I recently purchased a Handspring Treo 180 (black and white version), which -- as many of you probably already know -- is a PDA/phone combo. The PDA OS is Palm, and the phone runs on the GSM network (I connect via Voicestream / T-mobile in San Francisco). The new color Treo 300 runs on Sprint's CDMA network.
I've been extremely happy with my Treo. While it's definitely more bulky than the wonderfully-pocketsized Ericsson phone I used to have, I'm now actually carrying around a Palm Pilot and phone religiously. And with the Outlook sync, it's amazingly handy having ALL of my contact numbers in my phone without having to laboriously type them in.
Plus, it's got 16 megs of memory. Not expandable, but... dang, that's still good sized, IMHO :-)
The PDA/Phone integration is mildly quirky, but I'd still give it an A- overall.
Other grades:
- Ergonomics: A-
- Fit (hand): A
- Fit (pocket): B- (pretty thin, but wide)
- Screen: B (small but clear)
- Construction: B (feels just a touch flimsy... but solid metal would have weighed too much)
- Reception: B- (noticeably less consistent than my old phone)
- Sound quality: A (great clarity natively, with earbud, and with speakerphone)
My service with Voicestream has been mixed.
RIGHT when I first signed up they had a 4 day outage!
My coverage and connection-quality has been very good since, though, and you absolutely cannot beat their plans. 1000 weekday minutes and unlimited weekends, plus free long distance, free roaming, and 50 text messages for $39? Very cool! And they have 24hour customer service over the phone.
I originally purchased the phone for $149 (after rebate) with Amazon.com, but strangely, it's gone back up to $249 after rebate now. I still think it'd be a worthwhile buy.
Friday, August 30, 2002
Flower in San Francisco Golden Gate Park
(Click on photo to see larger version)I'm in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park almost every Sunday to enjoy swing dancing with friends outdoors via the weekly "Lindy in the Park" celebration.
However, I had rarely stopped to appreciate the botanical gardens practically next door until my parents and sister came to visit one Sunday. The photo here is one of many shots I took, highlighting both the beauty and strangeness of the flowers I discovered.
More 9/11 idiocy
But restrictions on so-called general aviation aircraft over New York from Sept. 11-13 were still being considered. Small private plane owners and pilots were lobbying against the proposal, said Warren Morningstar, spokesman for the Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association.
The three-day flight ban over New York would prohibit news helicopters, corporate jets and small planes carrying packages and hospital patients from flying from 17 airports, he said.[emphasis mine]
- AP story concerning proposed 9/11 restrictions that our administration admits were recommended despite no evidence of additional terrorist threats in NY
This article also notes that our brain-cell challenged friends in the White House were previously proposing a 3 day ban on all traffic from foreign airlines in and around NYC. This, of course, despite the fact that it was U.S.-owned airlines that were involved in the original attack.
Each day I think that our current administration can't possibly do anything stupider. But then they once again provide sad fodder for late night television comics and seriously pissed local and international officials.
Thursday, August 29, 2002
So... you think *YOU* have bad luck?
Two years ago, I found myself sitting unexpectedly (and uncommonly) next to a fascinating and friendly woman ("Kara") on a flight to Costa Rica.
This evening, I found myself trying not to sneeze on her.
The genuinely pleasant dinner with her aside, I've not been having the best of luck lately.
Late last week, I was away for Kara's birthday party while I was (ironically) playing Aggravation with my parents in Southern California. I also missed a hot tub party, a huge and highly lauded Lindy Hop / blues party with a live pianist (the dead ones just can't swing), several other dance events, a scavenger hunt, and more.
Tuesday night at Broadway Studios (for swing night), I forgot to put my dancing sneakers on, and then wondered for three hours why I wasn't quite "in best form." Mind you, I've been dancing hundreds of hours over the last year, and before this week, had never been quite so absentminded in this way. It's kind of like walking into your workplace in pajamas. Your less observant colleagues may not notice, but you'll feel downright funny. Especially if you can't figure out why 'til you're on your way home.
Additionally, I was decidedly a huge dork because I failed to introduce myself to a woman competing at Broadway, whom I had chatted extensively with over IM during the past week. She's busy preparing for the contest, I told myself, so I can't bother her now. She's resting after the contest. She's bummed about not winning the contest. Oh, wait, gobs of top Lindy guys are asking her to dance constantly, I can't interrupt. Then she went home. And the next day, I got a puzzled IM from her asking why I never bothered to show up, despite my promise to be there and introduce myself. Ouch.
Wednesday morning, I discovered that I had apparently been cursed by the prior evening's performance of the opera "The Nose," since my own personal schnoz had become quite unruly. Sniffling literally and figuratively, I ditched my kickboxing class and felt annoyed and guilty.
This morning, I felt more sick and pondered whether to cancel on my long lost airplane friend. Determined to be strong -- and understandably reluctant to last-minutely cancel plans with a busy woman like this -- I did the next best thing: I drugged myself. Cough expectorant, decongestant, zinc tablets, extra vitamins, and a hella strong antihistimine.
Running late (of course), I still couldn't help but notice the alarming state of my formerly white car. It looked like a Gateway cow-spot box that had baked in the desert sun, complete with evil birds contributing to the auxilliary "paint" job.
Timing be damned, it was clear that I had to do something, and I was relieved when I noticed only three cars in front of me at the nearby gas station autowash. I hadn't taken into account, however, that two out of these three would contain complete nitwits.
The first lady didn't quite have the pre-pay concept down. She figured, I'm guessing, that she could run her car through the automated car wash thingy and pay afterwards. I don't know. All I can attest to is the fact that she was repeatedly punching in likely random codes into the keypad there, hoping that she'd somehow hit the magic 5 digit jackpot to activate the car wash. Having failed to accomplish this after seemingly an eternity and probably noticing the increasingly pissed off mob of people waiting behind her, she then resigned herself to sticking quarters into the machine to pay the $4 fee. She, however, had only $3.25.
How do I know this? She got out of her car and began panhandling the rest. I kidd you not.
Secure in my assumption that the next two drivers could not be half as stupid as this woman, I was unsurprised but thankful that the next car zoomed right through. He had a code, and knew how to use it. Amen!
The fellow after him, however, was perhaps a relative of the first bozette. He had trouble grasping the necessity of aligning one's left tires with the moving trackway so as to have the car guided along through the wash and then (thankfully) out the exit, wonderously making room for OTHER people to get their cars washed. Including other people who were already running late for meeting a friend in Berkeley across the bridge.
But, as I suggested, he DIDN'T quite get the picture. So he punched in his code, hit the start button, and waited. And waited. And no doubt wondered, gee, why wasn't his car moving?
I shouted helpful instructions to him the best I could without shouting things that would not be considered "instructive" in a car wash sense. He then succeeded in getting ONE of his wheels along the track, albeit at a 45 degree angle. His car was dragged along for a few inches, but no more.
"MORONS LIKE YOU SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED OUT IN PUBLIC UNSUPERVISED!" I screamed.
Okay, so I instead yelled in a more friendly way for him to try again, back up, and get both tires on the track. Miraculously, he eventually did so.
A few moments later I was in the car wash and out of the car wash. Yet my windshield still had big funny spots on it. Halfway down the street I realized, OH NO, these were spots INSIDE the car! I spit in a kleenex, doing my best to professionally buff the spots away, but what I ended up with were huge colorfully messy streaks instead. I gave up. If this woman judged me solely by the cleanliness of my car, then she was not worth having as a friend, I defiantly reassured myself.
I wish I had thought of that before going to the carwash, though.
The trip to Kara's apartment wasn't any smoother.
I was plagued with mondo traffic getting across the bridge, and MapBlast directions that cheerfully instructed me to turn right when I needed to turn left. I got lost, and shamelessly called Kara for help. Clearly she was not going to like me for my sense of directionality or my (non)possession of paper maps, either.
I had barely eaten all day, and so by the time I finally met up with Kara, I was starving. Luckily, she and I walked quickly to a restaurant and found a table. When she ordered a before-dinner beer, I reflexively ordered a drink for myself... a nice glass of white wine. Mmm.
An hour later, I harshly recalled that big scary looking warning on the antihistimine bottle: "DO NOT TAKE ANTIDEPRESSANTS OR ALCOHOL WITH THIS DRUG." Let's just say I blathered dumbly even more than usual. I think the only remaining quality she can admire in me now is my dashingly handsome looks. Er, or maybe my vivid sense of imagination.
So here I am, past midnight blogging, still not tired, but still sick. And also praying that my friend has a good sense of humor, especially if she reads this entry :-)
I also wouldn't mind some better luck coming my way.
This evening, I found myself trying not to sneeze on her.
The genuinely pleasant dinner with her aside, I've not been having the best of luck lately.
Late last week, I was away for Kara's birthday party while I was (ironically) playing Aggravation with my parents in Southern California. I also missed a hot tub party, a huge and highly lauded Lindy Hop / blues party with a live pianist (the dead ones just can't swing), several other dance events, a scavenger hunt, and more.
Tuesday night at Broadway Studios (for swing night), I forgot to put my dancing sneakers on, and then wondered for three hours why I wasn't quite "in best form." Mind you, I've been dancing hundreds of hours over the last year, and before this week, had never been quite so absentminded in this way. It's kind of like walking into your workplace in pajamas. Your less observant colleagues may not notice, but you'll feel downright funny. Especially if you can't figure out why 'til you're on your way home.
Additionally, I was decidedly a huge dork because I failed to introduce myself to a woman competing at Broadway, whom I had chatted extensively with over IM during the past week. She's busy preparing for the contest, I told myself, so I can't bother her now. She's resting after the contest. She's bummed about not winning the contest. Oh, wait, gobs of top Lindy guys are asking her to dance constantly, I can't interrupt. Then she went home. And the next day, I got a puzzled IM from her asking why I never bothered to show up, despite my promise to be there and introduce myself. Ouch.
Wednesday morning, I discovered that I had apparently been cursed by the prior evening's performance of the opera "The Nose," since my own personal schnoz had become quite unruly. Sniffling literally and figuratively, I ditched my kickboxing class and felt annoyed and guilty.
This morning, I felt more sick and pondered whether to cancel on my long lost airplane friend. Determined to be strong -- and understandably reluctant to last-minutely cancel plans with a busy woman like this -- I did the next best thing: I drugged myself. Cough expectorant, decongestant, zinc tablets, extra vitamins, and a hella strong antihistimine.
Running late (of course), I still couldn't help but notice the alarming state of my formerly white car. It looked like a Gateway cow-spot box that had baked in the desert sun, complete with evil birds contributing to the auxilliary "paint" job.
Timing be damned, it was clear that I had to do something, and I was relieved when I noticed only three cars in front of me at the nearby gas station autowash. I hadn't taken into account, however, that two out of these three would contain complete nitwits.
The first lady didn't quite have the pre-pay concept down. She figured, I'm guessing, that she could run her car through the automated car wash thingy and pay afterwards. I don't know. All I can attest to is the fact that she was repeatedly punching in likely random codes into the keypad there, hoping that she'd somehow hit the magic 5 digit jackpot to activate the car wash. Having failed to accomplish this after seemingly an eternity and probably noticing the increasingly pissed off mob of people waiting behind her, she then resigned herself to sticking quarters into the machine to pay the $4 fee. She, however, had only $3.25.
How do I know this? She got out of her car and began panhandling the rest. I kidd you not.
Secure in my assumption that the next two drivers could not be half as stupid as this woman, I was unsurprised but thankful that the next car zoomed right through. He had a code, and knew how to use it. Amen!
The fellow after him, however, was perhaps a relative of the first bozette. He had trouble grasping the necessity of aligning one's left tires with the moving trackway so as to have the car guided along through the wash and then (thankfully) out the exit, wonderously making room for OTHER people to get their cars washed. Including other people who were already running late for meeting a friend in Berkeley across the bridge.
But, as I suggested, he DIDN'T quite get the picture. So he punched in his code, hit the start button, and waited. And waited. And no doubt wondered, gee, why wasn't his car moving?
I shouted helpful instructions to him the best I could without shouting things that would not be considered "instructive" in a car wash sense. He then succeeded in getting ONE of his wheels along the track, albeit at a 45 degree angle. His car was dragged along for a few inches, but no more.
"MORONS LIKE YOU SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED OUT IN PUBLIC UNSUPERVISED!" I screamed.
Okay, so I instead yelled in a more friendly way for him to try again, back up, and get both tires on the track. Miraculously, he eventually did so.
A few moments later I was in the car wash and out of the car wash. Yet my windshield still had big funny spots on it. Halfway down the street I realized, OH NO, these were spots INSIDE the car! I spit in a kleenex, doing my best to professionally buff the spots away, but what I ended up with were huge colorfully messy streaks instead. I gave up. If this woman judged me solely by the cleanliness of my car, then she was not worth having as a friend, I defiantly reassured myself.
I wish I had thought of that before going to the carwash, though.
The trip to Kara's apartment wasn't any smoother.
I was plagued with mondo traffic getting across the bridge, and MapBlast directions that cheerfully instructed me to turn right when I needed to turn left. I got lost, and shamelessly called Kara for help. Clearly she was not going to like me for my sense of directionality or my (non)possession of paper maps, either.
I had barely eaten all day, and so by the time I finally met up with Kara, I was starving. Luckily, she and I walked quickly to a restaurant and found a table. When she ordered a before-dinner beer, I reflexively ordered a drink for myself... a nice glass of white wine. Mmm.
An hour later, I harshly recalled that big scary looking warning on the antihistimine bottle: "DO NOT TAKE ANTIDEPRESSANTS OR ALCOHOL WITH THIS DRUG." Let's just say I blathered dumbly even more than usual. I think the only remaining quality she can admire in me now is my dashingly handsome looks. Er, or maybe my vivid sense of imagination.
So here I am, past midnight blogging, still not tired, but still sick. And also praying that my friend has a good sense of humor, especially if she reads this entry :-)
I also wouldn't mind some better luck coming my way.
"Ask the Pilot" addresses the nail clipper conspiracy
Frequent and/or savvy Bladam readers might have noticed that I'm often citing articles from Salon.com. That's because even the free stuff there is amazingly insightful and a downright pleasure to read... and the 'premium' articles -- for which I pay about $30 a year -- are typically far more substantive and thoughtful than what you'll more commonly find in similar journals.
Their "Ask the Pilot" column is especially cool, written by an honest-to-goodness pilot at a major airline who answers questions that run the gamut from "Why aren't there more women pilots" to "Do seat cushions actually save lives?"
His most current installment, in which he laments the ridiculous folly that comprises most of the "security" measures in place now, particularly resonated with me... since I recently had my nail clippers confiscated from me.
I had earlier read that the airline security folks were no longer prohibiting these items, I'm guessing due to a lessening fear of a hijacker threatening to "Stand back, or I'll clip your nails!" But alas, my particular species was "more sharp than regular ones" meaning that, I suppose, I could have been especially threatening to even lengthier-manicured flightmates.
I got only a momentary chuckle from the confiscation incident, when the security guard expressed a look of deep concern, and excused herself to talk with a supervisor. She seemed a bit ashen-faced when she returned.
"Sir... um... sir... are these really $85?"
I was full ready to say "Yes, ma'am, and not only that, these are a family heirloom, passed down from generation to generation, and are of enormous financial and sentimental value to me. And I'd never THINK of clipping a flightmate's fingernails without his or her express written permission!"
Unfortunately (or, perhaps, fortunately)... aware of the generally chilly reception to jokes in the security line, I politely explained that, no, the price tag was not in U.S. currency, and I only paid about U.S. $9 for them.
Besides, had I engaged in my goofy fib, she might have selfishly stuck them in her pocket, sprinting to eBay right after her shift.
Sometimes you just can't win.
Their "Ask the Pilot" column is especially cool, written by an honest-to-goodness pilot at a major airline who answers questions that run the gamut from "Why aren't there more women pilots" to "Do seat cushions actually save lives?"
His most current installment, in which he laments the ridiculous folly that comprises most of the "security" measures in place now, particularly resonated with me... since I recently had my nail clippers confiscated from me.
I had earlier read that the airline security folks were no longer prohibiting these items, I'm guessing due to a lessening fear of a hijacker threatening to "Stand back, or I'll clip your nails!" But alas, my particular species was "more sharp than regular ones" meaning that, I suppose, I could have been especially threatening to even lengthier-manicured flightmates.
I got only a momentary chuckle from the confiscation incident, when the security guard expressed a look of deep concern, and excused herself to talk with a supervisor. She seemed a bit ashen-faced when she returned.
"Sir... um... sir... are these really $85?"
I was full ready to say "Yes, ma'am, and not only that, these are a family heirloom, passed down from generation to generation, and are of enormous financial and sentimental value to me. And I'd never THINK of clipping a flightmate's fingernails without his or her express written permission!"
Unfortunately (or, perhaps, fortunately)... aware of the generally chilly reception to jokes in the security line, I politely explained that, no, the price tag was not in U.S. currency, and I only paid about U.S. $9 for them.
Besides, had I engaged in my goofy fib, she might have selfishly stuck them in her pocket, sprinting to eBay right after her shift.
Sometimes you just can't win.
Blogging for ice cream
My friend Maya just got a job at Dreyer's Grand Ice Cream.
This entry is a test to see if a shout-out like this will earn me her undying love and maybe some free ice cream.
I'd settle for one out of two, though.
This entry is a test to see if a shout-out like this will earn me her undying love and maybe some free ice cream.
I'd settle for one out of two, though.
Tuesday, August 27, 2002
Strange week
What a strange week it's been! I'll go back in history and add in some additional more detailed entries if I have time, but here's a summary:
From Wednesday to Sunday, my sister and I converged on my parents' place in Thousand Oaks, California (in between LA and Santa Barbara) and also enjoyed together a family outing to Sea World. And at 31, it somehow feels strange spending time with my folks.
I'm still their kid, of course, but clearly the family dynamics are different. I see my parents differently... still lovingly, but not as omniscient beings. I see more clearly their frailties but also their strengths. And while we're all different and older, somehow at the core I guess we haven't really changed.
And speaking of not-omniscient, I had a doctor's appointment on Monday for my mild psoriasis, and the exchange basically went like this.
"Well, what has worked for you in the past?"
"This," I responded, pointing to some regrettably expired medicines.
He prescribed more of the same and sent me on the way, $50 poorer (for the appt. and medicines).
And for this he gets paid the big bucks?!?
Later that evening, I attended "Cat's Corner," a somewhat exclusive swing venue frequented by the creme de la creme of Lindy Hoppers, and I also participated in the evening's special Cabaret by playing one of my signature piano medleys. To my surprise and embarrassment, I had the attention not only of my fellow dancers, but also all the folks at the adjacent bar. Whew! I did okay, though, and even smilingly obliged when the quite-enthusiastic Lindy women in the corner shouted their evening trademark: "Take off your shirt!" Luckily (for me and for them and humanity in general) I was wearing an undershirt.
In the meantime over the past few days, I had been instant messaging a warm and intriguing woman that I met on the national Yehoodi swing board. And this evening, I finally met her... sort of.
She was participating in a "Jack and Jill" Lindy contest at Broadway Studios, and damn, is she amazing! I had promised to introduce myself to her, and of course, kept on planning to do so, but my dumb brain excused my procrastination "hmm... can't ask her to dance right after [amazing so-and-so lead]."
Before I knew it, she left, and I was left kicking myself (and boy, did that hurt!), especially since she's only here another week 'til she moves back to New York.
And speaking of that... I've been noticing that I have this amazing effect on women. I meet them, then they promptly move away. The proof includes:
- my former kickboxing instructor, just a week or two after we went out
- Agnes, whom I originally met in Helsinki and had coffee with here a week ago
- Rithy, whom I met two weeks ago at a friend's party
- and now Jen, the aforementioned amazing Lindy'er (and actually professional actress as well).
I think I'll call it my Reverse Midas Touch syndrome.
Back to this evening, though... I must have really been out of it, because for the first time since I started dancing, I forgot to change out of my street shoes and into my dance sneakers. I spent 3 hours dancing in my loafers and (dumbly) wondering why I was having trouble doing spins, and why I overall wasn't having a very "on" night. Duh! Or, to quote the grand Simpson, D'oh!
Perhaps I was just a bit... okay, more than just a bit disoriented from the performance of "The Nose" that I attended earlier in the evening. Utterly cacaphonous "music" combined with a story line that had me thoroughly baffled. Basic plot summary as far as I could follow: Some guy wakes up and notices he no longer has a nose. He then discovers his very own nose playing hooky in various locations, and isn't too happy about this. He wants his nose back, but -- alas -- his nose wants nothing to do with him.
I guess he had a reverse sinus touch. :D
I just wish I could have figured out whether the opera was supposed to be a comedy, a tragedy, a philosophical drama, or some sort of surreal paean to early Russian plastic surgeons. Perhaps all of the above?
So anyway, here I am on Tuesday night, writing in my as-of-late neglected blog. I have a sore throat, my nose is not missing but it's stuffily complaining, I don't feel like sleeping, and thus I'm already early-lamenting my soon-to-be-grumpiness in the morning.
My life is sometimes a bit too crowded and confusing for my taste, but at least it's never boring.
From Wednesday to Sunday, my sister and I converged on my parents' place in Thousand Oaks, California (in between LA and Santa Barbara) and also enjoyed together a family outing to Sea World. And at 31, it somehow feels strange spending time with my folks.
I'm still their kid, of course, but clearly the family dynamics are different. I see my parents differently... still lovingly, but not as omniscient beings. I see more clearly their frailties but also their strengths. And while we're all different and older, somehow at the core I guess we haven't really changed.
And speaking of not-omniscient, I had a doctor's appointment on Monday for my mild psoriasis, and the exchange basically went like this.
"Well, what has worked for you in the past?"
"This," I responded, pointing to some regrettably expired medicines.
He prescribed more of the same and sent me on the way, $50 poorer (for the appt. and medicines).
And for this he gets paid the big bucks?!?
Later that evening, I attended "Cat's Corner," a somewhat exclusive swing venue frequented by the creme de la creme of Lindy Hoppers, and I also participated in the evening's special Cabaret by playing one of my signature piano medleys. To my surprise and embarrassment, I had the attention not only of my fellow dancers, but also all the folks at the adjacent bar. Whew! I did okay, though, and even smilingly obliged when the quite-enthusiastic Lindy women in the corner shouted their evening trademark: "Take off your shirt!" Luckily (for me and for them and humanity in general) I was wearing an undershirt.
In the meantime over the past few days, I had been instant messaging a warm and intriguing woman that I met on the national Yehoodi swing board. And this evening, I finally met her... sort of.
She was participating in a "Jack and Jill" Lindy contest at Broadway Studios, and damn, is she amazing! I had promised to introduce myself to her, and of course, kept on planning to do so, but my dumb brain excused my procrastination "hmm... can't ask her to dance right after [amazing so-and-so lead]."
Before I knew it, she left, and I was left kicking myself (and boy, did that hurt!), especially since she's only here another week 'til she moves back to New York.
And speaking of that... I've been noticing that I have this amazing effect on women. I meet them, then they promptly move away. The proof includes:
- my former kickboxing instructor, just a week or two after we went out
- Agnes, whom I originally met in Helsinki and had coffee with here a week ago
- Rithy, whom I met two weeks ago at a friend's party
- and now Jen, the aforementioned amazing Lindy'er (and actually professional actress as well).
I think I'll call it my Reverse Midas Touch syndrome.
Back to this evening, though... I must have really been out of it, because for the first time since I started dancing, I forgot to change out of my street shoes and into my dance sneakers. I spent 3 hours dancing in my loafers and (dumbly) wondering why I was having trouble doing spins, and why I overall wasn't having a very "on" night. Duh! Or, to quote the grand Simpson, D'oh!
Perhaps I was just a bit... okay, more than just a bit disoriented from the performance of "The Nose" that I attended earlier in the evening. Utterly cacaphonous "music" combined with a story line that had me thoroughly baffled. Basic plot summary as far as I could follow: Some guy wakes up and notices he no longer has a nose. He then discovers his very own nose playing hooky in various locations, and isn't too happy about this. He wants his nose back, but -- alas -- his nose wants nothing to do with him.
I guess he had a reverse sinus touch. :D
I just wish I could have figured out whether the opera was supposed to be a comedy, a tragedy, a philosophical drama, or some sort of surreal paean to early Russian plastic surgeons. Perhaps all of the above?
So anyway, here I am on Tuesday night, writing in my as-of-late neglected blog. I have a sore throat, my nose is not missing but it's stuffily complaining, I don't feel like sleeping, and thus I'm already early-lamenting my soon-to-be-grumpiness in the morning.
My life is sometimes a bit too crowded and confusing for my taste, but at least it's never boring.
Saturday, August 24, 2002
A bird? A plane? Nun of the above!
(Click on photo to see larger version)
I don't normally make a habit of meeting women like this at a wedding, but...
[ See more pics from this wedding ]
Thursday, August 22, 2002
Flabby Meal
Perhaps this qualifies as a "duh!" discovery, but I think I've just gained additional insight into why Americans are so dang fat.
Our society typically treats our kids like blubbering (literally) unsophisticates at mealtimes.
Check out the "kids meals" at almost any eatery, and you'll see:
- lots and lots of fried stuff
- red (and often very fatty) meat
- sodas
I realize that young kids have may not yet have acquired a taste for asparagus tips and tofu strips, but then again, is of much what we ascribe to "kids' tastes" merely a reflection of a self-fulfilling prophecy?
Translated into English: We assume young children will only eat unhealthy crap, so that's what our society advertises and puts into Happy Meals, and thus what parents end up serving their kids.
Why isn't there a "grilled chicken" Happy Meal?
Why don't kids get a bag of baked potato chips instead of greasy fried potato chips with their school lunches?
Why isn't juice (not Hawaiian Punch) usually a choice with children's specials?
And doesn't anyone out there -- corporations or parents -- feel the least bit guilty about actively pushing heart-attacks-on-a-bun on Junior?
Here'd be something interesting to figure out:
- How many kids eventually die from alcohol-related injuries or diseases?
versus
- How many kids eventually die from obesity-related injuries or diseases?
In America, we spend bazillions of dollars enforcing ridiculous (and globally often ridiculed) laws prohibiting 16 year olds from having a glass of wine with dinner or a beer at their family picnic.
But somehow it doesn't seem to bother our collective conscience that we're fattening up our kids to death... not just allowing them to eat artery-clogging junk, but actively encouraging, facilitating, and celebrating this sort of deadly diet.
Don't get me wrong... I'm not personally living on a diet of broccoli and water, nor do I begrudge anyone (including myself!) the occasional ice cream or juicy steak or any other food for that matter. Rather, I'm simply disgusted by the fact that we don't offer our kids any alternatives... in effect teaching them that hamburgers are a "Happy Meal" and that green stuff is something that they're forced to eat at home (seemingly as a punishment) before they can eat the "good stuff."
And then we wonder why our kids become Super-Sized(tm).
Our society typically treats our kids like blubbering (literally) unsophisticates at mealtimes.
Check out the "kids meals" at almost any eatery, and you'll see:
- lots and lots of fried stuff
- red (and often very fatty) meat
- sodas
I realize that young kids have may not yet have acquired a taste for asparagus tips and tofu strips, but then again, is of much what we ascribe to "kids' tastes" merely a reflection of a self-fulfilling prophecy?
Translated into English: We assume young children will only eat unhealthy crap, so that's what our society advertises and puts into Happy Meals, and thus what parents end up serving their kids.
Why isn't there a "grilled chicken" Happy Meal?
Why don't kids get a bag of baked potato chips instead of greasy fried potato chips with their school lunches?
Why isn't juice (not Hawaiian Punch) usually a choice with children's specials?
And doesn't anyone out there -- corporations or parents -- feel the least bit guilty about actively pushing heart-attacks-on-a-bun on Junior?
Here'd be something interesting to figure out:
- How many kids eventually die from alcohol-related injuries or diseases?
versus
- How many kids eventually die from obesity-related injuries or diseases?
In America, we spend bazillions of dollars enforcing ridiculous (and globally often ridiculed) laws prohibiting 16 year olds from having a glass of wine with dinner or a beer at their family picnic.
But somehow it doesn't seem to bother our collective conscience that we're fattening up our kids to death... not just allowing them to eat artery-clogging junk, but actively encouraging, facilitating, and celebrating this sort of deadly diet.
Don't get me wrong... I'm not personally living on a diet of broccoli and water, nor do I begrudge anyone (including myself!) the occasional ice cream or juicy steak or any other food for that matter. Rather, I'm simply disgusted by the fact that we don't offer our kids any alternatives... in effect teaching them that hamburgers are a "Happy Meal" and that green stuff is something that they're forced to eat at home (seemingly as a punishment) before they can eat the "good stuff."
And then we wonder why our kids become Super-Sized(tm).
Wednesday, August 21, 2002
New York view
(Click picture to see larger version)Not sure why this picture particularly resonates with me, but it does.
It was taken in October 2000 in the former Manhattan office of now-bankrupt Niehaus Ryan Wong PR.
Talk is cheap... and wonderful
Last night I had the pleasure of getting together in San Francisco with a very engaging woman I briefly met in Helsinki, Finland. Before we knew it, we had spent three-and-a-half hours just chatting over our tea and pastries.
It reminded me so much of Europe... sipping drinks, smiling, lingering and learning. What a wonderful evening!
It reminded me so much of Europe... sipping drinks, smiling, lingering and learning. What a wonderful evening!
Monday, August 19, 2002
Front seat passengers
For some strange reason, I was just mulling over the fact that many of the taxi drivers outside the U.S. expect you to sit up front with them and indeed are a bit puzzled and/or miffed if you don't.
Why do you think this is?
Why do you think this is?
Mutual admiration
Click to see larger version,and feel free to add your own caption! :-)
In October, 2001, I had the pleasure of visiting my German friends Mirja and Fraenzi at San Diego State University. The picture here is of Mirja in Balboa Park. You can see more pictures from my trip here, or you can check out the general SmileZone picture archives here.
A spring in your step and a bounce in your soul
Now that I think about it, the bouncing is a universal happy action for me. I bounce when I'm excited about pretty much anything. I think my heart jumps first, and my body has no choice but to follow.
- my friend Jennifer Balderama as Tigger
Following her more sobering examination of an essay on "post-meaning existence," Jennifer blogged a simple and smile-inducing observation about how life's little pleasures amusingly reverberate physically through our bodies when we let them.
I've always liked Jen as a person and as a writer... but learning of her reverence for good food elevates my opinion of her even more :D
Reliving 9/11 in all the wrong ways
Film of people running and screaming away from the debris cloud from the World Trade Center is particularly upsetting to young people, he said.
- Psychiatrist Harold Koplewicz, hired by NBC to explain the obvious to them
For those of you who still watch TV, get ready for the screams and endless bouts of chilling music, horrific video clips, and solemn newscasters pandering to self-absorbed Americans and the all-important network ratings in the coming weeks.
That's right, it's getting close to the 9/11 anniversary. And while I may seem horribly callous and politically incorrect, I'm disgusted by our country's self-obsession, sensationalist news coverage, and generally complete obliviousness to the fact that far more people die awful deaths in other ways and other countries... even when there aren't backgrounds that make for such 'compelling' TV coverage.
Without meaning any disrespect towards those who died in the Twin Towers, I can't think of anything positive in all the "One Year Later" coverage. I just hope none of our nations' songwriters take it upon themselves to write new ballads for the occasion. Nor am I eager to see new variations on those obnoxious American-flag-as-shopping-basket signs in store windows; "America -- STILL open for business!"? Ack.
A Canadian friend last night expressed sympathy to me about 9/11, but then admitted, "I had hoped that at least one positive thing would be that you guys [Americans] would be humbled a bit. But just the opposite happened."
Indeed.
When folks from other countries suffer from an attack, whether natural (flood) or 'man-made', they typically clean things up, mourn, and then get on with their lives. Better yet, they seem to often look inward to understand, prepare, and prevent.
But instead, we replayed the tragedy again and again and again on TV, our Chief urged us to be good Barbies and Kens ("go shopping!"), rotation of patriotic songs on the airwaves increased a bazillion percent, and even our largely tone-deaf legislators decided to get yet less work done by singing "God Bless America" on the steps of Congress.
Solidarity is one thing. Grandstanding soundbites, however, are a different beast altogether.
We've demonstrated our knack for self-pity and self-aggrandizement, but avoided asking ourselves pertinent questions and making tough decisions, trapped in between the ineffectual and bleating one-note far-leftists ("It's all our fault! Let's come up with new anti-war chants!") and the scarily militant rightist hawks ("Hey, we kicked some Afghanistani butt! Iraq, here we come!")
In the coming 9/11-one-year-later marathons, we'll get tearful interviews with survivors, more worship of brave firemen, and sternly proud clips of our politicians in action. Humanizing? Perhaps. Informing? No.
So with docudramas edging out thoughtful introspection, we're relegated to passive recipients of patriotic pablum and temporarily stirring heroism. Rather than being enabled or encouraged to understand history, we are instead condemned to repeat it. And that is the most tragic of all.
Friday, August 16, 2002
The Haunted Ferris Wheel
(Click on the picture to see bigger version)
I took this photo at the San Francisco "KFOG Kaboom" festival a couple of summers ago.
Check out some other artsy and also amusing shots I took from this event by clicking here.
Your personal data as socks
I'm worried that just as clothes dryers have the knack of making socks disappear, the federal government has discovered a core competency of losing computers
- Senator Chuck Grassley, underscoring the not-very-reassuring fact that the U.S. government can't seem to account for *2,000* of its laptops that are now missing
400 laptops lost by law enforcement and related agencies.
Personal tax data not wiped from missing laptops.
Read more and weep in this short but troubling article in CNET.
On overreaching gov't and the power of the free market
I'm to the left of the political scale, in case you hadn't guessed, but I do definitely get peeved at the left's overreaching, too.
While I don't know whether the legislator below (Reed, proposing the anti-cell phone law) is a Democrat, the fact that his law imposes additional regulations on private businesses seems to indicate that he may be.
Although I think more gov't regulation is needed in some areas (such as, ahem, reigning in corporate malfeasance), I don't think the gov't should play a role in dictating to companies how their customers should interact (barring safety concerns).
In other words, while it'd have been one thing for Reed to ban cell phone yakking in gov't owned facilities (e.g., libraries, hospitals, etc.), it's another thing entirely to tell private companies (restaurants, movie theaters, erc.) what their environment should be like.
Why not leave this up to the free market? If people really are so peeved about inconsiderate cell phone usage while they're watching the latest movie, have them complain to the theatre's management, who could then (I'm assuming) pass a rule prohibiting the non-emergency use of cell phones in their theatre.
Perhaps it could be a positive differentiator; "AMC -- Great movies, no cell phone chatter!" You laugh, but if you could pay the same price to see the same movie at either theatre within a 5 block radius, wouldn't YOU choose the one that bans cell phone yakking inside? :-)
Come to think of it, that might be a great bonus for restaurants, too. "Enjoy listening to live music... not cell phone ringers." Or my favorite, "Patrons subject to $50 surcharge for cell-phone usage, which will be discreetly added to the bill."
What do you think? :-)
While I don't know whether the legislator below (Reed, proposing the anti-cell phone law) is a Democrat, the fact that his law imposes additional regulations on private businesses seems to indicate that he may be.
Although I think more gov't regulation is needed in some areas (such as, ahem, reigning in corporate malfeasance), I don't think the gov't should play a role in dictating to companies how their customers should interact (barring safety concerns).
In other words, while it'd have been one thing for Reed to ban cell phone yakking in gov't owned facilities (e.g., libraries, hospitals, etc.), it's another thing entirely to tell private companies (restaurants, movie theaters, erc.) what their environment should be like.
Why not leave this up to the free market? If people really are so peeved about inconsiderate cell phone usage while they're watching the latest movie, have them complain to the theatre's management, who could then (I'm assuming) pass a rule prohibiting the non-emergency use of cell phones in their theatre.
Perhaps it could be a positive differentiator; "AMC -- Great movies, no cell phone chatter!" You laugh, but if you could pay the same price to see the same movie at either theatre within a 5 block radius, wouldn't YOU choose the one that bans cell phone yakking inside? :-)
Come to think of it, that might be a great bonus for restaurants, too. "Enjoy listening to live music... not cell phone ringers." Or my favorite, "Patrons subject to $50 surcharge for cell-phone usage, which will be discreetly added to the bill."
What do you think? :-)
Shut the &*@&! up
New York Councilman Philip Reed has proposed a law to ban cell phone gabbing in "any place to which the public is invited or permitted and where members of the public assemble to witness cultural, recreational or educational activities."
How dumb. What's he going to do next, ban New Yorkers from talking loud in restaurants? From bumping into each other on the crowded streets and not apologizing?
While I have very little sympathy for the mobile phone industry and even less respect for those people who do chit-chat on their phones incessantly, I don't believe in legislation on ethical and moral issues that don't really hurt anyone.
Yes, I think it's supremely annoying that some people can't seem to wait 18 extra minutes to express googly-eye thoughts to their honey on the bus ("Yes, honey, oh, I'm now crossing 37th... I should be home any minute. How's poochie? Yes, I love you too...") Barf.
I am also similarly annoyed by loud gum-chewers, people who fill up their 10 gallon jug at the drinking fountain at the gym, and other assorted cretins. But I don't ask my local legislators to pass laws against them.
Doesn't Philip Reed have anything more pressing to attend to in politics? Maybe instead of proposing lame laws, he could instead simply informally encourage folks that are fed up to exert some extra peer pressure in person on the jerks who insist on yakking in the theatre -- on the phone or otherwise.
Or perhaps even better yet... people in NY and elsewhere could discover the beauty of text messaging (SMS), just like the SMS-crazy Europeans and Asians. Short messages are pretty easy to send, they're cheap or free, and they disturb neither the recipient nor the people around the sender.
Sounds a lot better than sending in policeman after chronic yakkers, doesn't it? :-)
How dumb. What's he going to do next, ban New Yorkers from talking loud in restaurants? From bumping into each other on the crowded streets and not apologizing?
While I have very little sympathy for the mobile phone industry and even less respect for those people who do chit-chat on their phones incessantly, I don't believe in legislation on ethical and moral issues that don't really hurt anyone.
Yes, I think it's supremely annoying that some people can't seem to wait 18 extra minutes to express googly-eye thoughts to their honey on the bus ("Yes, honey, oh, I'm now crossing 37th... I should be home any minute. How's poochie? Yes, I love you too...") Barf.
I am also similarly annoyed by loud gum-chewers, people who fill up their 10 gallon jug at the drinking fountain at the gym, and other assorted cretins. But I don't ask my local legislators to pass laws against them.
Doesn't Philip Reed have anything more pressing to attend to in politics? Maybe instead of proposing lame laws, he could instead simply informally encourage folks that are fed up to exert some extra peer pressure in person on the jerks who insist on yakking in the theatre -- on the phone or otherwise.
Or perhaps even better yet... people in NY and elsewhere could discover the beauty of text messaging (SMS), just like the SMS-crazy Europeans and Asians. Short messages are pretty easy to send, they're cheap or free, and they disturb neither the recipient nor the people around the sender.
Sounds a lot better than sending in policeman after chronic yakkers, doesn't it? :-)
Thursday, August 15, 2002
Friends don't let Friends AOL
AOL continues to send its users onto the increasingly speedy information superhighway in brightly colored, beeping golf carts.
- one of my favorite quotes from "Here Comes Version 8.0" in this Fortune magazine article online
Heh heh... not much more I need to add to that :-)
Wednesday, August 14, 2002
Strange beetle in Costa Rica
(Click on picture to see larger version)This picture was taken in late November 2000 in Lapaz Waterfall Gardens, in Monta?a Azul, Heredia, Costa Rica. I also took some amazing shots of butterflies, but alas, I've not yet put this part of my Costa Rica photograph gallery online.
You can, however, see many of my other Costa Rica pictures here :-)
Everlasting Friendship
Tonight while waiting in line for a weights class ("Rep Reebok") at my gym I met a really sweet French girl and we got to talking about Parisians (she's not one), Americans, and -- most interestingly -- friendships.
She suggested to me, as have many other Europeans, that Americans are more outgoing and friendly and "nice" than folks in many other cultures, but that we don't treat close friendships in the same way. Specifically, we may have more "friends" at any given moment, but we don't often really work to deepen our friendships, or even maintain them over time.
She elaborated further, "When I move back to France in a year, I know Veronique will still be my friend, still there, waiting for me."
My natural instinct was to defend my culture, to defend myself... to note that I have some wonderful American friends, and that it's not uncommon for people to have and keep "best friends" here. Or, at minimum, I thought about justifying the perceived differences in our cultures by noting that Americans are more transient... moving more often... and having to remain slightly more guarded and less attached, lest they repeatedly have their hearts torn.
But in the end, I just nodded my head. "I understand you," I answered. "Each Winter I return to Germany to see friends that mean just as much to me now as they did when I lived just a few miles from them. I think about them all the time, and I care about them a lot."
She smiled. I don't know if she believed me. And I'm not sure if I think Americans are really more shallow than the French at their very core. Perhaps we just have different ways of expressing friendship and love?
But inside, actually, I winced. And I wondered with some sadness how many of my friends now will still truly be friends when I am far away.
She suggested to me, as have many other Europeans, that Americans are more outgoing and friendly and "nice" than folks in many other cultures, but that we don't treat close friendships in the same way. Specifically, we may have more "friends" at any given moment, but we don't often really work to deepen our friendships, or even maintain them over time.
She elaborated further, "When I move back to France in a year, I know Veronique will still be my friend, still there, waiting for me."
My natural instinct was to defend my culture, to defend myself... to note that I have some wonderful American friends, and that it's not uncommon for people to have and keep "best friends" here. Or, at minimum, I thought about justifying the perceived differences in our cultures by noting that Americans are more transient... moving more often... and having to remain slightly more guarded and less attached, lest they repeatedly have their hearts torn.
But in the end, I just nodded my head. "I understand you," I answered. "Each Winter I return to Germany to see friends that mean just as much to me now as they did when I lived just a few miles from them. I think about them all the time, and I care about them a lot."
She smiled. I don't know if she believed me. And I'm not sure if I think Americans are really more shallow than the French at their very core. Perhaps we just have different ways of expressing friendship and love?
But inside, actually, I winced. And I wondered with some sadness how many of my friends now will still truly be friends when I am far away.
Titilating Puritanism and Asses of Evil
While I guess this isn't breaking news at this point, I just heard that the winner of the Miss N. Carolina pageant resigned after "her former boyfriend had contacted the Miss America organization, saying he had nude photos of her" unbenownst to her when she was changing clothes.
Lordy, and to think that this woman had the audacity to be NAKED during the process!
Actually, in this article, it's shown how other beauty queens have been adversely (perversely?) affected as well. Only in America...
Lordy, and to think that this woman had the audacity to be NAKED during the process!
Actually, in this article, it's shown how other beauty queens have been adversely (perversely?) affected as well. Only in America...
Tuesday, August 13, 2002
What kind of intercourse was that?!?
I am not looking for a bf so pls. skip my ad if you are looking for a romantic encounter. I only seek inteligent intercourse w/a bright like minded male. Must be well traveled and read. Age is relevant.
- Recently posted personals ad, reprinted in its glorious entirety
Sometimes it's more obvious than not why a particular person may still be single.
Trying to raise money for their new uniforms...
Trying to raise funds for their new uniforms and having ceeded bake sale rights to their Girl Scout counterparts, the Boy Scouts resignedly put themselves up for rent in this remote area of Costa Rica.Okay, okay, so perhaps it was just a typo, but this was indeed a sign near one of the volcanos in Costa Rica. I'll post a more scenic picture later :-)
Loyalty, tact, and discretion
Two friends, Danielle and Kami are on a holiday in Hawaii, and together they end up meeting and chatting with a charming fella, a fellow tourist. Danielle gives her e-mail address, and two weeks later, to her surprise, the guy sends her a friendly e-mail.
QUESTIONS:
QUESTIONS:
- Should Danielle mention this to Kami, knowing that Kami may be jealous and/or may ask her for the guy's contact info?
- If Danielle does tell Kami and Kami asks for the guy's e-mail address, what should Danielle do?
- Would your answers be any different if the gender roles were reversed (two guys and one girl)?
- Exactly what issues are at stake here?
I'm very eager to hear your take on this scenario, which is indeed based upon a real situation.
The joys and perils of flirting
I'm an unrepentant flirt. There, I admitted it.
But boy, it's hard to shift gears!
When I'm on the (Lindy Hop) dance floor, it's all about flirting (in a non-sleazy way). My partner is -- as the famous Frankie Manning always reminds us -- my QUEEN. I bow to her, smile for her, basically cherish her joyfully for at least the three-and-a-half minutes that the song lasts.
I love it :-)
There's a wonderful sense and expectation of playfulness, connection, focused interest. The follow generally wants to be noticed, appreciated, addressed.
Compare this with life off the dance floor.
When I'm at the gym, even smiling and making eye contact with an attractive woman working out next to me seemingly exposes me to the risk of sexual harrassment. Women at the gym, as my female friends sternly remind me, are not there to be flirted with or even noticed. They're hot and sweaty (my friends describe, with a crinkled face) and only there to work out, dammit.
This brings two questions to mind, though:
Of course, I remind myself to be good. The last time I asked out my kickboxing instructor, she moved to Arizona after our first date. I'm not kidding.
And it's not just the gym where I have to disable my flirting mode. Yesterday when I treated myself to a late afternoon coffee, I couldn't help but notice that the girls behind the counter -- excuse me, baristas -- were much more attractive than the coffee menu.
But then I reminded myself that:
- They're probably sick and tired of being appreciated for things other than their java brewing abilities.
- They're about ten years too young for me.
- There's not much more cliche'd than hitting on waitresses or baristas.
This made my coffee purchase much less fun.
And I thought, dang, it'd sure be nice if I could just let go and flirt without the baggage of worrying whether the object(s) of my flirtation automatically assume I'm just trying to "get some."
I'm a guy. Of course I'm not averse to "getting some." But, contrary to the assertions of militant feminists, frustratingly stupid womens' magazines, and pathetic radio call-in shows, the horizontal hula is not the singular motivating goal in guys' behavior.
Hey, quit laughing! Yeah, you...!
[sigh] I bet Frankie Manning never had it so rough.
But boy, it's hard to shift gears!
When I'm on the (Lindy Hop) dance floor, it's all about flirting (in a non-sleazy way). My partner is -- as the famous Frankie Manning always reminds us -- my QUEEN. I bow to her, smile for her, basically cherish her joyfully for at least the three-and-a-half minutes that the song lasts.
I love it :-)
There's a wonderful sense and expectation of playfulness, connection, focused interest. The follow generally wants to be noticed, appreciated, addressed.
Compare this with life off the dance floor.
When I'm at the gym, even smiling and making eye contact with an attractive woman working out next to me seemingly exposes me to the risk of sexual harrassment. Women at the gym, as my female friends sternly remind me, are not there to be flirted with or even noticed. They're hot and sweaty (my friends describe, with a crinkled face) and only there to work out, dammit.
This brings two questions to mind, though:
- Why are they wearing makeup and designer outfits? This does undeniably contrast stunningly with my typical grubby attire and unshaven visage.
- There are hot, sweaty, and athletic women huffing and puffing next to me, and I'm somehow not supposed to notice?!?
Of course, I remind myself to be good. The last time I asked out my kickboxing instructor, she moved to Arizona after our first date. I'm not kidding.
And it's not just the gym where I have to disable my flirting mode. Yesterday when I treated myself to a late afternoon coffee, I couldn't help but notice that the girls behind the counter -- excuse me, baristas -- were much more attractive than the coffee menu.
But then I reminded myself that:
- They're probably sick and tired of being appreciated for things other than their java brewing abilities.
- They're about ten years too young for me.
- There's not much more cliche'd than hitting on waitresses or baristas.
This made my coffee purchase much less fun.
And I thought, dang, it'd sure be nice if I could just let go and flirt without the baggage of worrying whether the object(s) of my flirtation automatically assume I'm just trying to "get some."
I'm a guy. Of course I'm not averse to "getting some." But, contrary to the assertions of militant feminists, frustratingly stupid womens' magazines, and pathetic radio call-in shows, the horizontal hula is not the singular motivating goal in guys' behavior.
Hey, quit laughing! Yeah, you...!
[sigh] I bet Frankie Manning never had it so rough.
Wait, honey, I think I dropped something
Click to see larger version,and feel free to add your own caption! :-)
Monday, August 12, 2002
The real pirates
When copyright owners extend the copyright terms of existing works, as they've done repeatedly in the past, they are taking works that would otherwise enter the public domain and keeping them private. That is a theft from the public, from you and me, and it surely amounts to tens of billions of dollars. So who's the real pirate?
- the consistently thoughtful Dan Gillmor in "We must engage in copyright debate"
This is an issue I hadn't previously considered, and I think it may have indeed gotten a bit buried amongst the other demonstrated evils and examples of copyright holders' greed.
Dan has promised to highlight concrete steps we consumers can take to protect our rights against the control-grabbing entertainment industry. In the meantime, I encourage all of us to not only chastise congresscritters who are in bed with the RIAA and MPAA, but also to praise those who are on the right side of copyright issues.
Corporate America wins the i-DunceCap award
In the mid-'90s, as the New York media world woke up to the Net's rise, I always assumed that reports of media leaders' online virginity were highly exaggerated. I mean, how hard was it to install an AOL disk? But Motavalli's account leaves it quite clear that, yes, many of these guys who were getting their companies on the Net really hadn't ever used it themselves.
- from Scott Rosenberg's well-written Salon.com article entitled "The media titans still don't get it"
Scott intelligently (and often wittily) examines two books on the crash of the dot.com era which approach the flameout from dramatically different angles. While his conclusion of where the power of the Net lies isn't shocking ("It's the users, stupid") his highlighting of the overall triumph of consumer-over-clueless-Corporate-America is both reassuring and interesting.
A sane article on insane terrorism
Richard A. Muller has written a cogent and very readable article in the MIT Technology Review entitled "Airport Insecurity." In a nutshell, he smartly explains why banning nail clippers and similar sharp objects is stupid, searching "little old ladies" is understandable, and why it's all about the shoes.
Hollywood director wants butts extinguished
My hands are bloody; so are Hollywood's. My cancer has caused me to attempt to cleanse mine. I don't wish my fate upon anyone in Hollywood, but I beg that Hollywood stop imposing it upon millions of others.
- famous Hollywood director Joe Eszterhas, in a New York Times editorial (free registration required to read NYT stories)
The rest of Eszterhas editorial is no less dramatic. His mea culpa for producing films which, as he bluntly admits, glamorized smoking... is both palpable and painful.
I may not agree with some of his dramatic comments, such as his suggestion that "smoking should be as illegal as heroin." But I recognize and sympathize with his concern about the horrific impact of cigarettes on our society, and -- in particular -- on our society's youth.
I wonder what impact his editorial will have on other Hollywood directors.
What do you think about his views?
Hard technical support
In a usergroup dedicated to troubleshooting of a particular software app, one frustrated user posted a note titled, "Can't get it up on a Mac!"
The immediate reply, I felt, was on target and priceless:
"Red wine and a Barry White album might do the trick."
The immediate reply, I felt, was on target and priceless:
"Red wine and a Barry White album might do the trick."
Sunday, August 11, 2002
Whew!
I just finished hand-importing all my old entries from my Salon / Radio blog, may it rest in peace. For those who care why I switched, read on...
I still do highly recommend the Salon / Radio route for anyone who'd like to get a blog up and running pretty easily with minimal fuss and expense. With their setup, you get a 30-day free trial with truly point-and-click software that enables you to compose your blog as easily as you'd write a Word document, and have it automagically appear on your public blog with just a click or two.
So why have I defected to MovableType (the software that runs this blog)? Well, mainly because it is much more powerful and flexible for geeks like me :-)
Anyway, as you can tell, I still have a lot of work to do on this blog... adding links, and -- if I'm really ambitious -- adding in the dozens and dozens of blog entries I've posted on my SmileZone Conversation Corner journal. Now THAT will take some major time! Ack!
In the meantime, please feel free to bluntly let me know what you like and don't like about this new blog and blog format. Everything from my writing style to content to the presentation is fair game. You can comment below, or contact me privately.
And hey, thanks for reading!
I still do highly recommend the Salon / Radio route for anyone who'd like to get a blog up and running pretty easily with minimal fuss and expense. With their setup, you get a 30-day free trial with truly point-and-click software that enables you to compose your blog as easily as you'd write a Word document, and have it automagically appear on your public blog with just a click or two.
So why have I defected to MovableType (the software that runs this blog)? Well, mainly because it is much more powerful and flexible for geeks like me :-)
Anyway, as you can tell, I still have a lot of work to do on this blog... adding links, and -- if I'm really ambitious -- adding in the dozens and dozens of blog entries I've posted on my SmileZone Conversation Corner journal. Now THAT will take some major time! Ack!
In the meantime, please feel free to bluntly let me know what you like and don't like about this new blog and blog format. Everything from my writing style to content to the presentation is fair game. You can comment below, or contact me privately.
And hey, thanks for reading!
Does it get any better than this?
I recently got back from Lindy in the Park (LitP), an every-Sunday event where 50-150 of us crazy swing dancers get together to dance on a large 'bandstand' in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park... usually in front of dozens of gawking tourists with videocams :D
Sometimes I'm asked why I get up nearly every Sunday morning to go to LitP. The answers are easy:
- Sun (almost always)
- Great music (mixture of big band swing, 60's oldies, and much more)
- Fun dancing (Lindy Hop is where it's at!)
- Opportunity to hang out with friends
- Beautiful women in my arms
How can you top that?!? :-)
Next Sunday is the 6 Year Anniversary of Lindy in the Park, being commemorated by extended hours and a huge potluck. I'm guessing there'll be 200-300 people there, and I can't wait!
Sometimes I'm asked why I get up nearly every Sunday morning to go to LitP. The answers are easy:
- Sun (almost always)
- Great music (mixture of big band swing, 60's oldies, and much more)
- Fun dancing (Lindy Hop is where it's at!)
- Opportunity to hang out with friends
- Beautiful women in my arms
How can you top that?!? :-)
Next Sunday is the 6 Year Anniversary of Lindy in the Park, being commemorated by extended hours and a huge potluck. I'm guessing there'll be 200-300 people there, and I can't wait!
Saturday, August 10, 2002
An ugly prodigy
The MovableType software which powers this blog is geeky in the most stereotypically geek sense.
Brilliant. Different. And fugly.
While the control panel is reasonably elegant... Lord, couldn't the brilliant authors of this software have come up with (or bribed others to come up with) some decent looking style templates? :-)
And I don't wanna hear any of this, "Well, if you're so hot and bothered by the aesthetics of this software, why are you using it, and why aren't you getting off your (assumedly) fat ass and making/contributing your own styles?"
My answers:
- MovableType is, from what I've heard, the most powerful and stable blogging tool out there. And indeed, so far, so good!
- I'm a musician, Jim, not an visual artist or a CSS programmer.
- Because I can.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog while I go back and continue the drudgerous but IMHO at-least-somewhat-important task of manually (blah!) importing my former blog entries from Radio/Salon.
Brilliant. Different. And fugly.
While the control panel is reasonably elegant... Lord, couldn't the brilliant authors of this software have come up with (or bribed others to come up with) some decent looking style templates? :-)
And I don't wanna hear any of this, "Well, if you're so hot and bothered by the aesthetics of this software, why are you using it, and why aren't you getting off your (assumedly) fat ass and making/contributing your own styles?"
My answers:
- MovableType is, from what I've heard, the most powerful and stable blogging tool out there. And indeed, so far, so good!
- I'm a musician, Jim, not an visual artist or a CSS programmer.
- Because I can.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog while I go back and continue the drudgerous but IMHO at-least-somewhat-important task of manually (blah!) importing my former blog entries from Radio/Salon.
What the heck...?!?
For those of you who are wandering in here this weekend due to seeing this site 'updated' on weblogs.com... please note that I'm in the process of adding old entries from my Salon/Radio blog. Sorry for any confusion.
And yes, I'll be fixing up the look-and-feel of this blog and adding links and such soon. Sit tight! :-)
NOTE: All entries below (prior to this) have been copied-and-pasted from my old Salon/Radio blog. Please do let me know if you find any funky links. Thanks! :-)
Friday, August 9, 2002
Oh, my, Adam, it's so biiiiiiig!
WARNING: Drinks may be as large as they appear!
(and yes, this had alcohol in it, er, at least from what I remember!)
Dare to Be Stupid
Simple steps for reproducing issue:
I Dare to be Stupid.
- Don't go the gym for 7 weeks (hey, I was in Europe for 5 of those weeks, and hardly a couch potato, but still...)
- First time back, go for the toughest kickboxing class you can find with the most mean-ass instructor.
- Follow this up, back-to-back, with an intense hour of weights.
- Go swing dancing for four hours the next night.
- Note the following day that some tasks, such as moving, involve uncomfortable sensations.
I Dare to be Stupid.
Voting -- How about quality not quantity?
WARNING: Elitist sentiments ahead!
In contrast with a recent editorial I've read in The Nation, I'd like to suggest that we need to improve the quality, not quantity of people voting.
I know, this is heresy, suggesting that perhaps, just maybe, we should NOT be pleading for some people to vote... especially coming from a relatively left-of-center that I am. However, a recent push for an "Election Day Voter Registration" initiative ("EDR") seems rather misguided to me.
My belief is that if you can't plan ahead a couple of weeks to vote, then you aren't serious enough about voting to begin with and the loss of your vote isn't much worth crying over. EDR advocates argue that the registration processes can be cumbersome and confusing, but again... I feel that if you can't figure out how to write your name and address on a form or two, you shouldn't be voting. It reminds me of an entertaining (and perhaps apocryphal) Southwest Airlines story in which the flight attendants quip while demonstrating how to fasten a seat belt, "...but if you don't already know how to fasten a seatbelt, perhaps you shouldn't be flying."
Do we really WANT to make voting more convenient? Shouldn't there be some expectation of preparation, study, understanding of the candidates and their (actual) positions? I realize that any suggestion of a voting "test" smacks of racist intent, which indeed was case with earlier tests. But is it so wrong to desire voters to have at least a very basic understanding of Election Day propositions beyond what's written on bumper stickers?
EDR advocates have suggested that their proposal is a huge cure for apathetic voter turnout on Election Day. Could it be, however, that people are staying away from the polls because they are disgusted by American politics and feel their vote really doesn't matter? How would EDR get at the root of this disenchantment?
"We have to lower the barriers to voting every way we can," insists Rob McKay, a major backer of EDR. I respectfully disagree. I'd rather spend the time, money, and energy on making our current voters more informed and encouraging more people to prepare ahead of time to be informed and active voters.
Quality, not quantity. What a radical concept ;-)
In contrast with a recent editorial I've read in The Nation, I'd like to suggest that we need to improve the quality, not quantity of people voting.
I know, this is heresy, suggesting that perhaps, just maybe, we should NOT be pleading for some people to vote... especially coming from a relatively left-of-center that I am. However, a recent push for an "Election Day Voter Registration" initiative ("EDR") seems rather misguided to me.
My belief is that if you can't plan ahead a couple of weeks to vote, then you aren't serious enough about voting to begin with and the loss of your vote isn't much worth crying over. EDR advocates argue that the registration processes can be cumbersome and confusing, but again... I feel that if you can't figure out how to write your name and address on a form or two, you shouldn't be voting. It reminds me of an entertaining (and perhaps apocryphal) Southwest Airlines story in which the flight attendants quip while demonstrating how to fasten a seat belt, "...but if you don't already know how to fasten a seatbelt, perhaps you shouldn't be flying."
Do we really WANT to make voting more convenient? Shouldn't there be some expectation of preparation, study, understanding of the candidates and their (actual) positions? I realize that any suggestion of a voting "test" smacks of racist intent, which indeed was case with earlier tests. But is it so wrong to desire voters to have at least a very basic understanding of Election Day propositions beyond what's written on bumper stickers?
EDR advocates have suggested that their proposal is a huge cure for apathetic voter turnout on Election Day. Could it be, however, that people are staying away from the polls because they are disgusted by American politics and feel their vote really doesn't matter? How would EDR get at the root of this disenchantment?
"We have to lower the barriers to voting every way we can," insists Rob McKay, a major backer of EDR. I respectfully disagree. I'd rather spend the time, money, and energy on making our current voters more informed and encouraging more people to prepare ahead of time to be informed and active voters.
Quality, not quantity. What a radical concept ;-)
Thursday, August 8, 2002
Whip me beat me write on my body
The UCSF Pain Clinical Research Center is seeking healthy volunteers between the ages of 18 and 60. If you do not suffer from any chronic pain, you may be eligible to participate in a research study of experimentally-produced pain and analgesic medications. Participants must be able to come to the UCSF Pain Clinical Research Center for five sessions at least one week apart. Flexible scheduling and paid participation.
Part of me wonders about self-selection biases. What if they get a whole lot of S&M folks with high pain tolerances? Does this mean the experiments are then going to result in super-weak pain drugs? Or maybe I just have too vivid of an imagination? All I can say is... I'm not rushing to sign up!
Oh, and the title of this entry? It refers actually to one of the (many) strange annual parties I enjoyed while living in Northwestern University's Willard Residential College (dorm).
Tuesday, August 6, 2002
Damn, I know it's in here somewhere!
(Click picture to enlarge)
Any guesses as to what's going on here, and where "here" is? Captions heartily welcomed... (and my favorites will be added here below).
Great way to wake up
Okay, so I can think of some TRULY great ways to wake up, but since this isn't an X-rated blog, you'll have to be content with me speaking the virtues of the amazingly handy-dandy contraption pictured on the right here, the aptly named "Shake Awake."
For those of us who occasionally sleep in dorm rooms or hostels (basically like dorm rooms anyway) or for people who need to be woken up independently of their significant other in the same bed, this Shake Awake thing is a Godsend.
Basically, it does what the name implies: clamped under your pillow, it more-or-less-silently shakes you awake with vibrations of increasing frequency until you turn it off. Except for the evening when I forgot to clamp it securely under my pillow and it fell off the bed (whoops!), it reliably woke me up every morning during my 5 week vacation, and I'm a pretty sound sleeper.
Indeed, when I attended the Herr?ng dance camp last year and -- like this year -- roomed in the free accommodations (read: in close quarters with about 40 other folks trying to nap and sleep in the same room), I pissed off quite a few people. You see, while wearing earplugs I failed to hear my loudly beeping traditional alarm clock, and alas, it served as an unintentionally successful wakeup call for many of other dozens of folks in the room.
So this year, at the recommendation of my very smart Lindy Hopping friend Charles, I bought Shake Awake. I woke up each morning without pissing off many of the very beautiful women I'd be dancing with later each evening. And that made Shake Awake worth every penny. :-) I get no commission from sales on this thing, but heck, go nuts and buy one for yourself or buy 'em for others. You'll thank me (and the company that makes the neat little bugger) later!
Immidiate Embarrassment
IMMIDIATE JOB POSTING
[...]
Miraloma Educational Enrichment Program [...]
- from a recent post on a San Francisco community board
Zions Bank, how may we screw you?
Just a brief note to warn people against getting any account (credit card or otherwise) with Zions Bank.
I signed up for one of their credit cards, never received it, never made a charge on it, and the frequent-flier-rewards program with an annual fee was canceled a week after I signed up due to the rewards company going bankrupt.
Nonetheless, despite me cancelling my card ASAP, they continued to send threatening "overdue" notices to me with the program fee and finance charges.
Seven phone calls and reps-promising-a-fix later, I received yet another nastygram in the mail.
The last rep I spoke with promised that the account had indeed finally been closed and set to a zero balance and promised, at my insistence, to send me a faxed confirmation of this the next day. I just got a call from him this afternoon, however, with him apologizing that his company policy "does not allow" him to have any such written notice sent to me unless Zions Bank receives a formal request in writing from an attorney.
I'm ordering a credit report, and if there are any mean marks from Zions Bank on there, I *AM* suing them in small claims court. Sheesh, just what I need to be spending time on now, though... :|
I signed up for one of their credit cards, never received it, never made a charge on it, and the frequent-flier-rewards program with an annual fee was canceled a week after I signed up due to the rewards company going bankrupt.
Nonetheless, despite me cancelling my card ASAP, they continued to send threatening "overdue" notices to me with the program fee and finance charges.
Seven phone calls and reps-promising-a-fix later, I received yet another nastygram in the mail.
The last rep I spoke with promised that the account had indeed finally been closed and set to a zero balance and promised, at my insistence, to send me a faxed confirmation of this the next day. I just got a call from him this afternoon, however, with him apologizing that his company policy "does not allow" him to have any such written notice sent to me unless Zions Bank receives a formal request in writing from an attorney.
I'm ordering a credit report, and if there are any mean marks from Zions Bank on there, I *AM* suing them in small claims court. Sheesh, just what I need to be spending time on now, though... :|
Get a life
"A
new research report predicts that by 2006 people will spend
more time playing video games than they will reading books, It also reports
that people will be spending enormous amounts of time watching cable TV and
the like. C'mon folks. Turn off the TV for a few minutes and talk to your
spouse, your kids, whomever. Go for a hike. Instead of watching
Reality TV you can actually experience reality." [emphasis mine]
-- a spot-on entry from Patrick's "But
Enough About You" blog
Amen! Then again, it's a gorgeous day out today and I'm inside blogging.
Does that make me a complete or only partial hypocrite? ;-)
Working dumb vs. working smart then getting the hell out of the office
So far in my job searching, I've found that corporate Web sites often provide
more amusement or frustration than enlightenment. E-mail addresses that deliver
text into black holes, submission forms that don't submit, and -- my favorite --
Web sites that don't even list a company's actual physical mailing address. Are
they in Berkeley or Boise? Who knows!
But -- color me easily amused -- last night I discovered a company's HR pages
listing among their full-time job benefits: "Paid vacation days." Several
things came to mind:
- We're talking days, not weeks here? Notice the perk
wasn't listed as [x] amount of paid vacation. - Are there any companies offering full time jobs without any paid
vacation days? What next, an HR page bragging about "use of office chairs" or
"free use of office bathrooms!"? - Do non-American firms similarly list the existence of vacation days as a
perk? - Will this blog entry get me blacklisted from certain companies?
Of course, you can probably guess the overall issue I'm getting at here:
American companies are notoriously stingy about vacation days. And forgive me
for sounding lazy, but in my not so humble opinion, there's something wrong with
a culture in which it's common to hear bragging about hours worked and vacation
days NOT taken. The whole quantity vs. quality thing.
I don't know who is more to blame: American companies for typically granting
new employees a stingy 10 days of vacation a year (compared to 20-30 in Europe),
or Americans for taking pride in the fact that they're so "hard working"... and
not ashamed to "see" 5 countries in 10 days on their forced-whirlwind European
vacation.
And the sad thing is... this sort of warped-work-ethic seems to be in place
regardless of the economy. In the boom times here in San Francisco, seemingly
no one dared take even a day off of their Internet-paced job, since every minute
counted towards and following that big IPO!
Now that the economy has cooled and headhunters have ceased calling folks
like me every 3 days, employees are fearful not of losing opportunities, but
losing their jobs if they appear to be less hard-working than the person in the
cubicle next to them.
Worse yet, it seems that companies are increasingly valuing people who work
longer rather than people who work smarter. Similarly, our
society seems to grant more 'prestige' upon careers that require greater time
expenditures. Note the stereotypically proud: "My son is a lawyer!" or
surgeon or doctor and so on. Conversely, I've heard lots of snickering directed
towards my teacher friends who "have it easy, with their summers off and all."
In a strange twist of logic and self-adjustment, then, I've noticed that
several of my friends are actively staying at work longer even when there's
no more work to do... resulting in them filling up their time with IM'ing,
e-mailing, Web surfing, anything so long as they give 'face time' to their
company and don't appear to be slacking by "going home early."
In contrast, at one of my last jobs I was lucky enough to have a smart set of
colleagues in my department; we worked hard when we had deadlines and often
worked late as needed, and then arrived into work late when there was less work
to do. When we had client meetings in the morning, we'd come in early to prep,
and then go home early, and so on. In other words, we worked efficiently,
tailoring our schedule according to the needs of our colleagues, our clients,
and yes, ourselves. I still put in certainly more than 40 hours a week, but I
believe I accomplished quite a bit more than some
overworking-but-underachieving-colleagues who routinely burned the midnight oil.
So I ask... when will the rest of America's companies and workers wise up to
working smarter, not harder? If we need any encouragement, let's note the
French, who have a mandated 35-hour work week, eat long and delicious meals, and
still manage to stay beautiful and thin.
Although, hmm, they all smoke, too. But I guess I digress, and this is stuff
for another post :-)
Monday, August 5, 2002
Is your neighbor a terrorist? Call 1-800-TO FOX TV
As the author of this Salon.com piece notes, it's hard to know whether to be amused or scared that calls from Ashcroft's understandably lampooned Citizen Brigade ("TIPS") have been forwarded to -- no joke -- FOX TV.
More great ways to access your e-mail
In an older post,
I raved about the online mail service called
OddPost.
I'd like to recommend another really cool service, called
Mail2Web, which lets you pick up
your POP mail without cost and without even registering. It's got nowhere near
the nifty interface of OddPost, but it's free and it's useful for when you must
check more than one POP account. They've even got a companion site called
Mail2PDA. Very cool!
When a cranky computer I was using overseas would not connect to OddPost, I
found it worked quite well with Mail2Web. Give both services a try!
Dear Aussie: Shrimps on the barbie, but no (visible) alligator juice
I've traveled all over Europe and even lived in Germany for a year, and I'm embarrassed about my lack of observation on one particular issue: Are people in Europe legally allowed to bring alcoholic beverages into public parks and beaches and the like?
I seem to recall that the answer is yes, and indeed, I know it was pretty common when I was recently in Sweden, but I'm not sure about Europe overall. Anyone know (from either legal and/or practical perspectives)?
Oh, and in case you're curious... this issue worked its way into my head after a friend of mine from Australia queried a public online list asking if it was okay if she brings beer or wine to an upcoming picnic in Golden Gate Park. The swift reply, by the way, was legally, no, but practically, yes... as long as it's concealed in a flask of some sort.
I seem to recall that the answer is yes, and indeed, I know it was pretty common when I was recently in Sweden, but I'm not sure about Europe overall. Anyone know (from either legal and/or practical perspectives)?
Oh, and in case you're curious... this issue worked its way into my head after a friend of mine from Australia queried a public online list asking if it was okay if she brings beer or wine to an upcoming picnic in Golden Gate Park. The swift reply, by the way, was legally, no, but practically, yes... as long as it's concealed in a flask of some sort.
Really worth 3x the price?
This
article just confirmed my worst fears: the likelihood of me ever
affording a home in the Bay Area is about equal to (or rather, dependent upon)
me winning the lottery.
For $198,000, you can get a new
three-bedroom, 2,200-square-foot house from Standard Pacific Homes, complete
with two-car garage, marble sinks and extensive landscaping.But you'll have to move to Dallas or Phoenix.
To buy a similar Standard Pacific house in San Jose, you pay $665,000
-- more than three times as much.
So, is it really three times better in San Francisco than in other large
cities in the nation? I mean, from what I understand, I could even move to
other coastal cities such as Los Angeles for a fraction of what I'd pay here in
San Francisco.
Is SF really all that? I've had lingering doubts, frankly... increasingly
becoming tired of the stratification, the little enclaves of walled-off
"diversity," the holier-than-thou political correctness run amok, and the
ever-present fog over my rent-controlled-but-still-ridiculously-priced-apartment
that I share with my 40-year-old (also bitter) roommate.
And speaking of bitter... forgive me for being a bit on the ranting side
today, but, well, it's Monday. And yet another one of my friends just got laid
off and will be unable to afford his cool apartment anymore... the same one he
used for frequent entertaining social events. I'll miss those parties. But
more importantly, it's just like another nail in the coffin for him and for me.
Maybe I never really belonged here in the Bay Area. Maybe it's time to leave
before I get an even less subtle kick in the ass.
Sunday, August 4, 2002
A new type of mad cow
All the way from Chicago to London! And yes, there's a non-Brit mad cow admirer on the right. Wonder who it could be?
Manpower could use some brainpower
"Links to the Web Site without the express written permission of
Manpower are strictly prohibited."- One of the goofiest terms
stated
on Manpower's Web site
Hi, I'm a model, but don't look at me!
Hi, I'm a movie, but don't review me!
Hi, I'm a Web site that links to other sites, but don't link to me!
Idiocy. So, of course, I'm doing what is screaming out to be done. I'm
linking to
Manpower's Web site (with a twist hello of my own... see link) without
their written permission! Eegads, the lawlessness of it all.
If you're looking for other clueless companies, run, don't walk to the "Don't
Link to us!" blog, where I found out about Manpower's stupidity.
Oh, and just for a good measure, I'm writing to the Webmaster of Manpower,
inviting them to sue me. I could use the free publicity :-)
UPDATE: My e-mail to
.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) bounced. Is this pathetic or what? I'm off
to their Web site to find an actual working e-mail address or at least a form
where I can write and tweak 'em. Wish me luck!
UPDATE #2: I sent an e-mail to one of their corporate mucky-mucks (and got a read-receipt!), and as of August 11, 2002, have heard nothing back. Hmm. Maybe the lawyer's letter hasn't yet arrived in my snailmail box?
Comments I e-mailed to T-Mobile / Voicestream
Here are some comments I sent to T-Mobile / Voicestream after using their service for a week with my Handspring Treo 180:
Hi there,
Unfortunately, you had no option for SUGGESTIONS AND COMMENTS, so... of course, my first suggestion is: please add this to your site. :-)
I've had your service for less than a week, and I've already set aside a lot of time to test it out. Here are my thoughts so far:
GOOD STUFF:
- 24-hour customer service and little waiting on hold.
This is very useful, and much better than my service with Cingular :-)
- Friendly customer service.
Your reps have gone out of their way to be helpful and nice.
- Generous allotment of text messaging.
- Free access to voicemail via landline.
Cingular made me pay extra for this!
- AOL IM access
This is really neat via SMS! Now if you could just get Yahoo to offer the same thing, that'd be especially cool... :-)
- (Comparatively) reasonable intl. roaming rates
Cingular charged $2.99 and up per minute. Your charges start at 99 cents. Much better!
- 1 year contracts and cheap Treo 180
If I wanted a discounted Treo 180 from Cingular, I had to agree to a 2 year extension of my contract and still pay $299. You offered the same unit at $149 (after rebate) and only made me agree to a 1 year contract. That's cool :-)
BAD STUFF:
- Not always informed cs reps.
One of them told me there was "no way" for people to send me e-mail on my phone unless they wrote via your Web site!
- Very confusing and uninformative Web sites.
I know you're in transition, but your knowledgebase is not very useful. Try searching for "e-mail" for instance :( Also, you have a zillion FAQ's seemingly answering exactly the same questions. Additionally, the whole concept of t-zones vs. GPRS access is still confusing to me, even though I'm a certifiable geek!
- Spotty SMS!
Last night, when I was depending upon SMS for my evening plans with friends, many messages were delayed for HOURS :-(
- No network status on Web site
It is a pain for me AND your reps to require me to call in anytime I want to check on a problem / network status. Like with most ISP's, you should list system problems on your Web site, or even via an automated voice prompt on 611.
- Voicemail indicator
Why do I get an SMS and not a voicemail indicator icon when I have voicemail? This isn't good :(
*** - Voice downtime
This afternoon, two of my friends tried to call me but got only busy signals, not even an informative error message or my voicemail! This is really awful when I expect to get "Unlimited Weekends" and I can't even be reached! :(
- No way to check SMS allotment online
I'd like to learn how many messages I've sent and received in a month without calling a rep.
- No free evening minutes
Every other carrier offers free weekend AND night minutes... and it'd be nice if you did the same... even if I had to wait until after 9pm at night.
* * *
Thanks for taking these comments into consideration :-)
Regards,
Adam
[my cell number here]
Hi there,
Unfortunately, you had no option for SUGGESTIONS AND COMMENTS, so... of course, my first suggestion is: please add this to your site. :-)
I've had your service for less than a week, and I've already set aside a lot of time to test it out. Here are my thoughts so far:
GOOD STUFF:
- 24-hour customer service and little waiting on hold.
This is very useful, and much better than my service with Cingular :-)
- Friendly customer service.
Your reps have gone out of their way to be helpful and nice.
- Generous allotment of text messaging.
- Free access to voicemail via landline.
Cingular made me pay extra for this!
- AOL IM access
This is really neat via SMS! Now if you could just get Yahoo to offer the same thing, that'd be especially cool... :-)
- (Comparatively) reasonable intl. roaming rates
Cingular charged $2.99 and up per minute. Your charges start at 99 cents. Much better!
- 1 year contracts and cheap Treo 180
If I wanted a discounted Treo 180 from Cingular, I had to agree to a 2 year extension of my contract and still pay $299. You offered the same unit at $149 (after rebate) and only made me agree to a 1 year contract. That's cool :-)
BAD STUFF:
- Not always informed cs reps.
One of them told me there was "no way" for people to send me e-mail on my phone unless they wrote via your Web site!
- Very confusing and uninformative Web sites.
I know you're in transition, but your knowledgebase is not very useful. Try searching for "e-mail" for instance :( Also, you have a zillion FAQ's seemingly answering exactly the same questions. Additionally, the whole concept of t-zones vs. GPRS access is still confusing to me, even though I'm a certifiable geek!
- Spotty SMS!
Last night, when I was depending upon SMS for my evening plans with friends, many messages were delayed for HOURS :-(
- No network status on Web site
It is a pain for me AND your reps to require me to call in anytime I want to check on a problem / network status. Like with most ISP's, you should list system problems on your Web site, or even via an automated voice prompt on 611.
- Voicemail indicator
Why do I get an SMS and not a voicemail indicator icon when I have voicemail? This isn't good :(
*** - Voice downtime
This afternoon, two of my friends tried to call me but got only busy signals, not even an informative error message or my voicemail! This is really awful when I expect to get "Unlimited Weekends" and I can't even be reached! :(
- No way to check SMS allotment online
I'd like to learn how many messages I've sent and received in a month without calling a rep.
- No free evening minutes
Every other carrier offers free weekend AND night minutes... and it'd be nice if you did the same... even if I had to wait until after 9pm at night.
* * *
Thanks for taking these comments into consideration :-)
Regards,
Adam
[my cell number here]
Saturday, August 3, 2002
New evidence that the RIAA *IS* Evil
Okay, so those reading my headline here may snicker and exclaim, gee, that's a really rough target. Next thing you'll be asserting, Adam, is that San Francisco housing is expensive (whoa!) and McDonald's stuff is unhealthy (but it's 100% beef!) and Britney Spears lacks sophisticated vocal talent (she sings?).
But wait, hear me out... there's yet something new down the "RIAA is Evil" pipe.
In an earlier entry, I was mentioning how grateful I am for the wonderfully diverse and entertaining channels on the online radio site Live365.
No more.
That is to say, Live365 still exists, but due to onerous fees handed down from the RIAA and its lackey congressjerks, all broadcasters on Live365 as of August 1st must pay a $5/month licensing charge, or their broadcasts will cease to be available to non-paying members of Live365 (meaning, probably, about 99.95% of them).
So, when the charges were instituted on Aug 1, I found that all but 2 of the 37 stations I have bookmarked were no longer available to me. No more a cappella jazz. No more swingin' lounge music. I had been willing to put up with the annoying audio and banner ads (hey, Live365 has to earn something somehow), but now 'my' stations were dark. Kaput. No more.
So here we have modern and historical music -- much of it, in my opinion, Beautiful or Art or whatever you want to call something which moves me and touches me and makes me happy -- unavailable due to the evil greediness (and cluelessness) of the RIAA and its minions.
In a nutshell, musicians create, only to have the RIAA hide, manipulate, suppress, and lock down their creations. Given my firm belief that music is an integral part of life itself, I therefore don't think it's a stretch to call the RIAA evil.
Oh, sure, they'll say that the "artists must be compensated!" I agree. But pretty much everyone knows that the RIAA has screwed over artists since its inception, giving them a paltry few cents for every $15.99 CD bought.
And what frustrates me even more is that most of us normal folk have been dying to PAY for a legal "celestial jukebox"... unlimited access to music we know and love and music we don't even yet know about yet but might love and so on. But the RIAA has instead persisted in offering limited and inflexible tidbits of music here and there, treating all of us music lovers as thieves and potential thieves who might "steal" music.
So now I'm not quite what to do when, for instance, I want to discover new (well, new to me) a cappella groups. Groups from University of Virginia and Stockholm and Chicago and all over the place with brilliant arrangements, gorgeous and pulsing sounds, and passion. I surely can't turn on the local "normal" radio, where I'm treated to the same fricking top 40 songs day in and day out, sandwiched in between obnoxious and/or hapless DJ's owned by Clearwater Communications.
And now I apparently can't tune into Internet radio either.
It's a loss not only for me, but the groups and individuals deserving of recognition, deserving of a chance to be heard and appreciated and learned from.
Did I mention that the RIAA is evil?
But wait, hear me out... there's yet something new down the "RIAA is Evil" pipe.
In an earlier entry, I was mentioning how grateful I am for the wonderfully diverse and entertaining channels on the online radio site Live365.
No more.
That is to say, Live365 still exists, but due to onerous fees handed down from the RIAA and its lackey congressjerks, all broadcasters on Live365 as of August 1st must pay a $5/month licensing charge, or their broadcasts will cease to be available to non-paying members of Live365 (meaning, probably, about 99.95% of them).
So, when the charges were instituted on Aug 1, I found that all but 2 of the 37 stations I have bookmarked were no longer available to me. No more a cappella jazz. No more swingin' lounge music. I had been willing to put up with the annoying audio and banner ads (hey, Live365 has to earn something somehow), but now 'my' stations were dark. Kaput. No more.
So here we have modern and historical music -- much of it, in my opinion, Beautiful or Art or whatever you want to call something which moves me and touches me and makes me happy -- unavailable due to the evil greediness (and cluelessness) of the RIAA and its minions.
In a nutshell, musicians create, only to have the RIAA hide, manipulate, suppress, and lock down their creations. Given my firm belief that music is an integral part of life itself, I therefore don't think it's a stretch to call the RIAA evil.
Oh, sure, they'll say that the "artists must be compensated!" I agree. But pretty much everyone knows that the RIAA has screwed over artists since its inception, giving them a paltry few cents for every $15.99 CD bought.
And what frustrates me even more is that most of us normal folk have been dying to PAY for a legal "celestial jukebox"... unlimited access to music we know and love and music we don't even yet know about yet but might love and so on. But the RIAA has instead persisted in offering limited and inflexible tidbits of music here and there, treating all of us music lovers as thieves and potential thieves who might "steal" music.
So now I'm not quite what to do when, for instance, I want to discover new (well, new to me) a cappella groups. Groups from University of Virginia and Stockholm and Chicago and all over the place with brilliant arrangements, gorgeous and pulsing sounds, and passion. I surely can't turn on the local "normal" radio, where I'm treated to the same fricking top 40 songs day in and day out, sandwiched in between obnoxious and/or hapless DJ's owned by Clearwater Communications.
And now I apparently can't tune into Internet radio either.
It's a loss not only for me, but the groups and individuals deserving of recognition, deserving of a chance to be heard and appreciated and learned from.
Did I mention that the RIAA is evil?
A new way to 'get personal'
For a while I've listed info on dating (online and offline) and personal ads on the Relationships page of my smilezone.com site. However, this article on finding dates and, ahem, more (some adult content) via "Room for Rent" ads in San Francisco took me by surprise. And from what the author noted (see left sidebar), this was not totally a work of fiction, either.
As my friend Jack would say, daaaayum! I think I need to take lessons from the author's guy friend :D
As my friend Jack would say, daaaayum! I think I need to take lessons from the author's guy friend :D
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