Gingi, Interrupted

I have decided to move my humble webl from LiveJournal to WordPress. After careful thought, I have resolved to take the plunge into Web 2.0. LJ seems to lag a bit behind. It's so... 2004. My main issues are that it has limited support for RSS and Technorati tags, and the interface is just a tad clunky and restrictive. I now manage the new blog out of my own site. Phasing out LJ is a bit painstaking, so it will still be a while. I have already transferred my previous entries, but I have yet to import all the comments. There are some other blogging alternatives, but I really like WordPress. You can run it on your own site, or get a free (and, yes, fully-featured) WordPress account. It is snappy and extensible, from the user interface to authoring tools. I have also already posted some new entries on it. So farewell, LiveJournal, and thanks for all the fish.

Ever notice that Mercedes cars operate in a different physical dimension? I have a sneaking suspicion that those ingenious German automakers have installed some kind of paranormal module in the chasse, a flux capacitor of sorts. Okay, okay, I'm getting all conspiratorial here, but let's consider this for a moment.

The Mercedes can create, ex nihilo — as if by spontaneous combustion, parking spots. A parking lot may have twenty spots per aisle, but the resourceful Benz driver will create a twenty-first space. And right across from the Starbucks or, more appropriately, Morton's Steakhouse. Mysteriously, they never create spots on the far side of the lot. Additionally, these newly-fashioned spots are usually two cars in length, so as to prevent other well-to-dos from interfering with their mystical creation. Fascinating. Indeed, some may argue that these omnipotent vehicles are higher deities.

A Mercedes, equipped with a "fluxury" capacitor (like that?), can travel through time. I have discerned a consistent time shift between traffic signals and the reaction of these opulent entities. When a traffic light turns green, it's usually a good 5 seconds, give or take, before the car starts moving. Strange. Conversely, when a traffic light turns red, it's about the same time &mdash 5 seconds, give or take — before a Mercedes even appears to react, i.e. stop. Crossing traffic may have already released the brake pedal (the non-Mercedes species among them, at least). Yet, magically, Mercedeses have that cushion of time. They just gracefully glide through the intersection. For us lesser beings that's called "running a red light." But, really, for a Mercedes it's just a time shift. Everything just slides forward 5 seconds, give or take.

Signaling. Or lack thereof. Okay, this is where my theory falls apart a bit. I think those Germans have a slight flaw in the design of their device. But I bet the module is supposed to signal telepathically to other motorists when a Mercedes intends to turn or change lanes, as opposed to relying on antiquated visual cues. Obviously, they have decided not to install the more traditional directional signal you'd find in earthly cars. I've just never seen a Mercedes signal. Anyway, I'm sure this component is in alpha and that they're working on getting an operational product out on the road soon.

Although it is evident that the Mercedes defies laws of physics, it can also suspend civic laws. Have you ever seen a Benz pulled over by a state trooper? I haven't. If you have, it must have been a mistake. I'm sure the offending officer is right now on leave without pay. These cars can travel at whole-number multiples of the current speed limit, use the H.O.V. lane with no passengers, or conduct captivating cell phone conversations, hands...ful. And at all times confident that no one dares pull them over.

Indeed, the Mercedes seems protected by a police-repellant shell. Could be that the fluxury capacitor renders the car invisible to police. The glitzy aura of the Mercedes is certainly visible to earthly motorists (doesn't it just seem to exude a sense of luxury and self-entitlement?). Perhaps the module just emits some hallucinogenic spray that stuns police patrols. I'm certainly not going to try to guess at the engineering marvel behind this feature.

So yes, I'm pretty convinced of this theory, its various flaws notwithstanding. Now, I don't want to deny other car makers of any due credit. I'm pretty sure that attempts have been made to install this enigmatic device in BMWs, Lexuses, Jaguars, Range Rovers, and other affluent cars. But none of them does it so impeccably, on virtually all of its cars.

In all honesty, some may interpret my sentiments as class envy. I just think it's a misplaced cardinal sin. A more appropriate characterization may be class wrath.

Recently I picked up a copy of Charles Darwin's masterpiece, "The Origin of Species." After all, it is hailed as one of the greatest turning points in science, if not biology. It essentially lays the basis for a lot of my own personal work in genomics. Right now, I'm about halfway through the book. Interesting read so far.

While away on a genetics conference last week, I was ambling around the San Diego Zoo. I walked by elaborate monkey and gorilla exhibits. Then I made an interesting observation. It may sound a bit obvious to some, but I never gave it much thought before. How is it that we, humans, are functionally so different than any other species that roams the earth? Genetically, we're fairly close to apes. In fact, chimps are purportedly closer to Homo sapiens than they are to any other species. Yet, phenotypically — examining our own physical traits and expressions — there is not a single species that is even remotely like us.

Anthropologists have an answer to this supposed quagmire. We developed opposable thumbs as well as a language, and that sets us apart from other creatures. These traits have put us on a trajectory to intelligence and technology. In addition, the fossil record indicates the existence of other homonids (Homo erectus, Homo habilis, etc.), but they are now extinct. While a valid answer, my question is: why are these other homonids extinct? According to Darwin, a favorable trait that is naturally selected will likely be expressed in close varieties of the species where that trait originated. Why is it, then, that no other existing animal species have opposable thumbs or a well-developed language? Why are there no intermediate species between chimps and humans, who might have opposable thumbs, but speak very poor English? Why haven't other species developed, or at least borrowed from humans, tools for hunting, rummaging, fighting? If Darwin's conjecture is correct, then there should be other human "varieties" roaming the planet.

It just strikes me as odd that, given the success of our species and the existence of countless other species, there aren't any close runners-up. No other species seems to have a conscious drive to excel like we do. The gorillas and the bonobos seem quite content in the little habitat the San Diego Zoo has carved out for them.

But these are just some points I'm pondering over as I'm reading the rest of "Origin." After doing a bit of digging on the 'net, it seems that Darwin's follow-up, "Descent of Man," might specifically address this question.

I've got a tiff with Apple, Inc. I am admittedly a big fan, so I won't condemn the whole juggernaut. It's their notorious customer service department that has me proverbially shaking my fists.

Last week, after a 45 day trial of iWork '05, the almost-drop-in replacement for Microsoft Office, I decided to shell out 49 educational dollars for a license. Then two days ago Steve announces, among others, the release of iWork '06. With zealous anticipation, I open Keynote and look for the "Check for Updates..." menu item. But no such item exists. Strange. I then go on the iWork website and search for the Upgrade link. No dice. It then begins to dawn on me that I might have to purchase iWork '06 separately.

I read all their refund and upgrade policies, and find, to my chagrin, that although Apple offers a full refund for unopened software boxes that have been received within the last 14 days, they offer no refunds for software licenses or software downloads. They also have some 10 day price reduction guarantee. But in my case, the software has been licensed over the last 10 days (and hardly used). I feel gipped.

I called them up and after being shuffled between 3 representatives, got on the line with someone senior enough to conduct a heated argument that featured musings on the information age, an analysis of network bandwidth, and a dispute over the definition of corporate loyalty.

While their argument rested on technical minutiae, I waxed philosophical. They maintained that the policy clearly states that software downloads, including licenses, are nonrefundable. They further stated that there is no way for them to revoke the license key for the older version. When I asked them what good it would be to run the older version when I have the new version, they expressed their concern that I would just give the old license to someone else.

We then got into a diatribe over software versions. I ignorantly purchased iWork '05 with the understanding that, while its functionality is quite limited related to MS Office, I'll be readily able to upgrade when the new version comes out. I really like the interface and Cocoa integration, so the functional flaws didn't bother me that much. But they subscribe to a different philosophy. iWork '06, which they repeatedly referred to as iLife '06, is a completely separate product than iWork '05 -- or, as they referred to, iLife '05.

But I wouldn't let the truth get in the way. I saw that I had to take a different approach. So I invoked an economic argument. Are they really losing out, I reasoned, by sending me software? It's not like hardware which they would have to restock. It's just bits of 0s and 1s. I told them I refuse to pay for iWork '06. So they're not losing any money. In fact, by winning their argument they're only losing a loyal customer. I told them that I sing the Apple tune to my friends and family, and urge them to buy Apple products. And now, all I will do is qualify my Apple endorsements with "... but their customer service ain't worth a braes farthing."

Besides a $20 discount on the next purchase, which I told them to keep, they would not budge. In all seriousness, I can understand their position. They have an SOP and they stick to it. But a reputable company like Apple needs to incorporate some accommodation into their customer service procedures. A customer service department is, though on an individual level, the company's public face. I know better than to judge Apple based on this experience, but I'll be sure to think twice next time I'd like to purchase a frozen version of their software.

The HD-DVD demo during Bill Gates's keynote speech proves one thing: Microsoft just doesn't get it.

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Need I say more?

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The Toyota Prius - Gasoline-electric hybrid vehicles can serve as a UPS (Uninterruptible Power Supply) for your house. The Prius, unlike the generator, also has a battery that provides instant, UPS-like power, to your house.

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Now this is "the life"....

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A funny, tongue-in-cheek site that appraises just how Web-2.0-compliant a website truly is. If you wanna jump on the Web 2.0 bandwagon, you can start by developing your website with Ruby on Rails, using the Google Maps API, and, oh yeah, referencing Digg.com.

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There it is, quaintly situated on my Powerbook between the FireWire port and the S-Video port. Normally, it just chugs along, shuttling several million packets of data back and forth every minute. Business as usual. But until yesterday I just took my beloved ethernet port for granted. In fact, I really haven't used it that much in the past year. Wireless internet is simply pervading the troposphere, making ethernet for personal computing almost obsolete. Ethernet is still markedly faster, but the convenience of wirelessness seems to be the fait accompli for many.

Nevertheless, when I sit at my desk, either at work or at home, I plug in. There's something visceral about it. Wireless is just voodoo magic. You can study all the electromagnetic theories and radiophysics you want, there's still that tiniest skip of faith that your notebook is connected. But when you plug in that ethernet cable, you just know. You're part of the network topology, the internet cloud.

I haven't given it this much thought until yesterday. Yesterday. The unthinkable. I did what my own dad warned me against since I was ten. "Do not eat near the computer," he'd pontificate. I tried to respond but I was frankly too busy picking off a nice piece of crumb cake. And here I was, yesterday morning, sipping my coffee, doing my work, when, with a slapdash sleight of my hand, I knocked the mug over. I was able to react before the mug's side wall made landfall, but a few dollops of burnt coffee have safely touched down on the shiny silver of my Powerbook. With my right hand stabilizing the mug from further liquidation, I yanked the Powerbook with my left hand away from the rancid brown pool, as an army helicopter might evacuate soldiers from an ambush. And all this in a matter of 0.5 seconds. I quickly wiped off the Powerbook with a paper towel, and even turned it over for about 5 minutes with the lid open so that any moisture that made it in might mercifully decide to escape. But I did not turn off the computer, as I found later to be the standard procedure for such dire emergency.

I wanted to kick myself but awkwardly found the task a non sequitur as I am not as doubly-jointed as I used to think I was. But several minutes after my flimsy attempt at triage, I found everything to be working and back to normal. At least everything I took notice to. I connected the ethernet cable to the Powerbook, and the Powerbook was connected, and I saw that it was good. And I rested.

Later in the evening my wireless connection timed out, as it usually does on a random occasion. That is when I noticed that something was awfully wrong. I lost the internet. I restarted the router, thereby restoring the wireless connection. But now I was curious. The built-in ethernet should have been on all along. And it wasn't. Also, the ethernet indicator on the router was off. I tried running some diagnostics on the notebook, but they insisted that the ethernet cable was not connected. I plugged in the other Powerbook, and got a connection. The ethernet indicator lit up. That's when I put two and two together. I suspected that when I initially connected the ethernet cable after the spill, it was still the AirPort that connected me to the internet. I instinctively began sniffing around the right side of the notebook, the site of the ethernet port and the site of what-my-pontiff-dad-would-call the crime. And there was this slightest bit of a burning smell near or around the port. Just to make sure, I smelled the other side, and it smelled like fresh notebook casing. But then I didn't know if it's the smell of a kaput ethernet port or of burnt French roast. I rebooted the computer, just to ensure it's not some software malfunction that's easily correctable. Still, no dice.

I searched online and found some individuals and their horror stories about spilling coffee on their Macs. They tried to get their machines repaired but wound up having to shell out a boatload of shekels to replace parts. Things started looking bleak for me.

I started panicking. I shut the computer down and tried to distract myself with other diversions (eating, cleaning, tending to wife). Meanwhile, I went through the classical stages of post-trauma. I wanted to wake up to the pre-spill world. I kept on reminiscing on how wonderful things have been. How whole my Powerbook was. What an integral part the trusty ethernet port could have potentially played in the singularity of the Powerbook. Then I started accepting that I haven't really used the ethernet port and I could live without it. It was a hard fact, but one I was ready to accept.

An hour later, I turned the computer back on and connected the ethernet cable (when dealing with trauma, you can always return to denial). And, as if a miracle from heaven, the ethernet indicator on the router went on, shining more brightly than the fire of a thousand suns. I turned off the AirPort off just to make sure I had an ethernet connection. I did. I did have a connection. I stopped short of pinching myself. I jumped up with glee. Reunited with my ethernet port and the oneness of the Powerbook. Like Dorothy after she finds Toto. And now I'll never let anyone hurt my poor little ethernet port. I'll love it and care for it. I promise.

I don't really know exactly what happened. Frankly, I don't want to. Well, I do, but it probably isn't worth the effort. I have no idea if the nearby ports have been affected, I don't really use them (I should be using the FireWire port, I know). I told myself yesterday that I'll swear off coffee because of the incident. But now life's back to normal. We can all move on. And since nothing happened, I'm still sipping coffee from the same mug while typing this. Some things will never change.