative economy. And nowhere near as fun.

By then, we should have a rich, robust, mature, warm, fun, loving and diverse worldwide culture. And employment for just about everyone who wants it. Paid for not by governments, nor kings, nor non-profits, nor the landed gentry, but by we the people. The ones who want it.

The ones who use it. The ones who need it. The ones who make it.

But employment for the un- and under-employed third of the planet will just be a byproduct. Don't base your decision on that.

Base it on magazines with no ads. TV shows that speak to you, are fun, and don't have ads. Having ten movies that you'd love to see on any given weekend. Two made by friends of yours. A book that changes your life. The time to talk about all this stuff.

Base it on joy. The time to actually be in love and have the sex you know you can have.

Base it on feeling the seasons change. Actually seeing the baby's confused smile in line at the grocery store. And knowing it's for you.

Base it on beautiful clothing made from organic fabrics in time-tested cuts with colors you can feel. Shoes made by someone you know, in the style you want that can be resoled any way you'd like for 20 years.

Base it on getting to know your parents. Your neighbors. That guy who rides the wierd bike.

Do it because there's nothing else to do. And because unless we start creating and consuming fewer, more timeless, more valuable products, we'll destroy this beautiful planet.

Do it so your kids won't have to be punk rockers and try fifteen different methods of blowing their brains out to find themselves. So they'll never even consider black nail polish. So they'll have somewhere to go from day one.

No, don't even do it for that. Do it for yourself. Because it's what you've always wanted. For what feels like an eternity.

Do it because it's right in front of you.