Cool bands don’t look at explosions.

One of my favorite bands (The Decemberists) releases their 8th full-length album this week (I’ll Be Your Girl), and I received it a few days early in the mail. After a few listens (it’ll take more to be sure), it’s safe to say that as with all their previous albums, I like it more than I don’t. Even if it isn’t their best, or my personal favorite, it’s still an album I’m glad to have.

Then I realized that this may also make them my definitive, quantitatively-provable favorite band of all time — because of those 8 albums, I like all their albums more than I don’t. Despite any small variances, there are none I would rather they had skipped, none I wouldn’t gladly put on over most other albums even in my own library (at least after removing mood from the equation). And I can only think of one, maybe two other bands for which this is true — particularly for eight albums versus two or three.

Even if there are bands I’m more passionate about, or whose one or two best albums have a vastly bigger place in my heart, by the most measurable metric, The Decemberists win out.

Which band has released the most albums you genuinely like?

Does that make them your favorite band by default?

Are you okay being someone who calls that band their favorite? 

If not, what metric is better for determining your true favorite?

Disclaimer: no wishes are granted or carpets magically flown.

In Helene Wecker’s The Golem and the Jinni, the two title characters represent different approaches to life. The former is created to serve and obey, the latter is born to roam free and unencumbered. Once separated from their masters, those opposing natures fuel an unlikely friendship and drive much of the book’s character and plot development, as two “people” figure out who they are in the world.

Frequently, after one or the other makes a mistake, causes some trouble, hurts someone, or simply isn’t sure what to do with themselves, they give the excuse, “But that’s my nature, that’s just what I am, and I can’t change that.” However, the bulk of the story involves them doing exactly that. We see them learn to accept responsibility for their actions, to control their natures. In short, they learn how to change and grow beyond what they “just are.”

All of us like to think we have free will (which… maybe not?), and that we’re in control of our choices. But who hasn’t decided not to do something “because it’s just not me,” or made an excuse for their behavior because “that’s just who I am.”

What choices you make, or things you do, have you attributed to your unavoidable, essential nature?

How often do you use that as a justification for your behavior?

What does that reasoning say about you, or any of our ability to control our lives?

Also: replace wrap-it-up music with a slowly-forward-tilting stage next to a swimming pool.

Everyone has a strong opinion about what movie was the best, or which actors put on the most convincing (or biggest) shows in their respective films.

Some of us consider ourselves film-literate enough to have opinions about screenplays or editing, or to think that Roger Deakins was robbed of his cinematography award yet again (fingers crossed for Blade Runner 2049, buddy. You deserve it!)

But with fully half the awards going to things most people have never seen (sorry short docs!), or barely understand (what’s the difference between sound mixing and editing again?), there still seem to be some glaring omissions for things that never receive recognition at all.

For example, Stephen Thompson of Pop Culture Happy Hour suggests (at 6:37 to about 7:15, below), that instead of male and female acting categories, we should do adapted and original roles. So one category for playing historical figures like Churchill or Harding, one for characters created out of thin air. This idea is incredible and should be instituted immediately.

Personally, I am angered every year that comedy is so grossly underrepresented, because writing and performing great comedy is very very hard (see: most comedy). I would suggest a category purely for Best Comedy Writing in a Film, so someone like Armando Ianucci, Kristen Wiig or Judd Apatow could finally be recognized for their indelible contributions to pop culture.

What category would you like to see added to the Oscars, and why?

Heroes they’re not. But when profits and progressive policies align… POW!

Tech companies come out against restrictive immigration laws. Disappointed CEOs abandon their seats on a national business council as the government walks away from climate accords. The normally corrupt NCAA moves a basketball tournament from a state looking to impose discriminatory bathroom laws.

More recently, large retailers have decided — of their own accord, without any law imposed upon them — to raise age minimums and stop selling military-style assault rifles. Even on a micro scale, after incidents like Charlottesville, employers have fired people after being notified of those employees’ hateful online speech.

To be fair, it’s not all rosy. Some businesses have fought for their right not to provide birth control as part of employee health insurance, or their right not to serve LGBT customers. And of course, there’s Citizens United.

But the trend does seem to be toward (most) companies coming down on the side of (mostly) progressive issues. In part, as this article reminds us, because:

Politics is competitive, but the competition is constrained—by time (e.g., elections only happen every two, four, or six years), by geography (e.g., the gerrymandering of districts), and by partisanship, in which every issue often boils down to “the other side is worse.” Many companies cannot rely on time, geography, or negative advertising to save them. Every week is a primary for a consumer brand; the global nature of business exposes companies to more rivals; and no company can thrive by making nothing and investing exclusively in hostile marketing. “Politicians assume they can wait out the outrage, but national companies have to respond to the immediacy of demand.”

So what role can corporations play in creating social change? Should they be doing this more, or less?

What issues are they best suited to affect? What issues do we want them to stay out of completely?

What pressures can people put on them to be better “citizens”?

The spikiest speech bubbles usually have the fewest strong points.

It’s a fascinating paradox: we live in a time with the easiest means to disseminate ideas that humans have ever had access to, and yet so much about the free exchange of ideas seems to be getting worse, not better. The supposed truisms simply aren’t holding up.

Many more of the most noble old ideas about free speech simply don’t compute in the age of social media. John Stuart Mill’s notion that a “marketplace of ideas” will elevate the truth is flatly belied by the virality of fake news. And the famous American saying that “the best cure for bad speech is more speech”—a paraphrase of Supreme Court justice Louis Brandeis—loses all its meaning when speech is at once mass but also nonpublic. How do you respond to what you cannot see? How can you cure the effects of “bad” speech with more speech when you have no means to target the same audience that received the original message?

This article (the whole thing is illuminating) touches on what may be the single biggest obstacle to widespread progress in today’s world. In order for an exchange of ideas, we have to be willing and able to trade beyond our (self-imposed, largely digital/media-based) borders.

Since “more speech” alone doesn’t seem to be helping… what might actually help the best ideas win out?

What changes to how our biggest platforms operate could help achieve those goals?