Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)
Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.
This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.
Thursday, April 29, 2004
I have been muchly busy.
Explaining the dearth of pithiness hereabouts today, and in addition, I have been remiss--Miss Janis sent me this article about the demise of Oldsmobile, and I have yet to comment on it.
Well, it's just darned sad, that's all. But it's just part of a pervasive sad-sackness that has left GM gasping the past few years trying to compete in an aggressive, high-quality, world marketplace. Oldsmobile wasn't really even Oldsmobile anymore--it was the Oldsmobile "brand," yet another in the sack of crap management matrix that sounded wonderful when spouted off by people who sell potato chips and soap, but never translated down to the consumer, who tend to view their cars not as a snack food or toiletry, but an expression and extension of themselves.
It seems the rot became noticeable when it was no longer fashionable to have an Olds, and the geniuses in advertising started touting it as not something your dad would drive. Sadly, the corporate miasma built into the things guaranteed that you wouldn't want one, either. Once they started getting further away from gutsy, swank cars--442s, 88s, Toronados--and started up with the Firenza, and Ciera, and Aurora, and Bravada, it was just all a bunch of rolling turdsas. (In fairness, the Aurora was a good car. Not quite as good as it was put forth as being, however.)
It makes sense, I'm sure, from a business point of view to axe Olds (although it could just as easily have been Buick, another "brand" that has suffered from years of managerial abuse)--there's simply not enough room in the market for whatever it was Olds claimed to be in its final few years. What I never understood was why it had to be a four-year long death, and why in the world anyone would have kept buying them after it was announced that it was going to be an orphan nameplate.
Anyway, Olds now shuffles off to commiserate with Plymouth, and Imperial, and Edsel, and DeSoto, and Hupmobile, and Oakland.
Linda Vaughn says goodbye.
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