I'll probably be doing more linking to what I choose as my "Image of the Week" off-site, as opposed to always reproducing it here, because the last three months in a row I've come close to exceeding the bandwidth transfer allowed by my ISP. Not close enough to really sweat about it -- I've been getting a notice upon hitting 75 % of my allowed monthly transfer around the third or fourth day from the end of the month, so it hasn't become an issue yet -- but I'm going to dial down the image use around here slightly. (Although this does give me more incentive to put that Flickr account of mine into use, doesn't it?)
Additionally, I've had a couple of dry weeks as far as turning up suitable items for the Burst of Weirdness. Maybe I'm not looking in the right spots, but my approach until now has been to "Let the weirdness come to me", a strategy which has never failed before. This is the Interweb, after all. So I'm going to kill two birds with one stone, and link this gallery of photos taken by a guy who shoots stuff to see what happens when he shoots stuff. The link is freely swiped from John Scalzi. Problem is, now I wanna shoot stuff.
The personal blog of author Kelly Sedinger, chronicling the adventures of one overalls-clad wanderer.
Sunday, February 06, 2005
How did they do that stuff before the pocket calculator?!
Lots of times on Super Bowl Sunday I like to ignore the pregame stuff on TV, most of which is pretty boring ("And now, here's Greg Gumbel with a special feature on the long-snapper for the Eagles, and the unique struggles he's had in his life and how lucky he is to be in the NFL...") and watch a movie instead. Today it's Apollo 13, which has been a favorite film of mine pretty much since its release in 1995. (The launch sequence has to rank as one of the most thrilling sequences in any film ever, as far as I am concerned.)
Anyway, when the command module first suffers the explosion of its oxygen tanks (the "Houston, we have a problem" scene), there's a bit where Jim Lovell (Tom Hanks) has to do some manual calculations of the ship's trajectory so the numbers can be programmed into the computer on the Lunar Excursion Module. But he's working very feverishly, so he tells Mission Control that he needs a check of his arithmetic, and as a bunch of NASA techs scrawl down his numbers and crank through the calculations, there's a brief shot of a slide rule in operation.
I only used a slide rule once in school: in twelfth grade, my physics teacher -- who maintained a stash of slide rules -- spent a class session teaching us how they work, even though he admitted that they were very likely to go the way of the dodo. I seem to recall the slide rule being a fairly slick device, with an impressive amount of ingenuity behind the design of such an object. I'm not sure I've even seen a slide rule in real life since that day, and I don't have a burning desire to own one, but it's cool knowing that if I wanted one, I could get one from these people.
And if you just want to play around with one, there's this handy Java-powered slide rule.
My physics teacher told us that experienced users of slide rules could whip through calculations not much slower than folks armed with electronic calculators. For some reason, I find that pretty cool.
Anyway, when the command module first suffers the explosion of its oxygen tanks (the "Houston, we have a problem" scene), there's a bit where Jim Lovell (Tom Hanks) has to do some manual calculations of the ship's trajectory so the numbers can be programmed into the computer on the Lunar Excursion Module. But he's working very feverishly, so he tells Mission Control that he needs a check of his arithmetic, and as a bunch of NASA techs scrawl down his numbers and crank through the calculations, there's a brief shot of a slide rule in operation.
I only used a slide rule once in school: in twelfth grade, my physics teacher -- who maintained a stash of slide rules -- spent a class session teaching us how they work, even though he admitted that they were very likely to go the way of the dodo. I seem to recall the slide rule being a fairly slick device, with an impressive amount of ingenuity behind the design of such an object. I'm not sure I've even seen a slide rule in real life since that day, and I don't have a burning desire to own one, but it's cool knowing that if I wanted one, I could get one from these people.
And if you just want to play around with one, there's this handy Java-powered slide rule.
My physics teacher told us that experienced users of slide rules could whip through calculations not much slower than folks armed with electronic calculators. For some reason, I find that pretty cool.
New Chapter Today!
This morning I have posted Chapter Three of The Promised King, so you'll all have something to read if the score of the Super Bowl is something like 27-3 in the second quarter. But we all know you're going to read it regardless, right? Because if you don't, as would-be centenarian Ayn Rand would say, you're leading an irrational life full of contradictions. And we wouldn't want that, would we?
So go read Chapter Three. And for all you blog-owners out there, make sure you link Chapter Three. Failure to do so would be...ach, you get it already.
So go read Chapter Three. And for all you blog-owners out there, make sure you link Chapter Three. Failure to do so would be...ach, you get it already.
What?!
According to AICN, someone is tossing around the possibility of doing another one of those "live-action versions of an animated classic" thingies. The animated classic in question?
Hayao Miyazaki's Kiki's Delivery Service.
Well...um...hmmm. I just don't know what to think of this. What actually seems to be happening is a new adaptation of the series of children's books on which Miyazaki's film is based, as opposed to just a live-action version of Miyazaki's film itself. If the former, then fine; if the latter, then please, someone, kill this project. We just don't have a good track record when it comes to improving on movies that are already nearly perfect.
Hayao Miyazaki's Kiki's Delivery Service.
Well...um...hmmm. I just don't know what to think of this. What actually seems to be happening is a new adaptation of the series of children's books on which Miyazaki's film is based, as opposed to just a live-action version of Miyazaki's film itself. If the former, then fine; if the latter, then please, someone, kill this project. We just don't have a good track record when it comes to improving on movies that are already nearly perfect.
Exploring the CD Collection, #10
Field of Dreams
Original score by James Horner
James Horner is, as ever, a troublesome topic for film music lovers. To me, he's pretty much fallen off the radar in recent years. I'm told by the Horner fans that his recent work -- the actual score to Troy, which replaced Gabriel Yared's rejected (and brilliant) score, A Beautiful Mind, and so on -- is still beautiful, well-constructed, and so on. But cursory listens to sample tracks have led me to conclude that I've pretty much heard all from Horner that I'm ever going to hear. That's a pity, because he once showed evidence of being a very compelling voice in film music, as opposed to merely being the poster-child for slick competence in film music.
Anyway.
Field of Dreams, which tends to alternate with Bull Durham as my favorite baseball film, came out in 1989, so its score has been around a bit. To my ears, it marks the point where the up-and-coming Horner of the 1980s, who wrote big scores to films like Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, Aliens, and Willow, began yielding to the Horner of the 1990s, who tended to write more introspective music, dominated by strings and low winds, long and dreamy melodies, safer harmonies, and occasional flirtations with Americana. (To Horner's detractors, this may also mark the point at which Horner finally reached the point where he had enough of a body of work that he could begin recycling his own material, as opposed to rather liberally borrowing from classical masters. Anyone who would decry John Williams as being a heavy borrower from classical masters only does so because they haven't explored James Horner too closely. See Alex Ross for details.)
For Field of Dreams, though, Horner writes a score of genuine beauty. A hushed rendition of the main theme, played by a solo horn, accompanies the film's opening credits, which then gives way to a bit of piano solo (played, I think, by Horner himself) that to my ears is as sepia-toned as the still-photos that flash by, slide-show style, to Ray Kinsella's (Kevin Costner's) narration.
Interestingly -- to me, anyway -- is how Horner keeps everything pretty understated until the film's final scene. There's some dark material along the way: sad musical meditations for Ray Kinsella's meditations on his childhood, and fairly dark and mysterious material accompanying pretty much the entire Moonlight Graham subplot (dark material which gives way to more gentle material when young Archie takes the final step to becoming Doc Graham, and then back to some very sad music indeed as Ray realizes the sacrifice Doc has just made on his behalf). But it's only in the very last scene, as dusk is settling and all of the film's conflicts are settled save one, that Horner uncorks his main theme in full force. It's a pretty obvious compositional trick, and there's nothing earth-shaking in the music itself, and yet somehow it always makes me tear up, just a little.
Original score by James Horner
James Horner is, as ever, a troublesome topic for film music lovers. To me, he's pretty much fallen off the radar in recent years. I'm told by the Horner fans that his recent work -- the actual score to Troy, which replaced Gabriel Yared's rejected (and brilliant) score, A Beautiful Mind, and so on -- is still beautiful, well-constructed, and so on. But cursory listens to sample tracks have led me to conclude that I've pretty much heard all from Horner that I'm ever going to hear. That's a pity, because he once showed evidence of being a very compelling voice in film music, as opposed to merely being the poster-child for slick competence in film music.
Anyway.
Field of Dreams, which tends to alternate with Bull Durham as my favorite baseball film, came out in 1989, so its score has been around a bit. To my ears, it marks the point where the up-and-coming Horner of the 1980s, who wrote big scores to films like Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, Aliens, and Willow, began yielding to the Horner of the 1990s, who tended to write more introspective music, dominated by strings and low winds, long and dreamy melodies, safer harmonies, and occasional flirtations with Americana. (To Horner's detractors, this may also mark the point at which Horner finally reached the point where he had enough of a body of work that he could begin recycling his own material, as opposed to rather liberally borrowing from classical masters. Anyone who would decry John Williams as being a heavy borrower from classical masters only does so because they haven't explored James Horner too closely. See Alex Ross for details.)
For Field of Dreams, though, Horner writes a score of genuine beauty. A hushed rendition of the main theme, played by a solo horn, accompanies the film's opening credits, which then gives way to a bit of piano solo (played, I think, by Horner himself) that to my ears is as sepia-toned as the still-photos that flash by, slide-show style, to Ray Kinsella's (Kevin Costner's) narration.
Interestingly -- to me, anyway -- is how Horner keeps everything pretty understated until the film's final scene. There's some dark material along the way: sad musical meditations for Ray Kinsella's meditations on his childhood, and fairly dark and mysterious material accompanying pretty much the entire Moonlight Graham subplot (dark material which gives way to more gentle material when young Archie takes the final step to becoming Doc Graham, and then back to some very sad music indeed as Ray realizes the sacrifice Doc has just made on his behalf). But it's only in the very last scene, as dusk is settling and all of the film's conflicts are settled save one, that Horner uncorks his main theme in full force. It's a pretty obvious compositional trick, and there's nothing earth-shaking in the music itself, and yet somehow it always makes me tear up, just a little.
Quoth the Child:
"Is this sad music? Because it's making me feel sad."
So said The Daughter just a few minutes ago (as I'm writing this, as I'm actually publishing the post on Sunday morning). That's the first time, to my recall, that she's ever commented on the emotional fabric of a piece of music. I found that interesting, as well as the fact that I didn't find the music in question (the main theme from Once Upon a Time in the West, from the album Yo Yo Ma plays Ennio Morricone) particularly sad -- certainly beautiful, and maybe elegiac, but not actually sad. But then, The Daughter is only five, so she still has yet to learn the fine gradations to emotions and how to describe them (such as the idea that there are sadnesses that are happy, if that makes sense). For now, I think it's cool that she's relating music to feeling.
So said The Daughter just a few minutes ago (as I'm writing this, as I'm actually publishing the post on Sunday morning). That's the first time, to my recall, that she's ever commented on the emotional fabric of a piece of music. I found that interesting, as well as the fact that I didn't find the music in question (the main theme from Once Upon a Time in the West, from the album Yo Yo Ma plays Ennio Morricone) particularly sad -- certainly beautiful, and maybe elegiac, but not actually sad. But then, The Daughter is only five, so she still has yet to learn the fine gradations to emotions and how to describe them (such as the idea that there are sadnesses that are happy, if that makes sense). For now, I think it's cool that she's relating music to feeling.
Food, fun, new commercials....and a football game too!
Well, it's Super Bowl Sunday, folks. For my non-American readers, that's when we all take breaks from our New Years' Resolutions of health and exercise and whatnot to sit around eating junk food while watching the final two teams alive in the National Football League take each other on for the Super Bowl Championship, the Vince Lombardi Trophy, the right to make commercials for Disney resorts, and -- if the winners are the New England Stupid Patriots -- undying hatred from Yours Truly. O what a wonderful day!
Time for some "Super Thoughts":
:: The other day, the two hosts of one of the Buffalo sports-talk radio shows I listen to were debating on whether the Super Bowl should be moved to Saturdays in the future, or if it should be kept on Sunday. The main idea seems to be that it's hard going to work the day after the Super Bowl, or something like that. I say, Bollocks. Consider the World Series in baseball: unless that thing goes to a Game Six, it's guaranteed to end on a night preceding a work day (Game Seven falls on a Sunday), no matter when it ends (Games Four, Five or Seven). The big complaint about the World Series is that the games start ridiculously late: network coverage opens at 8:00 p.m., with the first pitch coming after lineups, the National Anthem, and so on. The Super Bowl, on the other hand, kicks off by 6:30 p.m. generally, and even with an extended halftime, the game itself is almost always over by 10:00 p.m. In fact, the Super Bowl always ends early enough that the network carrying it has time to put some show on after the game -- sometimes a highly-regarded pilot, other times a special episode of a particularly popular show. If you regularly stay up to catch the late night news, you can stay up to catch the Super Bowl. It's not that demanding.
The better argument comes from the convenience of getting all of the people actually at the Super Bowl site back home. Over the week before the game, thousands of people descend upon the Super Bowl city (this year it's Jacksonville, Florida). And then, all of those people leave again on Monday or Tuesday after the game. Moving the game to Saturday would help alleviate traffic, heavy airport use, et cetera. Or so the argument went. Having never been to a Super Bowl, I wouldn't know. But I just like having the thing on Sunday nights; I suspect that the game would suffer a bit as a "water cooler" topic if it was two days old by the time one went back to work.
(But then, for four years in a row I had to show my face around college the day after the Bills lost the Super Bowl, so there's a reverse argument to be made, too. Hmmmm.)
:: Why the StuPats will win the Super Bowl.
:: Why the Eagles will win the Super Bowl.
:: My prediction? I suppose I should offer one. I've come close, a whole bunch of times, to convincing myself that the Eagles were going to win, but I just can't pick them, much as I'd like to. I'll still be rooting for them, and if they do win, I will of course dance with great joy as the StuPats fall from "dynasty" to "another memorable team that lost the Super Bowl", much like Joe Theissman's Redskins. But I just don't think the scenarios that lead to an Eagles victory are all that likely. Sooner or later Tom Brady is going to look bad in a big game; sooner or later the StuPats' patchwork defense will let them down; sooner or later Adam Vinatieri will honk a big kick; sooner or later some head coach will figure out that Bill Belichick actually doesn't know what he's going to do. But that day isn't today. I'm not looking for a StuPat blowout -- rhetoric aside, the StuPats aren't the 1989 49ers, and the Eagles aren't the 1989 Broncos, so no StuPat 55-10 win here -- but I am expecting a fairly convincing win, something along the lines of StuPats 30, Eagles 17. And then, of course, the Archangels of Heaven will descend and elevate Bill Belichick and Tom Brady into the sky, where their spirits shall inhabit two new stars which shall shine down upon our fragile globe, thus ushering in a new era of Peace and Goodness on Earth.
Oh, Eagles, please! Make it stop!
Time for some "Super Thoughts":
:: The other day, the two hosts of one of the Buffalo sports-talk radio shows I listen to were debating on whether the Super Bowl should be moved to Saturdays in the future, or if it should be kept on Sunday. The main idea seems to be that it's hard going to work the day after the Super Bowl, or something like that. I say, Bollocks. Consider the World Series in baseball: unless that thing goes to a Game Six, it's guaranteed to end on a night preceding a work day (Game Seven falls on a Sunday), no matter when it ends (Games Four, Five or Seven). The big complaint about the World Series is that the games start ridiculously late: network coverage opens at 8:00 p.m., with the first pitch coming after lineups, the National Anthem, and so on. The Super Bowl, on the other hand, kicks off by 6:30 p.m. generally, and even with an extended halftime, the game itself is almost always over by 10:00 p.m. In fact, the Super Bowl always ends early enough that the network carrying it has time to put some show on after the game -- sometimes a highly-regarded pilot, other times a special episode of a particularly popular show. If you regularly stay up to catch the late night news, you can stay up to catch the Super Bowl. It's not that demanding.
The better argument comes from the convenience of getting all of the people actually at the Super Bowl site back home. Over the week before the game, thousands of people descend upon the Super Bowl city (this year it's Jacksonville, Florida). And then, all of those people leave again on Monday or Tuesday after the game. Moving the game to Saturday would help alleviate traffic, heavy airport use, et cetera. Or so the argument went. Having never been to a Super Bowl, I wouldn't know. But I just like having the thing on Sunday nights; I suspect that the game would suffer a bit as a "water cooler" topic if it was two days old by the time one went back to work.
(But then, for four years in a row I had to show my face around college the day after the Bills lost the Super Bowl, so there's a reverse argument to be made, too. Hmmmm.)
:: Why the StuPats will win the Super Bowl.
:: Why the Eagles will win the Super Bowl.
:: My prediction? I suppose I should offer one. I've come close, a whole bunch of times, to convincing myself that the Eagles were going to win, but I just can't pick them, much as I'd like to. I'll still be rooting for them, and if they do win, I will of course dance with great joy as the StuPats fall from "dynasty" to "another memorable team that lost the Super Bowl", much like Joe Theissman's Redskins. But I just don't think the scenarios that lead to an Eagles victory are all that likely. Sooner or later Tom Brady is going to look bad in a big game; sooner or later the StuPats' patchwork defense will let them down; sooner or later Adam Vinatieri will honk a big kick; sooner or later some head coach will figure out that Bill Belichick actually doesn't know what he's going to do. But that day isn't today. I'm not looking for a StuPat blowout -- rhetoric aside, the StuPats aren't the 1989 49ers, and the Eagles aren't the 1989 Broncos, so no StuPat 55-10 win here -- but I am expecting a fairly convincing win, something along the lines of StuPats 30, Eagles 17. And then, of course, the Archangels of Heaven will descend and elevate Bill Belichick and Tom Brady into the sky, where their spirits shall inhabit two new stars which shall shine down upon our fragile globe, thus ushering in a new era of Peace and Goodness on Earth.
Oh, Eagles, please! Make it stop!
Saturday, February 05, 2005
Wow, I didn't see THAT happening....
I left a couple of pithy comments over here last week (of the "Quit picking on liberals!" variety)...and she designates Byzantium's Shores as her "Link of the Week", because I challenged her and made her think. I'm grateful for that, especially since after leaving each comment I later thought, "Hmmm, I wonder if I was too pissy there." I guess that one person's "pissy" is another person's "thought-provoking", eh? Maybe I should infuse the posts here with more pissyness? Is that even a word?
(Oh, and speaking of Links of the Week, I completely forgot to do an Image of the Week last week, and I couldn't find anything that really tripped my trigger for the "Burst of Weirdness". Sorry about both. For a belated Image of Last Week, go here. The tear at the corner of that woman's eye makes the whole photo. It's very striking; thanks to Graham for posting it.)
(Oh, and speaking of Links of the Week, I completely forgot to do an Image of the Week last week, and I couldn't find anything that really tripped my trigger for the "Burst of Weirdness". Sorry about both. For a belated Image of Last Week, go here. The tear at the corner of that woman's eye makes the whole photo. It's very striking; thanks to Graham for posting it.)
A Very Public Service Message
At some recent point, Jessica Duchen's blog has accrued some kind of pop-up ad thing that appears as soon as one navigates away from her blog. According to one of her commenters, the culprit is the webcounter she's been using, freewebcounter.com. It might not be a bad idea to spread the word that these folks force annoying pop-ups on the sites using them. Idiots.
Like sighting a passenger pigeon in the wild....
It turns out that Craig of BUFFALOg is something I thought I'd never see, ever: he's a non-obnoxious Objectivist. I find that absolutely amazing, given that until now, every admirer of Ayn Rand's philosophy I have ever encountered is unimaginably irritating and obnoxious, like the creepy guy on the FilmScoreMonthly message boards who recently called me "sick" and "evil" because my views stubbornly don't align with his. It's very refreshing to find an Objectivist who, at the merest hint of disagreement from someone, doesn't start droning on about "A=A" and "the Law of Non-Contradictory Indentification" and taking the usual tactic of "Ayn Rand prized Reason above all else, I love Ayn Rand, therefore I prize Reason above all else, therefore my views are by definition reasonable and yours are not". Wow. And here I was being already amazed that Craig is a non-obnoxious Republican! [rimshot]
I read Rand's "heavy hitters", The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged, the summer after I graduated college (or maybe a year after that), and I was not impressed with either book, neither from the philosophical standpoint nor from the literary standpoint. (I fail, for example, to see what's so admirable about Howard Roark -- an ass who is rock-hard consistent in his ass-ness is still an ass, isn't he?) I found Rand's work to be one goofy thought after another, contained in one goofy sentence after another, and since then I've pretty much been completely mystified over the level of admiration that has accrued around her. But then, when it comes to philosophy-drenched novels, Robert M. Pirsig has always been more my speed.
BTW, here's another good article about the Rand-cult. Craig's entirely correct that Objectivism probably shouldn't be strictly equated with the Rand-cult; but my experience runs to the contrary, in that until I read Craig's post, I never once encountered any adherent of Objectivism who wasn't also a big-time drinker of the Rand-cult's flavor of Kool-Aid. (What flavor would that be, I wonder? I suspect it would be some kind of horrible melange of melon and pineapple.)
UPDATE: Via Bookslut I see this bizarro example of Rand-cultist-speak. This, unlike Craig's blog, is how every Randian I've ever encountered has spoken, no matter what the topic:
I read Rand's "heavy hitters", The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged, the summer after I graduated college (or maybe a year after that), and I was not impressed with either book, neither from the philosophical standpoint nor from the literary standpoint. (I fail, for example, to see what's so admirable about Howard Roark -- an ass who is rock-hard consistent in his ass-ness is still an ass, isn't he?) I found Rand's work to be one goofy thought after another, contained in one goofy sentence after another, and since then I've pretty much been completely mystified over the level of admiration that has accrued around her. But then, when it comes to philosophy-drenched novels, Robert M. Pirsig has always been more my speed.
BTW, here's another good article about the Rand-cult. Craig's entirely correct that Objectivism probably shouldn't be strictly equated with the Rand-cult; but my experience runs to the contrary, in that until I read Craig's post, I never once encountered any adherent of Objectivism who wasn't also a big-time drinker of the Rand-cult's flavor of Kool-Aid. (What flavor would that be, I wonder? I suspect it would be some kind of horrible melange of melon and pineapple.)
UPDATE: Via Bookslut I see this bizarro example of Rand-cultist-speak. This, unlike Craig's blog, is how every Randian I've ever encountered has spoken, no matter what the topic:
A recipe is not a concept per se. It is, rather, a conceptual listing. A recipe is comprised of: 1) a formal and repeatable listing of the ingredients; 2) the specific, objective procedure by which those ingredients are to be integrated into a viable, non-contradictory whole; 3) a stipulation of the temperature at which and duration for which the food is to be cooked; and finally, 4) an explication of the manner and terms in which the food is to be served—served to man.
It should be obvious, here, that in this context, "service" is not be taken as "self-sacrifice." Ayn Rand rejected the notion of cooking and dish preparation as a form of self-sacrificial service. Only producers deserve to consume, Ayn Rand believed. And then, only if they consume rationally. Ayn Rand could not abide irrational eating, and did not permit it in her presence.
According to Ayn Rand, a recipe permits a range of options in the amounts of the specific ingredients and in the temporal order of their integration—but this range is objectively delimited by the nature, the identity of the dish being prepared, which in turn is defined and programmed by the recipe, which specifies the measurements and gives the methodology.
If a recipe describes a "pinch of salt," for example, any minor variations in the size of the pinch are all well and good, and we may omit the measurement of the variation in our measurement of the overall amount. But it would be impermissible to add a tablespoon of salt to the mixing bowl, let alone a cup.
Good Lord. You see, for the Randian it would be impermissable to add a cup of salt when a pinch is called for because it would be "irrational" and "contradictory" to do so. For a normal person, it would be impermissable to do so because the end result would taste like shit.
In my experience, whenever a Randian opens his or her mouth, I immediately open the nearest window and turn on all the fans.
Search Engine Follies
Lynn Sislo on people who don't know how to use search engines correctly:
There are a lot of people of all ages who don't know how to use the Internet or else they are so lazy they expect they can type in a word or two and whatever they want will instantly appear on the screen. The apparent notion that any website that comes up on a Google search is somehow obligated to have the information the searcher is looking for is laughable.
Heh, indeed, and all that. While I haven't had anyone actually attack me for not having the information they're looking for (which should be apparent from the Google results anyway, since Google provides the relevant snippet of quotage from the web site in question, thus making it fairly obvious that maybe the search term results are coming from entirely different sentences and/or posts), anyone who maintains a blog for even a short while soon notices the kind of strange search engine queries that bring people calling. Most are benign, of course -- someone looking for something happens upon the possibility that a post of mine may have mentioned what they've been looking for, and they come calling.
But then there are the truly bizarre search engine requests. I'm not talking about the ever-surprised soft-porn requests that somehow lead people here, but the just-plain-strangely worded Google requests in the first place. This is what I sometimes think of as the "Star Trek Library Computer" view of the Internet. Remember that episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation in which some aliens tried to help some poor off-course human space explorer by building a replica of the hotel described in the trashy novel he'd been reading for him to live in, under the assumption that the novel depicted a proper human habitat? And how, upon discovering this two centuries later, Captain Picard orders the Enterprise computer to display the text of the novel (which, judging by the episode's subtext, had probably not been read since those very aliens had found it), and the computer pops up the text in seconds? (Picard starts reading, and sure enough, the book opens with, "It was a dark and stormy night...")
I think that people expect the Net to basically be the proto-version of the Star Trek computer: a repository of every single bit of content ever generated by the Hand of Man. And judging by the odd phrasing of search-engine requests, they think that search engines constitute the interface through which they access this information (fair enough), and that they approach that interface in the same way. This, of course, is wrong. Wrongity-wrong. Returning to Star Trek, remember that bit in Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home when Scotty, encountering a 1986-era Macintosh, picks up the mouse and tries to talk into it? That's the exact same level of misunderstanding here. People think that a search engine is like a reference librarian: you tell it what you want, and then it goes off and comes back with exactly what you want. And more, you don't have to evaluate what's been provided; all you have to do is take your information and go on your merry way. The idea that the searcher may have some responsibility for making sure they've found what they want seems unheard of.
And that's why we see Google requests phrased really strangely. If a person's looking for, say, an exploration of the themes in Berlioz's Romeo et Juliet Symphony, instead of seeing a Google search phrased like this:
themes Berlioz "Romeo et Juliet"
I'll see things like this:
Give me information on the themes in Berlioz's Romeo and Juliet symphony
And then there are some truly hilarious ones. I can't remember where I saw it, but I once encountered a Google request phrased something like this:
Give me Barry Bonds's stats for 1996. I repeat, 1996. Not 1997.
I'm not making that up. I can't recall what the person was actually looking for, but the "I repeat..." phrase was there.
So what's the problem? Well, it's twofold: first, lots of people don't know how to effectively look for information in the first place, and second, lots of people don't know how to actually evaluate the information they find, once they've found it. This all seems to me fairly problematic, given how often I read that we are now living in the "Age of Information".
[Cheeks reddening]
OK, I feel a bit unsavory linking this, but Jennifer has some ideas for Valentine's Day gifts for single women. This stuff may not be safe for work -- in more ways than one, if you know what I mean.
And no, I don't know what you'd do with most of this stuff...nosiree, Bob...um...ahem...hey, how 'bout those Eagles!
And no, I don't know what you'd do with most of this stuff...nosiree, Bob...um...ahem...hey, how 'bout those Eagles!
But are the passages twisty and all alike?
Will Duquette has been doing some work on a computer game for his own children, and he's been posting a bit on the issues that come up in game design and how to address those issues from the computer-code standpoint. Now, I don't know much at all about programming computers (assuming a value of "very nearly zero" for "not much at all"), but reading about the issues themselves is pretty interesting -- such as this post of Will's about mazes.
I hope that Will's game will include the possibility of being eaten by a grue if the player's lamp goes out....
I hope that Will's game will include the possibility of being eaten by a grue if the player's lamp goes out....
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Fixing the barn door, after the horse has come home
Buffalo's NBC affiliate, WGRZ, did a bunch of investigative-type stuff into wasteful spending in the Erie County government, mostly pertaining to patronage jobs to "friends and family" of County Executive Joel Giambra (who recently had an old buddy on the payroll as his personal driver, making over $80,000 a year before the outcry made Giambra reassign his buddy to the Parks Department, where he's now scraping by on $73,000 a year). It was pretty disgusting an eye-opening.
But also disgusting was the little "mutual admiration society" that surrounded this bit of reportage, with nearly every on-air personality at Channel 2 congratulating the reporters for their dogged pursuit of this story. Not only do I find it incredibly annoying when TV news people tell us how great their news is ("You heard it here first!" could almost be Buffalo's official motto), but I also remember that nary a peep of this kind of thing was heard back in fall of 2003, when Joel Giambra was running for re-election.
But also disgusting was the little "mutual admiration society" that surrounded this bit of reportage, with nearly every on-air personality at Channel 2 congratulating the reporters for their dogged pursuit of this story. Not only do I find it incredibly annoying when TV news people tell us how great their news is ("You heard it here first!" could almost be Buffalo's official motto), but I also remember that nary a peep of this kind of thing was heard back in fall of 2003, when Joel Giambra was running for re-election.
AGGHHH!!!
Why, O why, would the powers-that-be decide to open the new Hayao Miyazaki film, Howl's Moving Castle, just two weeks after the new Star Wars movie opens?! Ack!
Also, the New Yorker apparently ran an article about Miyazaki in a recent issue, and the writer of that article gives an interview on the subject. Why they couldn't just put the article in question online is beyond me, but hey, that's what libraries are for.
Also, the New Yorker apparently ran an article about Miyazaki in a recent issue, and the writer of that article gives an interview on the subject. Why they couldn't just put the article in question online is beyond me, but hey, that's what libraries are for.
Whose President is he?
Dear Mr. President,
Since I am an American citizen, you are my President, whether I voted for you or not, whether I agree with your policies or not, whether I agree with the direction you wish to set for this country or not. If I want to be able to attend a speech by you, and I can get a ticket, I should be able to do just that. It distresses me, as an American citizen, that apparently those who work for you disagree.
(link via Oliver Willis)
Since I am an American citizen, you are my President, whether I voted for you or not, whether I agree with your policies or not, whether I agree with the direction you wish to set for this country or not. If I want to be able to attend a speech by you, and I can get a ticket, I should be able to do just that. It distresses me, as an American citizen, that apparently those who work for you disagree.
(link via Oliver Willis)
It's about...layers. Lots of layers.
[Navel-gazing about clothes here]
Over the last few months I've come to like the "layered" look, in terms of clothing. I've never been much into layers before, beyond the occasional mock turtleneck (I've never tried a real turtleneck) under a sweater, but now I find myself doing the "long-sleeve t-shirt under a short-sleeve henley" thing, or some such variant. Part of this stems from work, where I've pretty much been layering ever since I got hired at The Store. I've always been one to generate a bit of sweat -- not quite to the levels of a Norm Peterson from Cheers, of whom Carla once said, "We could grow rice!", but I do start to get uncomfortably warm at temperatures most other people consider pleasantly temperate, so I started layering to keep my work-provided shirts with The Store's logo from getting a bit too, shall we say, aromatic. But now I see that the layered look is pretty "in", and I like the look, so I've adopted it.
The only thing really interesting to me about this development is the fact that to this day, I still tend to adopt those fashion statements that are achievable with clothes I already own. If I have to go out and spend money to upgrade my wardrobe in order to keep up with a fashion trend, my general response is still to ignore the trend.
Over the last few months I've come to like the "layered" look, in terms of clothing. I've never been much into layers before, beyond the occasional mock turtleneck (I've never tried a real turtleneck) under a sweater, but now I find myself doing the "long-sleeve t-shirt under a short-sleeve henley" thing, or some such variant. Part of this stems from work, where I've pretty much been layering ever since I got hired at The Store. I've always been one to generate a bit of sweat -- not quite to the levels of a Norm Peterson from Cheers, of whom Carla once said, "We could grow rice!", but I do start to get uncomfortably warm at temperatures most other people consider pleasantly temperate, so I started layering to keep my work-provided shirts with The Store's logo from getting a bit too, shall we say, aromatic. But now I see that the layered look is pretty "in", and I like the look, so I've adopted it.
The only thing really interesting to me about this development is the fact that to this day, I still tend to adopt those fashion statements that are achievable with clothes I already own. If I have to go out and spend money to upgrade my wardrobe in order to keep up with a fashion trend, my general response is still to ignore the trend.
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
Lazy Linkage
Just some stuff today:
:: The Buffalo News has been running a series on Scientology (which, by the way, really creeps me out). I'm being too lazy to link all four articles, but Julia has them.
:: I don't really have much interest in French cooking, but this site is interesting, and its design is just terrific. Seriously, that's a great looking web site.
:: Via Lynn Sislo, a nifty-looking site devoted to the Japanese Tea Ceremony.
:: Craig at BUFFALOg is concerned that apparently high-schoolers right now think that freedom of the press should be curtailed. Oy. These are the next generation of American voters, folks.
:: ACD doesn't get the appeal of Star Wars. I mean, he really doesn't get the appeal of Star Wars. He asks for an explanation, but I don't think he'd come anywhere near buying my own personal explanation, since I reject most of his premises (that the movies are dumb, the acting terrible, and the special effects laughable, for starters). Anyhow, links to a few of my ruminations on Star Wars are available in the sidebar.
:: I've seen this interview with a comments-spammer linked a number of times. Since I use YACCS commenting, I never get comments-spam, which I suspect is because YACCS comment pages are not archived by Google (or whatever the term may be). So there's nothing to be gained from comments-spamming blogs like mine. Which makes me wonder why more non-search engine indexed blog commenting systems aren't coming on line; I suspect that they'd have newfound popularity given the increasing annoyance of comments-spam.
OK, enough for today. Gotta watchthe State of the Union last night's Scrubs.
(I've updated this post a couple of times.)
:: The Buffalo News has been running a series on Scientology (which, by the way, really creeps me out). I'm being too lazy to link all four articles, but Julia has them.
:: I don't really have much interest in French cooking, but this site is interesting, and its design is just terrific. Seriously, that's a great looking web site.
:: Via Lynn Sislo, a nifty-looking site devoted to the Japanese Tea Ceremony.
:: Craig at BUFFALOg is concerned that apparently high-schoolers right now think that freedom of the press should be curtailed. Oy. These are the next generation of American voters, folks.
:: ACD doesn't get the appeal of Star Wars. I mean, he really doesn't get the appeal of Star Wars. He asks for an explanation, but I don't think he'd come anywhere near buying my own personal explanation, since I reject most of his premises (that the movies are dumb, the acting terrible, and the special effects laughable, for starters). Anyhow, links to a few of my ruminations on Star Wars are available in the sidebar.
:: I've seen this interview with a comments-spammer linked a number of times. Since I use YACCS commenting, I never get comments-spam, which I suspect is because YACCS comment pages are not archived by Google (or whatever the term may be). So there's nothing to be gained from comments-spamming blogs like mine. Which makes me wonder why more non-search engine indexed blog commenting systems aren't coming on line; I suspect that they'd have newfound popularity given the increasing annoyance of comments-spam.
OK, enough for today. Gotta watch
(I've updated this post a couple of times.)
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Hey, I wanna sign up too....
Alan of BuffaloPundit isn't terribly impressed with the apparent plans by the Administration and its allies in Congress to shift health-care costs from employers to directly on individuals. I'm not terribly impressed with this either (anybody care to take a guess as to whether or not The Wife and I make anywhere near enough to pay for Little Quinn's medical expenses out-of-pocket?), although I do think that something will eventually come to a head as more and more employers chafe under the ever-increasing costs of healthcare.
My question about this plan, though, is this: just how much of the monetary savings to employers who will no longer be paying for health insurance plans on their employees' behalf will be passed on to the employees, in the form of increases wages or salary? Somehow I doubt it will be much. Add in the fact that individuals aren't going to be able to get the cheaper bulk rates for insurance that companies get, and...well, gee whiz, hand me the pen so I can sign right up.
UPDATE: In Reuters today a story with this chilling opening graf appears:
My question about this plan, though, is this: just how much of the monetary savings to employers who will no longer be paying for health insurance plans on their employees' behalf will be passed on to the employees, in the form of increases wages or salary? Somehow I doubt it will be much. Add in the fact that individuals aren't going to be able to get the cheaper bulk rates for insurance that companies get, and...well, gee whiz, hand me the pen so I can sign right up.
UPDATE: In Reuters today a story with this chilling opening graf appears:
Half of all U.S. bankruptcies are caused by soaring medical bills and most people sent into debt by illness are middle-class workers with health insurance, researchers said on Wednesday.
Somehow I suspect that in a "Take care of getting and paying for your own insurance all by yourself" system, the proportion of bankruptcies caused by illnesses would go nowhere but up.
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