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Tag: 90s kid

  • A Self-Critique, or: Why Principles and Business Always Collide

    A Self-Critique, or: Why Principles and Business Always Collide

    …and Commerce Always Wins.

    Wear Sunscreen

    Right now, it’s very hot in Germany. Hotter than ever before since meteorological records began. And there is a scientific consensus that the Earth’s atmosphere is heating up because of growing fossil fuel emissions. Climate change is, for the most part, man-made — caused by the industrialised nations and by people like me who open yet another print-on-demand online shop.

    Back in the ’90s, humanity already knew that this problem had to be tackled globally. One generation later, laws and regulations have come into force that can be traced back to those decisions, increasingly taxing the use of fossil fuels and the release of greenhouse gases.

    Naturally, this drives up energy prices and the cost of living. It confronts people here with complex decisions about major purchases — a car, a heating system — as well as everyday life. Complexities that make them angry. Angry enough that, among other things, populism is once again finding fertile ground.

    The Show Must Go On

    Surely we can’t be expected to rethink — let alone sacrifice — the routines we’ve worked so hard to build. Things like flying abroad twice a year or ordering T-shirts made in Bangladesh online.

    And consumption just keeps rolling on as if there were no tomorrow. But heaven forbid petrol or electricity should become more expensive.

    This particular high, carrying neo-nationalist undertones since 2001, goes hand in hand with global capitalism. It seems to be drifting into ever more brutal resource conflicts while still showing no sign of slowing down. Meanwhile, large parts of the population outside the glorious West are only now reaching a level of prosperity they have no intention of giving up.

    Killing in the Name

    As a result, more and more people are competing for limited natural resources. Habitats for animals and plants are disappearing faster and faster. Energy and housing costs continue to rise — after all, building materials are natural resources too — and the public mood grows rougher and hotter, all beneath the steadily warming cheese dome we call our atmosphere.

    Does the world really need another brand shipping T-shirts with 90s-inspired designs around the globe from a print-on-demand shop?

    Certainly not.

    So why am I doing it anyway?

    Especially considering how little it fits the 80s kid I used to be — the one who always took the final warning in wildlife documentaries to heart: that shrinking habitats were pushing those fascinating creatures towards extinction.

    The teenager who never understood the never-ending party called the Love Parade because, to him, it always looked like dancing on the edge of a volcano.

    My Favourite Game

    Today I understand that all of this has a lot to do with life itself.

    One person pours a lot of money into a classic car, drives it once a year to meet fellow enthusiasts, and spends the rest of the year simply polishing it.

    I just happen to enjoy making music, so I combine everything I’m reasonably good at — entertaining, drawing, songwriting and creating content — into one project.

    The tax office calls that a hobby business.

    Everybody else calls it a quirk.

    Only now have I truly understood sayings like “to each their own” or “live and let live.”

    Maybe collectively remembering old songs distracts us from crises and guilty consciences for a little while.

    We need reflection.

    A pause.

    And a little more optimism.

    One shitty T-shirt won’t save the world.

    It might even make it a tiny bit worse.

    But maybe, just for a moment, it also makes it a little more fun.

    And as long as nobody is buying too many of them, Daddy Grunge doesn’t really have a moral conflict on its hands.

    So, let the fuckening begin.

  • Likes, Kids and the Rest of (Online) Life

    Likes, Kids and the Rest of (Online) Life

    Somewhere between MySpace and fatherhood, the algorithm showed up.

    I belong to the generation of internet and social media veterans: dial-up internet in 1995, StudiVZ, ICQ, MySpace, eventually Facebook. Never Twitter, awkwardly Instagram, and even a brief stop at Google Plus. Not as an early adopter or trendsetter—more of a follower, really—but at least never the last idiot to show up.

    And honestly, I enjoyed most of those journeys: building communities organically, making connections, rediscovering old friends and meeting new ones.

    Push The Feeling On

    But whenever I tried to promote ideas or projects organically, it was frustrating.

    Today I realize I behaved like I did at the local village disco back in the early ’90s: always driving to the same party with the same buddies to meet the same crowd and have a bit of pointless fun. And that worked reasonably well on social media too (by the way, what the fuck happened to Facebook? 😂) — just not when it came to becoming an overnight viral success.

    Connected

    As for how it could work better, ChatGPT and Claude are never short on professional advice. And just like that, I feel the old reflex kicking in again: the temptation to throw myself (semi-professionally) into the pull of the social media attention machine.

    But I know how exhausting that can be. How it can slowly change your personality. And how much time it consumes.

    So I always have to pull myself back:

    “It’s a hobby.”

    And:

    “My kids benefit more from having an attentive and involved father.”

    (Even though—let’s be honest—that can be exhausting too. But nobody gives you those early years back.)

    As interesting as creative experimentation can be, or interacting with followers when it actually happens, real connections simply carry more weight. If only because communication between real people happens on so many more levels (smiles, leers, scoffs, smirks).

    And if you’ve already lost a few meaningful connections throughout your life, you know just how valuable shared time really is.

    Time is something nobody gives back, either.

    Even Flow

    Well, that’s the dilemma of the attention machine.

    But I’ll figure it out. It certainly isn’t the first trade-off I’ve had to deal with.

    And even if those little dopamine drips feel great, you can’t actually buy anything with them.

    The ideal solution, of course, would be for Daddy Grunge to go viral immediately.

    That way there’d be no slow, creeping pull—just an overwhelming rush that would have to be contained by any means necessary.

    Ah well.

    Honestly, I’d much rather be talking about all this over a beer with real people.

    A Gen-X Daddy