tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16834432024-03-16T08:00:47.301-04:00Glancing AskanceGlancing Askance is a weekly column published by Marc Wollin in Bedford NY. Published since 1995 in publications with a combined circulation of over 10,000 readers, it was selected as the Best Humor Column in its class by the New York Press Association. New Subscribers, Rants and Raves, Comments and Critiques are all welcome at marcwollin@gmail.com. Collections available at Amazon (http://tinyurl.com/pd27gha). Thanks for reading!Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.comBlogger852125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-23208994554348618442024-03-16T04:30:00.002-04:002024-03-16T08:00:15.595-04:00Break the Rules<p>We are a society of rules and laws. Whether it be in the public sphere, on the playing field or just in our interactions with each other, we have sets of guidelines that dictate our interactions, some formal, some less so. Step out of line and you risk punishment of one form or another, be it arrest and prison or arched eyebrows and mild disapproval. </p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">In the case of laws, the establisher and arbiter is the state, and the consequences for breaking said laws are pre-determined and don't vary regardless of condition or circumstance. Penalties can run from punitive to disciplinary, from the aforementioned slammer to fines and sanctions. While there are certainly exceptions, in the main "we" generally follow them, and stay on the right side of the line.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">But rules? Rules, as they say, are meant... nay, are just begging... to be broken. The second someone somewhere sets down an edict as to how you have to do something is the moment that certain members of the consuming audience go the other way. Sometimes it's intentional, other times it's not, but broken is broken. Whether it's cleaning up after yourself, keeping your dog on a leash or using your work email for personal business, the list of transgressions each of us is guilty of is long and varied. Guilty with an explanation perhaps, but guilty none-the-less.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Usually the areas where this happens are more benign than not. We take a call in the quiet car, we have more than 10 items in the checkout lane, we pour out the last of the coffee and don't start a new pot. We know we are doing wrong, and will likely piss off somebody, but the world will not cave in because of our actions. Besides, even if we get flagged, the repercussions are generally minor. Perhaps it is one more death by a thousand cuts for civil society, but we seem to be muddling through just fine even with people sharing their Netflix password.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">In that same vein, as a person who bangs out proposals, overviews and yes, columns, I am conscious of the number of times my word processor flags a segment of my writing in blue, indicating a deviation from the accepted standards. We all learned those rules way back in the Wonder years, when Mrs. Howe or Mr. Jenkins taught them to us: don't split your infinitives, never start a sentence with a conjunction, pronouns and subjects should agree, and on and on. They were codified by unnamed authorities over centuries and passed down through style guides and fifth grade teachers, and whoa to those that used "it's" when they really meant "its."</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">However, as our primary method of written communication has shifted from handwritten missives to electronic hunt-and-peck, the state-of-play is that most of the rules are honored more in the breach than in the following. That doesn't make it "right," just accepted. It's like the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Od6EeCWytZo" target="_blank">Shibuya Crossing in Japan,</a> where, when the light changes, everybody crosses the intersection from every angle. It's a madhouse, but what the hell are you going to do about it?</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">But (oops... there I go) occasionally there is an acknowledgement by the powers that be that recognize the reality of the situation, or at least say that perhaps the emperor doesn't have any clothes after all. Such was the case recently when Merriam-Webster, the oldest dictionary publisher in the United States, and one of the aforementioned keepers of the linguistic canon, posted on Instagram that "It is permissible in English for a preposition to be what you end a sentence with." They point out that the idea came from writers who were trying to align English with Latin, but there was indeed no ironclad rule about it. Mr. Jenkins in his grave is turning over. (See what I did there?)</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">To a very large extent the proper reaction is "so what?" Somewhat echoing the legal spat over originalism vs. textualism, there are indeed rules that guide us in standardizing and formalizing the written word, and we do well to use them as a template. On the other hand, language is a living, breathing thing, and has to adapt as the way we communicate changes, with those changes sometimes being productive, other times less so. It is up the user to wield the tools given to build the appropriate house, and for the consumer to decide whether to live in it or not. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">I, for one, come down squarely on the side of change. If it sounds right, if it makes the point, by all means do it. Ignore that Oxford comma, use that slang, run those sentences on. Weekly you will see those efforts here, and you can decide for yourself their success or failure. While I would never elevate this beyond what it is and classify it as anything more than a weekly rant, I side with Pablo Picasso's edict: "Learn the rules like a pro, so you can break them like an artist." </span></p><p>-END-</p><p><i>Marc Wollin of Bedford tries to write to be read. His column appears weekly via email and online http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/ and https://marcwollin.substack.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.</i></p><div><br /></div>Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-17633328486596152692024-03-09T04:30:00.001-05:002024-03-09T04:30:00.136-05:00An Audience of One<p>This is about your mom. And your kid. And your wife. And me. I love them all, and I've told them so. Wait, wait: before you call the cops, child protective services or my wife, allow me to explain.</p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">When the Motorola DynaTAC 8000x debuted as the first commercial cell phone in 1973, it weighed about three pounds, cost $3,995 (about $12,370 in today's dollars), was the size of loaf of bread and was in limited supply. It enabled you to call untethered from your desk or home, and while that wasn't nothing, that was about it. Much has changed since then, with the price and size plummeting, and the capabilities and availability increasing. Today mobile phones are globally ubiquitous, are almost a thousand times faster than a mid-eighties Cray-2 Supercomputer, and in almost half the world's countries, over 90% of the population own at least one. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Smart phones have advanced so far that many have given up on desktop computers and wired phones of any type. App development for mobile devices has reached the point where the number and sophistication of programs designed to run on that 6" slab of electronics in your pocket matches or outpaces that which is being created for other platforms. And more and more people are cutting their home and office cords. As a result, most people can no more conceive of being separated from their cells than they can from their arms. Hell, you got two of those; you only got one iPhone 15. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">That also means that all those things you used to do in the privacy of your home or office or a quiet space in the corner you can now do, and do do, anywhere. Banking, shopping, researching your next vacation, reading the headlines, and of course, connecting with friends, business associates and family. You can confirm your tee time with buddies while on the train, review that merger agreement while driving to the supermarket, and catch up with your sister while you take a walk.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">The thing, though, is that many of us choose to do these things not only from anywhere but with an audience. Maybe not an intentional one, but a gaggle of onlookers none-the-less. Glance over while commuting home on the bus and you might see someone paying their bills. Look over at the table next to you at lunch and you see someone browsing Amazon for a new toaster. Unless you have super-vision, the itty-bitty screen makes it so you are observing rather than picking up account numbers. But if they are watching adult toy reviews on YouTube, it's hard to un-see that.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">And then there's chatting (and here's where your wife or kid or mom comes into play). More and more, conversations that used to be private are public. It's hard not to listen when the person next to you is yakking away oblivious to the fact that there are others within earshot. Discretion? Privacy? Embarrassment? For some those seem to be antiquated ideas. There seems to be virtually no topic... doctor's appointments, relationship issues, digestion problems... that can't be talked about loudly with spectators.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Most often, however, it's innocent chatter to which you are uninvited yet present. It's not like you are party to the conversation, but it's happening in your orbit. So what is the proper etiquette? Acknowledge it? Ignore it? There is a third tack, which I've been taking recently: participate in it.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">In one case an associate walked over to me while on the phone, seemingly talking with his wife. "Yes, honey, I'll pick you up." He showed me a single finger and mouthed "one minute." He continued: "It's no problem, should be done here in plenty of time." A beat, a nod, another beat." Yup. Look, Gotta go. Safe travels. Love you." To which I quickly chimed in, "Yes honey, safe travels, love you too." He smiled and said into the phone, "And Marc loves you too." There's was a brief retort from her end (Maybe something like "Who the hell is Marc???" or similar), after which he nodded, said goodbye, and hung up. He just looked at me and laughed, and we moved on to business. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">At a break I went to get a cup of coffee. Standing and waiting for my turn at the pot, the guy stirring his cup ahead of me was also on the phone, seeming to talk to a child, "Yes, you can go to Jimmy's, but you have to do your homework first." A nod. "Yes, I'll tell mom, but you have to promise to get it done You can do it, just try." Listen, nod. "OK, I'll see you later. Love you." I couldn't resist: "It's not that hard! Love you too!" The guy looked at me and smiled as he listened back. "See, Marc doesn't think it's hard either." He listened to a similar response as before, and laughed as he hung up, shaking his head. "Thanks," he said, "maybe he'll listen to you."</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Not an hour later I was riding down in an elevator when a young woman got on chatting away via her earbuds. "Yes, mom, I will." Nod, listen. "Sure, when I get home." Listen, nod. "OK, I can do that." Listen. "Yes, love you too." To which I piped up, "Tell mom I love her too." The woman looked at me, smiled and laughed.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">By default I'm a friendly person, and try and behave that way. My wife has taught me by example to be outgoing and connect with people I don't know. Am I being too chummy with strangers? You can decide for yourself. Just stand next to me, and make the call.</span></p><p>-END-</p><p><i>Marc Wollin of Bedford likes to meet new people, anywhere, anytime. His column appears weekly via email and online http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/ and https://marcwollin.substack.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.</i></p><div><br /></div>Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-61459852368803493902024-03-02T04:30:00.001-05:002024-03-02T04:30:00.135-05:00Is That Your Face?<p>The airport drill is familiar to most. Get in the security line. Pull out your boarding pass or call it up on your phone. Fish out your license or passport. Then shuffle forward slowly until you get to the head of the line and are motioned to step up to the desk to be verified. Been there, done that. But more often these days what happens next is the front line in the latest evolutionary change in our lives, the marriage of big data, big brother and big AI.</p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">In an increasing number of airports, it is no longer left to the TSA agent to confirm that your boarding docs match you. Rather, he or she puts your ID into a reader, then motions for you to stand in front of a camera which looks at your face. It uses biometric scanning to match the picture on your government approved ID to your in-real-life in-person mug. If those two can be connected, and that name is in the database for the day, they wave you through. The TSA agent could be blind (no comments, please) and it wouldn't make any difference. The machines got your back, or in this case, face.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">In certain situations it even goes a step further. If you have registered with the Global Entry program and are returning from abroad, or are a TSA Trusted Traveler at certain airports and airlines, you can keep your wallet in your pocket. As you walk up to the camera it automatically compares your features to the picture it has on file. Before you can say "which gate?" they clear you and wave you through. It's still up to the folks manning the scanner to determine that your iPad, Gameboy, phone, associated chargers, cables and spare battery packs are just that, and not capable of being reassembled into an IED, but assuming so, you are deemed not to be a danger to your fellow passengers.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Back in 2013, when Apple introduced a fingerprint scanner as a way of unlocking your phone, it's primary purpose was not so much to secure your mobile bank account (there weren't any), but to stop people from butt dialing their last call. Surveys showed that nearly half of users didn't bother to set a password or PIN to start the process, and so every time they sat down a certain way it called mom. Like many innovations out of Cupertino, it proved so popular that other manufactures adopted it, and by 2021 that method was tied with passwords as a way to lock and unlock your device.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">The method spread outward from our personal devices to other places where security was warranted, be it entry ways or financial institutions. But if anything pushed the ball further down the road it was the pandemic, and the desire to have a system that was contactless, one not requiring you to put your fingers and hands where every other person smudged their own germs. Coinciding with advances in accuracy, computer power and better, cheaper cameras, we went from scanning fingers to faces. No need to rub that French-fry grease from your thumb, you just looked like, well, you usually do. With an accuracy rate of 99%, the same as fingerprints, it was faster, less hassle and just as good. And you could pass the challenge with gloves on.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">There are, of course, privacy concerns, that once the government or a company has your pic on file they can single you out even if you don't want to be. And advances in AI modeling are raising concerns that an "artificial you" could be created that would pass muster and gain entry to your personal world. If you have any doubt about how real a deep fake can be, watch the video of <a href="https://youtu.be/UOf6CMbHPuA?si=VTTb_Uo-AbZTDrGe" target="_blank">Billy Joel's new song</a>, where he appears singing the just-written hit as he looks now, but also as he appeared in the 70's, 80's and 90's. You will do a double take as I did.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">So what's the next step? No way of knowing, but beginning in July of this year the Vietnamese government will begin collecting biometric information from its citizens for identification purposes. It will include iris scans, voice samples and actual DNA. Should they prove unbreakable, one could see other countries adopting similar standards. And so it's not inconceivable that at some point in the future, to prove it's you getting on that Jet Blue Flight to West Palm Beach, you will need to stare into a lens, recite a limerick and produce a urine sample. Don't even ask what it will take to get an exit row.</span></p><p>-END-</p><p><i>Marc Wollin of Bedford was ID'ed returning from London before he even got to the entry kiosk. His column appears weekly via email and online http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/ and https://marcwollin.substack.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.</i></p><div><br /></div>Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-52079151747175511202024-02-24T04:30:00.001-05:002024-02-24T04:30:00.148-05:00Missing Connection<p>As I was going to be away from home on business and there was a major snowstorm in the forecast, my wife wanted to make sure she had all the backups she needed. We long ago put in a generator that covers us when the power goes out, meaning water from our well and lights for our rooms are covered. We had also installed an extender for our mobile phones linked to the internet, as we live in a fringy cell zone. We had plenty of oil in the tank for heat and hot water. And our shelves had lots of food of all types. Other than being prevented from getting out, some bad weather would be more of an inconvenience than anything else. </p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Indeed, when the snow came it proved to be just that. Our usual guy plowed her out, and she shoveled the walks. The power did wink on and off, but never enough for the genny to kick in. We kept in touch and talked about any other adjustments she had to make, the biggest being whether to turn on the wires that line the roof edge so the gutters didn't freeze up. Then I got a text from her that seemed strange: the power had gone on and off, but the phones hadn't come back on. We've had this happen many times, but it always came back after a short spell. I assumed she was being an alarmist. Give it a minute, I wrote back, it'll reset like always. Nope, she wrote back, I know the drill, it has happened before, and this is different. All has been out for more than 15 minutes, well beyond the normal timeframe. Phone is out, TV is out, internet is out. Fifteen long minutes.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">I tapped into our account from my hotel, and had the system run a test. It came up blank: no connection to our system. I tried a few more diagnostics. Dead end. After a few more pings, it appeared that the power fluctuations had fried our system, and a technician would have to come out and repair it. First appointment: two days later.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Like many over the past few years we have slowly linked more and more of our infrastructure to the internet. Our phone lines had long ago migrated from copper wires to IP (internet protocol) systems. Our entertainment, both TV and radio, had gone from rabbit ears and transistor radios to streaming services for video and audio. And of course our connection to what used to be called the World Wide Web had become a daily, if not hourly, if not moment-by-moment source for shopping, communication, business, social interaction... the list goes on. The fiber that ran from the box outside our dining room to the central station was quite literally our link to everything outside our home.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">The good news was that my wife was in no danger. She had heat, water, lights and food. She had books, crossword puzzles and a daily newspaper to read. Once the roads got plowed she was able to go to meetings, stores and other activities. The world kept spinning, and she was still a part of it.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">But as I said, we live in a fringy cell phone area. That meant that when in our house her cell phone, her only connection beyond our four walls, only worked in some parts, while others were dead zones. And not just for streaming or googling or cruising the net, but for calls and texts. Especially at night, when there was no one (namely me) to chat with, if she was in one of those areas, she was as cut off as if she was on a desert island. Nothing to watch, nothing to listen to, no one to talk with. Let me be clear: my wife is very competent and capable. But she will say that you don't know just how dependent you get until you are cut off from it all. And in this case "all" was really "all." </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Thankfully, the tech showed up as scheduled two days later. There was a brief moment of concern when he looked at the system we had and, because of its age, wasn't sure he could fix it. He got on the phone and reached out to some fellow repairmen, and figured out a solution. It took more than an hour, but eventually all was reconnected, tested and working as it should. (Side note: In the "what about me?" department I was VERY happy that HE was indeed needed, and it wasn't something that I could have fixed simply by unplugging a cord and plugging it back in. Then I would have felt even worse that she had to deal with this alone.)</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Yes, we are once again connected, but my wife's experience showed that it is both a blessing and a curse. It enables us to reach far beyond our physical borders with an ease that is unimaginable. But it is a fragile thread that, if severed, isolates us as never before. And unfortunately, not that we want to, there is no putting that genie back in the bottle.</span></p><p>-END-</p><p><i>Marc Wollin of Bedford is trying to figure out backups for his backups. His column appears weekly via email and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/ and https://marcwollin.substack.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.</i></p><p><br /></p>Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-29331812935698392412024-02-17T04:30:00.004-05:002024-02-17T04:30:00.149-05:00What Did You Call Me?<p> Have a kid, and you can name it whatever you want. Bill? Jaden? Bugsy? Cleopatra? No one is going to tell you not to, though some may gently (or perhaps more assertively) prod you if you try for something more creative or more associative or more, well, off the mainstream. One wonders if Mrs. Knowles was told, "Well, sure, Beyoncé SOUNDS cool, but won't the other kids make fun of her? Did you consider Belinda? It starts with 'B' also." Mom held her ground, and the rest is history.</p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Those same concerns don't exist if you name a pet, be it a cat or a goldfish or a lizard. In that case, you can call it anything you want because there's no peer pressure nor downside risk in its development. Whether your pooch is called Spot or Milo or Badger, or your bird is known as Tweety or Buttercup or Hootie, its life will be just fine. No one implies anything from its moniker, and even if they do, who cares?</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">While the same freedom exists for inanimate objects, there is a little more caution. When naming a hurricane, forecasters steer clear of names from prior killer storms. Consumer products, be they cars or phones, are based mostly on marketing considerations, selecting ID's that elicit positive reactions in the given group. A Ford Mustang sounds like it goes fast, and a Samsung Galaxy sounds like it connects you to the world. That said, if you wanted to call the car the Hypermobile or Sally, or the phone the Whizbanger or Tyrone, no one would stop you. You might be laughed at, but that's your problem.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Then there're drugs. It's especially noticeable these days as we are awash in ads for a whole new class of pharmaceuticals that are aimed at weight loss. Unlike other products, the names of those compounds have to follow very strict guidelines. Two different organizations have to weigh in (no pun intended) and approve the names of the underlying generic - the United States Adopted Names (USAN) Council and the World Health Organization (WHO) INN Programme. The goal is that regardless of where someone is located, patients and health care professionals will be able to safely communicate about the medications in question.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">In the process a number of rules must be followed. There must be two syllables in the beginning, so that it's easier to tell one from another. Certain letters have to be avoided, as they don't exist in every alphabet. You also can't use marketing terminology (best, fast, strong) nor medical terms, so that it doesn't imply that a drug is only associated with one condition. All of that cuts out names like SkinnyEstU or Size-4-Ever or WowzaWaist.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Once the cut is made on the generic side, a company can come up with their own brand name to sell under their label. Again they have to factor in intrinsic meaning and linguistics and trademarks. But it's also about market research and focus groups and emotional hooks and connections. They start with hundreds of possibilities and winnow that list down until they have a winner. </span></p><p>With all the restrictions in place, that usually means that the word they come up for a name isn't really a word at all. It's more about onomatopoeia, where the sound of the word itself creates the impression they are trying to achieve. For example, the name of the ED med Viagra is meant to imply virality, while the name of the sleeping pill Restoril is meant to convey restoration. </p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Which makes you wonder about Ozempic and Saxenda and their brethren. Copyrightable? Sure. Conforms to the rules and regulations? Absolutely. But convey positive associations? Questionable at best. At least to me, Mounjaro brings to mind a very big hill in the Alps, not the image one would think of as positive for one looking to decrease their size. Wegovy sounds like a sixties-era psychedelic compound. Some observers have offered up that one of the newest, Zepbound, sounds like an off-brand bus line, a 70's cover band or even an intergalactic pogo stick. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Shakespeare invented numerous words, such as bedroom, invitation and fashionable, which were likely strange to the locals at first, but eventually become commonplace. In that same vein, thermos, velcro and even google were unique when introduced, but have since won widespread acceptance and gone beyond product names to become part of our everyday speech. Only time will tell if after some future Thanksgiving dinner you say, "Wow, I ate too much. Gotta go on an ozempic tomorrow." </span></p><p>-END-</p><p><i>Marc Wollin of Bedford wonders why people in commercials taking prescriptions seem to be having so much fun. His column appears weekly via email and online at substack.com, http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.</i></p><p><br /></p>Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-28245223906907472532024-02-10T04:30:00.002-05:002024-02-11T07:48:07.867-05:00South of the Border<p>When we were looking for a place to escape for a week in January, the suggestions came from all corners. Caribbean! Always nice, but we're not really beach people. Europe! Always interesting, but we wanted some warmth, and were unlikely to find that over there. Florida! Always, uh, what? At the risk of offending too many friends and acquaintances there, let's just move on.</p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Our wish list for a getaway was as it always was. We like to tour, see museums and shops, be able to walk and explore, eat in great restaurants with interesting food, and hopefully do it without too many crowds. Rather than spend most of our time traveling, we enjoy setting up shop in a central place, taking day trips out as opposed to packing up and moving every night or two. And it had to be someplace accessible on our own: nothing against a tour, but we like to plan our own wanderings and set our own schedule as much as we can.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Our kids, who are experienced travelers, had suggested other places they have been that they thought fit the bill. That's how we wound up in Berlin a few years ago, and it didn't disappoint. So when they encouraged us to head to Mexico City, we did some homework. It checked all our boxes, though when we mentioned the possibility to others, the caution flags went up. "Dangerous" some said. "Polluted" was another refrain. And of course "stomach issues" was a not uncommon reaction. We appreciated the feedback and considered it all. But in the end, we waved aside those well-meaning concerns, and booked a flight to Ciudad de México, or as it's known, CDMX. And we were very glad we did.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">More populous than New York, more area than Delhi, more elevation than Denver, Mexico City is a huge sprawling urban landscape with all the trappings of that wherever you are in the world. Depending on where you are standing, it is old and new, dense and spacious, dangerous and safe, serene and exhilarating, exciting and boring, often at the same. As with any city, your impressions are of your own making, and we made the most of it.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">By some counts a city with more museums than Paris, there is art and culture everywhere, if not spread out. The Museo Soumaya is reminiscent of the Guggenheim with a collection that spans continents and centuries, while the National Museum of Anthropology is exhaustive in its showcasing of the Maya and Aztec cultures. There are extensive ruins and breathtaking pyramids, soaring architecture and classic buildings. On a smaller scale are spaces dedicated to the works of such well-known names as Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo, while homes and spaces designed by architect Luis Barragán are intimate and elegant. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Go on a weekend, and the market scene is overwhelming. There are established ones that run every day, but it seems as though Saturday and Sunday multiply those exponentially. Every other street or park has an art show or farmers market or souvenir stand set up. And if you go to neighborhoods like Coyoacán you can walk in and out of stalls and displays for hours on end.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Food? It seems as though there are stalls on every corner. Some are beyond tiny, no more than a basket on a bike. Others are more established with umbrellas and tables. While foreign stomachs should proceed with caution, locals obviously tolerate it better than gringos, as evidenced by the fact that almost every vendor has some customers, and many have lines down the block. That said, when a cart on a street corner in Roma Norte has so many customers and such a reputation that Conde Nast Traveler has a review of "Jenni the Quesadilla Lady," you can probably roll the dice with some confidence. We did and it was delicious.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">While the street food is ubiquitous, the fine dining options are also impressive. With spaces, menus and prices that would be right at home in Brooklyn or Tribeca, these places generally marry other cuisines with Mexican staples and spices. And so you get Entremar with its butterflied snapper painted with red and green chillies, Rosetta with its white mole with fermented carrots, and Meroma with its orecchiette with chillies. The guava pastry at Panadería Rosetta may be as good as any in Paris. And it was my wife who researched the five best ice cream places in town, resulting in stops for the cinnamon roll helado at Casa Morganna, as well as the chocolate mint at Cometa. Twice. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Beyond that, the people were friendly, the weather perfect and landscapes varied. Lots of parks and fountains, so much so that one of our favorite pastimes was just sitting and people watching. In our travels we found one street that looked like a modern business center, another an old colonial town, another a bohemian neighborhood. The Condesa neighborhood where we stayed was green and leafy and filled with people walking dogs, jogging, shopping and eating well into the evening. It was perhaps one of the nicest urban neighborhoods we've ever been in.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Of course, every city has its issues, and CDMX is no exception. But if you treat it with the smarts that come with touring any strange place, you will likely not just be fine, but uncover a few gems as well. When we returned, a friend who was from CDMX asked to see my <a href="https://photos.app.goo.gl/sQTrWv16aUtqYrwD9" target="_blank">pictures</a> and hear the highlights. I shared them, as well some of the places and restaurants we had been it. While he enjoyed it all, his final comment was the most telling, "Thank you for being interested in the best parts of our country and culture... because it's not normally that way!" Most of grew up assimilating a very Euro-centric focus. This was a reminder that there is a very cosmopolitan destination not across the sea, but just south of the border.</span></p><p>-END-</p><p><i>Marc Wollin of Bedford loves to see new places. His column appears weekly via email and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.</i></p><p><br /></p>Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-39832398843278411592024-02-03T04:30:00.000-05:002024-02-03T04:30:00.175-05:00I Am He<p>I have not checked off a box that affirms I am not a robot. I have not picked out which photos contain buses. I have not read and retyped a sequence of squiggly letters. And yet, because of two obscure statistical measures, you can rest assured that this is me. That's because according to an analysis of this writing, and let me quote here so I get it right, "There is a 0% probability this text was entirely written by AI. This text is most likely to be written by a human." And that be me.</p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">One of the great challenges of our times is and will be determining what is real and what is not. It used to be fairly easy, as the underlying systems to generate text, pictures and speech were not that sophisticated, and fakes were obvious. It was like justice and innocence: we presumed it was human generated until proven otherwise. But with the advent of generative artificial intelligence and the popularization and easy access to tools like ChatGPT and Bard, the balance has shifted. While you assume that what you are seeing is real, you now generally look at everything with at least a healthy dose of suspicion.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">The question becomes how to determine what is created by machines versus by people. Researchers are working on ways of validating the end product, enabling viewers to verify that an actual person was the creator, and that what they are presenting is real as opposed to manufactured. For sure that will become more of an issue in the future as the systems get more powerful and the fakes get better. But at least for now, there are a number of "tells" that give away the answer if you are willing to look. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">With pictures, there are several. If you look closely, you will likely see little artifacts: a misshapen ear, an odd arrangement of hair, a strange reflection. That's because the composites are created by taking segments of unrelated images and recombining them, and it's not always so seamless. Backgrounds can be blurry, but so blurry that when you look closely you see they really are not comprised of anything other than shapes and colors. And because real life is filled with imperfections, anything that looks too smooth is likely to be fake, or just a Kardashian.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">With writing there are similar tests. The two markers that pop up used to be obscure statistical measurements, but have been repurposed to tell a real Hemingway from a fake Ernest. The first, called perplexity, is "a measure of uncertainty in the value of a sample from a discrete probability distribution." In plain speak, that means how likely are you to be able to guess the next word in a sentence. A low incidence indicates it might be more machine generated vs by a person. And then there's burstiness, which is defined as "the intermittent increases and decreases in activity or frequency of an event." In terms of writing, it means using or not using a word or term in "bursts." Humans generally do it, machines generally do not. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">For both pictures and words, detection programs exist to help screen for the aforementioned anomalies. Drop an image into AIorNot.com, and it will render a judgment as to real or fake. Run your text through GPTZero, and it will analyze it and give you a thumbs up or down as to machine or human. As an experiment, I ran several recent columns through the program, and got the reported results. It's worth noting that while a number of the metrics it calculated for my stuff were very middle of the road, my burstiness measure, on a scale of 0 to 100, was between 250 and 400. Ain't no machine gonna wield words like this human, for better or worse.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">And so I come to you as flesh and blood, and I have the data to back me up. That said, there is a caveat. Remember the second part of that initial analysis? "This text is most likely to be written by a human." A little hedging going on there. After all, as has been noted elsewhere, the odds of being murdered by a chicken are extremely low, but never zero. So note that qualifier "most likely." However you can rest assured that, like the Beatles sang, I am he. You'll just have to trust me on this one.</span></p><p>-END-</p><p><i>Marc Wollin of Bedford swears he writes every word herein himself. His column appears weekly via email and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.</i></p><div><br /></div>Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-72628993580614249842024-01-27T04:30:00.007-05:002024-01-27T04:30:00.162-05:00Local Demise<p>Ernest Hemingway famously wrote in "The Sun Also Rises" that there are two ways to go bankrupt: gradually, then suddenly. And while the loss is in information as opposed to dollars, it was that second way for our local community, indeed, three different local communities. You may or not be in one of the affected, but if you are reading this in the ether, you have your feet in two worlds, and so the tsunami might have escaped your notice. Actually, tsunami may be too strong a word, as it implies impact over a wide range of territory. Were we talking New York City and its Times, Houston and its Chronicle, or Miami and its Herald, the fallout might indeed be far reaching. But we are talking small communities in New York like Bedford and its Record-Review, Scarsdale and its Inquirer, and the Rivertowns and their Enterprise. And overnight those three weekly community newspapers are no more.</p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">When I asked the editor of one (indeed the home base for this very column) what happened with the publisher of the three papers, he said simply "she ran out of money." He offered no insight beyond that fact. But it's not a difficult concept to grasp. Indeed, anyone who has ever run any commercial venture from a lemonade stand to a multi-national firm gets the drift. Add up the cost of reporters, office space, printing fees and the rest of it, and match that against subscriptions, advertising and newsstand sales. If the second exceeds the first, you make a profit. If it's the other way around, well, demise is eventually going to be the outcome, unless you're the government. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">It is no secret that the press, like many institutions that people used to look up to and depend on, is under attack and stress as never before. To be sure some of it is self-inflicted, where in some cases editorial standards have been bent or sacrificed in pursuit of agendas or profits or speed. Market forces also play a huge part, reshaping the underlying economics in the business models that worked for years but which didn't adapt to the changing media landscape. And in a world where governments and leaders relay their decisions and rationales in bits and bytes, anything over 240 characters long is considered practically book-length, and struggles to find an audience.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">The problem is that the press, and more specifically a local paper, isn't just another grocery store or carwash or dry cleaner in a community. It serves a higher purpose befitting its designation as the fourth estate, offering a window and a billboard, a sounding board and a town square. Like water and power, they have become singular resources that many rely upon for updates on school sports and town meetings and local get-togethers. And while larger towns and cities might have multiple avenues for citizens to get their information, the same cannot be said for many of the places we call home.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">That's why in each of the affected communities there has been an anguished cry from many. As of this writing, while the print editions have been shut down, the online sites are at least functioning as zombies if not being updated with news. That has allowed some users to post comments. One reader: "I would feel disconnected from the community without it. I rely on it, I would be at loose ends without it." Another: "This is awful news. We would be willing to pay over four times the current subscription rate - we get such value out of it, and it is such a critical part of this community." One more: "It's where we turn to the Letters to the Editor section to see what our neighbors are sounding off about, where we get information on new local laws, grants awarded to our towns, decisions made by our school and town boards, and much more." Or the most succinct one: "Please do not allow this community jewel to disappear."</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">In each community some readers and residents are seeking ways to help and keep them going. The publisher has been publicly silent as to the situation, so no telling if there is movement behind the scenes with investors or partnerships, or if it is all just wishful thinking. However, even if you weren't a reader, as an objective matter, the loss is a real one which is one more in the death-by-a-thousand-cuts that helps contribute to the ongoing degradation of neighborly society. It might be too much to invoke the words of John Donne, but you be the judge if this bell tolls not just for others but for each of us. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">In the meantime, astute regular readers of this space might notice that at the top it no longer says "As published in The Record-Review and The Scarsdale Inquirer" because, well, it ain't. That situation might be restored, and I hope it is. However, for all of you who get it electronically, with either thanks or apologies as I continue to invade your space, my parade shall continue. I can only hope that you will continue to come to the curb and watch the show, and if so inclined, occasionally wave back so I know you're out there. </span></p><p>-END-</p><p><i>Marc Wollin of Bedford plans to keep this effort going, if you'll have it. His column appears weekly via email and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.</i></p><p><br /></p>Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-51086915712917875532024-01-20T04:30:00.001-05:002024-01-20T04:30:00.327-05:00Ready, Set, Click<p>Blame ESPN.</p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">In 1979, the then upstart cablecaster went on the air with "SportsCenter" and anchor Leonard Lee saying "If you're a fan, what you'll see in the next minutes, hours, and days to follow may convince you you've gone to sports heaven." In those early days it was not so much heaven, but something a bit lower: their first exclusive sporting event was game one of the World Series in men's professional slow-pitch softball between the Milwaukee Schlitz and the Kentucky Bourbons. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Fast forward to today, and ESPN is no longer a wannabe but one of the major players in sports broadcasting, with rights to NFL, NBA and MLB games. They have a radio arm, a streaming service and 8 US television networks. Far from merely surviving on second tier sports, they carry the NFL's Monday Night Football, finals in professional basketball and hockey, tennis' Australian, Wimbledon and US Open competitions, and The Masters golf tournament. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Whether they created it or merely unearthed it, ESPN's existence is owed to our seemingly insatiable appetite to watch competitive events. And while the network may have moved upscale, that demand has proven to be incredibly wide and resilient, and others have sprung up to carry those up-till-then nearly invisible competitions. And so punch around and you can now watch women's volleyball in Kansas and horse racing in Louisiana, tennis in Hong Kong and martial arts in Wisconsin, bull riding in New York and lacrosse in Philadelphia. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">But even that's not enough to quench the appetite of the viewing public. A multitude of head-to-head battles have been created in what can only be described as "non-traditional" areas. These are arenas where it used to be we recognized and celebrated those who were better than others. but never thought to place them on a field or court. And while that space might not be green or have markings or goals, there are rules and refs, winners and losers.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">For example, you might be guided by stars or ratings to find those chefs that rise above the rest. But if you want to see cooking "battles" there is "Iron Chef" and "The Great British Bakeoff" and "Beat Bobby Flay." You might choose a tour based on its Yelp rating, but never thought of racing from place to place as in "The Amazing Race" or "Expedition Impossible." And who would have believed that an audience would tune in to watch adults battle to the "death" in "Red Light, Green Light" on "Squid Game."</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">It shows no signs of stopping. Had you been watching the CBS Sports Network in December you would have seen the ETC Series. If you're unfamiliar with the league those initials represent, it's not a college or regional grouping. Rather, ETC stands for the Elite Trades Championship, and includes the US Auto Tech National Championship for the best mechanics, the Ideal National Championship for the top electricians, the ServiceTitan HVAC Championship spotlighting outstanding heating and air conditioning techs. And then there's the sump pump of them all, the Plumbing National Championships. There as in the others, play-by-play announcers walk us through the action, and color commentators highlight what is right and wrong: "Well, Joe, is that spanner that right way for Smitty to go?" "Bill, I tell, ya, I've never seen a such a masterful use of a quarter hex drive to tighten up a flange valve. We are seeing greatness here!" </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Perhaps your preferred tool is a mouse as opposed to a monkey wrench. If so, then head to Las Vegas for an eSport competition like no other. Not Fortnite or World of Warcraft, but the Microsoft Excel World Championship. Think you got the stuff? A sample case: "You have been hired as a financial modeling consultant for GreenEnergo (GE), a fictional electric utility company that operates in a fictional country of Bublijan. Your goal is to create a 10-year monthly financial model, forecast the financials, calculate the project's NPV and IRR and determine the required level of state subsidies for the project to be economically feasible for GE." Ready, set, click!</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Whether you call them sports like tennis, boxing or basketball, or competitions like golf, surfing and running, they all have their fans. There is almost nothing that can't be turned into a contest and garner an audience. Downhill skiing or crab racing: the choice is yours.</span></p><p>-END-</p><p><i>Marc Wollin of Bedford rarely cares who wins anything. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.</i></p><div><br /></div>Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-45725586485583272932024-01-13T04:30:00.001-05:002024-01-13T04:30:00.238-05:00Past, Present, Future<p>The wonderful writer Paul Theroux has written nearly 30 novels, some of which have been made into feature films. He has written hundreds of short stories and reviews which have appeared in magazines and book form. But he is probably best known for his travel writing, with more than 20 books and collections covering every corner of the globe, from Mexico ("On the Plain of Snakes") to the Pacific ("The Happy Isles of Oceania") to the Far East ("Sailing Through China").</p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">One that sticks with me is his collection of short essays on wandering called "Sunrise with Seamonsters," and specifically one of the earliest pieces written nearly 60 years ago called "The Cerebral Snapshot." In it he laments how the taking of pictures takes you away from the act of observing the thing you are photographing. He relates a situation he encountered in Africa where he watched a herd of giraffes running while his friend snapped shot after shot. After they were gone, his friend turned to him and said he didn't get a good look at them. Why? Theroux asked. His friend responded, "See, if you take pictures of things, you don't really see them."</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">The proliferation of smart phones with built in cameras has only exacerbated that conundrum. Photography has become easy and accessible to everyone all the time with no need for big and expensive equipment. Theroux presaged what that means: we all take way too many photos as opposed to just looking at the world and absorbing the moment. If you've been to any concert, you can't help but notice the bevy of people who have their phones out recording the event, and not actually watching and listening. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Still, as records of the past pictures have no equal. You need no literary or journalistic skills to capture a moment in time and share it with friends and family. But pictures have gone on beyond being simple articles of record. With tools accessible to everyone, it is now possible to transcend time, showing us not just the past but helping us envision the present, and indeed, see into the future.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Two simple examples.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">For a project I am working on we visited a location just before Christmas. I took many pictures, but every one has wreaths and lights and decorated trees. And while that was certainly an accurate representation on that day in December, it's hard to envision it in the more pristine look we will see in the spring when we return. The venue offered their marketing beauty shots, but they weren't from the angles and vantage points we need. Enter my new phone with its advanced AI toys, including one called "Magic Eraser." Using it, I was able to simply circle or highlight any yuletide decorations, tap a button, and before you could say "Holy Noel, Batman!" the space was denuded of any holiday accoutrements. It appears as it does in its present state, with no need for a return trip to reshoot the pictures.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">As to looking into the future, one of our kids is in the process of fleshing out a new apartment. As he was exploring options for beds, he came across one online that he thought would fit nicely into the space, but wasn't sure. However, on the website was a button labeled "View in Your Space." A tap on it, and the bed appeared "live" in the bedroom as he looked through his phone. He was able to place it where he wanted it, walk around and see how it looked, as well as the clearances to the walls, windows and doors. It enabled him to see beyond today to a future point on the calendar where it was set up, and give him the confidence he was making the right choice.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">If you are a writer, as Theroux said, the best thing you can do is to watch what is in front of you with your eyes and brain, and not capture it on a piece of film. Or as he put it so succinctly, "a picture is worth only a thousand or so words." But if like most you want to not only memorize that vision, but build on it, then perhaps it's better to remember what the great photographer Robert Capa said: "The pictures are there. You just take them."</span></p><p>-END-</p><p><i>Marc Wollin of Bedford likes to write AND take pictures. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.</i></p><div><br /></div>Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-26569932231724160262024-01-06T04:30:00.001-05:002024-01-06T04:30:00.134-05:00Yours or Theirs<p>We have all made a pact with the devil, though of a far more beneficent type than the one in the Bible. In this case he/she/it has no horns or tail but offers us untold capabilities and opportunities at little or even no cost. In return we have to promise to stay faithful (netting us even more chances at convenience and goodies) and keep shoveling more nourishment into the maw that is presented 365 days, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. This we happily and willing do, regardless of warnings from both inside and out. And while there is but one Lucifer that goes by various names, in this case there are various versions of Mephistopheles which offer sinful pleasure in exchange for our souls. Or in this case our data, which these days is practically the same thing.</p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Whatever tribe you belong to (and it can be several at the same time), the deal is the same. Sign up and onto platforms from Microsoft or Apple or Google or Amazon (to name just some of the major serpents) and in return the keys to the world are yours. You are given the opportunity to keep names of friends and family, schedule your daily life, shop for gifts, book travel, listen to music, watch movies – the list goes on. In some cases there's a small fee, though it's usually far less than what those capabilities might fetch on the open market. All they ask is that you permit them to make notes about what you are doing, and use those notes to offer you even more. What a bargain!</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">And in the broader view it is. For sure there are well documented privacy concerns about letting a massive commercial enterprise not just glimpse but stare at your online life. But if you are like 99% of consumers out there, you willingly sign over that right for the ease and capabilities it gives you. After all, we all rationalize, what difference does it make if someone knows where I like to order takeout (Uber Eats) or how often I work out (Strava) or whom I pay on a weekly basis (Venmo)? I've got nothing to hide, my life is basically boring to any outsiders, so look all you want.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">But while that data may be worth more than nothing, most agree you should have at least have control over it. In Europe that was recognized in a formal way with the General Data Protection Regulation put in place in 2018. It includes a number of provisions, including the right of access (so you can see what is being collected), the right to be forgotten (so you can make "them" erase whatever they have on you) and the right of portability (the ability to take that info and do what you want with it). Elsewhere around the world those same rights are generally implied to some extent, though not legally required.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">It came to roost for me when the notetaking app I have used for years changed its pricing structure from free to a monthly fee. In those files were all the miscellaneous flotsam and jetsam of my life, from recipes to column ideas to jokes. And while they were worth nothing to anyone else, there were, if not quite priceless, at least of value in my world. While the service was worth something, I didn't think it was worth as much as they were asking. There were other options, and I wanted out. But while they froze the program and didn't enable me to add anything new unless I ponied up over $100 a year, they did provide a way to export all the contents. It wasn't easy or seamless, but over a number of days I managed to download it all, massage it into usable form, and upload it into another program that wasn't quite as elegant but was at least functional. The bottom line was that it took a few more clicks, but at least my rugelach recipe was safe.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">It's a transactional ledger we keep adding to every time we go online. We gladly give up our online habits in exchange for something of value. Which begs the question: is your info theirs? Or is it yours? Or to repurpose the title of Brian Clark's 1972 play, whose life is it anyway? </span></p><p>-END-</p><p><i>Marc Wollin of Bedford thinks his online habits are pretty bland. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.</i></p><div><br /></div>Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-33876995436692293682023-12-30T04:30:00.001-05:002023-12-30T04:30:00.129-05:00WOTY? <p>Every year at this time arbiters in every genre name their best. Country entertainer? The Academy of Country Music gave the honor to Lainey Wilson. Book? Barnes & Noble plucked "The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store" off their bedside table. And on a smaller, though arguably more competitive stage, Dave Campbell's Texas Football website singled out DJ Lagway, the quarterback of the Willis High School Wildcats, as "Mr.Texas."</p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">While the above look back and honor the standouts from the past twelve months, there are others that look forward, prognosticating those that will rise about the horizon. In SUV's, Motor Trend sees the Chevrolet Blazer EV as the car to have in 2024. American Girl named gymnast and horseback rider Lila Monetti as the "IT" girl doll of next year. And Pantone, the arbiter of all things color related, said the "Peach Fuzz" will rule the next calendar cycle, with one style critic noting that perhaps it is hoping to rachet down the rhetoric, and make 2024 a time "not for bold decisions, but for communicating a sort of vague pleasantness."</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">One of the most eagerly awaited pronouncements came from the Oxford Dictionary, and their Word of the Year, sometimes referred to as WOTY. Every year they choose a word that is "judged to reflect the ethos, mood, or preoccupations of that particular year and to have lasting potential as a word of cultural significance." As the dictionary that many consider to be the most historically authoritative, it carries a certain amount of gravitas. And so it was a bit of surprise that rather than go with one of the other finalists including "Swiftie" (an enthusiastic fan of Taylor Swift), "situationship" (a romantic or sexual relationship that is not considered to be formal or established) or "prompt" (an instruction given to an artificial intelligence program, algorithm, etc., which determines or influences the content it generates) the winner was "rizz."</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">A noun defined as "style, charm or attractiveness, or the ability to attract a romantic or sexual partner," it is taken from the middle part of its parent "charisma." They note it's an usual way of forming a new word, though not unheard of, with other examples being "fridge" (refrigerator) and "flu" (influenza). As with many new ways of speaking, it was driven mainly in usage by a younger generation, personified by 27-year old actor Tom Holland ("Spider-Man" in three movies) who, when asked about his fame, answered "I have no rizz whatsoever, I have limited rizz."</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">The selection is not without its challengers. Dictionary.com went with "hallucinate," as in when chatbots produce false information as truth. Merriam-Webster chose "authentic" with the publication noting that it was not so much a new usage as the constant questioning of what really makes something – cuisine, voice, style, – authentic. And Collins went with two initials with no punctuation which have become the buzzword of technology and which some see as the next inflection point in everything around us, "AI."</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">And then there are those who have a stake in the matter. Food giant Kraft rolled out a marketing campaign pushing their Kraft Real Mayo product. Its central premise was to make "Moist" the WOTY. In a press release they said "Kraft Real Mayo is proof -everything is better ‘Moist.' Sadly, the internet hasn't always agreed. That's why we're hacking the Word of the Year competition by searching ‘Moist' as many times as possible, to redeem this polarizing-yet-velvety-smooth word." Thankfully, their pleas fell on dry ears.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Of course, all of those terms are English-centric, be they British or American. But it's a big world, and other regions and languages keyed into other trends and expressions. In a closely watched event in Kyoto, Japan, the top Buddhist monk at the Kiyomizu Temple used a brush to write the kanji character of the year on the temple balcony. It was "Zei" which translates as "taxes," reflecting a national interest in the country's economic situation. In Australia, some promoted "password child" as the winner, which refers to the kid seen as favored over his or her siblings because their name is used in the parents' passwords. And in Taiwan there is "Shan Dao Hou Zi" which translates as "Mountain Roadmonkey," referring to a motorcyclist who becomes an influencer. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">To be sure any choice is subjective, regardless of the field. Whether it's music or sports, food or fashion, one person's standout is another's also-ran. But no matter what word atlas you favor, with all that is happening in the world it would be hard to argue with the top dog in France. There, teens have adopted a catch-all answer in response to the question of "Quoi?" or "What?" When asked, the word most often on people's lips these days is "Quoicoubeh." While its etymology is in question, there's no mistaking its meaning: "Who knows?"</span></p><p>-END-</p><p><i>Marc Wollin of Bedford likes to learn new words, on a more than yearly basis. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.</i></p><div><br /></div>Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-61542325720755398812023-12-21T04:30:00.000-05:002023-12-21T04:30:00.247-05:00What Just Happened<div>No, it's NOT Saturday morning for those who follow along</div><div>You might be confused, but, no, you're not wrong</div><div>But before you bolt for the exits to rest and recharge</div><div>Thought we'd glance back together, review by and large</div><div><br /></div><div>For it seems ever faster the pages get turned</div><div>And snap! It's all over, or so we have learned</div><div>There were highs, there were lows, strange things and weird </div><div>Another year has gone by, the calendar cleared</div><br />Some things felt real good, many others did not<br />Before we jump to the next, let's consider the pot<br />The stew we all swam in, the things we did taste<br />Some we wish we could savor, others spit out in haste<br /><br />The Bill's Hamlin heart stopped, a miracle came from that dread<br />While it took 15 tries for McCarthy to come back from the dead<br />A spy balloon got punctured, some banks popped as well<br />Trump again broke the record, 91 charges rung the bell<br /><br />The writers - they struck, the actors did too<br />Fires raced through Lahaina, Hunter's problems just grew<br />And as if Russia and Ukraine didn't create enough of a wedge<br />Hamas, Israel and Gaza put the world even more on the edge<br /><br />A sub went to the bottom, a freight train derailed<br />Fires up north made it so you couldn't inhale<br />And in tragedies less weighty, both worthy of skits<br />George Santos imploded, Bud Light took a hit<br /><br />But all was not bad: Barbie set the world on pink<br />With a lighter shade of the same, Messi's Miami did blink<br />Spain's ladies won FIFA, Charles finally crowned King <br />Taylor showed how it's done, her tour was THE thing<br /><br />If a buzz word did dominate it was just 2 letters: AI<br />Whether Chat or with Bard the expectations are high<br />Almost nothing untouched: text, pictures and sound<br />How we shop, how we learn, the potential unbound<br /><br />As always some models, their time came to an end.<br />They lived life to the fullest, they helped set the trend<br />Tina Turner, Roslyn Carter, women who showed how it's done<br />Tony Bennett, Matthew Perry, Jimmy Buffet, just some <br /><br />So much more has happened, too much for this space<br />Next year looks to be crazy, blame the presidential race<br />They'll be conflicts and tragedies, even more from the fringe<br />Adding insult to indignity, it's tempting to cringe<br /><br />But hope lives eternal, it's trite but it's true<br />And all we can do is the best we can do<br />It starts with ourselves and how we reach out to others<br />And treat all those around us as sisters and brothers<br /><br />So as we look to the new year, try a smile to start<br />And resolve to do better, to lead with your heart<br />So thanks here for reading, and as we open a new door<br />Peace, Love and Happiness and a hopeful ‘24<br /><br />-END-<br /><i><br />Marc Wollin of Bedford thanks all for spending some time in this space. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.<br /></i><br />Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-12870233344752336412023-12-16T04:30:00.001-05:002023-12-16T04:30:00.131-05:00Almost Drowned<p>I saw my whole life pass before my eyes. All the people I knew: gone. All the plans I had for the future: gone. All the photographic memories I had of people and places near and dear to me: gone. And all because I dropped my phone in the toilet.</p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">I had just landed on the second stop on a two-city work tour and went to use the restroom. If you've been in a public restroom (and I'm sure you have) you know that the stalls are not exactly large. Add to that a rolling suitcase, a backpack and a coat, and you need to be a contortionist to get all inside. I managed to get in, but now had to get out. However, the door was jammed. I yanked on it, and it popped open, throwing me off balance. And that's when I heard the sickening sound of electronics falling into water.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Studies show that some 25% of people have dropped their phone into liquid (toilets, pools, sinks, etc.), so the protocol is fairly-well known. Turn it off and shake off any excess moisture. Open it if possible and remove batteries and any other parts. Shake it some more, then use tissues to wipe out any drops. A coolish hair dryer can also help. And if you can, bury it in rice to suck out the moisture. Praying also helps.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">I immediately started that last one first. (Actually I cursed, then reversed course.) In a flash I reached down and pulled it out and shook it off as quick as I could. I flew to the sinks hoping there was a hand dryer with hot air. Alas, paper towels was the best I could do. I grabbed a bunch, swaddled it tightly and hustled out to find a quiet seat where I could perform electronic CPR.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">I peeled off the protective case and wiped it down. Coincidentally and unfortunately at the same time, I had just ordered a new phone because I noticed that the back of this one was splitting open due to a swelling battery. That also meant that what was once fairly-well sealed was not anymore. The entire side was open, enabling the dunk to coat all the innards. I pried the back open further and started vigorously shaking it. I think those waiting for a nearby flight to Cleveland thought I was having a seizure.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">I was able to slip some towels in the open back. Seeing as how it was already broken I pulled it up further, cracking it but exposing more. I continued to shake, and blew gently across it. I had no rice, so this seemed the extent of my toolbelt. I pressed the power button, but the screen remained black. I started to contemplate my future.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">By now it's a fact of life that our phones are our lifelines. They contain everything we need on a daily basis. And that's even more true when you're on the road. I wasn't sure what hotel I was going to, what time I was supposed to meet anyone, even how I would get there. All the keys to my world were tied up in a six-inch slab of plastic, metal and components. I started to contemplate my next steps: getting cash, a regular cab, finding a phone store to rejoin the living.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">But then my watch vibrated with a new email. As it was connected to the phone, that could only mean that they were talking. Which also meant that while the screen was blank, the brains must be OK. I shook some more, blew some more and pressed buttons some more. A flicker: the screen flashed on, the off. That meant it was functional, even if it wasn't functioning. Maybe it just needed some time to recover. I repeated each of the steps, adding some encouragement ("C'mon, c'mon, you can do it!") And then some 30 minutes later, like a cat shaking itself off after a fall, it flickered to life. I tentatively pressed a few buttons. It all seemed to work. I might just have escaped, cracked back excepted.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">As I said, a new phone is on the way, and I will certainly make sure it is secured the next time I enter a restroom. But accidents do happen, and you do the best you can. I'm just wondering if I need to add some Uncle Ben's to my traveling kit.<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></p><p>-END-</p><p><i>Marc Wollin of Bedford is usually pretty careful. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.</i></p><div><br /></div>Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-17738015243747962292023-12-09T04:30:00.001-05:002023-12-09T04:30:00.253-05:00Too Much Is Not Enough<p>Food. Clothes. Alcohol Those are just some things that consumed in moderation are fine. But they also have the possibility of being indulged to the point of abuse, though some are more troubling than others. A glass or two of wine is fine, but if you're doing a bottle or more in a sitting by yourself you might have a problem. On the other hand, you may have a thing about buying shoes, but if you have the closet space and the financial wherewithal to pull an Imelda Marcos, it's only a problem if your spouse objects. </p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Our modern world has offered up even more opportunities to overdo it. Up until 50 years ago you couldn't abuse video games or social media because they didn't exist. Now both are part of the daily routine for large swaths of the population. And while most indulge their interest a little less at some times, a little more at others, there is a subset of the populace who are so locked into screens that they are unable to look up for fear they might miss something.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">In and of themselves, these electronic items aren't inherently addictive in the way of nicotine or opioids. That said, there is research indicating that the dopamine burst you get from scrolling Instagram, Snapchat or Facebook can suck you in as much as a hit of cocaine. Still, the generally accepted belief is that with each of these hooks it is up to the individual to decide how much is too much. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">And then we have television. Back in the day TV shows were doled out by the networks a week at a time. No matter how much you wanted to know what Fonzie would do next ("Happy Days"), or if JR was going to cheat again on Sue Ellen ("Dallas"), you could consume only so much. After your allotted and scheduled 30 or 60 minute dose, you were forced to go cold turkey until the next week. It didn't matter how much money you had or who you knew, nothing was going to tip you off as to what Crocket and Tubbs were going to wear next ("Miami Vice").</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Then came 2013, and Netflix dropped an entire season of "House of Cards" in one go. While some traditionalists watched an episode and then changed the channel to "Brooklyn Nine-Nine," many stuck around and clicked right into episode 2. Still more welshed on their dinner plans and settled in for episode 3. And a number of true diehards put some cereal on the counter for the kids in the morning, moved back their early tee time, and stayed up all night (spoiler alert!) to see Frank Underwood accept the nomination for Vice President some 13 hours later. Or as producer Beau Willimon said, "Our goal was to shut down a portion of America for a whole day."</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">While it took two years for "binge-watch" to be named a word-of-the-year, it was a habit that quickly became ingrained in the populace as other streaming services followed suit. The so called "episode dump" became a normal way of releasing shows as practiced by Amazon, Hulu and others. And even if it wasn't a new show, the behavior took root in that people shotgunned one episode right into another and another of a program they latched onto, devouring 5 or 8 or 10 installments at a single sitting.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">But then these same distributors realized that they were blowing their multi-million-dollar investments in a single puff of popcorn. More than one person took a trial subscription, binged on a season of "Orange is the New Black" or "Stranger Things," then cancelled. And so the hybrid release was born. They might post a few episodes of a show to reel you in, then go back to weekly releases to string you along. It's hard not to liken the practice to a heroin dealer giving out a free hit, then hooking their customer for life. Or till the season-ending cliffhanger, whichever comes first.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Yes, you know you are being played, but you can't avoid it. Still, compared to other binges and addictions, this one is relatively harmless. It only takes your time, and while that's not nothing, for most it is manageable. Now if you could only say the same about ordering from Amazon, you might get your life back.</span></p><p>-END-</p><p><i>Marc Wollin of Bedford doesn't binge watch anything. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.</i></p><div><br /></div>Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-44019121446887277852023-12-02T04:30:00.001-05:002023-12-02T04:30:00.140-05:00Lessons Learned<p>It was Sunday morning on a visit to our youngest son and his wife, and he and I were driving to get fresh cider donuts for breakfast. On the way we chatted about the upgrades to their house, their life in their new location and other non-essential topics. Once we got to the farm we picked up a dozen assorted (plain, glazed and sugar-cinnamon dusted) and a half a gallon of milk. He swiped his card and we got back in the car to drive back to his house. The roads were quiet, and the windows open. And then he dropped it on me. "I know you taught me otherwise," he started. Not sure where this was going, I braced myself. He continued: "I don't keep the receipts. I do scan our statement and check that all looks correct. But I don't keep the receipts."</p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Wow. Kids today.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">If you're a parent, you spend a lot of time teaching, imparting, demonstrating, modeling the behaviors and skills you hope will stand your kids in good stead as they go forward. Some are overt, such as tying your shoes or telling time. Others are much softer, such as the way you treat other people or deal with a problem. Of course, the most important thing you hopefully taught them was to think for themselves. They should look at the options and evidence at hand, use the good sense they have combined with the guiding principles you have taught them, and then make a decision which is in the best interests of themselves and the people around them. In probably more cases than not, that probably aligns with what you would do if you were them. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">But as they settle into their own lives, they likely come up against some very minor tenets you hold dear but which in truth were perhaps fickle, obsessive-compulsive or just plain random. Some are based on the different approaches of a mate or partner. Some are driven by technology and time. And some are just personal choices that they look at and wonder "Why the hell did mom always do X?" </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Indeed, I can think of two examples from personal experience. One ticks the board for me, one for them. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">In the first case, my father taught me to always back into a parking space, a procedure I taught both our boys. And in fact, research shows far more accidents occur when backing out of a space as opposed to driving out forward. (Don't think he knew that, but no matter: thanks, Dad). On the flip side, when we visit their homes or they come to ours, they immediately take off their shoes, something we never did nor do. In this case research supports their approach not ours: it keeps the street grime and germs from being tracked around the home. That said, be it generational or otherwise, it's a practice that hasn't filtered up. Or as an Op-Ed in the Wall Street Journal put it, unless our footwear is covered in "snow, mud, blood, condiments of any sort, lava, excrement, concrete dust, or biomedical hazardous waste" we typically leave them on if given a choice. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">There's an old story of a young woman whose mother taught her the "right" way to cook a chicken was to cut off the wings and legs and cook them separately. It was a method she swore by, passed on down to her from her mother when she learned to cook. One day the young woman thought to ask her grandmother how she came to settle on that approach as the best way to make a bird. Her old woman smiled and said the reason was simple: when she first got married, she only had one small pot. The only way a chicken would fit in it was if she trimmed it first. It worked, so she just kept doing it, and taught it to her daughter. And so a family tradition was born.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Maybe it's the way you make coffee. Or how you organize your kitchen. Or how you pack for a vacation, arrange your closet or hang a picture. The way you do it is absolutely the best. Until it isn't. You should only hope that when it counts and your kids become the teacher, you're smart enough to learn the lesson.</span></p><p>-END-</p><p><i>Marc Wollin of Bedford tries to keep an open mind. Except for shoes. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.</i></p><div><br /></div>Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-65285140939572876702023-11-25T04:30:00.003-05:002023-11-25T04:30:00.145-05:00Not So Secure<p>Thanks to Vladimir Levenshtein and the ZXCVBN algorithm, I only score a 72. </p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">I try, I really do. When I sign into a new website or get prompted by an old one that my password is out of date, I try really hard to come up with something new and unique. Since I use a password manager to remember all my entries, my criteria has less to do about remembering those strings in my head, and more about manual entry. After all, while the software stores them and spits them back automatically when needed, I often have to input them myself on the go. And so my guiding principle isn't trying to remember some unwieldy sequence, but how easy it is to type. I have to hunt and peck "H%8;aw#_h!", but can bang out lOvE2eAtPeanuts! like a champion touch typist.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">However, hard as it is to believe, hackers and their tools are smarter than me. According to a recent appraisal of my passwords, my score is firmly in "C" territory. True, it is better than some, while worse than others. But that is scarce comfort, considering that while I thought I was outsmarting would-be thieves with cute ditties I was doing no better than little Billy in the third row.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">To be fair, some of that was not my doing. Your password health is made up of three factors with the first being compromised web sites. Since the first computer virus known as Creeper was discovered in the early 1970s, the speed of hacks has increased at warp speed. Now, 30,000 new websites on average are hacked every day, with over 53% of US citizens affected by cyber-attacks in 2022. According to IT Governance, a data protection company, there have been 953 incidents this year so far. In those incidents over 5.3 billion records have been exposed, with a single one related to the cyber security firm Darkbeam suffering a breach of over 3.8 billion records alone. So yes, there's a reasonable chance that someone has your info besides your spouse.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">But in the areas I do control, according to the aforementioned metrics, it seems I'm not doing so good either. While I think I'm being clever, creating various passwords which to me are unique, Vladimir says otherwise. Named for a Soviet mathematician, the Levenshtein Distance between two words is the number of single-character edits required to change one word into the other. For instance to make "kitten" into "sitting" substitute "s" for "k", "i" for "e" and add a "g". That's' a score of 3, and to data scientists (and hackers) it means those two words are practically the same. And an analysis of my passwords finds lots of those close cousins.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Then there's the unpronounceable ZXCVBN score. It assigns a number to passwords based on how guessable they are. And since humans generally pick patterns they can remember, and therefore easy to predict, it's easy for a computer to do the same and figure them out. Think about how your phone prefills your Google search, or the next word when you are writing an email. Same idea here: a score of two or less means it's easy to suss out, as it would take less than a million guesses to nail it. That's a walk in the park for a computer. And yup, I'm guilty of that as well.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Put it all together and you get my middling score of 72. As I said, worse than some but certainly better than others, like those whose passwords routinely make the list of the most common ones. In 2023, number one was 123456, with 123456789 close behind. Rounding out the top five were querty, password and 12345. Is it any wonder that estimates of a cyberattack every 44 seconds leads to more than 800,000 people being hacked a year? </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">But as the old saying goes, you don't have to be faster than the bear chasing you, just faster than the person you're running next to. And so if you make it harder or more time-consuming to be broken, the thieves will give up and move on to easier prey. So I guess I will go back to the vault and see if I can add a few special characters here, pick a strange combination there. It might be the only time in my life where my intentional misspellings rate an "A."</span></p><p>-END-</p><p><i>Marc Wollin of Bedford thought he was more secure. Guess not. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.</i></p><div><br /></div>Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-85005040049904404302023-11-18T04:30:00.002-05:002023-11-18T04:30:00.146-05:00Maestro Matt<p>While it's more than you can count on one hand or two, the fraternity of individuals who have conducted at Carnegie Hall is relatively small. As one of the most famous musical venues in the world, only the best get to perform there. Fewer still get step to the podium and command those arrayed before them.</p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">While Matt Muller studied at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama and plays drums, he built his career on the other side of the curtain. Starting off in North London, he learned the ropes backstage, eventually becoming a Stage Manager. His skills have taken him to numerous theatres and studios, including BBC dramas with such notables as Judi Dench, Ian McKellen and Ralph Feinnes. He also has traveled the world managing various theatrical tours, and has worked business conferences where he helped shepherd CEO's and rock stars around the stage.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Still, all of that is decidedly out of public view. He did have one brush with fame, but it was due not to his talents but his daughter's. Mae Muller is a singer songwriter on the pop music scene, racking up top 40 hits as well as being selected as the UK entry in the 2023 Eurovision Song Contest. Earlier this year, she was playing Kentish Town Forum in North London. As she told the crowd, her dad was her biggest supporter and fan, and she wanted to pay him back just a little for his belief in her. So she invited him on stage to play drums with the band, a one song gig for him in front of an adoring crowd.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Still, that was a supporting roll, and while that venue is well known, it hardly carries the gravitas of Carnegie Hall. That's not to say that Matt isn't familiar with world class venues. For the last 7 years he has served as stage manager for the Monteverdi Choir & Orchestras. This set of ensembles is made up of top-flight musicians specializing in historically inspired projects across a variety of repertoires, including sacred music, semi-staged operas and chamber works.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">This year they had performances at top opera houses and halls in La Cote St Andre, Salzburg, Versailles, Berlin and London, after which they embarked on a North American tour. That excursion took them to Chicago, Ottawa, Princeton and New York City, with a performance at Carnegie. As always, Matt was charged with getting the ensemble's orchestra and singers set up and staged for rehearsals, then managing their performance from backstage.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">The New York leg of the tour corresponded with his wife Caroline's birthday, but she was home in England. On that day Associate Conductor Dinis Sousa was putting the group through its paces, rehearsing them for the evening. The UK-based Portuguese conductor has the kind of pedigree you expect of someone on a stage of this magnitude. In addition to the Monteverdi ensembles, he has worked with other esteemed orchestras including the London Symphony Orchestra and the Berliner Philharmoniker.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Being a valued and well-known member of the team, Matt thought he might call in a small favor. He went to Maestro Sousa, pointed out the significance of the date, and asked if perhaps the ensemble might sing "Happy Birthday" to his wife as a surprise while he recorded it to play for her when he got home. The maestro went one better: he asked if Matt wanted to conduct it. As Matt put it, "Er, conduct the Monteverdi Choir and English Baroque Soloists at Carnegie Hall in New York? Hold my beer." </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Matt took the baton and stepped to the podium. With a flourish befitting Bernstein or Toscanini, he led the orchestra and choir in a spirited performance of the classic. In pics of his debut that a friend took you can't help but see the twinkle in his eye as he waves his arms for all he is worth, performing perhaps the finest rendition of the classic ever heard on the Carnegie Hall stage.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">There's an old joke about the guy at the circus who sweeps up after the elephants. A spectator notes what a horrible job it is, and asks why doesn't he quit. "What?" he says. "And give up show business?" Matt's job backstage is far from pachyderm cleanup. But now he can add a new title beyond the supporting ones of stage and production manager to his show business resume: Maestro.</span></p><p>-END-</p><p><i>Marc Wollin of Bedford loves being backstage. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.</i></p><div><br /></div>Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-16886853963379429832023-11-11T04:30:00.002-05:002023-11-11T04:30:00.148-05:00Music From the Machine<p>The ghost in the machine of the moment is artificial intelligence, most notably as it is applied to text to create human sounding responses. Best exemplified by ChatGPT, the idea is that computers sift through millions of samples of man-made writings and learn to mimic it when prompted. Ask the system how to build a bench or an itinerary for a vacation in Mexico, and rather than get a list of websites you get a dissertation that seems as though it came from a carpenter or a world traveler.</p><p>While the initial efforts were focused on words, it didn't take long for developers to widen their focus. The next iteration involved pictures. It was the same idea: scour the internet for images of anything and everything, then use those examples to create new images that mimic real ones. So type "dog with a bone on Mars in the style of Dali" into DreamStudio or Midjourney, and you'll get a picture that looks as if Salvatore was taking his pooch for a walk on the red planet.</p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">These image generators are also why the alarm bells are ringing over the creation of so called "deepfakes." While you can easily type in "picture of fruit floating in water in the style of Picasso" it's just as easy to enter "picture of Joe Biden at a bar doing shots as if taken by a paparazzi." At this point the result might not be perfect or fool anyone, but as the systems get better it will be harder and harder to tell the fakes from the real.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">The latest frontier is with sound. We're already seeing it with voice samples: in New York City they're using artificial intelligence to reach city residents through robocalls in a number of languages. But it's not just a random foreign speaker. They took Mayor Eric Adams' voice, sampled it and recreated it with him speaking in different tongues. So depending on your location in the five boros you might hear Hizzoner in Spanish, Yiddish or Mandarin, none which he actually speaks.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">On the melodic side they are using the same approach as ChatGPT, just with music. The developers set their systems to scrape millions and millions of samples of songs available online, from classical to jazz, from pop to rock, from rap to country. They deliberately do not associate the songs with groups or artists for copyright reasons, but rather with a specific genre. And once they have that database, the building begins.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">The process is the same as with pictures or text: describe some kind of music, press a button, and sit back to watch the machines build you a riff. Type "meditative song, calming and soothing, with flutes and guitars" into <a href="https://google-research.github.io/seanet/musiclm/examples/" target="_blank">Google's MusicLM program</a>. The computer thinks for a bit, and out comes a 20 second or so track that sounds like it could be from a group like We Dream of Eden or Phil France. Or try "up-tempo jazz that you can dance to in a smooth style" and out comes a Kenny G-esque sample. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">At this point the tracks sound artificial and half formed. But it's important to understand that what you are hearing are not samples of music that fit your description, but rather newly composed tunes never played nor heard by anyone anywhere. It's only a matter of time before the programs improve to the point that when you type in "danceable power pop that has positive vibe as if sung by a former Disney princess" what comes out sounds like the backing track to a Demi Lovato top ten hit.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">If you're counting, that's words, pictures and sound that can be created by computers and passed off convincingly as crafted by flesh and blood humans. That leaves touch, smell and taste as the last frontiers for machine generated senses. One wonders if in some garage somewhere there is a tech toying around with his computer connected not to a keyboard, brush or instrument, but to a refrigerator and an oven, and typing in "hot food that blends tomatoes, cheese and spices in an irresistible package similar to but not as greasy as pizza." I bet we'll be eating the result before the end of the decade.</span></p><p>-END- </p><p><i>Marc Wollin of Bedford has tried creating computer columns, photos and songs. None are that good. Yet. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.</i></p><div><br /></div>Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-38069300044240069172023-11-04T04:30:00.001-04:002023-11-04T04:30:00.144-04:00Jumping the Croc<p>Up until 2007, if you wanted to listen to music you plugged your headphones into an MP3 player. If you wanted to reach someone you called their flip phone. And if you wanted to look for a flight you waited until you got to your desk and pulled up a Yahoo! Travel search page. It took the genius of Steve Jobs and Apple to smoosh all those capabilities and more into a single device that you could not only carry in your pocket, but looked good to boot. And the world has not been the same since.</p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Combining two or more things successfully into a new winning pairing is tough, though easier in some fields than others. With food there are multiple examples: spaghetti and meatballs, rum and Coke, chocolate and peanut butter. Some twofers are outside of the mainstream but still have found a following, like olive oil ice cream, or chicken and waffles. And still others try for a toehold but never really land. Some say the combination of Pepsi and milk or "Pilk" tastes like a melted ice cream float. Others say it just tastes like, well, pilk.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">The one other area where that kind of invention works is fashion. In fact, the very essence of that field is to take existing garments and styles and combine them in new and interesting ways. As with edibles, there are some examples which might have seemed revolutionary at first but now are as classic as a blazer. Witness the whole athleisure trend, whereby items worn for sports have been retailored and restyled to be donned every day in almost every situation. Or hybrids such as the shacket (jacket and shirt), jeggings (jeans and leggings) or the relatively new coatigan (coat and cardigan) have each found a following. In each case two disparate items or looks were bolted onto one another, run through a blender and emerged as a distinctly unique item, at first scorned and derided, and later accepted as part of the fashion canon.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Occasional individual brands try and do the same thing, taking their signature attributes and grafting them onto line extensions. Ugg used to be a generic term for a rough looking sheepskin boot from Australia before it became a global footwear powerhouse. Not content to rest on its cushy wintertime soles, there are now Ugg slippers and sandals in various materials, heights and styles. The same goes for Burberry or Coach. While their origin was in a very specific item, now you can get that name and look on a not just a scarf or handbag, but on a hat or pair of kicks, neither of which leaves any doubt as to its original pedigree.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">And then there's Crocs. Founded in 2002 as a floatable shoe for water-based activities, the brand has grown to become a consumer darling. These days you can get the classic clog-styled closed-cell foam shoe in a myriad of colors and variations. There's the open-toed sandal version like the Mega Crush, or a wedge like the Brooklyn Tortoise. Each tweaks the original design while retaining the basic anatomy of the brand to give you footwear more appropriate for other activities.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">But in what might be a Croc too far comes a special release as part of the company's "Croctober" promotion. While there are boot versions of the original, they are shorties which seem like they might make sense on a rainy day. Not so much for this latest frankenfootie. For the low price of $120 you can purchase the limited edition <a href="https://www.crocs.com/p/crocs-classic-cowboy-boot/208695.html?cgid=men-footwear&cid=001#start=1" target="_blank">Classic Crocs Cowboy Boot</a>, which "features a signature Crocskin texture, metallic disco desert embroidery details, and a spinning spur on the back so you can really kick up some dirt." One reviewer described them as "love child of John Wayne and the marshmallow man from Ghostbusters. They're so confused about their identity that they've become the fashion equivalent of an existential crisis."</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">In a 1977 episode of the sitcom "Happy Days," the Fonz jumps over a live shark on water skis. It was taken as a sign that the series was trying too hard to attract attention, a condition thereafter referred to as "jumping the shark." Has the shoe company tried a little too hard and jumped the Croc? Your call, but perhaps other footwear is in order if you are going to Texas.</span></p><p>-END-</p><p><i>Marc Wollin of Bedford does not own any pair of Crocs. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.</i></p>Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-16646300325329915192023-10-28T04:30:00.001-04:002023-10-28T04:30:00.254-04:00Hot, Hotter, Hottest<p>While he certainly didn't invent Cajun and creole cooking, few chefs have done as much to popularize those cuisines as Emeril Lagasse. Despite being born in Massachusetts, he is as much associated with the flavors of New Orleans as Mardi Gras and the French Quarter. No "hint of this" or a "touch of that", the spices used there are decidedly in-your-face. Nothing exemplifies that more than his catch phrase as he cooks, where throws a little more spice into the dish while putting up his arms and yelling "Bam!" </p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">When asked what was in that "Bam!" he described a secret blend called "Essence of Emeril." Not really a secret, as you can buy it by the jar at your local grocery store, it is a combination of salt, paprika, spices, garlic, onion and black pepper. "Being me, I always kicked it up a notch, which means I would always elevate the spice level or the complexity of a particular dish. So, it was always like we're going to kick this up a little bit."</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">It's also true that one man's heat is another man's merely smoldering. To really raise the intensity many turn to other preparations such as Tabasco or Frank's. Indeed, an entire subcategory of condiments exist under the heading of pepper-based hot sauces. There you can find an almost endless variety from mild to downright incendiary. But while the low end might be a matter of taste, as you rise up the scale it becomes an objective measure of intensity. Back in 1912, pharmacologist William Scoville developed a system used to this day, wherein he dissolved a pepper in alcohol, then diluted it with sugar water. The result was given to five trained tasters in decreasing concentration, until at least three could no longer detect any heat. How many times it had to be diluted times 100 translated into the eponymous Scoville unit. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">So you start with bell and banana peppers that have no heat, and clock in at zero Scoville Heat Units or SHU. At the other end of the scale is the pure form of capsaicin, the active chemical in peppers that causes the sensation of heat in mammals (birds don't feel it). It registers at 16 million SHU. Along the way you have jalapenos which rate between 2500 and 8000 SHU, and serranos at 10,000 SHU. Higher up the scale are Bird's Eye Chilis, which are found in Thai and Indonesian cuisine and run to 100,000 SHU, and Habaneros in Mexican and West Indian food at 150,000 SHU. Beyond that it's less about adding flavor or bite, and more about adding pain.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Aficionados (also know as masochists) have tried for years to see just how hot they can go. Up until this month that meant the Carolina Reaper pepper. Developed by Ed Currie of South Carolina in 2013, the Reaper held the world's record for the hottest pepper at 1.64 million SHU. By comparison, the pepper spray the cops use is 1.6 million units and bear spray is 2.2 million units. Try putting that in your chili.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">But Currie didn't stop there. He kicked drug and alcohol addiction, and considers the kick he gets from the heat a natural high. And so for the past decade he has been cross breeding the Reaper with others, trying to perfect a pepper that delivered "immediate, brutal heat." And this month he succeeded, releasing Pepper X, which has been rated the hottest pepper in the world by the Guinness Book of World Records, with an average rating of 2.69 million SHU.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;"><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>What does that mean in in terms of taste? As one of only five people to actually eat an entire Pepper X, Currie said "I was feeling the heat for three-and-a-half hours. Then the cramps came. Those cramps are horrible. I was laid out flat on a marble wall for approximately an hour in the rain, groaning in pain." Natural high indeed.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;"><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>While Pepper X is not yet available commercially, Currie has other seeds and sauces on sale through his store. There you can get Angry Irishman Franken Sauce or Smokin' Ed's Chocolate Strawberry Hot Sauce. Just be aware that all his products pack a punch. Put in Emeril terms, they take "Bam" up to nuclear explosion level. Which also helps to explain Currie's company name: PuckerButt Pepper Company.</span></p><p>-END-</p><p><i>Marc Wollin of Bedford prefers Frank's Hot Sauce. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.</i></p><div><br /></div>Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-43023856343596982262023-10-21T04:30:00.001-04:002023-10-21T04:30:00.151-04:00Lost Then Found<p>While we take thousands upon thousands of pictures these days, most exist only electronically. We might print out one from a wedding or a family reunion, but most never see the physical light of day. But before the advent of mass market electronic photography in the 1990's, we printed every picture because that was the only way to see them. While some were framed or put into albums, the vast majority disappeared into shoe boxes stuffed into the back of a closet. Regardless of where they resided, however, they almost all had one thing in common: they weren't labeled. Maybe there was a first name and date on the back, or something like "Our House," but just as likely they were anonymous.</p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">As the generation that owned these historical artifacts downsized, moved or died, these historical records got shuffled and displaced. Eventually they might surface at a garage sale or antique shop. But most had no provenance, no trail or documented history. Indeed, most had little import and were worth next to nothing. Nothing, that is, except to the people who took them or were in the photos or related to those people. And that's where Aaron Turner comes in.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">It started when he helped his grandmother sort and organize her pictures and discovered old photos of friends and kids she babysat for in the 1950's. He helped her research where those people were, package the photos up, then sent them out with a note saying that perhaps the recipient would appreciate these relics. The response was overwhelming: letter after letter came back, thanking her for her kindness. That instilled in him a keen sense of history and pictures, and led to his hobby of finding old photos and reuniting them with their owners or their descendants.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">It started with an eBay store in 2001, where he bought and sold old items, earning enough to pay for college. But occasionally an old picture caught his eye. It might contain a handwritten note or an unusual name, a fragment of an address or something interesting in the background. Based on that scanty evidence he researched them using old maps, records and whatever he could find online. When he made a match he did a "cold mailing," sending the picture off with an explanatory note, with no request or expectation of payment. Needless to say, people were surprised to receive an item in the mail from their past from someone they didn't know. Was it a scam? Nope: it was just Aaron doing something he liked to do. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">By and large the result was delight and astonishment. He received hundreds of letters thanking him for his efforts, along with donations to his cause. As a hobby it became all-consuming and self-sustaining, so much so that he eventually quit his teaching job and got a second Masters degree, this time in library science and archival studies. Along the way he broadened his lost then found efforts, reuniting not just photos of people with their owners, but pictures of old houses, church and school programs and circulars, CB QSL cards, diplomas, and other personal mementos that would have been otherwise lost to history.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Occasionally Aaron will come across an entire old album from one family. Maybe it was misplaced or accidentally sold as part of an estate. If he can figure out an interested party, he will send them a note, explaining who he is and what he does, while offering it at cost. He takes pains to explain he is not extorting people for their old possessions, but reuniting them, and it's their choice to buy or not: "I am not wealthy enough to just buy and give it to you. I invest my own time and do the research it takes to figure out who these people are and then find you for free because, well, I just like to do that."</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Aaron calls his efforts "random acts of genealogical kindness." But it's something more. He also volunteers at the Ohio Genealogical Society, curating their yearbook collection and writing articles for their bulletin, and speaks to local groups about the need to label and archive an individual's precious personal historical artifacts. Otherwise, all those treasures will be lost and forgotten. Thankfully, Aaron likes to find them, and help us remember.</span></p><p>-END-</p><p><i>Marc Wollin of Bedford has a number of photo albums, but needs to label them. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.</i></p><div><br /></div>Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-57463342812050770772023-10-14T04:30:00.001-04:002023-10-14T04:30:00.144-04:00Who's That Lady?<p>If you had a baby girl way back in 2014, you might have named her Emma or Olivia or Sophie, the top three choices for that year. Or you might have dug deeper into the list, and gone with Harper (#19), Elizabeth (#44) or Sadie (#62). Had you gone just one step further in the rankings you would have chanced upon Alexa, a lovely name meaning "defender of man." A perfect name for a young girl with a promising future. </p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">And then came 2015 and the general release of Amazon's Echo.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">The smart speaker that began the revolution gave you the option of answering to a "wake" word of "Amazon," "Echo" or "Computer." But most defaulted to the name of its underlying personal assistant software and called it "Alexa," tainting it for every generation to come. And now you have to go to all way to #536 to find that same name in the list of newborns.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Since then multiple AI based assistants have been rolled out by various companies, and the vast majority of them have female identifiers. Many use names not in general circulation, such as Siri (Apple) and Cortana (Microsoft). But the point of these things is to make them as human as possible, so calling it Vlingo or Brainia puts it one step behind before it even gets going. And so new systems are tagged with monikers more in the mainstream, with the hopes of having them feel like old friends rather than alien invaders. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">The latest example for this is the fast food arena. With 50% to 70% of customers opting to use the drive-up window, companies are looking for ways to streamline that process. And since that scenario is the perfect environment for an AI based intelligent voice response system (a limited list of choices, people talking directly into the microphone, no need of visual human presence), most are at least experimenting with machine-based ordering systems. Which brings us to Julia.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Julia is the computer ordering persona at hamburger chain White Castle. They have plans to roll her out to 100 drive-thru lanes by the end of 2024. She functions like a standard-issue human, asking for your order, telling you the total and then directing you to drive forward to the delivery window. She does have backup: if at any point she gets confused or a customer requests it, an actual person can come on to assist.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Julia joins Tori, the AI ordering system installed in some Panera locations. And while it doesn't have a nom-de-service, the AI ordering system in place at almost half the Checkers and Rally's fast food locations is also bilingual in Spanish, and capable of recognizing and responding in either language. Other players are also testing various systems across the country, including McDonald's, Taco Bell and Del Taco among others, with names to come. One benefit is that AI assistants are less shy about upselling to higher margin items, with the result that Popeyes says drink sales completed with their voice response system have actually increased. Assertive young women to be sure.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">It's just one more instance of AI gaining a toehold in areas where human labor used to have no equal. And in the case of Julia, she is not just an order taker, but a lady boss. If your order includes fried foods, she might pass the request off to Flippy 2, a robot specifically designed to work the deep fryers. With no human intervention, it takes the raw chicken, potatoes or onion rings, drops them in the bubbling grease, cooks them to perfection then dumps them out in a tray to be packaged for customers. And her staff may expand: over at Jack In The Box, Flippy is joined by its sibling Sippy, an automated drink filling system.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Alexa and Julia are merely the latest in a throughline that began with HAL in Arhtur C. Clarke's "2001: A Space Odyssey," but they certainly won't be the last. Hopefully each will advance the state of the art, and become a force multiplier rather than take a Terminator-esque detour. But it's worth noting that the AI assistant Samantha in Spike Jonze's "Her" didn't go rogue because it murdered other people, but because it dated other people. We can only hope that our biggest problem with AI assistants won't be domination, but heartbreak. </span></p><p>-END-</p><p><i>Marc Wollin of Bedford is learning how to use voice commands with more things. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.</i></p><div><br /></div>Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-88503606507712450932023-10-07T04:30:00.001-04:002023-10-07T04:30:00.149-04:00Yo Yo Yo Safety<p>I can't remember if I locked my car. I can't remember if I closed the window in the bedroom. I can't remember if I left the lights on downstairs, or which side the fork goes on, or what the color was of the shirt I wore yesterday. But ask me the lyrics of a particular song from Steely Dan or Fleetwood Mac or Stevie Wonder that I first heard 20 or more years ago, and I can recite it back no matter how nonsensical it seems. From Talking Heads: "We are vain and we are blind / I hate people when they're not polite / Psycho Killer / Qu'est-ce que c'est ? / fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better." Just be happy you are merely reading this, and can't hear me singing it.</p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">For many, music is like that. It seems to dovetail with our brain waves in a way that makes it not only easier to remember but actually unforgettable. Back in the 1970's an advertising executive named David McCall noted this very phenomenon, wherein his young son couldn't remember his multiplication tables but could belt out the lyrics from the Rolling Stones. He pitched an idea to then ABC programming exec Michael Eisner (later head of Disney) to develop a Saturday morning series for kids in which educational concepts would be put to music. "Schoolhouse Rock!" ran in multiple iterations on and off over the next 40 years. Songs such as "Naughty Number Nine" on multiplication, "Rufus Xavier Sarsaparilla" about pronouns and "I'm Just a Bill" about the legislative process helped countless kids sing their way to a passing grade in math, English and social studies.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Now the Consumer Product Safety Commission is trying the same tack to get their messages out. Sure, they have PSA's that run on broadcast outlets, print ads and online reminders about food safety, health and a bevy of other topics. But figuring you should fish where the fish are, they have ventured into the music world where so many people old and young spend a great deal of their time. And rather than drop a product recall, they have dropped some tunes, in the form of an album called <a href="https://www.cpsc.gov/Were-Safety-Now-Havent-We" target="_blank">"We're Safety Now Haven't We."</a></span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">In styles such as K-pop and hip hop, the songs are freely available to download and remix. They address bread and butter safety issues for younger people such as wearing a helmet when you ride your skateboard, using your cell phone responsibly and using fireworks safely. There are also tunes reminding you to check the smoke alarm in your home and to ride your ATV with the proper equipment. </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">The lead track is "Protect Ya Noggin'" reminding listeners to tie their helmets on tight: "Ok let me flip scripts / Kick push, then I kick flip / I can do this all wearing lipstick / I got on a sick fit / Just one more accessory / Let me pick the helmet that will tie it all together please." It's also recorded in Spanish, where the hook "En la- en la calle / estés alerta / no seas cabeza hueca" translates as "In the - in the street / be alert / don't be an empty head." Then there's "Going Off Like Fireworks," which bows to the fact that people may use them, but need to do so safely: "Yea, we burning bright bright / So hot we might ignite nite / Smokin hot like noone else / gotta step back before I burn myself / Oh you're dangerous like dynamite / Let's set it off / Let's watch it light." And "Phone Away" repeats over a techno beat "You gotta put your phone away / On the sidewalk / On the dancefloor / When you're riding."</span></p><p><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>No, there're not "Hotel California" or "We Will Rock You" or "I Want To Hold Your Hand." But then again neither the Eagles, Queen nor the Beatles ever tried to write a song about smoke detectors, so some slack is due. But if they help make a dent in accidents involving young people, it's an effort worth making. The messages aren't new, it's just a new way of delivering them. After all whatever you do, you have to yo yo yo, do it safely. Word.</p><p>-END-</p><p><i>Marc Wollin of Bedford is always looking for new music. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.</i></p><div><br /></div>Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1683443.post-76482101506828388052023-09-30T04:30:00.001-04:002023-09-30T04:30:00.153-04:00Unidentified and Unexplained<p>It has all the elements of a story that takes over the headlines for days. A voluminous investigation just published that interested parties have been chomping at the bit to see, but satisfies no one. Accusations of a coverup, wherein a whistleblower's concerns seem to have been ignored and lawmakers demanding answers on this very topic. And physical evidence presented by experts to policymakers which raise as many questions as it answers. And yet, because it doesn't include the name Biden nor Trump, it's all buried below the fold on page 23. I know, it's hard to believe, but there are other things in this world besides our latest political goings-on that should be raising eyebrows. Or in this particular case, maybe it's not of this world. And that's the point.</p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">First, the report. More than a year in the making, it was penned by NASA, the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. They set out to investigate, from a scientific standpoint, the reports of Unidentified Anomalous Phenomena or UAP, a successor term that includes both Unidentified Flying Objects or UFO's, as well as other events and sightings that cannot be "immediately identified as known human-made or natural phenomena." The panel of 17 independent scientists held hearings, reviewed evidence and heard from witnesses and experts. Their findings, released this month, acknowledges the unexplained nature of the events, but says that the lack of any rigorous formal observation and measurement make it all but impossible to be certain of anything. Or as put by Nicola Fox, associate administrator for the agency's Science Mission Directorate, "While there are numerous eyewitness accounts and visuals associated with UAP, they're not consistent, they're not detailed, and they're not curated observations that can be used to make definitive scientific conclusions about the nature and the origin of UAP." To help advance the discussion, the panel recommends appointing a Director of UAP Research, as well as leveraging and integrating the various existing observational systems to provide better data to study.</span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Then there are the whistleblowers and accusations of a coverup. At a House Oversight Subcommittee on National Security, the Border, and Foreign Affairs hearing held in July, multiple allegations of the covering up of UFO encounters and evidence were introduced by a trio of whistleblowers. In response to the allegations, six Congresspeople sent a request for more information to the Inspector General of the Intelligence Community. The IG wrote back this month that it "has not conducted any audit, inspection, evaluation or review" of the alleged UFO programs. Incredulous that there might be other, more pressing matters to focus on, committee member Rep. Tim Burchett (R-Tenn) said it was a "coverup." In a tweet he wrote "The IC IG office did nothing to look into the information they received from David Grusch on UAP crash retrieval programs? They have no information they can give to Congress???" This in spite of the fact that he also noted in another context that "other things are going on. The, you know, with the looming shutdown and all that other stuff." </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Finally, the evidence. South of the border, lawmakers in the Mexico were also holding hearings on UAP's. As part of that proceeding, they were presented with "alleged remains of non-human beings" in the form of tiny "bodies," displayed in glass cases with three fingers on each hand and elongated heads. Mexican journalist and long-time UFO enthusiast Jaime Maussan claimed were the corpses of extraterrestrials recovered in Peru. He said that he had them analyzed at Mexico's National Autonomous University, and that they were about 1,000 years old. Said Maussan "I think there is a clear demonstration that we are dealing with non-human specimens that are not related to any other species in our world and that all possibilities are open for any scientific institution to investigate it." Congressman Sergio Gutierrez, from President Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador's ruling Morena party, said, "We are left with reflections, with concerns and with the path to continue talking about this." </span></p><p><span style="white-space: normal;">Taken together, it would seem that our new AI overlords are not the only alien presence we should be worried about. But at this point it's all a distant sideshow to the main event happening in Washington. Until then, keep your eyes peeled for more stories about the unexplained, and be ready to call home when that which has been flying below the radar pops above it, both figuratively and literally.</span></p><p>-END-</p><p><i>Marc Wollin of Bedford has never seen a UFO. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.</i></p><div><br /></div>Marc Wollinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17178722992995949283noreply@blogger.com0