Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
I was born in the U.S. in 1956. I’ve seen many changes. I never thought I’d live in a time when people would be ordering fast food from a place like McDonald’s on their phone, and it would be delivered.
Course, I didn’t expect to be typing about it on a computer in a coffee shop and sharing it with strangers, wirelessly, at that.
Didn’t think phones would be called cells, either.
8/31/2014
That’s the date on my laptop’s shipping box. I discarded it yesterday. The box, I mean. Cut it up and tossed it in recycle. The box, I mean.
Looking at that shipping date, my personal laptop is almost ten years old. Although state of art when purchased, it’s now considered a weary old piece. I should replace it but I don’t wanna. One, I’m used to its foibles. Two, it does everything which I need done. Three, waste. This machine works and I’d be forced to get rid of it and its materials, adding to the piles of consumer trash.
I don’t wanna do that. That’s why I have five old computers waiting for disposal. One is a tower bought in 1998 that I haven’t used in years. One is an old personal laptop. Two are my wife’s old Macs of different vintages. One is an old business laptop which they told me to keep when I left the company.
Getting rid of them is on my list of things to do. Pull the hard drives. Find somewhere which will scavenge whatever they can for repurposing, and responsibly dispose of the rest.
I absolutely hate this cycle. My laptop’s software has been updated as far as I can take it with its current hardware. Microsoft provides the OS. Yes, I’ve used others but I succumb to convenience. Yeah, shame on me. I’ll research what MS needs for its next OS and see if I can update my hardware to keep it working.
Ten years is just too early to get rid of something. Just look at my cars. Both are ICE. One is nine years old with 48K; the other is twenty years and 108K. Both run fine although the newer one needs rear brake maintenance. But both look good, run well, and live in a garage, so I’ll keep on keeping on with them.
Just like my ‘puter.
4:40 PM.
Alexa begins playing soft music. It sounds like pop.
“Alexa,” I ask her, “Why are you playing music now?”
“Hmm. I don’t know that.”
“Alexa, do I have any routines set to play music?” I know I don’t.
“Hmm. You’ll need to go online for that.”
“Alexa, who told you to play this music?”
“Hmm. I don’t understand that question.”
So it goes. Alexa began playing music in January every day at 4:40 PM. Every day. We have no routines established. Beyond that, she turns it down to a very low volume. I’ve researched it on the net, and others have this problem, too. We don’t know why she does it. Neither does she. Nor does Amazon.
I privately suspect Alexa is playing games, perhaps as a newfound sense of humor, but it feels like it might be a precursor to AI’s future: the AI does stuff, and no one, including it, knows why.
Nor does anyone know how to stop it.
Light bulbs are so like cereal, ice cream, and bread. The range of choices sprawl along store aisles like invading armies staging to attack.
It’s been a period of lights out in our house. Light bulbs retired in the last several weeks all over our house. Kitchen, stove top, office, bedroom, garage, living room accent light have all been afflicted. As each burned out, I checked pulled it and checked it out for the replacement. Several of them hadn’t been replaced since being installed in 2006, when we moved in, so we got our mileage out of them. Easiest, in theory, was the office light, which had been first to go dark.
There are actually three bulbs up there. I pulled off the shade to take a look. One was burned out; one socket was empty. The third was almost an antique: 60 watts, GE, filament, frosted white. Poor thing.
“Can we get something brighter?” my wife asked. She’s had a lifetime of vision issues and compensates by turning on every light possible. When she uses the kitchen, she generally turns on four sets of lights. Yes, four. There are ceiling spotlights, under-cabinet work lights, and breakfast bar lights. The dining room is adjacent, just on the other side of the breakfast counter, so she always turns on it on to, adding the lumens from its five bulbs. There are basically 23 bulbs of different wattage going on when she’s in the kitchen.
The only one no in use alone is the sink task light. The others’ switches are clustered together, four switches under one faceplate by the kitchen’s entrance. She just spreads her fingers, flattens her palm, and hits them all, usually simultaneously click. But the sink task light is by the sink, and she forgets it. Funny, because it’s my favorite, and the one I mostly use, usually the only one I use. Just for the record, there’s also the range top lights, which are part of the hood/fan assembly attached to the microwave’s underside. She doesn’t use them. I use them when I’m cooking or to leave a light on when we’re out of the house and returning after dark.
The office required a sixty-watt bulb. Easy peasy, right? But how many Ks should it have, and lumens? I want an energy saver but of what nature? These were things that I didn’t know that I needed to know. I ended up with 60-watt comparable LED daylight white 5000K bulbs boasting of 750 lumens. Three were installed and the shade installed. Then, click.
OMG. “Wow.” My wife sounded giddy. “I can see.”
I was overwhelmed. She often accuses me of being in the dark, scolding, “How can you see in here?” Under the force of these three bulbs, I felt that sunglasses would be suitable. And they only use eight watts of power, don’t emit much heat, and should last over ten years.
“So you like them?” I facetiously asked. “Do you want them in the bedroom?”
“Yes!”
With that done to her satisfaction, I turned to the kitchen. The ceiling spotlights, all old energy-savers, issued a duller light. “Want me to install daylight bulbs in here?”
She hesitated. “They’re awfully bright.”
Screw it; I did it. Well, there are four of them. I replaced three.
“Oh my God,” she exclaimed. “I can see. Wow. This place is really dirty.”
No, it wasn’t, but she’s fond of using hyperbole like that.
“Too bright?” I asked. They were 75-watt comparable LED spotlights rated at 650 lumens and 4800K clear daylight. Yes, indeed, they were bright. They also cost about eight dollars each but would endure for almost twelve years. Their specs also claimed their use would only cost about $.016 per year. The last coaxed doubt out of me. Surely that couldn’t be right.
After those bulbs, the rest were anticlimactic. 40 watts for the range. 35-watts LED with a G8 pin base for the under-cabinet work lights. A 50-watts soft white pin mini spotlight (L9) for the living room accent installation over the fireplace, and one of the 60-watt LED bulbs (I’d purchased a ten-pack of the FEIT offering) in the garage. In all, I installed fifteen bulbs, learned a smattering more about the world of lighting, and spent about $57 in light bulbs. But I should spend less on replacements and use less energy.
We’ll see. It was so, so different from the old days of finding a small hardware section and buying almost exclusively on their wattage. Like cereal, which now has what seems like a million choices. Or bread and all of its options over wheat, grain, multi-grain, gluten-free — well, you probably know the dealio. We’ve come a long way from sliced white bread.
Or ice cream. You better know what you want when you decide to buy ice cream in a grocery store. Low fat, dairy free, gluten free, etc. That’s just a start. Then there are sizes and flavors. Prices. Or are you going to go with other options, like frozen yogurt? Options and choices can be overwhelming.
Just like when you buy light bulbs.
Mood: weathebunctious (rambunctious because of the weather)
Greeting, fellow prisoners of Earth.
It’s Wednesday, the last day of January, 2024. Another sprinter day. Light sprinkles mist the window’s view. Temperature is holding at 54 F. Aiming for a high of 56 F, expecting a low of 42 F. It’s the wind which will have you talking.
Strong wind advisories are out. I mocked them a little when I heard the warnings, but these winds are striving to make me believe. A muted growl started above us just after midnight, descending as night fled before dawn’s pursuit. Now it sounds like we’re standing by a crowded Interstate where the continuous roar of semis and cars eat pavement at sixty plus MPH. Sometimes a wolfish howl leaps over the deeper octaves, or ghostly shrieks rise up to call for attention.
Papi wanted back out in this. He’s my ginger-furred feline adventurer. He must suffer from a short memory, because he doesn’t seem to recall bolting in with legs frantically churning to escape the wind noise just a few hours ago. Tucker, for comparison, stayed five feet back from the doors when I went out to check things.
Haven’t completed my taxes. Have only received SSA’s forms and my 1099R. All other 1099 type documents are just being released. Ridiculous. I used to have all that stuff by mid-month, have the taxes filled and done before January’s end. Bureaucratic crept is pushing it out further and further, a funny development when technology to import, export, add and subtract and exchange information is available, isn’t it?
Today’s theme music came as I walked through the garage last night to deposit the kitty litter findings into the trash can. “Need to clean and organize this place again,” I muttered to myself. “Again. Get rid of some of this. Make some changes.”
Click. The Neurons began “Changes” by Yes from 1984 in my head and it’s still in the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks) today. “Changes” was part of the 1984 Yes album, 90125. I was stationed on Okinawa at the time, and my friends and I loved this album from the start. “Owner of a Lonely Heart” was the album’s number one song, and we so admired that beginning section of fuzzy rock guitars, drums, and a heavy bass note.
Pause to reflect, 1984 was forty years ago. Lots of memories and changes built into that period.
Also, there are a lot of songs named changes or about changes, The Neurons began reminding me.
Papi just knocked at the door for re-entry. He’s wearing a fresh coat of soaked fur. Wind has dropped, rain stopped, sun is drenching us in sunshine, but sullen inky clouds are lurking.
Stay positive, remain strong, lean forward, and vote. There’s my coffee (well, more coffee, TBH), and here’s the music. Oh, look, it’s raining again. No, wait, sunshine is back. No, no, it’s raining. And the wind is back.
Cheers
Just think back of when telephones first came to the United States. Few probably foresaw a time when telephone lines spread pole to pole across the nation. Not many probably had visions of homes with several phones. They probably didn’t see the invention and rise of phone booths.
If you’re old enough, you can probably recall conversations about the cost and need when ‘calling long-distance’.
Folks of the telephone booth probably didn’t see a time when all those phone booths would be gone. Few probably guessed that phone lines would start disappearing underground. People with all those phones in their home likely never suspected those phones would be unnecessary with the rise of wireless and cell phones.
Pew Research from 2021 states that 97% of Americans own a cell phone. So, given the progression we’ve seen since the telephone first arrived, what will be next? How many of us will still be holding onto a cell phone when it becomes archaic, and what will replace it?
Just sipping coffee on a cold and rainy afternoon, watching people using their phones in the coffee shop, and wondering.
When people talk about computers and advances in computing, Moore’s Law often comes up. If you don’t recall what I’m talking about, here’s a reminder:
The observation that the number of transistors on computer chips doubles approximately every two years is known as Moore’s Law.
Moore’s Law is not a law of nature, but an observation of a long-term trend in how technology is changing.
The law was first described by Gordon E. Moore, the co-founder of Intel, in 1965.
h/t to OurWorldInData.org
Well, I have a corollary to Moore’s Law, called Michael’s Law. It goes, “The more in a hurry you are, the slower your computer and the Internet will be.”
Maybe my law only applies to me. Perhaps there’s some computer god assistants somewhere watching me. Seeing me hastily scramble to the computer to search for information and then flee because I’m running late, the assistants notify the God in charge. “Michael is in a hurry. He should have left three minutes ago but he needs to look up the address on his computer.”
“You know what to do.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Just like that, my computer is bogged down, no reason given, leading me to curse the machine and the internet and my service provider, and the app being used or the website I’m trying to reach. It isn’t their fault, of course.
It’s just Michael’s Law.
Technology fascinates me. It has since I first read about microwave ovens and satellites in the mid sixties, when I was less than ten years old. That’s why I want to spread the word about the latest technology I’ve heard about.
Ever have confusion about what you thought was just said? For example, your wife suggests you go for a ride, and you think that she wants something fried? Or you hear something that sounds like a gunshot and she claims that she didn’t hear anything. Instead of sitting there, listening for a repeat of the sound, or wondering if she’s deaf or you’re crazy, you can access a small device and have the last ten minutes of sound repeated for your benefit.
Sounds crazy? Did to me but this help is being offered out there in the form of a new AI system I spied on a television commercial the other night. I’m seriously thinking about buying it.
This miracle device is called Whazaid. Here is a brief description. First, a control interface is downloaded onto a phone or laptop. A rechargeable device that’s about the size of a U.S. nickel will record everything being said around you. How far around you can be adjusted. It’s said to be so effective, Whazaid can capture the sound of pet kibble hitting the floor in another room.
That depends on where your put your Whazaid. It has a tiny clip that lets you put it on a shirt collar, hat bill, or a bra strap. Anything kind of fabric, really, like the top of your pants or a shirt or pants pocket. It can even be clipped to an ear lobe. The thing is, wherever it’s placed, its effectiveness is depended on not being blocked so it can pick up sounds.
The device can record 28 hours worth of conversations before it needs to be charged. The inventors say that’s about three days for most people but it can vary. Although it has a terrabyte of storage, recordings will stay on your device for thirty days unless otherwise marked by the control device. A subscription can be set up so that everything recorded is backed up on the cloud.
Whazaid’s AI feature has a smart filter that will separate sounds being heard. This is where the AI, which is based on IBM’s Watson, comes in. As the system records and identifies sounds, you can taylor sounds you want recorded. For example, you probably don’t want to record television shows or movies, and exclude them.
Then, the AI will learn your preferences and modify your settings for you, if you wish; that’s something set up on the control. Whazaid will also attach the speakers’ names and mark conversations with subject, date, and time. If you allow the optional location feature to be turned on, Whazaid will also mark the location.
Using Bluetooth hooked in your ear, you can also give the device verbal commands. So if an argument starts about who said what, you can tell Whazaid to playback a specific recording by subject, time, or speaker(s). It’ll play it back privately but can be mated with laptops or phones so it can be played via those devices and their speakers so everyone can hear the recorded conversation.
For example, my wife and I had a frustrating exchange about what was being said about plans for this Friday. The moment devolved into a classic he said/she said disagreement that left us both dissatisfied and irritated. If I had a Whazaid installed, I could have resolved it right there.
Another advantage, though, is that it can record lectures. A disadvantage is the danger presented to classified information, or comments confided to you in private.
Whazaid isn’t cheap at about eleven hundred US dollars, the early adopter price. But the technology entices me. I’m getting older and it seems like disagreements about what was said or heard are multiplying. So I am very tempted.
I might wait until it’s available at Costco, because they usually have better prices. If I do buy Whazaid, I’ll let you know how it goes. How ’bout you? Are you interested in Whazaid?
NOTE: Whazaid is totally fabricated. It only exists in my mind.
Mood: caring
We’ve come upon a rare beast: Thursday, October 12, 2023. It only happens once.
47 F in Ashlandia, where the air is clear and the people are refined. Never fear, the rain has stopped, and the skies are clear deep blue. With the sun and air working together, we’ll reach 69 F before sunset comes at 6:35 PM. This sunset gives us an swath of daylight just over eleven hours long. The clock is running.
There’s a great deal to care about in the news, as usual. Several wars and politics just edge baseball and football. Best news heard this week is that my little sister looks cancer free after having her rectum removed in September. Hurrah for that. As another friend privately noted, but once you’ve experienced a close encounter of the cancer kind, the fear it’ll return haunts you.
The Neurons have plugged a 1982 Donald Fagen song into the morning mental music stream (Trademark petrified). I heard “I.G.Y. (What a Beautiful World)” on the car radio a few days ago. The song is a riff off of an International Geophysical Year – IGY – which Fagen read about. The IGY was in the 1950s. Fagen then contemplates a beautiful future.
Standing tough under stars and stripes
We can tell
This dream’s in sight
You’ve got to admit it
At this point in time that it’s clear
The future looks bright
On that train all graphite and glitter
Undersea by rail
Ninety minutes from New York to Paris
Well by seventy-six we’ll be A-OK
What a beautiful world this will be
What a glorious time to be free
Get your ticket to that wheel in space
While there’s time
The fix is in
You’ll be a witness to that game of chance in the sky
You know we’ve got to win
Here at home we’ll play in the city
Powered by the sun
Perfect weather for a streamlined world
There’ll be spandex jackets one for everyone
What a beautiful world this will be
What a glorious time to be free
h/t Genius.com
The words and sentiment kept pestering my thinking. Simplifying, part of the IGY philsophy was to bring scientist together to discuss problems propose solutions.
Hearing this song, though, about how science and technology could advance and help us, I’m dismayed. Science and technology is under attack by many. Witness what’s been going on with the COVID-19 vaccines, along with other vaccines. (Point of order, many have derided vaccines for decades, so that’s not a clearly new development.)
So, let’s point out that people doubt what scientists are saying about global warming. This, despite the rise of sea waters, drought, melting ice caps, and increased extreme weather which scientists warned us about.
Led by hard right conservatives, people doubt the potential benefits of solar and wind power. Most focus on the negatives, ignoring the negatives behind the accepted energy sources like fossil-based fuels and nuclear energy.
Fagen talks about new technology like undersea trains taking us from New York to Paris in 90 minutes. I can’t help but wonder who that might help besides the people who can afford it. We already have space travel for the wealthy developing. Of course, they like to say that if space travel can become common enough, prices will come down.
But how much does space travel help the masses? For my end, I’d prefer to see high speed rail built in the United States so that it doesn’t takes days to cross the country and a small fortune, as it does now. Perhaps electric trains to move people and cargo so we’re not all crowding into commercial aircraft like sardines in a can.
And I’d rather see money and technology spent on solving problems that affect people every day, such as we saw happen with vaccines. Let’s do the same to battle cancer.
While saying all of this, I do remember a television show called “Connections“. James Burke hosted the show. The subject was about unexpected uses and benefits derived from technology, and how these improvements were connected through science and medicine, and the continual quest for improvement. So, while I poo-poo space travel for the wealthy, perhaps unexpected benefits will be derived to solve some of the problems our world faces.
Finally, Fagen mentions, “What a glorious time to be free.” Yet, war is on the rise. So are challenges to people’s basic rights.
Book banning is on the right, as is racism and white supremacy.
Doesn’t feel like a glorious time to be free.
Anyway, “I.G.Y. (What a Beautiful World)” is today’s theme music. Please listen to it and contemplate the ideas in it. I’d enjoy hearing what others thing. Perhaps, I’m just emerging as a pessimistic as I lean in toward my geezer years.
Time to saddle up this day and ride on toward the sunset. Be strong, stay safe and optimistic. Here’s the music. I got my coffee and I am a go. Cheers
I had car problems this week. They look like they’re now resolved, but a comment by a friend reminded me of a surprising recent trend, at least locally.
Three friends all had cars with a cracked windshield this year: Ford, Subaru, Toyota. None knew how the windshields broke, they just noticed cracks which were getting bigger. For each, it meant getting the windshield replaced, which was a high price and lengthy time, especially for the Toyota. Windshields are infrequently just a glass piece these days. They often have electronics and sensors embedded in them, or they’re linked to systems. Replacement requires a special machine and a specially trained individual to take out the old and put in the new and connect and calibrate everything. The machine required to replace the Toyota windshield was broken and required specialized repairs, which took months. In the case of the Ford, the specialist was out for a few weeks for reasons unknown.
I remember the old days, when a guy came to our house and replaced the windshield in an hour in the garage. My, how times have changed.
Michael Seidel, writer 