After I've been hanging my hat and quill here for who-knows-how-many years, The Column is moving.
For me, this is a giant step. Rather than using a hosted site such as Blogger (brought to you by the friendly folks of Google), the new site is my own.
All of which is good news for this kid.
I've already exported the content from here to the new site, and for a short time I will even remember this site as I post. If I remember. Eventually, though, I will phase this site (and probably the one at Hubpages) out.
Interesting read from MediaBistro. Let's put it this way: How many companies would handle a 36 percent failure rate for its innovations? Without getting all panicky, that is? Without committing hara-kiri?
" ... at any rate, Google, one of the most successful tech companies in the world, has a lot of failures. More than a third of their product launches fail, according to The Next Web ... out of 251 Google projects or add-ons since 1999, 90 have been canceled. Out of 22 major product launches, eight have been huge flops."
As much as I love progress and all things high-tech, there are some aspects of this brave new world I wish they'd killed off in the incubator.
Now, understand where I'm coming from here. This isn't some neo-Luddite railing about progress. I'm pretty plugged in for a geezer. I have my Web-enabled cell phone on my hip, and I do much more communication via text message than I do with voice. I have my netbook close at hand, an mp3 player with headphones dangling from my neck, and a few thumb drives secreted on my person every waking hour.
I'm a great fan of any tech that makes my work and my life easier, and I especially enjoy any such toys that I can play with, take apart, hack the system a little bit, and adapt it to my needs. I'm all for it, and it turns out I'm not the only technophile among my age group.
However, tech shouldn't replace common sense, and I draw the line at erasing the human touch.
OK. So I've become used to doing all my banking online. Sure, I miss those cute bank tellers who know me by name and can continue whatever conversatiuon we'd started the week before. I'll sacrifice all that for something that saves me time or a trip, or makes my life more convenient. But there are still limits.
I think it was a trip to the pharmacy that convinced me where my boundaries lie.
I usually do my grocery shopping at the local Big Box store, and I can do it without feeling guilty about feeding the Chinese economy or the Big Box Conglomerate. I don't much care to visit the place because of my dislike for crowds, but price and convenience trump everything and to compromise I tend to batch my trips there. In this case, though, I made a special trip just to fill a prescription at the Big Box Pharmacy attached to the Big Box Store.
So I submitted my prescription, found a seat on the bench about 20 feet away from the pharmacy counter, and relaxed. Chilled out watching the live version of People Of Big Box, which is a lot scarier than the online version. But I digress ...
So I'm there, relaxing on the bench in the pharmacy department and people-watching when my phone went off. I look at it and don't recognize the number, but I answered it anyway.
Couldn't even get off my standard phone greeting. Some automated voice began talking right away. I can't quote it verbatim nor would I want to, but this automated voice informed me that someone in my household has a prescription ready at the local Big Box Mart pharmacy and I can pick it up anytime.
Call me old-fashioned, but whatever happened to just looking out behind the counter, waving, maybe hollering something, making a public spectacle out of oneself? Whatever happened to just calling on the store intercom?
OK. I admit. I like personalized service, and you sure can't get it when some automated phone call coming from someplace (perhaps India?) tells me my prescription is ready.
Durn it all. Is there any way to bypass this whole process? Like maybe do the whole thing online, including the delivery?
Some folks absolutely must make a simple job difficult, like this guy in upstate South Carolina:
===
SPARTANBURG COUNTY, S.C. -- A man was arrested Saturday after deputies say that he stole meat from a grocery store by stuffing it down his pants, according to an incident report.Deputies said the manager of the Ingles at 2120 E. Main St. called police after an employee said he saw a man, later identified as Terry Campbell, walking out with meat in his pants ...===
But wait, there's more, according to WYFF News:
The perp had several packages of meat stuffed down there.
The store manager himself reached in the guy's pants to recover the meat -- by then you'd better be sure a crime is being committed; 'cause I can't think of any other reason to stage a TSA-style search.'
The perp took off, tried to start his car. The operative word here is "tried," as he had to throw it into neutral and give it a push start.
Finally he took off on foot and was easily captured.
And complained of chest pains after he was arrested.
And you think you have those days at your job where everything goes wrong?
"If I'm writing something while depressed, I am absolutely sure it is going to suck. Really really bad. But here's a funny thing: Often when I look at the work later, I can't tell much difference ... it will take me longer to get motivated and focused enough to write the thing, but other than that I really can't tell."
... and the Center For Disease Control wants you to know what to do in the event of a zombie invasion.
Maybe the whole idea came from all those pepperoni pizzas washed down with way too much Mountain Dew, but the CDC put out a blurb outlining preparedness steps when the undead come a-calling.
"The rise of zombies in pop culture has given credence to the idea that a zombie apocalypse could happen." wrote CDC official Ali Khan. "In such a scenario zombies would take over entire countries, roaming city streets eating anything living that got in their way. The proliferation of this idea has led many people to wonder 'How do I prepare for a zombie apocalypse?' "
One of the first things I think of immediately is that the CDC is a governmental function, and they're screwing off on taxpayer time. But this CDC announcement may actually make more sense than just about any other governmental release. Well, kinda sorta.
"Well, we’re here to answer that question for you, and hopefully share a few tips about preparing for real emergencies too," Khan continues.
OK. Now we're cooking. Khan then outlines some preparedness procedures that could serve you well in a pandemic, a hurricane, or zombie invasion.
Craziness aside, what I get from my reading is that it's hard to sell preparedness to the public. Hurricanes are not sexy enough. Earthquakes don't have that "it" factor. Even a multi-angled event such as a Katrina (featuring disasters such as a hurricane, massive flooding, societal breakdown and FEMA) and Japan's recent earthquake/tsunami/nuclear trifecta aren't enough to sway the populace in the semi-civilized world.
The CDC rationale, it seems, is to come up with something really over the top to garner public attention -- such as a zombie takeover. It is unbelievably tempting for me to say something about how the zombies already took over several years ago and were the difference-maker in the 2008 Presidential election, but I'm not gonna say it. I'm not gonna say it.
Later with these pedestrian hurricanies, tsunami, nuclear mutant monsters from Japan, and even space aliens. All of these have been done to death, and in our ADHD culture, you've got to hit the public hard, frequently, and from a variety of angles.
I can understand that complacency, somewhat. I grew up in California, the place where visitors and new arrivals get scared because of earthquakes. Well, there are a lot of other scary things about California, but right now I'm just going to key on earthquakes. To a new arrival, any shaking of the ground is enough to trigger a full-blown panic attack. However, it takes a Richter Scale hit of at least six-something to move the longtime resident. Don't pester me over a little trembling; if dishes fly out of the cupboards, then call me.
As far as construction goes, whole metro areas are built along earthquake fault lines. The Inland Empire, which for decades saw the fastest growth of any area in California, is nestled along the San Andreas and San Jacinto Faults. The San Jac passed underneath the a) the freeway interchange of I-10 and I-215 that had some pretty big skyhooks, b) the men's department of Fedco, and c) the San Bernardino Valley College campus. Did I worry about getting caught in the mother of all earthquakes during my classes at Valley? Not at all. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn't, it doesn't.
I now live near Charleston, South Carolina, known to outsiders as hurricane country. Every year we go through the same drill here -- pick up a hurricane tracking map at the Piggly Wiggly, and make noises about putting together a plan. Which usually never comes off. Here, life goes on. We watch the hurricanes develop in the Atlantic, note that for a moment Charleston is named the primary target, then relax when the hurricane takes its usual dogleg right turn. We do have an evacuation every decade or so, but the last hurricane of any real consequence to hit the Lowcountry was Hugo in 1989. Since then the wreckage was cleared out, the sea islands were built back up, and everything went back to normal.
For the record, I do have a skeletal emergency plan in case the Son Of Hugo blows the roof off my mobile home. I have a backpack loaded with clothing sleeping bag, rope and tarp, plus some prepackaged rations I'm starting to collect. This is really in anticipation of a hike I'm planning, but if something weird happens before then (fire? Flood? The PC Police knocking at my door?) it's nice to know I'm somewhat prepared.
Standard survival items, straight from the CDC, include:
* Water (1 gallon per person per day) * Food (stock up on non-perishable items that you eat regularly) * Medications (this includes prescription and non-prescription meds) * Tools and Supplies (utility knife, duct tape, battery powered radio, etc.) * Sanitation and Hygiene (household bleach, soap, towels, etc.) * Clothing and Bedding (a change of clothes for each family member and blankets) * Important documents (copies of your driver’s license, passport, and birth certificate to name a few) * First Aid supplies (although you’re a goner if a zombie bites you, you can use these supplies to treat basic cuts and lacerations that you might get during a tornado or hurricane)
Gee, I think I have room in my backpack for the best defense against zombies: A shotgun. Gotta be prepared for anything.
If you use LastPass, be careful. In fact, change your master password. Like right now.
A security incident was reported May 3, and the company says that there is no proof of a security breach but they're "erring on the side of caution." Or something.
Here's how they put it:
LastPass Security Incident Information
Dear LastPass User,
We have reason to believe that LastPass user account information may have been accessed due to an illegal intrusion into our network. Despite not having definitive proof of this, we are erring on the side of caution and alerting you on how to safeguard your data.
Thanks, The LastPass Team
The remedy? Again, change your master password.
From LastPass:
How Likely Is It That My Actual Data Is Compromised?
It's not. If you used a weak LastPass master password, then it is then conceivable that your master password might be compromised.
Even if this occurred, it is still extremely unlikely that your actual LastPass account data (site passwords, form fill data, etc.) will be compromised.
This is because the attackers do not posses your actual encrypted data, and because we prevented access to the actual encrypted data immediately after discovering the potential breach. We did this by denying access to your LastPass Vault if you tried to login from a location that you never used before. Access to your vault from unknown locations is permitted only after you re-verify your identity: LastPass sends you an email and asks you to click on a link within the email.
Why was I not notified by email immediately?
Our existing email notifications were inefficient. In the interest of securing our users we acted quickly, only notifying the userbase via the company blog and interviews with the media.
We recognize that users deserved immediate notification of the situation, and are working to develop a system for the future that will be much more efficient in quickly updating our entire userbase.
I use LastPass, and will continue to do so. It's a solid system. However, I am looking toward other password-keeping programs, such as KeePass (which saves my password data to disk rather than in the cloud).
Upshot: I don't see this as a panic situation. But still ...
It was 50 years ago this week that America's version of the manned space program really began.
On May 5, 1921, 37-year-old Alan Shepard caught a ride on a Redstone rocket and traveling about 300 miles in a Mercury capsule with about the cabin space of a phone booth.
According to Tom Wolfe's The Right Stuff, he spent that 15-minute suborbital flight lying in a puddle of his own pee, as urine-recovery systems were not worked into the space suits just yet.
But this flight was a short answer to Soviet cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin's first orbital flight from three weeks ago, and proved a few things. Like the U.S. had the stuff to send people into space. Like our rockets could lift off without blowing up first.
Shepard was later grounded due to an inner-ear problem but was reactivated several years later, in time to command Apollo 14 in 1971. Of the original seven astronauts, Shepard was the only one to walk on the Moon. He died in 1998.
To mark the 50th anniversary of the first flight, The Atlantic ran an article with a series of previously-unreleased photos. Check it out.
Got these courtesy of talk show host Neal Boortz. Check 'em out -- they're a real hoot.
Remember, though: No laughing in the airport pat-down line. No levity whatsoever. (I found this last part out the hard way while boarding from Kona Airport, but that was too long ago to go into.)
I love air shows, and I was seriously considering going to the one at the Charleston Air Force Base Saturday.
Thought about it, but I believe I'll pass.
You know it's not the same old air force base, not with post-9/11 Homeland Security being a fact of life. You can't just go onto the base without a search.
I got this from the Air Expo website, and this gives me an idea of what to expect:
Prohibited items include:
Coolers
Backpacks
Gym Bags
Glass Bottles
Alcohol
Knives
Fire Arms
Car alarms must be disabled for the duration of the air show
Again, not the same old base.
Back in my pre-9/11 taxi driving days, I used to cut through the base as a shortcut. Make up a name at the gate, and no one was the wiser. "I'm here to pick up Airman Mingus and Lt. Coltrane," I used to say, and no one minded.
Now, without military ID you can't even go on that base.
OK. Fact of life.
Executive decision: I'm going to watch it from the convenience of my front yard. This is the one time I consider myself lucky to live underneath a landing approach pattern.
Not long ago I started corresponding with an old friend, a fellow survivor of the newsroom wars. I hadn't seen him in 20 years, and he had an idea that caused the printer's ink in my veins to flow a little bit faster ... this idea was, why doesn't he buy an old struggling newspaper, call all the old reporters who haven't drunk themselves goofy yet, get them all together in one newsroom, and show the world what real journalism is all about ... stop me if you've heard that one ...
Not long ago I mentioned Thin Mints, the world-famous, to-die-for, to-perhaps-fight-for Girl Scout cookie. Some roommates in Florida fought over them, one whopping the other upside the head with various blunt objects and the roomies chasing one another with scissors because of some stolen Thin Mints. Remember?
This photo crossed my transom the other day:
Here's a little background: Last year some friends and I were hiking up Mount LeConte, one of the bigger mountains in the Great Smokies. Wore my butt out, as I recall. Fairly steep in places, but worth it.
Now, on various trails there are people who make it a practice to hand out goodies to hikers. I saw this at a section of the Appalachian Trail (the trail former Gov. Mark Sanford made famous) by Max Patch in North Carolina. It's tradition, anyway.
On this hike, we're about halfway up when we ran across this lady passing out treats/energy food. Of course I had to make my cookie grab, and fellow hiker Rick Moore recorded the moment for posterity.
Of course, the lady had Thin Mints.
I almost fell in love that day.
What would a person do for a Thin Mint? Climb a mountain, perhaps?
These started cropping up on median strips around Charleston this week. I'm not sure what they are; they may really be some sort of weed for all I know.
But a couple of things about this weed:
I've never seen them grow anywhere else but in South Carolina. I've seen them in the Lowcountry and upstate, but oddly, not on the other side of the North Carolina line.
They come out in the early spring, and are as much an indicator of the season as the dogwood, as the Bradford pear, as the pedestrian walking around in an intoxicated we-survived-winter-and-the-world's-all-right state.
Plus, they hold their color for only a short time. Then they become true weeds; thrown into the fire and burned.
But the colors are very pretty. Weeds never looked this good.
