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9.24.06 America's Test Pitchin' -- OR -- Turnover Turnoff 
A plea to attend an anti-No Child Left Behind event. A notice about a city council meeting on affordable housing. An alert about a local environmental rally. From time to time over the past few years I've received emails about topics like this, not because I've expressed an interest in them, but because of my affiliation with a non-related apolitical operation (and one funded by taxpayers): my local public library's literacy program.
It's enough to make me wanna throw the book at 'em. Something similar happened recently when I got a note in my inbox from America's Test Kitchen, the folks behind the PBS show by the same name, and my favorite cooking mag, Cook's Illustrated. I'm used to opening email newsletters from them including recipes, discounts on their cookbooks and folksy tales of crisp-aired New England pastoral life penned by Cook's founder, Christopher Kimball, a regular Garrison Keillor of the Northeast. The other day, however, I received an email with a more political bent, labeled by ATC as the sender and signed by Kimball. "Dear Friend of America's Test Kitchen," began the missive, "I need just one minute of your time, not to sell you something, but to ask you to help out with a cause in which I believe in deeply - improving school lunches." Following a factoid about kids with diabetes, the message continued with a request to "Join Parents Against Junk Food." Evidently, Kimball started the group. Hey, don't get me wrong. I'm all for the slow food movement, and the work people like Alice Waters -- and Kimball for that matter -- are doing to promote healthy eating among the increasingly not-so-wee-ones of this country. But just because Kimball's got a beef with greasy cafeteria burgers doesn't mean I want to hear about it under the auspices of his cooking pub. Wait a minute, though. This is a worthy cause, right? PAJF has an obvious relation to food, so it makes sense for Kimball to reach out to an already established network of people who, by expressing an interest in preparing home-cooked meals, presumably are interested in healthy school lunches. Well, so what? I don't subscribe to the magazine or its email newsletter to read diatribes about the state of children's health or their midday meals. If PAJF wants to attract supporters, it ought not to do so by piggybacking on an email list established for completely separate purposes. Like most opinionated types, I support political and ideological groups with connections to topics I've touched on in countless Lowbrow Lowdown columns. Still, I refuse to let this site, which is intended as a home for light-hearted commentary on marketing, to also be a forum for promoting organizations I support, even if there's a marketing angle. Lots of websites, from online newspapers to technology trade publications, earn ad revenue by sending advertorial emails to newsletter subscribers on behalf of advertisers, but that doesn't mean the practice is appreciated or even kosher. In fact, it compels some registrants to unsubscribe from those lists all together. I won't go so far as to call ATC's pro-Parents Against Junk Food email spam, but let's just say it might go well with a side of Cook's Illustrated Pineapple Salsa.  Are you a glutton for empty calories of the verbal kind? Check out The Lowbrow Lowdown's last column: 9.6.06 Denizens of Dorkdom -- OR -- Ava Life? 
Cross an IRC featuring a debate about the MSM's disregard for the role of CGM in the Lamont primary victory, and not only do you get a bunch of annoying acronyms that are lost on most people; chances are you've stumbled upon a room full of tech-savvy political junkies. Unlike others in the genus Nerdus -- Nerdus Chesseri, Nerdus Baseballon Statisticum or Nerdus Comicata -- the Nerdus Politechnicus sometimes spends more time interacting with its counterparts in virtual settings than in real ones.
In what could represent an evolutionary milestone for the species, its members were found last Thursday in a half-empty theater, having taken on curious forms. There was the over-pumped, spiky-haired neon green guy, the mysterious alien-like wizard, and the hirsute dude sporting a "Stop Slavery" balloon. They'd all convened to see a political phony. Read the full story. Send this issue of The Lowbrow Lowdown to a friend!
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