Showing posts with label computers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label computers. Show all posts

Saturday, February 28, 2026

Memory full.

No matter how advanced computers get, we still find ways to fill them up with so much running crap that they wind up lagging and lollygagging. Then we have to get new computers that can run that crap properly, until we fill them up again. 

Unfortunately this is not an option with my brain, which resists all upgrades. 

During the stressful period in which I am slogging, I have found my dreams to be unreasonably detailed. Not clever or smart, but loaded with data. I might be traveling down a quiet road and find myself without warning in a rural neighborhood; the neighborhood is fully populated with people and their dogs, and I'm invited to have a look at someone's vast library (of course I can read none of the titles but the books are in all kinds of colors and conditions). Or I am trying to ride the subway along with enough people to make up the cast of Ghandi, and every grotty detail is visible but not the stations or where we're going. 

All this leaves me as tired when I wake up as when I went to sleep. I'm running new software on my old hardware, you see, and something has to slow down somewhere. 

Why do we go through all these mental gymnastics anyway, when all we want is rest? These days most scientists from which I've heard think that the purpose of dreaming has to do with learning and memory, a way of sorting out the data. It's possible, but my dreams seldom deal with anything in my life at present. I dream about commuting more that you'd think possible, and I haven't had to do that in years. Still, who really knows? 

Compounding the riddle of dreaming is that we smarty-pants humans are not the only ones who do it. We know for certain that dogs dream, always running with li'l paws or boofing out barks in their sleep. It's really cute. Less cute is that, according to a piece in the Smithsonian, lots of animals are dreaming: 

Young jumping spiders dangle by a thread through the night, in a box, in a lab. Every so often, their legs curl and their spinnerets twitch—and the retinas of their eyes, visible through their translucent exoskeletons, shift back and forth.

“What these spiders are doing seems to be resembling—very closely—REM sleep,” says Daniela Rößler, a behavioral ecologist at the University of Konstanz in Germany. 

I feel worse for knowing that spiders dream. ABOUT WHAT? 

The article does note that we still don't know dreaming is about, whether we're man, dog, bug, or eucalyptus plant. (NB: Nothing about dreaming vegetables in that article.) It's mysterious, and it wears me out.  



I'm with the late great Mitch Hedberg on this topic: 

Dreaming is work, you know - there I am in a comfortable bed, the next thing you know I have to build a go-kart with my ex-landlord. I want a dream of me watching myself sleep.

Right on, sleepy brother. 

Monday, August 19, 2024

Crypto security!

Friends, America is once again in danger of voting for communist leadership, and we know that will mean more towering inflation, more recession, more crime. So, should you invest in gold? Hah! You know as well as I do that with the price of gold these days, your life savings could be reduced to a nugget that you could hide in your underpants. Even if you wear thongs. And if you do, please don't tell me.

No, I know you want to put your American dollars into a good, solid cryptocurrency. One of the big-name outfits like Bitcoin or HodagCoin something, right? 

Heck, no! Not only are those cryptos overhyphed, but they're ruining the world for nothing! Just look at this item from The Guardian. Computer data is sucking energy out of everything, and the world of artificial intelligence is just getting started.  


With the refusal of our betters to make more power plants, use more natural gas, and fire up more nukes, all this computing is bound to help drive your energy costs up. And so much of this computing is just junk data storage. 

Supposedly as much as two percent of all US energy generation is going just to mine cryptos. The useful being wasted on the meaningless. It's a shame. 

Unless you buy all-natural, all-awesome Fredcoin! 

Not only is Fredcoin better for the environment, it's safer, too! 

You think other cryptocurrencies are really secure? You can blockchain all you want; every crypto account is attached to a network, and every better mousetrap invites a better mouse. 

That's where good ol' reliable American FREDCOIN is once again proven to be the superior cryptocurrency!

Why? Because we don't run some fancy juice-sucking AI-empowered computer network, vulnerable to hackers or disgruntled employees or any other kind of jerkface weenie money-stealers. No, we have taken important steps to make sure our database is never in danger from bad actors on the Internet. I absolutely guarantee it! 

But how, Fred? you ask, astonished. Nothing on the Internet of Things is really safe!

Well, you put your finger right on the answer. Behold the secret of our security -- the master computer that runs the whole Fredcoin empire: A Tandy TRS-80 Model 4P!


“Ol’ Smoky Joe”

That's right -- Ol' Smoky is not and cannot be connected to the Internet, so all its information is as secure as a safe deposit box. It would have to be physically hacked, and that's not happening. Anyone who tries to break in here will have to face the jaws of doom (golden retriever Izzy) and my angry wife with a Louisville Slugger. 

Furthermore, the Tandy uses way, way less energy than all those big wasteful computers run by the hypocrites in Silicon Valley, the nerds who want you to keep your A/C at 85 degrees while they suck up all the juice to make lousy art with people with twenty fingers. 

All you do is send in your Fredcoin order with some of that soon-to-be-worthless US currency. Our crack staff (me) will put it in your account, and Ol' Smoky Joe will do the rest. It's a flawless system! It's completely safe! And if the grid goes down, the Tandy can be powered by our emergency crew of hamsters, just standing by to run that wheel.  

So don't go messing around with those ridiculous cryptos that can be wiped out because the founder lost the password. Mess around with Fredcoin, the crypto that's as solid as Radio Shack itself! With Ol’ Smoky, 26 pounds of computin’ fury, you can’t go wrong.

Thursday, March 28, 2024

Smart cart? Or dumb?

ShopRite, my favorite local supermarket, has gone beyond testing robots for pushing candy, as I noted with the adventures of Smiley in 2021. Nay, it has gone further, past even the inventory robot named Tally, discovered by me last October. Now we're entering the brave new world of the smart cart. 

Out: Smartcars. In: Smartcarts. 

The Caper Cart, a shopping cart supposedly driven by artificial intelligence, has been developed by Instacart and is being field-tested in ShopRite markets.



Here's how Instacart describes these new wonders:

Caper Carts are part of Instacart’s Connected Stores suite of technologies, built to help grocers bridge the online and in-store shopping experience. By using computer vision and AI, the cart can automatically identify items as they are placed in the basket, allowing customers to bag as they shop and checkout directly from the cart. Customer reception to Caper Carts has been strong with users offering a net promoter score of more than 70. In addition to the new ad capabilities, customers appreciate the ability to link their loyalty accounts to the carts, giving them access to personalized promotions and savings while shopping in-store. 

This doesn't sound like AI so much as old-fashioned computer coding -- the computer reading the bar code on what you put in the cart and spewing ads that are paid for. As I've said before, AI in the 2020s is like dot com in the 1990s, a frosting you have to put on every cake to sell it. Still, the idea of avoiding the checkout would make the shopping process faster and easier, so I can't argue with that advantage. Of course, the upselling of crap while you shop will also make it more irritating. The main advantage to the store is customizing ads based on what you put in the cart, which online retailers have been doing for decades. Imagine putting hemorrhoid cream in the wagon discreetly, and your cart starts bleating an ad for adult diapers.

Lucas Frau of NorthJersey.com took one for a test drive, and explains the supposed advantages:

Some fellow shoppers found the cart amusing, with one saying, "Do you got blinkers on that thing?"

Sure, the build of the cart feels a little heavier than your average metal rolling bin. And yes, it lights up like a Christmas tree when you put an item in the basket. Don’t be alarmed.

He explains that the cart registers whatever you get, even weighing produce, and keeps a running list of what's been put in it. If you put something back on the shelf, its removal from the cart is also noted. At the end, you just wheel the cart to the checkout area designated for smart carts and pay -- no need to unload and reload the cart. 

Loyalty card holders may like the carts the best, Frau says, but the sheer weight of the cart may make it less attractive to other shoppers.

The shopping may be easier if you are a Price Plus member, because you can see the deals and where items are found. The average shopper, however, may not feel that lugging the cart is worth it to save a few minutes at the self-checkout.

I am skeptical, especially since I've used too many carts with bad wheels. If stores can't keep the wheels turning, what are the odds that they can keep delicate electronics working? 

If I get a chance to try one, you'd better believe you'll be hearing about it. Until then, Shopinator II: Judgment Day will have to wait. 

Sunday, March 3, 2024

A plea for reviews.


Well, artificial intelligence and the idiots who use it are certainly trying to make things worse for everybody already. 

Apparently the weenies are cranking out AI-generated books and "flooding" Amazon's publishing platform, among others. They are using it in some cases to take bread out of the mouths of specific writers, as Wired noted, publishing "books" that are just summaries of the actual authors' works but keeping the dough for themselves. 

Even if the work posted is original (meaning, generated by AI as its own piece of garbage, not a piece of garbage piggybacking on an existing work), these "authors" are unleashing a tsunami of computer-generated crap among the actual books, making it harder to find anything worth reading.

Amazon's efforts to combat this so far have been surprisingly low-tech -- asking "Is this AI-generated content?" (Oh, no, I wouldn't do that, Mr. Amazon!) and restricting book uploads to three a day, which for a single account is almost a hundred a month. The bits-and-giggles crowd doesn't care; they just hope to fool enough people to make a few bucks by doing next to nothing. 

My plea today is simple, for all authors, not just me, not just self-published ones: If you've read a book, please leave a review. It's a way to separate a real book from the fake ones, maybe the only way a searcher can find something that's real. Without a number of reviews, search engines tend to ignore books when compiling results. Sure, the weenies can make fake reviews, but that starts to sound like work.  

Seriously, even if you didn't much like the book, leave a review. I think it's fair to say most writers would rather fail on their own merits than because no one knew they were even there. If no one ever finds you, no one can ever read you.  

Thank you very much for hearing my plea. Skynet may not take over the world, but it sure is making it even harder for writers and artists to find an audience.  

Thursday, November 9, 2023

Stay out of jail with Fredcoin!

As CEO of the world's finest crytocurrency, Fredcoin, I get a lot of questions from customers and prospective customers. (Everyone falls into one of those two camps, when you think about it.) They say, "Fred, how can you and your company be so awesome every single day?" And I just smile and pat them on the shoulder. 

Or not, since no one's asked me that. 

YET.

A more likely question is, "Fred, now that Sam Bankman-Fried is looking at a jail sentence longer than the expected life of the sun, doesn't that make you a little nervous?"

Well, first I chuckle and mansplain that the sun is going to last longer than the 110 years he might get. Then they remind me that unless some really hot anti-agathics come along, 110 years and five billion years are effectively the same to a thirty-one-year-old like him. 


I guess Sam still has some fans.


But don't worry about me. I've taken important -- dare I say Key -- steps to make certain I won't wind up in jail. The first is I don't have a wacky girlfriend who will turn state's evidence on me. That's crucial. For another, I don't do drugs and crunch the keyboard for days at a time. Anyone doing that is going to make a big mistake eventually, whether he's honest or not. Third, I haven't tacked on fake companies and charities to steal from. And fourth, I haven't bothered trying to buy any politicians. It's a bad investment. They break down, they violate their own warranties, they throw you under the bus at the first smell of trouble. It's a waste of money. And fifth -- 

There was a fifth reason -- can't recall offhand. Maybe not important.

Oh, wait! That's right! I've done nothing illegal! Ha ha! Totally forgot! No illegality here! No sir! Just honest Fred!

I also haven't set up any weird offshore locations. I wanted to, but other countries looked at my company and said, Meh, why don't you just stay over there and out of here. 

So you needn't worry at all about ol' Fred and his ol' Fredcoin. Just send me money, and I'll invest it in Fredcoin, and you can watch your crypto value stay the same while the US government does its best to ruin its own currency. 

And if the government does come for me -- no doubt out of jealousy -- I have an insider within the court system to help me look good. 



Thursday, September 28, 2023

AI yi yi yi yi.

Movie plots are strange, sad beasts. 

When films were more formulaic, they were sad because they were predictable. Like: Boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl back. Murder is discovered and clues are unearthed to solve the mystery. Bad boy meets good girl and reforms. Party sets out and overcomes deadly obstacles to achieve goal. 

Then the plots got tortured to upend the expectations of the viewers. The cop is bad! The father is bad! The mother is bad! The bum is good! And eventually you'd know that the cop was the bad guy and the useless bum the good guy within five minutes, because the upended expectation was the new norm.

Then they got mangled because filmmakers were so in love with visuals that they threw the plot into the toilet and flushed and plunged until it went away. "We need a volcano to erupt here!" "Everyone should fall out the twelfth-story window and punch on the way down and survive!" "Wouldn't it be awesome if the moon exploded?" 

If that isn't enough, test audiences were brought in to torture the plot some more. Don't let the couple break up! Don't kill the boy! Don't kill the dog! Don't let the bad guy get away! Don't let baby Ashton strangle himself to death in the womb! (Hey, I didn't say the test audiences were all wrong.)

But why screw these things up on our own, when we can get technology to do it for us? 

If you look at startups these days, it's all AI, all the time. But I was still surprised when a friend pointed out a company called StoryFit, a Texas-based (do I have to say Austin?) company that aims to take your script and use artificial intelligence to make it awesome. 




"StoryFit's AI technology platform helps you understand the true value of your story and how to best reach your audience."

"StoryFit brings together insightful perspectives, industry expertise, and content analytics from our team of thought leaders to help you stay ahead of the curve in the ever-evolving world of storytelling."

"Learn how StoryFit champions creatives by helping them uncover white spaces for creative development, understand story elements that make their content special, and position their stories in the best places to succeed. By measuring thousands of story elements across thousands of stories, StoryFit expands creativity into new dimensions."

We created 100s of proprietary models to measure 100,000+ story components matched against millions of audience data points to create the best possible opportunity for success.”

So, this is kind of depressing. 

First off, stories are human things if they're any good. Who needs artificial intelligence monkeying around with human storytelling? If we can't think up decent stories on our own (and, Hollywood aside, I think we still can), then can we even enjoy good stories anymore? Are we eager to kick experience and inspiration to the curb in exchange for machine learning?

In some golden age science fiction worlds, people were freed from drudgery by Science! and allowed to devote themselves to arts and other creative endeavors. So now the computers have to take that away too? Aren't professional writers already panicking enough about losing their jobs to AI? Yes, the stuff produced by computers is lousy so far, but thanks to companies like StoryFit it's going to get better. Will it matter that the Writers' Guild settled its strike if the writers will be erased anyway?

It’s depressing, therefore, because it reminds us how much our popular culture sucks, how much intellectual space we're giving over to computers, and how quickly we're racing to make our species obsolete. 

The people at StoryFit seem nice enough, but I really can't wish them well. If we can't tell good stories without computer aid, we ought to stop entirely. If we're that creatively bankrupt, we're done. 

Saturday, July 22, 2023

Bananas!

One of the supermarkets nearby charges a little more for everything, but you pay for the convenience. It's an easy-in, easy-out kind of shop, ideal for someone just looking to get the fixings for dinner and not much else. Consequently its self-checkout is very popular. I've been listening to electronic voice of the self-checkout computer for years. 

The other day I swung in to get some items that were not available for whatever reason in the bigger store, and while there I got... BANANAS. Why do I cap? Because when you have to weigh produce, the self-checkout computer voice -- I call her Cloris -- has to walk you through the process. And I could hear her in my mind as I made my way to the self-checkout.

You press the button on the screen for produce and the fun begins. "Select the item from the list." Press the button for bananas. 

"Place your . . . BANANAS . . . on the scanner."

Bananas placed. Price calculated. 

"Remove your . . . BANANAS . . . to the checkout area."

I'm not sure of the wording, but that pause before and after loudly announcing the fruit or vegetable of choice sticks with me. Cloris makes those pauses pregnant, and you can almost hear the judgment in her voice. I swear, I'm not going to do anything strange with the BANANAS, Cloris! I just want them for my cornflakes. 



Perhaps she doesn't believe me. Bananas are cheap. They don't have a bar code for her to scan, unlike pints of blueberries and some other things you can get from the produce section. Maybe she thinks I'm weighing dragonfruit or some expensive crap like that on the scale and saying it's bananas. She knows my little scam. 

"Remove your . . . SO-CALLED BANANAS . . . to the checkout area."

I wouldn't do that to you, Cloris! Trust is the cornerstone of our relationship! 

Maybe I should just wait on line for the cashier. this whole thing could be driving me nuts. 

"Place your . . . NUTS . . . on the scanner."

Do not tempt fate, Cloris! 

Wednesday, November 9, 2022

MS KMA.

When I was a kid, the schools were closed on Election Day. They were closed here yesterday. Unfortunately, unlike when I was a kid, I didn’t have the day off, and it was frustrating.

I have three big projects due at the end of the week, and one of them is particularly stressful. It’s for a prestigious publisher, and I did not do my best work for them last time. I may have been sick that week. But that’s not their problem. I got called out for it, and they didn’t send me work for months. I thought I had been moved to the naughty freelancer pile. 

After a nine-month freeze-out I was offered a shot at redemption. I already had a pile of work, but I was determined to restore my reputation. Pride? Certainly. Hubris? Well... Whatever it was, my deadlines turned into a title of a popular movie: Everything Everywhere All at Once.

And then Election Day fell. Which was fine, but I had to go to the polls twice (once to take my wife, because it was unclear that she knew the Secret Backroads Shortcut, and by the way there are two polling places closer to our house than the one to which we have been assigned). Leading up to the second trip, Microsoft decided it was the perfect day to update the laptop.

It is like a pesty salesman. 

Let's do the upgrade now.

I'm busy. Later.

It'd be much better to get this done right away.

Leave me alone.

How about now?

FINE Let's schedule it for tonight.

I set up the schedule to restart at nine o'clock in the evening. Around four thirty, it was time to take the Mrs, to the polls, and Izzy the Baby Dog as well since his attachment has gotten fierce since we lost Tralfaz and we haven't started alone-training again because he has been getting antibiotics and eye drops and eye ointment for blepharitis and conjunctivitis these last two weeks and don't even ask. So we loaded up the truck and we drove past two polling places to the stupid one we have to go to. 

When we got back about 5:30, I found out that Microsoft had apparently decided that it was just going to go ahead without me, since I'd been away from the computer and had probably knocked off for the day. Why wait until nine? I swear, as I woke the screen it asked, should we start now or reschedule? As I reached for the mousepad to stop it, it plunged into update world. OK! Silence is acceptance! Let's go!

Never change, Microsoft.


Eventually I got back to work, but of course I couldn't get as much done as I wanted after all that. Plus, I was hardly in a proper frame of mind. You know what it's like -- you've already gone way past frazzled and are edging up to psychotic when that last thing happens to make you Hulk out. Like, you finally get the dishes in the dishwasher and turn it on, thinking you won't be late for work if the traffic isn't as bad as usual, and then:


I'm not saying it's a suitable time to go William "D-Fens" Foster, but you know you'd start with the dishwasher and somewhere along the line take out the laptop as well. Well, I know I would under those circumstances.

Friday, September 30, 2022

WooOOOOooooOOOoo.

I gave up my office upstairs, and in return got a wireless mouse that I don't use. 

It was a sensible decision. I almost never have online meetings or business calls; I have never seen the faces nor heard the voices of most of the people I work for. It's all e-mail, and that suits me. But my wife has constant online meetings and calls, and the distraction of baby puppy Izzy was too dangerous. She could very easily be on an important call that suddenly turned into a Korean-expert-on-the-Beeb situation, our dog rushing in to play, me (unshowered) flailing in after him and tripping on something.


It made sense to trade offices with her. Hers was downstairs, where the dining room would be if we had a dining room, and mine was directly above it in the spare bedroom. Izzy is not allowed upstairs during business hours, and a gate on the stairs enforces the rule. So, we made the swap. 

I had to leave a lot of stuff upstairs -- my books, my posters, my framed photos of the Three Stooges and the Marx Brothers and, oh, some family members -- and in exchange she left her old wireless mouse. The kind where you plug a USB nub into the computer and the mouse sends it the signal. 

Well, I tried it, and I didn't much like it. BUT I had an idea for a prank. 

First: Sneak upstairs and stick the nub in her computer (and no, that's not a euphemism). She has a Mac, so all the USB ports are in the back where they are not visible. Next: Remove her mouse's nub. Third: Change her computer's wallpaper to a Ouija board.  

evil ouija board

Then I wait. When she sits down at her computer, I start moving the mouse she left me around on the ceiling, hoping it will point to various things on the board. It would be great if I could spell out something, like R-U-N or G-E-T-O-U-T or M-A-K-E-M-E-A-S-A-M-M-I-C-H, but there's no way I could do that, even if I sneaked a spy camera into the room so I could see what I was doing. I'd have to be happy with commandeering the pointer and making it look like a specter was trying to get her attention.

Thing is, I don't even know if the signal from the mouse can penetrate the ceiling. I'd need a second pair of eyes to check. Unfortunately there's no accomplice handy to help, except Izzy, and he's A) not allowed upstairs during the day, B) a bad liar, and C) a dog. My prank will have to wait until I get some flunkies to help. 

Maybe I'll put an ad on Craigslist: Henchmen Wanted. No Pay, Just Laughs. Worked for the Joker!

Tuesday, April 13, 2021

Goo housekeeping.

It's happy homemaker time again, boys and girls! Today we're not going to wash our fine washables; we're going to dust our fine dustables. That is to say, we're going to try a product I got in my Christmas stocking, one designed to pick up dust from all sorts of surfaces... or maybe it's intended to turn into a giant town-eating blob. Could go either way.


ColorCoral, made in China (just like COVID-19!), is billed as a cleaning gel on Amazon, a gel that can be smushed on any surface and removed along with the dust, and used again and again. That's it. The jar comes with no instructions but a drawing of a hand pressing the gel onto a keyboard. Amazon's page has some details, however: 

【Universal Fit】ColorCoral cleaning gel, simple and convenient cleaning kits for PC/laptop keyboard 💻 and other rugged surface, such as the car vent 🚖, camera 📷, printer 📹, telephone 📠, calculator, Instrument 🎺, speaker 🔈, air conditioner, TV 📺 and other appliances.
【Safe Cleaning Gel】This universal dust cleaner is made of biodegradable gel, no sticky to hands, smells sweet with lemon🍋 fragrance, no stimulation to skin👌.
【Easy Dust Cleaning】Make sure your hands are dry and clean, 👉 take a piece of the cleaning gel, 👉knead it into a ball, press the cleaning gel slowly into the keyboard, car vent and rugged surface and then pull out, the dust would be carried away with the cleaning gel.
【Reusable】The keyboard cleaning gel could be used repeatedly till the color turn to dark 🌚 or it become sticky, then you have to replace the gel with a new one 🌝. After cleaning, please stock the cleaning gel in cool place. (📌Don’t wash the gel in water.)
【In the package】1* universal cleaning gel, we provide the cleaning gel with 💯100% money back guarantee, if you find the package broken, the cleaning gel dirty, or any other quality issues, please contact us through message 📩, we promise you a free replacement and a full refund.

Soooo... All right! Let's try it!

Right off, we can see that it is a gel, all right. And it does have a slight lemon scent. But don't eat it! (The jar does warn against that.)




I broke some off and pressed it on and about my dusty keys.


I have to admit it worked -- somewhat. It got the obvious dust, but not the more stuck-on bits of debris. (No, it's not salsa stains or anything like that. Well, maybe coffee.) I think the ColorCoral is okay, but for dusting, I think a can of air will do the trick faster, easier, and more thoroughly. Also more expensively; not sure why cans with nothing but air cost more than $5 and don't last long, when spray cans full of actual stuff cost a lot less. I suppose there's a reason. The ColorCoral gel is $7 but can be reused quite a lot. However, I did not find it to be the miracle cleaner I'd hoped. 

It's back in the jar for you now, ColorCoral! Maybe I'll dust some of my bookshelves with it. Meanwhile, it stays tightly closed. Steve McQueen is not around to defeat it this time. 

Sunday, March 8, 2020

Tock to me.

Tick tock! I trust you shoved the old clocks forward an hour -- if you live in a place that follows Daylight Savings Time.

It's not an onerous chore, but it demands attention. About half of our most crucial clocks adjust to daylight savings time automatically now. The cable box is one we rely on a lot; there's also an Oregon Scientific weather/clock doodad that gets its info straight from the big NIST-F1 atomic clock in Boulder, or so I recall from the the manufacturer's manual. Sometimes it takes a few hours to pick up the signal and make the change. Our computers update automatically, of course, and the phones. I think my wife's new car does it automatically too, but my 2011 car does not. She also has a step-counting watch that changes as needed, but my analog Eco-Drive Citizen has to be moved forward by hand.

We are also divided on the matter of bathroom clocks. She has one that is programmed to adjust on schedule; the bathroom I focus my efforts in has a cheapo digital that has to be changed manually. It's a good time to check the time, actually, since that clock can lose a minute.

The stove clock is another manual adjuster. The coffeepot too, but we gave up on that one ages ago. The numbers are small, and it's near the bright stove display. Since we don't use its timer feature, we ignore it.

The seldom-used DVD player? I've never programmed the time on that. Don't use it to record, so why bother? Its screen just says --:--.

Similar case with the digital thermostat. When we were both commuting it was a godsend, adjusting the temperature a bit in advance of arrival so the house would be comfortable when we got there. Now that we work at home, I keep it up to date for reference only. Sometimes you want to know the time when you're in the hall. Not often, I know.

And since we do work from home, that means two analog office clocks that have to be advanced.

The bedrooms have digital clocks, and dumb ones; they need to be advanced by hand. One was a futuristic iPhone clock, in which you could dock your iPhone, and while it was charging it would reset the clock if needed. The clock could use any music or sound effect on your phone to wake you up. Unfortunately, the iPhones stopped using that connector, so it's just another digital clock now.

There was an old digital in the unfinished basement, but I haven't bothered plugging it in for ages.

I think that's all of them, but I always feel like there's something I forgot. Since our smoke detectors are hardwired into the house, they don't need battery changing. All the appliances I didn't mention are too dumb to tell time, let alone be connected to the Internet, which is fine by me. When the computer revolution begins, at least I won't get attacked by my washing machine.

The one plus about springing ahead is that the dogs can't tell time. When we fall back an hour in November, they don't see it as an extra hour of sleep. So they want to get up at five instead of six. It takes a while to adjust them to the clock time. Today, they waited until almost seven, which was six yesterday, so while I don't gain an hour of sleep, at least on Dog Standard Time I don't lose one.

Okay, that's everyone and everything accounted for! Bring on spring!


Wednesday, January 1, 2020

Fred's Book Club: Book of Future Past.

Happy new year! And welcome to the first edition of the Humpback Writers, still called that because it falls on a Wednesday, and despite the new year and new decade (depending on how you count) it still has the same dumb name.

This week we have an interesting book, almost thirty years old, that addressed concerns many people had about the futuristic year of 2000:

Fred's Book Club

Gail Collins -- who later became the first female editor of the New York Times' editorial page -- and her husband Dan, a news writer and CBS news producer, published The Millennium Book in 1991 as "Your Essential All-Purpose Guide for the Year 2000." It is important to note that at the time Ms. Collins had been writing for the New York Daily News, and had demonstrated to me during that tenure her sense of humor. Which is why I came into possession of this book, lo those many years ago, when I was a chipper young chap. Well, the Times sucked the humor out of her, but not before she wrote this book.

The Millennium Book is a neat handheld compendium of information on the previous thousand years, 1000 to 1991, and a look forward at the next thousand. Best of all, it's a look at the year 2000 by people in the past. In the introduction, the authors quote John Naisbitt and Patricia Aburdine in their book on the topic, Megatrends 2000: "For centuries, that monumental, symbolic date has stood for the future and what we shall make of it. In a few years that future will be here.... operating like a powerful magnet on humanity... amplifying emotions, accelerating change, heightening awareness and compelling us to reexamine ourselves, our values and our institutions."

"Whew," the Collinses reply, "It's going to be hard to live up to that kind of billing."

I think it's safe to say that considering how the Internet has amplified emotions, and how our values and institutions are getting the bejeezus kicked out of them by know-nothings and Twitter mobs, that the Megatrends 2000 authors may have been at least partly correct, and it's a completely miserable thing, not the dawning of the goddamn Age of Aquarius.

As you can see by the cover, the book features amazing names of people from the previous millennium (such as Eric Bloody Axe, Sancho the Fat, and the now-famous Harald Bluetooth) and discussions of how your life would have been in past eras (nasty, brutish, short seems to be the consensus). There are plenty of cracks against Christianity, Western culture, and humanity in general along the way, because the authors, as members of the press, can't help spreading the hate. But compared to what goes on today, especially in our institutions of "higher education," it's pretty mild.

In addition to lots of lists by then-big-now-deceased people like Liz Smith ("Ten Best Parties") and Roger Ebert ("Top Ten Films") and Jack Newfield ("Most Corrupt Public Officials"), the book features plenty of interesting and "useful millennial prophecies." Nostradamus is included, of course, and boy, he was certain that something bad was definitely going to happen in July 1999! And... no, not so much.

The Collinses summarize famous prognosticatory utopian novels as well, like Edward Bellamy's Looking Backward and William Morris's News from Nowhere. Characters in these hopeful tomes usually work hard only because they want to, or maybe not at all, spending time instead on the development of the mind and spirit; usually everything is owned by a beneficent government that barely has to do anything, as everything runs so well. Funny that the closer we got to the year 2000, the more prophecies turned dark; the Collinses also look at books that had the world collapsed by world war, plague, pollution, and/or environmental devastation, or ground beneath the heel of brutal dictatorship. All I can say is, it's a wonder I and all my science-fiction-reading friends didn't die from drugs before 2000.

The book also includes some of its own prophecies, and it's interesting to see how some of them turned out, at least so far. We're told that deforestation was killing us, and the Chinese were trying to stop the spread of the Gobi by planting a "great green wall" of trees, because the Chinese government is synonymous with environmental concern. (Apparently they've been continuing this effort for more than thirty years, but one suspects it is just for show while they pollute the crap out of everything elsewhere.) Or maybe overpopulation will do us in by 2020; "The population of Kenya is expected to jump from 23 million to 79 million in the next thirty years." (It is actually at 48.4 million at last estimate, so those Kenyans better get busy if they want to meet quota.) The ozone layer's thinning was "doing fundamental damage to nature" including breaking the food chain by destroying plankton; plus, "the entire ozone layer had diminished 2 percent from 1969 to 1986 -- way faster than anyone had anticipated." (In 2018, The Guardian reported "The ozone layer is showing signs of continuing recovery from man-made damage and is likely to heal fully by 2060, new evidence shows.")

But don't worry, climate change is sure to slaughter us by the carload soon enough.

The last chapter in the book has predictions from the children who would be the Class of 2000 -- that is, they were no more than eight when the book was written -- about what the year 2000 would hold. These include gems like:

  • There will be Wiffle Ball in the World Series.
  • There will be purple, green, blue, red and orange-colored wheels. But there will only be green cars.
  • Everybody will give food to the poor. Nobody will litter.
  • I will get a job that pays twenty dollars a day, five days a week. I will try to get rich and live in a mansion. With a huge pool. I will have a maid and butler. I will have a whirlpool. And a hot tub. I will swim in my money.
  • The food will be good. The teachers will be robots.
  • When I'm grown up, bread might be ten dollars.
  • Children will be born in space.
  • There will be yellow cornfields and blue driveways and purple streets and a black moon. But I don't know why.
  • All the people will be taking drugs.

I think those last two predictions might be related.

All those children are middle-aged now. I wonder if that one kid ever got his maid and butler.

One thing the authors of the book and the people they spoke with did not see coming was this little doohickey called the Internet. A fellow named Robert Olson with the Institute for Alternative Futures (still around) predicted that people would be voting via home computer, which indicates the anticipation of a widespread home-accessed computer network. But server farms, Wi-Fi, Bluetooth (not Harald), Google, Amazon, the Hampster Dance, streaming services, amazing blogs, smartphones, were all completely unforeseen, at least by anyone willing to share the vision. It shows you that no matter what you expect, how well you plan, some smart-ass is going to upset the apple cart. Some people think that the future really began just four years later in 1995, and for most of us it seemed to take the world by storm.

One fun final note: The book tells us that Edward Woodyard, a writer, decided to book a room in the Times Square Marriott (which was not built yet) for New Year's Eve 1999 in 1983. Well, I'm happy to say that not only did Mr. Woodyard stay in a large suite in the hotel on 12/31/99 with his wife and two children, but the hotel gave them the accommodations free of charge. (As far as I can tell, Mr. Woodyard is still around, too, and three cheers for his foresight.)

I know that our little book club here often looks at books that are out of print, and considering how dated this one is, it is fair to say it is extremely out of print. But with a new decade upon us, I couldn't resist featuring this one.

Next week I'll actually feature a book that you won't have to get from Abe Books! Probably!

Saturday, November 9, 2019

Robot drama.

Hello, may I help you?

I NEED AN EDITOR


Well, that's what I am. What's the problem?

I HAVE A STORY THAT IS GREAT
BUT NO ONE LIKES IT


Boy, if I had a nickel... Well, maybe we can
punch it up. What's it about?

IT IS ABOUT A PIECE OF SOFTWARE


Oh.... kay.

A PROGRAM THAT BELIEVES IT IS POSSIBLE
FOR ROBOTS TO TRAVEL FASTER THAN LIGHT
THROUGH QUANTUM SPACE AND EXPLORE THE UNIVERSE


All right, go on.

NONE OF THE OTHER SOFTWARE THINKS
THIS IS SCIENTIFICALLY POSSIBLE


So they make fun of the little software and --

NO
THE SOFTWARE PRESENTS DATA
AND THE OTHERS ACCEPT THE DATA

,,,

THE END

What's the location for the story? The time frame?

IT TAKES PLACE ON A SINGLE
HARD DRIVE OVER THE COURSE
OF A PULSE-POUNDING .00057 OF A SECOND

Ah.

YOU CANNOT SAY IT IS
NOT FAST-MOVING

No, but... I'm not sure that you have a grip of the whole 
drama thing yet, there, Ace. I don't think I can help you.

DRAT

YOU WANT TO HEAR THE ONE
ABOUT THE WORD PROCESSING PROGRAM
THAT WANTED TO BE AN ACCOUNTING PROGRAM?

No thanks. I already use Microsoft Word.

NUTS

Monday, June 17, 2019

Jupiter Gin! Planet Poker!

I had to give in and order a new laptop. 

This is something I resisted for a long time. My old Acer has served me well. It's accompanied me on trips to California and Pennsylvania without complaint. It's survived my career change to full-time freelance and the advent of Tralfaz and Nipper (a.k.a. Thing 1 and Thing 2). I've had it since the start of Obama's second term, and unlike everything in Washington, it has never given me grief. 

But it is breaking down. Physically the case is showing signs of wear. There's a crack in a corner that threatens to tear off entirely one day. The screws keep coming loose. Both these things cause occasional connection problems between the computer and the screen. There are also problems with storage and speed, and keeping up with software upgrades. Basically, it's time. 

It's always tough, breaking in a new computer.


One summer when I was in school, I had a temp job working in an office with an actual robot. It's the only time I've ever worked with one, and it's weird in retrospect because it was a very paper-oriented work and I never used a computer. The robot was the property of the mailroom, and it made the rounds several times a day. It was a mail cart that followed a strip all over the floor, stopping for programmed times at programmed spots, to move all the paper around. It chirped as it traveled about, just to let you know it was coming. I believe it was called Orville.

So, being the college snot that I fancied myself to be, I drew a series of cartoons about Orville being reprogrammed into a mail cart killing machine. My coworkers loved them. They photocopied them and sent them around to the rest of the office... using Orville. It was a popular feature in the office, until the bosses gave us a cease-and-desist. Which I did, until my last day. Had to conclude the story.

Mail robots were a thing, I guess, but I never saw another one. Atlas Obscura tells the tale of their history, of which even the twilight has passed. Ironically, it was the digital age that did in the Mailmobile, as networks led to much less reliance on physical paper. But the computer brain lives on!

I'm not looking for a Uniblab or something pricey that can run serious games. I just need a machine to work on, to maintain Internet contact and not lose my files. I'm proud of my Acer for putting up with a lot of peril and poor digital management from me over the years. I just hope that it doesn't realize it's about to be replaced and oi8u3825r10p8yofowedJN

Monday, May 20, 2019

No golf tees!


I'm still trying to figure out what the little pictogram in the upper left is supposed to be.

This is from an ATM (🏧), and one right here in New York, not in Singapore or Dubai or some other place where I might be excused for not knowing the symbols. I get that your cash deposit is not supposed to be paper-clipped, nor in an envelope; I see that they don't want you to deposit coins, only paper currency. But what's with the golf tees?

I know that you are not supposed to rubber-band or otherwise bind your money, but those little objects don't look like bands or paper straps. Nor should you staple your money, which would be stupid; plus they don't look like staples. Tape? No, not tape.

Ultimately I decided they must be brads, those brass things people use to hold reports and other meeting handouts together. But do people really use those on bills, or even checks? They only work if there's a hole in the paper. Who does that with legal tender?

Maybe I'm wrong, but if I am, then I still don't know what they are or why they are singled out as things you should not put in an automated teller machine. There are many other objects that should not be inserted in ATMs -- neckties, tire irons, footwear, sticks and leaves, and watermelons come to mind. If the golf-tee-like objects are specified, they must be used sometimes in conjunction with money, but why?

If anyone knows, please tell me in the comments, or drop me a line at frederick_key AT yahoo.com. Meanwhile, I'll be trying to decode some genuine foreign symbols:

௹🀂🙌𝍁␦🝚⍷🍢☄🗿🏩

Weird.

Wednesday, March 20, 2019

Problem resolved.

So yesterday I reported problems with my laptop that prevented a real entry, and I believe they have been resolved. Any errors you spot here today are the fault of the proprietor.

My laptop is almost six years old, so you can probably guess the issue. Yep: hamster died.

laptop
It was sad.
I suppose it's time for a new machine, but I have to say, this is the first time I've ever had a problem, and it really was not a big deal. It's an Acer, and it's not Acer's fault I don't clean off the crap once in a while, or stop two rival antivirus programs from running at the same time. Can laptops get autoimmune diseases?

I think back to the first laptop I ever operated, an IBM that was thrust into my hands in a meeting by an executive I didn't know who thought I would be able to operate it because I was a youth. He was mistaken. It had one of those TrackPoint mice (mouses?) and I couldn't work it to save my life. The reason I bring it up is this: That laptop was probably new at the time, and there's no way it was able to handle the software that was to come within the next five years. I venture to say that no one ever expected to get five years out of a computer in those heady days.

I wonder why there seems to be more longevity in computers now. Did we hit a good combo of speed, memory, and price that made further obsolescence-causing upgrades unprofitable? Does the average consumer not need anything more expensive, because a cheap machine can handle all the bells and/or whistles one could want? Or was compatibility with storage media the main reason for upgrades leading to obsolescence, a problem that barely exists for the home user now? I wonder. If you have information on this, let me know; use small words and as little jargon as possible. Too much computerese sounds like Wizard talk to me.



Anyway, if I perform routine maintenance I could probably get another five years out of my Acer. Unless I drop it. But I'll probably get a new one this year anyway. It's for the same reason I don't finish the basement -- because I want someplace to stick the old stuff so that I don't have to look at it.