Happy New Year!
Why do we say that every year? Who could possibly be happy at a time that, for most, falls on a cold day in the midst of winter? Our most important holiday, whether you are Christian, Jew or Muslim, is recently over, so there really is nothing to celebrate.
I suppose we could make it a wish for a better year than the one just passed, but it certainly hasn’t shown any promise, and it will require hard work and brains to make it productive.
Then there are those “resolutions” to formulate and keep. Few or us actually achieve what we set out to do in the New Year, and resolutions to do so are generally broken within a few short weeks.
Oh well, I’m going to tell you of my resolutions regarding communications. I tell you this in the hope that you will help me to keep them by not sending me anything to tempt me to break them.
First, I have been advised by my daughter and my daughter-in-law (and many times by my youngest sister) that I open way too much email. Each time I do that I open my computer up to viruses, Trojan Horses, worms, and other malware (a.k.a. malicious software) that can come in on an innocuous-looking message or attachment.
Therefore, I am resolved to delete any message that contains attachments without reading it. I might preview the message in Outlook and read the subject line and possibly any text in the body of the message, but I will not click on the attachment(s). Anything you send that you want me to look at had better be in the main body, or else you might as well not send it.
Second, I’m also leery of links that come with a message, so I probably won’t click on them either. If I want to see something on the Internet, I will type in the address myself. Links and attachments are where malicious little bastards hide their dirty work, so I’m told. (Not you, but those MLBs who sent it to you)
Third, I will be cautious in opening any message that is forwarded to me. If you want me to read or see something, learn how to paste it into your PC word processor and then copy it into your “original” message. If you cannot do that, don’t bother sending it.
That’s it! Those are my New Year Resolutions. Of course, since I am telling you what I will and will not open in the way of email messages, I will be bound by the same rules in my sending to you. If I put an attachment in, I won’t expect you to open it, and if I type in a link, I expect you to use your own search engine to locate and open it. I will not “forward” messages that I receive. Instead, if I want to share the content with you, I will take the time and effort to re-compose it so that it excludes any risky content.
I’m not sure how this will work out, but I know that it will mean a lot less email from me, at least until I break my resolutions. You have my permission to chastise me if and when I do so. But rest assured that anything you get from me will be original content—no FW: stuff.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Saturday, January 2, 2010
A Tale of Two Sinners
For over a month now there has bee a frenzy of activity in all the news media regarding the Transgressions of Tiger. By far the most frequent search on Google has been “Tiger’s transgressions.” There have been cartoons, doctored pictures, malicious stories, and countless jokes circulated about Tiger Woods’ dalliances and peccadilloes. Dozens of women have come forward to allege that Tiger slept with them.
I have been as guilty as the next person of spreading the rumors, and forwarding the trash on Tiger. So, this column is not written to chastise you, but rather to chastise all of us. The publicity and the public scolding of Tiger Woods have gone on long enough. In my opinion, we have torn down an acknowledged sports idol over an indiscretion that has nothing whatsoever to do with his talent for the game of golf.
Shame on us, America!!! Shame on us, World!!!
When I set out to write this column, I was looking for something or someone with whom to compare Tiger Woods. I thought of Pete Rose, because he is also a sports legend who was stripped of his laurels and deserted by his sponsors.
But Rose’s sin was gambling. He wasn’t accused of cheating on his wife and family. He apparently did have an addiction to gambling, similar to what is now being described as Tiger’s addiction to sex.
No, Rose comes close, but not close enough. Besides, Rose’s story is a parallel to Tiger’s. Both have been summarily drummed out of the corps, so to speak.
I wanted to find a comparison that is the opposite of Tiger’s to show how two-faced we are. I think I found the perfect persona in another prominent figure who was recently accused of the exact same transgressions as was Tiger Woods, but who came away from it with his dignity, his honor, and his legacy.
I refer, of course, to President Bill Clinton.
No one can deny that both Woods and Clinton were accused of the same adulterous behavior. Both cheated on their wives and family. Both initially denied the charges, but were forced to recant when overwhelming evidence was brought to public attention.
The difference is that the results were completely different for these two men. Where Tiger is losing sponsors, along with millions of dollars in income, and losing even his reputation—I don’t know how the extracurricular sex affected his golf stroke, but that is yet another joke that circulates—President Clinton was defended by millions of fans and the news media, too.
Clinton was not only guilty of the original sin, but also lied under oath in court. Yet, his crime was excused and forgiven by his adoring fans. The Congress even ruled in his favor when articles of impeachment were filed against him. The catch phrase, if you’ll recall, was “It’s only sex.” Oh yes, Clinton rephrased it to be “It wasn’t sex.”
Why is Tiger Woods being hounded and harassed by everyone to a point where he might have to quit the game of golf due to all the negative publicity his addiction has generated? Why have most of his sponsors deserted him in his obvious time of need?
We gave President Clinton a clean bill of health and didn’t strip him of his office. His sin and the aftermath even catapulted his wife into the Senate and now into Obama’s Cabinet as Secretary of State.
Though is isn’t fully relevant, there are many who for years have tried to get Pete Rose reinstated so that he can take his rightful place in the Baseball Hall Of Fame.
Where is the outrage for Woods?
Even O. J. Simpson, of whom there is no doubt anymore that he was guilty of the murders, is still in the Football Hall of Fame. Of course, he’s also finally in prison, though it is for a different and lesser offense.
Where is the outrage for Woods?
Where is the justice for Tiger Woods?
Let’s make it another of our New Year’s Resolutions that we will quit spreading all of the titillating rumors and gossip about Tiger and let him resolve his private and personal problems without further trashing of the man.
I have been as guilty as the next person of spreading the rumors, and forwarding the trash on Tiger. So, this column is not written to chastise you, but rather to chastise all of us. The publicity and the public scolding of Tiger Woods have gone on long enough. In my opinion, we have torn down an acknowledged sports idol over an indiscretion that has nothing whatsoever to do with his talent for the game of golf.
Shame on us, America!!! Shame on us, World!!!
When I set out to write this column, I was looking for something or someone with whom to compare Tiger Woods. I thought of Pete Rose, because he is also a sports legend who was stripped of his laurels and deserted by his sponsors.
But Rose’s sin was gambling. He wasn’t accused of cheating on his wife and family. He apparently did have an addiction to gambling, similar to what is now being described as Tiger’s addiction to sex.
No, Rose comes close, but not close enough. Besides, Rose’s story is a parallel to Tiger’s. Both have been summarily drummed out of the corps, so to speak.
I wanted to find a comparison that is the opposite of Tiger’s to show how two-faced we are. I think I found the perfect persona in another prominent figure who was recently accused of the exact same transgressions as was Tiger Woods, but who came away from it with his dignity, his honor, and his legacy.
I refer, of course, to President Bill Clinton.
No one can deny that both Woods and Clinton were accused of the same adulterous behavior. Both cheated on their wives and family. Both initially denied the charges, but were forced to recant when overwhelming evidence was brought to public attention.
The difference is that the results were completely different for these two men. Where Tiger is losing sponsors, along with millions of dollars in income, and losing even his reputation—I don’t know how the extracurricular sex affected his golf stroke, but that is yet another joke that circulates—President Clinton was defended by millions of fans and the news media, too.
Clinton was not only guilty of the original sin, but also lied under oath in court. Yet, his crime was excused and forgiven by his adoring fans. The Congress even ruled in his favor when articles of impeachment were filed against him. The catch phrase, if you’ll recall, was “It’s only sex.” Oh yes, Clinton rephrased it to be “It wasn’t sex.”
Why is Tiger Woods being hounded and harassed by everyone to a point where he might have to quit the game of golf due to all the negative publicity his addiction has generated? Why have most of his sponsors deserted him in his obvious time of need?
We gave President Clinton a clean bill of health and didn’t strip him of his office. His sin and the aftermath even catapulted his wife into the Senate and now into Obama’s Cabinet as Secretary of State.
Though is isn’t fully relevant, there are many who for years have tried to get Pete Rose reinstated so that he can take his rightful place in the Baseball Hall Of Fame.
Where is the outrage for Woods?
Even O. J. Simpson, of whom there is no doubt anymore that he was guilty of the murders, is still in the Football Hall of Fame. Of course, he’s also finally in prison, though it is for a different and lesser offense.
Where is the outrage for Woods?
Where is the justice for Tiger Woods?
Let’s make it another of our New Year’s Resolutions that we will quit spreading all of the titillating rumors and gossip about Tiger and let him resolve his private and personal problems without further trashing of the man.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
A Christmas Newsletter
I received a Christmas newsletter from one of my long-lost-but-not-forgotten friends along with the annual Christmas card. It was filled with many tidbits of information and humor. Some of the references were mysterious and lacked meaning for me. Those were written for close family and friends. The newsletter was nevertheless a nice touch, and well written.
Newsletters are generally written for the entertainment of the immediate family, so the inclusion of others is somewhat an honor. However, lacking a context for the events that included family members can make the prose boring and meaningless. Heidi, the author of this particular letter, included enough detail to make everything interesting and funny.
I’ve never tried to write a newsletter, but Heidi has inspired me to give it a whirl. I hope that I can follow her lead.
2009 was a traumatic year in that I lost a brother, Don, to cancer, even though his doctors told him that they had discovered it early enough that the prognosis was good. His death came at a time when we originally had planned to hold our bi-annual family reunion. It spelled the probable end to that tradition. We have lost three of the original ten, and two spouses have voluntarily withdrawn from attending.
We did enjoy seven wonderful, fun reunions, which originated from my remarks at our mother’s funeral in 1993 that the next time we would meet would be to say goodbye to a brother or sister. Our oldest brother, Dick, passed away just days before the reunion in September of 2005, so we did have a memorial for him at that one.
But that’s enough of the morbid. 2009 had its bright spots, too.
Judy and I decided to take separate vacations this year, since I get way too involved in my hobby of barbershop singing. Unfortunately, Judy is not a fan of the art, and I get a lot of fun and satisfaction from it. We do have an agreement that I don’t practice in her presence, so harmony in our home is definitely not the musical variety. She just leaves town when I get into show business, so I'm entitled to my own time away when I'm not performing.
One really positive benefit that came from the above is that I was able to take my long solo auto trip in June. I actually got to drive, something I never do when Judy is with me. The trip was just short of 7,500 miles, and I had a long string of “didn’ts.” For instance, I didn’t get any traffic tickets, and I didn’t have any accidents. I didn’t get lost, but that might have been attributable to my GPS. Finally, I didn’t miss very much along the way. (I stopped so often that I might need a new set of brakes soon)
I kept a daily journal on my trip, and sent it each night along with pictures to several of you. After I returned home I had requests from others for the journal, which I aptly titled “Don’t Fence Me In.” In all, I believe I repeated the journal messages four times, and each time I did so it was like taking the trip all over again. If you missed it and would like to share it, I’ll be glad to run it once more. Just let me know.
A really nice change took place this year. Instead of paying rent to someone else to help pay off their mortgage on their town home, we decided to purchase our own property and quit subsidizing others. Throwing away $9,000 per year somehow didn’t seem wise.
Of course, there were some other incentives to make it worthwhile to own our home. The New Home Buyer Credit was a huge factor in our decision. September 24 marked the third anniversary of the sale of the El Paso home. That qualified us as “new” buyers. It was like getting a big discount on the new home, but it was really better than that. Any time you can get a dollar-for-dollar tax credit, you should take it. We did!
The town home we bought is in a fairly new subdivision on the outskirts of Augusta, but not really in Grovetown. It is a rural area that used to be a buffalo bison ranch, and as soon as I tell that to anyone who lives here, they know exactly where it is. It’s funny that we just can’t seem to get away from Buffalo no matter how far we go from Western New York.
Speaking of economics, not a day goes by that I don’t give thanks that I am no longer in the work force. I know that many of you have been negatively impacted by the state of our economy, and I sympathize with you. I hope that you were able to put aside some funds for that rainy day which seems to have arrived.
Okay, here comes the family part… Our kids are doing well. Our daughter, Cathy and husband Jeff have embarked on a new phase in life, as Jeff just retired from the Army and will be a civilian contractor. He just won't have a uniform on and won't be deployed again. Grandson Chase is a junior in High school, and he reminds me of myself at that age, but I won’t elaborate on that. We live only about 15 minutes away from them, so there is plenty of family interaction.
I can’t close this newsletter without the customary picture of my family—in this case, my favorite “grand puppy”—Abby, the cutest and smartest Dachshund in the world, in her Christmas finery.
That about wraps it up. I trust that I haven’t bored too many of you and that I have at least entertained the rest. Judy and I both wish each and every one of you a blessed and prosperous new year in 2010. It is hard to believe that Y2K was ten years in the past, doesn’t it?
Newsletters are generally written for the entertainment of the immediate family, so the inclusion of others is somewhat an honor. However, lacking a context for the events that included family members can make the prose boring and meaningless. Heidi, the author of this particular letter, included enough detail to make everything interesting and funny.
I’ve never tried to write a newsletter, but Heidi has inspired me to give it a whirl. I hope that I can follow her lead.
2009 was a traumatic year in that I lost a brother, Don, to cancer, even though his doctors told him that they had discovered it early enough that the prognosis was good. His death came at a time when we originally had planned to hold our bi-annual family reunion. It spelled the probable end to that tradition. We have lost three of the original ten, and two spouses have voluntarily withdrawn from attending.
We did enjoy seven wonderful, fun reunions, which originated from my remarks at our mother’s funeral in 1993 that the next time we would meet would be to say goodbye to a brother or sister. Our oldest brother, Dick, passed away just days before the reunion in September of 2005, so we did have a memorial for him at that one.
But that’s enough of the morbid. 2009 had its bright spots, too.
Judy and I decided to take separate vacations this year, since I get way too involved in my hobby of barbershop singing. Unfortunately, Judy is not a fan of the art, and I get a lot of fun and satisfaction from it. We do have an agreement that I don’t practice in her presence, so harmony in our home is definitely not the musical variety. She just leaves town when I get into show business, so I'm entitled to my own time away when I'm not performing.
One really positive benefit that came from the above is that I was able to take my long solo auto trip in June. I actually got to drive, something I never do when Judy is with me. The trip was just short of 7,500 miles, and I had a long string of “didn’ts.” For instance, I didn’t get any traffic tickets, and I didn’t have any accidents. I didn’t get lost, but that might have been attributable to my GPS. Finally, I didn’t miss very much along the way. (I stopped so often that I might need a new set of brakes soon)
I kept a daily journal on my trip, and sent it each night along with pictures to several of you. After I returned home I had requests from others for the journal, which I aptly titled “Don’t Fence Me In.” In all, I believe I repeated the journal messages four times, and each time I did so it was like taking the trip all over again. If you missed it and would like to share it, I’ll be glad to run it once more. Just let me know.
A really nice change took place this year. Instead of paying rent to someone else to help pay off their mortgage on their town home, we decided to purchase our own property and quit subsidizing others. Throwing away $9,000 per year somehow didn’t seem wise.
Of course, there were some other incentives to make it worthwhile to own our home. The New Home Buyer Credit was a huge factor in our decision. September 24 marked the third anniversary of the sale of the El Paso home. That qualified us as “new” buyers. It was like getting a big discount on the new home, but it was really better than that. Any time you can get a dollar-for-dollar tax credit, you should take it. We did!
The town home we bought is in a fairly new subdivision on the outskirts of Augusta, but not really in Grovetown. It is a rural area that used to be a buffalo bison ranch, and as soon as I tell that to anyone who lives here, they know exactly where it is. It’s funny that we just can’t seem to get away from Buffalo no matter how far we go from Western New York.
Speaking of economics, not a day goes by that I don’t give thanks that I am no longer in the work force. I know that many of you have been negatively impacted by the state of our economy, and I sympathize with you. I hope that you were able to put aside some funds for that rainy day which seems to have arrived.
Okay, here comes the family part… Our kids are doing well. Our daughter, Cathy and husband Jeff have embarked on a new phase in life, as Jeff just retired from the Army and will be a civilian contractor. He just won't have a uniform on and won't be deployed again. Grandson Chase is a junior in High school, and he reminds me of myself at that age, but I won’t elaborate on that. We live only about 15 minutes away from them, so there is plenty of family interaction.
I can’t close this newsletter without the customary picture of my family—in this case, my favorite “grand puppy”—Abby, the cutest and smartest Dachshund in the world, in her Christmas finery.
That about wraps it up. I trust that I haven’t bored too many of you and that I have at least entertained the rest. Judy and I both wish each and every one of you a blessed and prosperous new year in 2010. It is hard to believe that Y2K was ten years in the past, doesn’t it?
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Who Uses The Public Library
I’ll probably catch hell for this column, but it really needs to be said by somebody.
I received an e-mail message from the Augusta Richmond County Public Library a week or so ago. It was disguised as a wish for a happy holiday season, but it was really a plea for a donation. There was a question asked in the body of the letter, “who really uses the public library?”
The main library in downtown Augusta is being rebuilt, although I recently passed the old building and it looks pretty good to me. Of course, I’ve never been inside that building, since I use one of the local branches near my home.
However, since they asked the question, “Who really uses the public library?” it got me to thinking about that. The answer is not conducive to anyone asking for supplemental funds to augment the $24 million raised by taxes to put up the new library.
If you live in any medium to large metropolitan area—most of us do—and you have a main public library downtown, then I suspect that you have the same problems that have plagued public libraries throughout the country, and maybe throughout the world.
The information I am sharing with you is not hearsay. I use my branch library once per week for a Spanish class, so I and other members of the class have lots of experience with the conditions I will describe. I am sure they are common to most, if not all the public libraries in Augusta.
There are several vagrants—the PC term is homeless victims—who have made libraries their home. They are not there to read or to check out books; they are there because it is a warm place in winter and a cool place in summer. And they cannot be thrown out for loitering, since it is a “public facility, open to all residents.”
Oh yes, there is another convenience that the library provides; bathrooms. Not that you would tell the person has bathed anytime recently if you get up close and personal with one. They do use bathrooms for their other purpose, and often leave the room in horrible shape; plugged commodes, filthy sinks, waste paper strewn all over the floor. Etc.
I have to admit that I have probably used the main library on occasions, but only to request books or audio-visual materials from my computer at home to be shipped to the branch library for pickup. Yes, the main library usually does have the largest volume of materials. I don’t really know why that is the case, since few people go out of their way to visit the main one when a branch library is so much closer to their home.
On that topic, the main library in El Paso, my former residence city, was rebuilt over the course of two years. During that whole period, the books and materials were stored away from the public instead of being distributed to the branches. I estimate that one-third of the total materials were unavailable for public use during that whole two-year time.
I wonder if a similar situation to that in El Paso will happen here. I certainly hope not.
After thinking through and reviewing all the above, I will not be contributing any money to the construction project. It will get built without my support and I do not want to even think that I helped build a huge edifice to provide a daytime refuge for the homeless. There are already several places that cater to their needs, and I don’t want to share our public library with some of them who don’t deserve it in the first place. That is especially true if it is going to cost over $24 million of our taxpayer dollars to restore a building that might have been trashed by those very people.
Okay, now you can e-mail me and tell me how cruel and heartless I am. Just to let you know that it won’t change my mind or attitude, however.
*****************************************************
I wrote the column last year at this time, but I didn’t publish it then. Instead, I wanted to find out how the library project would proceed. Now I can tell you that the books from the main library have been available, unlike the experience I had in El Paso. Also, the library renovation is well along, and the reopening is planned for July of 2010.
I don’t know what the homeless folks have been doing while the library has been under construction, but I do give donations to the city mission and other charities and I hope they are being used to help feed and shelter those poor souls.
I guess I have changed some after all. Merry Christmas
I received an e-mail message from the Augusta Richmond County Public Library a week or so ago. It was disguised as a wish for a happy holiday season, but it was really a plea for a donation. There was a question asked in the body of the letter, “who really uses the public library?”
The main library in downtown Augusta is being rebuilt, although I recently passed the old building and it looks pretty good to me. Of course, I’ve never been inside that building, since I use one of the local branches near my home.
However, since they asked the question, “Who really uses the public library?” it got me to thinking about that. The answer is not conducive to anyone asking for supplemental funds to augment the $24 million raised by taxes to put up the new library.
If you live in any medium to large metropolitan area—most of us do—and you have a main public library downtown, then I suspect that you have the same problems that have plagued public libraries throughout the country, and maybe throughout the world.
The information I am sharing with you is not hearsay. I use my branch library once per week for a Spanish class, so I and other members of the class have lots of experience with the conditions I will describe. I am sure they are common to most, if not all the public libraries in Augusta.
There are several vagrants—the PC term is homeless victims—who have made libraries their home. They are not there to read or to check out books; they are there because it is a warm place in winter and a cool place in summer. And they cannot be thrown out for loitering, since it is a “public facility, open to all residents.”
Oh yes, there is another convenience that the library provides; bathrooms. Not that you would tell the person has bathed anytime recently if you get up close and personal with one. They do use bathrooms for their other purpose, and often leave the room in horrible shape; plugged commodes, filthy sinks, waste paper strewn all over the floor. Etc.
I have to admit that I have probably used the main library on occasions, but only to request books or audio-visual materials from my computer at home to be shipped to the branch library for pickup. Yes, the main library usually does have the largest volume of materials. I don’t really know why that is the case, since few people go out of their way to visit the main one when a branch library is so much closer to their home.
On that topic, the main library in El Paso, my former residence city, was rebuilt over the course of two years. During that whole period, the books and materials were stored away from the public instead of being distributed to the branches. I estimate that one-third of the total materials were unavailable for public use during that whole two-year time.
I wonder if a similar situation to that in El Paso will happen here. I certainly hope not.
After thinking through and reviewing all the above, I will not be contributing any money to the construction project. It will get built without my support and I do not want to even think that I helped build a huge edifice to provide a daytime refuge for the homeless. There are already several places that cater to their needs, and I don’t want to share our public library with some of them who don’t deserve it in the first place. That is especially true if it is going to cost over $24 million of our taxpayer dollars to restore a building that might have been trashed by those very people.
Okay, now you can e-mail me and tell me how cruel and heartless I am. Just to let you know that it won’t change my mind or attitude, however.
*****************************************************
I wrote the column last year at this time, but I didn’t publish it then. Instead, I wanted to find out how the library project would proceed. Now I can tell you that the books from the main library have been available, unlike the experience I had in El Paso. Also, the library renovation is well along, and the reopening is planned for July of 2010.
I don’t know what the homeless folks have been doing while the library has been under construction, but I do give donations to the city mission and other charities and I hope they are being used to help feed and shelter those poor souls.
I guess I have changed some after all. Merry Christmas
Saturday, December 12, 2009
E-mail Alerts!
I received a message earlier this week from a well-meaning friend. The main thrust of the message was that the truth-checkers at www.snopes.com had determined that almost every single e-mail you receive that admonishes you to, “Forward this on to 10 (or some number) of your friends, sign this petition, or you’ll get bad luck, you’ll see something funny on your screen after you send it, or similar endings” contains a hidden e-mail tracker program attached that tracks emails and cookies of the folks to whom you forward the message.
The same is true of those obnoxious messages that shame you into forwarding something about God, or Jesus, or some other religious or political cause. They all contain some form of tracker that can later be used to spam you or your friends and family.
I know, those messages take us all in, even when we promise ourselves that we will cease and desist from ever forwarding them again. I try to follow a rule that I keep any of those things I’m tempted to forward for at least 24-hours before I send them on, and that does eliminate about 50 percent or more of them on review.
Well, when I decided to write this column, I wanted to make it light and somewhat funny, so I’m not going to preach to you. Instead, I’m going to republish an article that I first ran into about two years ago. It was written by a guy named Seth Shostak, an astronomer at the SETI Institute in California—or at least he was one when he wrote the column.
Before I get into the meat of the article, I have a few observations. (Was that a pun? Astronomer-observations. Hmmm?)
1. What parent nowadays names their son Seth?
2. Astronomers must have a lot of time to waste during the day.
3. It’s much easier to give credit and copy than it is to compose a column; less thinking, you know.
Okay, having said that, here is the work of Mr. Shostak. I’ll add a few comments of my own at the end or the piece.
You Call This Progress?
By Seth Shostak
Newsweek, January 18, 1999
E-mail has become a steady drip of dubious prose, bad jokes and impatient requests. It's as ubiquitous as winter damp, a pernicious miasma that brings rot and ruin to society's delicate underpinnings. I speak of e-mail, the greatest threat to civilization since lead dinnerware addled the brains of the Roman aristocracy.
A technical byproduct of the Internet, e-mail lets 10 million Americans pound out correspondence faster than you can say QWERTY. One twitch of the finger is all it takes to dispatch missives to the next continent or the next cubicle at light speed. The result is a flood of what is loosely called communication, a tsunami of bytes that is threatening to drown white-collar workers everywhere. Masquerading as a better way to put everyone in touch, e-mail has become an incessant distraction, a nonstop obligation and a sure source of stress and anxiety. I expect that a public statement by the surgeon general is in the offing.
Mind you, e-mail started out cute and cuddly, an inoffensive spin-off from a government defense project. The technically inclined used it to send personal messages to colleagues without the need for a stamp or a wait. Only a small group of folks—mostly at universities—were plugged in to this select network. The amount of traffic was manageable. E-mail was something to be checked every week or so. But technology marches on. Today access to the Internet is widespread, as common and accessible as a cheap motel. Everyone's wired, and everyone has something to say.
Unfortunately, this is not polite correspondence, the gentle art of letter writing in electronic form. E-mail is aggressive. It has a built-in, insistent arrogance. Because it arrives more or less instantaneously, the assumption is that you will deal with it quickly. "Quickly" might mean minutes, or possibly hours. Certainly not days. Failure to respond directly usually produces a second missive sporting the mildly critical plaint, "Didn't you get my last e-mail?" This imperative for the immediate makes me yearn for old-style written communication, in which a week might lapse between inquiry and response. Questions and discussion could be considered in depth. A reply could be considered (or mentally shelved, depending on circumstance). Today, however, all is knee-jerk reaction.
In addition, there is the dismaying fact that electronically generated mail, despite being easy to edit, is usually prose at its worst. Of every 10 e-mails I read, nine suffer from major spelling faults, convoluted grammar and a stunning lack of logical organization. ASCII graffiti. For years I assumed this was an inevitable byproduct of the low student test scores so regularly lamented in newspaper editorials. Johnny can't read, so it's not surprising that he can't write either. But now I believe that the reason for all this unimpressive prose is something else: e-mail has made correspondents of folks who would otherwise never compose a text. It encourages messaging because it is relatively anonymous. The shy, the introverted and the socially inept can all hunker down before a glowing computer and whisper to the world. This is not the telephone, with its brutally personal, audible contact. It's not the post, for which an actual sheet of paper, touched by the writer and displaying his imperfect calligraphic skills, will end up under the nose of the recipient. E-mails are surreptitiously thrown over an electronic transom in the dead of night, packaged in plain manila envelopes.
Still, it is not these esthetic debilities that make e-mail such a threat. Rather, it's the unstoppable proliferation. Like the brooms unleashed by the sorcerer's apprentice, e-mails are beginning to overwhelm those who use them. Electronic correspondence is not one to one. It is one to many, and that's bad news on the receiving end. The ease with which copies of any correspondence can be dispensed to the world ensures that I am "kept informed" of my co-workers' every move. Such bureaucratic banter was once held in check by the technical limitations of carbon paper. Now my colleagues just punch a plastic mouse to ensure my exposure to their thoughts, their plans and the endless missives that supposedly prove that they're doing their jobs.
Because of e-mail's many-tentacled reach, its practitioners hardly care whether I'm around or not. I'm just another address in a list. So the deluge of digital correspondence continues irrespective of whether I'm sitting in my cubicle doing the boss's business or lying on the Côte d'Azur squeezing sand through my toes. Either way the e-mail, like a horde of motivated Mongolians, just keeps a-comin'. Vacations have lost their allure, and I hesitate to leave town. Consider: if I disappear for two weeks of rest and recreation, I can be sure of confronting screenfuls of e-mail upon my return. It's enough to make a grown man groan. The alternative is to take a laptop computer along, in the desperate hope of keeping up with e-mail's steady drip, drip, drip. Needless to say, there's something unholy about answering e-mails from your holiday suite. A friend recently told me that he can't afford to die: the e-mail would pile up and nobody could handle it.
Today I will receive 50 electronic messages. Of that number, at least half require a reply. (Many of the others consist of jokes, irrelevant bulletins and important announcements about secret cookie recipes. I actually like getting such junk e-mails, as they allow the pleasure of a quick delete without guilt.) If I spend five minutes considering and composing a response to each correspondence, then two hours of my day are busied with e-mail, even if I don't initiate a single one. Since the number of Internet users is doubling about once a year, I expect that by the start of the new millennium, I—and millions like me—will be doing nothing but writing e-mails. The collapse of commerce and polite society will quickly follow.
I'm as much in favor of technology as the next guy. Personally, I think the Luddites should have welcomed the steam looms. But if you insist on telling me that e-mail is an advance, do me a favor and use the phone.
Okay, on to my remarks… Did you note the date of that missive? Ten years have elapsed since Seth wrote that piece of vitriolic verse, and his prediction for the millennium notwithstanding, we have survived the onslaught of exponential increase in electronic mail. I don’t know about you, but the first thing I do in the morning, even before I get my first cup of coffee, is check my e-mail. And there are usually a dozen or more of the messages waiting for me. (One of my buddies is a night owl, and I can always tell when he’s been hitting the sauce, too.)
I share some of the author’s complaints, especially those about the grammar and spelling. Every e-mail template has a spell-checker and most will even detect fragmented and awkward sentence structure. Yet, much of the mail I receive has numerous typos, misspellings and meaningless phrases that masquerade as prose. You will not find that in mine if I can help it, I promise you.
However, having put all that down, I still enjoy seeing a full Inbox. I don’t even mind when I get the same joke for the umpteenth time, or when the message promises to reward or punish me, based on my willingness to forward it to 7—have you noticed that 7 is the magic number—of my closest friends and confidants. I always take great pleasure in hitting the ‘Delete’ key on those.
Finally, though I know that Mr. Shostak was annoyed, I also detect some great humor in his lament. I suspect that, like you and me, he would be disappointed if he went to his PC some day and there was not a single e-mail message waiting for his perusal. Let’s face it, we’re social animals, and we love attention no matter how we get it.
The same is true of those obnoxious messages that shame you into forwarding something about God, or Jesus, or some other religious or political cause. They all contain some form of tracker that can later be used to spam you or your friends and family.
I know, those messages take us all in, even when we promise ourselves that we will cease and desist from ever forwarding them again. I try to follow a rule that I keep any of those things I’m tempted to forward for at least 24-hours before I send them on, and that does eliminate about 50 percent or more of them on review.
Well, when I decided to write this column, I wanted to make it light and somewhat funny, so I’m not going to preach to you. Instead, I’m going to republish an article that I first ran into about two years ago. It was written by a guy named Seth Shostak, an astronomer at the SETI Institute in California—or at least he was one when he wrote the column.
Before I get into the meat of the article, I have a few observations. (Was that a pun? Astronomer-observations. Hmmm?)
1. What parent nowadays names their son Seth?
2. Astronomers must have a lot of time to waste during the day.
3. It’s much easier to give credit and copy than it is to compose a column; less thinking, you know.
Okay, having said that, here is the work of Mr. Shostak. I’ll add a few comments of my own at the end or the piece.
You Call This Progress?
By Seth Shostak
Newsweek, January 18, 1999
E-mail has become a steady drip of dubious prose, bad jokes and impatient requests. It's as ubiquitous as winter damp, a pernicious miasma that brings rot and ruin to society's delicate underpinnings. I speak of e-mail, the greatest threat to civilization since lead dinnerware addled the brains of the Roman aristocracy.
A technical byproduct of the Internet, e-mail lets 10 million Americans pound out correspondence faster than you can say QWERTY. One twitch of the finger is all it takes to dispatch missives to the next continent or the next cubicle at light speed. The result is a flood of what is loosely called communication, a tsunami of bytes that is threatening to drown white-collar workers everywhere. Masquerading as a better way to put everyone in touch, e-mail has become an incessant distraction, a nonstop obligation and a sure source of stress and anxiety. I expect that a public statement by the surgeon general is in the offing.
Mind you, e-mail started out cute and cuddly, an inoffensive spin-off from a government defense project. The technically inclined used it to send personal messages to colleagues without the need for a stamp or a wait. Only a small group of folks—mostly at universities—were plugged in to this select network. The amount of traffic was manageable. E-mail was something to be checked every week or so. But technology marches on. Today access to the Internet is widespread, as common and accessible as a cheap motel. Everyone's wired, and everyone has something to say.
Unfortunately, this is not polite correspondence, the gentle art of letter writing in electronic form. E-mail is aggressive. It has a built-in, insistent arrogance. Because it arrives more or less instantaneously, the assumption is that you will deal with it quickly. "Quickly" might mean minutes, or possibly hours. Certainly not days. Failure to respond directly usually produces a second missive sporting the mildly critical plaint, "Didn't you get my last e-mail?" This imperative for the immediate makes me yearn for old-style written communication, in which a week might lapse between inquiry and response. Questions and discussion could be considered in depth. A reply could be considered (or mentally shelved, depending on circumstance). Today, however, all is knee-jerk reaction.
In addition, there is the dismaying fact that electronically generated mail, despite being easy to edit, is usually prose at its worst. Of every 10 e-mails I read, nine suffer from major spelling faults, convoluted grammar and a stunning lack of logical organization. ASCII graffiti. For years I assumed this was an inevitable byproduct of the low student test scores so regularly lamented in newspaper editorials. Johnny can't read, so it's not surprising that he can't write either. But now I believe that the reason for all this unimpressive prose is something else: e-mail has made correspondents of folks who would otherwise never compose a text. It encourages messaging because it is relatively anonymous. The shy, the introverted and the socially inept can all hunker down before a glowing computer and whisper to the world. This is not the telephone, with its brutally personal, audible contact. It's not the post, for which an actual sheet of paper, touched by the writer and displaying his imperfect calligraphic skills, will end up under the nose of the recipient. E-mails are surreptitiously thrown over an electronic transom in the dead of night, packaged in plain manila envelopes.
Still, it is not these esthetic debilities that make e-mail such a threat. Rather, it's the unstoppable proliferation. Like the brooms unleashed by the sorcerer's apprentice, e-mails are beginning to overwhelm those who use them. Electronic correspondence is not one to one. It is one to many, and that's bad news on the receiving end. The ease with which copies of any correspondence can be dispensed to the world ensures that I am "kept informed" of my co-workers' every move. Such bureaucratic banter was once held in check by the technical limitations of carbon paper. Now my colleagues just punch a plastic mouse to ensure my exposure to their thoughts, their plans and the endless missives that supposedly prove that they're doing their jobs.
Because of e-mail's many-tentacled reach, its practitioners hardly care whether I'm around or not. I'm just another address in a list. So the deluge of digital correspondence continues irrespective of whether I'm sitting in my cubicle doing the boss's business or lying on the Côte d'Azur squeezing sand through my toes. Either way the e-mail, like a horde of motivated Mongolians, just keeps a-comin'. Vacations have lost their allure, and I hesitate to leave town. Consider: if I disappear for two weeks of rest and recreation, I can be sure of confronting screenfuls of e-mail upon my return. It's enough to make a grown man groan. The alternative is to take a laptop computer along, in the desperate hope of keeping up with e-mail's steady drip, drip, drip. Needless to say, there's something unholy about answering e-mails from your holiday suite. A friend recently told me that he can't afford to die: the e-mail would pile up and nobody could handle it.
Today I will receive 50 electronic messages. Of that number, at least half require a reply. (Many of the others consist of jokes, irrelevant bulletins and important announcements about secret cookie recipes. I actually like getting such junk e-mails, as they allow the pleasure of a quick delete without guilt.) If I spend five minutes considering and composing a response to each correspondence, then two hours of my day are busied with e-mail, even if I don't initiate a single one. Since the number of Internet users is doubling about once a year, I expect that by the start of the new millennium, I—and millions like me—will be doing nothing but writing e-mails. The collapse of commerce and polite society will quickly follow.
I'm as much in favor of technology as the next guy. Personally, I think the Luddites should have welcomed the steam looms. But if you insist on telling me that e-mail is an advance, do me a favor and use the phone.
Okay, on to my remarks… Did you note the date of that missive? Ten years have elapsed since Seth wrote that piece of vitriolic verse, and his prediction for the millennium notwithstanding, we have survived the onslaught of exponential increase in electronic mail. I don’t know about you, but the first thing I do in the morning, even before I get my first cup of coffee, is check my e-mail. And there are usually a dozen or more of the messages waiting for me. (One of my buddies is a night owl, and I can always tell when he’s been hitting the sauce, too.)
I share some of the author’s complaints, especially those about the grammar and spelling. Every e-mail template has a spell-checker and most will even detect fragmented and awkward sentence structure. Yet, much of the mail I receive has numerous typos, misspellings and meaningless phrases that masquerade as prose. You will not find that in mine if I can help it, I promise you.
However, having put all that down, I still enjoy seeing a full Inbox. I don’t even mind when I get the same joke for the umpteenth time, or when the message promises to reward or punish me, based on my willingness to forward it to 7—have you noticed that 7 is the magic number—of my closest friends and confidants. I always take great pleasure in hitting the ‘Delete’ key on those.
Finally, though I know that Mr. Shostak was annoyed, I also detect some great humor in his lament. I suspect that, like you and me, he would be disappointed if he went to his PC some day and there was not a single e-mail message waiting for his perusal. Let’s face it, we’re social animals, and we love attention no matter how we get it.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
The End Must Be Near
I don’t usually publish a column in the middle of the week, but wait until Saturday to send my weekly words. However, this is too interesting to hold in suspense, and I have a topic for Saturday’s column anyway. I just have to get this out now.
December is shaping up to be a pretty interesting month for the world. I try my best not to show too much emotion (laughing or crying or screaming and cursing) but it is becoming increasingly difficult.
Let me see if I can recap what has occurred so far…
Someone hacked into some computers of the Climate Research Unit at the University of East Anglia—sounds like some outpost in Outer Mongolia to me—and discovered some very damaging and embarrassing e-mails that seem to make the whole topic of global warming a farce and a cover-up. Not only do the “scientists” input junk for effect, they collaborate on which junk to include and how to doctor the results to make it seem more compelling to their case.
As if that wasn’t enough, our own Environmental Protection Agency issued an edict that carbon dioxide is definitely a poison, and we humans are in mortal danger from it. Now, I don’t know about you, but every time I exhale a breath, it consists of carbon dioxide. That means that I am poisoning the very air I breathe. I am also guilty of poisoning your air too, but then, if you are at all similar to me, you’re also poisoning my air.
What a field day for the lawyers this new discovery will make!! We can all sue each other for millions, and when I die, my relatives can have all of you arrested and charged with murder. Well, maybe they can do it selectively, and I’ll have my will written to include only those whom I want charged with the crime.
On that same topic, most of our vegetation on this planet consumes and thrives on carbon dioxide. If we humans are going to make it a crime to produce it, then I think there is a need for some beneficent group to come to the aid of plant life. Maybe it could be known as “People for the Ethical Treatment of Plants” (PETP). It would be similar to PETA, and I’m sure some of those same people would join and defend the trees.
Oh wait! We already have a society for preservation of the trees, the Sierra Club. Well, maybe they could take up the cause.
Our Congress is in hot and heavy debate on the government takeover of our health care, and they are now meeting on Sundays, even though our Constitution specifically forbids it. (Constitution, what Constitution? We don’t need no stinking Constitution!) Just for reference, Congress never called a Sunday meeting even during our most horrendous days in WWII.
Here’s another nugget… President Obama is claiming credit for “reducing our deficit” by not spending $200 billion of the $787 billion in TARP money. Let me see if I really understand that. Our economy tanked and Obama pumped $787 additional dollars that we didn’t have into the debt total to “save” the nation. Then, when it became evident that only three-fourths of that debt was spent—without saving anything, by the way—he said that we could “reduce the deficit” by not spending the rest. Hmmm, that seems logical.
But wait, it gets even better. Now the president wants to “spend the rest” to get the economy moving again. Wait a minute! I’m confused. How do you reduce the deficit by spending money that you don’t really have, but that you just said you saved?
I’m not done yet. In his now infamous speech at West Point, our Commander-in-Chief outlined his plan to increase our troop strength in Afghanistan by 30,000—General McChrystal asked for 40-60,000 four months ago—while at the same time and in the same breath announcing a withdrawal of all forces beginning in July of 2011.
Let’s see, he’s going to put 30,000 more troops in harm’s way for eighteen months, during which some will inevitably be injured or killed, but they are not promised any justification for their sacrifice. The goal is certainly not victory.
I’m srry, I cn’t typ enymre cuse I cant sei vry wll. Im laugng and cryng to hrd, nd thetears ar blrring my vsion.
December is shaping up to be a pretty interesting month for the world. I try my best not to show too much emotion (laughing or crying or screaming and cursing) but it is becoming increasingly difficult.
Let me see if I can recap what has occurred so far…
Someone hacked into some computers of the Climate Research Unit at the University of East Anglia—sounds like some outpost in Outer Mongolia to me—and discovered some very damaging and embarrassing e-mails that seem to make the whole topic of global warming a farce and a cover-up. Not only do the “scientists” input junk for effect, they collaborate on which junk to include and how to doctor the results to make it seem more compelling to their case.
As if that wasn’t enough, our own Environmental Protection Agency issued an edict that carbon dioxide is definitely a poison, and we humans are in mortal danger from it. Now, I don’t know about you, but every time I exhale a breath, it consists of carbon dioxide. That means that I am poisoning the very air I breathe. I am also guilty of poisoning your air too, but then, if you are at all similar to me, you’re also poisoning my air.
What a field day for the lawyers this new discovery will make!! We can all sue each other for millions, and when I die, my relatives can have all of you arrested and charged with murder. Well, maybe they can do it selectively, and I’ll have my will written to include only those whom I want charged with the crime.
On that same topic, most of our vegetation on this planet consumes and thrives on carbon dioxide. If we humans are going to make it a crime to produce it, then I think there is a need for some beneficent group to come to the aid of plant life. Maybe it could be known as “People for the Ethical Treatment of Plants” (PETP). It would be similar to PETA, and I’m sure some of those same people would join and defend the trees.
Oh wait! We already have a society for preservation of the trees, the Sierra Club. Well, maybe they could take up the cause.
Our Congress is in hot and heavy debate on the government takeover of our health care, and they are now meeting on Sundays, even though our Constitution specifically forbids it. (Constitution, what Constitution? We don’t need no stinking Constitution!) Just for reference, Congress never called a Sunday meeting even during our most horrendous days in WWII.
Here’s another nugget… President Obama is claiming credit for “reducing our deficit” by not spending $200 billion of the $787 billion in TARP money. Let me see if I really understand that. Our economy tanked and Obama pumped $787 additional dollars that we didn’t have into the debt total to “save” the nation. Then, when it became evident that only three-fourths of that debt was spent—without saving anything, by the way—he said that we could “reduce the deficit” by not spending the rest. Hmmm, that seems logical.
But wait, it gets even better. Now the president wants to “spend the rest” to get the economy moving again. Wait a minute! I’m confused. How do you reduce the deficit by spending money that you don’t really have, but that you just said you saved?
I’m not done yet. In his now infamous speech at West Point, our Commander-in-Chief outlined his plan to increase our troop strength in Afghanistan by 30,000—General McChrystal asked for 40-60,000 four months ago—while at the same time and in the same breath announcing a withdrawal of all forces beginning in July of 2011.
Let’s see, he’s going to put 30,000 more troops in harm’s way for eighteen months, during which some will inevitably be injured or killed, but they are not promised any justification for their sacrifice. The goal is certainly not victory.
I’m srry, I cn’t typ enymre cuse I cant sei vry wll. Im laugng and cryng to hrd, nd thetears ar blrring my vsion.
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