Today at work, I found myself working on an iPhone with some corrupted code in its operating system. While speaking to the customer, a lady in pink flopped down at the end of the bar, just in time to hear the last half of my conversation as I assured the customer that everything would be OK and I explained the steps that would need to be taken to get the phone's data back. As I walked around to go reset the phone, the woman in pink looked at me and said, "What part are you from?" Her accent was decidedly British.
This seemed to be an incomplete question to me, and I replied with the only thing I could immediately think of: "Come again?"
"What part are you from?"
"I'm sorry - what part of what? Do you mean where am I from?"
"Yes."
"Oh, sorry. I misunderstood. I'm from Atlanta, Georgia."
She seemed taken aback. "Really?" she said.
"That surprises you, it seems," I remarked.
"I thought I'd come across another expat losing his accent - you're very articulate and your manner of speaking is very English."
I smiled at that and thanked her, saying that she'd essentially made my day right there. I explained to her that my grandmother was from Great Britain, and that in partially raising me until I was two, she effectively canceled out whatever Southern accent I might have otherwise picked up.
In short, thank you Nana!
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Democracy
I sympathize with the artist (Stephan Pastis of "Pearls Before Swine") in this being something that absolutely terrifies me.
There is already a good portion of the populace that takes the word of their favorite pundit or news outlet as pure, unadulterated fact without any question or personal research. Forming one's opinion - especially on matters of policy that affect others - based solely on another's word is lazy and dangerously shallow. Ideological laziness amounts to little more than willful ignorance and should be inexcusable in even a mostly-intelligent society, but it tends to be passed off as the norm on both sides. If a member of "the team" or "the party" says it, it must be true. Period.
Take Arizona Senator Jon Kyl, for example - while arguing his case for stripping Planned Parenthood of federal funding before the Senate, he said that abortions accounted for 90% of the organization's services rendered. This statement was run unquestioned and unchecked on most news outlets as part of their budget coverage, but many right-leaning new shows and blogs slanted it as a shocking "ZOMG!! Think of teh childrens!" statement against the women's health organization and its apparently-prolific serial murder of unborn babies by the high percentages. As tends to happen when hot-button issues are raised on either side of the aisle, a reactionary derp-storm ensued. "How dare the federal government use our tax dollars to kill babies!" raged the right. "90 percent - that's like three-quarters! Defund the baby-killers!"
(Editor's note: federal law already prohibited the use of federal funding for abortions, so while the outrage was a moot point to begin with, when has logic and fact ever stopped a good rage? It's the whole "Keep the government's hands off my Medicare!" type of argument again).
Right about a day later, logic had found time to breathe after a severe laughing fit, and it brought some fact-checking to the table. It turns out that while Planned Parenthood does indeed provide abortion services, those services actually accounted for just 3% of services rendered in its most recently-released numbers (2009, IIRC). The majority of the clinic groups services included contraception, pregnancy tests, STD screenings, and women's health services including PAP smears (which, contrary to a Fox News reporter's indication, cannot be done at your neighborhood Walgreens). When contacted for an explanation as to why there was such a chasm between Senator Kyl's numbers and reality, his office replied that the senator's declaration on the Senate floor - given as part of a factually-persuasive declaration of reason to remove funding - was "not intended to be a factual statement."
In normal circles, a statement made with the deliberate intent to not be factual is called a lie. Or if you're one of the internet's famed "1337 h4xx0r$" and trying to get a reaction out of an under-informed observer by making a ludicrous, inflammatory statement which you don't even believe yourself, possibly a troll.
Somehow, I doubt that Kyl looked like this when he left the floor that day.
So, in the absence of "Troll" as an explanation, the senator had two options left as explanations. They are as follows: "Ignoramus" and "Liar."
At best, "it wasn't meant to be a factual statement" could mean that Senator Kyl was making his statement in ignorance. He might genuinely have not known that the numbers were bad. He might have thought that whatever homeschooled seven-year old he has doing his research was really onto something and never bothered to check for himself. Again, ideological laziness, much like his followers - "These numbers fit our argument - let's go with those. Why would we fact-check? They fit our argument!"
At worst, however, he knew he was lying but said it anyway and didn't plan on getting called out on it. It's not surprising, to be honest - when a point needs to be made and facts don't support that point, who has time to bother with facts when there's a chance that a lie will never actually be checked out? Such has been the story of politics from the earliest days of man, and so will it continue for the foreseeable future. For me, though, it makes a great barometer as to who needs to be voted out of office.
Neither option is particularly good for an elected representative to admit to, but seeing as how Senator Kyl has removed his incorrect statement from the Congressional record, I personally lead towards "liar" instead of "ignoramus."
Someone needs to fire his publicist. And someone else needs to fire his senator.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
¿Cómo Se Dice "Trollface" en Español?
While in Walmart this evening, I passed (perhaps foolishly) through the cookie aisle as I picked up a few things. In this aisle, I came upon a middle-aged Hispanic woman and her young child - maybe two or three years old. The child was pitching a fit over something - given the aisle I was in, I had a reasonable guess as to why - and his mother was trying to quiet him down. As I came towards them, the woman briefly locked eyes with me and then turned to her child and uttered a Spanish phrase that I had heard many times before in similar situations:
"Cállate o el gringo te va llevar."
"Be quiet or that white guy will take you away."
Apparently there is a superstition among certain segments of Hispanic culture that white guys ("gringos," to use the occasionally-derogatory colloquialism) will will steal away small children, usually to sell them, but the motive tends to vary by whim of the storyteller. In a way, the concept is similar to American culture's "boogeyman" or "Bloody Mary" (or if you're a South Park fan, Biggie Smalls), in that the kid's mind creates this ambiguous entity that will do them harm if they do or don't do certain things. Santa Claus fits the mold too, but so far as I'm aware, Jolly Old St Nick his never been accused of kidnapping naughty children; that would make for a great SyFy Channel Special, though.
In any case, I'd seen it before. Having spent two years living in Guatemala, I was made an occasional scapegoat and boogeyman in similar situations. I also came to be fluent in Spanish during that time, and that skill has served me well in many circumstances over the years. My accent has atrophied greatly due to lack of daily use, but my vocabulary and my comprehension are still decent, and my blonde hair and white skin give me great cover and a brilliant element of surprise, as few expect a "gringo" to be able to speak Spanish beyond "Where is the bathroom?" and "One more beer, please."
The little boy looked at me coming towards him and briefly stopped whining. His mom looked up at me at the same time, so I decided to break cover. As I passed by, I looked down at the kid and smiled at him.
"Házle caso a tu mama," I said in Spanish. ("Pay attention to your mom.")
The little boy's face became this:
Mom did this:
. . . and I walked away grinning like this:
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Root of All . . .
Money can buy one all sorts of things: it can buy you a supercharged Range Rover Sport, for example. It can buy flashy, oversized chrome rims with low-profile tires for said Range Rover. It can buy spirits by the shot, bottle, gallon, and/or keg of one's choosing, thereby facilitating one's need to purchase the services of a designated driver such as myself.
For all its apparent power and lust-worthy influence, however, money seems to be utterly helpless, incapable, and otherwise stupefyingly-unable to obtain certain important commodities. For evidence, one need look no further than the Range Rover's middle-aged owner; en route to his north Scottsdale home, no fewer than six times this gentleman let loose earth-shattering, underwear-soiling blasts of methane. Then, clearly proud of his achievement, each time he proceeded to snicker and giggle like a 10-year old schoolboy, causing his wife to turn a visible-in-the-dark shade of red.
When it comes to procuring even one iota of restraint, dignity or class, even the collective wealth of all the Earth's billionaires proves staggeringly impotent.
For all its apparent power and lust-worthy influence, however, money seems to be utterly helpless, incapable, and otherwise stupefyingly-unable to obtain certain important commodities. For evidence, one need look no further than the Range Rover's middle-aged owner; en route to his north Scottsdale home, no fewer than six times this gentleman let loose earth-shattering, underwear-soiling blasts of methane. Then, clearly proud of his achievement, each time he proceeded to snicker and giggle like a 10-year old schoolboy, causing his wife to turn a visible-in-the-dark shade of red.
When it comes to procuring even one iota of restraint, dignity or class, even the collective wealth of all the Earth's billionaires proves staggeringly impotent.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Questionable Interior Design
Picture a beachside condo: mere feet from high tide's sapphire waters, it is separated from the deep by a stripe of white sand, foam-crested waves lapping onto it with a soothing swishing sound. Birds cry as they fly by, fish occasionally breach the ocean's surface, and cottony clouds drift by lazily in the expansive heavens. Relaxing in the living room after a long day with a wall-sized window through which to view it all, doesn't it make for a beautiful feeling? Nature's awe-inspiring wonder makes one feel at peace and assures that even in the midst of chaos and unpredictability, the world is indeed a wonderful place.
Now picture the window: it is shaded by a black velvet overhang on top, draped on a three-inch thick brass rod by large, chrome rings. The rod hangs slightly askew, the left side a few inches lower than the other due to a combination of bad planning and shoddy materials - the shafts of the nails and screws meant to hold the bracket are clearly visible as gravity has proved the stronger force. On either side hang sheer curtains of divergent colors: the left is striped in varying shades of blue with golden stitching forming an irregular, inconsistent pattern, as though hand-sewn by an apprentice tailor at 3am after a night at the bar. The right curtain is a spectrum, ranging from the deepest crimson to a pale pink; it has the same erratic, unintelligible stitching patterns crisscrossing through its mostly-opaque panel as its comrade on the opposite side.
Behind the thin curtains on both sides, tenuously suspended by a length of sagging fishing line, hang two thick, brown blankets. Though presumably meant as blackout curtains, their density is insufficient to completely block out the outside light, as they give a slight glow when hit by the sun. When drawn with the main curtains, the combined bulk and color bunch up together and turn the slightly-transparent curtains a stomach-turning shade of vomit when drawn together and combined with the outside light.
The media coverage of the Tucson shooting of Congresswoman Giffords is this window. The reprehensible partisan blame-game and name-calling has shielded from view the real, inspiring story. The major talking points have revolved around who is ideologically at fault:
"Obviously the right's lax stance on gun control laws are to blame here - how else would a lunatic have gotten ahold of a weapon?"
"No, of course not - if gun laws weren't so tight to begin with, another responsibly-armed citizen might have stopped the gunman with a 50-cent bullet and saved the taxpayers a lot of money."
"You're both wrong - it's obviously Sarah Palin's fault. Her violent rhetoric and blood libel against the left planted the idea."
"B . . . but . . . Obama! Death panels!"
"I blame Bush! Assault weapons!"
Look, my point is this: out of all the current events that either side could have picked to politicize, this tragedy is probably the most inappropriate one possible. The negativity and vitriol being slung back and forth in our major media outlets is nothing short of appalling. Yes, the event is unspeakably tragic - many people lost their lives and even more were hurt, but exchanging accusations and insults as to who is at fault will do absolutely nothing to remedy the issue. The man at fault has been arrested and his motives are as yet unknown. The fault lies with him - Jared Loughner - not with the left's politics nor the right's. Let us lay blame on the perpetrator and leave the rest to the judicial system without demonizing any outside forces, regardless of the tact or logic they may or may not possess.
Therefore, why not pull the curtains back - or better yet, take them out of the picture altogether? The magnificent view through the window is Congresswoman Giffords' recovery - despite being shot in the head, her progress has been nothing short of miraculous. She will be transferred to a rehab facility in Texas very soon, and her doctors seem optimistic about her chances (Link).
Is it too much too ask for someone with the appropriate stroke within the media to take the high road on this one and ignore those who insist upon trudging through negativity's gutter? We, the public, deserve better, and more importantly, Congresswoman Giffords and the rest of the victims deserve better.
Now picture the window: it is shaded by a black velvet overhang on top, draped on a three-inch thick brass rod by large, chrome rings. The rod hangs slightly askew, the left side a few inches lower than the other due to a combination of bad planning and shoddy materials - the shafts of the nails and screws meant to hold the bracket are clearly visible as gravity has proved the stronger force. On either side hang sheer curtains of divergent colors: the left is striped in varying shades of blue with golden stitching forming an irregular, inconsistent pattern, as though hand-sewn by an apprentice tailor at 3am after a night at the bar. The right curtain is a spectrum, ranging from the deepest crimson to a pale pink; it has the same erratic, unintelligible stitching patterns crisscrossing through its mostly-opaque panel as its comrade on the opposite side.
Behind the thin curtains on both sides, tenuously suspended by a length of sagging fishing line, hang two thick, brown blankets. Though presumably meant as blackout curtains, their density is insufficient to completely block out the outside light, as they give a slight glow when hit by the sun. When drawn with the main curtains, the combined bulk and color bunch up together and turn the slightly-transparent curtains a stomach-turning shade of vomit when drawn together and combined with the outside light.
The media coverage of the Tucson shooting of Congresswoman Giffords is this window. The reprehensible partisan blame-game and name-calling has shielded from view the real, inspiring story. The major talking points have revolved around who is ideologically at fault:
"Obviously the right's lax stance on gun control laws are to blame here - how else would a lunatic have gotten ahold of a weapon?"
"No, of course not - if gun laws weren't so tight to begin with, another responsibly-armed citizen might have stopped the gunman with a 50-cent bullet and saved the taxpayers a lot of money."
"You're both wrong - it's obviously Sarah Palin's fault. Her violent rhetoric and blood libel against the left planted the idea."
"B . . . but . . . Obama! Death panels!"
"I blame Bush! Assault weapons!"
Look, my point is this: out of all the current events that either side could have picked to politicize, this tragedy is probably the most inappropriate one possible. The negativity and vitriol being slung back and forth in our major media outlets is nothing short of appalling. Yes, the event is unspeakably tragic - many people lost their lives and even more were hurt, but exchanging accusations and insults as to who is at fault will do absolutely nothing to remedy the issue. The man at fault has been arrested and his motives are as yet unknown. The fault lies with him - Jared Loughner - not with the left's politics nor the right's. Let us lay blame on the perpetrator and leave the rest to the judicial system without demonizing any outside forces, regardless of the tact or logic they may or may not possess.
Therefore, why not pull the curtains back - or better yet, take them out of the picture altogether? The magnificent view through the window is Congresswoman Giffords' recovery - despite being shot in the head, her progress has been nothing short of miraculous. She will be transferred to a rehab facility in Texas very soon, and her doctors seem optimistic about her chances (Link).
Is it too much too ask for someone with the appropriate stroke within the media to take the high road on this one and ignore those who insist upon trudging through negativity's gutter? We, the public, deserve better, and more importantly, Congresswoman Giffords and the rest of the victims deserve better.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Facebook Facepalm
I discovered today that Facebook has a new security feature in place that kicks in when you log in from an unknown computer. Cool enough, I say - my bank has the same feature in place, and given the rampant rise of identity theft and the abuse of other people's personal information in this ever-more-technological day and age, I think that it's a good step overall. The last thing I want, after all, is for someone with a tiny social circle and a large bank of spare time to send out funny kitty video viruses and Viagra ads through my Facebook profile.
Interesting side note: for some reason, my phone knows that the "V" in "Viagra" is supposed to be capitalized and corrected me when I failed to do so. I'm not entirely sure what that says about what Apple thinks of its user base given that they clearly thought to include that in the iOS autocorrection data bank. Perhaps they expect me to start talking to my reflection in building windows or to buy a classic muscle car.
In any case, Facebook did not seem to think things all the way through when they designed their system and their methods of accountholder identification. The first step is a bot-thwarting "Captcha," wherein you identify a pair of words in an image to ascertain your humanity, as opposed to a spam-machine. I'm not entirely sure how the technology works, but it generates random words into an image that a computer program supposedly cannot read, thereby preventing spammers from creating dummy accounts by the truckload and flooding our Walls with flotsam. If you're still not sure what they are, they usually look like this:
Sometimes they look like this:
And sometimes they look like this:
Googling "CAPTCHA fail" brings other amusing examples.
The second step in the re-Facebooking process is a multiple choice option of email/text verification, security questions, or a Facebook original: Identify Your Friends. This last option brings up a few friends' profile pictures and asks that you identify them out of six choices. Easy enough, right - if you're really you, you should know who [insert your name here]'s friends are. All would be fine and dandy were it not for a few annoying Facebook trends with which you, dear reader, may be familiar or even guilty of participation.
When I logged in via a work computer today, this is what I was presented with:
For the sake of reiteration, Facebook is asking me to identify which of my friends these are. Based on their profile pictures.
::Ahem::
Interesting side note: for some reason, my phone knows that the "V" in "Viagra" is supposed to be capitalized and corrected me when I failed to do so. I'm not entirely sure what that says about what Apple thinks of its user base given that they clearly thought to include that in the iOS autocorrection data bank. Perhaps they expect me to start talking to my reflection in building windows or to buy a classic muscle car.
In any case, Facebook did not seem to think things all the way through when they designed their system and their methods of accountholder identification. The first step is a bot-thwarting "Captcha," wherein you identify a pair of words in an image to ascertain your humanity, as opposed to a spam-machine. I'm not entirely sure how the technology works, but it generates random words into an image that a computer program supposedly cannot read, thereby preventing spammers from creating dummy accounts by the truckload and flooding our Walls with flotsam. If you're still not sure what they are, they usually look like this:
Sometimes they look like this:
And sometimes they look like this:
Googling "CAPTCHA fail" brings other amusing examples.
The second step in the re-Facebooking process is a multiple choice option of email/text verification, security questions, or a Facebook original: Identify Your Friends. This last option brings up a few friends' profile pictures and asks that you identify them out of six choices. Easy enough, right - if you're really you, you should know who [insert your name here]'s friends are. All would be fine and dandy were it not for a few annoying Facebook trends with which you, dear reader, may be familiar or even guilty of participation.
When I logged in via a work computer today, this is what I was presented with:
For the sake of reiteration, Facebook is asking me to identify which of my friends these are. Based on their profile pictures.
::Ahem::
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Why So Serious?
I initially tried to express my thoughts on this into a Facebook status update, but I found myself too verbose. Facebook wouldn't take it, but I want to make sure to post it:
I am absolutely in awe of The Daily Show's writing staff after having watched the opening segment on Monday's episode. In the wake of Saturday's senseless tragedy in Tucson, theirs was a stunning and well-spoken response to both the tragedy and the shameless finger-pointing from punditry that has emerged. The ridiculous amount of partisan hackery and attempts by one side to blame the other for the actions of a near-certifiable nutcase have been nothing short of sickening and so far, The Daily Show and Colbert Report have been the only ones to refuse to engage in such lunacy.
What does it say when a comedy network is left to be the voice of reason in mass media? What happened to integrity and civility in journalism and politics? I am glad someone fills that role, but it seems absurd that the duty of calling for sanity and decorum be left to the programs whose original - and yet, still continuing - mission is to ridicule, mock, and satirize.
When the jester can no longer mock, something is surely amiss in the kingdom.
I am absolutely in awe of The Daily Show's writing staff after having watched the opening segment on Monday's episode. In the wake of Saturday's senseless tragedy in Tucson, theirs was a stunning and well-spoken response to both the tragedy and the shameless finger-pointing from punditry that has emerged. The ridiculous amount of partisan hackery and attempts by one side to blame the other for the actions of a near-certifiable nutcase have been nothing short of sickening and so far, The Daily Show and Colbert Report have been the only ones to refuse to engage in such lunacy.
What does it say when a comedy network is left to be the voice of reason in mass media? What happened to integrity and civility in journalism and politics? I am glad someone fills that role, but it seems absurd that the duty of calling for sanity and decorum be left to the programs whose original - and yet, still continuing - mission is to ridicule, mock, and satirize.
When the jester can no longer mock, something is surely amiss in the kingdom.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Tech Facepalms
I have been working in my new capacity as an Apple mobile device tech for the last three weeks. In any job, one finds moments and customers that make one question one's faith in humanity as a race, but also how certain individuals manage to operate and live their lives without befalling some hideously-moronic tragedy. Tech support workers, however, are typically considered to have a higher number of these using their service, as theirs is a business of resolving problems that have arisen due to ignorance, idiocy, or a combination thereof. For example, most of the civilized world (by which I mean the non-brain-dead portion) considers the traditional tech support opening question of "Is the computer plugged in and turned on?" to be ridiculous and unnecessary, but tech support employees will swear that it is simply amazing how many times this simple question fixes the problem.
These moments are often referred to as "facepalm" moments - situations in which the sheer magnitude of the ineptitude or stupidity causes an observing participant to cover his/her face in shame of being even in proximity to such idiocy. One of my co-workers, for example, tells a story of how a middle-aged woman asked the following question shortly after the iPhone 4 was released: the woman was contemplating the higher-capacity model (32 gigabytes), and towards the end of the conversation she asked the following question: "As I put more music and stuff on it, will it get heavier?" This was asked with an utterly straight face, as the woman was apparently very concerned with the weight of her GBs and whether or not it had the wifis. I remarked that the tech should have sent the woman to Walgreens (YouTube is your friend).
We have all heard such stories from people in tech support sectors and other places (including an insurance call center rep who had the bad luck to ask me if I had a spare tire with me after I told her that I'd blown the rear tire on my motorcycle - let that one sink in for a minute) Today, however, I finally witnessed a tech support facepalm for myself first-hand.
A customer checked in with a phone that he said was taking blurry pictures, so I immediately looked at the lens. It did look a bit cloudy, but more pressing than the cloudy lens was the small, translucent plastic tab sticking out of the space between the gentleman's phone and its case.
"Oh, surely not," I thought, incredulous. "It can't be."
I probed as I entered his serial number: "Has it done this since you got it?"
"Yes. From day one."
"And how long ago was that?"
"Three or four weeks. I don't remember."
Had he not been right there in front of me, I would have facepalmed hard. Instead, I asked him to remove the case and hand the phone to me. He did, and the tab came with the phone.
I then proceeded to pull the tab away from the phone. The tab pulled a thin piece of plastic from covering the back of the phone, including the camera lens. The poor brain-dead gentleman had left the shipping protection in place, even though it completely covered the camera lens and flipped over the charging connection at the bottom of the phone. How he'd thought it a good idea to leave it all in place was beyond me; "This is a really poorly-designed back protector - I have to bend it back every time I charge my phone."
I turned the camera on, took a picture of the customer, turned the phone around to show off the shot, and proceeded to ask, "Does this look better?"
His response: "Oh."
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
MIM (Not As In Mad Madame)
Brittany is blessed with a regular 40-hour week at her job, which allows for a normally-predictable schedule: work Tuesday-Saturday, off Sunday and Monday. My schedule, on the other hand, is not nearly so stable. As a new employee, I am relegated to part-time status and only average about 28 hours per week on varying days. This makes it somewhat difficult for us to coordinate time together, especially when we want to get out and do something together, so when an opportunity presents itself we tend to jump on it and maximize it.
One such opportunity came last week, where we managed to both have Monday completely off. Knowing this ahead of time, we planned to take the day for ourselves and get out to try new things in Phoenix. Traveling, discovering new places and finding new places to eat and things to do is a favorite hobby of ours, and we made an excellent find last Monday: Phoenix's Musical Instrument Museum.
I happened across the museum one night while working for Zingo, and when I pitched the idea to Brittany, she was very excited to go. Both Brittany and I greatly enjoy music and we both have participated in orchestral groups in the past, so this seemed to be something that we would both enjoy. This is the first museum of its kind in the States, and is a unique concept in the world at large, as it is exclusively devoted to music and its various implements from around the world (shockingly enough).
My initial thought about the place was "Oh man - that place has got to be loud," as the idea of packing that many items and artifacts into one place - items whose sole purpose is to make noise - seemed like a chaotic din waiting to happen. Fortunately, the designers and curators took this into account and came up with a very clever way to use technology to fully show off the museum's collection.
The museum is divided up into exhibits by continent, and each continent then has several smaller areas devoted to its countries and their musical and cultural styles. At each display, visitors find a collection of instruments, photographs and costumes which together provide a snapshot into each country. Most stations also include a video screen which shows off footage of the instruments in action along with dance or other cultural pieces, and this is where the technology comes into play:
At the entrance, each visitor is given a set of headphones connected to a small receiver. As the visitor approaches an exhibit, a wireless transmitter hidden in the exhibit plays the audio for that station's video footage, fading it in quickly so that the visitor is in sync with what is on the screen. As the listener walks away, the audio fades out gradually and seamlessly - no static, no abruptness, and no crossing of signals. In some of the closer-placed exhibits, I deliberately tried to get the audio from one showcase to play when I neared another, but the system simply would not do it. The exhibits are so strategically-placed and the transmitters' frequencies so excellently calibrated that the signals only extend a certain distance and will not cross each other.
This allows for a very personal feel in the museum, and it makes the rooms very quiet when everyone plays by the rules. As we sat on a bench between continents, we were both amazed at the silence of the place. There was one large group of senior citizens there at the same time we were, and while they had a live tour guide (also a senior citizen) talking about everything, the entire museum was otherwise dead silent. This leant a sophisticated, elegant air to the building and significantly added to the overall experience.
On the other end of that serene spectrum, however, comes this:
This, boys and girls, is part of the "Experience Room," as I believe it was called. Located in a presumably-soundproof room at the far end of the museum, this room is filled with drums, guitars, xylophones, harps, and yes, a huge gong. All of these are fair game and can be played to your heart's desire except the gong, which is annoyingly limited to one strike per guest. This is best taken in at the end of the day, perhaps to bribe any otherwise-rambunctious children into being good for a few hours. While hammering that gong was quite satisfying in an inner-child-pleasing sort of way, I couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor volunteer senior who had to watch over the room. There were no school groups there that day, but heaven only knows what sort of mayhem would ever be wrought if a busload of kindergarteners ever got their hands on that room. Time for grandpa to put the hearing aid on "Mute," I would imagine.
All in all, though some sections were a tad dry and repetitive (there are very few differences between the music of Niger and that of Nigeria, for example, and once you've seen one drum with feet, you've seen them all), if one has even a passing interest in music or culture, the Musical Instrument Museum is certainly worth a visit. If you enjoy nothing else about it, go to the Experience Room and let loose your inner Animal. Just please don't eat drums, though. Beat drums. Beat drums.
(Note: for pictures of some of the more bizarre pieces of MIM's collection, check out my photos on my Facebook page)
One such opportunity came last week, where we managed to both have Monday completely off. Knowing this ahead of time, we planned to take the day for ourselves and get out to try new things in Phoenix. Traveling, discovering new places and finding new places to eat and things to do is a favorite hobby of ours, and we made an excellent find last Monday: Phoenix's Musical Instrument Museum.
I happened across the museum one night while working for Zingo, and when I pitched the idea to Brittany, she was very excited to go. Both Brittany and I greatly enjoy music and we both have participated in orchestral groups in the past, so this seemed to be something that we would both enjoy. This is the first museum of its kind in the States, and is a unique concept in the world at large, as it is exclusively devoted to music and its various implements from around the world (shockingly enough).
My initial thought about the place was "Oh man - that place has got to be loud," as the idea of packing that many items and artifacts into one place - items whose sole purpose is to make noise - seemed like a chaotic din waiting to happen. Fortunately, the designers and curators took this into account and came up with a very clever way to use technology to fully show off the museum's collection.
The museum is divided up into exhibits by continent, and each continent then has several smaller areas devoted to its countries and their musical and cultural styles. At each display, visitors find a collection of instruments, photographs and costumes which together provide a snapshot into each country. Most stations also include a video screen which shows off footage of the instruments in action along with dance or other cultural pieces, and this is where the technology comes into play:
At the entrance, each visitor is given a set of headphones connected to a small receiver. As the visitor approaches an exhibit, a wireless transmitter hidden in the exhibit plays the audio for that station's video footage, fading it in quickly so that the visitor is in sync with what is on the screen. As the listener walks away, the audio fades out gradually and seamlessly - no static, no abruptness, and no crossing of signals. In some of the closer-placed exhibits, I deliberately tried to get the audio from one showcase to play when I neared another, but the system simply would not do it. The exhibits are so strategically-placed and the transmitters' frequencies so excellently calibrated that the signals only extend a certain distance and will not cross each other.
This allows for a very personal feel in the museum, and it makes the rooms very quiet when everyone plays by the rules. As we sat on a bench between continents, we were both amazed at the silence of the place. There was one large group of senior citizens there at the same time we were, and while they had a live tour guide (also a senior citizen) talking about everything, the entire museum was otherwise dead silent. This leant a sophisticated, elegant air to the building and significantly added to the overall experience.
On the other end of that serene spectrum, however, comes this:
This, boys and girls, is part of the "Experience Room," as I believe it was called. Located in a presumably-soundproof room at the far end of the museum, this room is filled with drums, guitars, xylophones, harps, and yes, a huge gong. All of these are fair game and can be played to your heart's desire except the gong, which is annoyingly limited to one strike per guest. This is best taken in at the end of the day, perhaps to bribe any otherwise-rambunctious children into being good for a few hours. While hammering that gong was quite satisfying in an inner-child-pleasing sort of way, I couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor volunteer senior who had to watch over the room. There were no school groups there that day, but heaven only knows what sort of mayhem would ever be wrought if a busload of kindergarteners ever got their hands on that room. Time for grandpa to put the hearing aid on "Mute," I would imagine.
All in all, though some sections were a tad dry and repetitive (there are very few differences between the music of Niger and that of Nigeria, for example, and once you've seen one drum with feet, you've seen them all), if one has even a passing interest in music or culture, the Musical Instrument Museum is certainly worth a visit. If you enjoy nothing else about it, go to the Experience Room and let loose your inner Animal. Just please don't eat drums, though. Beat drums. Beat drums.
(Note: for pictures of some of the more bizarre pieces of MIM's collection, check out my photos on my Facebook page)
Friday, August 13, 2010
Greenpiece of My Mind Part Deux: Electric Boogaloo
Somewhat unexpectedly, my last entry drew a decent response on Facebook, in person, and via email. Most responders agreed with me, though there was one person at work (I'll call her "Ms. Greene-Earthmother) who took exception to my criticism of the Green "movement," as she called it. She accused me of being insensitive to the "growing environmental crisis" facing our planet and snidely remarked that I as a gearhead just wanted to use up all the resources I could and leave none for my grandchildren after I died. To this, I would respond that I will be Greener than ever after I pass away, as I will have little choice at that point except to leave my body to compost.
The problem with today's Green technology in the automotive sector is a simple case of dollars and sense. The technology is simply not advanced enough or cost-efficient enough to make it an acceptable return on investment, so it ends up being more of a gaudy "look how awesome I am" sort of fashion statement, like a bedazzled Ed Hardy T-shirt or a "diamond" encrusted "Princess" choker. Case in point: the loudest reason by far for hybrid ownership is the fuel savings; this seems reasonable enough - everyone wants better gas mileage out of their vehicle so that Big Oil takes fewer dollars out of their pockets. Honestly, that line of thinking is fine, so long as the analysis stops right there and goes home for the day. Dealers know this - in fact, they count on it.
With hybrids having swiftly become Green status symbols, dealers can afford to slap an elevated price on their windshields as compared to the conventional versions because their elevated fuel efficiency makes them special vehicles to the under-informed. In fact, a common reply that I hear from the Greenheaded - and from Ms. Greene-Earthmother herself - in regards to hybrids' pricing is that "The money I save on gas more than makes up for the difference in price."
Side note: it turns out that responding to this statement with even the mildest snark ("Were you told that there would be no math?") tends to end the conversation, not that there was anything profitable to be gained from it in the first place. People do not take kindly to being educated about their own idiocy for some reason, but it is a mere matter of fact: crunching a few figures - using no post-5th grade math - shows just how efficiently a hybrid sneaks the buyer's money into a salesman's pocket and does little more for the consumer than allow them to start conversations with "Yeah, it's a hybrid." Though for most buyers, this seems to be enough.
With no direct competitor for the Ms. Greene-Earthmother's Prius currently available on the market (no gas-only option, and no comparable model made by a competitor), let's turn the mathematical microscope to the Lexus RX350 SUV, which has both a conventional and a hybrid version available, and is a favorite of the dreaded "soccer-mom" variant of the species. Its front-wheel drive hybrid trim carries an MSRP of $43,560 according to Lexus, which is rather pricey for a smallish SUV. This trim line is roughly equivalent to its front-drive base trim, which presents the buyer with a conventional six-cylinder engine, mostly-equivalent standard features, and a $38,500 price tag. Remember those numbers, as we'll be coming back to them in a minute.
Using the same given numbers as in the previous entry (12,000 miles per year and average gas price of $3.02), we now note that the hybrid's average fuel economy is 30mpg, while the conventional version manages 22mpg. Over the 12k miles in a year, the hybrid uses 400 gallons of fuel for a cost of $1,208, while the conventional version racks up 545 gallons for a cost of $1,646 per year. Edge: hybrid by $438 per year.
Now factor in the cost of the vehicle itself: excluding taxes, interest, and so on, the hybrid RX (referred to as the "RX450h" in Lexus-ish) costs $5,060 more than its conventional sibling. When divided by the average fuel savings per year - again, the most-oft-cited reason for buying a hybrid when the buyer doesn't want to simply come out and say "Because I'm better than you" - we find that it will take 11.6 years for those fuel savings to recoup the price difference between these otherwise-identical models. Most people don't even keep their cars that long. Heck, most people don't even keep their pets that long. Sorry, Molly.
Our next example follows the same basic pattern. The Honda Civic Hybrid commands an MSRP of $24,550, while the closest equivalent conventional model has a price tag of $19,155, but eschews the hybrid model's CVT for a traditional automatic transmission. The hybrid pulls an impressive EPA average of 42mpg, while the conventional version manages 31mpg; this is a difference of 11mpg out the gate, which is fairly substantial. Over the course of the 12,000 miles, the hybrid drinks 286 gallons at a cost of $864. The conventional version gulps down 387 gallons over the same distance and racks up a tab of $1,169 in the process. This results in a difference of $305 per year in favor of the hybrid, but once again, the difference in MSRP proves to be a very wide gap. With the hybrid costing $5,395 more than its conventional counterpart, the $305 that the consumer would save on fuel will take a staggering 17.7 years to make up for its price difference.
To put that in perspective, it only takes slightly longer to give birth to, raise, and finally send a child out into the world. And just like all the money you spend on that child over those many, many years, you will never see a full recouping of the money you spent on that hybrid either.
The next Greenheaded statement is usually something to the effect of "But I drive a whole lot more than 12,000 miles per year. I'll recoup my money much more quickly." Again, snark will not prolong the conversation, so statements such as "If ignorance truly is bliss, you must be happy all the time" are not generally acceptable responses. Unfortunately, neither is a rational presentation of the facts, apparently.
Going back to the RX450h, the hybrid version costs $5,060 more than its comparably-equipped conventional counterpart. To make up for that difference in even the life of a standard car loan, the driver would have to be a prolific road warrior, because in order for the fuel savings to break that mark over five years, you would need to drive around 30,000 miles a year. Even more astoundingly, it would take the Civic owner roughly 45,000 miles a year to do the same thing. While Ms. Green-Earthmother might consider her weekly latte-in-hand errands to be the stuff of vehicular legend, I can assure you, dear reader, that the only way she would reach this mark would be under the following set of circumstances:
McKenna's gymnastics classes would need to be in New York, little Bayden's soccer practices in Seattle, their playdates would have to live in Los Angeles and Miami, and mommy's weekly mani-pedi (heaven help me, I didn't have to look that one up) appointments would have to be in Texas. Even then, I doubt that the mark would be reached, as I overhear Scottsdale trophy wives complain from time to time about having to drive "all the way to Chandler" for one reason or another (for the Google-impaired, Scottsdale and Chandler, both in Arizona, are separated by about fifteen miles of straight freeway. A grueling drive, to be sure).
I have absolutely no objection to the advance of technology, and certainly don't see anything wrong in aiming that technological telescope at fuel efficiency and other Green tech. My objection to the Green movement lies in the fact that for the true benefit of the consumer, a product's Green-ness should not come at an elevated price premium or at the expense of common sense, and the vast majority of today's Green tech fails on both counts. Until this is fixed, hybrid technology is little more than a fad and a marketing cash cow - yet another trendy way for the self-important to be proud and for snobs to be snobbish. As Hetfield mused, "Arrogance and ignorance go hand in hand."
The problem with today's Green technology in the automotive sector is a simple case of dollars and sense. The technology is simply not advanced enough or cost-efficient enough to make it an acceptable return on investment, so it ends up being more of a gaudy "look how awesome I am" sort of fashion statement, like a bedazzled Ed Hardy T-shirt or a "diamond" encrusted "Princess" choker. Case in point: the loudest reason by far for hybrid ownership is the fuel savings; this seems reasonable enough - everyone wants better gas mileage out of their vehicle so that Big Oil takes fewer dollars out of their pockets. Honestly, that line of thinking is fine, so long as the analysis stops right there and goes home for the day. Dealers know this - in fact, they count on it.
With hybrids having swiftly become Green status symbols, dealers can afford to slap an elevated price on their windshields as compared to the conventional versions because their elevated fuel efficiency makes them special vehicles to the under-informed. In fact, a common reply that I hear from the Greenheaded - and from Ms. Greene-Earthmother herself - in regards to hybrids' pricing is that "The money I save on gas more than makes up for the difference in price."
Side note: it turns out that responding to this statement with even the mildest snark ("Were you told that there would be no math?") tends to end the conversation, not that there was anything profitable to be gained from it in the first place. People do not take kindly to being educated about their own idiocy for some reason, but it is a mere matter of fact: crunching a few figures - using no post-5th grade math - shows just how efficiently a hybrid sneaks the buyer's money into a salesman's pocket and does little more for the consumer than allow them to start conversations with "Yeah, it's a hybrid." Though for most buyers, this seems to be enough.
With no direct competitor for the Ms. Greene-Earthmother's Prius currently available on the market (no gas-only option, and no comparable model made by a competitor), let's turn the mathematical microscope to the Lexus RX350 SUV, which has both a conventional and a hybrid version available, and is a favorite of the dreaded "soccer-mom" variant of the species. Its front-wheel drive hybrid trim carries an MSRP of $43,560 according to Lexus, which is rather pricey for a smallish SUV. This trim line is roughly equivalent to its front-drive base trim, which presents the buyer with a conventional six-cylinder engine, mostly-equivalent standard features, and a $38,500 price tag. Remember those numbers, as we'll be coming back to them in a minute.
Using the same given numbers as in the previous entry (12,000 miles per year and average gas price of $3.02), we now note that the hybrid's average fuel economy is 30mpg, while the conventional version manages 22mpg. Over the 12k miles in a year, the hybrid uses 400 gallons of fuel for a cost of $1,208, while the conventional version racks up 545 gallons for a cost of $1,646 per year. Edge: hybrid by $438 per year.
Now factor in the cost of the vehicle itself: excluding taxes, interest, and so on, the hybrid RX (referred to as the "RX450h" in Lexus-ish) costs $5,060 more than its conventional sibling. When divided by the average fuel savings per year - again, the most-oft-cited reason for buying a hybrid when the buyer doesn't want to simply come out and say "Because I'm better than you" - we find that it will take 11.6 years for those fuel savings to recoup the price difference between these otherwise-identical models. Most people don't even keep their cars that long. Heck, most people don't even keep their pets that long. Sorry, Molly.
Our next example follows the same basic pattern. The Honda Civic Hybrid commands an MSRP of $24,550, while the closest equivalent conventional model has a price tag of $19,155, but eschews the hybrid model's CVT for a traditional automatic transmission. The hybrid pulls an impressive EPA average of 42mpg, while the conventional version manages 31mpg; this is a difference of 11mpg out the gate, which is fairly substantial. Over the course of the 12,000 miles, the hybrid drinks 286 gallons at a cost of $864. The conventional version gulps down 387 gallons over the same distance and racks up a tab of $1,169 in the process. This results in a difference of $305 per year in favor of the hybrid, but once again, the difference in MSRP proves to be a very wide gap. With the hybrid costing $5,395 more than its conventional counterpart, the $305 that the consumer would save on fuel will take a staggering 17.7 years to make up for its price difference.
To put that in perspective, it only takes slightly longer to give birth to, raise, and finally send a child out into the world. And just like all the money you spend on that child over those many, many years, you will never see a full recouping of the money you spent on that hybrid either.
The next Greenheaded statement is usually something to the effect of "But I drive a whole lot more than 12,000 miles per year. I'll recoup my money much more quickly." Again, snark will not prolong the conversation, so statements such as "If ignorance truly is bliss, you must be happy all the time" are not generally acceptable responses. Unfortunately, neither is a rational presentation of the facts, apparently.
Going back to the RX450h, the hybrid version costs $5,060 more than its comparably-equipped conventional counterpart. To make up for that difference in even the life of a standard car loan, the driver would have to be a prolific road warrior, because in order for the fuel savings to break that mark over five years, you would need to drive around 30,000 miles a year. Even more astoundingly, it would take the Civic owner roughly 45,000 miles a year to do the same thing. While Ms. Green-Earthmother might consider her weekly latte-in-hand errands to be the stuff of vehicular legend, I can assure you, dear reader, that the only way she would reach this mark would be under the following set of circumstances:
McKenna's gymnastics classes would need to be in New York, little Bayden's soccer practices in Seattle, their playdates would have to live in Los Angeles and Miami, and mommy's weekly mani-pedi (heaven help me, I didn't have to look that one up) appointments would have to be in Texas. Even then, I doubt that the mark would be reached, as I overhear Scottsdale trophy wives complain from time to time about having to drive "all the way to Chandler" for one reason or another (for the Google-impaired, Scottsdale and Chandler, both in Arizona, are separated by about fifteen miles of straight freeway. A grueling drive, to be sure).
I have absolutely no objection to the advance of technology, and certainly don't see anything wrong in aiming that technological telescope at fuel efficiency and other Green tech. My objection to the Green movement lies in the fact that for the true benefit of the consumer, a product's Green-ness should not come at an elevated price premium or at the expense of common sense, and the vast majority of today's Green tech fails on both counts. Until this is fixed, hybrid technology is little more than a fad and a marketing cash cow - yet another trendy way for the self-important to be proud and for snobs to be snobbish. As Hetfield mused, "Arrogance and ignorance go hand in hand."
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