Pics from South America

Working within the Internet industry, you quickly learn that massive, major website releases or updates are generally only a good idea for PR purposes. From a software stability and financial perspective, it's generally better to do lots of smaller, incremental improvements and updates.
I've finally learned, and I'm going to apply the same lesson to my own site. Instead of spending entire weekends scanning my slides from my sabbatical travels, I'm going to simply scan a photo here or there when I have time and post one every day until I run out of good ones. I'll start with South America and start posting them to this index page. I used to promise to make massive changes or updates to the look and feel or functionality on the site, and I'm going to stop doing that. It just publicizes my naive optimism. No, I'll only announce things that are done and live.
I added permalinks to my weblog, though the anchors are appearing just below the post subject lines for some unknown reason. I'll fix them when...oh wait, I promised not to make any promises.

World Wide Blog

Since I first started my website, which was essentially built around my weblog, the number of weblogs on the web has exploded. The first few I knew of were mostly creations of a few high tech geeks. Software soon put it in the hands of thousands. Most journalists and leading technology thinkers have weblogs now. Lots of famous people (e.g. Rupaul, William Shatner) have weblogs, though somehow I think it's generally not a good sign if an actor has enough time to be writing in his/her weblog, and the roster of those who do is proof of that. Still, I find that more and more of the time I spend on the web is spent perusing weblogs. That's a far cry from my browsing habits of just a few years ago, and it's a good thing.
I was reminded of this when I went to add some links to my weblog link list. I found some blogs which had moved, like Allen's, and added a few links to some blogs I've taken to perusing every day, like that of Lawrence Lessig. I know more about what my favorite and most prolific bloggers are thinking from day to day than I do about my closest friends and family, and that's not because I spend any less time on the phone or in person with my loved ones than other normal people. The weblog is just a highly efficient bullhorn for one's mental preoccupations, and it's a wonderful thing when interesting people pick it up. It's no wonder that I know more about Adam and Jenny's daily activities now that they live in Boston than I did about their daily lives when they lived nearby in Seattle.
It's easier and more efficient to peruse a series of blogs and find minds you respect than any other method I've encountered. There's a natural tendency among the earliest bloggers (I don't think I was early enough to qualify for that group) to roll their eyes when mainstream journalists like John Dvorak finally hop on the bandwagon to declare that blogs are the next big thing. He writes:
"Is blogging a stepping stone to something else? If so, what?
While the smug I-told-you-so

A SIFF Weekend

Lots of SIFF action this weekend. Friday night, I attended An Evening with Ray Harryhausen. I've always loved stop-motion animation, and in that field the name of Harryhausen is royalty (for modern viewers unfamiliar with his name, the Pixar folks paid tribute to him in Monsters Inc. by naming the sushi restaurant where Boo cuts loose Harryhausen's). I loved Clash of the Titans as a kid, in large part because of Harryhausen's excellent work with Kalibos, Pegasus, Bo-Bo, Medusa, and the Kraken. My dad had a copy on Beta, and I wore that videotape out. So to see him in person was a treat.
After the man himself came out to a standing ovation, we jumped right into a screening of The Tortoise and the Hare, his new (or should we call it old? He began the short in the 50's and abandoned it) animated short. It explores the familiar fable using the magic of stop motion animation. What's so wonderful about stop motion animation is that it looks both real and fantastic at the same time. Since the materials are real, it has texture and substance in a way that even the most advanced CGI today fails to emulate. At the same time, the strobe-like movements give it a dream-like quality, as if someone had slowed film down to half its normal 24 fps frame rate.
After that screening, Harryhausen himself came out for some Q&A. He's over 80 years old now, but the Q&A left no doubt that his memory and mind are still sharp. Someone asked about what he thought about The Nightmare before Christmas and James and the Giant Peach. He noted, correctly, that while they were delightful movies, they used stop motion animation to create a world of puppets, while his movies mixed real actors with stop motion animation, using the technique to achieve realism. He also noted that CGI was a fabulous advance in special effects but that its fatal flaw was its weightlessness. Having just seen The Matrix: Reloaded I knew exactly what he meant--the CGI fight scenes lack weight and impact. Most of the questions the moderator asked were dull; clearly he'd simply done some research on Harryhausen's filmography and proceded from one movie to the next, asking questions like, "Tell us about The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad. What was that all about?" But Harryhausen himself was entertaining, a gentleman, and he even brought along a several inch high skeleton, one of the ones used in the movie we were about to see...
...Jason and the Argonauts is widely considered to be Harryhausen's best movie. He had good luck with Greek myths. I'd never seen it before. A grand time was had by all, and everyone applauded when Harryhausen's name appeared in the opening credits and after each of his famous stop motion animation sequences. I only wish the moderator hadn't consumed most of the Q&A time with his dull questions so more people could have asked him his thoughts on the modern special effects industry.
Saturday night, Whale Rider and The Animatrix played back to back at the Egyptian. I saw Whale Rider in Auckland, New Zealand, on its opening night there, in the company of a theater packed to capacity with Kiwis. The movie is about a Maori tribe (the Maori people are the aboriginal people of New Zealand) in modern times, struggling with its cultural identity. I didn't see it again Saturday, but getting in line at the wrong time and finding out that it was showing there reminded me of how enjoyable a flick it was. It's deservedly been a film fest favorite all across the world, so if you get a chance to catch it in theaters near you, please do.
The Animatrix itself was somewhat of a disappointment, but the Q&A was juicy. The 9 shorts composing The Animatrix were directed by some of the most famous names in animation. These were the creative minds behind well-known animation ranging from Cowboy Bebop and Akira to Aeon Flux and Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within. With such talent involved, and with the Wachowski brothers well-known love of anime, it had to be all good, right? Well, something in the formula was off, and the Q&A offered clues.
While each short expands on the mythology of The Matrix (much as various comic books and novels build on the Star Wars universe but aren't required reading for fans of just the movies), none would stand on their own as a story. As writers know, short stories have a lower margin of error than novels. Each detail has to be carefully chosen to convey as much as possible in as few words as possible. Movie shorts are the same way--to flush out characters and establish dramatic tension, every visual and phrase of dialogue has to be more carefully wrought than in a feature length film. Or you can choose to make the plot central and forget about establishing any memorable characters. Most of the shorts in The Animatrix failed to establish any memorable characters (an oft-heard and oft-just criticism of anime features in general), and their dramatic impact seems to have been miniaturized on the same scale as their running times.
The animation itself is of high quality. Those who love the sleek, sexy visual flair of anime won't be disappointed. Most of it, however, is recognizable from the animators' previous work and doesn't feel as groundbreaking now as it was then. I love anime; Ghost in the Shell, Akira, Ninja Scroll, and anything by Hayao Miyazaki are favorites. I really wanted The Animatrix to be a success. It felt like less than that. Matrix fanatics and completists and anime fanatics will no doubt pick up the DVD and will sing its praises to high heaven. Anime fanatics seem to be so fervent in their hope to convert the world to their religion that they have a blind spot to anime's faults, which are many. The rest of the world should pick up some of the original works by the directors involved but can pass on The Animatrix itself.
I nearly left before Q&A, but my past experience had been that Q&A is often the best part of festival screenings. Peter Chung of Aeon Flux fame was the special guest. His short, Matriculated, was, as he told us before the screening, the "weird one" of the 9 shorts. This time, the same moderator from the Harryhausen event was on hand, but fortunately he kept his questions to a minimum and let the crowd fire away. I knew the Q&A would be good as soon as Chung said, "Well, I'm going to say a few things I probably shouldn't say, things I haven't said at press conferences." He had recently screened The Animatrix at Cannes.
The first interesting tidbit was that he wasn't one of the original directors invited. Since he wasn't working in Japan, the Wachowski brothers missed out on asking him to participate the first time they flew to Japan to court animation's hall of fame. This trip had taken place even before The Matrix had been released in theaters internationally. The first interesting secret he shared was that the Wachowski brothers had asked Mamoru Oshii (director of Ghost in the Shell, and Patlabor I and II) to participate, and he had refused, feeling like The Matrix was a rip off of his work. Hah! Probably true, though in that case Masamune Shirow should also check his wallet. Chung heard about the project and called Warner Brothers to try and throw his hat into the ring. They refused at first, but finally he was given a shot after a few other directors dropped out.
Chung's second slip of the tongue (or perhaps it was intentional?) was when he was asked how often he had spoken to the Wachowski brothers, and how they had received his short. Chung responded that he had only spoken to the Wachowski brothers once, for an hour, before he began his work. He noted that the Wachowski brothers are very private people, and he said that he could understand why now that he'd seen The Matrix: Reloaded. Ouch! The audience laughed nervously and in sympathy (Chung is probably the fourth famous cool person I've heard dissing Reloaded in public; Liz Phair did so during her Fishbowl appearance at Amazon). He also noted that the Wachowski brothers' editor had said, after seeing Chung's short, that Chung should be shot. Hmmm. That seems unduly harsh as Matriculated was one of the more interesting stories of the bunch (Beyond was the other short with a clever plot).
A few other interesting notes from Chung's talk: while the Wachowski brothers wrote four of the shorts (The Second Renaissance Part I and Part II, The Final Flight of the Osiris, and Kid's Story), they had other stories they wanted the directors to cover but most of the directors balked and wanted to cover their own material. To their credit, the Wachowski brothers let most of them have free reign. All the shorts were supposed to be 6 minutes long, but pretty much every director went over that limit. The Final Flight of the Osiris, created by Andy Jones the team behind Final Fantasy, was the most expensive short, with a budget exceeding that of all the other shorts combined. To me it was one of the least interesting shorts, playing like a few deleted scenes from the movie, with a pointless and somewhat redundant fight scene staged for sexual humor. Chung also noted that Universal Studios had contacted him about participating in a similar project, though he didn't say what it was about.
By the time Q&A had ended, my impression was that Chung was venting a bit. It doesn't sound like any of the directors enjoyed working with the Wachowski brothers on the project, and I doubt any would do so again if given the choice. Don't expect to see any companion anime DVDs with The Matrix: Revolutions. Perhaps the creative tensions explain the disappointing work. It's similar, perhaps, to the reason the NBA All-Star teams that go over to the Olympics always seem to fare so poorly.
Tonight, Sunday night, concluded my SIFF weekend. The theater was the Harvard Exit and the movie was Hukkle, pronounced who-clay (up until the film fest programmer introduced the movie I thought it rhymed with chuckle). It means hiccup in Hungarian. Its draw is that it contains no dialogue except for a few songs sung at the end (why couldn't they have screened this one at the Egyptian, with its murky acoustics? I hate the Egyptian). Film festivals love movies like this that push the limits.
I suspect many people attended not because the movie had no dialogue but in spite of that. The advertisements all referred to a murdery mystery in the plot, and I suspect that lured many curious moviegoers. Visual pictograms? Sounded like fun.
In that end that proved to be a bit of false marketing. Yes, there is a murdery mystery, but if that's the only reason you watch this movie you'll be disappointed. The murder mystery is just one part of first-time director Gy

I am Tiger Woods

I am merely a total geek.
I am Neo.
I've biked three times this week, and I am much slower than Lance Armstrong. I am too heavy. I have about one month to lose lots of weight before tackling Alpe D'Huez in France. I am scared.
I am still looking for a job.
I finally got some amoxicillin from my doctor for my sinus infection, so I am a happy puppy.
I am really scared and repulsed by that guy Nic in the Apple Music Store commercial who sings "Baby Got Back." I think Apple must be, too, since they pulled the Quicktime movie that I wanted to link to.
I am really sad that I finished Moneyball and The Da Vinci Code in one day each, because they were really entertaining. I'm sure you'll like them too.
I am sick of spam.
I am disappointed by Enter the Matrix and the new Pete Yorn album, and mildly disappointed by the new Jack Johnson album.
I am the only person who hasn't seen Bruce Almighty. I am excited for Finding Nemo.
I am going to see Ray Harryhausen!

Liz

Liz Phair visited Amazon.com today to play a few tunes, meet some of her adoring fans, and promote her upcoming album titled simply Liz Phair. This was part of the Fishbowl Series, in which musical artists visit Amazon and play some tunes in one of our conference rooms to thank us for selling lots of their albums (I'd say they were thanking us for our support, but since our catalog is virtual we support every CD that's issued). Past notables whose voices have tickled our walls include Aimee Mann, Dido, and Johnny Marr.
Liz looked, ummm, really hot in her leather jacket, boots, and mini, mini skirt. She doesn't look like she's aged a bit since Exile in Guyville came out in 93. Thank god, because it made me feel young (I may have to start attending more plays, classical music concerts, and operas, because those are other places I feel young). Liz has never been shy about playing up her looks, and that sexual honesty and aggression has been part of her image and music since the beginning.
Accompanied by some dude on guitar, she sang three oldies and two tracks, Why Can't I? and Rock Me, off of her upcoming release. The new album includes four tracks produced by The Matrix, most well-known for their success with Avril Lavigne. As such, the album's rumored to be more radio-friendly. Why Can't I? is one of the Matrix tunes, and it's definitely a sweet little love ballad with pop sensibility. Rock Me's lyrics play like a tamer version of her sexual predator persona, sung as they are to seduce some young boy, a boy too young to even know who Liz Phair is, and someone she'd like to play XBox with on his living room floor.
Divorce Song
Why Can't I?
Rock Me
Johnny Feelgood
Statford-on-Guy

Liz in person is very approachable. She's hardly the angry, sarcastic alt-rock goddess you might envision after listening to her music. She joked around ("I've always wanted to play this room"), laughed and smiled while she sang, and genuinely seemed to have a good time. People who love their work have that certain glow about them, as if they recognize how blessed they are. When they finally let us in she serenaded us with Extreme's More Than Words, and she tried to get us all to sing along at the end of her performance, but we young Amazonians were too jaded and self-conscious to participate.
Her voice sounds like it's matured a bit. No one will ever confuse her pipes for those of Celine Dion, but I think even her detractors will have to admit that she's now more than a vocal storyteller. I happen to enjoy her raw voice--it enforces the emotional honesty of her music.
I sat in the front row, just a few feet from her, and when she looked at me for a moment while singing Divorce Song my brain started to heat up and I spent the rest of her set sweating like Albert Brooks in Broadcast News. Afterwards, I waited in line to meet her, as nervous as a virgin on prom night. She signed all my CD jacket covers and a black and white publicity still. On each one she wrote my name in a different handwritten font, and on the cover of Exile in Guyville she wrote "COME BACK!!"
I never left, Liz!
The sexiest person to ever grace this conference room (not hard when it's used primarily by computer programmers). Liz looks a bit like Meg Ryan or Alicia Silverstone, but more mischievous (naughty?).

Lucky, lucky guitar.

For the last song, Liz grabbed the guitar from that dude who needs a haircut and proved she still rocks.

P.S.: You'll notice a lot more photos in my blog recently. I finally gave in and bought a digital camera, a Minolta F300. I can't tell if I like it yet. If I had to do it all over again I'd probably buy a Canon Powershot S50, and some things about digital cameras really annoy me. The slow zooming in and out, the lag time between when you hit the shutter and when you capture the shot. I'm definitely not ready to give up my analog 35mm Nikon yet.
Still, the great thing about digital cameras is how quickly photos can be transferred to a computer and posted online. My 35mm was in the shop, so the digital camera saved me today.

Google backlash

Among the hot new topics in geekdom while I was on sabbatical is the Google backlash. First came the concern over Googlewashing, the web equivalent of memetic cleansing. Now bloggers are asking if pagerank is dead?
Google is far from dead (indeed, it seems to have been peaking in mainstream press love in recent months, since the mainstream press is always several months late to every technology revolution). However, Google's search result effectiveness has not improved significantly in quite a while. Its greatest strength is its greatest weakness, and that is the pagerank algorithm. Since everyone knows how it works, it can be gamed, Google's denials notwithstanding. And the idea of using the link structure of the web to sort search results, while a great improvement over previous predominant algorithms of web search, has plateaued in effectiveness. The next revolution in search requires not just a new body and a walnut trim but a different engine altogether.
Still, a search on my name in Google still puts me at the top of its search results, and for that my vanity is thankful. Though this Dr. Eugene Wei at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration is getting on my nerves and must be stopped.

Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead...

Last last Sunday's NYTimes had an article titled Dating a Blogger, Reading All About It. The article discussed the uncomfortable phenomenon of reading private details of your life exposed in someone else's weblog. It's not a new topic for bloggers who had had to confront the issue and make some choices from the time they started publishing to the web, but perhaps it's an unpleasant surprise for those who don't blog but find themselves surrounded by a rapidly growing community of amateur web journalists.
Writers (journalists being a particularly notorious subspecies) have always had to deal with the suspicions of their subjects. It's not unjustified, especially in this tabloid age, a natural extension, perhaps, of the revolution in investigative journalism which many trace to Woodward and Bernstein and Watergate. As much as a writer can cement your reputation with a mainstream audience, much as Michael Lewis did for Billy Beane in Moneyball, the writer's main goal is to establish his own reputation and legacy. Beane is paying the cost for his fame. Many baseball executives have publicly denounced Beane for sharing the secrets of their conversations and for making them look like fools (the truth hurts, especially when publicized), and even some of Beane's own scouts resent the all the credit Lewis gives to Beane for the A's strong farm system.
My personal philosophy is never to mention anyone I know in my weblog unless I'm sharing positive feedback and something I'd be comfortable saying in public with that person present. I try to err on the side of caution; you'll hear me write about movies or concerts or plays I've attended, but usually I don't mention who I went with. It's not that I'm embarrassed about the company I keep (I've been accused of it), but I'm never sure if others want their personal lives publicized. What if they lied to someone else about why they were going to be busy that night? You'd be amazed at the ridiculous lengths that people will go to to spend time with me (Editor: note the seamless injection of self-deprecating humor), and I've been known to resort to a harmless fib from time to time myself to secure some private time. Perhaps in the early days of my weblog I could get away with it, but I don't know enough about my audience now to risk it. I do know it's a larger audience than before, and that restricts the amount I'm willing to share.
To some, this leaves my weblog devoid of, well, me. But there's more of me here than you think. All written language reveals something about the structure of the mind it came from. For someone who's actually quite private, I sometimes cringe at some of the things I've published to the web. Some of it will come back to haunt me, I'm sure of it. Psychologists have done experiments in which subjects were asked very personal questions. One group was asked to respond while looking into a mirror, and another group to respond without the mirror. The group with the mirror revealed much less about themselves. Something of that effect works on me when I sit at the keyboard, or take pen in hand. The distance from my brain and heart to the my typing fingers is shorter than that to my mouth.
But never fear, I've found a new way to signal to everyone about when we're speaking on or off the record. If I'm ever wearing this t-shirt from O'Reilly, you'll know it's not a good time to confess that you're cheating on your honeybun, or your taxes. Remember that Far Side cartoon titled canine social blunders? In it, a dog stops all conversation at a cocktail party when he proclaims loudly: "Say, I just found out yesterday I've got worms."

Bike rides in Seattle

Back when I was training for RAMROD in 2001, I posted this page with some links to some ride maps and cue sheets for others who were going to do the ride with me. I found most of them on Seattle Sidewalk (now Citysearch) My page is quite out-of-date now, but I never got around to updating or deleting it, and at some point Sidewalk pulled down the cue sheets so my site ended up being an archive of those pages. A surprising number of cyclists would find the cue sheets through Google and write me about them from time to time.
Last week a guy named Jim Eanes dropped me a line. Turns out he was the originator of the cue sheets for Sidewalk. So first off, thanks to Jim for his service to all Seattle cyclists. Creating cue sheets is time-consuming and a hassle. Secondly, Jim pointed me to some updated cue sheets he's created. Cool stuff. Just in time to provide some variety in my training regimen. I was getting so sick of the Lake Washington and Mercer Island loops, and I need all the motivation I can get to climb back in the saddle, what with another Tour de France mountain climbing bike trip only five weeks away.

Anniversaries and Birthdays

Happy wedding anniversary to Joannie and Mike! And happy birthday to Sharon! Memorial Day will always be a big weekend for our family. As I get older, I find that proximity to family is becoming more and more important, especially now that I'm an uncle. Since I'm the only one in the family west of Chicago, this feeling registers as guilt and a nagging itch. It's a strike against Seattle, through no fault of its own.
Perhaps if I had my own wife and kid(s), it would be less of an issue. I pushed Sadie around in her newfangled stroller (they make them so the baby can face the driver now) around Queen Anne this weekend, and she stared at me the whole time with her big blue eyes (which are perhaps turning brown), sucking on her pacifier quietly like Maggie Simpson. She has doubled in weight since last I saw her, before South America, and now has a double chin, a feature only adorable in infants. I'm still not ready for parenthood, but partaking of it vicariously from time to time has helped the whole idea to grow on me.

Da Vinci Code and sinusitis

While traveling, I picked up a copy of Dan Brown's huge bestseller, The Da Vinci Code. I haven't indulged in popular fiction since junior high, but the dearth of English-language books in South America broke down my snobbery defenses. At every bookstore, the choice came down to embarrassment minimization: which trashy novel would I be least embarrassed to be caught reading? Authors with a lock on English language shelf space in South America include Danielle Steele, Jackie Collins, J.K. Rowling, Stephen King, Richard North Patterson, and an assortment of other names who are vaguely familiar as icons of American pop fiction.
Many pop fiction authors write glowing reviews for each other, and these decorate the back covers. Dan Brown's book won out because of the glowing reviews I'd seen from less biased and somewhat more respected critics online, from journals like The New York Times and Salon.
I finally got around to starting the book this weekend, and I haven't been able to set it down. It's hardly fine literature, but it is pure thriller, with a cliffhanger at the end of every short chapter, some only a page or two long. What's most intriguing is that it mixes in ideas and legends from the real world in such a way that you can't tell what's fact or fiction. I'll try not to give any plotlines away, but one of the central clues in the novel is that Leonardo Da Vinci's painting The Last Supper depicts Mary Magdalene, and not John, seated to Jesus' right. If you look closely enough at the painting, the apostle seated to Jesus' right does look like a woman. The novel discusses the number phi, 1.618, and the Fibonnaci sequence. Key characters in the novel include secret societies like the Knights Templar and the Priory de Scion, and the Opus Dei. That Brown weaves all these together in a complex but believable plot is its primary appeal.
If I don't finish the book this weekend, though, it will be because of a nasty sinus infection, my second this year. I had one after returning from Brazil, and I've brought another back from South America. I suspect it is the result of inhaling some river water outside of Cusco, Peru, when I leaped from a 25 foot bridge into the Urubamba River at the end of a white water rafting trip. The river water probably wasn't very sanitary considering how much trash had been tossed into it by the locals. We could see thousands of plastic bags along the river's edge, plucked out of the water by branches of trees and bushes.
I had never had a sinus infection until this year, so it took me longer than usual to diagnose it. I finally realized it Saturday, but my doc doesn't have an on-call number so I've been craving antibiotics all this holiday weekend. So miserable am I, with my aching teeth, throbbing sinuses, runny nose, and mild headache. It prevented me from enjoying to the fullest the pleasant weather, the Sasquatch Music Festival, my first road bike excursion in months, my first tennis match in years, and the play Over the Moon by Steven Dietz.

Be still my bleeding heart

Liz Phair is coming to Amazon on Tuesday to play a few tunes from her upcoming new album. I may even catch her live tomorrow at the Gorge at the Sasquatch Festival, along with The Coral, The Flaming Lips, Jurassic 5, Coldplay, and other such nobrow (neither highbrow nor lowbrow) acts.
The first time I heard Liz was in high school, when Nate and Rich introduced me to Exile in Guyville. That album rocked. Then I saw a picture of her and for a long time was madly in love; here was an indie rocker chick who was hot! Later, as I matured, I realized that it wasn't love but merely celebrity adulation, causing me to question the basis of all my relationships to that point in life.
But that's another story. The story at hand is that I am going to meet Liz Phair. Somewhere in those 10 or so years since she hit the music scene, she lost her indie cred. More accurately, the indie cred police revoked her membership. She appeared in a Calvin Klein ad and a movie titled Cherish whose cast included Jason Priestley. But who in this day and age can remain a citizen of note in Indieland? Anyone gaining any notoriety in any field as an independent artist is rapidly assimilated and marketed and distributed by the capitalist engine. There's nowhere to hide. Those who retain their indie badges tend to be slightly cuckoo, on the path to senility, or so radical in their art that only a sliver of people can stomach it (e.g. Noam Chomsky, Lars von Trier).
She's still hot, she still rocks, and I hope she'll sign my album covers.

Tank, Link, whoever: I need an exit

After the first Matrix movie, I really coveted a Nokia with the spring-loaded sliding cover. Turns out such a phone wasn't available--the spring-loaded thumb-activated sliding cover was available on one Nokia series phone, but the actual phone body used in the movie was some other model, rigged with the nifty trick cover. The phone from the The Matrix: Reloaded, however, is available exactly as seen in the movie. Alas, it's only compatible with Sprint.
Had I been a Sprint subscriber when these first hit the market, I would, without a doubt, own one today. Pop-up earpiece? Bloody cool. Flash your inner geek proudly.

Schism

Garner: "Pronunciation experts have long agreed that the word is pronounced /si-zem/, not /ski-zem/ or /shi-zem/" (note, those letter e's are supposed to be upside down; that special HTML character doesn't exist in ASCII ISO 8859-1).
That disagrees with Dictionary.com's suggested pronunciation, but Merriam-Webster agrees with Garner in its preferred pronunciation.
A tidbit for the next time you're at a loss for conversation.

Software news

No such thing as a free lunch

Cloudmark's Spamnet has been my spam filter of choice in outlook for sometime. It's been in beta for quite some time, perhaps so long it lulled its beta users into an ignorant bliss. Consider them awake now. The final version of Spamnet has launched, and it's not free. Version 1.0 will cost $3.99 per month, though beta testers like me get a discounted rate of $1.99, or the option to continue using the beta version for free. Seems fair to me.
As the company president states in a post on his discussion board, his company needs revenue to survive. And they responded quickly to complaints about having to pay for licenses on multiple machines by expanding allowing users to spread their subscription across 2 machines. In addition, friends and family of beta testers can also get the $1.99 per month pricing (note to my friends and family: let me know if you're interested) and everyone who signs up for Spamnet and cites me as a referrer earns me a free month of the service.
My tolerance for paying for web content has increased over the years, and I'm not alone. I've paid for online subscriptions to Salon and Baseball Prospectus, for online billpaying through Yahoo (though Bank of America now offers it for free), and for an occasional article or e-book. The pricing for services on the web aren't always fair (they should pass through the lower cost of distribution, IMO), but in most cases we've received, and continue to receive, a huge bargain in accessing the vast resources of the Internet.
[My title is inaccurate. Given the vast and nascent landscape of the Internet, there are still lots of free lunches to be had, and not all of them bad. For example, Cory Doctorow's clever book Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom is available from his website as a free download.]
Blogger Pro versus TypePad

Been thinking about switching over to Movable Type from Blogger. These things require focused time and energy, like moving into a new home, or setting up a new PC, and I haven't had enough of either recently to tackle the task. My room is still a collection of unread mail, unfolded laundry, and other junk that accumulated while I was out of the country.
Another excuse is to wait for the next revs. Since Pyra Labs was acquired by Google, the Blogger team has been in hiding, coding their next release, nicknamed Dano. It will be interesting to see what improvements that contains. In the meantime, an improved Movable Type (with hosting thrown in) is promised with Typepad. Given that switching costs are not trivial (especially since the more fully-featured versions won't be free), aspiring weblog authors may wish to wait, or at least do some due diligence.

Me too I'm sure it's

Me too

I'm sure it's been blogged to death already, but since I was out of the country I'm pleading ignorance and reprinting this. The Washington Post Style section holds a contest in which readers are invited to write directions using the style of a famous writer. The winning entry is quite humorous:
The Hokey Pokey (as written by W. Shakespeare)
O proud left foot, that ventures quick within
Then soon upon a backward journey lithe.
Anon, once more the gesture, then begin:
Command sinistral pedestal to writhe.
Commence thou then the fervid Hokey-Poke,
A mad gyration, hips in wanton swirl.
To spin! A wilde release from Heavens yoke.
Blessed dervish! Surely canst go, girl.
The Hoke, the poke -- banish now thy doubt
Verily, I say, 'tis what it's all about.

Pacific Queen I'd never heard

Pacific Queen

I'd never heard of Pacific Queen apples until I purchased a bag from the grocery store last week. One of the produce guys in the market said they were in fresh from New Zealand, and since I'd just visited I thought I'd try something different than the usual Fuji, Braeburn, et. al. varieties.
Wow! Tasty. Super sweet. Just in my lifetime, dozens of new types of apples have been bred in laboratories around the world. Not all genetic engineering is a bad thing.