I now have a tiny bit of time. Here's a random excerpt from the interview I posted. In bold are the perceptive (informative) statements by George. When you see a lot of these, you know you are not dealing with an INFJ.
And with George, essentially all of it is perceptive.
How can you possibly oversee all that?
That’s what Apple is still in the business of; dealing with lawyers and trying to stop people from doing this, doing that and doing the other—or trying to license people to do it properly if they’ve got the decency to ask.
What about the "Revolution" commercial?
Well, that–that’s something that is a problem, inasmuch as they, whoever wanted it... see, you’ve got these people who own copyrights of things. How they obtained them is a different business. Talking personally about the songs I wrote when I was very young, this guy came up to me and said, "Well, you’ve got to have your music published." I go, "What’s that?" "So that when it goes out you can get some money for it. So, here, why don’t you sign this form and I’ll publish your music for you." They forget to say, "And, incidentally, I’m gonna steal your song and I will own it for the rest of my life, and you don’t own that song even though you just wrote it."
I was more fortunate than John and Paul because I only wrote a few songs in the early days, compared to them. Did you ever see the Rutles? Well, there was a thing in there where it says, "Dick Jaws, an out-of-work publisher of no fixed ability, signed them up for the rest of their lives." And it cuts to him saying, "Lucky, really." So that’s what happened. Fortunately, when that first agreement expired with me, Neil Aspenall, who was our friend and went to school with Paul and I, and who still runs Apple, said, "Hey, I don’t think you should sign with these people." I was in the Himalayas at the time and I thought, OK, and I just formed my own publishing company. So since then I own my own songs, whereas John and Paul’s went on, and this guy Dick Jaws sold them to someone else, and then Paul was trying to get ’em back and then Paul’s good friend Michael Jackson went and bought them.
So these people who think they own the rights never had anything to do with the promotion of them or the writing of them or the recording of them, but obtained them because of all this devious stuff that happened in the past. (Here Harrison makes what is sometimes termed "a familiar gesture.") That’s what happened, so they think they own all our songs. EMI and Capitol thinks they own all our songs on record and, according to contracts, maybe they do. But they have a contract to put out our records and promote our records–they don’t have a contract saying "We can sell you to sausage manufacturers." And if we don’t do anything about it, every Beatles song in the world is going to be a TV commercial.
A lot of people, I think, are offended by that.
They are! Even Time magazine said it took some schmuck five minutes to turn him into a jingle writer.
Through the years, it seems, all this stuff has seeped into society and they tend to look upon it as public domain. It’s the same with that Beatlemania stuff—we had to try and stop people from doing these things in order to establish, "Look, we’re here, we’re humans, we exist, and there’s laws of names and likeness." They’re doing it all over the place: I see adverts in England now, it’s for a bank—Westminster Bank—and they’ve got a big photograph of James Dean. Even David Putnam, the English film producer—he heads up Columbia Films now, in the States—even he said to his secretary, "Hey, find out who the James Dean lookalike is." It’s, like, take a picture of James Dean because he’s dead and he can’t answer, but there’s James Dean’s family, his estate—they should own the rights to how he looks. Same with Marilyn Monroe, or whoever, it doesn’t matter that they’re dead. But they’re doing it to us and we’re not even dead yet. It’s like the Beatles were the most ripped-off people of all time, and, as for the record company, they should be ashamed of themselves–it’s one thing to treat some artist who’s here today and gone tomorrow with your crummy little royalty rate and treat ’em like trash, but a band like us who survived twenty-some odd years, sold a billion records for them at the lowest royalty rate you’ve ever heard of, and then still steal from you!? I’d be ashamed, I couldn’t do it. And to have to argue and fight with them and say, give us a break, man, you’re lucky to have anything. But if this thing with Capitol comes to court they’ll be lucky to end up owning the masters. There’s a good chance we’ll get back all our masters and everything. And The Beatles have never been greedy; we’ve never received huge royalties like some people now. You know, you get over a dollar fifty, at least, for an album. We get one old penny. One old English penny per album.
By comparison, let's look at excerpts from interviews with Paula Cole, an INFJ, Ayn Rand, an INTJ, Edward Norton, an INFJ, and Dorian Yates, an INTJ:
Paula:
TP: Let's talk about the fact that so many female performers broke through last year, when it used to be that radio programmers wouldn't have added your record because they were playing Tori Amos's. Now that female singers are like gold, the music industry, in its typically cynical way, considers "women in rock" a genre of music.
PC: They think it's a fad, which is really dangerous. I think so many women broke through because there was an incredible vacancy. But it doesn't matter what gender the music is coming from. You can't keep good music down.
TP: Do you think something has changed in our culture to make mass audiences more receptive to music that shows a sensitive, vulnerable side? it's not just female artists - Jakob Dylan and Maxwell broke last year too.
PC: And Kurt Cobain and Jeff Buckley before that. I think what you're talking about is a larger sociological and spiritual awareness. The end of the millennium makes people consider their mortality and the meaning of their lives.
TP: Your music has a fervor that could account for larger audiences connecting with it.
PC: I hope so. I know I need music. I wouldn't be alive without it. I got terribly depressed when I was in college at Berklee [College of Music]. I was trying to be the ultimate jazz singer - a female Chet Baker - but it became so cerebral, so filled with pressure, that I got really low. I don't think I would have committed suicide, but I certainly contemplated it every day. I hated everything that was coming out of my mouth. I really thought I sucked.
TP: Were you really bad, or are you your own harshest critic?
PC: [pauses] It was a bit of both. But then I started writing my own troths, which became songs. It shocked my parents. My more wrote me a letter, which 1 have kept to this day. It said, "The songs are so dark - are you suicidal? Can't you write something happy?" When I started making my own music, it was an explosion. It was the universe saying, "This is your path. This is your destiny."
Ayn:
PLAYBOY: In Atlas Shrugged, one of your leading characters is asked, "What's the most depraved type of human being?" His reply is surprising: He doesn't say a sadist or a murderer or a sex maniac or a dictator; he says, "The man without a purpose." Yet most people seem to go through their lives without a clearly defined purpose. Do you regard them as depraved?
RAND: Yes, to a certain extent.
PLAYBOY: Why?
RAND: Because that aspect of their character lies at the root of and causes all the evils which you mentioned in your question. Sadism, dictatorship, any form of evil, is the consequence of a man's evasion of reality. A consequence of his failure to think. The man without a purpose is a man who drifts at the mercy of random feelings or unidentified urges and is capable of any evil, because he is totally out of control of his own life. In order to be in control of your life, you have to have a purpose -- a productive purpose.
PLAYBOY: Weren't Hitler and Stalin, to name two tyrants, in control of their own lives, and didn't they have a clear purpose?
RAND: Certainly not. Observe that both of them ended as literal psychotics. They were men who lacked self-esteem and, therefore, hated all of existence. Their psychology, in effect, is summarized in Atlas Shrugged by the character of James Taggart. The man who has no purpose, but has to act, acts to destroy others. That is not the same thing as a productive or creative purpose.
PLAYBOY: If a person organizes his life around a single, neatly defined purpose, isn't he in danger of becoming extremely narrow in his horizons?
RAND: Quite the contrary. A central purpose serves to integrate all the other concerns of a man's life. It establishes the hierarchy, the relative importance, of his values, it saves him from pointless inner conflicts, it permits him to enjoy life on a wide scale and to carry that enjoyment into any area open to his mind; whereas a man without a purpose is lost in chaos. He does not know what his values are. He does not know how to judge. He cannot tell what is or is not important to him, and, therefore, he drifts helplessly at the mercy of any chance stimulus or any whim of the moment. He can enjoy nothing. He spends his life searching for some value which he will never find.
PLAYBOY: Couldn't the attempt to rule whim out of life, to act in a totally rational fashion, be viewed as conducive to a juiceless, joyless kind of existence?
RAND: I truly must say that I don't know what you are talking about. Let's define our terms. Reason is man's tool of knowledge, the faculty that enables him to perceive the facts of reality. To act rationally means to act in accordance with the facts of reality. Emotions are not tools of cognition. What you feel tells you nothing about the facts; it merely tells you something about your estimate of the facts. Emotions are the result of your value judgments; they are caused by your basic premises, which you may hold consciously or subconsciously, which may be right or wrong. A whim is an emotion whose cause you neither know nor care to discover. Now what does it mean, to act on whim? It means that a man acts like a zombi, without any knowledge of what he deals with, what he wants to accomplish, or what motivates him. It means that a man acts in a state of temporary insanity. Is this what you call juicy or colorful? I think the only juice that can come out of such a situation is blood. To act against the facts of reality can result only in destruction.
Edward:
GRAHAM FULLER: What were the core ideas in the Fight Club script that you wanted to get your teeth into as an actor?
EDWARD NORTON: Fincher sent me the novel, and I read it in one sitting. It's obviously a surreal piece that operates at an almost allegorical level within someone's madness, and I felt immediately that it was on the pulse of a zeitgeist I recognized. It speaks to my generation's conflict with the American material values system at its worst. I guess I've felt for a long time that a lot of the films that were aimed at my generation were some baby boomer perception of what Gen-X was about. They seemed to be tailored to a kind of reductive image of us as slackers and to have a banal, glib, low-energy, angst-ridden realism, none of which I or anyone I know relates to. They didn't speak to the deeper and darker underlying sense of despair and paralysis and numbness in the face of the overwhelming onslaught of media information that we've received from the cradle.
Fight Club seemed much more on the money because it named a lot of what we resent about our inheritance. On one reading of the book, I could remember aphorisms from it that had the immediate ring of a real generational voice welling up and crystallizing ideas about our being raised on television to believe that we all should be millionaires and movie gods and rock stars, and saying that advertising has us working in jobs to make money so we can buy a bunch of shit that we don't need.
I called Fincher and told him I thought it was disturbing but that it made me laugh, because I recognized so much of it and because the narrator's plight is so desperate. I found myself relating to his self-indulgent but valid sense of complete dislocation. You just don't get to read generational nerve pieces like that very often.
GF: Isn't there a danger it could be an overreaction to the Ikea-and-Starbucks culture it criticizes? It's an easy target.
EN: Whether or not it's an easy target, it's certainly the source of a common complaint, and I personally find it to be very pernicious. I think there is a serious corruption in the idea sold through advertising that you can attain spiritual peace through lifestyle, and the notion of building your happiness from the outside-in by acquiring things - which, if you think about it, is the essence of advertising. This is where I completely agree with Tyler Durden - it's a recipe for spiritual disaster. We tried to set up a mournful, almost Holden Caulfield-like inner narrative in the film as my character talks about his life of travel and hotel rooms with mouthwash and toothbrushes and single servings and mini-everythings. Tyler, of course, is very quick to bust him for sidestepping the pain he feels about the textures of his life by being smug and cynical. Tyler is, in effect, the reassertion of the purer self. He has a moral certainty, and he's willing to name hypocrisy when he sees it. He's willing to do whatever he has to do to explore what might be right, whereas my character acknowledges what's wrong but holds back from completely stripping himself of those things because theu are still a security blanket for him.
A lot of people have been responding to Tyler as a sort of Nietzschean ubermensch in the sense that he's advocating liberation of the human individual through the rejection and destruction of the institutions and value systems that are enslaving us. Now, that's certainly correct. But the tension in the film comes from my character asking, What are the limitations of a nihilistic attitude? It can be enthralling, it can be seductive, it can feel liberating on certain levels. But at what point do the practical applications of it start to become exactly the things they're critiquing, and at what point do Tyler's initiatives start to dehumanize people just as much? I like that the film raises those questions, but then it dumps them in your lap and leaves you to sort it all out instead of supplying you an easy answer.
Dorian:
BDJ: Your first serious application to exercise, being brief, intense and infrequent training, was highly influenced by Arthur Jones and Mike Mentzer. What led you to choose that direction as opposed to more traditional methods?
DY: I'm a very logical thinker and the information from both Jones and Mentzer came across in a logical manner. I'm also the type of person that if I'm going to do something, I will look into the nature of the action first, analyze it, and obtain as much information about it as I can. I don't recall how I came across all the information necessary to make my decision, but I did try to collect as much data as possible, decipher it and see what made sense. I then combined that information with practical experience and listening closely to my body. I quickly found that once I surpassed a certain level of volume or frequency, I experienced the signs of overtraining, i.e., you're not recovering, you don't sleep well, your nervous system is run down, and you no longer make progress. That clearly indicated to me that I needed to cut back and alter my approach slightly.
Over the years I refined my program based on the principles and relationships of intensity, volume, frequency and adequate recuperation. So, although I read information by Jones and Mentzer, and having spoken to and trained with Mentzer a few times, I took what they said and combined it with traditional methods and created my own hybrid of high intensity training. I do not agree with some of the things stated by Jones and Mentzer, including training the whole body in one session.
BDJ: I concur. After training legs, I'm pretty much spent... if not physically, at least mentally.
DY: Yes... it's just too much. Some things sound fine in theory, but they don't work out in practice. So, you have to combine the two. This is where you read or think about the theoretical approach, then apply it to your training, making adjustments along the way. If it doesn't work out practically, then there's your answer. You don't beat yourself up and say, "well, why is it not working?" You have to move on and look at something else, but while adhering to the principles of high intensity.
I have taken whatever information I have found useful and discarded the rest. I have done this with people from the lowest ranks of bodybuilding all the way to the top, including Mentzer and Jones. I'm always willing to learn something new. But in all, no one has ever been my trainer or nutritionist. Rather, I listened to suggestions and took what I wanted and discovered what did and did not work for me. That's what appealed to me about bodybuilding... that I was responsible for winning or losing.
BDJ: Did you apply any particular training tactics or intensity variables to lagging muscle groups?
DY: That's pretty much what I would do. For lagging muscle groups I would train them at the start of a workout or close to the start, when my mental and physical energy levels were higher. I would also use different intensity techniques, but not all at the same time. Obviously I would train to failure, then include forced reps and additional negatives some times.
I did always emphasize the negative since it is just as important or more important than the positive portion, which a lot of people forget as they concentrate only on lifting the weight. Damage primarily occurs during the negative phase, which is responsible for the growth response. When I did negatives at the end, they were done on machines due to better control.
I would also sometimes do a modified rest pause, training heavy for 5-6 reps, resting for about 10 seconds, then squeezing out another 1-2 reps. I also did drop sets, performing 6-8 reps to failure, dropping the weight down a bit, then going for another 3-4 reps to failure, or even partials at the end of the set. I tried pre-exhaustion, but it did not work for me... an example of traditional high-intensity methodology that sounds good in theory, but did not fare well in practice. People often make the mistake that if they have a lagging muscle group that they should increase the volume or frequency, and that's not going to help.
and
