return of the grievous angel

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about online review sites and it got me thinking. Regular readers of my other blog (all four of you) may recall a post from 2019 about featured "Dead Celebrity" Gram Parsons. Gram, a singer, songwriter and one-time member of the psychedelic-folk band The Byrds, was a pioneer in what has come to be known as the "alt-country" music genre. What started out as an account of the harrowing, now-infamous episode surrounding Gram's death and the fate of his remains, turned into another example of why I love reading reviews on Trip Advisor and why I love the internet. Here's the story, as it appeared on December 13, 2019....

In the summer of 1973, while attending the funeral of Clarence White, a musical colleague and member of the country-rock band The Kentucky Colonels, Gram Parsons, the singer-songwriter-guitarist who was influential in the "alt-country genre," instructed his friend and manager Phil Kaufman to cremate his body at Joshua Tree National Park when his time came. He wanted his ashes spread at the Cap Rock site at the park, which was a favorite spot of the singer. Little did he know that time would come just a few months later. In September, Gram Parsons overdosed on morphine and alcohol in Room 8 of the Joshua Tree Inn. 

In a series of clumsy, ill-conceived incidents, Kaufman intercepted Gram's body at the Los Angeles Airport (in a stolen hearse) and drove it back to Joshua Tree to fulfill the singer's last wishes. However, nearby campers reported the heavy smoke from the make-shift "cremation." The remains were retrieved and Phil was arrested a few days later. He was fined $750 for the theft of the coffin. (At the time, there were no laws on the books regarding the theft of a corpse.) What was left of Gram's body was returned to his stepfather for a burial in New Orleans, which was later revealed to be an ulterior motive in order to lay claim to Gram's chunk of a family inheritance. 

When I was doing research for this story, I stumbled upon a number of reviews on Trip Advisor for the Joshua Tree Inn, which is still in operation. The hacienda-style hotel is situated on a desolate stretch of Twentynine Palms Highway in the Mojave Desert, just north of Palm Springs and offers homey accommodations for visitors to the national park, as well as rock and roll curiosity seekers. The infamous Room 8 is available for those who need a personal connection to Gram Parsons. The room is marked with a guitar-shaped sculpture outside. The interior, however, is completely redecorated, save for a large mirror that management notes: "where Gram Parsons saw the last glimpse of himself." How eerie. 

The Trip Advisor website is a source of valuable information, in addition to being unintentionally entertaining. Personally, I love to browse the "terrible" reviews* given to hotels by angry guests looking for an outlet to vent their frustrations of a "less than satisfactory" lodging experience. A few years ago, while searching for a hotel in Anaheim, California, I read a review for a particular establishment that, along with the usual complaints about cleanliness and service, claimed the place was haunted. I began to read the current reviews for the Joshua Tree Inn, narrowing the criteria to only those in the "Terrible" category. The filter yielded twelve reviews. As I read, I noticed that a member of the hotel's staff had left a response to nearly every review, addressing the concerns and complaints noted in each. While the hotel doesn't have the capability to remove a bad review, it is offered a platform for rebuttal and clarification. 

 

In 2012, a disgruntled traveler from Atlanta, Georgia levied a "terrible" review against the Joshua Tree Inn. They began their assessment by saying that they should have opted to stay at the Holiday Inn Express down the street. Then, they laid into the place, complaining about the out-of-date décor and the "brick-hard" mattress that also squeaked. They mentioned the paper-thin walls, allowing guests to hear everything that was going on in adjoining rooms. They went on to gripe about the thermostat, the bathroom lighting and even the complementary breakfast, which they described as "a half jug of milk and some old bagels." They did, however, praise the landscaping, specifically the lovely and fragrant lilacs that are planted throughout the property. On the whole, the review was scathing. Although there are 134 "Excellent" reviews, one would think twice about staying at the Joshua Tree Inn after reading this. 

 

A month after the Atlanta traveler unleashed his venomous diatribe, "jtinn," identified as the Joshua Tree Inn's "Guest Relations Manager," offered this reply:

Mistaken identity. Review is not of the Joshua Tree Inn. We do not have bagels or jugs of milk, or lilacs, or noisey [sic] beds There is no Holiday Inn Express down the road. Nor have we had a couple from Atlanta, Ga. in April or anytime this year. Clearly you have confused us with an inn in 29 Palms.

The 29 Palms Inn is 16 miles away from the Joshua Tree Inn. It is also a hacienda-style hotel with a big, identifying sign out front. It has a similar variety of good and bad reviews on Trip Advisor. Maybe the folks from Atlanta were taking their "Gram Parsons" pilgrimage a bit too seriously and dipped into the hallucinogens. 

* Trip Advisor has five categories of user ratings: Excellent, Good, Average, Poor and Terrible.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

this is my cayman review

After many trips to Walt Disney World in Florida, my family and I decided to venture out to the west coast and see what Disneyland was all about. When we planned vacations to Florida, my wife and I were already pretty familiar with the accommodations that were available in our price range in Central Florida. We had gotten information from travel agents or friends who had taken similar trips or just from scouting around the area on trips that we had previously taken. We were familiar with the tourist-y areas and with various hotel chains. Of course, we had our share of bad experiences (referenced in this post), but they only served to narrow our list of possible choices on subsequent visits.

When we began making plans for our California vacation, we had a new resource available to us — the internet. Yessir! The good old Information Superhighway, chockful of all sorts of information to make planning a trip a veritable breeze. No longer were the services of a travel agent required. Just log on to a hotel chain website and booking a room could be accomplished from the convenience of your home while wearing pajamas. Then, click on over to Disney's website and purchase admission tickets. Other amenities, like a rental car or admission to side trips, could be secured in much the same manner. As time went on and technology advanced at lightning speed, websites like Expedia and Travelocity and dozens more were popping up, consolidating all of these actions and all making vacation plans so simple that anyone could serve as their own travel agent.

Along with ease and convenience, another aspect of vacation planning became available — reviews and recommendations. Websites like Yelp and Trip Advisor offered potential travelers honest reviews from fellow travelers — people just like you. Folks who visited particular hotels were encouraged to leave a review of their experience, whether good or bad. These reviews were meant to be helpful to other people in choosing accommodations based on the experiences of Mr. and Mrs. Average American Vacationer. So, when I was deciding which Anaheim California hotel would be our home for the five days and four nights we would spend at Disneyland, I read reviews for many hotels in the area.

Oh  boy!

First, I read just the positive reviews of a number of chain hotels (Best Western, Comfort Inn, Holiday Inn), all within walking distance of the theme park. "Wonderful," "Clean," "Warm and welcoming" was the general consensus for these establishments. Then I started to read the negative reviews for the same time period. "Horrible!," "Staff is rude," "Filthy!" read a few. How could some people have had good experiences and others hellish experiences within the same week of stay? The more I read, the more entertained I was by these reviews. I had forgotten that I set out to book a hotel room for a family trip to Disneyland. Instead, I became focused on these harrowing tales of horrendous experiences that these poor families were subjected to. In a flurry of colorful language, one poor reviewer told of giant insects, brown water from the faucets, burns on the carpet, leaking ceilings, unidentified stains on the bed sheets and a staff that chose to ignore their complaints. Another spoke of "unpleasant smells" and "loud noises outside the room." However, a subsequent post, time-stamped just a few days after two I just read, spoke glowingly about the sparkling cleanliness of the room, the bountiful free breakfast, the big bowl of fresh fruit at the front desk and the lovely, friendly, professional employees. Could all these reviews be about the same place? Did they clean up their act and ditch their entire workforce in the time between when these comments were written? How could that possibly be?

I read on. Things got more interesting.

One reviewer of the independent Candy Cane Inn, a longtime and popular neighbor of Disneyland right there on Harbor Boulevard, complained about his room being haunted. "As I lay in my bed," he wrote, "I saw cabinets open and close. I heard strange noises and saw furniture move. I packed my stuff up and immediately demanded a refund. Will never stay again." Another recent visitor to the same hotel gushed about the stellar accommodations and the attentive staff, noting that the Candy Cane Inn is her "go-to" place when in the Anaheim area. We actually ended up staying in a Best Western across the street from Disneyland. A review I read, while offering glowing praise, pointed out that the lines delineating parking spaces in the lot were particularly narrow. Well, indeed they were. It was very difficult to open the doors and exit our rental car if there was another car parked on either side. Otherwise, the place was very nice.

Over the years, I have used Yelp and Trip Advisor as a guide in choosing accommodations for vacation destinations other that a Disney resort. Recently, Mrs. Pincus and I went to Jamestown, New York and stayed at a very nice La Quinta Hotel that was in a pretty shitty neighborhood. The hotel itself was brightly lit when we pulled into the parking lot at nearly one in the morning. We were greeted by a number is unsavory looking folks just sort-of hanging around the otherwise deserted lot. But, once we checked in, the room was nice and clean. The following morning, the lobby was bustling with guests enjoying the free breakfast, as advertised on the La Quinta website. In the daylight hours, the shady element had retreated, only to return once evening arrived. I covered all of this in the review I wrote when we got home. No other review had mentioned anything similar to our experience. 

A few weeks later, Mrs. P and I headed to New Haven, Connecticut. I booked a room at another La Quinta, having been satisfied by the one in Jamestown (well, the hotel anyway) and expecting a chainwide consistency. I briefly read some online reviews, but could not come to any solid conclusion. Some were good. Some were bad. Well, when we arrived, the area looked to be very unappealing. This La Quinta had seen better days. The building was sun-bleached and old. It was surrounded by several fenced-in yards filled with rusty industrial equipment and machinery. There was a seemingly-closed restaurant attached to the main building that lit up with life at nightfall. The nearly-empty parking lot became packed with cars, bringing folks — dressed to the nines — who filed in and out the restaurant. The staff inside the La Quinta were uninformed when asked about check-out times and travel distances to nearby attractions. And their advertised free breakfast (a staple of the La Quinta chain) was a paper bag with an apple, a granola bar and a room temperature yogurt. None of this was in any review I read.... but it probably should have been. That would have been helpful.

I decided that reviews on Yelp and Trip Advisor for hotels (and I suppose restaurants, bars and anything else) are just there as a writing exercise for people hoping to be considered for an college scholarship. Or perhaps they are all budding horror novelists.

Or maybe they are just doing this to entertain me.

www.joshoincusiscrying.com

say goodbye to hollywood

I love the "Golden Age" of Hollywood. I am a big fan of  the Turner Classic Movies cable channel. I am fascinated by the scandals of the movie business circa 1930s through 1950s. I savored each and every salacious, albeit equivocal, page of Hollywood Babylon, Ken Anger's sleazy collection of tales from Tinsel Town's seedy underbelly. And, of course, you know about my unnatural obsession with dead celebrities. So, when Mrs. Pincus and I came across Hollywood, a new limited series that just premiered on Netflix this week, we anxiously dove right in.

First blood.

In 2018, multi-award winning "triple threat" Ryan Murphy, the driving force behind the recent hits Glee and American Horror Story, signed a five-year deal with Netflix, setting a record as the most lucrative development deal in television history. Hollywood is the first entry in fulfilling his contract obligations. I have not seen an episode of Glee, but, based on what little bit I have seen and heard, I was not the target audience. As a longtime fan of the horror genre, I watched the first episode of Season Four of American Horror Story: Freak Show. I found it sprawling, unnecessarily atmospheric and tedious in its storytelling. I don't think I even finished watching the full hour. Oh wait, I did... because I remember angrily snapping off the TV when Jessica Lange began anachronistically singing David Bowie's 1971 hit "Life on Mars" during a scene set in 1952. I relented and gave the series another chance. I watched the sixth season of American Horror Story. This one concerned weird goings-on near the site of the mysterious 16th Century Roanoke Colony. I watched all ten episodes and hated every one.

Redemption.

The following year, the Fox Network touted a new limited series from the mind and pen of Ryan Murphy. This one was based on the storied rivalry between two of Hollywood's most iconic actresses — Joan Crawford and Bette Davis, and appropriately entitled Feud. Being a sucker for this type of thing, my wife and I watched... and we loved it. It was trashy and mindless with over-the-top performances from Susan Sarandon and Ryan Murphy regular Jessica Lange. When it was over, we didn't want to to end. I concluded that Ryan Murphy is the "Stephen King of TV trash." (Where as Stephen King is the "Stephen King of movie trash.") Murphy, like King, writes great "middles" of stories. He just doesn't know how to end them, so the endings seem rushed, usually falling flat on its face and well short of expectations. However, Feud worked. Maybe because this story was already written for him... with an actual ending. Murphy was able to concentrate on the tawdry details to embellish an existing story and not be bothered with how to wrap the whole thing up. It was predetermined by the source material.

We're okay now.

Admittedly, I had some trepidation about investing time in to watching Hollywood. I am not really a fan of the majority of Ryan Murphy's work. But the synopsis of Hollywood was compelling. So, we decided to give the first episode a trial viewing. If we liked it, we'd continue. Well, we liked it and continued. Actually, we plowed through all seven episodes in two consecutive evenings. We really liked it. And, frankly, what was not to like? It was trashy, garish, gaudy and — surprisingly — well acted. The actors — a great blend of veteran talent and up-and-comers — were all thoughtfully cast.  The sets and production were meticulous and stellar. The storytelling was typical intertwined "soap opera," but that's what drew us in.

On Saturday, we watched the first four installments. Afterwards, my wife and I cautiously read some comments on various social media outlets, careful to avoid any spoilers. I was surprised by the mostly negative reactions I read. So, I stopped reading, deciding to watch the remaining episodes before passing a full judgment. On Sunday, Mrs. P and I wrapped up the series. We really enjoyed it.

Hollywood is piece revisionist history. I don't think that a good portion of the viewing audience understood that. I think it was presented as a work of "historical fiction," with real historical people mixed with and interacting with made-up characters. Based on a lot of the comments that I read, the concept was not apparent enough to those who expected something different. At first, I was bothered by some historical inaccuracies, but once I "got it," I was more forgiving with the liberties that were taken.

Alongside the comments from folks who missed the concept, were angry rants from those who were going to be offended by Hollywood. Hollywood indeed had a message. Those who were offended by the manner in which the message was presented were going to be offended no matter what. They wanted to be offended. They tuned in to be offended and they were not going to be disappointed. Perhaps they also missed the concept of "revisionist history." Or perhaps they just don't want someone else speaking for them, even if they share the same ideals.

I cannot speak for anyone but myself. I enjoyed Hollywood. It was not the greatest story ever told. It was pure, mindless entertainment. It was not a documentary, nor was I expecting it to be. If the successes and failures, injustices and righteousness, highs and lows of Hollywood strike a chord with you... or if you just want to be entertained, give Hollywood a chance... and draw your own conclusion.

Don't take it from me.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

tell me something good

I entered the working world a little over thirty years ago, when I graduated from art school. I worked in a small composition house for a while, then another small composition house, then another and another. After nearly ten years, I landed a job in the corporate world — the sterile land of cubicles and departments and a multi-tier system of management hierarchy. It was a far cry from just me and a typesetter doing paste-up and taking turns making coffee. It was structured and regimented and everyone knew his or her place and set of responsibilities. I did however come to appreciate the corporate atmosphere — its rules and its protocol — and I eventually found it pretty amusing.

In my first job, my boss was the owner of the business. She was very nice, but clueless when it came to design. I guess that's why she hired me and she seemed pretty pleased with my work. Over the five years that I worked for her, I was awarded several increases in salary, although not with any regularity. Desktop publishing was just coming into fashion, but it was becoming the industry standard at a lightning pace. The small composition house had become a dinosaur in a short five years and, sadly, closed. (Even more sadly, they closed while I was on vacation.) 

At my next job, my supervisor left on maternity leave, never to return. I took it upon myself to do her work, as the other idiots in that place would have banged into the walls without any sort of guidance. Based on the amount of extra work I was doing, I asked the owner for an increase in salary. The owner hesitated, hemmed and hawed and finally replied, "No one got raises this year." I corrected her, clarifying that I was not asking for a raise for everyone. I was just asking for me." She said she would consider it. My next paycheck included the slimmest of increases and I promptly went on the search for another job.

I dove head first into the corporate world when I was hired to do layout for a national publisher of legal periodicals. For the first time in my career, a computer would be my sole piece of work equipment. My primary responsibility was the layout and production of 45 newsletters — some monthly, some weekly. My work was assessed by my boss annually and I was given an increase in salary accordingly. Such is the way, I would come to understand, in the corporate world.

I eventually left that job (participating in that other corporate ritual — the "exit interview") and soon found myself in the marketing department of a large, after-market auto parts corporation whose mascots are three cartoon guys, one of whom smoked a cigar until 1990.* Once again, my progress and accomplishments were annually reviewed by my superior. After a couple of years, the novelty of the review process wore thin. I found out that, based on an edict from the executive powers above, managerial staff was expected to be extra critical of employees in their review, sometimes required to make up faults and setting unreachable goals to show that there is no such thing as a "perfect employee."

At review time, I was usually very busy and under tight deadlines. Any break in my daily routine would set my work behind schedule. So, when my boss announced that it was time for my review, I said, "Look, I'm really busy. How about I save us both some time. I'll tell you what you're gonna tell me, okay? I'm a hard worker and a conscientious worker. I'm opinionated and I've got a big mouth. Anything you'd like to add?" He looked at me. He looked at the printed pages in his hand. "Nope," he said, "that just about covers it." He went back to his office and I went back to my actual work.

Where the magic happens.

I have been at my current job for eight years. I have had the same boss for eight years. She knows me pretty well — my strengths, my weaknesses, my quirks and, most important, all of my schtick. I guess she knows me very well. Just this year, my sub-department (how's that for "corporate-speak?") has been shuffled and rearranged and whittled down to my boss and me. So, when review time came, I lumbered into my boss's office. She sarcastically said, "Okay. Let's get this bloodbath over with." I replied, "Seriously, what are you gonna tell me that you haven't already told me in eight years?" I silently read the printed assessment of my achievements over the past year. We discussed my job for approximately three minutes and then "bullshitted" for the next twenty. The corporate world requires that she submit a detailed review of her employee's performance. Whatever.

My raise kicks in Friday.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com


* Have you figured out which company I'm talking about?