I am so taking a hammer to mine... when I eventually get around to renewing it.
Outsourced passports netting govt. profits, risking national security
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Friday, October 31, 2008
Hammer time: US citizen security threatened by insecure "secure" passports
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Commies are Pink, Herrings are Red; Republicans stink, you heard what I said
"Patriotism is supporting your country all of the time, and your government when it deserves it." - Samuel Clemens
Last week, Gov. Sarah Palin and Rep. Michele Bachmann accused progressives of not being "real Americans."
This week, conservatives have decided to brand progressives as "Communists," "Socialists," "Marxists" and "Redistributors" for supporting tax policies that help middle-class families.
We’ve had enough.
http://www.iamproamerica.com
We believe that in difficult times, it's been Progressive leadership that has put our country back on track.
We believe that we can rebuild our economy in a way that helps every American - not just the richest.
We believe that health care is a right, not a privilege.
We believe that we can build an education system that truly leaves no child behind.
We believe in the American Dream.
I am Pro-America. I am Progressive.
http://www.iamproamerica.com
Friday, October 24, 2008
EULA-sive signal: there's no such thing as a free wi-fi
Like every other person with a laptop, I'm trying to get some work done while I wait for my plane. (real work, not this blog.) That work requires internet access. Like every other traveler who travels infrequently enough to not warrant a wireless broadband card, I'm lamenting having to pay through the nose for the same wi-fi access I can get free with a cup of coffee, or by merely sitting in the park.
The service is provided by Boingo. My choices are $5 for one hour, or $8 for 24 hours. The later would seem a bargain, if you expect to be waiting a while or, like me, will have a layover in Detroit for an hour and a half (see below). But wait! For $9.95* you can get service for a whole month! (* for 3 months, after which it's $22/month.)
These are called "teaser rates" (yes, like the one on your mortgage) or a form of low-balling. Low-balling is a sales technique where they get you to agree to a low price, so you start to consider the item yours already, then they raise the price, sometimes incrementally, a little at a time. Emotionally you want the item, and you (in your mind) have already made it yours, so a couple bucks more isn't going to dissuade you from your purchase - you're a fish on a hook now, and you're not going to walk away.
This is a typical car dealer tactic - they "cut" the sticker price, for you, 'cus you're nice, and they really want to sell it, and you really want to buy it, right? As you sit down to sign the paperwork, the sales person steps out tohave a cigarette "talk to his boss," who unfortunately tells him he "can't sell it at that price," but "let's see what we can do." Then back out for some coffee to haggle with the boss, on your behalf, and they "come to a compromise" on the price - which is a lot more than you agreed to pay.
Then they start tacking on the "extras," or stuff you thought came with the car because, you know, it's on the one you looked at. ("Oh, no, that one sells for the sticker price. The price you agreed to is for a different car - one without a radio.")
Teasers are not like Leaders, which are sometimes ridiculously low prices, just to get you interested in buying something enough to get you into the store. Because if Leaders are like the price for regular gas (87 octane), then Teasers are Super (89), as compared to Premium (91), or the price of a medium soda at the theater (there is no small, so what's it in the middle of?) compared to the large. The difference in price is nominal, so since you've mentally agreed to the price point, why not get the much better/bigger item? Why buy 16 oz. of crap your body doesn't want or need (for half the price of the ticket), when "for just .35¢ more" you can have 32 oz? You're going to get your money's worth, dammit. (and do the peepee dance all through the third act of the film, because you have a 28 oz. bladder.)
I'm in an airport at most 2 times, every other month - usually much less. (And I usually plan it so I'm waiting less than an hour.) If I wanted unlimited wireless internet access for, say, my phone, it wouldn't cost me $22/month. This is for the desperate, not those with legitimate need.
But as it's only $10/month for the first 3, perhaps I can just sign up, then cancel. Canceling should be easy, right?
From the End User License Agreement:
So, you have to request a cancellation before the subscription ends, but you're not actually allowed to cancel it at that time. This, I suspect, is what ropes people into fraudulently-named "free" credit reports and Girls Gone Wild videos. See, you have to make the request in writing. Their address is prominently displayed - at the bottom of the EULA, which you can see while you're inside any airport they service.
(My plane boarded rather soon after, so all ended up doing was starting to write this post.)
On to the layover in Detroit. After deplaning (and I always hear Hervé Villachaize saying that), I find out my connecting flight is the same friggin' plane I was just on. Though my stuff is safer with me than alone with the cleaning crew, I'm lugging it around the terminal now. One moving walkway away, I notice the Online Cafe, with people with laptops and little terminals at some of the booths. Perfect - I really do need to touch base with the office.
Ordering [second] breakfast, I'm now a paying customer of the Online Cafe. "I can has free wi-fi nau?" "No, not yours." It's $5 for 15 minutes (because who sits and eats longer than that?), but for only a few dollars more you get it for longer than you plan on being there. Fabulous. I'm expensing it, anyway.
(And I really did appreciate the waitress, very discreetly at the top of her lungs, announcing my login and password to the rest of the terminal. I'm the only one authorized to use it, so it's safe.)
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The service is provided by Boingo. My choices are $5 for one hour, or $8 for 24 hours. The later would seem a bargain, if you expect to be waiting a while or, like me, will have a layover in Detroit for an hour and a half (see below). But wait! For $9.95* you can get service for a whole month! (* for 3 months, after which it's $22/month.)
These are called "teaser rates" (yes, like the one on your mortgage) or a form of low-balling. Low-balling is a sales technique where they get you to agree to a low price, so you start to consider the item yours already, then they raise the price, sometimes incrementally, a little at a time. Emotionally you want the item, and you (in your mind) have already made it yours, so a couple bucks more isn't going to dissuade you from your purchase - you're a fish on a hook now, and you're not going to walk away.
This is a typical car dealer tactic - they "cut" the sticker price, for you, 'cus you're nice, and they really want to sell it, and you really want to buy it, right? As you sit down to sign the paperwork, the sales person steps out to
Then they start tacking on the "extras," or stuff you thought came with the car because, you know, it's on the one you looked at. ("Oh, no, that one sells for the sticker price. The price you agreed to is for a different car - one without a radio.")
Teasers are not like Leaders, which are sometimes ridiculously low prices, just to get you interested in buying something enough to get you into the store. Because if Leaders are like the price for regular gas (87 octane), then Teasers are Super (89), as compared to Premium (91), or the price of a medium soda at the theater (there is no small, so what's it in the middle of?) compared to the large. The difference in price is nominal, so since you've mentally agreed to the price point, why not get the much better/bigger item? Why buy 16 oz. of crap your body doesn't want or need (for half the price of the ticket), when "for just .35¢ more" you can have 32 oz? You're going to get your money's worth, dammit. (and do the peepee dance all through the third act of the film, because you have a 28 oz. bladder.)
I'm in an airport at most 2 times, every other month - usually much less. (And I usually plan it so I'm waiting less than an hour.) If I wanted unlimited wireless internet access for, say, my phone, it wouldn't cost me $22/month. This is for the desperate, not those with legitimate need.
But as it's only $10/month for the first 3, perhaps I can just sign up, then cancel. Canceling should be easy, right?
From the End User License Agreement:
Can I cancel my subscription?
1. Once your order is finalised, you cannot cancel it before the end of the subscription period you have requested, unless our service is not in accordance with this Agreement and that entitles you under normal legal rules to terminate your order.
2. You can prevent your subscription automatically renewing for a further period by notifying us before your present subscription ends in accordance with clause 15.1. [emphasis mine]
So, you have to request a cancellation before the subscription ends, but you're not actually allowed to cancel it at that time. This, I suspect, is what ropes people into fraudulently-named "free" credit reports and Girls Gone Wild videos. See, you have to make the request in writing. Their address is prominently displayed - at the bottom of the EULA, which you can see while you're inside any airport they service.
(My plane boarded rather soon after, so all ended up doing was starting to write this post.)
On to the layover in Detroit. After deplaning (and I always hear Hervé Villachaize saying that), I find out my connecting flight is the same friggin' plane I was just on. Though my stuff is safer with me than alone with the cleaning crew, I'm lugging it around the terminal now. One moving walkway away, I notice the Online Cafe, with people with laptops and little terminals at some of the booths. Perfect - I really do need to touch base with the office.
Ordering [second] breakfast, I'm now a paying customer of the Online Cafe. "I can has free wi-fi nau?" "No, not yours." It's $5 for 15 minutes (because who sits and eats longer than that?), but for only a few dollars more you get it for longer than you plan on being there. Fabulous. I'm expensing it, anyway.
(And I really did appreciate the waitress, very discreetly at the top of her lungs, announcing my login and password to the rest of the terminal. I'm the only one authorized to use it, so it's safe.)
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Air Fair 2: Dyspeptic Bugaboo - TSA rules hard to swallow
I'm a fan of BoingBoing.net. They have several ongoing threads regarding the current state of the Security Theater™ under the oppression of which we now live. Among the heart-rending stories of children being forcibly removed from planes and grandmothers being accused of paedophilia for taking pictures of empty playgrounds, are numerous stories about the malfeasance that is the TSA. One of the more recent is the TSA employee who managed to walk out of Newark "Liberty" (ha!) International with a couple hundred thousand dollars of high-end electronics (cameras, laptops, GPS's) from passengers' bags over the course of (at least) several months, with not even the TSA noticing.
So, I'm flying out of Newark this trip. Didn't have any issues this time (unlike others, see below). I even went through with the Swiss Army nail clipper that I had meant to take out of my bag. (it doesn't have a knife, but the nail file is rather pointy. and then there's that miniature screw driver...) After reading all the stories of people having things like nail clippers confiscated, I was surprised to find it there later. Either they're allowing people to trim their nails on planes now, or they just didn't notice. Past experience would suggest the later, but since they did find the two 1 oz. bottles of shampoo and conditioner I saved from the hotel's refuse on the return trip, I have to assume they saw it and let it go.
Do you know what else they're apparently allowing on planes now? Knitting needles.
Knitting fucking needles.
Yeah, I know, you can't really see them in the shot, but trust me, that old lady was pearling two while I was trying to surreptitiously snap a pic with my phone. I was wary of being frog marched off the plane for the "suspicious act" of taking a picture. Because only terrorists use cameras and only little old ladies use 8-inch metal spikes. On planes.
They're apparently also exempt from the "please put all carry-on items under the seat in front of you" rule. You put the loose stuff that's not tied down under the seat so that it doesn't fly across the plane in an accident. The damage you'd take from the "rapid deceleration trauma" of the plane suddenly meeting concrete isn't made any better by metal spikes suddenly meeting the back of your head.
(I probably would have let it go in this case, too, as where she was sitting they would likely only fly through first class.)
Bruce Schneier [Schneier.com] is my hero. I've read many articles and blog posts written by him in the realm of computer security. His expertise is not limited to mere computers but encompasses Security in general. He should be granted sainthood. He contributed to an Atlantic Monthly article recently ["The Things He Carried"] which showed just how easily airport security [theater] can be circumvented. If you think a bunch of near minimum wage, marginally educated, authority abusing, blue-shirted baggage [mis]handlers are keeping you safer, you need to read this article.
And if you think it the height of irresponsibility to show just how easy it is to create a fake boarding pass, walk right around things like no-fly lists, with prohibited items in your pockets, consider this: I used to share your opinion.
I once considered it morally and ethically reprehensible that someone would publish ways of circumventing the things that keep us safer. A number of things changed my mind. One, of course, was Mr. Schneier. Another was the book Little Brother by BoingBoing contributer Cory Doctorow. They caused me to see the instructions on how to defeat most padlocks with a soda can in a new light.
You buy locks to keep your things yours. You now know that a great many people know how to walk right through that lock like it's not there. After you get over the initial fear that nothing is safe anymore, you go out and buy a new, functional lock. And that makes you safer.
My mother lives in a "gated" community. I say that in quotes because the "gate" is operated by people who are not working for the TSA, for what ever reason, and can be walked right around - and frequently is. When you pull up and say, "hi, I'm here to see my mom," they ask, "do you have the number?" being too lazy to look it up. (I'm only assuming laziness - there could be other reasons they might not be willing or able to discern the numbers and their order in a book.)
"Sure," I say, "it's [my wife's cell phone number]." My wife, sitting next to me, answers the ringing phone in her hand when the "guard" calls and says, "OK, let them in."
Did I harm anyone (besides the gate operator's feelings)? Did I point out a flaw in the system? If you live there, do you feel safer knowing this? Do you really think no one of criminal intent has already found - and possibly already exploited - this flaw? Should you chastise me for pointing it out to everyone (put the keyboard down, mom) or should you find a way to fix it?
Not only are the TSA's rules seemingly arbitrary, they're capriciously enforced. (big "DUH!" if you've flown recently.)
So, I'm flying out of Newark this trip. Didn't have any issues this time (unlike others, see below). I even went through with the Swiss Army nail clipper that I had meant to take out of my bag. (it doesn't have a knife, but the nail file is rather pointy. and then there's that miniature screw driver...) After reading all the stories of people having things like nail clippers confiscated, I was surprised to find it there later. Either they're allowing people to trim their nails on planes now, or they just didn't notice. Past experience would suggest the later, but since they did find the two 1 oz. bottles of shampoo and conditioner I saved from the hotel's refuse on the return trip, I have to assume they saw it and let it go.
Do you know what else they're apparently allowing on planes now? Knitting needles.
Knitting fucking needles.
Yeah, I know, you can't really see them in the shot, but trust me, that old lady was pearling two while I was trying to surreptitiously snap a pic with my phone. I was wary of being frog marched off the plane for the "suspicious act" of taking a picture. Because only terrorists use cameras and only little old ladies use 8-inch metal spikes. On planes.
They're apparently also exempt from the "please put all carry-on items under the seat in front of you" rule. You put the loose stuff that's not tied down under the seat so that it doesn't fly across the plane in an accident. The damage you'd take from the "rapid deceleration trauma" of the plane suddenly meeting concrete isn't made any better by metal spikes suddenly meeting the back of your head.
(I probably would have let it go in this case, too, as where she was sitting they would likely only fly through first class.)
Bruce Schneier [Schneier.com] is my hero. I've read many articles and blog posts written by him in the realm of computer security. His expertise is not limited to mere computers but encompasses Security in general. He should be granted sainthood. He contributed to an Atlantic Monthly article recently ["The Things He Carried"] which showed just how easily airport security [theater] can be circumvented. If you think a bunch of near minimum wage, marginally educated, authority abusing, blue-shirted baggage [mis]handlers are keeping you safer, you need to read this article.
And if you think it the height of irresponsibility to show just how easy it is to create a fake boarding pass, walk right around things like no-fly lists, with prohibited items in your pockets, consider this: I used to share your opinion.
I once considered it morally and ethically reprehensible that someone would publish ways of circumventing the things that keep us safer. A number of things changed my mind. One, of course, was Mr. Schneier. Another was the book Little Brother by BoingBoing contributer Cory Doctorow. They caused me to see the instructions on how to defeat most padlocks with a soda can in a new light.
You buy locks to keep your things yours. You now know that a great many people know how to walk right through that lock like it's not there. After you get over the initial fear that nothing is safe anymore, you go out and buy a new, functional lock. And that makes you safer.
My mother lives in a "gated" community. I say that in quotes because the "gate" is operated by people who are not working for the TSA, for what ever reason, and can be walked right around - and frequently is. When you pull up and say, "hi, I'm here to see my mom," they ask, "do you have the number?" being too lazy to look it up. (I'm only assuming laziness - there could be other reasons they might not be willing or able to discern the numbers and their order in a book.)
"Sure," I say, "it's [my wife's cell phone number]." My wife, sitting next to me, answers the ringing phone in her hand when the "guard" calls and says, "OK, let them in."
Did I harm anyone (besides the gate operator's feelings)? Did I point out a flaw in the system? If you live there, do you feel safer knowing this? Do you really think no one of criminal intent has already found - and possibly already exploited - this flaw? Should you chastise me for pointing it out to everyone (put the keyboard down, mom) or should you find a way to fix it?
Not only are the TSA's rules seemingly arbitrary, they're capriciously enforced. (big "DUH!" if you've flown recently.)
- My wife and I are waiting on the security line to board a plane. I take from her hand, by mistake (because I would never purposefully try to create a stir that could get me arrested), her ticket and passport. Handing them to the agent who took enough time from talking his buddy to hold out his hands, he looks them up and down, determines they're valid, and hands them back to me all without looking at my face. Many men have feminine-sounding first names, and it's possible dye one's hair from blond (in the photo) to brown (mine) or vice-versa, but the scruffy, unshaven man holding the boarding pass is decidedly not female.
- I'm flying out of Newark, not long after one guy tries (and fails) to light the shoelace fuse on his shoe bombs. Everyone now has to take of their shoes. On the return trip from a, shall we say, less urban airport, I ask, "do I have to take my [boots that lace all the way up past my ankles] off?" "Nah, g'head." So, is rural America safe from us big city folk, but not the other way around? Wait...
- Coming back again from said not-so-urban-but-then-I'm-an-east-coast-elitist airport, Sheriff J.W. Pepper pulls my bag aside. "Is this your bag, sir?" I'm expecting a world of crap for the rat's nest of cables and wires for all of the electronics I'm carrying. Pulling items from my bag, he takes the time to remind me that all liquids must be carried in a sealable, zippered, clear plastic bag. He then proceeds to take my toiletries from the zippered, clear plastic bag that came with my luggage, and so doesn't say "Ziploc" on it.
When I foolishly attempted to argue with the double-digit IQ that was detaining me, saying, "I flew out of New York with everything like that," he says, "New York is a very busy area; they don't take security as seriously as we do here." Truth be told, no one's crashed a plane into anything near there recently. (And then there's those knitting needles...)
After my dangerous toothpaste was secured in a provided baggie, we all became safer and could fly again. I proceeded down the end of the corridor to put my shoes back on, and my deodorant et al. back into my toiletry bag, in full view of TSA personel. (because real terrorists are not able to get into plastic bags, once they're sealed.)
In case you were wondering, the only thing this policy keeps safe is your shirt, when the change in cabin pressure makes things like shampoo bottles pop open and drip down out of the overhead. But then perhaps you should be threatened with arrest for being inconsiderate and careless.
- On another trip, I headed to the automated check in kiosk, instead of the attended but otherwise vacant ticket counter. Attempting to get my boarding pass, I was asked for the credit card on which it was purchased - a corporate card, which I don't have. Next choice was scanning my passport, which I didn't bring for a domestic flight, then my driver's license, which didn't cooperate. Typing in the confirmation number manually produced no results, so it was off to the ticket counter. They were very friendly (really) helping check in the man with only basic ID, without the card under which the ticket was purchased, who attempted to get a boarding pass with no human interaction and failed. It was when I was going through the security check that I noticed the "OOO" on my boarding pass (when the person checking my ID highlighted it).
Singled out for "additional screening," I waited for someone to go through my bag and wipe my laptop with one of those papers that turns blue or something when you're pregnant or there's explosives inside. Unfortunately it was lunch time, so no one was available, except the supervisor (I think) who x-rayed my bag. He said, since he's the one who x-rayed it, he's not supposed to be the one to check manually. This makes perfect sense. He was very apologetic, admitting how silly it was that he had to be the one to look through everything, since he just looked through it on a screen.
Full of wit: if you can't think straight, then the terrorists have won
Richard Pryor said:
"Snakes make you run into trees. White people see a snake and go, 'snake!' (turns) POW! (face into outstretched hand)"
Please try to remember this when (that's right when) Bin Laden tries to get you to vote for McCain.
via BoingBoing
With Barack Obama so far ahead in the polls some people are getting worried that this election cycle’s October surprise will be a terrorist attack. keep your brain running at all times. When you switch it off bad things happen.
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Monday, October 20, 2008
Air Fair: Adventures in air travel, cont.
Ah, yes, another blog post griping about air travel. It's a lot like the weather, in that everyone complains about it, but most of us feel powerless to do anything other than check the internet frequently for updates to its status.
Where to begin? The beginning, of course, and that would be the Booking phase.
So I'm going through my company's corporate travel site, as I'm required to, to make my near monthly, last-minute flight reservation to Wisconsin (or as I like to call it, Chez Cheese). As is my custom, I skip right past the Deltas and the AirTrans (are they still in business?) and head straight for the Continentals. I like Continental - never had a problem, and check-in is a breeze as I can do it from my cell phone the day before, with my boarding pass sent straight to the phone.
$1300+change. Ouch. But, it's last-minute, right?
Our corporate travel policy makes the system spit back some alternate flights with lower fares. Fair enough, let's save money if we can. One flight on Northwest, leaving at the same time, is $400+change. Like the Continental, there's a layover in Detroit for an hour and a half, at the same time, landing in Milwaukee at the same time. That's when I notice the "operated by Northwest" on the Continental flight. Yes, they are one and the same plane - at three times the price. They're both Coach, the only difference is the Class code (more on that later).
Now, I'm all for saving the company money, and I don't need someone in the travel office asking me why I paid three times as much for the same plane, but dammit, Continental is where all my frequent flier miles are.
This is where I start to do the math. It's the same flight out, but different flights back. If I use the NWA return on the Cont. (say that out loud) departure, the price goes up, because technically it's mixed carriers, even though it's the same goddamned plane. So I try different options to attempt to figure out the NWA price for the same seat Cont. is charging me. I come to the conclusion that it's capricious and arbitrary.
So I call, and ask the Cont. Customer Service rep if they can do better on the price, seeing as it's the same plane and all. No. You see, even though it's the same coach seats on the same plane, same flight attendants, same room for baggage, there's those different classes - those determine the fare. With everything else being equal, what's the difference? The Elite Status frequent flier miles granted. (turns out NWA is a Cont. partner, and they share miles.)
Turns out the Cont. airfare is three times more because it comes with an extra 50% of frequent flier miles towards achieving Elite Status. (remember that "Status" thing for later.) For the algebraically-challenged, that's $400 for 500 miles or $1300 for 750 - one and a half times the miles, 3 times the price. As I type this, it occurs to me that I could have booked two flights on NWA (still less) and gotten two times the miles (more) - plus a lot more leg room. This is something I'll be sure to bring up to a booking agent.
Not seeing a way to make more miles for me sound like a bargain for the company, I go back and book a flight on NWA, 6 AM to Milwaukee, stopping in Detroit, which is now, the next day, curiously only $260.
Shortly, my wife calls. "Did you mean to fly out of LaGuardia?" Shit. Back to the site, cancel the flight, start the whole thing over again. Only now when I select the Cont. flight (now $1600, thank you), it says, "OK, paid, thanks." So much for that list of cheaper alternates I was expecting (I swear).
Remember all those reasons I said I liked Cont.? Gone. Not only can't I pick my seat, I can't check in for the "partner" flight online. So why exactly am I booking the flight through you, Cont.? The privilege of paying more money per mile?
So it looks like I'm a NWA flier now. I singed up for their program when I went to their site to get my boarding pass.
Remember all those "extra" Elite Status miles I'm getting for the Cont. price? Miles that, eventually, when you accumulate enough, you can redeem for things like First Class upgrades? NWA offers to upgrade me to First for $115. Yeah - one hundred fifteen dollars. In the end, instead of paying $500 for a First Class $400 flight, I pay $1600 for a $400 coach flight with an extra 250 miles that, someday, maybe, with a whole lot more miles, I may try to use to get an upgrade.
Epilogue: while I'm waiting in line to board the plane - general boarding, all rows, all seats - some guy comes up and says he has a First Class ticket and, because he missed the earlier announcement, he should get in front of me. I'd like to think that, had I not been up since 4 AM, I would have thought of something clever to say. I stepped past him.
Where to begin? The beginning, of course, and that would be the Booking phase.
So I'm going through my company's corporate travel site, as I'm required to, to make my near monthly, last-minute flight reservation to Wisconsin (or as I like to call it, Chez Cheese). As is my custom, I skip right past the Deltas and the AirTrans (are they still in business?) and head straight for the Continentals. I like Continental - never had a problem, and check-in is a breeze as I can do it from my cell phone the day before, with my boarding pass sent straight to the phone.
$1300+change. Ouch. But, it's last-minute, right?
Our corporate travel policy makes the system spit back some alternate flights with lower fares. Fair enough, let's save money if we can. One flight on Northwest, leaving at the same time, is $400+change. Like the Continental, there's a layover in Detroit for an hour and a half, at the same time, landing in Milwaukee at the same time. That's when I notice the "operated by Northwest" on the Continental flight. Yes, they are one and the same plane - at three times the price. They're both Coach, the only difference is the Class code (more on that later).
Now, I'm all for saving the company money, and I don't need someone in the travel office asking me why I paid three times as much for the same plane, but dammit, Continental is where all my frequent flier miles are.
This is where I start to do the math. It's the same flight out, but different flights back. If I use the NWA return on the Cont. (say that out loud) departure, the price goes up, because technically it's mixed carriers, even though it's the same goddamned plane. So I try different options to attempt to figure out the NWA price for the same seat Cont. is charging me. I come to the conclusion that it's capricious and arbitrary.
So I call, and ask the Cont. Customer Service rep if they can do better on the price, seeing as it's the same plane and all. No. You see, even though it's the same coach seats on the same plane, same flight attendants, same room for baggage, there's those different classes - those determine the fare. With everything else being equal, what's the difference? The Elite Status frequent flier miles granted. (turns out NWA is a Cont. partner, and they share miles.)
Turns out the Cont. airfare is three times more because it comes with an extra 50% of frequent flier miles towards achieving Elite Status. (remember that "Status" thing for later.) For the algebraically-challenged, that's $400 for 500 miles or $1300 for 750 - one and a half times the miles, 3 times the price. As I type this, it occurs to me that I could have booked two flights on NWA (still less) and gotten two times the miles (more) - plus a lot more leg room. This is something I'll be sure to bring up to a booking agent.
Not seeing a way to make more miles for me sound like a bargain for the company, I go back and book a flight on NWA, 6 AM to Milwaukee, stopping in Detroit, which is now, the next day, curiously only $260.
Shortly, my wife calls. "Did you mean to fly out of LaGuardia?" Shit. Back to the site, cancel the flight, start the whole thing over again. Only now when I select the Cont. flight (now $1600, thank you), it says, "OK, paid, thanks." So much for that list of cheaper alternates I was expecting (I swear).
Remember all those reasons I said I liked Cont.? Gone. Not only can't I pick my seat, I can't check in for the "partner" flight online. So why exactly am I booking the flight through you, Cont.? The privilege of paying more money per mile?
So it looks like I'm a NWA flier now. I singed up for their program when I went to their site to get my boarding pass.
Remember all those "extra" Elite Status miles I'm getting for the Cont. price? Miles that, eventually, when you accumulate enough, you can redeem for things like First Class upgrades? NWA offers to upgrade me to First for $115. Yeah - one hundred fifteen dollars. In the end, instead of paying $500 for a First Class $400 flight, I pay $1600 for a $400 coach flight with an extra 250 miles that, someday, maybe, with a whole lot more miles, I may try to use to get an upgrade.
Epilogue: while I'm waiting in line to board the plane - general boarding, all rows, all seats - some guy comes up and says he has a First Class ticket and, because he missed the earlier announcement, he should get in front of me. I'd like to think that, had I not been up since 4 AM, I would have thought of something clever to say. I stepped past him.
DRM you, DRM you to hell
An open letter to NBC.
(you're free to copy/paste this letter, or a version of it, and send it to NBC Direct, their online video distribution channel, at nbcdirect@nbcuni.com.)
(you're free to copy/paste this letter, or a version of it, and send it to NBC Direct, their online video distribution channel, at nbcdirect@nbcuni.com.)
I would love to watch high-definition archives of Heroes online, as I can't always get in front of a TV at the scheduled time. I went to your site to watch them, and I am now very offended.
First, I'm offended that you would choose to purposefully exclude me as a patron, or extort additional money from me. You pay a lot of money to get people interested in your shows, then more money to draw them to your website, only to then limit who gets to view the content.
I use a Macintosh, at home, at work and on the road. You have chosen to use a system that is not open to everyone, but is instead limited to a subset of people who patronize Microsoft as your "free" distribution channel. So unless I pay Apple $3 per episode to download them from the iTunes store, I have to pay Microsoft for their operating system.
I am also offended that you choose to treat me like a criminal, for no other reason than I want to enjoy your product. You won't let me view your content because you're worried I might give it to someone - someone who could also get it from your site.
I chose to visit your site to view your content. The first choice is always the easiest and most accessible. I expected that the only encumberment to doing so would be viewing advertising, which I accept. The irony is that, out of concern that people might find an illegitimate distribution channel which would not generate advertising revenue for you, you limit who can access your product legitimately, which reduces your potential ad revenue.
After all the money you spend on advertising and marketing just to get people to watch any particular program, you say, "here, but don't show anyone else." Why, because they might become fans, too, and more people would come to your site to get more content? You want as many paying customers to see the show as possible (even if we are "paying" by viewing ads), then you limit who can come in, just to make sure everyone who's in has paid.
Perhaps the ultimate irony is the people who can do the most damage, the bootleggers and pirates who would appropriate your content and redistribute it for their gain, are already doing so. They don't get the content through legitimate means (hello? VCR?), so they aren't encumbered by the DRM embedded into legitimately obtained content. The only people inconvenienced are the ones trying to do things the right way.
So until you come up with an open DRM system that's accessible to everyone, regardless of which software they use, one that doesn't consider every patron a potential thief (that is, none), I'm going to steal it. I still plan on viewing your content. I'll look at products other people want to sell me as the price of admission. But I don't appreciate being told I can't see something because I might steal it. That means I'm going to patronize the very people you're trying to stop (when instead you're stopping me). They actually want to make the content accessible.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Silly sod - growing roots temporarily
If you've ever watched Project Runway, you've no doubt heard of Bryant Park. It's normally a quiet little refuge from the push and shove that is New York City, directly behind the Public Library (yes, the one with the lions), about a block from Times Square. In addition to a carousel, a fountain, and dozens of people playing chess, it has a large, wide open lawn. It's a wonderful place to get away from the office and eat lunch. It's also, apparently, a nice place to host fancy, posh events like Fashion Week.
They don't hold it on grass, of course. It is in a tent, but heavens forbid some fashionista got her Manolos muddy, so they set up platforms to put the tent on, covering the entire lawn. This, naturally, kills the lawn.
It's also an ideal spot for a skating rink. Citi, who apparently has enough money left over from buying my account from Wachovia, sponsors the construction of "The Pond." As most of us understand "pond" to be a body of water with, typically, more than 4 inches of water in it, and since there are no permanent structures, man-made or otherwise, for containing water in Bryant Park (besides the fountain), they build a hockey rink on top of the lawn and have the hubris to call it a "pond." This, and all of the support platforms around it, also do not do nice things to the lawn.
Still, it's nice to have a little, virtual winter wonderland, with all the little push cart shops that get set up lining every square foot of the mall. They make it look very pretty for the Christmas season - which, we all know, starts during Fashion Week.
Well, not concurrently, of course. After all the Ugly Betties in their LBD's (that's little black dress, if you're a guy) and the pencil thin queens who think merely being gay conveys an innate fashion sense (I've lived with gay men - it doesn't) have packed up their swag bags and gone home, they take down the [climate controlled] tent, dismantle the platforms, then restore the park to its former [non-barricaded, non-power-cable-entwined] glory.
For about a month.
And we come to the purpose of this post (you knew there had to be one): Between Fashion Week, which runs until Sept. 12, and the opening of the "Pond" on Oct. 24, they take a few days to get a whole team of landscapers out and re-sod the entire freakin' lawn, almost a city block in size - before tearing it all up again. Oh, they even post little signs around the [now roped-off] perimeter that say, "please keep off the grass while the lawn establishes a new root system" ...for at least two weeks, after which we're destroying it for a skating rink and café.
It's a public park, but it's privately managed by a company that's privately funded, so I can't really complain whole-heartedly about the wastefulness. Still, I think there's better things that can be done with that kind of money.
They don't hold it on grass, of course. It is in a tent, but heavens forbid some fashionista got her Manolos muddy, so they set up platforms to put the tent on, covering the entire lawn. This, naturally, kills the lawn.
It's also an ideal spot for a skating rink. Citi, who apparently has enough money left over from buying my account from Wachovia, sponsors the construction of "The Pond." As most of us understand "pond" to be a body of water with, typically, more than 4 inches of water in it, and since there are no permanent structures, man-made or otherwise, for containing water in Bryant Park (besides the fountain), they build a hockey rink on top of the lawn and have the hubris to call it a "pond." This, and all of the support platforms around it, also do not do nice things to the lawn.
Still, it's nice to have a little, virtual winter wonderland, with all the little push cart shops that get set up lining every square foot of the mall. They make it look very pretty for the Christmas season - which, we all know, starts during Fashion Week.
Well, not concurrently, of course. After all the Ugly Betties in their LBD's (that's little black dress, if you're a guy) and the pencil thin queens who think merely being gay conveys an innate fashion sense (I've lived with gay men - it doesn't) have packed up their swag bags and gone home, they take down the [climate controlled] tent, dismantle the platforms, then restore the park to its former [non-barricaded, non-power-cable-entwined] glory.
For about a month.
And we come to the purpose of this post (you knew there had to be one): Between Fashion Week, which runs until Sept. 12, and the opening of the "Pond" on Oct. 24, they take a few days to get a whole team of landscapers out and re-sod the entire freakin' lawn, almost a city block in size - before tearing it all up again. Oh, they even post little signs around the [now roped-off] perimeter that say, "please keep off the grass while the lawn establishes a new root system" ...for at least two weeks, after which we're destroying it for a skating rink and café.
It's a public park, but it's privately managed by a company that's privately funded, so I can't really complain whole-heartedly about the wastefulness. Still, I think there's better things that can be done with that kind of money.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Read the label: It's the cheesiest
I'm not sure what makes me more ill, that there's a half-dozen or more products, all representing the various states of matter, all named "fat free topping," or that one of those states could be less than 100% grated.
I mean, just what is this product, exactly? It's next to the grated "cheese," and it's similarly packaged, so you're left to infer it's of similar purpose. But, as you can see, the only claims it makes are that it's "fat free" and it's "grated," one hundred percent. (sorry, we've been reading more Horton.)
Oh, and it's a "topping." Not to be confused with fat free whipped topping, however (or the non-dairy whipped topping, or the fat free non-dairy whipped topping - though it should make you wonder what "non-dairy" item(s) laden with fat could be whipped into a topping, what fat free versions of them there are, why they still sell both and why you would choose to top anything you ate with them). They're fat free, so they must be good for you.
Really, how much of this synthetic oil emulsion dandruff do you expect to shower over your Caesar salad (or gooey eggplant parmigiana) that you have to worry about it being fat free? And for the whipped cream pretenders, just what are we supposed to put it on that being fat free would make any difference?
Do you know what Cool Whip® is? Lard. That's right, processed animal fat, like they use to make soap - with sugar in it. Did you know they made a "light" Cool Whip? How, exactly, do you make a low-fat fat? (how much fat in a low-fat fat, if a pole cat spat that fat?) Think about that the next time you're watching some housefrau scoop it up with baby carrots.
And I can hear all the milk-challenged people now, crying about how glandular discharge from a cow's teat could kill them. Shouldn't you people get over your cheese envy already? If you really have problems that Gas-X® won't help, you're probably not prone to eating Caesar salad, you're not going near a parmigiana, and you sure as shit aren't eating ice cream.
Then there's the vegans. Most of the self-compelled herbivores I know eat very healthily - most would not put crap like this into their bodies (well, they wouldn't eat it). But there's the other ones - lifetime PETA members with "meat is murder" bumper stickers (funny how you don't see that the other way around; if A=B, B=A, right?) who would like to believe they don't have canine teeth for a reason. Load your plate with veggies if you will, but don't (like your mom told you) imagine it's something else. If your idea of "sausage" is extruded soy gelatin, if your "burgers" are made of bean paste, then think about poor Wilbur all you want, but you're going to start drooling when you get a whiff of some frying bacon.
I once knew a woman who didn't eat meat. No, she wasn't the anemic bag of antlers who tried to tell me humans can't digest animal proteins (yeah, that happened), she just didn't like the taste (which I can respect). Her family, wanting to include her in the family cookout, would buy tofu "sausage" and veggie "burgers," and felt, "it's OK, they taste just like meat" was a selling point. Don't want it? Don't eat it. If Pavlov could get to you with the scent of barbecue sauce, then eat the freakin' thing already - stop pretending you're somehow "above" that. (don't let the pictures fool you, nothing died to make the food in that link; at least, nothing that wasn't a migrant day-laborer who didn't have it coming.)
[Full disclosure: I've had vegetarian BBQ shredded "pork" and found it better than OK (I'd eat it again), but the tofu "sausage" I tried once (because "it's got the same spices so it tastes exactly the same...") made me want to lick the bottom of my shoe to get the taste out of my mouth.]
But back to the pencil eraser debris in a can - they don't even try to stick the word "cheese" on it, the way my son's macaroni and hydrologized cottonseed and/or palm kernel oil with natural and artificial flavorings does. It's not even a "cheese food product." (and just what is cheese if not food?) No one can convince me there's a justifiable reason to manufacture, let alone give shelf space to such non-comestibles. They continue to sell this crap because people continue to buy it. It just proves that marketing aphorism, it doesn't matter what's in the can as long as the pictures on the outside are pretty.
Unsubstantiated rumor as fact.
(the Us Weekly cover espouses "her European Diet Secrets" right under "No Workouts." It seems the Star is less kind.)
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Horton Hears Who's Voting
My son has a new favorite book: Horton Hears a Who. He wants to read from it every night before bed. It has supplanted previous bedtime staples such as Goodnight Moon, The Going to Bed Book, and I Love You Stinky Face.
He's just 2, and while he listens to the story, I wish I could fully explain to him what the story means: Get out and vote.
Among other things.
At its core, the story is about speaking up for yourself and making yourself heard, "no matter how small."
(It does not have anything to do with people who presume to call themselves "pro life." Anti-abortionists co-opted the "no matter how small" stanza, and only after Theodore "Dr. Seuss" Geisel threatened to sue, did they take it off their stationary - though they still chant it, in movie theaters, in between screaming anti-abortion slogans at children.)
For those of you who don't have toddlers, Horton is an elephant whose really big ears allow him to hear the plight of tiny, near microscopic people called Whos. As others react with depraved indifference, almost destroying their little village, Horton, who is the only one who can hear them, decides to become their protector.
Several antagonists feel it is not enough to ridicule Horton for talking to people they don't think exist, they put him in a cage and try to destroy the Whos (to prove they don't exist, apparently).
Does any of this sound familiar?
John McCain was once asked what he considered "rich." He said "How about $5 million?" He said he was joking, but does he really not consider $1 million wealthy? Are you merely average at $500K?
Here's my question: in McCain's world, is anyone earning under $180K/yr (over 95% of Americans) worth paying attention to? Does he hear you? Do you even exist (to him) if he doesn't?
What economic crisis? Guess what, John McCain is still rich. How about you? Have all your assets been "boiled in Beezle-nut oil?" I guess that proves you don't exist, either.
What difference would one vote make?
In the story, all the Whos are making as much noise as they can, to prove to a sour kangaroo that they're real - all except one. Only with that one extra, "YOPP!" does the kangaroo and the Wickersham monkey clan hear them, and agree to protect them as well.
There was a recent bill in the Senate (# S.3335) to extend tax breaks for alternative energy sources (the kind of tax breaks we currently give oil companies to go find more oil, because, you know, they need an incentive). That bill was defeated by one vote - just one more "yes" and it would've extended tax credits for wind, solar, geothermal, etc. Curiously, Senator John McCain was absent that day. What would his vote have been?
Most registered voters don't even show up to vote. It's extremely easy to get disenchanted. I've been there, myself. I didn't register to vote until my 20's, and it was years after that I cared enough about goings-on to cast another ballot.
I used to say, "what difference would one vote make?" My wife used to say that, too. And her sister, and the bulk of their family, and many people I know who are/were similarly minded. Mine is "just one vote," and together we are dozens of "just one votes." The hundreds and thousands of people in your district who're going to sit at home and have their favorite shows interrupted by election results on Nov. 4 are hundreds and thousands of "just one votes." The last two presidential elections were decided by a few hundred thousand people.
George Carlin had a great argument for not participating. He said that by voting you were buying into the illusion that you actually had a choice in what happens.
I still say that democracy is being allowed to vote on getting a sharp stick in the eye, but when you show up at the poll, the choices are Right or Left.
I still have issues with people who want to be in a position of power over me. There are very few politicians I'd choose to vote for. So, yes, showing up to vote is like asking for a less painful sharp stick in the eye.
I just can't stand idly by and watch people actively try to destroy the little dust speck I live on. I have to make sure the people in Who-ville are heard.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
It is pitch black. You are likely to be eaten by a grue.
moar funny pictures
So, here I am finally getting around to joining the 21st Century. This is my official obligatory, "woo hoo! Lookit me! I are blogging!" post. I hate to make such ado about something most 13-yr-olds manage to do on an almost hourly basis - from their cell phones.
But then I don't know many people my age who blog. A year or two younger than me and a blog is almost as ubiquitous as a cell phone. But not so much for anyone who started high school before Regan was president. (and if you just said, "who?" you likely just wrote "lol" after it on the Twitter feed on your Facebook page.) I do have some friends (one in particular) who've been blogging for some time - back before it was called "blogging." Even before it was 'blog (short for "weblog"). Back when HTML was simple enough to write yourself in a word processor.
These folk have always been on the upswing of things technological. They had computers when DOS was new. They had beepers when the only people who carried such things were drug dealers. (and I include doctors in that category) I, myself, can lay claim to programming on punch cards and attaching my first computer to the TV, but I'm just not a bleeding edge kind of guy.
I've been a bit of a hold-out on just about everything. I was the last of most of the people I know to get a mobile phone. Even the most Luddite of persons will ask, "what's your cell number?" because it's a given that you have one. My father doesn't have Call-Waiting (doesn't believe in it) and even he broke down and got a mobile phone. (and as soon as he figures how he's going to text message those damned kids to get off his lawn.)
Ironically, as much as I like to pontificate, as much as I enjoy re-reading my own e-mails to people (my, that was certainly well-written), I've been humble enough to not assume that there's anyone out there that would care to hear my opinion on anything. More to the point, though I really do think you should listen to my opinion, with 60-someodd%* of people on the internet clamoring for your attention (* a statistic pulled from my rectum), who's to say that claim is any more valid than droves of sophomores with new iPhones?
So, to everyone who's said to me, "here, put this on your blog," or, "you have a blog, right?" or, "which RSS reader do you use to manage all the blogs you read?" - here, I have a blog now. Join me as I stumble about in the dark, trying (perhaps in vain) to become a writer of some merit.
More likely I'll be eaten by a grue.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Dibs
"It's a hard world to get a break in
All the good things have been taken
But girl there are ways
To make certain things pay
Though I'm dressed in these rags
I'll wear sable some day"
-The Animals, I'm Crying
Like every other great idea I've ever had, I've waited long enough that someone beat me to it. Here I am thinking that I've got a nifty idea for a blog name, and someone's already registered it.
Not entirely true, in this case, as I came upon my idea recently and whoever started theirs did so back in 2001, before we lived in a world of Global Terror (tm). If I'm ever able to figure out who started, then abandoned that site, I might be able to convince them to hand it over to me (and if you know who did, please e-mail me), but until that happens, this URL will have to do.
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