And when I saw that, I realized that selling was the greatest career a man could want.  What could be more satisfying than to be able to go, at the age of 84, into twenty or thirty different cities… and pick up a phone, and be remembered and loved and helped by so many different people?

- Willy Loman,
Death of a Salesman, Arthur Miller

In the grand scheme of things, few people will remember Billy Mays.  Not with the death of Michael Jackson, Farah Fawcett, and Mitsuharu Misawa spaced just weeks apart.  At least in this part of the world, Billy Mays is synonymous with 4 PM infomercials that people cannot use.  Never mind the venerable buckets of OxiClean or the spray-bottles of Simoniz; at least here, Billy Mays is that loud, boisterous man who pitched the Ultimate Ladder.

Loud.  Billy pulled no punches in selling the products, whether they’re as useful as OxiClean or as funny as Tool Bandit (a magnetic strap you wear around your arm to carry tools).  Boisterous.  Billy was the archetype of the annoying TV snake-oil salesman, although he did give Simoniz and Mighty Putty the thumbs-up that was his seal of approval.  Each and every product made its way out of the TV, and into department stores.

Did anyone buy an Ultimate Ladder?  I do not know; I’m sure that in the United States, where Billy Mays is known as the “King of Infomercials,” Billy sold more  buckets of OxiClean through 1-800 numbers flashing on your screen.  While TV shopping may be the boon of lazybones customers and the bane of many a channel-surfer, Billy Mays pitched.  And pitched.  He just kept pitching things that were supposed to make our life better.  The pitch became an art form, more than the science of citrus cleaners and the mechanics of all-in-one power tools.

Such was life before the Internet and affiliate advertising, and life after the days of the travelling salesman.  Billy Mays, along with other TV infomercial pitchmen, were somewhere in between; patient sellers of products that didn’t make life any different or revolutionary, just easier.  It wasn’t a hard sell, or deliberate false advertising.  It’s the way of “As Seen on TV” products: putting names and reputations on the line for everything.  Augers, kitchen tools, ladders, and just about everything Billy Mays pitched, he sold with gusto.

Never mind that it was an unholy hour for shopping, never mind that every plastic slicer you had never really worked, or that you had to pay extra for shipping and handling.  Never mind that Billy Mays annoyed or amused more than he sold, or that his excited sales pitches earned him as much ridicule as he earned respect.  Nope, he didn’t have to deliberately smash his car somewhere, like Willy did in Death of a Salesman. All he had to do was appear on our TV screens to pitch the latest innovation, raise his thumbs up in a seal of approval, and I bet you one customer is going to make a call to that 1-800 number.

In the play, Willy says, “You can’t eat the orange and throw the peel away.  A man is not a piece of fruit.”  Yet I guess he missed out on the fact that a man can always do with a bottle of Orange Glo.

Perhaps the legacy of Billy Mays may be immortalized in pop-culture kitsch.  Yet there’s no mistaking that funny immortality: in a world of infomercials and pitchmen, whether it’s on TV or some basement at a mall, Billy Mays was the best.

* – Image sourced from DeadlyViper.org

The worst way to begin this entry would be to say, “I was shocked with the death of Michael Jackson.”  Another bad way to begin this entry would be to say, “I grew up with the music of Michael Jackson.”  We’re all shocked with his death, and we all grew up with his music, and he is indeed the single most revolutionary performer this generation ever had.  By now, everyone made a tribute – obligatory as it may be – to the King of Pop and his untimely passing.  It’s not that I’m riding a bandwagon, but it does get me thinking: what is there left to be said about him?

My elementary school days were punctuated by the melodious vocals of Michael Jackson.  Those into modern dance moonwalked their way along the corridors.  The HIStory albums were the first to go in the record stores; this was the time when eight-track cassettes were slowly giving way to CDs.  Michael Jackson was so cool and modern, that it became hip to wear pants a little on the short side, just to show white socks inside black patent leather shoes.  Everyone back then was a Michael Jackson fan, never mind that most of us back then didn’t know that he was black.  Yet there was always the music of MJ.  We sang, we danced, we performed at class assemblies.

It took a while before Michael Jackson’s name became more important than the music and the performance.  Child abuse allegations, dangling babies over balconies, and his unusually pale color made MJ more of a caricature than a performer.  MJ lost fans.  The Walkmans and boomboxes (this was the 1990s, even then, we didn’t have iPods) gave way to music that would define the rest of our musical tastes.  The mere mention of Michael Jackson can conjure up derision and disdain, at least to the discriminating (in more ways than one) fans that we were.

We made more jokes about the King of Pop than listening to his music.  More musicians came to the fore.  MJ faded to the background.  The comeback was questioned; who would listen to Michael Jackson, except people who grew up with his music?  He was no longer as hip as he was before.  The larger-than-life figure, the immortal, was nothing more that a beat-up, washed-out, bankrupt artist who had nothing left but music once so regarded, but then now derided.

Then, Michael Jackson died.  No celebrity death generated more new listeners or restored the appreciation of legions of fans more than the King of Pop.  MJ’s comeback were the albums, the music videos, the songs, the anthologies that he made through his lifetime of music.  Beyond the caricatures and the allegations, one thing is certain.

We’ll all remember the music, and we’ll all remember the time.

Under normal conditions, the research scientist is not an innovator but a solver of puzzles, and the puzzles upon which he concentrates are just those which he believes can be both stated and solved within the existing scientific tradition.

- Thomas Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions

It’s not as much Copernicus disproving Ptolemy’s model, or Einstein propounding the theory of relativity, but scientific revolutions are made of simpler stuff than just grand theories and impressive ideas.

Like writing, the advancement of science and technology requires humility.  Science is sold every day, whether it’s a new invention or a new innovation.  Those who do science and technology – and those who sell it – are wise enough to take a step back from the project, and to realize how every part of it fits in with the other.  The assembly of facts, whether mental or material, is shifting and moving.  Facts can be disputed, and technology is always tested.  Even cold, hard scientific facts – or marketing facts, for that matter – are tested in reality.

In science, the equivalent of a writer’s revision in a work is called a paradigm shift.  Indeed, that’s a very cool phrase to use.  It speaks to something dreamlike and revolutionary.  Enamored as we are with “paradigm shifts,” it is all too often not the discovery of something new or innovative that causes it, but that something in the existing paradigm is inadequate or proven wrong.  That humility, to me at least, is the hallmark of a true scientist: the willingness to subject a scientific idea or a product of technology to the rigors of criticism.

Scientists should be humble to open themselves up to the possibility of being wrong without destroying their confidence for their science.  Scientific facts and products of technology do not always start out right: the errors are fixed, the criticisms are addressed, the problems are resolved.  What’s wrong from the beginning becomes right at the end.  That’s why science is the journey itself, not a stopover.

Scientists have to be open to criticism.  Every now and then, scientists need to revise their science.  Science is about constant proof, to affirm that the facts that they are stand as the facts as they are.  We constantly hypothesize, test, and conclude whenever we do science, and explore the possibilities brought about by that science.

When the results of the experiment are proven wrong, the experiment is re-evaluated.  The experiment is performed again.  The scientist bends over backwards not just to be proven right, but also to prove the facts to stand the test of discovery, exploration, and the rigors of scientific inquiry.  It’s not just the confidence in the results of science, but the willingness to subject those results to scrutiny and criticism, and learning and applying those lessons.

That, I think, is what makes a scientist stand out.  In the end, the qualities that make a scientist stand out will affect the product.  Humility and openness will result in a superior product.  Before that product hits the shelves, it has to be tested, underwritten, proven, and affirmed in the same way as the science that made it happen.

Like a revision of a story, scientific “revision” requires humility.  If you’re humble enough to accept criticisms, to apply lessons from criticisms, and to stand by your work where your confidence demands it, is the hallmark of science and is the key to commercial success.  Before wearing your laurels, you must first make sure that your head sees things the way they stand, and not moving in revolutions up high in the clouds.

Only then will the scientist see the illumination that leads to enlightenment.

Written after reading the exchange at Smoke.ph.