Pope Francis rolled into town Tuesday afternoon, with a schedule for the subsequent two days that involved multiple events in downtown DC, so Federal bureaucrats did what we do best: panic. The guidance from OPM was to treat the event like a major snowstorm, so we did, and, by and large, stayed home. I worked from home on Wednesday, only to see Metro announce an unusually high vacancy rate in their parking garages and ridership roughly 20% below that of the previous Wednesday.
Thursday I needed to be in the office, and the Pope’s schedule, while bringing him closer to my office than the day before - addressing Congress at 9:30 a.m. -, seemed to involve fewer events for fewer people than on Wednesday, so I took my chances with Metro. Ridership was again light, and attendance at the office was again down considerably, so the day passed reasonably uneventfully, for which I was grateful.
My office overlooks Pennsylvania Avenue, so I did take a half hour to watch out the window as a small crowd gathered on the sidewalks below, anticipating the Pope’s return from the Capitol. Sure enough, flanked by more than a dozen police motorcycles, police cars, and unmarked black Chevy Suburbans, the Fiat 500 drove up the street.
In general, I have mixed feelings about telework. For Pope Days (or snow days), telework is a great way of allowing people to get work done when the alternative is taking the day off, so having the ability to work at home is great. Regular telework, though, takes people out of the office and makes interacting with colleagues more difficult. Today I had a number of instances where I needed to talk to someone and had to figure out if that person was in the office or at home and, if the latter, if it made sense to email the question, find a home number, or just wait for a more convenient time in the office. On Wednesday, I managed to get some work done, primarily by scheduling a report draft to be delivered that morning so I could edit it and provide comments by the afternoon. It’s great to avoid the time-consuming and energy-sapping commute, but I’d be hard-pressed to argue that I was more productive overall.
Yet the government is making a big push to have workers telework more. For some jobs, particularly those that do not require much personal interaction, that makes sense. For many others, however, the costs can be quite high. The benefits accrue mainly to the employees. We’re told that telework can lower costs for the agency, but it’s hard to see where. The agency has to provide more equipment (network infrastructure, portable computers rather than less-expensive desktops). The goal seems to be to reduce the number of square feet the government leases, mainly by eliminating private offices, but for that to work nearly everyone in the agency needs to be working from home most of the time. (For example, I’m told that at the Government Services Administration headquarters they’ve eliminated offices and insisted everyone work in large rooms at a random desk, with a small locker available for personal items. Most employees telework three to five days a week, allowing the agency to reduce space by more than half. In contrast, someone at my agency working at home one day a week still keeps an office, and few work at home more than one day a week, so the agency hasn’t saved anything on office space, as far as I can tell.)
I also suspect that if I had to stare at my walls and not talk to anyone for days on end I would go raving mad. Perhaps I already have and just haven’t yet noticed it.
Friday, September 25, 2015
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
Creep
On Tuesday, I had a disturbing experience on the Metro. At the Bethesda station, a pretty young thing got on and took a seat. A few stops later, a stocky young man got on, carrying a plastic beverage cup and some food in a wrapper (eating and drinking are prohibited on Metro, but some passengers choose to ignore this, apparently feeling that rules are for little people). I didn’t think of either of them until Rockville, the penultimate stop. The guy was standing in front of me as I started to pack up, and I soon realized why: he was staring directly at the girl from about three feet away. For the next few minutes, he changed positions several times but never stopped staring. Eventually, halfway to Shady Grove, the girl became sufficiently disturbed that she moved halfway down the train car and took another seat. The guy waited a few seconds and then followed her, deliberately “tripping” on her foot before taking up another position to start staring again.
Even though I wasn’t directly involved in this little episode, I was creeped out. I can only imagine how the young lady felt. She left the train with a female Metro employee, so I felt confident that she was in no immediate danger. Afterward, I regretted not having the presence of mind to use my phone camera to take a picture of the perp.
By the way, this wasn’t some 2 a.m. run: the whole incident occurred right around 4 p.m.
Hell is indeed other people.
Even though I wasn’t directly involved in this little episode, I was creeped out. I can only imagine how the young lady felt. She left the train with a female Metro employee, so I felt confident that she was in no immediate danger. Afterward, I regretted not having the presence of mind to use my phone camera to take a picture of the perp.
By the way, this wasn’t some 2 a.m. run: the whole incident occurred right around 4 p.m.
Hell is indeed other people.
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
Coexisting with Jerks
Most people one meets are reasonably nice - or fake it well. Sadly, there are exceptions, and the Internet seems to give those exceptions license to behave as badly as they can. Case in point: my friend,* Casey Liss, who is one of the three hosts of Accidental Tech Podcast. As the title suggests, the podcast is a tech show, but the guys occasionally veer off into other territory, including their personal lives. Some listeners apparently don’t like this, which is their prerogative.
Then Casey shared this particular piece of feedback - anonymous feedback, of course.
It’s a widespread phenomenon that crosses genres and political boundaries. The anonymous trolls of GamerGate. The (usually) anonymous hate mail that conservative columnists such as Michelle Malkin receive. And neither side in the Sad Puppies/Hugo Awards nonsense has distinguished itself.
Now, everyone has bad days, and I’d hate to be judged on my ugliest behavior, but I’d venture that 95% of us are decent people and, of the rest, 80% fake it well. It’s that last one percent that feels compelled to spew vile insults and generally make lives miserable.
Our anonymous jerk complains that he lost 30 minutes of his life listening to something he didn’t want to. Well, get a grip. If you know you’re going to be in a car unable to change what you’re listening to, either accept that some minutes are not going to be to your liking or find something you know you’ll like. I don’t listen to podcasts in the car for this reason; if I find a section I don’t find interesting, I’ll skip it. Instead, this guy is so annoyed at the 30 minutes he can’t get back that he wastes still more time writing a nasty comment.
Of course, one might ask why I’m wasting my time on a low-life. The answer is that I don’t like bullies, and that’s what this guy is. He’s taking advantage of the anonymity afforded by the feedback form and the fact that Casey was likely to be offended, quite rightly, at the cheap shots at his family.
This is my little reminder that we can’t do anything about people like this out there on the Internet, but we can control our own reactions to trolls. Don’t let the bastards get you down. Easy to say, hard to do, I know. This kind of crap comes with the territory, though, and the more listeners a podcast has, the more of these reactions the podcast will get. The response isn’t to eliminate feedback; feedback is useful, and polite feedback should be cherished. But vitriolic comments are just noise. Don’t pay attention to them, and don’t let them ruin your day.
-----
* Okay, he’s not really my friend, never met him, he’s just some guy with a podcast. I spend 90 minutes or more each week with these three guys, which is more time than I spend with a lot of actual people I know and like. It’s a strange world we live in. Still, Casey seems like a likable human being.
Then Casey shared this particular piece of feedback - anonymous feedback, of course.
Listening to Marco and Casey droll on and on [sic - I presume the listener meant “drone on and on,” but it’s fascinating to me how many angry people are also bad at basic communications skills] about their sh**** defective kids is the worst thing to have happen to you on a long commute where you can’t play with your phone to change the track. Worst 30 minutes of my life.Casey provides a few more choice examples of these kinds of uncalled-for comments, but the above quote is the epitome of the genre: ugly, with unnecessary profanity, and taking a cheap shot at young children, along with the general level of whininess about content.
It’s a widespread phenomenon that crosses genres and political boundaries. The anonymous trolls of GamerGate. The (usually) anonymous hate mail that conservative columnists such as Michelle Malkin receive. And neither side in the Sad Puppies/Hugo Awards nonsense has distinguished itself.
Now, everyone has bad days, and I’d hate to be judged on my ugliest behavior, but I’d venture that 95% of us are decent people and, of the rest, 80% fake it well. It’s that last one percent that feels compelled to spew vile insults and generally make lives miserable.
Why are you wasting your time on this? (Part 1)
Why are you wasting your time on this? (Part 2)
This is my little reminder that we can’t do anything about people like this out there on the Internet, but we can control our own reactions to trolls. Don’t let the bastards get you down. Easy to say, hard to do, I know. This kind of crap comes with the territory, though, and the more listeners a podcast has, the more of these reactions the podcast will get. The response isn’t to eliminate feedback; feedback is useful, and polite feedback should be cherished. But vitriolic comments are just noise. Don’t pay attention to them, and don’t let them ruin your day.
-----
* Okay, he’s not really my friend, never met him, he’s just some guy with a podcast. I spend 90 minutes or more each week with these three guys, which is more time than I spend with a lot of actual people I know and like. It’s a strange world we live in. Still, Casey seems like a likable human being.
Friday, June 12, 2015
Math is Hard
Every year at work I am required to take a refresher training course in the often-bewildering ethics rules. For two out of every three years, the training consists of certifying that I have looked at a web page. However, every third year the training is in person. This is such a year for me.
In order to keep attendees paying attention, the ethics folks organize some kind of a game. One year it was “football,” in which correct answers would move the ball some random number of yards down the field. Another year it was a version of “Who Wants to be a Millionaire?” I seem to recall a version of “The Weakest Link” as well. This year it was “Deal or No Deal.” For those who haven’t seen the game show, the key feature is that the contestant selects an object of unknown value and he or she can play for the value of the object or can take the offer of some known amount of money. The offer is usually somewhere around the mean value of the remaining objects. (As an example, if the contestant knows that his object is worth either $100 or $1000, the banker might offer $525, slightly under the mean value of the two choices.)
Frankly, my aim is to get out of the room in no more than an hour, and I don’t care about the outcome of the game. My colleagues, however, are so competitive they are constitutionally unable to help themselves. This year they even argued about some of the answers in a legalistic, hair-splitting manner. As a result, one would think everyone should be strategizing about both the answer and the bet - taking the “deal” or not.
As we got to the last two questions, my team was up by about $900 and would get the last question. All of the objects near the average value were gone - all that remained were some low-valued objects ($100, $200, and $600, if I recall correctly) and some high-valued ones (three more in the $2000 range). The “banker” offered around $1000 - enough to get ahead of my team if the other team answered the question correctly. Take the deal? There was a 50% chance that the object would be worth less than $900, and thus the team would lose regardless of whether it got the question right. There was a 50% chance the object would be worth a lot, although the team would still have to get the question right to climb ahead of my team. At that point, we’d still get a chance to answer one more question for the win, and we would know whether we’d have to roll the dice on the object in order to get enough money to win.
Taking the $1000 offer by the banker is straightforward: to win, the other team needs to answer the question and hope we blow our question. If the probability of answering correctly is 50%, then the odds of the other team winning are 25%. Rejecting the offer is more complicated. Half the time the object will be worth too little, and the team loses with certainty. Half the time the object will be worth more than enough to get ahead. Depending on the draw, we might be able to win by taking the banker’s offer and answering the question - the same odds as if the other team took the $1000 banker’s offer. The rest of the time we’d be forced to reject the banker’s offer and hope for a good outcome. We don’t know the odds of this outcome, but if we’re in that branch of the decision tree there’s some chance the other team will win regardless of how we answer the question; otherwise, it still comes down to whether we can answer the question correctly. In short, the only way this choice is better is if the odds are high the first team gets a good draw and the second team gets a bad draw from the remaining objects, because all the other possible outcomes are no better (and some are substantially worse) than just taking the banker’s offer. Yet we could all see the distribution of remaining objects, so the “first team’s draw is good, second team’s draw is bad” outcome is unlikely.
Naturally, the economist-free team rejected the banker’s offer and got an object worth $600. Game over. In the end, I’d like to think I re-learned some of the ethics rules and the other team learned a little about probability theory.
In order to keep attendees paying attention, the ethics folks organize some kind of a game. One year it was “football,” in which correct answers would move the ball some random number of yards down the field. Another year it was a version of “Who Wants to be a Millionaire?” I seem to recall a version of “The Weakest Link” as well. This year it was “Deal or No Deal.” For those who haven’t seen the game show, the key feature is that the contestant selects an object of unknown value and he or she can play for the value of the object or can take the offer of some known amount of money. The offer is usually somewhere around the mean value of the remaining objects. (As an example, if the contestant knows that his object is worth either $100 or $1000, the banker might offer $525, slightly under the mean value of the two choices.)
Frankly, my aim is to get out of the room in no more than an hour, and I don’t care about the outcome of the game. My colleagues, however, are so competitive they are constitutionally unable to help themselves. This year they even argued about some of the answers in a legalistic, hair-splitting manner. As a result, one would think everyone should be strategizing about both the answer and the bet - taking the “deal” or not.
As we got to the last two questions, my team was up by about $900 and would get the last question. All of the objects near the average value were gone - all that remained were some low-valued objects ($100, $200, and $600, if I recall correctly) and some high-valued ones (three more in the $2000 range). The “banker” offered around $1000 - enough to get ahead of my team if the other team answered the question correctly. Take the deal? There was a 50% chance that the object would be worth less than $900, and thus the team would lose regardless of whether it got the question right. There was a 50% chance the object would be worth a lot, although the team would still have to get the question right to climb ahead of my team. At that point, we’d still get a chance to answer one more question for the win, and we would know whether we’d have to roll the dice on the object in order to get enough money to win.
Taking the $1000 offer by the banker is straightforward: to win, the other team needs to answer the question and hope we blow our question. If the probability of answering correctly is 50%, then the odds of the other team winning are 25%. Rejecting the offer is more complicated. Half the time the object will be worth too little, and the team loses with certainty. Half the time the object will be worth more than enough to get ahead. Depending on the draw, we might be able to win by taking the banker’s offer and answering the question - the same odds as if the other team took the $1000 banker’s offer. The rest of the time we’d be forced to reject the banker’s offer and hope for a good outcome. We don’t know the odds of this outcome, but if we’re in that branch of the decision tree there’s some chance the other team will win regardless of how we answer the question; otherwise, it still comes down to whether we can answer the question correctly. In short, the only way this choice is better is if the odds are high the first team gets a good draw and the second team gets a bad draw from the remaining objects, because all the other possible outcomes are no better (and some are substantially worse) than just taking the banker’s offer. Yet we could all see the distribution of remaining objects, so the “first team’s draw is good, second team’s draw is bad” outcome is unlikely.
Naturally, the economist-free team rejected the banker’s offer and got an object worth $600. Game over. In the end, I’d like to think I re-learned some of the ethics rules and the other team learned a little about probability theory.
Tuesday, June 9, 2015
Farewell to Venexia and Goatswood
From Ziki Questi’s blog, I see that two photogenic role-playing sims are about to fade from the grid: Venexia and Goatswood. I never made it to Venexia, despite some good intentions, or if I did I neglected to memorialize my visit in this Journal, but I did report on my visit to Goatswood here.
Monday, June 8, 2015
A Journey to the Ninth Circle of Hell
In Dante’s Inferno, the Ninth Circle, the lowest level of Hell, is reserved for the traitors. Frank Lefravre has re-created Dante’s vision in Cocytus: the Ninth Circle of Hell. (My thanks to Inara Pey for chronicling the exhibit.) A latter-day Virgil starts by crossing a wooden bridge and then descending into the caves.
The circle has four concentric rings, starting with the Caina, named after Cain, and containing the traitors to relations.
The next circle is Antenora, after a Trojan nobleman who betrayed the city to the Greeks, and contains political traitors.
The third circle is Ptolomaea, after the governor of Jericho in the second century BC, who killed his dinner guest (and father-in-law), and is reserved for traitors to their guests.
The fourth area is named Judecca, after Judas Iscariot, and contains traitors to their benefactors. These traitors are completely encased in ice.
At the center of Hell is Satan, condemned for treachery against God. Satan stands waist-deep in ice, beating his wings but unable to escape.
Dante and Virgil escape Hell by climbing down Satan and through the center of the earth, before emerging in Purgatory. Fortunately, one need not take that particular perilous journey; a teleport is all that is needed to escape this particular Hell.
Dante’s Inferno is a popular theme in Second Life, it appears. Back in 2011 this Journal commented on such an exhibit.
The circle has four concentric rings, starting with the Caina, named after Cain, and containing the traitors to relations.
The next circle is Antenora, after a Trojan nobleman who betrayed the city to the Greeks, and contains political traitors.
The third circle is Ptolomaea, after the governor of Jericho in the second century BC, who killed his dinner guest (and father-in-law), and is reserved for traitors to their guests.
The fourth area is named Judecca, after Judas Iscariot, and contains traitors to their benefactors. These traitors are completely encased in ice.
At the center of Hell is Satan, condemned for treachery against God. Satan stands waist-deep in ice, beating his wings but unable to escape.
Dante and Virgil escape Hell by climbing down Satan and through the center of the earth, before emerging in Purgatory. Fortunately, one need not take that particular perilous journey; a teleport is all that is needed to escape this particular Hell.
Dante’s Inferno is a popular theme in Second Life, it appears. Back in 2011 this Journal commented on such an exhibit.
Thursday, June 4, 2015
Tallights
I don’t put that many miles on my car over the course of a year, but I do have a consistent weekday driving pattern to and from the nearest Metro station parking lot. It’s about 10 miles each way, usually under 20 minutes, depending on how I catch the traffic lights and how much congestion I run into. This gives me the opportunity to observe my fellow drivers in their natural habitat.
I’ve noticed some behavioral quirks among many of these drivers. First, and most irksome: far too many people sit in the left lane, often matching speeds with the car in the right lane. Most of the traffic on my route eventually turns left, but c’mon, guys, a left turn give miles down the road is no reason to move to the left lane now. These rolling road blocks are time-consuming and dangerous. Traffic builds around them and drivers become impatient. At the first sign of a passing opportunity - boom! - someone will take the chance.
A second pet peeve involves people who brake for no apparent reason. I drive a small car, and can’t see around the behemoth SUVs, pickups, and minivans ahead of me. When someone brakes, I anticipate slower traffic ahead. When someone brakes repeatedly, for no particular reason, the brake light starts to lose its ability to communicate useful information about road conditions.
I’m convinced many of the people engaged in spontaneous braking are using the brake to make small speed adjustments. Normal drivers would slow down one or two miles per hour by easing up on the gas and letting friction do its thing. Instead, I get the constant barrage of brake lights from drivers who must believe a car in motion has only two available modes, gas and brake, and stopping one activity involves starting the other.
And don’t get me started on the people yapping on the phone, texting, reading a map, reading the newspaper, performing personal grooming chores,...
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
The Hazards of a Good Walk
Tourists. God bless 'em.
I'm fortunate to be working a mere stone's throw (or within easy looting distance, for anyone who measures distances that way) of the National Mall, with its numerous museums and mostly car-free walking. Although I would take daily walks when I worked further up town, and that area gave me a more varied set of routes, it's really delightful to take 30 minutes, once or twice a day, to get out of the office and stretch my legs. Less delightful when the temperature is below 35 or above 85, but that's still a good chunk of the year to spend communing with Mother Nature - or at least zipping through the great outdoors before the office beckons. Three things put a bit of a damper on my enjoyment.
First, the drivers of cars, trucks, and, most especially, buses who don't obey traffic controls. I don't mean cruising through a light that's been yellow for a while, I mean people who refuse to believe that right turns on red are to be done *after* a stop, that "no left turn" means it, and, most importantly, that pedestrians in a crosswalk with the light have the right of way. I know it's congested, I know you're in a hurry and want to make the light, but sheesh, you're in a climate-controlled vehicle. Besides, your day would go downhill rapidly if you were involved in a pedestrian death.*
Second, bicyclists who ride, generally illegally, on sidewalks as though pedestrians don't exist. Yes, I know it's dangerous for cyclists to be on the roads with cars. When the sidewalks are largely empty, I'm all for looking the other way. When the sidewalks are choked with pedestrians, however, walk your bike or pedal very slowly. Zipping along ringing your little bell does nothing to improve safety.
Third, hordes of tourists, especially group tours, especially school groups. I have nothing against tourists: I like going places, so I know what it's like to be in a strange city trying to enjoy the sights. Furthermore, tourists spend money, which is good for the city's economy. But let's all play nicely. If you want to take a picture, I'll walk behind you. In return, don't stand on one side of the sidewalk taking a picture across the sidewalk so that I have no chance to walk behind you. (And no, I'm not walking in the street.) If you're ambling along, I'll go around you; no need to change your speed or direction. But if you're in a group of four or more, please don't spread yourself across the sidewalk so that no one can get by. If you're in a group of 20 waiting for your tour on a crowded sidewalk, please stay to one side, rather than milling across the entire sidewalk. (The Crime Museum on 7th Street is particularly bad for this.) And school groups on the Mall should take up some reasonable amount of space - let's say 95% rather than 100% of the width of the sidewalk, leaving just enough room for one crotchety middle-aged person to get by.
Ah, who am I kidding? Bad drivers are going to drive badly, some cyclists are going to ride unsafely, and tour groups are going to do whatever the heck they want to do. Some days I even remember this, and try to smile as I make my way through the throngs.
____
* Always look drivers in the eye if possible. That way you might be able to tell if one is already having a bad day and just doesn't care any more. Let that driver go.**
** The other day I was driving down the highway and passed a car that was moving a little erratically. It turned out that the driver was sobbing uncontrollably. Not good.
I'm fortunate to be working a mere stone's throw (or within easy looting distance, for anyone who measures distances that way) of the National Mall, with its numerous museums and mostly car-free walking. Although I would take daily walks when I worked further up town, and that area gave me a more varied set of routes, it's really delightful to take 30 minutes, once or twice a day, to get out of the office and stretch my legs. Less delightful when the temperature is below 35 or above 85, but that's still a good chunk of the year to spend communing with Mother Nature - or at least zipping through the great outdoors before the office beckons. Three things put a bit of a damper on my enjoyment.
First, the drivers of cars, trucks, and, most especially, buses who don't obey traffic controls. I don't mean cruising through a light that's been yellow for a while, I mean people who refuse to believe that right turns on red are to be done *after* a stop, that "no left turn" means it, and, most importantly, that pedestrians in a crosswalk with the light have the right of way. I know it's congested, I know you're in a hurry and want to make the light, but sheesh, you're in a climate-controlled vehicle. Besides, your day would go downhill rapidly if you were involved in a pedestrian death.*
Second, bicyclists who ride, generally illegally, on sidewalks as though pedestrians don't exist. Yes, I know it's dangerous for cyclists to be on the roads with cars. When the sidewalks are largely empty, I'm all for looking the other way. When the sidewalks are choked with pedestrians, however, walk your bike or pedal very slowly. Zipping along ringing your little bell does nothing to improve safety.
Third, hordes of tourists, especially group tours, especially school groups. I have nothing against tourists: I like going places, so I know what it's like to be in a strange city trying to enjoy the sights. Furthermore, tourists spend money, which is good for the city's economy. But let's all play nicely. If you want to take a picture, I'll walk behind you. In return, don't stand on one side of the sidewalk taking a picture across the sidewalk so that I have no chance to walk behind you. (And no, I'm not walking in the street.) If you're ambling along, I'll go around you; no need to change your speed or direction. But if you're in a group of four or more, please don't spread yourself across the sidewalk so that no one can get by. If you're in a group of 20 waiting for your tour on a crowded sidewalk, please stay to one side, rather than milling across the entire sidewalk. (The Crime Museum on 7th Street is particularly bad for this.) And school groups on the Mall should take up some reasonable amount of space - let's say 95% rather than 100% of the width of the sidewalk, leaving just enough room for one crotchety middle-aged person to get by.
Ah, who am I kidding? Bad drivers are going to drive badly, some cyclists are going to ride unsafely, and tour groups are going to do whatever the heck they want to do. Some days I even remember this, and try to smile as I make my way through the throngs.
____
* Always look drivers in the eye if possible. That way you might be able to tell if one is already having a bad day and just doesn't care any more. Let that driver go.**
** The other day I was driving down the highway and passed a car that was moving a little erratically. It turned out that the driver was sobbing uncontrollably. Not good.
Saturday, May 30, 2015
The Little Schoolhouse
The lot next to my spot in Caledon Mayfair now has on it a small schoolhouse. Although the building may have once housed a chapel, one look inside shows that the structure has been repurposed.
This brings back memories... not all of which are pleasant. Ah well, brave heart, Rhianon.
This brings back memories... not all of which are pleasant. Ah well, brave heart, Rhianon.
Monday, May 18, 2015
Forests and Trees
I sometimes think it must be exhausting to be a young person with liberal tendencies. So many minefields, so much to remember in order to be sufficiently sensitive.
A case in point is the most recent Accidental Tech Podcast (No. 116, "Women Aren't a Minority"). ATP has three guys in the tech industry talk about Apple news, software development, file systems, and whatever they feel like. (The start of episode 116 concerned the relative merits of raccoons versus ducks.) It's generally fun to listen to, even if I don't fully follow the technical details of some of the topics. (I was fully on top of the raccoons versus ducks discussion, I must say without false modesty.)
A big chunk of the episode was devoted to a reasonable enough question: what can the podcast do to attract more women listeners? Co-host John Siracusa acknowledged that the gender breakdown of listeners was just an educated guess. He also postulated that the best way of increasing listenership was to go after the relatively underserved market, i.e., women. I'm not sure that's true - as an obvious example, suppose there were a podcast called All Things Left-Handed, and consider whether the best way of increasing listenership was to attract a bigger share of right-handers - but there's nothing inherently wrong with trying to increase listenership, or even to target a particular demographic.
Siracusa (and co-hosts Marco Arment and Casey Liss) also get credit for rejecting the obvious suggestions, such as having women co-hosts. In their view, that would change the show sufficiently that it would be a different show. (I couldn't help but be reminded of the view of some Doctor Who fans that the next Doctor needs to be a woman. Nothing wrong with a show about a Time Lady, but it would be a different show. I suspect I will one day be on the losing side of that argument, however.)
Then the conversation devolved into the usual blather of more-sensitive-than-thou political correctness. The three hosts started discussing whether they should reject advertisements about products that are targeted toward men, such as Harry's razors. (My reaction to that: I don't drink beer, but I still watch the Super Bowl and even manage to enjoy some of the better beer ads.) They then discussed whether ad reads should be more "gender inclusive." My eyes rolled and I could feel my fingers twitch toward the fast-forward button.
The final straw was when a listener complained that the hosts of the podcast should not presume to "speak for all women." That's the kind of bullshit statement that makes me stop taking a topic seriously. To give Arment, Liss, and Siracusa credit, they never came close to suggesting that they spoke for any women, much less all of them. However, even acknowledging the comment cheapened the discussion to the point where I had to fast-forward until the segment was, mercifully, over.
I don't think I'm out of the mainstream when I make the following statements:
1. Criticizing a female or minority politician's policies is not misogynistic or racist. (It *is*, however, beyond the pale to suggest that a female candidate is a "serious" candidate only because of her gender, as Washington Post columnist wrote about former H-P CEO Carly Fiorina.)
2. Stating an opinion generally carries with it the implication that the opinion is that of the speaker, and not of an entire group of people, such as an entire gender. If the speaker prefaces the remark with "all [group] believe," then the foregoing statement does not apply.
3. A man who states an opinion is not "mansplaining." A statement can be condescending in either words or tone, but, without more information, I will take statements at their face value.
Relatedly, the idea that groups of individuals are, collectively, fragile flowers that need special protections from the mean world, is itself an insulting one deserving of mockery. The feminists in the UK who needed "safe spaces" and found that clapping was alarming and therefore suggested the use of "jazz hands" to indicate appreciation were deserving of mockery. Campus liberals who demand "safe spaces" when conservatives speak on campus or the school screens the movie "American Sniper" are deserving of mockery. The First Lady, who recently said that blacks don't go to museums because they don't "feel welcome," is most certainly deserving of mockery. (Has she ever been to the Smithsonian museums on the Mall in Washington? Lots of minorities, many of whom are children, don't seem to feel that they're not welcome.) Back in the real world, your boss might give you a bad performance review, or a peer might object to your ideas. Some people may react poorly to criticism, but it is insulting to think that entire *groups* need coddling.
My advice to the ATP guys: keep making a good podcast, don't worry about the composition of your listeners, and you'll increase the size of your audience. Let the discussion devolve into who best passes some test of political correctness, and listeners will go elsewhere.
A big chunk of the episode was devoted to a reasonable enough question: what can the podcast do to attract more women listeners? Co-host John Siracusa acknowledged that the gender breakdown of listeners was just an educated guess. He also postulated that the best way of increasing listenership was to go after the relatively underserved market, i.e., women. I'm not sure that's true - as an obvious example, suppose there were a podcast called All Things Left-Handed, and consider whether the best way of increasing listenership was to attract a bigger share of right-handers - but there's nothing inherently wrong with trying to increase listenership, or even to target a particular demographic.
Siracusa (and co-hosts Marco Arment and Casey Liss) also get credit for rejecting the obvious suggestions, such as having women co-hosts. In their view, that would change the show sufficiently that it would be a different show. (I couldn't help but be reminded of the view of some Doctor Who fans that the next Doctor needs to be a woman. Nothing wrong with a show about a Time Lady, but it would be a different show. I suspect I will one day be on the losing side of that argument, however.)
Then the conversation devolved into the usual blather of more-sensitive-than-thou political correctness. The three hosts started discussing whether they should reject advertisements about products that are targeted toward men, such as Harry's razors. (My reaction to that: I don't drink beer, but I still watch the Super Bowl and even manage to enjoy some of the better beer ads.) They then discussed whether ad reads should be more "gender inclusive." My eyes rolled and I could feel my fingers twitch toward the fast-forward button.
The final straw was when a listener complained that the hosts of the podcast should not presume to "speak for all women." That's the kind of bullshit statement that makes me stop taking a topic seriously. To give Arment, Liss, and Siracusa credit, they never came close to suggesting that they spoke for any women, much less all of them. However, even acknowledging the comment cheapened the discussion to the point where I had to fast-forward until the segment was, mercifully, over.
I don't think I'm out of the mainstream when I make the following statements:
1. Criticizing a female or minority politician's policies is not misogynistic or racist. (It *is*, however, beyond the pale to suggest that a female candidate is a "serious" candidate only because of her gender, as Washington Post columnist wrote about former H-P CEO Carly Fiorina.)
2. Stating an opinion generally carries with it the implication that the opinion is that of the speaker, and not of an entire group of people, such as an entire gender. If the speaker prefaces the remark with "all [group] believe," then the foregoing statement does not apply.
3. A man who states an opinion is not "mansplaining." A statement can be condescending in either words or tone, but, without more information, I will take statements at their face value.
Relatedly, the idea that groups of individuals are, collectively, fragile flowers that need special protections from the mean world, is itself an insulting one deserving of mockery. The feminists in the UK who needed "safe spaces" and found that clapping was alarming and therefore suggested the use of "jazz hands" to indicate appreciation were deserving of mockery. Campus liberals who demand "safe spaces" when conservatives speak on campus or the school screens the movie "American Sniper" are deserving of mockery. The First Lady, who recently said that blacks don't go to museums because they don't "feel welcome," is most certainly deserving of mockery. (Has she ever been to the Smithsonian museums on the Mall in Washington? Lots of minorities, many of whom are children, don't seem to feel that they're not welcome.) Back in the real world, your boss might give you a bad performance review, or a peer might object to your ideas. Some people may react poorly to criticism, but it is insulting to think that entire *groups* need coddling.
My advice to the ATP guys: keep making a good podcast, don't worry about the composition of your listeners, and you'll increase the size of your audience. Let the discussion devolve into who best passes some test of political correctness, and listeners will go elsewhere.
Saturday, May 16, 2015
Soliel's Garden
A few pictures from the memorial garden in memory of Soliel Snook. What an amazing job done in such a short time!
Thursday, May 14, 2015
Get Off My Lawn
Yes, this is going to be a Cranky Old Person Rant.
I work in a federal agency with about 1,000 employees, give or take. My little brain can’t possibly remember 1,000 names. Fortunately, I work in a smaller group that has about 100 people, most of whom are now on a single floor of our building. I know a lot of those people: everyone in my division, everyone in senior management, and pretty much everyone over 40 years old in the other divisions. Call it 60 people I know by name. When we meet in the hallway, I say hello to them, they say hello back.
Of the people I don’t really know – maybe I’ve seen them around, maybe they were recently hired – I still say hello in the hallway, but most of them say nothing in return. Nada. They don’t acknowledge my existence. When this happens, I’m sorely tempted to ask to see the person’s identification. “Say, I haven’t seen you before. Do you work here? Could I see an ID?”
The thing about it is that almost everyone who refuses to say hello is under 35, maybe even under 30. Is this a generational issue? Do young people not bother to acknowledge the existence of (a) colleagues or (b) older colleagues? (A friend of mine of similar age says that the kids know we’re has-beens and see no percentage in talking to us. Cold, but perhaps right.) What gives, kids? Have video games robbed today’s youth of social graces?
While I’m on the subject of antisocial behavior, here’s a picture of one of our two refrigerators, taken at 7:30 a.m., when almost no one is in the office. Somewhere around 50 people need to share this thing. What do we see? A pitcher of water, a big orange juice container, a bottle of water, and some large object wrapped in a plastic bag, all taking up space on the top shelf. Another big bag o’ stuff on the bottom shelf, sharing space with a container of Greek yogurt and several containers of berries on the right. The bottom drawer is also filled. The door has a blue Gatorade bottle, several bottles of salad dressing, and several containers of milk (some are out of the frame), with a big ol’ bottle of milk lying down on its side on the lower shelf of the door. Egads, people! This stuff sits there for days. Play nicely, children.
I work in a federal agency with about 1,000 employees, give or take. My little brain can’t possibly remember 1,000 names. Fortunately, I work in a smaller group that has about 100 people, most of whom are now on a single floor of our building. I know a lot of those people: everyone in my division, everyone in senior management, and pretty much everyone over 40 years old in the other divisions. Call it 60 people I know by name. When we meet in the hallway, I say hello to them, they say hello back.
Of the people I don’t really know – maybe I’ve seen them around, maybe they were recently hired – I still say hello in the hallway, but most of them say nothing in return. Nada. They don’t acknowledge my existence. When this happens, I’m sorely tempted to ask to see the person’s identification. “Say, I haven’t seen you before. Do you work here? Could I see an ID?”
The thing about it is that almost everyone who refuses to say hello is under 35, maybe even under 30. Is this a generational issue? Do young people not bother to acknowledge the existence of (a) colleagues or (b) older colleagues? (A friend of mine of similar age says that the kids know we’re has-beens and see no percentage in talking to us. Cold, but perhaps right.) What gives, kids? Have video games robbed today’s youth of social graces?
While I’m on the subject of antisocial behavior, here’s a picture of one of our two refrigerators, taken at 7:30 a.m., when almost no one is in the office. Somewhere around 50 people need to share this thing. What do we see? A pitcher of water, a big orange juice container, a bottle of water, and some large object wrapped in a plastic bag, all taking up space on the top shelf. Another big bag o’ stuff on the bottom shelf, sharing space with a container of Greek yogurt and several containers of berries on the right. The bottom drawer is also filled. The door has a blue Gatorade bottle, several bottles of salad dressing, and several containers of milk (some are out of the frame), with a big ol’ bottle of milk lying down on its side on the lower shelf of the door. Egads, people! This stuff sits there for days. Play nicely, children.
Monday, May 11, 2015
Remembering Soliel Snook
As Caledonians (and former Caledonians, and…) know, long-time resident (and Radio Riel presenter, and creator of gardens, and…) Miss Soliel Snook passed away in real life on April 23.
Her friend, Miss Gabrielle Riel, has organized a memorial to Miss Snook for tomorrow, May 12, starting at midnight SLT in the Sal Island region, on what would have been her eighth Rezday. What a lovely and thoughtful tribute!
I can’t claim to have known Miss Snook well, but I have chronicled her skills several times in this Journal, from a whimsical garden (way back in 2009!), to Clos Normand, next to her home sim of Giverny (2010), to Caledon’s Highlands (2011).
My prayers go out to her family and friends, both in real life and Second Life.
Her friend, Miss Gabrielle Riel, has organized a memorial to Miss Snook for tomorrow, May 12, starting at midnight SLT in the Sal Island region, on what would have been her eighth Rezday. What a lovely and thoughtful tribute!
I can’t claim to have known Miss Snook well, but I have chronicled her skills several times in this Journal, from a whimsical garden (way back in 2009!), to Clos Normand, next to her home sim of Giverny (2010), to Caledon’s Highlands (2011).
My prayers go out to her family and friends, both in real life and Second Life.
Snook’s Garden Center in Caledon Highlands, August 2011
Thursday, April 30, 2015
Mad Peas' UNIA
The crazy game people at Mad Pea have struck again. Their latest, UNIA, is now open. Several people, including Inara Pey and Ziki Questi, have already blogged about it. There’s a web site devoted to the game, including a “Prologue” and a good description of how the game works.
The game description begins:
The game requires a HUD, available for purchase in three different levels: Bronze (L$400), Silver (L$750), and Gold (L$1000); the different levels provide increasing amounts of equipment to start. Game play involves looking at objects, collecting certain objects, and solving the central mystery of what’s going on, all the while trying to avoid getting killed by lurking monsters.
I’m not a big fan of first-person shooter games, and this aspect of UNIA doesn’t particularly appeal to me, but I can help but feel I’ll give the game a try at some point.
The game description begins:
What an amazing day! It was a trip you had been dreading, but your friend's wedding turned out to be a memorable one. You're driving home, tired, but smiling and laughing to yourself, replaying the favorite moments of the event in your mind. Your head in the clouds, you don't notice right away the subtle shaking of the car. Suddenly, the shaking turns into violent bucks, smoke curls out from under the hood, and the whole heap starts to lurch out of control.
Snapping out of your reverie, you grab the steering wheel with both hands and white-knuckle it, wrestling the bucking, heaving car to the side of the road, where it crashes to a stop.
Coughing, you stumble out of the mess and look around.
"Where am I?"
You hadn't really paid much attention to the road signs, but you spot a run-down building with the town's name painted over its doorway: "Molimo."
The dusty town is strangely quiet. With no other choice at hand, you wander around, hoping to find help. What you find instead is entirely unexpected ....An intriguing beginning!
The game requires a HUD, available for purchase in three different levels: Bronze (L$400), Silver (L$750), and Gold (L$1000); the different levels provide increasing amounts of equipment to start. Game play involves looking at objects, collecting certain objects, and solving the central mystery of what’s going on, all the while trying to avoid getting killed by lurking monsters.
I’m not a big fan of first-person shooter games, and this aspect of UNIA doesn’t particularly appeal to me, but I can help but feel I’ll give the game a try at some point.
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
SL History
I visited the “History of Second Life” exhibit - part of the Linden Endowment of the Arts program - a while back and forgot to post the picture. The build, by Sniper Siemens, is actually titled “The greatest story ever told… SL History 1999-2015,” and it’s as advertised (well, the history part; I wouldn’t go so far as to say that it replaces the Bible as the greatest story ever told).
The path takes visitors chronologically through important developments in Second Life’s history, starting with the Linden Lab building in San Francisco.
Major events, including advances in the platform, controversial decisions by Linden Lab, and spats among Second Life communities, have written explanations and often a depiction of the event.
Even the Greenies make a return visit.
The exhibit closes May 31.
The path takes visitors chronologically through important developments in Second Life’s history, starting with the Linden Lab building in San Francisco.
Major events, including advances in the platform, controversial decisions by Linden Lab, and spats among Second Life communities, have written explanations and often a depiction of the event.
Even the Greenies make a return visit.
The exhibit closes May 31.
Sunday, April 12, 2015
Bryn Oh's "Lobby Cam"
The latest exhibit from Bryn Oh on her Immersiva sim is called Lobby Cam, which draws the visitor into the story and then makes the visitor part of the story.
From the painting-filled lobby, where one can obtain the (free) HUD that will record progress, proceed through the painting shown below to emerge into a Saskatchewan wheat field.
As you watch the wheat blow gently in the wind and survey the vast expanse that reminds me of AM Radio’s The Far Away, keep an eye out for pieces of paper. Click on the paper and the HUD records them as diary entries. Piece by piece, a story builds: a man, sitting by himself watching television, changes the channel to find a young woman in an apartment lobby. As days go by, the man finds himself drawn to this mysterious channel, drawn to the woman he has never met in a city far away from him. You become a voyeur into the man’s voyeurism.
Some familiar Bryn Oh characters make cameo appearances:
I found myself eagerly scanning the ground, or in various nooks and crannies, to locate the next diary entry to read how the story would end. I’m not quite there yet, but, according to Ziki Questi, there’s yet another level of engagement between the visitor and the artist to be found. The next time I’m in-world, I’ll be back to see how Lobby Cam turns out.
From the painting-filled lobby, where one can obtain the (free) HUD that will record progress, proceed through the painting shown below to emerge into a Saskatchewan wheat field.
As you watch the wheat blow gently in the wind and survey the vast expanse that reminds me of AM Radio’s The Far Away, keep an eye out for pieces of paper. Click on the paper and the HUD records them as diary entries. Piece by piece, a story builds: a man, sitting by himself watching television, changes the channel to find a young woman in an apartment lobby. As days go by, the man finds himself drawn to this mysterious channel, drawn to the woman he has never met in a city far away from him. You become a voyeur into the man’s voyeurism.
Some familiar Bryn Oh characters make cameo appearances:
I found myself eagerly scanning the ground, or in various nooks and crannies, to locate the next diary entry to read how the story would end. I’m not quite there yet, but, according to Ziki Questi, there’s yet another level of engagement between the visitor and the artist to be found. The next time I’m in-world, I’ll be back to see how Lobby Cam turns out.
Saturday, April 4, 2015
Metamorphosis in Black and White
Far above New Babbage’s Quarry Hill is a sprawling work of art by Miss Beq Janus, modeled after M.C. Escher’s “Metamorphosis” wood cuttings. From the artist’s note:
I didn’t have time to explore the entire installation, from nooks to crannies, but I was fascinated by how the buildings changed from black to white and back again as one rotates around the image.
Read more about the exhibit in Ziki Questi’s blog or Steadman Kondor’s Google+ entry.
As the artist’s note says,
My sim was inspired directly by a section of the 1939 woodcut Metamorphosis II - though the scene appears both in the earlier Metamorphosis I and the final Metamorphosis III, created towards the end of his career.
Metamorphosis is itself a journey and the artwork "morphs" from one tessellated shape to another from a simple chequered grid through lizards and hexagons into bees and fish then birds, capturing many of the themes of his early paintings. It then morphs back into blocks before becoming the view of Atrani.
I have left many other "journeys" around the sim, some that draw on the notion of infinity that informed one of Escher's key themes. I leave you to find them and to find your own journeys.
I didn’t have time to explore the entire installation, from nooks to crannies, but I was fascinated by how the buildings changed from black to white and back again as one rotates around the image.
Read more about the exhibit in Ziki Questi’s blog or Steadman Kondor’s Google+ entry.
As the artist’s note says,
From the still, black waters emerge flat square blocks, flipping noisily from black to white as they build into a chequered land. With a pop and a jiggle the squares deform and evolve; black and white take on a grey and form into solid blocks that rise dramatically from the ocean. These blocks of stone, stable and solid, now shape and reshape to evolve into architecture.
Thursday, April 2, 2015
In the “new” Caledon Pensans the new Vayandar Gallery is hosting a selection of art from Mrs. Tehanu Marenwolf-Brentano. The show is entitled, "Welcome to Nest of Dreams: The Art of Crowgirl Studio."
From the artist’s statement:
Even though the opening party was long over, I helped myself to a glass of absinthe.
My goodness, it’s Her Majesty!
From the artist’s statement:
There’s something about being able to do something well that is akin to flying. Running, riding a bike, dancing, making music, writing: there’s this sense of freedom and motion inherent in making or doing something wonderful. That same sense of freedom and motion is what I feel when I dream of flying…or when I create a piece of art.
Some people dream of worlds of ancient mysteries, of boundless exploration of the universe…worlds and stories on a grand scale. I dream of worlds where dreams find their way into the waking world, where people and animals are friends, where we sometimes have wings with which to fly. I create collages to share those dreams.
Collage is a rich visual language - water from a deep and sweet well. I see myself as drinking from the same creative wellspring as artists such as Nick Bantock, Anahata Katkin, and Catrin Welz-Stein. I usually start with an image that catches my attention and then try to share the secret story it hints at to me. I create collages using material from a variety of sources, generally vintage images that are in the public domain, photographs and watercolor textures that I create myself, and other digital resources. I take great joy in bringing new life to old or forgotten images.
Even though the opening party was long over, I helped myself to a glass of absinthe.
My goodness, it’s Her Majesty!
Monday, March 16, 2015
A Walk Among the Ruins
I found myself wandering through the watery ruins of a crumbling town, buildings now no more than bricks and even those not complete.
Rickety walkways connect some of the structures, evidence of a recent presence.
The views are desolate, but beautiful.
Still, the only things that prosper here are the wildflowers, adding a pop of color into the gray landscape. Life, as a famous philosopher once said, will find a way.
Ruins, by Cica Ghost, runs through March.
(Via Ziki Questi.)
Rickety walkways connect some of the structures, evidence of a recent presence.
The views are desolate, but beautiful.
Still, the only things that prosper here are the wildflowers, adding a pop of color into the gray landscape. Life, as a famous philosopher once said, will find a way.
Ruins, by Cica Ghost, runs through March.
(Via Ziki Questi.)
Sunday, March 8, 2015
Snow and Tell
What a difference a few miles make! On Thursday, around eight inches of snow fell. On Friday, I finished shoveling.
That’s quite enough winter weather, thank you. Now to see if my car is still black under the layers of salt and brine...
The view of the (late) winter wonderland from Chez Jameson
On Saturday, I drove to Richmond. The city got almost no snow.
The United Daughters of the Confederacy building
Friday, February 27, 2015
In Which I Visit Goatwood Village
The other day I took the train to a charming village called Goatwood. Oddly, as I disembarked from the train, I saw nary a person or even a stray cat. Not letting that bother me, I took a stroll around the village, starting at the train station...
… and through the central street.
I passed many a quaint building, including a pub and an inn.
The purpose of other buildings was more obscure.
I even encountered a gypsy caravan.
The strangest thing about this quaint village was that it was entirely deserted - not a soul in it! Perhaps some form of witchcraft spirited away everyone. If so, one can only hope that the residents are returned shortly.
---------
Goatwood is described as a “residential RP” sim, which I take to mean that people not only RP there but have residences as well. Visitors are welcome, but only with an “Explorer” tag, which is free at the TP point (the train station) and provides three days of access to the village. The station also has a wealth of information about the types of characters and ongoing story lines.
From the introductory notecard:
… and through the central street.
I passed many a quaint building, including a pub and an inn.
The purpose of other buildings was more obscure.
I even encountered a gypsy caravan.
The strangest thing about this quaint village was that it was entirely deserted - not a soul in it! Perhaps some form of witchcraft spirited away everyone. If so, one can only hope that the residents are returned shortly.
---------
Goatwood is described as a “residential RP” sim, which I take to mean that people not only RP there but have residences as well. Visitors are welcome, but only with an “Explorer” tag, which is free at the TP point (the train station) and provides three days of access to the village. The station also has a wealth of information about the types of characters and ongoing story lines.
From the introductory notecard:
Everyone who wishes to role play in Goatswood should first explore the place.The extensive notecard, elaborate backstories, and gaming HUD all point to a serious, involved style of RP.
You should try to find out as much about the Village and the people who live here as you think you need, before settling down to serious play.
In an attempt to make this exploration more of a fun and productive experience, I have placed the note cards which explain the history and back story of the Village around the sim in the appropriate places.
In outside areas reference material can be found in Red Mushrooms.
If you see a red mushroom, pick it (left click ) and you will be given a note containing an RP intro to the location.
Inside locations reference material can be found in small green books.
For instance: there is a book on the counter of each Inn.
Some notes will indicate where you might find more information.
Tuesday, February 17, 2015
Mr. Biggins in Love
While I’m on the subject of New Babbage, I saw that episode 261 of Designing Worlds returned to New Babbage with a little intrigue (as usual) and the timely subject of love - Mr. Jebediah Biggins, in particular, as the love-lorn but ingenious fellow.
Monday, February 16, 2015
New Babbage's Quarry Hill
At some point, when I wasn’t looking, the town of New Babbage extended its borders once again, this time to an area called Quarry Hill. I strolled around the place one winter’s day.
McLachlan estate
Carpe Diem Coffee House and Tea Room
Carpe Diem interior
Baron Insurance Agency and Catacomb
New Cocoa Java Cafe
Carillon
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