Denniblog

(cross-posted to LJ)

I’ve ranted about Google’s intent at world domination before, and now Cory Doctorow has written a story about it (CC licenced, natch). It’s called ‘Scroogled’, and I quite like it, because it’s written from an insider perspective rather than being a paranoid account of Geek-Mages Conspiring To Do Evil, which I would probably have ended up writing.

In his Wall Street interview, Cory is defensive about Google, and he has a point. It’s difficult not to love them. Or as he put it succinctly: “I think one of the most heartbreaking things that any of us can live through is for an institution that we love to change in a way that makes us hate it…”.

There is no mention of China in that interview (although there is in the story). Of course Google are far from the only offenders in this regard. But they are the most heartbreaking.

Anyway, this wasn’t meant to be just another review of the story. Through one of my blogs’ referrer trackers, I’ve come across a site which is now the new homepage for my browser. You see, the name ‘Scroogle’ is real. Scroogle allows you to search Google anonymously, by taking cookies into their own servers, trashing them and deleting logs within 48 hours.

I’ve already set my browser to delete cookies after each session, but not only is that inconvenient, it’s probably not enough. So initiatives like Scroogle are to be welcomed.

Naturally, Microsoft doesn’t like it. So get Firefox or—better still—install Ubuntu on your machine (I’m due for an upgrade soon).

Google didn’t like it either at first (2003). But Scroogle seems to have resurfaced unscathed and is attracting quite a bit of attention this year. Just try Scroogling Scroogle for Google 😉

Virtual communities have been touted since the early nineties, but I expected that they went out with the VR hype back then. Not so. A sort-of hybrid virtual ‘world’, Second Life, has braved it out since 2003 and its popularity is about to explode. SL has been in the headlines lately, because its currency is exchangable with US$—a real economy in a virtual world—and it is the setting not just for real businesses and jobs, but also for real scams. Besides, a lot of real-life companies set up shop there, including IBM with its secret island headquarters to name but one example.

In short, everyone’s doing it and as one SF writer put it: ‘go there—it’s where you find your audience now’. So I did, assuming the ridiculous name of Kila Kovacs (in my defense: Kila’s a character in ‘The Centuries Summer’ and Kovacs is one from a limited list of surnames on offer). But am I a citizen of Second Life now? Hell, no.

In a throwback almost to the nineties, the site insists on installing software on my computer. As if that is not bad enough (I mean, how do I play on the road/by mobile phone, eh? Riddle me that! It’s the twenty-first century, people), the thing then promptly throws a fit because I don’t have 32 bit screen colour and shuts itself down.

How come that I can watch the promotional videos and high res graphics just fine, but when it comes to playing, it’s a no-no?

Right now, they like me to have at least an 800Hz processor and 256 MB RAM, which I do, but only just. This machine (upgraded) is 3-4 years old, the computer next to it (our old Linux box) 8 or 9. Some of the internet café machines I saw in Asia were older. Our (landlord’s) washing machine dates from 1990 and has just been fixed. I believe in making things last. With the speed with which these people upgrade their software, would I need a new computer by Christmas? And how is that ‘democratic’? Can only the rich kids play? Plus see above: I’d like to play on-line and on the road, please.

So, SL is a non-starter and the virtual universe currently only exists in my head. But at least I can have sleek blue-black fur, swim with the dolphins or float in a castle made of clouds whenever I want. And, come to think of it, one life is enough. I still prefer feeling the sun on my skin to imagining it.

So there.

This is a cross-posting from my LJ writer’s blog

You may have noted that I tend to write ‘café’, rather than
‘cafe’. Writing HTML or TeX documents with accents or umlaute is a
pain, but there’s a handy list of special characters
and you’ll find that it’s amazingly easy, once you get used to it.

But some people don’t see why they should get used to it.

I can see the point with regard to fully anglicised words. A
coffeeshop is now known as a cafe, and why should it have a French
accent? But I still write ‘café’, maybe because my own
language has taught me the use of proper accents and umlaute.

However, this isn’t all. There are increasing cases of outright
language fascism where words are written without the right
spelling—which can change their meaning and does change the way they
sound. Recently, a member of the rasfic group asked for a
German translation of a word and then ranted that she never bothers
with umlaute. Charles Stross has written at least one book (‘The
Iron Sunrise’) which omits umlaute for his deliciously OTT
‘Über’ villains—a book, which I presume has passed across the
desk of an editor, and which I’m almost certain will be translated
into German. Not that editors are immune from language fascism or
that ignorance is a valid excuse. The editor of the 2004 ‘Waitrose
Food Illustrated’ Christmas edition (which is part of my foodie
magazine collection) clearly struggled with his conscience before
deciding to allow the ‘ø’ into ‘Stykkishølmur’ in a
feature about the Icelandic town. He dedicated his entire editorial
to it (‘…where the hell do you find it on the keyboard? I have to admit that I was flummoxed and called for Technical Support.’ Oh, purleeze. Is it a wonder nobody wants to man
the helpdesks?) Not satisfied with that, he continued to rant that
he didn’t have a clue about how to pronounce it. Is it helpful if I
say that ø sound a little but like ö?

Out with language fascism. It should be a requirement for all
English speakers to learn at least one foreign language from
primary school. Perhaps, that way they would also learn respect
for other languages

(Only 877 words yesterday, but on the Zaurus on a crowded train!)

It turns out that I can have more than 15 categories (why 15? Well, Yahoo allows 15 folders, so I thought a similar limit exists on BNA Travelblogs—it doesn’t). In fact, I can have one category for each country, as well as various for rants, such as computing. I’m therefore going to reorganise the blog a bit. Yes, I’m bored 🙂

I love the new blogs, BTW, but they do take a bit of getting used to. Ever tried changing the ‘time stamp’ to move older posts into sequence? Sheesh…

This is a brief announcement by way of explaining why I may not post much until the beginning of December. An excerpt from my Lifejournal (writing blog) follows:

NaNoWriMo is about trying to write a novel—in a month. Actually, it is more about starting a new project and seeing it through to 50k words. I think that is great, and with the momentum gained during NaNo, the project should sail all the way to novel-length.

Alas, that hasn’t happened. After editing my last year’s effort, ‘Echoes of Creation’, it now stands at 58k words, and I’m through with it. Not enough depth and the characters are milling around aimlessly.

So, this year I’m entering with a work in progress which I want to turn into a saleable novel. In fact, I want the first draft ready for workshopping by spring and I want the whole thing ready for shopping around agents at Nipponcon!

To this purpose, I envoke The Zokutou Clause!

And until the start, on November 1st, this is the state of affairs:

13,861 / 85,000 (16.0%)

The NaNo total is actually 63,861 words. 85k is the novel total—the minimum wordcount required for an SF novel by most publishers.

Follow my progress on my LJ

I can’t stand it. The first thing I heard on the radio this morning was some sqeaky American slurring that coconut milk, drunk from a coconut, is the latest trend in New York.

“Eh, like yeah, you know, the ultimate sports drink. It’s all natural, ya know…”

No kidding.

I’ve decided to rain on their parade. I can’t stand the thought of up-their-own-ass-trendy New Yorkers posing with a goddamn coconut.

Coconut juice is rich, and I’ve always considered it as a meal in itself. My first look confirmed that coconut milk contains 552 calories and 57.2 g fat, mainly saturated. But these silly New Yorkers are talking about coconut water, even though they don’t call it that. This is much better at 46 calories and 1% fat per cup. And 6.3 g sugars.

I’ve got to hand it to them, as distatefull the thought of coconut-slurping New Yorkers posing in the latest jogging gear, i-pods sticking out from their asses, makes me feel, I’m not saying that it doesn’t work.

Quote from The Whales of Trincomalee:

‘I was exhausted from all the walking and activity of the day and the unrelenting rain was sapping my energy. I was also dehydrated, my water bottles had been empty since rowing back across the lagoon. So I drank the coconut juice. It left me instantly refreshed and re-charged. It was sweet, hence contained energy, along with vitamins and minerals. It struck me that this was the perfect sports-drink.’

Do you remember the old joke about the swing designed by a committee? It ends up with the swing dangling in the centre of a tree with the trunk suspended above it by scaffolding.

All the customer wanted was an old tire, tied to a branch with a piece of string.

You get the picture—the Coleman Epsilon 2 is a tent designed by a committee.

Yes, I am biassed. In my opinion, nothing stands up to the free-standing dome design. But I can accept that a more aerodynamic shape might be useful in cold conditions and that weight could be a consideration. The CE2 is about 400g lighter than my old Salewa Nevada (no longer manufactured).

However, it takes over a dozen pegs to secure. Free-standing it isn’t. Perhaps the manufacturers should not have stinged with a rigid central pole. The system of buckles which have to be tightened around the corners had me scratch my head.

Today is a beautiful July afternoon in Tadley, not a breeze stirs the air, and I took my time erecting the tent. It still took me a good while and I’m covered in nettlestings and spiderwebs after crawling through the bushes around the edges of our lawn to find suitable spots for putting the pegs. The skewed ropes indicate that I did not always succeed.

This is not a tent for camping on sanddunes or beaches, concrete patches or ice.

Saying that, the ventilation cannot be faulted.

I’ll have to see how chilly this gets when the wind blows. Sitting up inside almost inevitably means brushing against the outer sheet and again I will have to see how waterproof this thing is in a monsoon deluge or Scottish perma-drizzle. I may be a little unfair, but the Salewa Nevada is a hell of a tough act to follow.

The Bank of Scotland is driving me crazy.

When I registered for online banking (essential for overseas travel), they failed to provide me with a username—presumably because I’m not a BT Broadband/Internet Explorer clone.

Two months later, I went to a local branch to investigate from where I ended up having to phone a helpdesk. But I got my username. The password arrived by mail three days later.

However, I can’t sign in. I reckon they haven’t given me the right details, so I tried to get them restored by following the ‘forgotten your password/username’ link, but was informed that my access was suspended and given another help desk number.

The phone advise was to go online and follow the ‘forgotten your password/username’ link.

Until I get through to a flesh-and-blood human, I will not be able join the enlightened world of internet banking. It leaves me feeling emasculated.

Flash-back to the year 1995. I have just set up my first website. I’ve been a member of the BioNet newsgroups for some time (they looked nothing like that back then) and one of the moderators asked around for ideas of how to raise money via their newly minted internet website.

I told him to display advertisements. He thanked me.

The internet, I realise, could make the world our oyster. It would make my wildest dreams possible. It would bring the world’s biggest library to our homes. It meant that, one day, we’d be banking in our payamas.

Someone would make a lot of money from this.

I walked into my bank. There on the desk were a few new terminals.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Oh,” the teller smiled: “It means you can carry out some of your transactions at a terminal without having to talk to someone. It’ll make our work more straightforward and will reduce queing times.”

“How silly,” I smiled condescendingly. “Don’t you realise that we will soon be able to do all this from our homes?”

If only.

I mulled it over and thought that, yes, perhaps I should obtain British citizenship before our 20th wedding anniversary.

BUT…

…not only would I still have to swear allegience to the Queen (what is the point of a monarchy in the modern age??), I would also have to pass an English test and—get this—a test of ‘Life in the UK’!

You should think that they make things a bit easier after twenty years of residence, nearly fifteen of which have been spent as a student and academic.

I must confess I still haven’t booked my flights to Prague, but this is because I’d rather book our flights to Morocco first, as soon as possible, in fact.

This year, Eid falls on New Years Eve—and we are invited to the party!

However, I’ve got to get Dave to email me the dates! We need to travel between Christmas and New Year and there won’t be many cheap flights available. Even going via Gibraltar may be expensive, although it will offer dolphin-watching opportunities.

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In other news, I’m currently working on a story concerning the fate of a mouse with a ‘humanised’ brain. A pioneer in the field has recently approached his ethics committee with the proposal to replace neurons in a strain of mice where they degenerate with human-derived neuronal stem cells. These mice would be ideal models for the study of neuronic diseases, including brain cancers which this guy is especially interested in, and also for learning and cognition.

The problem is, of course, that these mice may grow brains which are ‘too human’. The researchers will keep a close eye on their brain architecture and terminate the experiments if that should happen.

We might not get a mouse with a human brain, but we might still get a ‘clever’ mouse. I don’t know, I’m still reading up on this, but it’s possible. Enter ‘Pips’.

The recent developments in the field are fascinating. I was reminded of my travels in Portugal two years ago:

‘But while there are no cookers on the campsite, there are BBQs. For a long moment I seriously considered hauling back a sack of charcoal but at the last moment I desisted, realising what a mess that would make in my tent. I played it safe by picking up some pre-cooked meat from the chiller. But even though my receipt says ‘Frango’ it isn’t, because chickens have no teeth. It turns out to be suckling pig.’

…When I saw this little gem (‘Development of teeth in chick embryos after mouse neural crest transplantations’)