31, 2006: Turbo Delphi Looms Large
As I write this the countdown
clock for Turbo Delphi broke four days, and it's now 4 days,
23 hours and some minutes until we will know if the new (and as
yet unnamed ) Borland "DevCo" is good to their word. There's
not a lot of hard information on the Turbo Delphi page, but there
are a number of interesting
videos, including one of an Australian fifth grader building
an app in Delphi using Enterprise Core Objects. (I used to admire
girls in fifth grade because they were good at fractions, sheesh.)
However, if you want videos, go straight for the jugular and run
Turbo Delphi Product Manager Nick Hodges' series called "Thirty
Camtasia Demos in Thirty Days." To get a good feel for
what the new IDE is like, start with the very first one and run
through them all. The videos are between eight and twenty minutes
long, and are video screen shots taken (using the superb Camtasia)
of the Delphi IDE, with Nick narrating in the audio channel. The
first one is key: If you decided to stop your Delphi path with V5
or V6, you'll see immediately that we're not in Kansas anymore.
We're not even in Idaho.
I had to grin a little when I saw Nick's Camtasia video series.
One of the things I had been planning to do (and may still do) is
create a Turbo Delphi Explorer tutorial ebook with short Camtasia
screen videos to illustrate the text. Delphi is just one of many
things that shows better than it tells.
Anyway, I'm a little short on time today, but I wanted to make sure
you knew that you can now see Turbo Delphi in action, live and in
real timeand we're less than a week away from being able to
download the real thing. Stay tuned. I'll report my own adventures
in this space.
30, 2006: The Patron Saints of Currency Scribblers
got another one. Years ago, I got a dollar bill in change on which
somebody had scribbled a note in the margin to the effect that if
I wrote this message on ten more bills, St. Lauren would look favorably
upon me. (I thought I wrote it up in Contra at the time, but I don't
see it anywhere in the archives.) I considered it a mildly amusing
fluke, and eventually spent the dollar. Well, the other day I got
another one, this time from someone who invoked St. Jude instead
of St. Lauren and was a little more explicit about the benefits
of the enterprise:
"St. Jude - Anyone
who gets this bill will be blessed with a lot of money - Write
this on ten bills."
Considering that I pay for things with a credit card far oftener
than I use cash, I don't see a lot of paper money anymore. Is this
a genuine craze that I just haven't seen reported in the media?
Have any of you ever gotten a bill like this? I need to ask my sister
(who worked for many years at a bank and probably saw a lot of grimy
currency) if she ever saw one.
Playing with money is not limited to followers of St. Jude and St.
Lauren. I wrote up Where's
George in my October
21, 2002 entry, and there's a similar Web site for Canadians called
Where's Willy? I have better
things to do with my time than track the travels of money that is
now someone else's, but it may be better than watching TV.
29, 2006: Aunt Kathleen's Mogul Lamp
godmother, Kathleen Duntemann, was born on this date in 1920, and
died in June of 1999. I've
written of her before. Ever since then we've been waiting to
bring homein a carsome of the heirlooms she left me
that we didn't feel comfortable shipping. With our recent trip we
finally got everything back to Colorado, and one of those heirlooms
is worth a serious mention here.
I read a lot, and I like bright light when I read. Aunt
Kathleen had a lamp that was unlike any other lamp I've ever used.
It's a floor lamp, done in bronze-colored pot metal. There's a three
way switch just beneath the bulb (left) and a second push-button
foot switch on the base. (There's a conventional lamp shade that
I removed for the photo, since it got crunched a little in the car
and will need to be replaced.) I don't know when the lamp was made.
I think it was postwar, but it could have been earlier, though the
lamp is not deco enough to be 1930s nor baroque enough to be 1920s.
The most remarkable thing about the lamp, however, is how much
light it puts down. And I mean "down;" the lamp has a
interesting globe with white tinted glass on the side and a sort
of molded Fresnel lens in clear glass on the bottom. The lens focuses
light from the bulb so most of it goes downward rather than outward,
and between the white tinted globe and the shade, the side brightness
is much reducedabout what you would expect from a floor lamp.
brightness comes from the mogul-base bulb. The term "Mogul"
describes a larger base standard than your ubiquitous light bulb.
The base is larger because the bulb puts out a lot of light and
thus heat, and there is more metal in the base to keep the solder
bonds from melting. The model I have uses a Mogul-base three-way
bulb with 100, 200, and (wow!) 300 watt filaments. The Mogul base
was created by GE in the 1920s for stage and studio lighting, and
you can still buy industrial
bulbs rated at 400 or even 500 watts. However, 300 watts is
quite enough, thank you, and in the summer, the additional heat
from the bulb will make you sweat.
bulbs and the heat-resistant
ceramic sockets are still available. (My Home Depot has the
bulbs.) In fact, if you wanted to build a lamp something like this,
your main challenge would be finding a similar globe.
I spent a precious hour and a half reading the new Atlantic Monthly
by the lamp last night, and it was delightful. I wonder sometimes
(and worry, at others) if Aunt Kathleen still keeps an eye on me as
she always did when I was young; if so, I think she'll be pleased.
Furniture is just furniture and I'm not by nature a violent guybut
dude, do not mess with my wife, my dog, or my lamp!
28, 2006: Home. Whew.
We got home last night about 7 PM local time here in Colorado,
after leaving Kearney, Nebraska about 12:30. Mileage from Kearney
was 410, and the total run from Carol's mom's front door in Niles
was 1118, though about 15 of that was bopping around Iowa City and
Kearney. We didn't take the most direct route for a number of reasons,
and so we overshot the 1040 mile distance thart I had predicted
by drawing lines in MapPoint.
We didn't leave Kearney until lunchtime. Tractor Supply Company
was great good fun, though it was nowhere near as big nor diverse
as Fleet Farm. (They didn't sell the nice little 8" X 16"
lathes that Fleet Farm did.) I bought a pair of jeans and ogled
trailer axle assemblies in a bin, for Pete's sake. (Maybe somebody
might need three or four on one trip off the ranch.) I was a little
surprised that they didn't sell more in the line of hand toolsI've
been looking for a husky tap wrench capable of taking a 5/8"
tap, and assumed they would have one there. No luck. We told the
people there that we hunted down the store because of the
"action figure" commercials they were running on The
Weather Channel, and they all roared. Front-line employees always
grimace a little at the campaigns that the company's PR and advertising
agencies put together; lord knows we did when I worked at Xerox
25 years ago.
Walking hand-in-hand down the frontage road to TSC from the Best
Western, we passed by a farm equipment dealer, and out in front
of the building was a line of the guldurndest machinery.
It's hard to get a sense for a
monster wheat combine until you actually go up to it and lay
hands on it. (Carol reminded me that, wheat being genetically engineered
grass, what it was was a titanic lawn mower.)
We couldn't walk to Cabela's, but we found it a few miles down
Highway 30, and spent an hour poking around. I neither hunt nor
fish, so most of it was of little genuine interest, but I did enjoy
the plaque reading "Vegetables are what food eats." Right
on, bro. Broccoli is for cows. We bought some very fresh cinnamon
bears, tried on some shoes, looked at GPS receivers, called it a
morning and hit the road.
I surprised myself at how easily I drove a vehicle packed to the
rafters with floor lamps, lathes, lashup telescopes, crystal glassware,
vintage china, wire recorders, 8mm movie projectors, books, Carol's
home movies, Lego bricks, scrap steel, wire nuts, hand drills, pipe
fittings, dog food and dog toys, dirty laundry, and God knows what
else. We hit a little rain west of Kearny, but after that it was
almost ideal driving weather, and we had made such good progress
by 3 PM we decided to just go the rest of the way, which for us
was a major decision.
Once we left Nebraska we took a slightly unusual route back to
the Springs, in that instead of taking I-76 to Denver and then I-25
south, we left I-76 at Brush, Colorado and headed south on Colorado
71, through some mighty empty ranch country. (The sign in
Brush at the beginning of Colorado 71 ominously read "No gas
for 75 miles.") We stopped at a not-quite-a-town named Last
Chance, which had a few houses and a soft-serve ice cream stand
as its only recognizable place of business. We might have had a
cone but it was Sunday afternoon and it was closed.
People cruised at 80 on Colorado 71. It must be a law of nature.
Anyway. This is by far the longest that either of us have been
away from home since before we were married. Carol was gone for
six weeksI for fiveand the house had lain sealed and
empty long enough for its "new-house smell" to return
with force. We spent most of today just unpacking and trying to
figure out what to do with all the rescued family heirlooms. I finally
have Aunt Kathleen's mogul
floor lamp in its long-intended place of honor beside my reading
chair, though the fragile 60-year-old shade took some hits in the
back of the car and may have to be replaced. I have Great Uncle
John's Wade Lathe
model CAV on my workbench, and in October Pete Albrecht and
I are going to try and figure out if it can be saved. And I must
become proficient at Lego before my upcoming brin is old enough
to know not to chew on them. (Oh, the sacrifice!)
Cleaning out the old house was an immense amount of work that simply
had to be done. I'm glad we did it, but I'm glad it's over, and even
gladder to be back at 6500 feet on the side of Cheyenne Mountain.
27, 2006: Kearney, Nebraska
Unremarkable, burn-miles-as-fast-as-you-can kind of day yesterday,
which took us 430 miles from Iowa City, Iowa to Kearney,
Nebraska. (Carol and I don't burn miles as quickly as a lot
of you. Don't razz us for being pokey, middle-aged fogies.) My main
realization today is that everybody cruises at 80, whether the speed
limit is 60, 65, 70 (uncommonly) or 75. We are now two-thirds of
the way home.
I tried to connect to the Net using the ISpot hotspots installed
at every Iowa rest area, but was unable to connect to them except
at the last one, which wanted a lot of rigmarole to create an account.
Excuse me? Create an account? When I'm trying to get my ass out
of your state as fast as I can? I think not.
We got to Kearney by 6:30 PM. This is the flat part of Nebraska
(the more easterly portions are surprisingly rolly, as is Iowa)
and they sell hay rakes and tractors right on the main drag into
town. Nonetheless, there is a significant
university here, and Carol and I felt instantly at home, for
reasons we don't fully understand. I guess there's a bit of the
country boy in me (read "Drumlin Boiler" if you don't
believe it) and if we had ever been here prior to our move from
Arizona in 2003, Kearney may have been a contender.
What we do tomorrow depends heavily on the weather. There are two
stores in Kearney that I have always wanted to visit: Cabela's
(high-end camping stuff) and (don't giggle) Tractor
Supply Company. TSC has always fascinated me because they're
a chain with a very limited range (a few states in the Great Plains)
that advertises incessantly on The Weather Channel. Twenty years
ago, I visited a remarkable retailer named Fleet
Farm in Green Bay, Wisconsin. Horse hypos, small lathes, a million
different kinds of fences, and lots of other great stuff that city
boys almost never see. TSC's commercials suggest that it's the same
thing: Technology for farmers. That's a store I gotta see,
and it's within walking distance of the hotel. Hot jets!
We'll see. In any event, if the Russians ever nuke NORAD and we don't
happen to be in town at the time (we're less than a mile from NORAD's
Big Steel Door) I think we'll collect our insurance settlement
and move to Kearney.
26, 2006: College Town
We got away from the house a little late, and only made 236 miles
our first day. We're not trying to do this all in one sitting, for
the sake of safety as well as sanity. We phoned ahead for a reservation
at the Sheraton in downtown Iowa City. Most Sheratons have good
beds, and for $10 they'll be happy to have QBit as well.
Even though Carol had applied to and interviewed for grad school
here in 1974, we didn't grok the fulness of the fact that Iowa City
is a college town, and the kids had just come back for the fall
session. The Sheraton is right on the downtown pedestrian mall,
which was jammed on this warm Friday night with students waiting
for a salsa concert. There were some pretty unique food carts on
the mall (design your own crepes, anyone?) and a lot of interesting
people. The clothes were different (more bras and fewer tie-dyes
than you would have seen in 1973) but somehow it all looked familiar
to both of us.
No, the big difference between college then and now is that
every third student had a cell phone glued to his or her ear. I
tried to imagine what life would have been like if I could have
called any of my friends at any time at all. No clue. I remember
long stretches of time in the library, researching, jotting notes,
and just thinking, completely without interruption.
Student life is a lot more real-time these days, heh.
We're aiming for Grand Island, Nebraska tomorrow, but we're not going
to make ourselves nuts about it. There's a lot of unstable weather
on the Great Plains this weekend, and we're not going to try to punch
a hole in a thunderstorm. We'll see.
25, 2006: Headin' for Home, Finally!
Carol and I just got back to Niles with our one-way rental vehicle,
which we will begin stuffing with the guldurndest collection of
things, toss in our suitcases and QBit, and then hit the road for
the 1,040 (est.) mile blast back to Colorado Springs. I've been
here almost five weeks (and Carol almost six) and we're missing
our house, our friends, and (egad) our climate.
It's been nonstop here, and while there were some people I would
have liked to see (especially Chris Gerrib and Mary Ramsden) we
were just too flat out to work everything in. Still, we got Carol's
mom's house (where Carol grew up) cleaned up and mostly presentable
for putting on the market later this fall, ran a huge garage sale,
and still managed to enjoy ourselves from time to time.
I don't know precisely where we're staying on the way home, and
so it's far from clear whether I'll be able to post reports along
the way. Stay tuned. We should be home in a couple of days, and
with any luck at all, Normal Life will again assert itself.
Me, I want to sleep for a weekbut I'll settle for ten hours
in one chunk.
24, 2006: Why Cell Phones Distract
Brook Monroe sent me a thoughtful note asking why talking on a
cell phone is worse than singing with the radio, talking to someone
in the passenger seator screaming insults at talk-show doofus
Michael Savage. I'm not sure that singing along with the radio is
a problem; after all, how much concentration does it take to sing
something operating at the intellectual heights of "Louie,
Louie" or "Santa Baby"? It might take a little concentration
to sing the choral pieces in Beethoven's Ninth, but most Americans
can't sing in German. Now, playing the air guitar while driving
is a problem, but I haven't seen that lately. (I suspect most air
guitarists were scared off by John Candy's air piano performance
at the wheel in Trains, Planes, and Automobiles.)
How about yelling back at Michael Savage? Um...how does listening
(or responding) to Michael Savage involve any more concentration
than singing "Louie, Louie?"
The better question involves talking to a person in the passenger
seat. My answer to that is that the person in the passenger seat
is sharing the trip experience with the driver, and in most cases,
when things get hairy on the road, the passenger knows that to stay
off the bad side of the actuarial tables, it would be better to
shut up for a second and let the driver drive.
Note well that I didn't insist that cell phones be banned in moving
cars. My point was that they are a measurable problem and we need
to be thinking about solutions. Hands-free phones are a very good
idea. I think they're still pretty rare, as I don't recall the last
time I saw one in use. One reason I never operated amateur radio
mobile much is that I was driving a stick most of the time until
1995 and didn't have a spare hand. I shopped for a headset to put
on the rig, but the radio was so old that I would have had to do
some hardware hacking, and that project never percolated to the
top of the list.
In all seriousness, I have a hunch that cell phones are dangerous
in cars because when we whip out a cell phone at the wheel, we fall
into ancient habits formed while we were not at the wheel.
Most of the time, when we're on a phone call (cell or landline)
we're devoting most of our attention to the call. We can devote
our total attention to the call because we're not doing anything
as all-consuming as steering two tons of steel in the midst of hordes
of other maniacs steering two (or more) tons of steel. In shopping
malls and restaurants I've watched people holding a cell handset
in one hand and gesticulating furiously with the other hand; clearly,
some folks are deeply involved in their calls. Transfer this
kind of stationary phone habit into a moving vehicle, and there
could be trouble.
I still hope that using a cell phone while driving a car comes to
be seen as discourteous (nay, boorish) behavior, but I hope for a
lot of unlikely things. If ya gotta do it, get a headset. (And many
thanks to Brook Monroe for being a discussion trigger.)
23, 2006: Odd Lots
- A study I hadn't
seen before gives us strong evidence that people using cell
phones while driving drive more dangerously than .08% drunks.
This certainly maps to my recent experience. As a courtesy to
others, I never make calls while in motion, and always hand the
phone to Carol if it rings while I'm driving. The only calls I
answer while driving are calls received from Carol when I'm alone
in the car, and the calls themselves are always deliberately brief.
- Try as I might, I simply cannot explain this
one. Perhaps one of my Jewish readers can enlighten me.
- A recent spam campaign has targeted me with messages directing
me to "Break out your two-piece bikini!" Sorry, I'm
from Mu Arae. My bikini has five pieces.
- It would be a useful feature in email clients to put up a warning
icon when the links in the message don't match the domain from
which the message came. Nearly all phishes have return addresses
forged from a bank or EBay or other large concern, but links in
the message pointing to domains in Outer Slobovia. Sure, there
are legitimate reasons to do this, but a simple orange icon (meaning
"possible danger; be careful") could be helpful for
- In researching yesterday's entry, I found a fascinating encyclopedic
list of IBM commercial products (some with links to detailed pages)
- In the same vein, Bitsavers
has preserved an immense archive of technical documentation for
obsolete computers of the 1980s and earlier, including a number
of the legendary Xerox research workstations that never became
commercial products, including the Alto, the Dolphin and the Dorado.
Alas, Bitsavers doesn't have any photos of the hardware. For that,
go to DigiBarn. Egad, talk
22, 2006: Happy 50th to the Hard Drive!
Today's Wall Street Journal had a short piece (not online)
by their junior tech guy Lee Gomes on the 50th birthday of the humble
hard drive. Like most computing advances of that era, the hard drive
came out of IBM research, a larger-scale extension of the fixed-head
magnetic disks that served as main memory before the development
of cost-effective solid-state RAM. In 1956, the first commercial
hard drive, RAMAC (Random Access Method of Accounting and Control)
weighed about a ton and stored a total of five megabytes of data
at a storage density of about 2,000 bits per square inch on a 24-inch
magnetic platter. The technology actually allowed more storage than
that, but as Gomes' source at IBM indicates, IBM's marketing people
didn't feel comfortable selling a storage unit with greater capacity.
(Echoes of Esther Dyson's idiotic mantra in 1985 that "ordinary
people don't need the power of a 286. It may find some use in servers."
Truly, the Hedda Hopper of technologyor perhaps the Paris
personally watched hard disk storage evolve starting about 1974,
when as a Xerox repairman I served a number of glass-walled data
centers around Chicago's financial district. I remember cleaning
out a model 3100 copier when an IBM 3333 drive cranked up two or
three inches from my butt, and boy, did I jump or what? The unit
was bigger than an old clothes dryer, and had 200 MB removeable
platter packs (left) that were dropped in from the top. (There's
a nice writeup of early IBM disk storage technology here.)
Later on, I got a job as a programmer at Xerox HQ in upstate New
York. We had a
Xerox Alto in our department, and I actually conned my boss
into ordering a removable drive pack for me so that I could play
with it as time allowed. The first-gen pack stored a staggering
1 MB of data, which seemed like the entire universe at the time.
(There were larger packs available for the unit, but my boss balked
at their higher price.)
I think it was 1981 or 1982 when I first saw a 5 MB Shugart 5"
hard drive at a Xerox technology show. This boggled me even more
than the Alto, because the engineers there had rigged an interface
to a generic CP/M machine, implying that I could have one tooif
only the price would come down.
Eventually it did. I waited until 1986, when the first affordable
20 MB drives appeared, and installed one in my IBM PC. From there
it was the familiar progression of buying a new drive every couple
of years with twice the capacity of the older one. In the early
1990s the jumps began to get radically bigger: I went from a 1988-vintage
40 MB drive to a 100 MB drive in 1991, and from there right to a
1 GB drive around 1994.
I now have 600 GB in my main machine, and have begun to long for
the sorts of vast, solid state computer storage that SF writers
have been predicting for a long time. An 8 GB Flash unit with a
mechanical write protect switch on the back would be a fine thing
to boot our kernels from, and if rootkits become more of a threat,
somebody will have to do that. As early as 1973 I was writing stories
(unpublished) about data storage in huge semiconductor blocks that
were basically grown in a tank like crystals. My 1973 concept was
purely chemical, but with nanotech assemblers (even relatively simple
ones) we could do it in high style. What would we do with 256 yottabyte
I don't know. But you can bet I'd think of something.
21, 2006: The Students' Union
I had an interesting idea this morning while I ran down Harlem
Avenue to White Hen for coffee: What if high-achieving high school
seniors formed a sort of cooperative (I hate to call it a union)
to force colleges to moderate their behavior in certain important
ways? Colleges compete for the best students, so if the best students
got together and agreed to act in concert, interesting things might
For example, let's call such a hypothetical organization SAT1500,
and its membership is limited to college-bound seniors with SAT
numbers over 750 on both sides. With enough of our best seniors
in its ranks, SAT1500 could tell offending colleges, "Kill
campus speech codes, or we'll go to schools that do." Would
I think it might work, for all except maybe the top four or five
schools in the Ivy League. Everybody wants to go to Harvard, even
though its liberal arts schools don't teach much of anything anymore,
so Harvard and Yale might not even notice.
But maybe they will. And when you get down to the low-end Ivies
and everybody else, well, the impact could be enormous. A mature
SAT1500 organization could end the chaos and rank discrimination
of the scholarship dance and ask the colleges: What do you bid
for our top 1,000 students? What do you bid for our next
10,000 students? If SAT1500 grew powerful enough, it might be
able to force schools to admit students without knowing their sex,
race, or ethnicity, information virtually always illegally abused.
Anyway, just a thought. As the Boomer Echo works its way through our
universities and moves on, schools will suddenly realize that the
gravy train has left the station, and competition for students will
become intense, not only at the top but at almost all levels. SAT1500
could find itself with the power to reshape our higher education system
in ways we might call impossible today.
20, 2006: A Month with the Thinkpad X41 Tablet PC
Carol and I are still in the Chicago area, and I've been here just
about a month now, with no computing but my IBM/Lenovo Thinkpad
X41 Tablet PC. (I also have the associated dock, which contains
the optical drive.) I've had abundant opportunity to use the machine
on a daily basis and got good at it, and I think at this point I
am in a position to provide a reasonable critique.
First of all, as a Tablet PC I have no particular complaints. It
makes a superfine e-book reader, and I've been astonished at how
easily I've been able to curl up with longish ebooks and not surface
an hour later feeling like somebody kicked sand in my eyes. That
was a complete surprise, and probably the best single thing about
the unit, especially with its implementation of the MS Reader.
I haven't used Ink all that much, and given that I don't use cursive
handwriting in my daily life, I don't feel like learning it again
just to use it on a single computer. I had a lot of trouble getting
the recognizer to get unusual words right, especially my own name.
(As far as the X41 is concerned, it's owned by Jeff Dustman.) I
would have pursued that issue further, but again, I don't expect
to use the feature a lot and didn't break a sweat fooling with it.
Most of my complaints are not obviously related to the Tablet hardware
and support software, though I have a suspicion that XP Tablet Edition
may be behind some of them. Here's a list:
- Sometimes the task bar just vanishes and won't come back. I
haven't been able to identify a consistent trigger for its vanishing.
I have to reboot to restore it.
- It's rarely good for more than two days before it needs a reboot.
It gets very slow after awhile, and eventually becomes too slow
to use. I've gotten in the habit of turning it off each night,
but Windows 2000 can go lots longer without a reboot.
- The X41 runs at 1.5 GHz, and has 512MB of RAM, However, it's
no faster, and often slower, than my 2001-vintage 750 MHz 128
MB Thinkpad X21 running Win2K.
- Something in the system software blocks mouse events every so
often, making mouse cursor movement jerky and intermittent.
- The keyboard misses keystrokes much more often than the
apparently identical keyboard on my X21.
- Sometimes when it goes into hibernation it takes a long time
coming back, much longer than my X21.
So basically, what I have is a Thinkpad X21 with a swiveling touchscreen
and a touchier keyboard. I know that the additional software features
inevitably eat some cycles, but the X41 is fully twice as fast and
has twice as much memory as the X21, and I would expect it to feel
a lot snappier than it does. (I use the identical versions of all
applications on both laptops.)
So overall, it's a cautious "recommended." As more software
becomes available using the Tablet features, I will probably come
to appreciate it more. I might not be as critical had I not used and
loved the X21 for so long. (I still have it, and I don't think it's
going anywhere anytime soon.) My main problems on this trip have stemmed
not from limited compute power but from limited (or nonexistent) connectivity.
Given the time I've been here, I'd say it's done more than well enough
for something so small and so light.
19, 2006: Odd Lots
- Finalization of the IEEE 802.11n standard 100-Base T equivalent
not happen until 2008. It's not an easy technology to make
mass-produceable, and the vendors (predictably) are arguing over
whose pet technologies will become most or all of the standard.
These fights happened with Wireless-G, and that technology was
a cakewalk by comparison. There are "pre-n" products
out there now, but the longer the standards process takes, the
more likely these products are to be orphans once the real thing
happens. For an in-house network that may be an acceptable compromise;
for hotspots and large-scale networks that's a showstopper.
- My entry on the death of SF anthologies generated a fair bit
of commentary (you can see some of it on my LiveJournal mirror)
and it occurred to me that most of what died were what we called
"themed anthologies;" that is, Great Science Fiction
About Giant Lobsters. The best-of anthologies changed shape
radically in the 1960s, in response to something called the
New Wave, which consisted of a handful of very talented writers
doing interesting things surrounded by a reeking cloud of talentless
poseurs barfing into their typewriters and calling it "experimental."
The whole field lost its bearings for awhile, but by the late
1980s we were back in the groove, and the best-of anthologies,
at least, are doing well. Cause and effect are hard to pin down
in this case, but I think that the sea-change of reader preference
toward novels during the 1970s permanently shrank the market for
short SF. (Thanks to John Hall for reminding me of this.) This
all worth thinking about, and I should be able to mount a whole
entry on it shortly.
- Jim Strickland suggested that the JonBenet Creepies may simply
be another manifestation of the Uncanny Valley, in that her folks
made JonBenet look almost like a woman. That sounds pretty
reasonable to me.
- Years and years ago, I registered the domain hardsf.com. I never
mounted it, but lately I've been thinking about what might be
useful on a site with that name. What I want all you hard SF freaks
in my audience to do is jot down a wish list for hardsf.com and
send it to me. I'm going to start with a forum, and would like
to mount some sort of store for downloadable documents, but it's
a long-horizon project and I'm open to any and all suggestions.
18, 2006: JonBenet and the Other Taboo
The Jon Benet Ramsey case has always given me the creeps, and I'm
already switching the channel as soon as yet another talking head
decides to talk about a case about which nothing can really be said
at this point. Crackpots are always confessing to crimes they did
not commit, and John Karr does not give the impression of
foundational sanity. So to me it still looks wide open.
The TV stations are again playing the same short videos of poor
Jon Benet that weirded me out ten years ago. A 6-year-old dressed
up and made up like a Las Vegas showgirl is a creepy thing to see
(some who are less charitable than I have called it "sick")
and I'm pretty sure that all those who assumed at the outset that
the girl's parents killed her are responding to that same creepy
So why is it creepy?
I had an insight last night while the damned videos were played
yet again on CNN: The feeling is related to the incest taboo. I
think that there is a primal aversion in most human beings to seeing
very young girls as sexually attractive. The evolutionary mechanism
is pretty obvious: There's no possibility of gene transmission through
pre-pubescent girls, and real danger of damage to their undeveloped
I am by no means a prude, but the sexualization of very young girls
bothers me a great deal. Jon Benet is not the only little girl who
has been turned into a sexual icon by knucklehead parents, but she's
certainly the only one who ever got this much publicity. I still
don't believe that her parents actually committed the murder, but
I think the cultural gestalt holds that they were in a sense accomplices.
Let's let the justice system takes it course, and could we puh-leez
stop showing those stupid videos?
16, 2006: Where the Anthologies Went
My first experience with adult SF was not through the magazines
(which cost money) but through multiauthor hardcover anthologies,
which were abundant at the Carl Roden branch of the Chicago Public
Library in the 1960s. There I found anthologies like Kingsley Amis'
Spectrum series (of which there were at least five) and several
from Groff Conklin, including the superb Elsewhere and Elsewhen
and Great Science Fiction By Scientists. Much of the SF I
read in the Sixties was in original and reprint anthologies. By
1977 or so, that market was just about extinct. I had a story in
the original anthology Alien Encounters in 1982, and as best
I know the book sold about 150 copies. Dead, Jim.
So what happened? Some explain it as a sort of tulip mania engineered
by an anthologist named Roger Elwood. I was completely outside the
SF world (I didn't even know that there was an SF world)
until I attended the Clarion SF Writers' Workshop in July 1973.
One of (many) running jokes there was selling a story to Roger Elwood.
Elwood had come out of the wrestling magazines in the Sixties, and
as the Sixties wound down he began aggressively selling original
SF anthologies to any publisher who would listen. By 1973, Elwood
had come to represent (by some measures) a quarter or more of the
market for short SF and fantasy. He had edited at least fifty such
books (and probably more) in the space of three or four years.
Some of his books were circulating at Clarion, and they truly were
awful. He typically found one story by a name author, and padded
it out with fifteen stories from people whom no one had ever seen
before. (I think he might have learned that trick from rock music
albums.) The publishers took a bath on his books, and the anthology
market has never come back to where it was in the early Seventies.
You can read
about it in Wikipedia. I think it's fair to ask, though, if
Elwood were a cause or an effect. Without buyers, there are no sellers.
The publishers, first of all, should have known better than to buy
so many books by one man. The fact that they hadn't heard on the
SF grapevine that Elwood was carpet bombing the field with original
anthologies suggests that the publishers at that time had no hooks
whatsoever into the SF grapevine, which may mean that many of the
publishers had frontline editors who were new to SF and had no idea
who was who. Not knowing the field you're targeting is quick and
unpleasant death in publishing.
I also think that publishers were no longer in touch with their
readership. Elwood's awful anthologies were not the first. Judith
Merrill published a long-running anthology series that she immodestly
called The Year's Best SF, which at least when I was reading
them (late 1960s and early 70s) had virtually nothing in them I
would call SF with a straight face. Many of the items she published
were not even stories as I define them, and yet by every account
I've seen they sold well. (I don't know who bought them. I got them
from the library, and none of my friends would touch them.) Merrill
was the early archetype of the aggressive, combative lefty feminist
academicshe was one of the most unpleasant people I have ever
metand her later anthologies were probably aimed at an audience
utterly different from the one most of us geeky boys belonged to
in that era.
I think that when SF began to appeal to people outside that geeky
SF culture, the publishers got deeply confused about what was SF
(and what was good SF) and what was not. Basically, in the
early 1970s, SF left the ghetto but forgot its compass, and the
anthologies, at least, never found their way home. Elwood simply
exploited publisher confusion, and if it hadn't been him, it would
have been someone else.
I have occasional hopes that print-on-demand manufacturing and
integrated book fulfillment services like Lulu will bring some life
back to the anthology market. But beyond paper, there's the possibility
of creating what amount to self-assembling anthologies from individual
file-based stories and commentaries, gathered by tag or keyword
(SELECT ALL Jeff Duntemann's SHORT STORIES TAGGED AS "AI")
and paid for by algorithm, probably through a descendent of the
simple gumball machine ebook server I described earlier this year.
(Read my week-long series beginning May
7, 2006.) People could create anthologies by selecting the fifteen
highest-rated stories offered by a gumball newsstand, or the twenty
shortest (for a quick plane ride) or all stories containing robots
named "Joe." The newsstand would bind the selected items
into a single reader file of the purchaser's chosen format, and
shazam! There's an anthology the world has never seen.
Could happen. The tech is there. Who's gonna try it?
15, 2006: Uncle Jeff Beats the House
Yesterday was my younger nephew Matt's 21st birthday, and one of
his birthday wishes was to go down to the Grand
Victoria Casino in Elgin and try some gambling now that he was
really and truly an adult. I'm not a gambler in any sense of the
word, but I enjoy visiting interesting places and seeing interesting
technologies. I used to attend the big Comdex computer trade show
in Las Vegas every year, starting in 1985 until it began to peter
out in the mid-90s as the computer industry broke down into countless
tech specialties, each with its own "big" trade show.
I dropped a few quarters in the slot machines and a few hard-to-describe
mechanical coin games like Flip-It,
and actually won $40 once, in (I think) 1991. At that point I stopped,
so I could say that I walked away from Vegas with more in my pocket
than when I arrived.
So the whole family drove down to Elgin, and we older folks spent
a couple of hours playing the machines in the no-smoking areas on
the lower level while the boys (both now fully of age) tried their
hand at roulette on the smoky main floor. It was a peculiar experience
in a lot of ways. First of all, they're not "slot machines"
anymore, because they don't use coins and there's no slot. Secondly,
only a few machines remain "one-armed bandits" because
the arm is gone as well, replaced by a simple button. Only a handful
of older machines have any moving mechanical parts at all. What
remain are video games that are nominally slot machines because
they play like slot machines: Several vertical rows of symbols on
a screen are scrambled and come to rest in (maybe) random positions.
If certain predefined sequences of symbols come up, you win a few
credits, where the credits are typically worth 5 cents.
I vividly recall the distinctive racket made by quarters and larger
coins spilling out of Las Vegas slots into stainless steel trays
that seemed designed to resonate so that you could hear them a block
away. In crowded casinos the sound was ever-present, hammering home
the point that somewhere, somebody was winning every second of every
day. All gone now: The machines at Grand Victoria are fully digital.
Each machine can suck in currency notes from $1 to $100. (I was
a little surprised that the track gambler's favorite, the $2 bill,
is not accepted by the machines.) You buy credits with cash and
gamble with them, and when you decide to cash out, the machine spits
out a bar-coded voucher that you exchange for cash at the cage.
The machines do make some noise when you score a win, but the overall
impression was muted and not especially festive. One of the machines
I tried very briefly was called Cleopatra, and a supremely irritating
woman's voice said "I'm so proud of you!" every
time I won as little as thirty cents. As if I had anything to do
Moody, I don't hold with furniture that talks, so I left Cleopatra
as soon as my $5 worth of credits was gone. Carol and I wandered
down the row to a similar machine named Louie's Gold. Louie was
a bug-eyed cartoon coyote with a Mexican bandito mustache, and the
symbols included money bags, a chihuhua, and an adobe building labeled
"El Banco." Cleo had eaten my sole fiver, so I fed Louie
a ten and started pushing buttons. I played for about five minutes,
trying to figure out what the hell had happened each time the machine
told me I had won. I was down to about eighty credits when pandemonium
erupted, animated coins flying all over the display while Louie
appeared in several places, riding his horse and blasting his twin
six-guns. I had clearly won, though I never quite discerned what
the winning symbol combo was. Carol and I watched slackjawed as
the music played and the credit counter went up...and up...and up.
5,000 credits. $250.00. Yikes.
no gambler. The temptations I'm vulnerable to lie elsewhere. It
took as much as several microseconds for me to yell, "I'm out!"
and punch the voucher button. I walked out of Grand Victoria $225
dollars ahead of the house.
Interestingly, I had Uncle Louie's Lucky Dollar in
my pocket at the time, as I almost always do. It's a 1972 copper-nickel
Eisenhower dollar that Uncle Louie gave my Aunt Kathleen as a good-luck
piece somewhere along the way. Both were unmarried, and as children
Gretchen and I often hoped they would become a couple. It wasn't
until we were adults that we fully understood how completely peculiar
a coupling that would have been...
After Aunt Kathleen died in 1999, the coin came to me. (I keep
it in my pocket as an experiment to see how long it takes for the
design on a copper-nickel coin to wear away in daily service. After
seven years of jingling the eagle's face is gone, as is most of
Ike's hair, but it's still a handsome coin.) I don't believe in
luck, but the coin is a memento of two people I loved very much,
and if there's any luck involved it lay in my being the target of
their affection for so many years.
So with Uncle Louie's Lucky Dollar in my pocket, the Louie's Gold
slotless slot machine paid off. As we walked out of the casino,
Carol laughed and said, "I guess he's still out there somewhere."
Of course he is. As Uncle Louie himself would have said, "Hey,
I'm around! Whatcha need?"
13, 2006: Harnessing the Long Tail in Comics
rarely bought 45s when I was a kid, simply because the math was
all wrong. If you waited awhile, your favorite band would issue
a Greatest Hits album (sometimes after as many as...two hits) and
you'd have 'em all for about half of what you'd pay for the best
songs on 45. You'd also get a lot of album cuts, at least a few
of which would turn out to be serviceable songs. (This may have
been truer then than now.)
Far from ignoring the idea of the Long Tail, a lot of music and
print publishers are re-issuing anthologies of material that last
saw the light of day in the 60s or before. Virtually all of The
Association's vinyl is now out on CD, and I've grabbed albums from
numerous other obscure bands of that era, like the New Colony Six
and the Cryan Shames.
As best I can tell, the comics publishers have been doing this
longer than almost any other segment of Big Media. DC in particular
is putting out hardcover anthologies not only of their big winners,
but also their experiments and perhaps some of their failures. My
brother-in-law Bill Roper's library is heavy with DC hardcovers,
some of which I've flipped through. The repro is at least as good
as the original comics, and the paper way better. It's a
little like getting The Association on CDyour dull phonograph
needle will never carve out your high frequencies as fuzz, and your
comics will not crumble to pulpy dust after a year or two in that
pile under your bed. Another advantage is that you don't have to
see all those stupid ads for Palisades Park (where the hell was
that? we Chicago boys used to wonder) and packages of hundreds
of uniformly green plastic soldiers.
I was never a big comics consumer, but Bill lent me the recent
anthology, and it was wild to see the only comics I ever really
bought live again. I followed the series briefly in the early-mid-60s
(it went on long after that) and it was sort of an adventure/sitcom/soap
opera starring an ensemble of six robots and their scientist creator,
who today looks disconcertingly like SubGenius icon J.
R. "Bob" Dobbs. The robots were named for and showcased
the physical characteristics of their component metals. Alas, the
stories were juvenile (talk about understanding your audience!)
and full of chemistry bloopers; for example, a frame in which Tin
is grasped by a magnet, or in which Lead patiently explains (while
he knits some broken high-voltage wiring) that he is a non-conductor.
(Clearly, DC's story people had never built a Heathkit.)
But hey, they're comics, right? The important thing is that we
can now treat older content as entertainment and not fragile relics
fought over by collectors. It's not cheapthe DC anthologies
cost about $35 eachbut as with vinyl reissued on CD, the goods
are actually better than they were the first time through.
I think the Long Tail works for comics in this fashion because books
like this are sold primarily in comics shops, which are a highly focused
retail channel compared to conventional bookstores. I doubt they'd
do as well if they were sold only online. Discovery is still the
problem confronting long-tail content. I would not have thought to
look for a Metal Men anthology, but I knew somebody who did.
If we can solve this problem, we've got the whole business licked,
but the problem may not be solvable, at least not to the degree we'd
like. We'll see.
12, 2006: Neanderthal Uncanniness
It would be interesting to see some research on whether women experience
the "uncanny reaction" (see my entry for July
11, 2006) more than men do. If so, it would affirm a hunch I
had the other day while pulling weeds. (I pull weeds because I get
ideas when I pull weeds.)
The book The Red Queen makes the point very strongly that
while men evolved to want a lot of offspring, women evolved to want
better offspring. A woman can only carry a few children to
term in her lifetime (especially before modern medicine and sanitation)
whereas men can impregnant thousands of women in the same span of
time. Women are thus much choosier about whom they couple with.
Now consider this: Back 40,000 or so years ago, there were several
close hominid species wandering around the Earth at the same time.
(We wiped all the others out by about 15,00 years ago.) We've seen
how it's possible to have interspecies crosses (the mule/hinny
for example) but the offspring of those crosses, even where the
individuals are viable and long-lived, are almost always sterile.
A hominid female who mated with a homind male of a close but distinct
species might become pregnant, but would be carrying a child that
would almost certainly grow up sterile. Such a child is a genetic
dead-end, and such dead-ends are something that is evolution's job
to eliminate as much as possible.
So...what if evolution developed a sense in early humans that gave
them mild creepies when dealing with individuals of a species close
to but not identical to their own? The idea is to highlight the
distinctness of related species, by triggering a special reaction
when an individual encounters a face that is real close but not...quite...right.
This would make it less likely that a female would mate with a male
of another species and risk carrying and raising a sterile child.
Just a thought while weeding; I have no research to cite. I've now
pulled just about all the weeds in Carol's mom's lawn, so there may
be no more good ideas until I get back home and attack this past month's
thistle crop. However, since I haven't gone after it for almost a
month now, you should expect some really good ideas once I fill the
weed can back in the Springs.
11, 2006: A Successful Attack
I think everybody should swallow hard and accept the fact that
yesterday's supposedly aborted attack on our air transport system
was actually a complete success. The fact that nothing and no one
were blown up is irrelevant. The terrorists aren't trying to blow
up aircraftwhat they're doing is forcing
authorities to make air travel so completely unpleasant that
traffic drops below a level that will sustain the airlines. Without
ubiquitous air travel, our economy would suffer in ways both obvious
There's really no way we can reliably win this one, short of forbidding
all carryons and strip- and cavity searching every passenger. It
wouldn't take much of a modern explosive to cause dozens of deaths
in an airliner cabin, even if the craft itself maintained function
and structural integrity and landed intact. (Does anybody remember
Aloha Airlines plane that lost a good part of its upper fuselage
somewhere over the Pacific? A flight attendant was sucked out of
the cabin and killed, but the craft landed safely with only a few
passengers suffering major injury and no additional deaths. Airliners
are tough.) There's plenty of room inside things as small as IPods
for lethal quantities of explosive. A laptop battery could be hacked
to become half battery and half explosive, and the battery could
still source enough current to start the device for skeptical security
inspectors. An air trip could eventually become a hundred people
in airline-supplied Kevlar gowns tied into their seats. A few folks
might be willing to do that. I wouldn't.
And truthfully, even that might not be enough. I read an article
once about things that ER surgeons have had to remove from the rectums
of sexually peculiar people. There's plenty of room in there for
a sausage casing full of plastique, which would most likely show
up on X-rays as indistinguishable from nature waiting to take its
course. A suicide bomber wouldn't even necessarily have to, um,
excrete the device before detonating it.
What to do? I'd like to see us bring back large-scale rail travel,
even if we have to figure out a system of subsidies to keep the
lightly used routes runningbut I admit that I'm dreaming here;
such a plan would take a decade or more to become effective, and
we have the problem right now. Besides, rails won't help with travel
from overseas, where most of the danger probably lies.
Carol and I were going to fly back to Colorado Springs some time next
week, but at this point we suspect we're going to rent a car one-waya
minivan, if I can find oneand drive home with QBit and some
family heirlooms in the back seat. The era of cheap fares and easy
air travel may be over. We were going to fly to the Cayman Islands
for our 30th wedding anniversary in October. We may end up driving
to Florida instead. So it goes.
10, 2006: Odd Lots
- In releasing free editions of the upcoming Turbo language products,
Borland may be hoping to noodge people with six or seven year
old copies of Delphi to upgrade. Many people stopped upgrading
when Delphi 7 appeared, because the version got such bad press.
I know a fair number of people still using Delphi 5 and 6, and
even one guy with Delphi 4. If the new versions are really good,
they may drive at least a few upgrades, and that's all to the
good if we want Borland (and by that I mean the new fork of the
company that we'll see this fall) to stay alive.
- Andrew Stuart sent me a pointer to BookMooch,
a site that coordinates the passing around (rather than the selling)
of used books. I haven't tried it yet, but it's an obvious thing
to do. It's a point-driven system with an elaborate set of rules
for how you earn points, and it will take some time and experience
to see if this will actually work. (The idea is to give people
incentives to send out books rather than only receive them.) I'm
going to give it a shot when I get home (where all my stacks of
used books are) and will report back in this space.
- My spam count has very abruptly soared to about 200 per day,
from a previous average of 80-100. I get the impression that some
spammer somewhere has passed a list of pre-resolved email addresses
(that is, resolved to IPs) through DNS to "freshen"
it. My spam count dropped by almost 80% when I changed hosting
services a couple of years ago, probably due to spammers using
preresolved lists of addresses in which my address pointed to
the old hosting service.
- Another note on spam: The majority of messages I get from spam
zombies (rather than spammers like GossipFlash that own their
own domains) now carry their payload messages as images. The change
came fairly quickly, and this suggests that most of our spam comes
from a relatively small number of botnets. Teergrubing
(slowing down the rate at which SMTP servers accept connections)
might help us, but I don't hear much about anyone doing it.
9, 2006: Odd Lots
- I had not yet learned when I wrote yesterday's entry on the
new Borland Turbo products, that only one single-language package
will be installable on a single PCthe assumption being that
anybody who needs more than one language should buy the "big"
package with all the languages built-in. This doesn't bother me
much, but I wonder if they've taken into account that a lot of
programmers (me included) write code only in VMsand VM snapshots
- I'm still in Chicago, and have been struggling to get DSL working
here in the basement of Carol's mom's house. I finally figured
it out this morning, having been on the phone with SBC's poor
support techs for far too long: The &#*!?! browser-based
installation script is IE-specific!! (I was Firefoxing my
way through it and getting nowhere.) Worse, only the third tech
knew this. Executed under Firefox, the screwball script was invisibly
and silently skipping key parts of the process, and landed me
more than once at a screen breathlessly but falsely announcing,
"You are now connected to the Internet!" I'm glad I
lost my hair early. Male-pattern baldness is way less painful
than ripping it out in chunks.
- Here's one of those bits of "What the hell is going
on here?" trivia: Austria has the highest suicide rate of
any Western country, at 35.5 per 100,000 people. The US rate is
a little more than half that, at 18.9. More grim stats here.
- A guy has built a
very reasonable facsimile of the Segway balancing scooter.
The main difference is that it has no safety features: If something
fails in the system, you go forward on your nose with the control
box in your crotch. I find the idea of a balancing system fascinating,
and if time ever allows I'd like to build something like this,
less as a scooter than as a robot. My old Cosmo
Klein robot was a wonderful crowd pleaser, and it would be
very cool to have a 2-wheel balancing robot to run around. Such
balancing robots have gotten pretty popular. A nice seminar slide
show on the topic is here,
and a typical robot (with software written in Delphi!) is here.
Oh, for a forty-hour day...
8, 2006: Turbo Delphi!
Yeehah! Turbo returns! I got a call from Borland's David Intersimone
late last week, and we spoke for quite awhile, certainly at more
length than we have in ten or twelve years. The big news is that
Borland is introducing a line of new, single-language, single-platform
IDE/compiler packages under the Turbo brand:
- Turbo Delphi for Win32
- Turbo Delphi for .NET
- Turbo C++
- Turbo C#
Each package will list for under $500, with student pricing under
This would be very cool all by itself, but the wilder part of the
announcement is that each of the four products will also be available
as a free download, under the Turbo Explorer moniker. The Explorer
editions are the full product with one limitation: The component
palette is fixed, and additional components cannot be installed.
Nonetheless, the palette supplied with the Turbo Explorer editions
contains over 200 components, including WebSnap, the Indy Internet
components, and virtually all the others that Delphi developers
are used to seeing. That's a helluva deal, hehespecially for
people who program for fun, or who write relatively simple utilities
to massage data or support their work in other ways.
Borland has set up a Web site specifically for the Explorer editions,
Both the Professional Editions and the Explorer Editions will be
available before the end of Q3 of this year. They're working with
schools to get the Turbo languages onto the curriculum (especially
Turbo C#) and will be encouraging publishers to bring out new books
focusing on the Turbo products. (Am I working on one? Can't tell
you yet...but wouldn't it be wild to have The Turbo Delphi Explorer
I also asked David about the spinoff of the developer tools products
into a new company distinct from Borland. The process is moving
along, and we should know more by early fall. Everybody involved
is chomping at the bit, since it's by now pretty clear that Delphi,
C++, and C# are only the first Turbo languages, and will not be
the last. David didn't get real specific, but he asked me what languages
I would want to see added to the Turbo lineup. My first choice would
be PHP, and my second...assembly, both Win32 and .NET. We'll see
what they do.
If you asked me what this was going to do to Borland, or programming
generally, my first reaction would simply be: It's gonna make programming
fun again, in a way it hasn't been in what seems like a very
long time. Back in the mid-1980s, anybody who had $50 could have
Turbo Pascal, and we all had a marvelous time, even without the
Internet. People who wouldn't have taken a shot at programming if
the cost of entry were $400 were tinkering up interesting little
things, having fun, and learning a lot. Twenty years later, dare
we hope that we can do it again?
I do. Put Delphi in the hands of tends of thousands of bright kids
(even middle aged ones) and magic will happen. This time, the wand
is free. (I may finally learn C#!)
6, 2006: VM Images as OS Distribution Media
I test operating systems by installing them as VMs under VMWare
Workstation 5. It occurs to me that it would be mighty handy if
distro managers would issue preinstalled VM images for download,
so that I don't have to fool with installing the OS in a VM from
CDs or ISOs. Moving VM images among machines is trivial, and I keep
an archive of images on ice on my monster hard drive, and even if
I never need them again, they're small enough so that there's no
hesitation about keeping them around, JIC.
It's not always obvious how to install an arbitrary OS in a VM, so
this would push the research back to the originator of the distro,
who knows the OS better than anybody who might want to try it. Beyond
own directory, I suspect this is being done here and there, and
I'll report on sources of prebuilt VM OS images as I find them. In
the meantime, if you know of any odd ones (where "odd" means
"non-Unix") do point me to them.
5, 2006: The Pareidolian Cowboy
has a small backpack that she uses as a purse when we're out on
a trip and she carries additional stuff with her (AAA Guide, small
binoculars, and so on) and it was lying on a Tupperware bin this
morning when I came in from walking QBit. I tossed my hart down
on top of the backpack, just to put it somewhere. Later on, when
I went back to get my hat, I realized that I was looking at a grumpy
old cowboy with a broken nose and skin so exposed to the desert
sun that it had turned to...leather.
We are really, really good at seeing patterns in things,
and faces are what we're best at seeing. This follows what I have
been reading in several books I've dipped into recently on the evolution
of the human creature: We are optimized to recognizes faces and
to gossip, especially about relationships, changes in status, and
who's having sex with whom. In fact, the author of The Red Queen
argues that our brains exploded in size all those tens of thousands
of years ago specifically because gossiping carried an evolutionary
advantage, and gossip needs language as an efficient communications
medium. So while other authors (Pinker, especially) have speculated
that language was the cause of our brain explosion, I haven't seen
any other explanations as to why language suddenly appeared
with such force on the human scene. It was so that we could gossip.
Alas, I have been meaning to review The Red Queen for some
time, but I left the book in Colorado. Remind me to treat it fully
once I get home; it's the best book I've read since The War on
4, 2006: The Windows Doomsday Switch
ZDNet's Ed Bott posted a
scary article indicating that Microsoft may well implement a
"doomsday switch" on Windows this fall. The details are
unclear, but the gist of it is that WGA will be made mandatory,
and if people refuse to install it (you can opt out of WGA now if
you want) MS can flip the Doomsday Switch, and after 30 more days,
your copy of Windows will croak.
An MS support rep is reported to have said this:
"In the fall, having
the latest WGA will become mandatory and if it's not installed,
Windows will give a 30 day warning and when the 30 days is up
and WGA isn't installed, Windows will stop working, so you might
as well install WGA now."
The funny part about this (and even Bott doesn't mention it) is
that this implies that the switch is in there already. If
this is true, it will be interesting to see what module the switch
is in, and when it was implemented. I'd guess the very first update
The whole thing leaves me a little aghast, and while it's always
possible that reports like this are hoaxes spread to discredit Microsoft,
I was similarly skeptical that they could implement WPA and make
it stick. They did.
Bott provides examples of WGA not working correctly and shutting
down legitimate Windows instances, and I've seen incidents like
that mentioned elsewhere. This implies that we're getting to the
point where the risk of not installing Microsoft's security updates
is being outweighed by the risks of trusting a piece of Microsoft
code that can shut down your computer.
The Triple Entente of having a software firewall, being behind
a router, and not using IE are actually pretty strong protection
against Windows security exploits, along with good Internet habits
like not surfing porn sites or installing warez. If you're running
Windows in a VM snapshot, you have the further defense that if the
bad guys get to you somehow, you simply shut down the compromised
snapshot and launch another. Skipping Windows updates is not the
end of the world, especially now that the updates themselves are
gradually becoming indistinguishable from the malware they're supposedly
defending us against.
I'm not sure what's going to happen this fall, but with Steve Ballmer
basically running things up there, nothing is beyond imagining.
I had dinner with him once, back in 1986, along with the rest of
the staff at PC Tech Journal. He's the quintessential Right
Man. Annoying customers is much less important here than getting
his way, and nothing annoys Right Men more than the suspicion that
somewhere, somebody might be ripping them off.
I sure wish they'd hurry up with ReactOS.
3, 2006: Certified Uninstallable "Without a Trace"
Every so often I come up with a business opportunity that I have
no interest of pursuing on my own, and today's actually has some
promise: An independent software testing service that issues a logo
certification for an application that performs, by default, a complete
uninstallation. For the base certification ("Without a Trace
Bronze") an application's uninstaller would have to do the
- Remove all installed program files, DLLs, and other installed
files of any kind
- Reverse all registry and other system changes
- Delete all desktop icons and menu items
- Move all user data to a separate directory of the user's choice
- Delete the app's directory tree
For the intermediate level certification ("Without a Trace
Silver") the application would have to satisfy all the Bronze-level
requirements, along with additional requirements we might characterize
as "good behavior" from the time of install:
- It cannot install DLLs in windows\system or anywhere else but
in its own directory tree
- It cannot write registry entries for file history, block lists
(e.g., Outlook Express) or other trivial things.
- It cannot update Windows runtimes or libraries; if it needs
runtimes of a specified version level or other Windows libraries,
it can only issue a recommendation to the user to go get the libraries
and install them separately.
The rationale for the Silver level is this: Certain actions are
hard to reverse once done, so the only way to make sure that they
can be completely reversed is to guarantee that they are never done
to begin with. Writing DLLs to windows\system is the core cause
of "DLL hell" and should never, but never be done.
Namespace collisions are forever. One of the leading causes
of Windows Registry gunk is moronic applications that keep their
"most recently saved" file lists and other stuff in the
Registry. All that belongs in files in the app's own directory tree.
Putting them in the Registry is borderline criminal user abuse.
I'd actually like to see the Silver level specify that an app cannot
change the Registry at all. I don't think there's ever a
genuine reason for this; my opinion is that the Registry belongs
to Windows alone and should not be writeable by applications and
utilities. On the other hand, I may not fully understand all possible
needs so for now I'll give apps the benefit of the doubt.
The "Without a Trace Gold" level would require that the
application not send information about itself anywhere outside the
- It cannot "phone home" to its vendor for any reason
unless explicitly told by the user to do so, and cannot pop up
a nag window to demand permission to phone home.
- It cannot make such "phoning home" a requirement for
use of the application or for any feature within the application.
- Any online update technology must not be able to uniquely identify
the PC being updated.
- It must either store its user data (documents, drawings, etc.)
in a nonproprietary format, or else export its data to a nonproprietary
format during uninstallation without any loss of precision or
Obviously, products requiring activation are by definition ineligible
for Gold. The requirements have to be stated carefully for communications
apps that have to log into a server to do their jobs (Skype and
Gizmo are good examples) but I think we could figure that out.
The final bullet requirement will prevent the ghost of a vanished
app from haunting user data. Users create their data, and in my
view that data belongs to them. When an app is uninstalled, any
data created with it must be available in a publicly documented
format so that it may be imported into another app. Otherwise, the
original app never really "goes away."
Testing apps is straightforward, and would make good use of bit-compare
utilities or even virtual machines. I'm not sure how true this is
(it depends on the underlying implementation of the VM) but if you
take a VM snapshot pre-install, post-install, and then post-uninstall,
the pre-install and post-uninstall snapshots should ideally be identical,
or mighty close. Even without VMs, it's not rocket science
to determine if the registry's been changed, or if there are files
or directories in a directory tree that weren't there before the
app went in. Determining if an app phones home can be done with
packet capture utilities like Ethereal, and while it takes some
patience and some gruntwork analyzing packets, again, it's not bleeding-edge
Logo certification programs make money by charging for the service,
and issuing the right to display the logo for products that pass
all tests. Of course, a good part of such a startup would be flogging
the PR trail and making a case that much Windows misfeasance is
due to bad design, sloppy programming, and incomplete or incompetent
uninstallers. The emphasis should always be on keeping the end user's
PCs from accumulating damage from incompetent or aggressive code,
including the sort of borderline adware I see from time to time
in what claim to be legitimate apps. Gold level certification is
mostly about code committing privacy violation, and should be pitched
that way. Personal data sent outside the local network is a trace
that you can never be certain is deleted, so you simply can't allow
an app to send personal data to begin with.
Prior to launch, the startup should work closely with vendors known
to be sympathetic (which would probably include most open source
projects) so that it hits the ground running with a long list of
I don't know if such a startup could make a lot of money, but implemented
well, it could make at least some money, and if it takes off in a
big way could be a serious force in the gunk wars. I don't think things
like this fall within my core competence, so I myself won't do itbut
if it ever happens, you can bet I will push it hard.
2, 2006: The Uncanniness of Racism
Whoa. In a
tossed-off short comment on LiveJournal, LJ user madfilkentist
(Gary McGath) offered up a riveting speculation: That the "uncanny
valley" effect could explain racism. Something in me immediately
responded, "Of course!" Brilliant insight.
In a sense, it's obvious: We consider "uncanny" something
that generates cognitive dissonance in us where that cognitive dissonance
involves deep mental mechanisms. Animated faces that begin to look
human to us while remaining clearly nonhuman generate the "uncanny"
response. I think that's why wax museums are mostly creepshows:
The weird content reinforces our uncanny response to the almost-human
wax figures and makes the exhibit as a whole weirdly and preverbally
So do the thought experiment with me: You're an Englishman in the
early 1500s, standing on the docks looking at a captive Black African
brought back on a sailing ship from the mysterious, faraway continent.
From a height, the being looks human: He has arms, legs, eyes, ears,
and so on, in all the right places. But his skin is a startling
deep purple-brown that borders on black, and his facial features
are distinct from English facial features in several subtle but
significant ways. Nothing like this has ever been seen in your part
of England. What would your reaction be?
As best we know, the uncanny reaction is a side effect of the very
ancient mechanism that allows us to recognize faces instantly. A
face that registers on the extremes of non-recognition might begin
to generate a feeling that this face is not quite human,
and therefore potentially dangerous in unforseeable ways. (Think
of it as a computer program throwing an exception for a value that
is not only outside the bounds of a well-defined test, but in various
ways untestable; e.g, un-normal or imaginary numeric values.)
Uncanniness is not a positive reaction, and it would be easy
for an untraveled, superstitious person to translate that uncanny
reaction to fear and perhaps further to aggression and hatred.
I suspect that Blacks may confront the same uncanny reaction when
in the presence of whites. It may explain, at least partially, why
our races mix so poorly and suspicion among races remains so prevalent,
even when socioeconomic status is held constant. Middle-class Blacks
don't socialize that much with middle-class whites, and so on. We
may be able to learn to recognize the uncanny reaction and choose
not to act on it, but can we ever somehow banish the reaction entirely?
Deep feelings are very difficult to defuse; think sexual jealousy.
Racism may be a tougher challenge than any of us are willing to admit.
1, 2006: Sequestering Carbon in Odd Places
We've released a great deal of CO2 into the atmosphere in the last
100-odd years, and although it may not account for all of the bizarre
weather we've seen in recent yearslivestock methane and small
changes in the Sun's luminosity almost certainly have some effectCO2
is the biggie. We've actually begun to talk about deliberately sequestering
carbon somewhere other than the atmosphere.
Some of these plans strike me as ridiculous, like
a recent Japanese proposal to pump CO2 and store it under pressure
underground. Besides being a health risk far worse than a nuclear
meltdown (a sudden eruption of massive amounts of CO2 turned loose
by an earthquake could quickly asphyxiate tens or hundreds of thousands
of people) pumping the stuff underground takes energy, and with
only a few exceptions, industrial quantities of energy come from
oxidizing carbon. Duhh!
Others strike me as extremely promising, like salting the southern
Pacific Ocean with trace amounts (50 parts per trillion)
of iron. That part of the ocean is deficient in iron compared to
much of the rest of our ocean area, and certain types of diatoms
with calciferous bodies breed only slowly there. With only a little
more iron in the water, the diatoms reproduce furiously, die, and
sink to the ocean bottom, carrying a certain amount of calcium carbonate
with them. The chemical leverage is apparently enormous: A few gallons
of iron salts can trigger the sequestrationusing purely solar
power and no altered living organismsof hundreds of tons of
has been tested, and I think the opposition from environmentalists
stems from the fact that it seems to have no downside and would
allow our carbon orgy to continue. (If the ecophonies would quit
opposing nuclear and hydro, we might actually make some progress
without any help from the poor diatoms.)
Without thinking of it as such, we've actually been sequestering
major amounts of carbon for a long time, in a number of odd places.
The vast majority of materials buried in landfills contain carbon,
and even backing out the plastics (which do not pull CO2 from the
air) the amount of paper, grass clippings, and food scraps is immense,
and apparently does not decompose very quickly when buried properly.
Another place is in housing. Virtually all new detached housing
these days uses wood frame construction. (Chicago-style fired clay
bricks are energy-intensive and expensive, and are actually an artifact
of cheap natural gas energy in the middle decades of the 20th century.)
Houses stand for a long time, and when they are razed, the debris
is generally buried.
We now have almost
as many forested acres in the United States as we did when the Europeans
arrived, especially in the eastern states, where marginal farmland
has returned to hardwood forest with a vengeance. Oak trees pack
a lot of carbon, and even though it's a long-horizon project,
we should be planting more of them everywhere we can. (Whatever
happened to Arbor Day?) Simply using less gas, coal, and oil is
a good thing, but it's not enough to save our bacon at this point.
We need to be pulling carbon out of the air anyway we can, in tremendous
By the way, I've been keeping my eyes open for good figures on how
much carbon (in terms of gallons of gasoline, tons of coal, or cubic
feet of natural gas) is present in a single average frame house or
cubic yard of grass clippings or old newspapers and magazines, but
haven't found anything yet. Do send me pointers to data like that
if you find it.