Well, you undoubtedly know the joke -- and there's probably more than a little truth in it -- but it goes like this: geeks who for whatever reason boycott Amazon (for spam, patent goofiness, high prices, whatever) are actually doing Amazon a favor and saving them money. The quickest way to run Amazon out of business is to actually buy stuff from them -- especially their "loss leader" products.
The article in the NYT seems to indicate that the majority (or at least *a* majority) of their products are loss leaders.
IIRC they gave the example of a roll of Polaroid film. After all the processing fees and whatever else needs to be extracted from the margin, Amazon actually loses a dollar on a 10 dollar (or whatever) roll of film.
I think, though, despite all the snideness (some of justified, yes) directed at Amazon by various communities of people (geeks, publishers, authors) we'll eventually see that the struggles of the "new economy" as defined (and solved, I hope) by Amazon will probably benefit everyone -- at least those of us involved in the "new econonmy" (whatever that is).
And -- but I'm sure this irony is lost on more than a few so-called "geeks" -- whatever solutions Amazons may uncover will most certainly preserve a good number of tech sector jobs that might otherwise be lost due to bad and idiotic managers too short-sighted (and *dumb*) to search for "profit solutions".
Okay this is slightly off-topic, but whatever happened to the ZapStation?
Last I'd heard, they were taking pre-orders and then -- suddenly -- nearly doubled their pre-order price -- from something like 499 (599?) to around 799 or 899.
Moving more on-topic... I gotta wonder: just what are these "media terminal" people actually thinking?
None of them -- with the sole exceptions of TIVO and Replay -- have made it to market. Zapstation, Indrema, and... what?... like this Nokia thing is gonna actually see the light of day?
You gotta hand it to TIVO and Replay -- they're coming up on 2 years old, no? I don't own a Replay, but I have a couple TIVOs. Despite the fact that the hardware is aging somewhat -- it's an amazingly forward-looking product.
The fact that it came out nearly 2 years ago (more?) just boggles my mind. I suppose the market conditions, as they say, were a little more favorable for "visionaries" two years ago (although one could debate whether or not the visionaries were actually "visionary") I'm amazed that something like TIVO -- which still really hasn't caught the fire of the mainstream, although the word itself has most definitely entered the cultural vocabulary -- made it off the drawing board and found itself in actual living rooms.
I don't begrudge failures like Indrema and (perhaps) the ZapStation, but I do get a little miffed when I read their product literature, actually want to buy the product, and then find out that not only is the product not out yet, it probably never will be and (in the case of Indrema, at least) has already gone belly-up.
I really hope the Nokia product makes it out of the gates. But with a Celeron 366 and a 20 gig hard drive -- you gotta wonder: why?
The XBOX is definitely the power house. Say what you will about Microsoft -- evil empire, deceptive business practices, short sighted managers giving stupid speeches about open source -- they're committed to it, got the developers to commit, and will deliver the goods.
And you bet, I'll be first in line for the XBOX -- assuming that they can overcome the PS2 problems with supply the first few days of release.
But Nokia? Dudes, just give me a price, a firm date, and I'll be there, too. But I have my doubts.
I always thought it was the latter -- either "make a buster" or "had a buster". Buster, of course, being synonmous for "fart" in the midwest. Or at least in my specifically midwestern high school where people used to sit in chem and phsyics class in hard plastic chairs and make a lot of loud, long busters.
Now, lest this post be marked off-topic, I'll say that as a former freshman comp teacher, I found myself spending more time checking search engines for "matching phrases" than I did actually grading and putting comments on student papers.
What's remarkable about cheaters -- freshmen cheaters in particular -- is that they tend to steal from the most obvious sources. I had one student in a film class filch an entire review from Roger Ebert. The only thing she changed was the byline on the review.
When confronted -- and I made the confrontation as quick and as business-like as possible -- she threatened to report *me* to the deans for harrassment. I laughed. She stormed out of the empty classrom and, sure enough, the next day I heard from a dean that I'd been "reported."
I explained the situation to the dean. He was floored by it -- floored by the cheating, the flagrant theft, and then floored finally by the formal report filed by the student.
I flunked the student. I was contacted by the parents and reported a second time. (I had *driven* the student to cheating because my teaching style was sub-par, said the parents)
A week or so later, I dutifully trudged down to the dean's office and came face to face with mommy and daddy. They were furious with me. "What was a graduate student doing teaching a class?"
The dean explained that, well, that was how it was usually done. We all agreed -- myself included -- that grad students weren't *always* the best teachers, but for the most part they were more than adequate and -- oddly enough -- sometimes *more* enthusiastic about the subject matter than their professional peers.
That was the end of that arguement but not the end of the case. The parents insisted that their daughter was innocent. I said, well, it's kinda hard to claim innocence when I have proof.
"Proof? What proof?"
"I have your daughter's paper and Ebert's review."
That's not proof, they insisted.
I was confused. I looked at the paper, looked at the review and then wondered aloud: er, what is it then?
It's proof of nothing, they said. That's not my daughter's paper.
The dean and I looked at each other.
Eh? I said.
The dean explained that, yeah, that *was* their daughter's paper.
"Did you see her turn that paper in? Did you see her give you that specific paper?"
I knew where this was going. The dean did, too. But the parents persisted. They wouldn't let this thing rest.
And on and on...
The thing was never really resolved. I personally didn't change the student's 'F'. As far as I was concerned, she flunked my class. But I could never get further confirmation from anyone if, in fact, my 'F' stuck. It was all very insidious.
Anyway, my point with all this?
Some students are lazy fuckers with peabrains. Many students are not.
The problem with this and many of Katz's other editorials is that while they profess "insight" they usually offer nothing more than spun spin that lacks depth and insight.
This is a perfect example. The *rise* of steganography?
Come on. Just because it's new to Katz doesn't mean that it's *new*.
Steganography is a fundamental part of encryption. There's neither nothing "new" about it nor anything that indicates -- BANG! out of nowhere! -- that it's on the "rise."
SDMI watermarking in particular may be new but the general concept is not.
Moreover, most of Katz's essays feel like they're the result of getting a "review copy" in the mail. Katz gets a free book -- maybe reads the whole thing, skims it, or just reads the last few chapters -- and then writes an essay.
For Katz, everything is new, earth-shattering, revolutionary, and dangerous. We're always all living at the beginning of a revolution.
The web revolution.
The computer revolution.
The napster revolution.
The corporate revolution.
The democratic revolution.
I could go on, but you get the point. Katz's vision often lacks coherence from one essay to another. In essay #1 the web is revolutionary. In essay #2 napster is revolutionary.
Well, which is it? I mean, is every new piece of software revolutionary? Is every new technological advancement revolutionary? (And who's to say what qualifies as an "advancement?") And if *everything* is revolutionary then doesn't that mean that nothing, really, is revolutionary?
The final point is Katz's arrogance. He will not respond to posts. Period. Katz's uses Slashdot as a mouthpiece but doesn't join in the chorus of voices. It's an arrogance that I find quite stunning -- and something that I'm surprised more people don't find offensive.
Maybe this is flame-bait. I don't know. Moderate me down. Go ahead. It's a troll. It's a flame. It's just, er, not nice. The idea of arrogance, yes, borders on an ad hominem attack and is probably not in the spirit of Slashdot.
But I can't close my eyes to the irony. Katz sees himself as a critic -- spokesperson, perhaps -- of the revolution. Of all the revolutions, you name it.
But in essence -- and I think this is a fair assessment -- he's a un-revolutionary as they come. His editorial distance is as distant as stand-offish as anyone in the mainstream press. He won't participate in the Slashdot community except to offer his "critiques" ex cathedra.
And then what? They waft off into the ether. He sees his mission as an instigator. I'm sure he prides himself on his ability to get his Slashdot audience to "talk." For this he is paid and patted on the back.
But if he wants to be a revolutionary -- if he wants to join in a real revolution -- then he should communicate with his readers. Be the author who responds. Not the traditional author divorced from his/her "voice".
This is the revolution, Katz -- the ability to utilize technology to subvert the cultural hegemonies of traditional authorship.
*If* you could get him to come and speak, you'd have an unforgettable event. (And I say that in a good way -- I'm a big fan of LB and suspect Durst [like Mick Jagger] is a super-savvy businessman.)
I think, though, you'll have to recast your wanting a "pro-Napster" speaker into something like "pro-Fair Use" or "pro-File Sharing" or "pro-P2P". In fact, you'd do your students more good (IMHO) if you look for critics of (but not apologists for) current "intellectual property" law. Folks who might shed some light on "Fair use", "Intellectual Property", and "Public Domain".
Even a constitutional expert versed in "copyright" would be a valuable speaker. (Just make sure they're not on the RIAA's tab.)
It'll be very difficult to find someone who will side unconditionally and uncritically with Napster (a corporation, remember!).
This is a great point -- the idea that 'copyright violation' is 'copyright violation'. Nothing more, nothing less. This is usually lost on Slashdot readers.
The problem with much of the rhetoric -- especially here on Slashdot -- is that people *always* resort to a metaphor to explain their point.
"Look, for the last time, it's like this. It's like if someone broke into your house, took your stuff, and then thumbed their nose at you. Nyaaa, nyaaa."
Or:
"Look, why can't you Slashdot readers understand? I'll attempt to explain it one more time. It's like this. It's like leaving the locks on doors open. And then advertising in a newspaper that your door locks are open."
This is the common way of framing an argument on Slashdot. You -- the authority -- attempt (for the last time) to explain the thing -- the *actual* thing -- to the proletariat in an attempt (one last time!) to force them to 'get a clue.'
But you (the obvious authority even though you are NAL, not a doctor, not a teacher, not a CEO, not a bum, not a rich man, not a poor woman, not part of the company in question, not a microsoft employee, not Richard Stallman, not a programmer, not an accountant, not a student, not a Perl advocate, not a techie, not a liberal arts graduate, not acquainted with the classics, not a fan of Shakespeare, not an admirer of Jon Katz, not an executive, and not a Napster user) never explain the thing itself.
You explain what the thing is *like*. You always explain that the thing-in-itself is *like* something else. Always. It never fails.
"Look. For the last fucking time. I'm going to explain it to the clueless Slashdot readers and maybe Katz will get a clue, too. It's like buying a car and then the car dealer forcing you every year to buy an upgrade."
Now don't get me wrong. Opinions are a good thing. (And yes, they are like assholes. But that's an old joke.) I'm glad everyone has opinions. And I'm glad, too, that here on Slashdot most posters are the first to *defend* an opinion if it gets attacked.
(See, even I'm falling into my own Slashdot fallacy -- establishing my authority in order to give readers (who probably aren't reading this entire post anyway) a clue ("Once and for all! For chrissake!").
I establish my authority -- which may or may not be valid -- by attempting to make a sweeping generalization about how most Slashdot posters -- including myself, in this very post -- frame arguments. The implied idea is that it's wrong -- it's wrong to use this method to frame an argument -- not only because it's tried and true but because it's sloppy logic and even sloppier writing. So what's the right way? That's the question. Good, persusavie rhetoric is a difficult thing. But I digress...)
But what if thing is not *like* something else? What if copyright violation is just, um, copyright violation?
If it's not theft, not murder, not rape, not like stealing from an empty house, not like an operating system, not like driving a car you haven't paid for -- then what is *it*?
Could it be, finally, that it's -- undiluted and undiminshed -- 'copyright violation?'
Is it even possible that a thing is just a thing? That everytime we use a metaphor to describe what it is we're actually describing more of what it's not and thereby diluting (precariously) what it is?
(And why -- especially with computers -- do we routinely resort to (imperfect) metaphors that are *not* grounded in computers?)
And finally: is it not the *difference* between the thing and the metaphor that describes the thing what really matters?
This difference -- that bridge between thing and metaphorical thing created by the metaphor of the thing -- is where (IMHO) the real *information* resides.
The best argument *against* "programs as expressive speech" I've read in recent days goes something like this:
Protected speech does not include speech that has as its "object" distinctly illegal content which is then acted upon.
For example, if I say, "Kill all the people living south of Main Street" and then I (or someone else) goes and does this (as a result of my speech), I cannot claim that my speech is protected under the first amendment. ("Hey, I was just saying stuff!")
I'm not sure if I've stated this clearly -- if anyone can improve upon this it would be most welcome.
But something like this -- my example above -- does bring up the essential conflict between *speech* and *action* and how they are related. It's one thing to say something, one thing to do something, but when the saying leads to the doing -- or when evidence can be found that doing has been done as a direct result of the saying -- then I suppose there is a legal problem.
Now, I'm aware that "causality" -- A *causes* B -- is a very, very difficult thing.
When we speak of "causes", we're really speaking of habit. There's no way to establish that A *always* causes B. But we can observe all the instances of A causing B and -- over the course of time -- we can say that, in most cases -- or at least in all observed cases thus far -- A causes B and will most likely continue to cause B ad infinitum.
But causality and habit move away from speech and into action. The two, I think, are seperate entities.
It would be interesting for the folks at the trial to bring in a literary critic -- or cultural critic -- and really examine the issues of what constitutes speech, what constitutes "code", and where "expressiveness" exists in the two entities.
As a writer writing fiction, I've often likened writing code to writing a short story. You have a problem -- complete the story, complete the code -- and you're forced to call upon your creative problem solving abilities to find the solution. And (and I know this rankles some, but I think it's true) some ways are better than others to solve a problem -- a short story or an application. We tend to qualify the solutions as "elegant" if they solve the problem in particularly interesting and clever ways. "Inelegant" might refer to a brute-force method of problem solving -- the problem is solved, but it wasn't pretty.
This applies to just about any creative endeavor (and I include coding as a "creative endeavor").
I've made the point -- to managers, teachers, students -- that oftentimes good programmers are wonderfully creative thinkers. They have to be in order to derive "elegant" algorithms or "clever" code. You can make a living brute-forcing your way through an application, but I'd bet money you won't derive nearly as much personal pleasure in brute-forcing as you would looking for elegant solutions to complex problems.
And here, I think, is where a case can be made for "expressive" content. If coding lacked "expressiveness" then we wouldn't need coding in the first place. We'd already have -- a priori -- a structure in place to solve every problem. All we would need to do is call upon the pre-existing structure to solve the problem. BLAMMO, it's done. (In fact, you could argue, that if this were the case, we wouldn't have problems in the first place. Everything would already be solved, written, and created. We'd live in a world -- much like Jorge Borges' Library of Babel where every text is already written using every possible combination of letters on any number of pages. True texts would exist alongside false texts, but there would be no way of knowing what is true and what is false. Think about it. Read the story -- "The Library of Babal" by Borges. It will severely whack your mind. I guarantee it.)
But because we don't have the luxury of pre-existing structures for every problem, coders must therefore sit down and frame the problem and begin to derive the solution. So here, I think, is where "expressiveness" comes in. Anything not already written needs to be "expressed" -- or framed -- in some way. There are multiple ways of framing problems and multiple ways of solving for single solutions. Some ways are better than others.
How then can you deny "expressiveness" in code? If, as I say, code lacked expressiveness, then there would be no code, no coders, no problems, and no need for solutions!
...but, since a supreme court ruling 1920's or so (in the US) corporations have been entitled to essentially the same rights as people under the law...
Wow. That's a fascinating point.
Doesn't this seem abusrd -- the notion that a "corporate" entity has the same rights (and obligations) as a "human" entity?
I guess the question, then, hinges on what are the requirements for a "moral code?" I'd always assumed "morality" and "ethics" were human creations. They were a fundamental part of any social-contract humans agree to live by and abide. (In other words, there's nothing "a priori" about morality or ethics. Morality was born out of our "humaness" and not something that exists outside of our "humaness".)
So to think that corporations have "moral" responsibilities and (and if that wasn't enough) those responsibilities are the same as the rights and responsibilities as humans -- that's really whacked. (Or seems to be whacked. Maybe I'm thinking too literally here.)
It's important to make the distinction, I guess, between two kinds of tech support:
(1) fixing a faulty product and
(2) explaining the complexities of a working product.
Case (1) is problematic because it's not always the case that the product is at fault when a fault occurs. (The OS, for example, can cause a working product not to work.)
Case (2) is problematic because a complexity -- or subtlety, however you want to spin it -- is sometimes misdiagnosed as (1).
One could (and while I do, I don't like it) make the logical leap that what Microsoft is doing with their attempts at a "closed" computer -- by, among other things, not allowing user installable cards and by forcing MS approved drivers -- is to make sure that case (1) no longer exists.
This is (in one -- and really only one -- sense) laudable. MS is acknowledging case (1) and is attempting to fix it. Of course it goes without saying that their fixes cause all kinds of problems not directly related to technical support. (Privacy problems, I suppose, top the list -- not to mention monopolistic concerns.)
The problem with this sort of approach -- apart from privacy and monopolistic business practices is that by fixed case (1), they'll cause case (2) problems to sky-rocket which will (I assume) cause a new case to be created -- case (3) customer ill-will which could obviate concerns for case (1) and case (2) since some pissed-off customers will ditch your product entirely.
The basic flaw in Katz's piece is his notion of "moral responsiblity" and "rightness."
My question is this: Is Katz correct when he asserts in the first paragraph that standing behind a product is the "seminal moral responsibility of any manufacturer, both in terms of what's smart and what's right"?
Is it possible (and I know this sounds bizarre, but it's the argument that Katz is making, I think) to make a moral argument for tech support? My initial response is no, it can't be done.
His is essentially a "meta-ethical" argument: an attempt to apply ethics and morality to entities other than humans. I'm no expert on meta-ethics but I'm curious about it. And I'm curious about whether or not Katz is right and, if he's right, where "corporate ethics" are derived from.
What does it mean, for example, when you say a "person is responsible for his actions?" Or when you say: "A person ought to do this?"
And how is this different when you replace the "person" with the corporation: a corporation ought to do this? Or "a corporation is responsible for its actions?" (Is the corporation responsible for its actions only when those actions conflict with or harm the larger social matrix in which corporations play distinct roles?)
I'm not vexed by the genesis of morality when we're talking about humans. Morality is derived from structure of human relations. It strives for goodness, or virtue, or whatever you want to call it. This makes sense to me.
But when you're talking about corporations -- and especially critiquing a corporation when it fails to do what it "ought" to do -- then here, at this point, I find the genesis of "rightness" to be murky.
Corporation are created by humans but their very nature makes them into a quite different entity. They're a collection of humans, yes, but legally (and here's another problem, I guess) they're defined as a "thing".
Where is the "ought" located when we talk about a thing that's not human? A corporation "ought" to do this or that -- but based on what?
Its relation to other corporations?
Its relationship to law?
Its relationships to captialism and democracy?
It relationships to its customers? ("It makes good business sense. Ergo, that's the way the moral compass should point.")
It's possible to define morality -- or at least narrow its scope -- when we talk about non-human species that are very close to humans in their genetic makeup. Chimps, for example. Or apes.
But how in the world do we define the "morality" of something far, far different than human beings? And who in the world can say that a corporation has a "moral obligation" to do something.
I guess you could argue that lack of tech support harms the public; therefore, corporations must provide tech support. But this seems a narrow argument: it depends on how you define "harm" and it depends (I assume) on whether or not the corporation made a good faith effort to create a usable product. Is it the corporation's fault that you (specifically) can't get their product working? Have they fulfilled their "obligation" by simply making a good faith effort to design a competent product? (And how do you prove incompetency? "Smoking gun" memos?)
What they should do is utilize the heat escaping from that chimney of theirs to power steam turbines.
Then use the turbines to drive generators.
Then send the power from those generators to the western united states.
Now -- follow me here -- this would be a self-sustaining system, no?
Users use google to search the web and read their embarrassing usenet posts from 1995. Power is generated. That power is funneled back to the user so that his or her computer stays on, the lights stay on, and they don't have to worry about getting stuck in an elevator during a rolling blackout.
Users are happy, nuclear opponents don't have to worry about radioactive leaks into the environment from improperly sealed cooling tanks and leaking water, and google remains up and active, chugging away ad infinitum.
Simple.
Tomorrow, I'll work on my plan for cold fusion. Maybe a couple of Guiness glasses filled with tapwater, a couple of batteries, and a beowulf cluster...
Which part of campaign contribution don't you understand? Democracy is easily usurped because it costs money to get votes, and the capitalists have all the money. So the would-be policy-maker has to pander to the capitalists' twisted desires in order to win.
Yes, I understand this. And I agree with it.
But then my question is this: is it because democracy provides the foundation for capitalism to thrive that capitalism and democracy are so often intertwined?
(And if this is the case -- which I assume it is -- then why is capitalism allowed to so easily trounce democracy and mold it into the shape it -- capitalism -- wants? Is this one of the essential arguments of the anti-globalization protesters? That capitalism too often holds democracy hostage to corporate interests?)
Off-topic, yes. But I'm genuinely curious especially if "convergence", as I argue above, is not so much the convergence of entertainment devices but is actually the convergence of democracy and capitalism to fool consumers into thinking that they've been empowered. (Maybe this is the Hegelian dialectic at work -- capitalism + democracy = synthesis of -- what?! -- electronic device that consumers believe (sincerely) that they cannot live without?
The ideal "converged" box is already here. I have it, and I'm sure others do, too.
It's the home-built PC, spec'd out to whatever needs doing at the present time -- TV tuner, MP3 jukebox, audio server (or satellite client), whatever.
I'm surprised that people -- especially slashdot folks -- keep seeking this so-called "elusive" grail. It seems that people are looking for a "formally converged" box. Something like TIVO + ZapStation with a little bit of the late Indrema's attitude thrown in for good measure.
But my question is -- and continues to be -- WHY? Why are folks seeking a formally converged box?
The answer is this: anyone who complains about the lack of a converged box has yet to grasp the simple fact that "convergence" -- at least in its "formal" sense -- is a synonym for "corporate control."
Why on earth -- and I mean this sincerely -- why on earth do we want to cede any more of our "entertainment enablement" to corporations?
Convergence is a dangerous thing. It's not something we should look forward to, nor is it something we should theoretically support. (I say theoretically because, in practice, I do love my TIVO and I *do* lust after the ZapStation [if only because it's got a pretty cool case and would fit in my stereo rack nicely].)
All the formally converged box will offer -- above and beyond our individually spec'd out home-built boxes -- is another way for corporations to impose their will (via their unending capital) upon consumers. The "will" is always masked as "choice" or "enablement." This is really a crucial point, and it's one I wish Katz would write about.
The problem is that corporate will is *always* -- always, always, always -- at the expense (literally and metaphorically) of consumers. Consumers will pay good money to have their rights curtailed. I don't understand this, and while, yes, I admit that I, too, do this, I force myself to become aware that even the most reasoned and savvy consumer is liable to be hypnotized by the siren-song of the corporations.
I'm still trying to understand how democracy is so easily usurped by capitalism -- and trying hard to see both sides of the globalization battles -- but what I see more and more is capitalism being used to undermine and eradicate the rights of citizens in democracies where the corporations are allowed to function. The problem area (for me, at least) is the role of corporations. (Take, for example, the doctrine of copyright and fair-use. Tell me -- seriously -- why so few politicians vocal about the concept of fair-use? Yeah, Hatch is worried about this -- but he remains cautious and will probably cede his concerns once the RIAA and MPAA convince him that in a digital age, there is no fair use.)
Anyway, I could go on. I won't.
But, please, don't worry about convergence. It's simply a pretty buzzword for a thing we don't want (but think we do -- this is the genius of democratic corporatization).
If you want the grail -- the ideal box -- go out, for godsakes, and build it yourself. Use Linux, Windows, BE -- whatever floats your boat.
Snag the hardware wherever you can find it cheapest.
Paint your informally converged box to match your stereo.
Whatever.
But don't look to corporate interests for the answer. They'll give you an answer -- and will do it with a smile on their faces -- but it will cost you. (Windows XP, I suspect, will be the proof of this -- as if it needs proof.)
Hey what's the deal with the "triple buzzword" effect?
For example:
-... re-assess their ability to deliver timely and important data to their employees, partners and customers.
- Digital Paths is your partner with the technology, performance, and vision...
But the triple buzzword rhetoric is everywhere. Look at any "mission statement" and you'll see this. These companies cluster groups of words together in "threes". It's always subject verb buzzword1, buzzword2, buzzword3.
The other thing I always notice about these so-called mission statements is the fucked-up rhetoric. Mission statements are usually pretty standard:
1) Acknowledge the general complexity of the current market
2) Point to specific tools company X provides
3) And then conclude that because of (1), if you allow (2) to be deployed, then you'll profit from (3).
Something along those lines, anyway.
But my question is this: do these mission statements persude anyone of anything? Or are they empty rhetoric?
I'm also curious about the rhetoric -- triple buzzwords notwithstanding. Why use such complex rhtetoric? Why not just do the Elmore Leonard approach (an approach that got him fired from his long-time writing job as a PR person at Chevrolet) and say, "We make kickass trucks?"
(Elmore Leonard, you'll remember, is the author of _Get Shorty_ and _Rum Punch_ among many, many others.)
Are these statements so complex because they're simply expected to be complex? (Complexity, in other words, is how they've always been done, so we want our to be complex, too!)
Or are they complex because they're presenting thoughts and ideas which demand complex rhetoric?
Do these mission statements -- especially from web consulting companies, but most every company is guilty of this -- really say absolutely nothing?
If computer games are to blame for the massacre, then my (probably rhetorical) question is this: how does one, exactly, define the 'realm of influence' of gaming (violent or non-violent) upon a young mind?
And, assuming that such a realm of influence can be defined or at least rationally argued, then where does this place the impact of the agent's free will and choice?
Is the real argument here that the young minds are so weak as to negate the possibility of free will?
And -- follow me here -- if free will and choice are out of the equation -- if young minds are not, in fact, capable of free will or choice because they have been incapble of such action through computer games -- then how can you possibly accuse these young minds of acting in an immoral fashion?
You'll remember that Kant remarked that autonomy is the basis for morality. We have to be free -- and able to make a choice -- in order to be moral creatures.
If free will and choice are not available to us -- then our actions can no longer be judged as either immoral or moral.
"Ought implies can," is the Kantian formation. A moral judgement can only be made where there is a possiblity that it cannot be made. Where there is a choice, in other words.
So it seems that these lawsuits are trying to negate the possibility of choice on the part of the children. The end result of this (correct me if I'm wrong here) is that then these lawsuits are simply de-moralizing the (obviously) immoral actions of these violent children.
Seriously: is Puff Daddy aware of how fucking stupid a name like 'Puff Diddy' is?
I mean, really.
Am i missing something here? Is there anything *not* stupid about the word -- or, worse yet, the *name* -- "Diddy?"
Sure, we've all sung diddies, but I defy anyone to deny that they've not cringed whenever they've actually admitted that they've sung a "diddy". It's something you admitted to your grandmother when you were in the third grade and asked you what you did in school for music. "Do you sing diddies?" your grandma asks. "Yes," you say. "We sing diddies." But you're in the third grade, for chrissake! And you're talking to an old person who doesn't see anything wrong with the word.
(She's the same person that asks you, one night at the dinner table, if you're a gay and happy boy, and you admit -- to her only -- that, yeah, you're gay. But it's "gay" in the happy way -- "I'm so happy! I'm so gay!" -- not gay in the way that gets you beat up on the playground. But this is all for the benefit of your grandmother -- slow-moving, slightly crocked, but lovable -- and has nothing to do with the hard, cruel, real world outside of the domain of your grandma.)
Yes. I know. This is off-topic. See my post about the cat and g-men above. That's on topic. Napster. Acoustic fingerprinting. Napster is fucked. Is this a surprise?
Napster's dead. If you pay their 'subscription fee' you're essentially paying 'protection money.'
You're paying Napster so that that wacko-fucked british IFPI -- or whatever it's called the phonographic protection corporation or whatever -- won't come calling on your ISP and come spamming your mailbox with letters threatening you breaking global laws.
And the protection money you're paying probably won't protect you. Napster will still cancel your account, you'll still get your internet access yanked, and the IFPI will have their way and besmirch your livelihood with accusations, allegations, and criminal charges.
Then it'll be hell to *cancel* your account with Napster. They'll probably include some fucked-up clause that states if you have copyrighted material, traffic in said material, and get caught -- you'll be fined $10,000 -- and -- guess what? -- we've got your credit card!
Hell, IFPI will start demanding credit card numbers from Napster so that they -- the fucking IFPI or whatever it's called -- can save you time and effort by circumventing the legal process (a process which, the IFPI will remind you, doesn't span global borders) and simply charging you whatever they think your infringements are worth.
They'll still cancel your internet account and, if they're having a particularly bad day, might just send federal agents to your door so that when you get out of the shower a couple of junior g-men will be standing there with all of your CDs, your computer equipment, and your pet cat -- all of which, they'll remind you, is proof that not only have you broken the law but you've broken it so horribly that the scope of your crime perhaps surpasses that of the rapists and murderers currently incarcerated across the world.
If you have any balls, you'll tell them to fuck the fuck off and drop your cat -- or else.
They agree. Sure, they say and drop the cat -- but not your computer equipment. All you need to do, fuckface, is sign this form.
And they'll give you a form to sign authorizing them -- Jeff the junior g-man and his frat-boy buddy, Tyler -- to charge your credit card 10,000 dollars.
Then you'll be left with a bunch of yanked power cords, a broken down swivel chair that you've used to compute on for six years, and a frazzled pet cat.
I'm not sure I fully understand P2P after reading Katz's essay. Wasn't the internet -- as it was originally designed in the first place -- designed as a "peer-to-peer" system? A system with no central authority, to allow nodes on the fringe to disconnect and reconnect, willy-nilly, etc?
So if everyone believe P2P to be the current trend, why not just deploy the internet over the internet? The current internet would become the 'metaspace' enveloping the new P2P internet (space).
So instead of starting with the big bang and expanding outward, we start with the metaspace and then deploy the P2P network inward within the fringes of the metaspace.
Or, to put it another way, imagine the metaspace is a big turkey. You get one of those cajun basting tools, fill it up with cajun goo (the "goo" would be analogous to mp3s, porn, warez) and then squeeze it -- using your basting tool -- into the turkey, thereby tenderizing it and making it quite tasty (this is analogous to all the happy users able to access the goo).
The turkey -- because it is already existing -- is the "metaspace" into which the goo is injected. The goo (porn, warez, mp3) can freely comingle within the barriers of the metaspace -- the turkey itself -- but (if the network is designed properly and the turkey has no holes) can never leak past the fringes.
I have to work on the analogy a bit, but I think you get the idea. The internet over the internet.
So it's not "Microsoft have..." or "Microsoft are.."
It's "Microsoft has..." and "Microsoft is..."
Yes, Microsoft is made up of multitudes, but the word itself -- the brand -- is singular.
But, yes, I could be wrong. I remember growing up in a small town and hearing people say, "I gotta go shopping at Krogers." (The store was called Kroger -- singular.) Or: "I work for Butlers." (The place was called Butler -- singular.)
It's an odd thing -- pluralizing singulars. But what the fuck. Language is messed up. I guess I gotta go back and read Wittgensteins.
Due to security reasons we do not allow nor do we have a feature to delete Passport accounts. Rest assured that if you do not access your account within 12 months our system will automatically delete your account
LOL. I hadn't thought of this excuse.
Look, due to security reasons I must backwards engineer your code. I can't explain it, but it's a part of my private genetic makeup. I'll be glad to supply you with my public genetic key, but, as you know, the private key must stay with me.
I must backwards engineer CSS.
I must hack BlueMatter.
I must attempt to thwart the latest SDMI watermarking scheme.
Rest assured (and this means you, Hilary, and you too, Jack Valenti -- even though, yeah, you're getting up there in years) that if I do not release my version of your encryption schemes, they will be deleted from my hard and from my memory banks. But, as you know, for security reasons, there's no way I can delete them manually. Nor is there any way that you -- Hilary or Jack or you spooks at the NSA -- can compel me to delete them sooner.
I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is. It's for security. You understand. I know you do.
Why couldn't something similar be used to backwards engineer code that (according to the law, at least) is illegal?
(Or is it just the act of backwards engineering that's illegal?)
Anyway, why couldn't someone write code that won't compile -- and is therefore not illegal -- but that would be easy to "fix?" (Introduce specific syntax errors at specific points that would prohibit compilation.)
Is the compilation therefore the thing that is illegal? Does the act of compilation work in concert with the code to create an illegal entity?
What's ironic about all this is that the courts are only going after the "text" -- the actual strings of letters and numbers in filenames and code -- and not (apparently) after that which the text represents (the actual "intellectual content").
The Napster filters seem to be proof of that. What the RIAA is concerned about is artist/filename combinations. Are these the things that are copyrighted? (Yes, I know, there's no way to detect the actual content -- but I would think that the content itself -- not just the strings and letters -- would be the proof of the violation. Just because I decide title all the letters to my sweetie "Enter Sandman - Metallica.mp3" does that make me liable to the RIAA?)
Look, I know this is Slashdot and not f--kedcompany.com, but I think this proves my infamous August, 1992 hypothesis.
Let me recap: I was a new graduate student at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. I was sitting in a coffee shop -- Amer's Cafe on State Street for you fellow Ann Arbor-ites -- and had just ordered an 'Amer's Cap' and settled down to a nice, grungy table with a copy of Wheelock's Latin (for the requisite foreign language requirement), a copy of Hannah Arendt's 'Eichmann in Jerusalem', and a copy of Raymond Carver's collected stories (I was in the MFA program there and dutifully reading through all the Carver, Richard Ford, Tobias Wolf, Bobbie Ann Mason, Joy Williams I could find) and suddenly got a pain in my stomach.
It was an odd pain. And -- sorta like the Woody Allen character in one of his 1980's flicks (Hannah? Misdemeanors?) -- was convinced (beyond a shadow of a doubt) that the pain was, in fact, a tumor and that the death-watch clock had started.
I tried to drink my Amer's cappucino (sp?) without much success. I kept wondering about this weird pain in my gut. I gave up on Wheelock, tried Carver, and decided the pain -- whatever it was -- was driving me batty. It wasn't a bad pain, just a little one. The sort of mild pain that always -- I was certain -- into the sort of pain that caused doctors to say, "Look, it's nothing. Don't worry. Just relax. Come back in six weeks if it's still there." Of course after six weeks you'd be dead.
So I left Amer's, walked down State street, poked my head into Borders, bought a New York Times, and then headed straight for the doctor.
The doctor was an old fat guy who immediately slapped on a rubber glove and told me to pull down my pants and roll on my side.
After he'd done what had to be done he said, "Look, don't worry. You need to relax. Come back in six weeks if the pain is still there."
I walked to the grad library, found an empty desk on the fourth floor, and started to read the Times. I was in a bad mood -- the rubber glove didn't help much -- and I couldn't concentrate. I flipped to the NYTimes business section -- a section I never read -- and there it was in black and white: companies were registering domain names for $70 bucks (it might have been more, I don't remember) and that some of the names were wacky: they were misspellings of common words but the registrants were sure that one day these domain names -- and the web in general -- would be big. Really big. They were like the speculators in the Wild West.
I had a flash that maybe I should register Business.com (no kidding). But then I remembered I was a graduate student and seventy bucks was my walking around money for the *entire month*. So I let that idea slide. (That was my mistake.)
But then I had a second flash -- sitting there in the Harlan Hatcher library and staring out at the campus from my tiny window -- and I said to myself: you know, I bet every business is gonna try to put 'e' before their name. We'll have eLiquor.com. eBeer.com. eCoffee.com. (Since everyone was talking about e-commerce and the promises it heralded.)
And then I had my third -- and last -- flash -- the flash that would become my 1992 hypothesis: that any business with the 'e' in the title will surely be fucked. Maybe not in 1992. Maybe not in 1996. But one day, all these fucking eBusinesses are gonna be fucked. Fucked, fucked, fucked.
eThis, Chief.
And here, today, sitting at my desk, I remembered all this. Remembered my three flashes that morning on the fourth floor of the Harlan Hatcher Graduate library on the campus of the University of Michigan. Remembered my theory about the 'e' before the name. Remembered that it took me six weeks to get rid of that fucking pain in my gut -- three doctors, lots of aspirin and cranberry juice -- until one doctor -- the only one who didn't slap on a rubber glove and turn me on my side -- said, idly, "Have you tried taking some Pepcid?"
Slashdot Mirror
Well, you undoubtedly know the joke -- and there's probably more than a little truth in it -- but it goes like this: geeks who for whatever reason boycott Amazon (for spam, patent goofiness, high prices, whatever) are actually doing Amazon a favor and saving them money. The quickest way to run Amazon out of business is to actually buy stuff from them -- especially their "loss leader" products.
The article in the NYT seems to indicate that the majority (or at least *a* majority) of their products are loss leaders.
IIRC they gave the example of a roll of Polaroid film. After all the processing fees and whatever else needs to be extracted from the margin, Amazon actually loses a dollar on a 10 dollar (or whatever) roll of film.
I think, though, despite all the snideness (some of justified, yes) directed at Amazon by various communities of people (geeks, publishers, authors) we'll eventually see that the struggles of the "new economy" as defined (and solved, I hope) by Amazon will probably benefit everyone -- at least those of us involved in the "new econonmy" (whatever that is).
And -- but I'm sure this irony is lost on more than a few so-called "geeks" -- whatever solutions Amazons may uncover will most certainly preserve a good number of tech sector jobs that might otherwise be lost due to bad and idiotic managers too short-sighted (and *dumb*) to search for "profit solutions".
Okay this is slightly off-topic, but whatever happened to the ZapStation?
... I gotta wonder: just what are these "media terminal" people actually thinking?
... what? ... like this Nokia thing is gonna actually see the light of day?
Last I'd heard, they were taking pre-orders and then -- suddenly -- nearly doubled their pre-order price -- from something like 499 (599?) to around 799 or 899.
Moving more on-topic
None of them -- with the sole exceptions of TIVO and Replay -- have made it to market. Zapstation, Indrema, and
You gotta hand it to TIVO and Replay -- they're coming up on 2 years old, no? I don't own a Replay, but I have a couple TIVOs. Despite the fact that the hardware is aging somewhat -- it's an amazingly forward-looking product.
The fact that it came out nearly 2 years ago (more?) just boggles my mind. I suppose the market conditions, as they say, were a little more favorable for "visionaries" two years ago (although one could debate whether or not the visionaries were actually "visionary") I'm amazed that something like TIVO -- which still really hasn't caught the fire of the mainstream, although the word itself has most definitely entered the cultural vocabulary -- made it off the drawing board and found itself in actual living rooms.
I don't begrudge failures like Indrema and (perhaps) the ZapStation, but I do get a little miffed when I read their product literature, actually want to buy the product, and then find out that not only is the product not out yet, it probably never will be and (in the case of Indrema, at least) has already gone belly-up.
I really hope the Nokia product makes it out of the gates. But with a Celeron 366 and a 20 gig hard drive -- you gotta wonder: why?
The XBOX is definitely the power house. Say what you will about Microsoft -- evil empire, deceptive business practices, short sighted managers giving stupid speeches about open source -- they're committed to it, got the developers to commit, and will deliver the goods.
And you bet, I'll be first in line for the XBOX -- assuming that they can overcome the PS2 problems with supply the first few days of release.
But Nokia? Dudes, just give me a price, a firm date, and I'll be there, too. But I have my doubts.
Do you "get buster" or "make a buster?"
...
I always thought it was the latter -- either "make a buster" or "had a buster". Buster, of course, being synonmous for "fart" in the midwest. Or at least in my specifically midwestern high school where people used to sit in chem and phsyics class in hard plastic chairs and make a lot of loud, long busters.
Now, lest this post be marked off-topic, I'll say that as a former freshman comp teacher, I found myself spending more time checking search engines for "matching phrases" than I did actually grading and putting comments on student papers.
What's remarkable about cheaters -- freshmen cheaters in particular -- is that they tend to steal from the most obvious sources. I had one student in a film class filch an entire review from Roger Ebert. The only thing she changed was the byline on the review.
When confronted -- and I made the confrontation as quick and as business-like as possible -- she threatened to report *me* to the deans for harrassment. I laughed. She stormed out of the empty classrom and, sure enough, the next day I heard from a dean that I'd been "reported."
I explained the situation to the dean. He was floored by it -- floored by the cheating, the flagrant theft, and then floored finally by the formal report filed by the student.
I flunked the student. I was contacted by the parents and reported a second time. (I had *driven* the student to cheating because my teaching style was sub-par, said the parents)
A week or so later, I dutifully trudged down to the dean's office and came face to face with mommy and daddy. They were furious with me. "What was a graduate student doing teaching a class?"
The dean explained that, well, that was how it was usually done. We all agreed -- myself included -- that grad students weren't *always* the best teachers, but for the most part they were more than adequate and -- oddly enough -- sometimes *more* enthusiastic about the subject matter than their professional peers.
That was the end of that arguement but not the end of the case. The parents insisted that their daughter was innocent. I said, well, it's kinda hard to claim innocence when I have proof.
"Proof? What proof?"
"I have your daughter's paper and Ebert's review."
That's not proof, they insisted.
I was confused. I looked at the paper, looked at the review and then wondered aloud: er, what is it then?
It's proof of nothing, they said. That's not my daughter's paper.
The dean and I looked at each other.
Eh? I said.
The dean explained that, yeah, that *was* their daughter's paper.
"Did you see her turn that paper in? Did you see her give you that specific paper?"
I knew where this was going. The dean did, too. But the parents persisted. They wouldn't let this thing rest.
And on and on
The thing was never really resolved. I personally didn't change the student's 'F'. As far as I was concerned, she flunked my class. But I could never get further confirmation from anyone if, in fact, my 'F' stuck. It was all very insidious.
Anyway, my point with all this?
Some students are lazy fuckers with peabrains. Many students are not.
The lazy fuckers deserve to get caught and flunk.
The problem with this and many of Katz's other editorials is that while they profess "insight" they usually offer nothing more than spun spin that lacks depth and insight.
This is a perfect example. The *rise* of steganography?
Come on. Just because it's new to Katz doesn't mean that it's *new*.
Steganography is a fundamental part of encryption. There's neither nothing "new" about it nor anything that indicates -- BANG! out of nowhere! -- that it's on the "rise."
SDMI watermarking in particular may be new but the general concept is not.
Moreover, most of Katz's essays feel like they're the result of getting a "review copy" in the mail. Katz gets a free book -- maybe reads the whole thing, skims it, or just reads the last few chapters -- and then writes an essay.
For Katz, everything is new, earth-shattering, revolutionary, and dangerous. We're always all living at the beginning of a revolution.
The web revolution.
The computer revolution.
The napster revolution.
The corporate revolution.
The democratic revolution.
I could go on, but you get the point. Katz's vision often lacks coherence from one essay to another. In essay #1 the web is revolutionary. In essay #2 napster is revolutionary.
Well, which is it? I mean, is every new piece of software revolutionary? Is every new technological advancement revolutionary? (And who's to say what qualifies as an "advancement?") And if *everything* is revolutionary then doesn't that mean that nothing, really, is revolutionary?
The final point is Katz's arrogance. He will not respond to posts. Period. Katz's uses Slashdot as a mouthpiece but doesn't join in the chorus of voices. It's an arrogance that I find quite stunning -- and something that I'm surprised more people don't find offensive.
Maybe this is flame-bait. I don't know. Moderate me down. Go ahead. It's a troll. It's a flame. It's just, er, not nice. The idea of arrogance, yes, borders on an ad hominem attack and is probably not in the spirit of Slashdot.
But I can't close my eyes to the irony. Katz sees himself as a critic -- spokesperson, perhaps -- of the revolution. Of all the revolutions, you name it.
But in essence -- and I think this is a fair assessment -- he's a un-revolutionary as they come. His editorial distance is as distant as stand-offish as anyone in the mainstream press. He won't participate in the Slashdot community except to offer his "critiques" ex cathedra.
And then what? They waft off into the ether. He sees his mission as an instigator. I'm sure he prides himself on his ability to get his Slashdot audience to "talk." For this he is paid and patted on the back.
But if he wants to be a revolutionary -- if he wants to join in a real revolution -- then he should communicate with his readers. Be the author who responds. Not the traditional author divorced from his/her "voice".
This is the revolution, Katz -- the ability to utilize technology to subvert the cultural hegemonies of traditional authorship.
Get Fred Durst of Limp Bizkit.
*If* you could get him to come and speak, you'd have an unforgettable event. (And I say that in a good way -- I'm a big fan of LB and suspect Durst [like Mick Jagger] is a super-savvy businessman.)
I think, though, you'll have to recast your wanting a "pro-Napster" speaker into something like "pro-Fair Use" or "pro-File Sharing" or "pro-P2P". In fact, you'd do your students more good (IMHO) if you look for critics of (but not apologists for) current "intellectual property" law. Folks who might shed some light on "Fair use", "Intellectual Property", and "Public Domain".
Even a constitutional expert versed in "copyright" would be a valuable speaker. (Just make sure they're not on the RIAA's tab.)
It'll be very difficult to find someone who will side unconditionally and uncritically with Napster (a corporation, remember!).
This is a great point -- the idea that 'copyright violation' is 'copyright violation'. Nothing more, nothing less. This is usually lost on Slashdot readers.
...)
The problem with much of the rhetoric -- especially here on Slashdot -- is that people *always* resort to a metaphor to explain their point.
"Look, for the last time, it's like this. It's like if someone broke into your house, took your stuff, and then thumbed their nose at you. Nyaaa, nyaaa."
Or:
"Look, why can't you Slashdot readers understand? I'll attempt to explain it one more time. It's like this. It's like leaving the locks on doors open. And then advertising in a newspaper that your door locks are open."
This is the common way of framing an argument on Slashdot. You -- the authority -- attempt (for the last time) to explain the thing -- the *actual* thing -- to the proletariat in an attempt (one last time!) to force them to 'get a clue.'
But you (the obvious authority even though you are NAL, not a doctor, not a teacher, not a CEO, not a bum, not a rich man, not a poor woman, not part of the company in question, not a microsoft employee, not Richard Stallman, not a programmer, not an accountant, not a student, not a Perl advocate, not a techie, not a liberal arts graduate, not acquainted with the classics, not a fan of Shakespeare, not an admirer of Jon Katz, not an executive, and not a Napster user) never explain the thing itself.
You explain what the thing is *like*. You always explain that the thing-in-itself is *like* something else. Always. It never fails.
"Look. For the last fucking time. I'm going to explain it to the clueless Slashdot readers and maybe Katz will get a clue, too. It's like buying a car and then the car dealer forcing you every year to buy an upgrade."
Now don't get me wrong. Opinions are a good thing. (And yes, they are like assholes. But that's an old joke.) I'm glad everyone has opinions. And I'm glad, too, that here on Slashdot most posters are the first to *defend* an opinion if it gets attacked.
(See, even I'm falling into my own Slashdot fallacy -- establishing my authority in order to give readers (who probably aren't reading this entire post anyway) a clue ("Once and for all! For chrissake!").
I establish my authority -- which may or may not be valid -- by attempting to make a sweeping generalization about how most Slashdot posters -- including myself, in this very post -- frame arguments. The implied idea is that it's wrong -- it's wrong to use this method to frame an argument -- not only because it's tried and true but because it's sloppy logic and even sloppier writing. So what's the right way? That's the question. Good, persusavie rhetoric is a difficult thing. But I digress
But what if thing is not *like* something else? What if copyright violation is just, um, copyright violation?
If it's not theft, not murder, not rape, not like stealing from an empty house, not like an operating system, not like driving a car you haven't paid for -- then what is *it*?
Could it be, finally, that it's -- undiluted and undiminshed -- 'copyright violation?'
Is it even possible that a thing is just a thing? That everytime we use a metaphor to describe what it is we're actually describing more of what it's not and thereby diluting (precariously) what it is?
(And why -- especially with computers -- do we routinely resort to (imperfect) metaphors that are *not* grounded in computers?)
And finally: is it not the *difference* between the thing and the metaphor that describes the thing what really matters?
This difference -- that bridge between thing and metaphorical thing created by the metaphor of the thing -- is where (IMHO) the real *information* resides.
The best argument *against* "programs as expressive speech" I've read in recent days goes something like this:
Protected speech does not include speech that has as its "object" distinctly illegal content which is then acted upon.
For example, if I say, "Kill all the people living south of Main Street" and then I (or someone else) goes and does this (as a result of my speech), I cannot claim that my speech is protected under the first amendment. ("Hey, I was just saying stuff!")
I'm not sure if I've stated this clearly -- if anyone can improve upon this it would be most welcome.
But something like this -- my example above -- does bring up the essential conflict between *speech* and *action* and how they are related. It's one thing to say something, one thing to do something, but when the saying leads to the doing -- or when evidence can be found that doing has been done as a direct result of the saying -- then I suppose there is a legal problem.
Now, I'm aware that "causality" -- A *causes* B -- is a very, very difficult thing.
When we speak of "causes", we're really speaking of habit. There's no way to establish that A *always* causes B. But we can observe all the instances of A causing B and -- over the course of time -- we can say that, in most cases -- or at least in all observed cases thus far -- A causes B and will most likely continue to cause B ad infinitum.
But causality and habit move away from speech and into action. The two, I think, are seperate entities.
It would be interesting for the folks at the trial to bring in a literary critic -- or cultural critic -- and really examine the issues of what constitutes speech, what constitutes "code", and where "expressiveness" exists in the two entities.
As a writer writing fiction, I've often likened writing code to writing a short story. You have a problem -- complete the story, complete the code -- and you're forced to call upon your creative problem solving abilities to find the solution. And (and I know this rankles some, but I think it's true) some ways are better than others to solve a problem -- a short story or an application. We tend to qualify the solutions as "elegant" if they solve the problem in particularly interesting and clever ways. "Inelegant" might refer to a brute-force method of problem solving -- the problem is solved, but it wasn't pretty.
This applies to just about any creative endeavor (and I include coding as a "creative endeavor").
I've made the point -- to managers, teachers, students -- that oftentimes good programmers are wonderfully creative thinkers. They have to be in order to derive "elegant" algorithms or "clever" code. You can make a living brute-forcing your way through an application, but I'd bet money you won't derive nearly as much personal pleasure in brute-forcing as you would looking for elegant solutions to complex problems.
And here, I think, is where a case can be made for "expressive" content. If coding lacked "expressiveness" then we wouldn't need coding in the first place. We'd already have -- a priori -- a structure in place to solve every problem. All we would need to do is call upon the pre-existing structure to solve the problem. BLAMMO, it's done. (In fact, you could argue, that if this were the case, we wouldn't have problems in the first place. Everything would already be solved, written, and created. We'd live in a world -- much like Jorge Borges' Library of Babel where every text is already written using every possible combination of letters on any number of pages. True texts would exist alongside false texts, but there would be no way of knowing what is true and what is false. Think about it. Read the story -- "The Library of Babal" by Borges. It will severely whack your mind. I guarantee it.)
But because we don't have the luxury of pre-existing structures for every problem, coders must therefore sit down and frame the problem and begin to derive the solution. So here, I think, is where "expressiveness" comes in. Anything not already written needs to be "expressed" -- or framed -- in some way. There are multiple ways of framing problems and multiple ways of solving for single solutions. Some ways are better than others.
How then can you deny "expressiveness" in code? If, as I say, code lacked expressiveness, then there would be no code, no coders, no problems, and no need for solutions!
...but, since a supreme court ruling 1920's or so (in the US) corporations have been entitled to essentially the same rights as people under the law...
Wow. That's a fascinating point.
Doesn't this seem abusrd -- the notion that a "corporate" entity has the same rights (and obligations) as a "human" entity?
I guess the question, then, hinges on what are the requirements for a "moral code?" I'd always assumed "morality" and "ethics" were human creations. They were a fundamental part of any social-contract humans agree to live by and abide. (In other words, there's nothing "a priori" about morality or ethics. Morality was born out of our "humaness" and not something that exists outside of our "humaness".)
So to think that corporations have "moral" responsibilities and (and if that wasn't enough) those responsibilities are the same as the rights and responsibilities as humans -- that's really whacked. (Or seems to be whacked. Maybe I'm thinking too literally here.)
It's important to make the distinction, I guess, between two kinds of tech support:
(1) fixing a faulty product and
(2) explaining the complexities of a working product.
Case (1) is problematic because it's not always the case that the product is at fault when a fault occurs. (The OS, for example, can cause a working product not to work.)
Case (2) is problematic because a complexity -- or subtlety, however you want to spin it -- is sometimes misdiagnosed as (1).
One could (and while I do, I don't like it) make the logical leap that what Microsoft is doing with their attempts at a "closed" computer -- by, among other things, not allowing user installable cards and by forcing MS approved drivers -- is to make sure that case (1) no longer exists.
This is (in one -- and really only one -- sense) laudable. MS is acknowledging case (1) and is attempting to fix it. Of course it goes without saying that their fixes cause all kinds of problems not directly related to technical support. (Privacy problems, I suppose, top the list -- not to mention monopolistic concerns.)
The problem with this sort of approach -- apart from privacy and monopolistic business practices is that by fixed case (1), they'll cause case (2) problems to sky-rocket which will (I assume) cause a new case to be created -- case (3) customer ill-will which could obviate concerns for case (1) and case (2) since some pissed-off customers will ditch your product entirely.
The basic flaw in Katz's piece is his notion of "moral responsiblity" and "rightness."
My question is this: Is Katz correct when he asserts in the first paragraph that standing behind a product is the "seminal moral responsibility of any manufacturer, both in terms of what's smart and what's right"?
Is it possible (and I know this sounds bizarre, but it's the argument that Katz is making, I think) to make a moral argument for tech support? My initial response is no, it can't be done.
His is essentially a "meta-ethical" argument: an attempt to apply ethics and morality to entities other than humans. I'm no expert on meta-ethics but I'm curious about it. And I'm curious about whether or not Katz is right and, if he's right, where "corporate ethics" are derived from.
What does it mean, for example, when you say a "person is responsible for his actions?" Or when you say: "A person ought to do this?"
And how is this different when you replace the "person" with the corporation: a corporation ought to do this? Or "a corporation is responsible for its actions?" (Is the corporation responsible for its actions only when those actions conflict with or harm the larger social matrix in which corporations play distinct roles?)
I'm not vexed by the genesis of morality when we're talking about humans. Morality is derived from structure of human relations. It strives for goodness, or virtue, or whatever you want to call it. This makes sense to me.
But when you're talking about corporations -- and especially critiquing a corporation when it fails to do what it "ought" to do -- then here, at this point, I find the genesis of "rightness" to be murky.
Corporation are created by humans but their very nature makes them into a quite different entity. They're a collection of humans, yes, but legally (and here's another problem, I guess) they're defined as a "thing".
Where is the "ought" located when we talk about a thing that's not human? A corporation "ought" to do this or that -- but based on what?
Its relation to other corporations?
Its relationship to law?
Its relationships to captialism and democracy?
It relationships to its customers? ("It makes good business sense. Ergo, that's the way the moral compass should point.")
It's possible to define morality -- or at least narrow its scope -- when we talk about non-human species that are very close to humans in their genetic makeup. Chimps, for example. Or apes.
But how in the world do we define the "morality" of something far, far different than human beings? And who in the world can say that a corporation has a "moral obligation" to do something.
I guess you could argue that lack of tech support harms the public; therefore, corporations must provide tech support. But this seems a narrow argument: it depends on how you define "harm" and it depends (I assume) on whether or not the corporation made a good faith effort to create a usable product. Is it the corporation's fault that you (specifically) can't get their product working? Have they fulfilled their "obligation" by simply making a good faith effort to design a competent product? (And how do you prove incompetency? "Smoking gun" memos?)
What they should do is utilize the heat escaping from that chimney of theirs to power steam turbines.
...
Then use the turbines to drive generators.
Then send the power from those generators to the western united states.
Now -- follow me here -- this would be a self-sustaining system, no?
Users use google to search the web and read their embarrassing usenet posts from 1995. Power is generated. That power is funneled back to the user so that his or her computer stays on, the lights stay on, and they don't have to worry about getting stuck in an elevator during a rolling blackout.
Users are happy, nuclear opponents don't have to worry about radioactive leaks into the environment from improperly sealed cooling tanks and leaking water, and google remains up and active, chugging away ad infinitum.
Simple.
Tomorrow, I'll work on my plan for cold fusion. Maybe a couple of Guiness glasses filled with tapwater, a couple of batteries, and a beowulf cluster
Which part of campaign contribution don't you understand? Democracy is easily usurped because it costs money to get votes, and the capitalists have all the money. So the would-be policy-maker has to pander to the capitalists' twisted desires in order to win.
Yes, I understand this. And I agree with it.
But then my question is this: is it because democracy provides the foundation for capitalism to thrive that capitalism and democracy are so often intertwined?
(And if this is the case -- which I assume it is -- then why is capitalism allowed to so easily trounce democracy and mold it into the shape it -- capitalism -- wants? Is this one of the essential arguments of the anti-globalization protesters? That capitalism too often holds democracy hostage to corporate interests?)
Off-topic, yes. But I'm genuinely curious especially if "convergence", as I argue above, is not so much the convergence of entertainment devices but is actually the convergence of democracy and capitalism to fool consumers into thinking that they've been empowered. (Maybe this is the Hegelian dialectic at work -- capitalism + democracy = synthesis of -- what?! -- electronic device that consumers believe (sincerely) that they cannot live without?
The ideal "converged" box is already here. I have it, and I'm sure others do, too.
It's the home-built PC, spec'd out to whatever needs doing at the present time -- TV tuner, MP3 jukebox, audio server (or satellite client), whatever.
I'm surprised that people -- especially slashdot folks -- keep seeking this so-called "elusive" grail. It seems that people are looking for a "formally converged" box. Something like TIVO + ZapStation with a little bit of the late Indrema's attitude thrown in for good measure.
But my question is -- and continues to be -- WHY? Why are folks seeking a formally converged box?
The answer is this: anyone who complains about the lack of a converged box has yet to grasp the simple fact that "convergence" -- at least in its "formal" sense -- is a synonym for "corporate control."
Why on earth -- and I mean this sincerely -- why on earth do we want to cede any more of our "entertainment enablement" to corporations?
Convergence is a dangerous thing. It's not something we should look forward to, nor is it something we should theoretically support. (I say theoretically because, in practice, I do love my TIVO and I *do* lust after the ZapStation [if only because it's got a pretty cool case and would fit in my stereo rack nicely].)
All the formally converged box will offer -- above and beyond our individually spec'd out home-built boxes -- is another way for corporations to impose their will (via their unending capital) upon consumers. The "will" is always masked as "choice" or "enablement." This is really a crucial point, and it's one I wish Katz would write about.
The problem is that corporate will is *always* -- always, always, always -- at the expense (literally and metaphorically) of consumers. Consumers will pay good money to have their rights curtailed. I don't understand this, and while, yes, I admit that I, too, do this, I force myself to become aware that even the most reasoned and savvy consumer is liable to be hypnotized by the siren-song of the corporations.
I'm still trying to understand how democracy is so easily usurped by capitalism -- and trying hard to see both sides of the globalization battles -- but what I see more and more is capitalism being used to undermine and eradicate the rights of citizens in democracies where the corporations are allowed to function. The problem area (for me, at least) is the role of corporations. (Take, for example, the doctrine of copyright and fair-use. Tell me -- seriously -- why so few politicians vocal about the concept of fair-use? Yeah, Hatch is worried about this -- but he remains cautious and will probably cede his concerns once the RIAA and MPAA convince him that in a digital age, there is no fair use.)
Anyway, I could go on. I won't.
But, please, don't worry about convergence. It's simply a pretty buzzword for a thing we don't want (but think we do -- this is the genius of democratic corporatization).
If you want the grail -- the ideal box -- go out, for godsakes, and build it yourself. Use Linux, Windows, BE -- whatever floats your boat.
Snag the hardware wherever you can find it cheapest.
Paint your informally converged box to match your stereo.
Whatever.
But don't look to corporate interests for the answer. They'll give you an answer -- and will do it with a smile on their faces -- but it will cost you. (Windows XP, I suspect, will be the proof of this -- as if it needs proof.)
Hey what's the deal with the "triple buzzword" effect?
... re-assess their ability to deliver timely and important data to their employees, partners and customers.
...
For example:
-
- Digital Paths is your partner with the technology, performance, and vision
But the triple buzzword rhetoric is everywhere. Look at any "mission statement" and you'll see this. These companies cluster groups of words together in "threes". It's always subject verb buzzword1, buzzword2, buzzword3.
The other thing I always notice about these so-called mission statements is the fucked-up rhetoric. Mission statements are usually pretty standard:
1) Acknowledge the general complexity of the current market
2) Point to specific tools company X provides
3) And then conclude that because of (1), if you allow (2) to be deployed, then you'll profit from (3).
Something along those lines, anyway.
But my question is this: do these mission statements persude anyone of anything? Or are they empty rhetoric?
I'm also curious about the rhetoric -- triple buzzwords notwithstanding. Why use such complex rhtetoric? Why not just do the Elmore Leonard approach (an approach that got him fired from his long-time writing job as a PR person at Chevrolet) and say, "We make kickass trucks?"
(Elmore Leonard, you'll remember, is the author of _Get Shorty_ and _Rum Punch_ among many, many others.)
Are these statements so complex because they're simply expected to be complex? (Complexity, in other words, is how they've always been done, so we want our to be complex, too!)
Or are they complex because they're presenting thoughts and ideas which demand complex rhetoric?
Do these mission statements -- especially from web consulting companies, but most every company is guilty of this -- really say absolutely nothing?
If computer games are to blame for the massacre, then my (probably rhetorical) question is this: how does one, exactly, define the 'realm of influence' of gaming (violent or non-violent) upon a young mind?
And, assuming that such a realm of influence can be defined or at least rationally argued, then where does this place the impact of the agent's free will and choice?
Is the real argument here that the young minds are so weak as to negate the possibility of free will?
And -- follow me here -- if free will and choice are out of the equation -- if young minds are not, in fact, capable of free will or choice because they have been incapble of such action through computer games -- then how can you possibly accuse these young minds of acting in an immoral fashion?
You'll remember that Kant remarked that autonomy is the basis for morality. We have to be free -- and able to make a choice -- in order to be moral creatures.
If free will and choice are not available to us -- then our actions can no longer be judged as either immoral or moral.
"Ought implies can," is the Kantian formation. A moral judgement can only be made where there is a possiblity that it cannot be made. Where there is a choice, in other words.
So it seems that these lawsuits are trying to negate the possibility of choice on the part of the children. The end result of this (correct me if I'm wrong here) is that then these lawsuits are simply de-moralizing the (obviously) immoral actions of these violent children.
Why is this not like "lemon laws"?
Simple: cars don't have a right to privacy.
Period.
Seriously: is Puff Daddy aware of how fucking stupid a name like 'Puff Diddy' is?
I mean, really.
Am i missing something here? Is there anything *not* stupid about the word -- or, worse yet, the *name* -- "Diddy?"
Sure, we've all sung diddies, but I defy anyone to deny that they've not cringed whenever they've actually admitted that they've sung a "diddy". It's something you admitted to your grandmother when you were in the third grade and asked you what you did in school for music. "Do you sing diddies?" your grandma asks. "Yes," you say. "We sing diddies." But you're in the third grade, for chrissake! And you're talking to an old person who doesn't see anything wrong with the word.
(She's the same person that asks you, one night at the dinner table, if you're a gay and happy boy, and you admit -- to her only -- that, yeah, you're gay. But it's "gay" in the happy way -- "I'm so happy! I'm so gay!" -- not gay in the way that gets you beat up on the playground. But this is all for the benefit of your grandmother -- slow-moving, slightly crocked, but lovable -- and has nothing to do with the hard, cruel, real world outside of the domain of your grandma.)
Yes. I know. This is off-topic. See my post about the cat and g-men above. That's on topic. Napster. Acoustic fingerprinting. Napster is fucked. Is this a surprise?
Wait, didn't Puff Daddy change his name to 'Diddy P?'
Napster's dead. If you pay their 'subscription fee' you're essentially paying 'protection money.'
You're paying Napster so that that wacko-fucked british IFPI -- or whatever it's called the phonographic protection corporation or whatever -- won't come calling on your ISP and come spamming your mailbox with letters threatening you breaking global laws.
And the protection money you're paying probably won't protect you. Napster will still cancel your account, you'll still get your internet access yanked, and the IFPI will have their way and besmirch your livelihood with accusations, allegations, and criminal charges.
Then it'll be hell to *cancel* your account with Napster. They'll probably include some fucked-up clause that states if you have copyrighted material, traffic in said material, and get caught -- you'll be fined $10,000 -- and -- guess what? -- we've got your credit card!
Hell, IFPI will start demanding credit card numbers from Napster so that they -- the fucking IFPI or whatever it's called -- can save you time and effort by circumventing the legal process (a process which, the IFPI will remind you, doesn't span global borders) and simply charging you whatever they think your infringements are worth.
They'll still cancel your internet account and, if they're having a particularly bad day, might just send federal agents to your door so that when you get out of the shower a couple of junior g-men will be standing there with all of your CDs, your computer equipment, and your pet cat -- all of which, they'll remind you, is proof that not only have you broken the law but you've broken it so horribly that the scope of your crime perhaps surpasses that of the rapists and murderers currently incarcerated across the world.
If you have any balls, you'll tell them to fuck the fuck off and drop your cat -- or else.
They agree. Sure, they say and drop the cat -- but not your computer equipment. All you need to do, fuckface, is sign this form.
And they'll give you a form to sign authorizing them -- Jeff the junior g-man and his frat-boy buddy, Tyler -- to charge your credit card 10,000 dollars.
Then you'll be left with a bunch of yanked power cords, a broken down swivel chair that you've used to compute on for six years, and a frazzled pet cat.
I'm not sure I fully understand P2P after reading Katz's essay. Wasn't the internet -- as it was originally designed in the first place -- designed as a "peer-to-peer" system? A system with no central authority, to allow nodes on the fringe to disconnect and reconnect, willy-nilly, etc?
So if everyone believe P2P to be the current trend, why not just deploy the internet over the internet? The current internet would become the 'metaspace' enveloping the new P2P internet (space).
So instead of starting with the big bang and expanding outward, we start with the metaspace and then deploy the P2P network inward within the fringes of the metaspace.
Or, to put it another way, imagine the metaspace is a big turkey. You get one of those cajun basting tools, fill it up with cajun goo (the "goo" would be analogous to mp3s, porn, warez) and then squeeze it -- using your basting tool -- into the turkey, thereby tenderizing it and making it quite tasty (this is analogous to all the happy users able to access the goo).
The turkey -- because it is already existing -- is the "metaspace" into which the goo is injected. The goo (porn, warez, mp3) can freely comingle within the barriers of the metaspace -- the turkey itself -- but (if the network is designed properly and the turkey has no holes) can never leak past the fringes.
I have to work on the analogy a bit, but I think you get the idea. The internet over the internet.
Thank you,
one of Shakespeares Countrywomen.
Does the Queen's English have apostrophes?
Isn't the word 'Microsoft' singular?
..." or "Microsoft are .."
..." and "Microsoft is ..."
So it's not "Microsoft have
It's "Microsoft has
Yes, Microsoft is made up of multitudes, but the word itself -- the brand -- is singular.
But, yes, I could be wrong. I remember growing up in a small town and hearing people say, "I gotta go shopping at Krogers." (The store was called Kroger -- singular.) Or: "I work for Butlers." (The place was called Butler -- singular.)
It's an odd thing -- pluralizing singulars. But what the fuck. Language is messed up. I guess I gotta go back and read Wittgensteins.
Due to security reasons we do not allow nor do we have a feature to delete Passport accounts. Rest assured that if you do not access your account within 12 months our system will automatically delete your account
LOL. I hadn't thought of this excuse.
Look, due to security reasons I must backwards engineer your code. I can't explain it, but it's a part of my private genetic makeup. I'll be glad to supply you with my public genetic key, but, as you know, the private key must stay with me.
I must backwards engineer CSS.
I must hack BlueMatter.
I must attempt to thwart the latest SDMI watermarking scheme.
Rest assured (and this means you, Hilary, and you too, Jack Valenti -- even though, yeah, you're getting up there in years) that if I do not release my version of your encryption schemes, they will be deleted from my hard and from my memory banks. But, as you know, for security reasons, there's no way I can delete them manually. Nor is there any way that you -- Hilary or Jack or you spooks at the NSA -- can compel me to delete them sooner.
I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is. It's for security. You understand. I know you do.
"All your gene makeup are belong to us."
Why couldn't something similar be used to backwards engineer code that (according to the law, at least) is illegal?
(Or is it just the act of backwards engineering that's illegal?)
Anyway, why couldn't someone write code that won't compile -- and is therefore not illegal -- but that would be easy to "fix?" (Introduce specific syntax errors at specific points that would prohibit compilation.)
Is the compilation therefore the thing that is illegal? Does the act of compilation work in concert with the code to create an illegal entity?
What's ironic about all this is that the courts are only going after the "text" -- the actual strings of letters and numbers in filenames and code -- and not (apparently) after that which the text represents (the actual "intellectual content").
The Napster filters seem to be proof of that. What the RIAA is concerned about is artist/filename combinations. Are these the things that are copyrighted? (Yes, I know, there's no way to detect the actual content -- but I would think that the content itself -- not just the strings and letters -- would be the proof of the violation. Just because I decide title all the letters to my sweetie "Enter Sandman - Metallica.mp3" does that make me liable to the RIAA?)
Look, I know this is Slashdot and not f--kedcompany.com, but I think this proves my infamous August, 1992 hypothesis.
Let me recap: I was a new graduate student at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. I was sitting in a coffee shop -- Amer's Cafe on State Street for you fellow Ann Arbor-ites -- and had just ordered an 'Amer's Cap' and settled down to a nice, grungy table with a copy of Wheelock's Latin (for the requisite foreign language requirement), a copy of Hannah Arendt's 'Eichmann in Jerusalem', and a copy of Raymond Carver's collected stories (I was in the MFA program there and dutifully reading through all the Carver, Richard Ford, Tobias Wolf, Bobbie Ann Mason, Joy Williams I could find) and suddenly got a pain in my stomach.
It was an odd pain. And -- sorta like the Woody Allen character in one of his 1980's flicks (Hannah? Misdemeanors?) -- was convinced (beyond a shadow of a doubt) that the pain was, in fact, a tumor and that the death-watch clock had started.
I tried to drink my Amer's cappucino (sp?) without much success. I kept wondering about this weird pain in my gut. I gave up on Wheelock, tried Carver, and decided the pain -- whatever it was -- was driving me batty. It wasn't a bad pain, just a little one. The sort of mild pain that always -- I was certain -- into the sort of pain that caused doctors to say, "Look, it's nothing. Don't worry. Just relax. Come back in six weeks if it's still there." Of course after six weeks you'd be dead.
So I left Amer's, walked down State street, poked my head into Borders, bought a New York Times, and then headed straight for the doctor.
The doctor was an old fat guy who immediately slapped on a rubber glove and told me to pull down my pants and roll on my side.
After he'd done what had to be done he said, "Look, don't worry. You need to relax. Come back in six weeks if the pain is still there."
I walked to the grad library, found an empty desk on the fourth floor, and started to read the Times. I was in a bad mood -- the rubber glove didn't help much -- and I couldn't concentrate. I flipped to the NYTimes business section -- a section I never read -- and there it was in black and white: companies were registering domain names for $70 bucks (it might have been more, I don't remember) and that some of the names were wacky: they were misspellings of common words but the registrants were sure that one day these domain names -- and the web in general -- would be big. Really big. They were like the speculators in the Wild West.
I had a flash that maybe I should register Business.com (no kidding). But then I remembered I was a graduate student and seventy bucks was my walking around money for the *entire month*. So I let that idea slide. (That was my mistake.)
But then I had a second flash -- sitting there in the Harlan Hatcher library and staring out at the campus from my tiny window -- and I said to myself: you know, I bet every business is gonna try to put 'e' before their name. We'll have eLiquor.com. eBeer.com. eCoffee.com. (Since everyone was talking about e-commerce and the promises it heralded.)
And then I had my third -- and last -- flash -- the flash that would become my 1992 hypothesis: that any business with the 'e' in the title will surely be fucked. Maybe not in 1992. Maybe not in 1996. But one day, all these fucking eBusinesses are gonna be fucked. Fucked, fucked, fucked.
eThis, Chief.
And here, today, sitting at my desk, I remembered all this. Remembered my three flashes that morning on the fourth floor of the Harlan Hatcher Graduate library on the campus of the University of Michigan. Remembered my theory about the 'e' before the name. Remembered that it took me six weeks to get rid of that fucking pain in my gut -- three doctors, lots of aspirin and cranberry juice -- until one doctor -- the only one who didn't slap on a rubber glove and turn me on my side -- said, idly, "Have you tried taking some Pepcid?"