The Critical 'I'
 
   
 
 
PLEASE NOTE!
This blog has moved. Visit Population Statistic for the latest, and update your bookmarks.

This site will be disabled by the end of 2004 whenever I get around to attempting the import into WordPress ;). Certain components of the site, like commenting and trackback, will be disabled here before then.
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
Search
The Critical 'I'

 
 
   
 
Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.


This page is powered by Blogger, the easy way to update your web site.

Like butta



rss search!

Weblog Commenting by HaloScan.com

Blogster.Net -
Blog-ilicious!


 
 
 
Other Blogs
 
 

Sunday, March 21, 2004


 
DON'T DRINK THE DASANI
Do you swear by bottled water? Do you blanche at the thought of drinking iffy tap water, like Liz and others do? Then wake up, because Coca-Cola has been exposed in the UK of filling its Dasani bottles with nothing but common Thames River water, that's full of toxins despite the processing they apply.

It's what I've pretty much always suspected: Bottled water is a rip-off. I remember years ago, in an office I worked in, some chump water delivery guy (I forgot the company) bragging about how good his outfit was, because he'd worked for a couple of others, and they both used to routinely fill their water-cooler bottles at the tap, sans any treatment. Of course, his current company did nothing of the sort. Right.

Technically, Dasani isn't billed as "pure" additive-free water. Coca-Cola touts that, in addition to the reverse osmosis they do to it, they pump in additional vitamins and minerals. That's not the case with their main competition, PepsiCo's Aquafina--that's sold as filtered, unadulterated H2O. I guess I believe them, because I use three bottles of it every week to change out the water in the tank of my office pet, Phil the betta. Hey, I've been using it for a couple of years, and he's not dead yet--quite the opposite, unusually frisky for such a little fish.

----------


 
GOODBYE, WARREN
qb killa-less
Well, it's happened. A little over a week after turning up the heat in his search for a contract, Warren Sapp leaves the Bucs for Oakland's $36.6-million, 7-year deal. Thus does Tampa Bay lose one of the most entertaining and impactful athletes to ever come through town.

The move to the Raiders was a surprise, with most observers as late as yesterday morning figuring Sapp would go to Cincinnati. Despite the two clubs' histories, I think the Bengals would have been a better team to join, as they appear to be in more of an upward trend than the discombobulated Raiders. But you never can tell with NFL teams these days; Oakland might end up being the better club next year, or the year after.

John Romano's column pretty well matches my feelings about Sapp's departure. I think it was a good move for the Bucs in the longer term, but for the immediate future, going with Ellis Wyms as a replacement doesn't exactly instill me with confidence.

In looking back over Sapp's career (check out the photo of Sapp in a Devil Rays uniform!), I'm surprised it hasn't been pointed out how improbable the circumstances were that allowed Tampa Bay to draft him in the first place. When he skipped his senior year at Miami to enter the 1995 Draft, he was projected as one of the top five picks that year, even a possible No. 1 overall to the first-year Carolina Panthers. Then a few days before Draft Day, his positive test for marijuana came out, and speculation went wild: Was he a junkie? Did he demonstrate poor judgement in getting caught, which would reflect on his ability to play in the NFL? The upshot is that Carolina traded the No. 1 pick to Cincinnati, who took Ki-Jana Carter there. Expansion Jacksonville took Tony Boselli at No. 2, and the next nine teams in order also passed on Sapp, scared off solely by the positive pot results. When Tampa Bay got on the clock with the twelfth pick, they snapped him up, incredulous that he was still available. The rest, of course, is history. Sapp is rightly credited with being a major component of the Bucs' rise to respectability, yet his arrival was largely the result of dumb luck.

----------


 
MORE CHEESE PLEASE, BABY
loungin' against the machine
Is it possible to not like the post-modern lounge-lizard experience that is Richard Cheese & Lounge Against the Machine? Well, yes, I suppose it is. But I sure wouldn't want to swing with that scene, babe.

I discovered them about a year and a half ago, and enjoy their rendition of the Dead Kennedys' "Holiday In Cambodia" every time it cues up on my iPod. If you want even more Cheese, check out a generous sampling of these swingalicious covers. I highly recommend "Star Wars Cantina", sung to the rhythm of Barry Manilow's timeless "Copacabana". While supplies last.

----------


 
POPE: KEEP IT TUBULAR
Pope John Paul II declares that disconnecting feeding tubes from vegetative patients is immoral, amounting to "euthanasia by omission".

No big shocker. The way he's going, he's gonna be hooked up to a feeding tube pretty soon. I call this preemptive survival technique on his part.

----------


 
SATURDAY NIGHTS AND HYDE PARK: NO GO
For future reference: Think twice before heading out to Hyde Park on a Saturday night. Total Deadsville.

It was surprising. I was counting on some fun out there, because I figured Ybor would be overflowing with 18-to-20 year-old Spring Breakers, which wouldn't be worth the trouble. Maybe Fridays are just generally a better night for Hyde Park.

----------


Saturday, March 20, 2004


 
PARIS IN TAMPA
partying in ybor
It's true: Paris Hilton busted her ass falling off a horse in the rural regions north of Tampa, and was tracked down at a Tampa hospital hours later.

As long as she's in town, she might as well take a well-deserved break from filming the second season of "The Simple Life" and spend tonight partying in Ybor City, where I'll be (changed my mind, I'm heading out to Hyde Park instead). I typically avoid blondes, but given her other a$$et$, I'll make an exception.

As the news crews packed up and rushed from the scene to prepare for broadcast, a man and woman walking out of the hospital looked at the scene, perplexed. What is going on, the man asked, what is all the commotion?

"It's Paris Hilton," shouted a cameraman.

"Who is that?" the man asked.

The cameraman shook his head.

"Who is that?" the cameraman said. "He needs to watch more TV."

No he doesn't, cameradude. He needs to hit the Internet, where Paris' best work can be found.

----------


 
FUNDRACE 2004
Yup, you can indeed find out which of your friends and neighbors made political campaign contributions, and to which candidate, through Fundrace 2004. Here's what's shaking in my neighborhood (actually, it's more like my city--even searching by ZIP code, it's not particularly specific). Lots of familiar names in there, actually.

This may smack of unauthorized access, but by law, it's not:

Federal election law makes the snooping possible. Presidential candidates are required to disclose contributions of $200 or more, and the Federal Election Commission makes databases available for download.

The thing is, would the knowledge that such information is easily attainable dissuade some people from giving in the future? The big-time contributors won't be bothered, but is it worth the exposure to give a couple of hundred bucks?

----------


 
GET THE LEAD OUT!
choo-choo
Are you a fan of Mexico's world famous Chaca Chaca candy bar? Going by this damning review, I can't imagine why anyone would be. Now, there's even less reason to enjoy it: The state of California has issued a health warning on it, saying it contains dangerously high levels of lead.

The Chaca Chaca is made from apple pulp and chili powder, along with tamarind. Where does the lead come in? I guess it's from the manufacturing process.

----------


Friday, March 19, 2004


 
ACCIDENTAL VIDEOGAME PORN
bone-us round
We all know videogames are tools of the devil. They make you twitchy, nervous, violent and disrespectful toward your parents. Of late, they've even been accused of killing TV ratings. Evil, I tells ya.

The pixelated violence has been a given. But sexually explicit images? Yup, those game designers are one filthy lot, and they've been demonstrating that ever since the days of the infamous "Custer's Revenge" on the Atari 2600. Some people, particularly those at Berkeley, choose to believe that all those examples of joystick porn is accidental; but I say, a wink is as good as a nod to a blind man. Whatever that means.

The image above, by the way, is from 1989's "Golgo 13: Top Secret Episode", for the NES. Secret-agent-man Golgo has come a long way since then; these days, he's fighting against international currency fluctuation plots.

----------


 
THE CARSON DALY CURSE
curses!
This just occurred to me, after an evening of watching images of Carson Daly, Tara Reid, and Jennifer Love Hewitt flash across the TV screen:

Dating Carson Daly is a career-killing move.

Consider: Hewitt's career has tanked hard ever since she dated and broke up with him. Same with Reid. Can it be coincidence? I think not.

So, the next girl who hooks up with Carson better not count on having a showbiz career after the fact. The man's toxic.

----------


Thursday, March 18, 2004


 
REAL PHONE MISDIAL SCAMS
I must have had my psychic mojo working this past Tuesday. My seemingly crackpot suggestion that shady companies were buying up spare toll-free numbers in the hopes of snaring unsuspecting misdialers appears to be validated as fact by this FTC crackdown:

According to the Federal Trade Commission, three Utah-based companies bought dozens of phone numbers very similar to the toll-free numbers that "American Idol" fans call to place their votes. Viewers who misdialed and got one of the numbers were directed to dial a 900-number to place their vote. A message on the 900-number then gave the correct toll-free number to call.

The FTC said about 25,000 consumers were charged up to $3 per call during the 2002 and 2003 seasons.

I wonder if there's any connection to the offending companies being in Utah, with that state's (801) area code being so close to the usual (800) toll-free code. I can't believe anyone would misdial the 1-800 part of a toll-free number, but I guess when you're talking about thousands, even millions, of callers, the odds are there. Said odds being markedly increased when you're talking about idiot "American Idol" fans.

This game has been played on the Web for years. Typos of popular website URLs used to be cornered regularly by the same sort of sleazy operators. Some still are--for instance, mistyping "excite.com" as "exxcite.com" will give you a bunch of popups and a redirect to some fly-by-night website. More commonly, the intended websites will buy up the typo URLs to ensure they don't get hijacked; Yahoo!, for instance, has got "yaho.com", "yahooo.com", and "yahooh.com" all redirecting to the proper homepage.

----------


 
MOTIVATIONAL READING
reading is hack-amental
Just a couple of days ago, I spouted off:

What are the odds of a hacker buying and reading an actual book?

Today, The Boondocks' Aaron McGruder runs with that concept, in his usual funny way.
















----------


 
BEWARE THE HERBAL PREPARATIONS
I was regaled with a funny story from my officemate this morning about her doctor's visit yesterday. When she opened her comments with, "If you've been looking for the worst doctor in Clearwater, call off your search, because I found him," I knew it would be a good one.

She's had this persisent coughing and sinus problem all week long, and after realizing that it wasn't attributable to allergies, she bit the bullet and set up a doctor's appointment. This was a first-time visit, so the first thing the doctor did was give her a once-over physical. She said she was fine with that, although I have the feeling that she wasn't completely comfortable, considering that she knew the problem was a throat/respiratory thing. But doctor's orders and all that.

So the doctor did his thing, and when he was done, asked her the following:

"Are you taking any herbal preparations?"

My friend was thrown by this. "What do you mean by 'herbal preparations'?"

"You know," the doctor said. "Herbal preparations."

"I don't know what that is. What sort of things are you talking about? Can you give me an example?"

A nurse who was in the room with them chimed in, "What we mean is, you know, herbal preparations."

Already peeved by having to undergo what she felt was an iffy physical exam, my friend was getting testy with this rather dense line of questioning. She made another attempt at clarity: "Are you talking about vitamins, something like that?"

Nurse: "No no, we mean more like--Herbal. Preparations."

They might have been alluding to some modern-day snake-oil remedy like St. John's Wort or something, and simply didn't have the communicative skills to get their point across. Or they might have been probing about more illicit substances like marijuana, and were desperately trying not to say so. Whatever the case, my friend was fed up by now, and just said, "I don't think so. Why?"

The doc delivered the kicker: "Well, it's just that a lot of women have been using herbal preparations lately when they're trying to get pregnant."

Getting pregnant is a sore point with my friend. She's pretty much dead set against having any kids, ever; but as a married woman in her late 20s, she's getting pressure from several directions to breed, already. To get this assumption from a schmuck doctor who seemed less than on-the-ball, and who she was seeing solely for a respiratory problem, was too much to take. Adding to the awkwardness was that a fellow officemate around the same age officially announced yesterday morning that she was a few weeks pregnant; I think the juxtaposition felt like yet another societal full-court press on her to have a child.

Despite telling the doctor that she was definitely not taking anything to get pregnant, herbal or otherwise, he kept insisting otherwise. At that point, my friend got her prescription and got the hell out of there.

Kind of harrowing, kind of funny. It made for a good morning story, anyway.

UPDATE: I checked with her later in the day on one point: The doctor did ask her directly regarding pot and other illicit drug use, so that wasn't what he was hinting at.

It also occurred to us that "herbal preparations" connotes Preparation H. Good for hemorrhoids, bad for babies?

----------


Wednesday, March 17, 2004


 
TURKISH SONG OF THE DAMNED
Back from a St. Patrick's Day party at Bennigan's. Not too adventurous, but very close to home, so it fit the bill. It was okay, but given that I'm blogging in the aftermath, it obviously wasn't that good.

Anyway, to close out this St. Patty's Day, I feel like conjuring up a Pogues song: "Turkish Song of the Damned". The song itself is not that Irish, but the instrumentation is definitely Celtic, and the Poguers themselves are definitely Irish.

I come old friend from Hell tonight
Across the rotting sea
Nor the nails of the cross
Nor the blood of Christ
Can bring you help this eve
The dead have come to claim a debt from thee
They stand outside your door
Four score and three
Did you keep a watch for the dead man's wind
Did you see the woman with the comb in her hand
Wailing away on the wall on the strand
As you danced to the Turkish song of the damned

You remember when the ship went down
You left me on the deck
The captain's corpse jumped up
And threw his arms around my neck
For all these years I've had him on my back
This debt cannot be paid with all your jack

And as I sit and talk to you I see your face go white
This shadow hanging over me
Is no trick of the light
The spectre on my back will soon be free
The dead have come to claim a debt from thee

----------


 
BROADBAND INTERNET: DSL CATCHING UP?
A few days ago, I mentioned in passing that DSL Internet providers had made a little headway against their cable competitors. Now, new findings from Leichtman Research Group back this up, along with showing the broader expansion of home broadband access for both cable and DSL.

As of now, there are some 24.6 million broadband customers in the U.S. That's big, but it's important to remember that it's still far less than the number of dialup customers.

Leichtman isn't prepared to declare a trend in DSL's stronger numbers, but it seems that, at least temporarily, the revitalized marketing efforts by the phone companies are paying dividends. The next step is seeing how the cable providers hit back, and if DSL can keep up these gains. The boost in download capacity from 1.5 to 3 mbps by most cable providers is one move, although I'm not sure it'll resonate with customers.

----------


 
LIQUID PIZZA
Also spied by my eye during lunch today: Packages of Campell's Soup At Hand in pizza flavor. Pizza soup. Yuck.

I guess if you insist on being an inefficient multitasking showoff, you deserve the likes of liquified pizza.

----------


 
LAUGHING MYSELF AWAKE
I rarely ever remember my dreams. That may sound odd to some people, particularly those who regularly have vivid recollections of their dream states. I've actually been accused of lying about this, and using that as a false excuse for not wanting to open up and share, out of fear for revealing something about myself.

But it's the fer-real truth. For whatever reason, I can't seem to retain very much from my dreams, and I believe this has been the case for most of my life. I think I dream as much as the average sleeping person, and I usually get the faint impression that I have dreamed most nights. It seems that if I wake up in the middle of a dream, or if I'm dreaming pretty close to the time I normally wake up, I will retain at least some partial recollection; but even then, half the time that memory fades to nothing within minutes of waking up. It's exceedingly rare that I'll ever recall a complete dream, from start to finish.

Why is this? I've never had it analyzed, but I suspect the prognosis would be something along the lines of avoiding whatever underlying meaning the dreams may have--by wiping them clean from my brain right away, I don't have to examine them, as I'd be wont to do. I'm sure the relative lack of sleep I get regularly is part of it: I tend to remember my dreaming from the occasions where I sleep longer than my usual 6-7 hours (which might suggest I actually dream more with more hours of slumber). I don't know that that's the whole story, though, because even as a kid who got more than enough sleep, I had the same trouble remembering them.

Since I've lived like this all my life, I've been used to it, and don't really feel like I've missed much. But sometimes, the lack of remembrance in this area is nagging, at least for the day or so after it happens.

Like last night, for instance. I was having some sort of dream, but if I had a gun to my head, I couldn't tell you any details. The only thing I know for sure was that there was something intensely funny about it. So intense, in fact, that I felt myself laughing really, really hard in the dream. The next thing I knew, I was awake, having woken myself up with my own hard, sustained, out-of-my-mouth laughter. I had dreamt something so funny that it managed to wake me up in the middle of the night!

And of course, as soon as I woke up, I didn't remember a damned thing about it.

----------


 
TECHNO-DELI
Sign of the digital times: While at the Publix deli today getting my lunch (6-inch turkey sub on grain bread, if you must know), I noticed a 17-inch computer monitor sitting in plain view directly behind the counter, with a Publix screensaver flashing on and off every few seconds.

A computer terminal hookup in the deli department. No doubt a useful, even necessary, work tool for the supermarket employees. But it still seems a little odd. I'm sure it seemed odd when they first started installing phones in places like the deli and stockrooms about 30 years ago, too.

----------


 
I THOUGHT EVERYONE WAS IRISH TODAY??
Usually, I'm the one who forgets to don some color-appropriate apparel on a holiday that falls on a workday. It'll slip my mind that it's 4th of July, for instance, and I'll wind up being the only schmuck in the office who doesn't wear a red-white-and-blue shirt/pant/tie combo (and in fact, probably will wear something starkly different, like all black--and rouse suspicion that I'm a closet anarchist or something).

This morning, I was proud of the fact that my waking mind actually remembered that today is St. Patrick's Day, and accordingly, I put on a green shirt to signify the holiday. For once, I remembered!

But so far today, it seems the joke is yet again on me. I've been around and about in downtown St. Pete today, walking from my office to the nearby Publix for lunch, getting a good eyeful of all the other downtown work denizens. Guess what? It's been a struggle to find many other people who are wearing a spot of green today. Even olive or khaki green would be acceptable, but no: I'd estimate at least every other person I saw walking around was totally green-less.

What's the deal? Is this a bad year for celebrating St. Patty's? Is it that it fell on a Wednesday, the traditionally blah humpday? Were there not enough Guinness "St. Patrick's Day Christmas" ads running over the past couple of weeks (which my assistant absolutely loves, by the way)?

As you can see, it's kinda bummed me out, not the least because green is also my favorite color. I guess I'll drown my sorrows in alcohol later tonight. Maybe something green, probably not beer.

UPDATE: It looks like my guesstimate of every other person in downtown St. Pete wearing green was fairly accurate, as this informal St. Pete Times poll indicates.

----------


Tuesday, March 16, 2004


 
A DIFFERENT KIND OF BUSCH... GARDENS
Here's one way to get your Fun Card: Tampa's own Busch Gardens mailed out a marketing flyers with a mistyped phone number that happened to lead to a sex-talk line.

But was it truly mistyped? Take note of my observations on this phenomenon when it happened to Verizon, back in August:

Why does it seems that every time there's a wrong number in a case like this, the misdialed number always leads to a porn line? I realize it seems this way because that's the only time it gets reported in the media, but still. The crackpot conspiracy theorist in me would say that the porn outfits have cornered the market on every other toll-free number in existence, and their strategy is that they will hook unsuspecting customers every time they misdial a number. But no, that would make too much sense.

----------


 
HOW-TO HACKING
"The Shellcoder's Handbook: Discovering and Exploiting Security Holes" is a new book coming out next week. It's raising some eyebrows among computer security types, who think it's a how-to guide that'll give a whole new wave of wanna-be hackers the blueprint for busting into Windows machines.

I'm not sure the concern is warranted. What are the odds of a hacker buying and reading an actual book?

----------


 
REALITY CHECK: SUGAR RAY JOINS THE CONTENDER
When the upcoming reality-boxing show The Contender was announced last month, mastermind producer Mark Burnett lamented:

"We're looking to reclaim a part of America that's been missing," ["Survivor" creator Mark] Burnett tells Variety. "Where are the 'Thrilla in Manilas?' The Sugar Ray Leonards?

Sugar Ray listened, and has agreed to join the show as one of its stars, serving as a trainer and business advisor. So it'll be him, a real fighter, and Sylvester Stallone, who played one on the silver screen.

(By the way, the accompanying photo on the Zap2It.com article is obviously not a headshot of Sugar Ray--unless he's changed a lot recently; it's of Burnett. Here's a nice photo of Sugar Ray.)

I just hope Sugar isn't thinking about using this gig as an opportunity to make yet another comeback. Then again, that would certainly spice things up: Sugar looking over the palookas, shaking his head, and declaring, "I can whip all your asses, I'm in it to win it now!" (I know, I know, in my dreams...)

----------


Monday, March 15, 2004


 
SEE YOU AT THE CROSSROADS
Gobs of information was set loose today in The State of the News Media 2004 report (which includes a great chart-generating section). Not that all of it is good news: The news business is at a crossroads where media outlets are splintering along several lines, while general trust in the traditional industry is eroding. This is reflected in job cutbacks at traditional media outlets, just at the time when more journalists are probably necessary to verify and follow up on news data:

Much of the new investment in journalism goes toward distributing the news, not gathering it, the study said. Newspapers have about 2,200 fewer newsroom employees today than in 1990, and network TV news has cuts its correspondents by a third since the 1980s.

As a journalist, what can I say? The same skills that go into professional journalism can be applied to a number of other fields that are way more lucrative: Public relations, advertising, corporate communications, financial analysis, etc. I know several people who've gone into those fields after becoming disenchanted with news, for a variety of reasons. And the resulting vacuum has to be filled by the people who are left, who are then stretched thin and can't do as thorough a job as otherwise possible. This isn't a new trend; it's been that way for the past couple of decades, at least.

The fact remains that you have to be a little crazy, and a lot dedicated, to make a go at journalism as a profession. There are certainly easier ways to earn a paycheck, and generally a bigger one (although you're never going to get rich working for someone else; that's the case in just about any industry).

More on this from me later, probably.

----------


 
WHY BEAR WHEN YOU CAN ROLL?
More Ybor fun:

The obnoxious sidewalk preachers are a common sight in Tampa's party district. With Spring Break starting up, some churches figure that the Lord's message might have a better chance of sinking in with the kids if it's coming from their peers. So this past Saturday, there was probably a dozen or so youth ministry kids trolling up and down 7th Avenue, all smiles and wearing brilliant white t-shirts with the name of their church group (I don't remember the name; I was stone sober, honest).

Instead of following the usual preachers' example of reading loudly from the Bible to no one in particular, these kids had a special gimmick: a group of three or four of them would group together, with one tugging a large cross on his shoulder Jesus-style (thus literally having a cross to bear), while the rest would ask passerbys if they wanted to take a "The Passion of the Christ" quiz. It was clever, although I don't think I saw one person take the bait (then again, I wasn't keeping track of them all night, but I did see them several times while they did their back-and-forth).

When I was getting set to leave, I caught one last look at one of these cross-bearing troupes, heading in the opposite direction. They had this 40ish drunk guy tailing them, laughing with them and excitedly shouting. As I got closer, I could see the drunk was pointing wildly down at the foot of the prop cross. I looked down to where he was pointing...

And saw that there was a wheelie roller screwed to the bottom of the cross.

So it turned out that these intrepid youths were actually rolling their crosses up and down the street. Understandable, in that there's no sense in putting their cross (and themselves) through needless wear-and-tear, as they probably use it every week. Comical, as it sort of lessens the overall impact. Jesus still wept, I'm sure.

I can't believe I didn't notice that little detail before; but as is often the case in life, a drunk showed us the way. I have a feeling the other crosses had some sort of covering over the base to hide the little wheel.

----------


 
CLUB CZAR
I spent a small part of Saturday night at Club Czar in Ybor City. It's an attempt at a Soviet-theme bar, with the main attempt coming from having club employees stroll around in Red Army/Poliburo-style costumes (with an occasional guy-in-a-nun-habit thrown in for variety).

Although I've never met them, I have a hunch that this would be the kind of bar that the people at Grammarporn would totally dig.

In any case, it was pretty dead, despite the recent completion of a St. Patrick's Day night parade and the midnight-ish hour. The music was okay, basically a selection of '80s New Wave B-sides, which I guess is standard fare for a Saturday night (and probably every night, with a little variation). I find it funny that Czar likes to brag about all the different kinds of vodka it has--again, part of the Soviet decor--yet they didn't have the Smirnoff I ordered (I settled for Stoli instead).

----------


 
MCDONALD'S WI-FI: DEAD ON ARRIVAL?
wi-fry
There's an interestingly-crafted article at CNET, by Richard Shim, on the current status of McDonald's proposed wi-fi hotspot offerings in its restaurants. It starts out with a field test:

Signs at a McDonald's in downtown San Francisco cordially beckon customers to surf the Web using its wireless Internet service, but no one is biting during a recent Wednesday lunch hour.

In fact, none of the 20-odd patrons scattered about the restaurant's two dining areas appears to have a laptop computer or wireless PDA on hand. A few peer over newspapers, while others talk quietly or stare out the window over trays of french fries and hamburgers.

The scene is typical, says supervisor Margie deGroot, whose restaurant near Market and Second streets became, last year, one of the first McDonald's in the country to offer wireless Net access to customers: "Why would these customers use this service when they can go back to their offices to use their computers?" she says.

So based on this opening, you'd think the rest of the story would continue to underline how iffy the prospects are for McDonald's wi-fi offering.

But inexplicably, the rest of the article goes on to tout the rosy promise of charge-per-session hotspots, hinting at established setups at other restaurants like Starbucks. It feels like a clumsy grafting; I almost suspect that the editor decided to stick the San Francisco episode at the top so that it could then be quickly dismissed. It's a clumsy attempt at spinning this into a positive, despite very little to base that on (other than the usual analyst remarks). The 6 percent figure for Schlotzky's customers who find the hotspot a compelling reason to visit is more disheartening than encouraging; 6 percent is nothing, hardly worth considering.

I still maintain, as I did a year ago, that it's a weak idea for a place like McDonald's. No one wants to hang out in a McDonald's, Web access or not. The store manager in San Fran summed it up perfectly: Why would somebody on their lunch break want to pay for wireless access when they could more comfortably do it for free at work (assuming that the risk for getting chewed out, or even fired, for goofing off on the Web in the office is "free")? It's a good idea to target road-warrior types who would actually have need to utilize this kind of access point; but those types would more readily opt for a Starbucks instead. I see this effort dying within two years.

----------


 
DRIZZMAL
drizzie in the hizzie
So dreary was this day, with its perpetually overcast sky and lazy rainfall, that I've coined a new phrase to describe the environment: Drizzmal. Dismal and drizzly. Drizzmal.

Hey, I admit it's no nuculer, but what can you expect on such a downer day?

----------


 
"NUCULER" REACTION
nuculer activity
The President's been a pretty reliable source for comic fodder with his commonly-acknowledged mispronounciation of the word "nuclear". But is he really flubbing it? Maybe not, since both "noo-clee-ar" and "new-cew-lar" are so frequently used that both versions are gaining currency.

What can I say but, "That's My Bush!"

Language is evolutionary, of course. And nothing accelerates that evolution more than what comes out of the mouths of prominent personages, Presidential or otherwise. So Bush is probably helping the much-disparaged pronounciation become more acceptable.

I have to admit that I sometimes slip up and use the "nuculer" version. I think the real reason for it is the frequent use of the shorthand "nuke", most often used as slang for cooking something in a microwave. The "noo" sound in "nuke" seems to lend itself more to being followed by another "oo" syllable. I'm just going by my own instincts on that; I don't know if there's any real linguistic basis to it.

----------


Sunday, March 14, 2004


 
GEORGE MICHAEL "RETIRES"
George Michael has decided to wake us up before he go-goes by declaring that he's likely retiring from the music business--which is not to say that he's retiring from music:

He revealed: "I think (‘Patience’) is going to be my last commercially promoted release. I’ve been very well remunerated as they say for my talents over the years so I really don’t need the public’s money. I’d really like to have something on the Internet with charitable donation optional, where anyone can download my music for free. I’ll have my favourite charities up there and people will hopefully contribute to that."

I'm sure this will make Michael an instant hero to the legion of dedicated fileswapping mavens, who'll tout him as a model for how music should be created and distributed in the Internet age. Of course, considering that Michael wouldn't be doing this if he hadn't already made a comfortable pile of money over the years, it's a bit of a hollow example. Plus, he had other, more personal reasons for doing this:

He explained the move would also help him reduce his profile, and so media intrusion. "I’m not pretending I won’t be famous any more, but believe me, in the modern world, if you take yourself out of the financial aspect of things, i.e. you’re not making anybody any money or you’re not losing anybody any money, believe me I’ll be of very little interest to the press in a certain number of years."

I could make a crack about most of the world, the press and beyond, considering Michael to already be, effectively retired for a few years now. But I won't.

----------