The desktop metaphor isn't dead. Anyone who tells you this should be taken out back and shot, to put it bluntly. What IS dead, however, are non-ergonomic, clumsy, single-workspace, non-intuitive desktops that disallow fast expression of a user's wishes. Like Windows. Like the OSX. Like Gnome. Like KDE.
This article would have been better suited to bashing "unnatural storage heirarchies" that the typical Joe User puts up with on a daily basis, instead of trying to drive another nail into the Desktop coffin. The reality of it is, it never began this way. Heirarchical storage management never hit the mainstream until the early 90's, despite having been around for at least 20 years by that point (re: Doug Englebart, his NLS "here's a mouse" demo in SF '68..it discusses other ideas besides using a mouse, like heirarchical storage)
Most systems prior to Windows, including Desqview, GEOS, and even the lowly Atari ST's GEM desktop were non-heirarchical. They were also far easier to use for people who didn't want to have a degree in computer science in order to use their computers effectively. It was only in the mid 80's that "heirarchical storage"-based desktops began to appear on mainstream computers ala AmigaDOS, MacOS, etc.
Anyway, enough history. I propose a solution. There needs to be a new GUI project started which is willing to accept, employ, and demonstrate new, unorthodox ideas. Lets just see what works. Lets try new ideas and see if people like them. If it floats, it stays. If it sinks it sucks--Simple as that. You cant call the desktop metaphor dead until you *try* to you've exhausted every thread of discovery, and tried everything there is to try, and thats clearly not whats happening these days. Gnome and KDE, are in their own niches now, neither project is willing to change horses in midstream and overhaul the appearance and function of their respective systems. There needs to be a third entity. I tried, back in '97 with InSight. Some of the ideas we developed during numerous late night brainstorming sessions were good enough to get published, and utimately earn a citation from ACM. Its not that hard, guys. You just have to recognize what you use because you're stuck with it, and what you use because it makes sense. Document-centric desktops, for example. Do you really need a document-centric desktop? Wouldn't it be more condusive to have a xanalogically oriented desktop? Why is the web 1-dimensional? Wouldn't it be better if HTML was a parallel data structure you could use to "drill down" to the original source of the information you're reading instead of wandering down a one-way street? Why do you use scrollbars? Do you use them because they're the only thing you know about? Do you recognize how clumsy they are, how counter-intuitive they are to use, and how much real-estate they waste? Can you think of how to implement scrolling in a different, better way?
Well, I have. Infact, i'm working with a guy named Johnathan Walther (and have been for the past month and a half) on designing a demo for such a device. Thats right, we have something we feel will finally deliver a death blow to scrollbars. We already have a working model, which is undergoing the final stages of fine-tuning prior to release. We'll be co-authoring a whitepaper for publication on how to build it, and how to implement it. The code will be meticulously documented, and we're going to throw it at anyone willing to see it. Hopefully,/. will run the story, and you'll still be interested enough to see what we've been building damn near every day for the past 8 weeks.
So i'm sitting at the breakfast table yesterday morning when my delicious wife places a plate of eggs and bacon infront of me, with a side of "There you go, honey."
I was shocked. What could this woman be thinking?! Is this some sort of trick? Is she playing with my mind? Is she angry at me about something? My mind ran in endless circles as I wondered why my delicious wife did not serve my traditional meal--Pancakes.
"Hun?" I asked her..
"Yes dear?"
"QUAL ES TU DIRECCION DE EL CASA DE PANQUEQIS INTERNACIONAL??????????"
I screamed at her.
"Theres one down on Grant and Alvernon. Why?" she replied.
"Oh, nuthin..Just wondering. Sleep well last night?" I replied.
"Not really", she yawned, "You were snoring all night again."
"I see. And this is why you have chosen to disobey me, serving me strips of pork flesh and a chicken ovum when you know I desire nothing but pancakes." I asked.
"You got it." she grinned, "Honey, I just wish you would give up acting like a ninja, and the whole pancake thing. I love you just the way...."
"Silence, woman! I AM A NINJA, AND I DEMAND THAT YOU RESPECT ME IN MY DOJO!! So respect me in my dojo!!!!!! I will also have pancakes! You are a woman, and a woman must respect a man!!! I am also a ninja!!!!! You must obey me, and..." I yelled, just before I was knocked unconscious by her cast-iron skillet.
Yes, i'm the original Pancake-Eatin' Ninja from last February. But of our kind there are many, and we gladly embrace the cold hand of death should anything try to come between us and our pancakes. For years, I studied my art in my dojo, and longed for the day that I would be united with shugyiyo-karamitsu, or, as you know her, "Aunt Jemimah". Can you help me in my quest?
Many times have I sat alone in my dojo, quietly meditating to images of pancakes and Futurama. Yes, declicious fluffy warm pancakes that I yurn to press to my buttocks and perform the forbidden dance. At one point in my journey, I visited the land of the Spaniards, and learned their ways. Longing to visit an IHOP during my journey, I confronted a young Spanish boy and interrogated him, his throat at the end of my katana blade.
"YOU HAVE OH-FENDED MAH FAH-MAH-LEE, AND YOU HAVE OH-FENDED A SHAO-LIN TEMPOOOOO." I yelled, drawing my sword.
"Que?" the boy replied..
"Cual es tu' direccion de Casa de Los Panqequis Internacional????" I begged him.
"Senor, Senor! No tengo panqequis otro Vermont Maple syrupa!!!" he replied.
"Silencio, changito gordo!!! Leer mis pantalones oro!!!!" I screamed, pointing to my golden pants filled with hot grits.
The boy ran. I also fled, to the nearest rooftop. Soon the boy's father entered the road where I had confronted his disobedient son..My thoughts turned to delicious pancakes as the boy's father began to forcefully spank him for telling vicious lies, and placing the reputation of his village's pancake-making abilities into question. He had also offended my family, and a Shao-Lin temple. Such punishment would be worthy of such an offense.
Three days and four nights travel from my father's dojo, I found an IHOP, and I was pleased to discover that they served pancakes. I told the staff at IHOP, "Yes, I am a Ninja. But I also enjoy pancakes. Please, do not hate me for who I am."
I enjoyed the Vermont Maple syrup.
Perhaps KaZaa should seek the help of a ninja. Please moderate this up, and you will recieve pancakes.
Most honorable pancake-eating ninja say, "This PDA looks gayer than a perfume-scented postcard of San Francisco sent from Elton John talking about an Andrew Lloyd Weber musical about Liberace's trip to Paris to see The Village People open for Erasure and Depeche Mode."
When I was a young boy, I awoke every morning to the delicious smell of pancakes. My mother, and father's dojo contained within it a hot griddle perfect for making pancakes, waffles, and a multitude of other pancake-like breakfast pastries. I remember them well -- The pleasant, care-free days of my childhood in the dojo were often spent peering into the kitchen with eager anticipation as my mother prepared pancakes my family.
As I grew older, and began my journey to spiritual enlightenment, the memories of my pancake-eating youth filled my heart and dreams with warm, fluffy goodness....Ahhh, yes..the sweet, sweet memories... The day I ate 10 pancakes... The day I placed a warm pancake between my fleshy loins and performed the forbidden dance... The day pressed a pancake to my buttocks and encouraged my dog to come eat.. Indeed, much of my childhood was spent in pure innocence -- An innocence only pancakes can provide. It was heaven. A heaven, filled with pancakes, where I sat at the throne of God, with my hand-maidens Aunt Jemimah and Mrs. Butterworth seated beside me. An indestructible triumvirate made of flour, eggs, sugar, milk, water, and love.
By the age of 15, the path of my life became unclear and confusing. Torn between my duty my village and my love for pancakes, I foolishly left home in search of karaguchi ah-nowakadesu..The ultimate pancake. My journey took me to the many islands of my homeland, many days away from my dojo. My hunger for pancakes became my teacher, and foolishly I let it control the path that I walked upon. My feet, sore from travel, ached as my heart and stomach did, until I came to a realization. My duty was clear. I needed to take a stand and accept my love for the art of the ninja AND my love for pancakes. It was not wrong for me to love both. I love one as a dear friend, and one as a lover. Yes--My mission was clear--I must become a ninja, a secret assassin hired by the imperial family BUT I MUST ALSO ENJOY THE OCCASIONAL PANCAKE.
My adoration for breakfast cakes has placed me within an awkward position. Many ninja refuse to recognize me as their brother. I defend my father's land, but I am looked upon as weak and undisciplined. I tell them, "But, brothers! Listen to my plea! The pancakes do not weaken me, nor do they make me disobey the rule of my sword. They fill me with love." But alas, they do not understand...For the mind of a ninja is complex.
My only earthly desire is to be accepted for who I am. Yes, I am a NINJA--But I also enjoy pancakes. Will you accept me? If you were approached by a ninja who requested a pancake, would you submit to his will?
Slashdot Mirror
The desktop metaphor isn't dead. Anyone who tells you this should be taken out back and shot, to put it bluntly. What IS dead, however, are non-ergonomic, clumsy, single-workspace, non-intuitive desktops that disallow fast expression of a user's wishes. Like Windows. Like the OSX. Like Gnome. Like KDE.
This article would have been better suited to bashing "unnatural storage heirarchies" that the typical Joe User puts up with on a daily basis, instead of trying to drive another nail into the Desktop coffin. The reality of it is, it never began this way. Heirarchical storage management never hit the mainstream until the early 90's, despite having been around for at least 20 years by that point (re: Doug Englebart, his NLS "here's a mouse" demo in SF '68..it discusses other ideas besides using a mouse, like heirarchical storage)
Most systems prior to Windows, including Desqview, GEOS, and even the lowly Atari ST's GEM desktop were non-heirarchical. They were also far easier to use for people who didn't want to have a degree in computer science in order to use their computers effectively. It was only in the mid 80's that "heirarchical storage"-based desktops began to appear on mainstream computers ala AmigaDOS, MacOS, etc.
Anyway, enough history. I propose a solution. There needs to be a new GUI project started which is willing to accept, employ, and demonstrate new, unorthodox ideas. Lets just see what works. Lets try new ideas and see if people like them. If it floats, it stays. If it sinks it sucks--Simple as that. You cant call the desktop metaphor dead until you *try* to you've exhausted every thread of discovery, and tried everything there is to try, and thats clearly not whats happening these days. Gnome and KDE, are in their own niches now, neither project is willing to change horses in midstream and overhaul the appearance and function of their respective systems. There needs to be a third entity. I tried, back in '97 with InSight. Some of the ideas we developed during numerous late night brainstorming sessions were good enough to get published, and utimately earn a citation from ACM. Its not that hard, guys. You just have to recognize what you use because you're stuck with it, and what you use because it makes sense. Document-centric desktops, for example. Do you really need a document-centric desktop? Wouldn't it be more condusive to have a xanalogically oriented desktop? Why is the web 1-dimensional? Wouldn't it be better if HTML was a parallel data structure you could use to "drill down" to the original source of the information you're reading instead of wandering down a one-way street? Why do you use scrollbars? Do you use them because they're the only thing you know about? Do you recognize how clumsy they are, how counter-intuitive they are to use, and how much real-estate they waste? Can you think of how to implement scrolling in a different, better way?
Well, I have. Infact, i'm working with a guy named Johnathan Walther (and have been for the past month and a half) on designing a demo for such a device. Thats right, we have something we feel will finally deliver a death blow to scrollbars. We already have a working model, which is undergoing the final stages of fine-tuning prior to release. We'll be co-authoring a whitepaper for publication on how to build it, and how to implement it. The code will be meticulously documented, and we're going to throw it at anyone willing to see it. Hopefully,
So, what are you doing to make things better?
Cheers,
So i'm sitting at the breakfast table yesterday morning when my delicious wife places a plate of eggs and bacon infront of me, with a side of "There you go, honey."
I was shocked. What could this woman be thinking?! Is this some sort of trick? Is she playing with my mind? Is she angry at me about something? My mind ran in endless circles as I wondered why my delicious wife did not serve my traditional meal--Pancakes.
"Hun?" I asked her..
"Yes dear?"
"QUAL ES TU DIRECCION DE EL CASA DE PANQUEQIS INTERNACIONAL??????????"
I screamed at her.
"Theres one down on Grant and Alvernon. Why?" she replied.
"Oh, nuthin..Just wondering. Sleep well last night?" I replied.
"Not really", she yawned, "You were snoring all night again."
"I see. And this is why you have chosen to disobey me, serving me strips of pork flesh and a chicken ovum when you know I desire nothing but pancakes." I asked.
"You got it." she grinned, "Honey, I just wish you would give up acting like a ninja, and the whole pancake thing. I love you just the way...."
"Silence, woman! I AM A NINJA, AND I DEMAND THAT YOU RESPECT ME IN MY DOJO!! So respect me in my dojo!!!!!! I will also have pancakes! You are a woman, and a woman must respect a man!!! I am also a ninja!!!!! You must obey me, and..." I yelled, just before I was knocked unconscious by her cast-iron skillet.
Yes, i'm the original Pancake-Eatin' Ninja from last February. But of our kind there are many, and we gladly embrace the cold hand of death should anything try to come between us and our pancakes. For years, I studied my art in my dojo, and longed for the day that I would be united with shugyiyo-karamitsu, or, as you know her, "Aunt Jemimah". Can you help me in my quest?
Got Pancakes?
Many times have I sat alone in my dojo, quietly meditating to images of pancakes and Futurama. Yes, declicious fluffy warm pancakes that I yurn to press to my buttocks and perform the forbidden dance. At one point in my journey, I visited the land of the Spaniards, and learned their ways. Longing to visit an IHOP during my journey, I confronted a young Spanish boy and interrogated him, his throat at the end of my katana blade.
"YOU HAVE OH-FENDED MAH FAH-MAH-LEE, AND YOU HAVE OH-FENDED A SHAO-LIN TEMPOOOOO." I yelled, drawing my sword.
"Que?" the boy replied..
"Cual es tu' direccion de Casa de Los Panqequis Internacional????" I begged him.
"Senor, Senor! No tengo panqequis otro Vermont Maple syrupa!!!" he replied.
"Silencio, changito gordo!!! Leer mis pantalones oro!!!!" I screamed, pointing to my golden pants filled with hot grits.
The boy ran. I also fled, to the nearest rooftop. Soon the boy's father entered the road where I had confronted his disobedient son..My thoughts turned to delicious pancakes as the boy's father began to forcefully spank him for telling vicious lies, and placing the reputation of his village's pancake-making abilities into question. He had also offended my family, and a Shao-Lin temple. Such punishment would be worthy of such an offense.
I continued on my journey.
Three days and four nights travel from my father's dojo, I found an IHOP, and I was pleased to discover that they served pancakes. I told the staff at IHOP, "Yes, I am a Ninja. But I also enjoy pancakes. Please, do not hate me for who I am."
I enjoyed the Vermont Maple syrup.
Perhaps KaZaa should seek the help of a ninja. Please moderate this up, and you will recieve pancakes.
Yes.
Most honorable pancake-eating ninja say, "This PDA looks gayer than a perfume-scented postcard of San Francisco sent from Elton John talking about an Andrew Lloyd Weber musical about Liberace's trip to Paris to see The Village People open for Erasure and Depeche Mode."
Got Pancakes?
When I was a young boy, I awoke every morning to the delicious smell of pancakes. My mother, and father's dojo contained within it a hot griddle perfect for making pancakes, waffles, and a multitude of other pancake-like breakfast pastries. I remember them well -- The pleasant, care-free days of my childhood in the dojo were often spent peering into the kitchen with eager anticipation as my mother prepared pancakes my family.
As I grew older, and began my journey to spiritual enlightenment, the memories of my pancake-eating youth filled my heart and dreams with warm, fluffy goodness....Ahhh, yes..the sweet, sweet memories... The day I ate 10 pancakes... The day I placed a warm pancake between my fleshy loins and performed the forbidden dance... The day pressed a pancake to my buttocks and encouraged my dog to come eat.. Indeed, much of my childhood was spent in pure innocence -- An innocence only pancakes can provide. It was heaven. A heaven, filled with pancakes, where I sat at the throne of God, with my hand-maidens Aunt Jemimah and Mrs. Butterworth seated beside me. An indestructible triumvirate made of flour, eggs, sugar, milk, water, and love.
By the age of 15, the path of my life became unclear and confusing. Torn between my duty my village and my love for pancakes, I foolishly left home in search of karaguchi ah-nowakadesu..The ultimate pancake. My journey took me to the many islands of my homeland, many days away from my dojo. My hunger for pancakes became my teacher, and foolishly I let it control the path that I walked upon. My feet, sore from travel, ached as my heart and stomach did, until I came to a realization. My duty was clear. I needed to take a stand and accept my love for the art of the ninja AND my love for pancakes. It was not wrong for me to love both. I love one as a dear friend, and one as a lover. Yes--My mission was clear--I must become a ninja, a secret assassin hired by the imperial family BUT I MUST ALSO ENJOY THE OCCASIONAL PANCAKE.
My adoration for breakfast cakes has placed me within an awkward position. Many ninja refuse to recognize me as their brother. I defend my father's land, but I am looked upon as weak and undisciplined. I tell them, "But, brothers! Listen to my plea! The pancakes do not weaken me, nor do they make me disobey the rule of my sword. They fill me with love." But alas, they do not understand...For the mind of a ninja is complex.
My only earthly desire is to be accepted for who I am. Yes, I am a NINJA--But I also enjoy pancakes. Will you accept me? If you were approached by a ninja who requested a pancake, would you submit to his will?
I AM CHEWBACCA...FUCK MY BELLY!!
- The Pancake-Eatin' Ninja