If you work in the web industry, chances are your blog reading closely mirrors mine. To some degree, it should. When a new trend emerges or controversy brews, we’ll get trustworthy insight from various thought leaders as well as a helpful dose of sarcasm every once in awhile.

That said, I’m ready for some new voices. Derek Powazek, my favorite read over the past year, has stopped blogging, and the loss cuts deep. I need to fill the void.

What am I looking for? Writing about design, both web and otherwise. Writing about writing. Writing about film. Writing about business. Writing about life in general from a strong voice.

Here are the sites I’ve been reading over the past two years. This list will probably look very familiar to several of you, and probably belongs in a design textbook at this point:

• cameronmoll.com
• 37signals.com
• airbagindustries.com
• subtraction.com
• daringfireball.com
• kottke.com
• jasonsantamaria.com
• zeldman.com
• coudal.com
• shauninman.com
• jeffcroft.com
• dkeithrobinson.com
• hicksdesign.co.uk
• veerle.duoh.com
• andyrutledge.com
• designobserver.com
• bearskinrug.co.uk
• simplebits.com
• webdevref.com
• walkjogrun.net/blog
• chicagobusiness.com

Who are you reading that I should add?

If the polls hadn’t opened at 6, we would’ve been SOL. We would’ve been electoral miscreants. We would’ve been those people the pundits moan about every year (except 2004) when people shrug instead of tromping to the local school auditorium.

Now, the crack of dawn is better than nothing. But 9a.m. is even better, especially after sleeping in and downing a few cups of coffee while thumbing through the paper.

So forget all this early voting and electronic balloting. I want the day off. I want parades and little kids running around with sparklers. I want someone standing outside the polling place with warm cupcakes and hot cider. Warm cupcakes would do a thing or two for voter turnout.

Are there too many federal holidays? Fine, let’s swap one out. I’d trade President’s Day or Columbus Day for a holiday that exists for a tangible reason; I just don’t sit around on Columbus Day and think about Columbus.

Election Day is a holiday in nine states. John Conyers of Michigan has proposed a bill to make Election Day a national holiday, and he wants to give it the cheesy title of Democracy Day. Fine. So long as I don’t have to eat Freedom Fries.

But apparently every bank must pull a slick fine-print maneuver every once in awhile. The Better Half, who keeps our checkbook up to date, wandered into the living room the other day to ask if I’d made a balance inquiry at the ATM, because we’d been charged $1.50 for it. A quick call to customer service confirmed things: Washington Mutual charges for balance inquiries at the ATM.

What makes the unexpected charge even more off-putting: WaMu actively seeks out balance inquiries at the ATM. After asking if you’d like a receipt, the ATM asks if you’d like a balance inquiry.

Sneaky. And what other hidden charges are dressed up in the guise of convenience? $1.50 isn’t the end of the world, but the hypocrisy is a bit hard to ignore. Even my butler thinks so.

Things like fat.

Yes, we’re too dang fat and the City Council is going to do something about it, dul gurn it. According to today’s Tribune, Chicago Alderman Edward Burke wants to ban restaurants from using “artery-clogging trans fat.”

Banning usually starts out with the best of intentions, showing up at your front door like a well-groomed teenager ringing for your daughter. Two hours later, you peer out the front window and see the ban swerving uncontrollably down the street as though it’s been hijacked by eight-year-olds. You catch your daughter’s eye in the passenger seat, and she stares back as if to say, “how could you.”

(That metaphor got away from me a bit.)

First, the city banned the use of a cell phone while driving without a headset. Great. Then, after much hand-wringing, the city sort of banned smoking in public, and hooray for that overdue development.

Here’s where things get a little kooky. Suddenly foie gras falls on the chopping block. A few months later, trans fat squirms (or jiggles) in the crosshairs.

I appreciate the government protecting me from people who might kill me because they’re too busy dialing on their cell phones instead of watching the road. I appreciate the effort to remove the cancer-causing smoke from the restaurant and bar we all want to enjoy.

I’m not certain I appreciate the move to decide what goes in my penne alla vodka. (Mmm, penne alla vodka…)

Mayor Daley:

“How far should government go? How far should the City Council go? Let’s talk about health. Let’s talk about people working out. Let’s talk about good eating habits, but not to start outlawing and telling every company what they should be doing.”

Word.

I can do whatever I want with my subway car. I can leave my briefcase on the seat next to me in the morning even if the train becomes horribly overcrowded. I can board my subway car and stand in the doorway without a second thought for the fifteen other people waiting to board behind me. Once we get close to my stop, I can shove my way to the door even if everyone else is getting off there as well. It doesn’t matter because it’s my subway car.

The best part about this deal? Any subway car I step onto instantly becomes mine.

Don’t be jealous; lots of people have their own subway car. I’m sure you can get one yourself. All it takes is a blatant disregard for others and a lack of manners. A newspaper or books also helps, especially when you’ve got tons of room around you and the glowering crowds outside the subway car are staring at you because you won’t budge.

Don’t these people know it’s your subway car?

(photo courtesy of one Ms. Yvonne Doll of The Locals)

The Mayor and other intrepid city planners want to implement new standards that would reduce the amount of bacteria in the Chicago River and create an environment in which fish can thrive (and people can avoid staph infection). From yesterday’s Tribune:

Unlike most other major cities… Chicago doesn’t disinfect its wastewater to remove disease-causing bacteria and other pathogens.

Yes, gross.

As with everything, there’s a hitch — the new purifying techniques are potentially expensive. Very expensive. And some are worried the benefits don’t outweigh the costs:

“We’re not convinced there are enough people using the waterways to merit spending this money,” said Richard Lanyon, the district’s research director.

That’s right — it’s our fault. We’ve steered clear of the bacteria-infested river because we worry about silly things like e-coli, and now our city planners think we don’t care about the river.

Well that ends right here. It’s time to take the plunge into a body of water with pollution levels 400 times higher than the Delaware River in Philadelphia. We need to show our love, chronic diarrhea be damned!

Following this line of reasoning: will we need to contract Bird Flu so the government knows we really do want a vaccine?

DREW walks down the street toward the subway station, leaving a voice message for HIS WIFE RENATE. A WOMAN approaches, waving at him.

WOMAN
Excuse me? Hi. Hello?

Drew looks at the woman, then looks at his phone as if to say, “I’m on the phone.” The woman waits expectantly.

DREW (into phone)
Uh, I guess I’ll call you back.

WOMAN
Hi. Where’s 150 West Wacker?

After a moment of measured annoyance, Drew explains he’s not from these parts, but attempts to give the woman directions. After that fails, he points her towards an office building where there is surely a desk clerk who knows where 150 West Wacker is (West Wacker?). The woman’s response as she walks off:

WOMAN
Oh, that’s all right.

(Fade to black.)

EXT. UNION STATION – ANOTHER EARLY EVENING

Sent on a dreaded mission to buy his wife’s monthly Metra pass, Drew quickly discovers the entrance to Union Station at Madison and Canal is really an entrance to the train platforms. At the same time, A WOMAN, looking lost, turns to him in desperation:

WOMAN
Can you get to the ticket area from this entrance?

DREW
That’s what I’m trying to do, but I don’t think so.

The woman turns away in disgust.

WOMAN
These f–king cabs.

(Fade to black.)

I’m forming a courtesy brigade. If you join, we can discuss uniforms, but first and foremost, we need the right tools.

Each of us will be armed with a modified airhorn that blares an ear-piercing “you’re welcome” when the trigger is pressed, giving our righteous indignation the public attention it so richly deserves.

Perhaps a bullhorn is also necessary for incident-specific messaging. For the guy who throws his coffee cup on the bus floor: “I SAW THAT, LITTERBUG.” For the person who stands steadfast in the doorway of the subway car while twenty people wait to get on: “MOVE YOUR A– OUT OF THE WAY.”

Big things start small. Join today and someday people will say they knew you when. And they’ll thank you.

You work at an information booth. Someone walks up to you and says, ‘where’s the nearest gas station?’ You reply, ‘isn’t it a nice day?’ The person tries again: ‘I’m just looking for directions to the nearest gas station.’ You say, ‘I think it might rain later.’

I was reminded of this concept recently after a back-and-forth with the Borders customer service department regarding their newly launched rewards program.

Two months ago I purchased a book at Borders and the chipper sales associate behind the register convinced me to sign up for the program. The gist: for every purchase you make in a year, Borders gives you five percent to spend at the end of the year. Buy $100 worth of books and you’ll have $5 to spend at the holidays. Neat concept. All I needed to provide was my email address. (Can you see where this is going?)

Four weeks later, I got fed up with the weekly flow of promotional emails. I wanted to remain part of the rewards program, but I didn’t care for the relentless emails pushing new books or items for sale, so I tried to unsubscribe from the list.

Yes, tried to.

Unsubscribing from an email list sounds easy. You may have unsubscribed from lists once or twice yourself and thought nothing of it. But apparently unsubscribing can have significant consequences. Here’s the language from the unsubscribe link: “unsubscribe and cancel your membership.”

Why would any company want to tie these two things together? I emailed Borders customer care and made clear that I wanted to unsubscribe from the mailing list, but wanted to remain a rewards member. Their response:

Thank you for contacting us regarding becoming a “no-email” member. Currently, the only identifier with your account is your email address and removing it without adding another identifier could prevent you from earning rewards.

Um — what? At no point did I say ‘remove my email address from your system.’ I simply said ‘stop sending me so much promotional dreck.’ But apparently you either receive all of Borders’ emails, or you get booted from the program.

I did have one other option: I could provide another unique identifier, such as a phone number or mailing address, or even some random 7 digit code of my choosing (just what I need, another password to remember).

My response:

Thanks for your reply, but I fail to see why you cannot keep my email address as a unique identifier while removing it from the list of email recipients. You may certainly contact me by email if there’s a problem with my account, but please stop sending me weekly promotional emails. I also don’t care to provide any further contact information, as I’ve already given you my email and received numerous promotional emails as a result — I can only imagine the same would happen if you had my mailing address.

So — please either unsubscribe me from the email list, or if that’s not possible, cancel my membership altogether.

Their response:

We have removed your email address from your account. Please call Customer Care at xxx.xxx.xxxx and provide the agent with your first and last name and 7-digit telephone number. This will enable you to continue earning and redeeming rewards with or without your card at the time of purchase.

I canceled the membership.

I like shopping at Borders, and if they change the way they run this program, I’d probably reapply. But failing to separate their email subscription list from their account management system — and blithely ignoring the inherent problems in doing so — is just poor CRM.

But it is a nice day.

Update 4/20/06: Just received my latest Borders Rewards email.

There are those of us out there who like you just fine. We’re called your subscribers. We pay for your paper because we like to read it. Not all of it, and sometimes none of it, but more often than not, we’ve tucked your paper next to the morning coffee cup or in the briefcase because we actually plan on reading it, and we like it the way it is.

The aforementioned may seem obvious, but you are beginning to act strangely. Don’t you know how fickle the youngsters are today? They will get their news from (gasp) The Daily Show! I have accepted the fact that pseudo-papers like Metro and Red Eye are here to stay — especially since you now own them — but do you really think they will convert non-readers into subscribers? These are free papers: yours is not. Plus, yours does not have Kanye West on the cover every third day.

(And please keep it that way.)

I can understand that you want to hang out with the cool kids, which is why you’re listening to people who say silly things like, “The content of many newspapers is not compelling, relevant or interesting, it’s important and dull. Nobody wants to read important and dull.”

Please stop listening to these people. You’re beautiful, baby, although I wouldn’t mind if you would spend a bit more money to develop ink that doesn’t rub off on my fingers so much.

While I’m at it, please stop trying to lure me to your website by offering ‘exclusive online’ content. Boston Globe, you pulled this trick on the editorial page with great regularity. Why are you hiding content from me? If you’re going to offer more online than in the paper, why should I bother even buying the paper in the first place? Don’t punish me for reading the dang thing.

Besides, I don’t read the paper in front of the computer; I read it at the breakfast table and on the subway. On Sundays, I read it on the couch, and I like it that way. I spend all day in front of the computer; let’s keep our relationship purely physical.

Thank you for your time, and please knock it the heck off.

Sincerely,
Drew, a budding Curmudgeon

(Editorial note: I’m not a WSJ subscriber. But Chicago Tribune, consider yourself warned.)