Disorderly Content

Thank you, Valleywag. Not for just being you, althought that's certainly reason enough. But for your foresight and wisdom in passing along news of Internet Status. Indeed, without Internet Status how would any of us know if there's an Internet on which to work, play and... well, that's it, really. Although there's something bothering me about this. Something about how, if the Internet really were down, how useful is a website that would tell me that it's down, assuming of course that there's an Internet to get me to the site. Or something like that. I'm clearly not seeing the big picture. Good blog, though.

I've been enjoying the hoohaw over the AOL customer who recorded his attempt to cancel the service and the service rep's increasing stonewalling thereof. Part of the pleasure in hearing about such an abuse of the customer/vendor relationship is our belief that we're all victims together against the corporate greed and blockheadism that we face every day. In the AOL case we're not at all surprised; we're just glad it happened to somebody else. Schadenfreude, thy name is customer service.

Which is why I wasn't at all pleased when I found myself at the beginning of a customer service screwup. I've mentioned before that I just purchased a new car. I financed said vehicle through my credit union, with which I've had a happy relationship coming up on twenty years. So I wasn't at all pleased when I checked their website this morning and saw that my loan had finally showed up. Not that I was unhappy about that; it was exactly why I'd been checking the site since I got the car two weeks ago. No, the problem was the loan rate, which was considerable higher than the one I'd been quoted.

So it was with a heavy heart that I called to find out what happened. First time I picked the wrong choice on their menu system, couldn't negotiate my way back out, and had to hang up and try again. Second time I got through to a service rep, who asked a couple of security questions to verify that I am indeed me. (Existential crisis, much?) Unfortunately, part of what she asked involved recent deposits. And, not having that information at hand, I had to get online to check the amounts. Which I guess is okay, assuming nobody has broken in to get my account name and password.

Anyway, I then explained the problem. That rate's too high; don't I get the direct deposit discount? And isn't there another discount for getting a hybrid? One moment, says she, and I'm listening to phone ads while I wait for her to come back on the line. A very few minutes later she's back. And the short answer is whoops!; I am indeed entitled to those discounts on my loan rate, she'll put the paperwork in to correct the account and call me when it's fixed.

Talk about your nonevents! Here I was, ready for some major hassles, multiple calls and potential raising of voices or even threatening to take my business elsewhere. But no, all I get is friendly and fast service. It's almost enough to make you lose faith in America.

It also reminds me of something I heard years ago: that people are more impressed with companies that handle their mistakes quickly and without grief than with companies that never screw up in the first place. And it's certainly true in this case. I generally don't give my credit union much thought. But on the rare occasion when they get it wrong, they suddenly have a chance to make a positive impression. Which they did.

Of course if they really want to impress me they could drop the rate to zero...

Update 06/30: Happy ending to the story, not that I expected anything else. Checking my accounts today revealed a new lower rate on my loan, accompanied by new lower payments. Much obliged.

Growing up, I think I always saw nature as something that got in the way. I could never understand why we couldn't get some favorite foods whenever we wanted back in the days before grocery globalization. By the time I was doing my own shopping, it had ceased to be an issue. Well, unless you actually wanted good produce, stuff that tasted the way it was supposed to. But somehow I didn't notice; I just accepted increasing mediocrity at the market as one of the benefits of the modern age. Heck, I didn't even notice how bad most frozen foods taste. After all, they're a huge improvement over canned. Aren't they?

Anyway, that's all changed since I got hooked on our local farmer's markets. They've brought me a little closer to nature, with both the good and bad. The good of course is that I get food that looks and tastes a lot better than what's in the market, and often a lot cheaper too. The bad is that I can only get it when it's there to get got. Which is kind of fun, as each weekly visit brings in new things and means saying goodbye to old ones. Right now we're nearing the end of the cherry harvest, which is sad. But the blueberries are out in quantity, which makes me happy. And I got the first okra since last fall, which is exciting if you like that kind of thing. (I do.) I'm still waiting for the hot peppers to make their appearance. The first few varieties are showing up, but I expect all kinds of colors, shapes and degrees of pain to arrive over the next few weeks. Exciting, isn't it?

I was listening to the podcast of On The Media in the car today, an NPR show I like even more now that I can listen whenever I want. Anyway, there was a discussion with National Public Radio's ex-ombudsman, who was getting the third degree about some of his pronouncements regarding NPR programming. And I have to wonder which of us is more screwed up, since I found myself agreeing with the interviewer and disagreeing with the ombudsman every single time.

Case in point: some minor story they ran on All Things Considered where someone mentioned in passing the non-reality of the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny. Which caused some heartbroken mommy to call in to complain, because her four and five year old heard this broadcast and had their own little coronary meltdowns. I mean, isn't the most important thing for NPR to worry about is not saying anything that might upset the pre-kindergarten crowd who might be listening in? Talk about programming for the lowest common denominator...

Or the famous incident when Bill O'Reilly walked off Terry Gross's Fresh Air show because she wanted to quote something about him from People magazine. He ordered her not to, but she went ahead anyway. So he walked out of the studio, which is funny since his studio was a couple of hundred miles from hers. And the ombudsman came down on Gross, all 5'2" of her, for "going after" (his words) the most abusive prick on radio today (my words). If she'd been interviewing Hitler, I wonder if bringing up the subject of Auschwitz would have been considered over the line.

I run a modestly successful blog. No, not this one; I'm talking about my iTunes music blog. Having a music blog means I get approached on occasion by musicians and music fans, all hoping I'll provide a plug. One positive is that it's been generally easy to tell the difference between a band that wants exposure, even as little as I'm likely to provide, and a fan who just wants to share a new discovery.

Well, easy until today. Because today I got an email from someone who claimed to be a fan of some singer I'd never heard of. And I might have bought her story if I hadn't followed the link to her blog, which consisted of five whole entries over six months, five of which are about this same obscure performer. Or if this blogger hadn't claimed to be from Minnesota, despite a fractured syntax which suggests that wherever she was schooled, it wasn't within the borders of these United States. (No, not even Canada.) Or, for that matter, if I didn't think the subject of her blog sounded like a bunch of cats fighting it out in a garbage can. A really tinny garbage can.

It's possible I'm wrong; that she isn't trying to scam me (and by extension you, my beloved reader), that she's just an inarticulate midwesterner with truly appalling taste in music. Possible but unlikely. In any event, there's a reason I'm not providing any information about my correspondent or her taste in music: I respect you too much for that. After all, you're here, aren't you?

I caught Cars over the weekend, in between stretches of my own automotive adventure. I enjoyed the movie, although I had my doubts in the early going. Willful and stupid behavior is understandable in a child like Nemo, but when it's a supposedly adult character like Cars' lead it's a lot harder to tolerate. I spent the first half hour repeating to myself "What a brainless schmuck!" under my breath, which isn't a sensation I enjoy. Fortunately he and the movie settled down.

What surprised me was the love story part of the story. No, not the romantic relationship between Lightning and Sally; I found myself cringing over automotive PDAs, although they were thankfully few. (I also had trouble accepting Bonnie Hunt as a Porsche, but that's beside the point.) No, it was the characters' and the moviemakers' affection for Route 66 that held my attention. I too have that particular bug, and have driven what's left of the Mother Road in California and Arizona. Willingly.

There's not a little bit of irony in my feelings about Route 66 and the pre-Interstate approach to road travel. My own childhood experiences traveling down the East Coast to visit family in Charleston and Savannah were hardly pleasurable, although they were no better after the Interstate made them faster and more predictable. In my childish view, they would have sucked no matter how we got there. But now that I'm an adult (heck, I have the AARP card to prove it) and can go and stop off where I choose, I can see the interest to be had in all those unique and tacky roadside attractions. Nationwide chains aren't an unmixed blessing.

So now I get off the Interstate when the option exists and I have the time to explore. And if no place is as cutesy and lose in time as Radiator Springs, I keep hoping. Guess I'm not the only one.

I've now had my new Camry Hybrid for three whole days and something like 600 miles. And as much as I'm enjoying my purchase, and yes, I am getting the advertised 40 miles to the gallon, this vehicle is taking some getting used to. One challenge is to try to ignore the potential information overload. With all these interesting, visually stunning and animated displays to choose from, it's hard to not get caught up in the wonder of the hybrid system. One moment the gasoline engine is powering the wheels. The next it's a combination of gas and the electric motor. When you coast, the wheels act as a generator and feed power back to the battery. At intersections everything's quiet. And then the light changes and, depending on how hard you press the accelerator, either the electric motor or a combination of gas and electric gets you going.

And there are all the statistics: fuel economy this trip (if you do well, at the end of the trip you're rewarded by a message of Excellent! on your panel), fuel economy since you filled up, cruising range (which seems wildly conservative, given my fuel usage and the size of the tank), outside temperature (which changed from chilly to scorching within a few miles) and so on. Plus the navigation display, which deserves its own post. (Don't worry; I'll spare you that one.) I tell you, it's hard to keep your eyes on the road.

But perhaps the strangest experience I'm having is my inability to stop reaching in my pocket for the key every time I approach the car. The Camry has this RF-based keyless entry system; you just walk up, it notices you're there and unlocks the door as you're pulling the handle. Similarly, there's no ignition lock; you press a big Power button to get things going. And to shut down at the end of your trip; I can't stop reaching for the nonexistent key in the nonexistent lock.

Which I suppose isn't all that bad. I mean, it's not like feeling foolish a few more times a day's gonna kill me, right? And maybe in a few years I'll get out of the habits of a lifetime. Either that or install a placebo lock in the car. Now there's an idea...

What car? Why, this one.

I've written before about the Tubey's Kids auctions over at Television Without Pity, how the winner gets a snarky recap written for an episode of their favorite show, and how we Farscape fans kept coming back to win auction after auction. We became so dominant that the fine folk at TWoP decided to give us recaps of the whole series starting this summer, presumably so we'd let somebody else have a shot at winning.

Anyway, we had some money left over from the last auction that was looking for a home. And DeAnn, TV goddess and organizer of our auction activities, had the idea of making a donation in the name of each of the TWoP recappers. Which is when we found out about the Dewey Donation System, a drive to collect books and other donations for the libraries in Harrison County, Louisiana that were hit so hard by last year's hurricanes. So we gave. And gave. And then I gave. And gave again. And I hope you'll think about giving as well. The thought of a library without books is just too sad.

I'm a member of a Yahoo! Group for submitters to microstock photography agencies; it's a place where we can discuss the business or hobby or whatever microstock is to us, free from the sometimes draconian censorship policies of the agencies' own forums. Anyway, today I got a couple of large messages with the Subject line of New Graphic Site. They claimed to be lesbian porn, although the attachments had another type of screwing in mind. Fortunately, Thunderbird doesn't display images in messages without my permission, so I wasn't at risk. But I did have to laugh at the signature Yahoo! appends to all its messages:

Tired of spam? Yahoo! Mail has the best Spam protection around

Which leaves me wondering if it's that same best Spam protection around that didn't catch this particular bit of nogoodnikware. Four times to our group alone!

Ah, the eternal questions. Here I sit at work. At home. Doing homework, or whatever they call it when you work from home. And of course I'm always up for anything that will improve my productivity. So when I listened to the latest episode of the Mac Geek Gab podcast and learned that Apple Remote Desktop is based on the open standard Virtual Network Computing, and even better that I can install a VNC client on my work laptop and use ARD to control my Mac Mini, all without ever having to leave the couch, well, how could I not try it? Especially since I can experience all this wonderfulness without having to pay a cent!

It's amazingly simple to set up. First I turned on the Apple Remote Desktop service from the Sharing System Preference on my Mac. (Okay, I did have to get up to do that.) Then I did a Google search and found the free RealVNC client, downloaded it and installed it on the laptop. A couple of minutes later I had my Mac desktop in a big window on Windows.

So now I can do all my Mac stuff without leaving the sofa. Well, except for any time I get thirsty. Or hungry. Maybe if I put a small fridge in place of that end table...

And another favorite show bites the dust. Last night's finale for Everwood wasn't the ragefest I felt while watching the last episode of Farscape (the male and female lead getting turned into Folger's Crystals, followed by a To Be Continued that we all knew was a lie -- although it turned out not to be), and it wasn't the emotional roller coaster of the end of Angel. It was sappy and tearstained, in all sorts of good ways. And even as a double episode it was way too short. I realize that it's Everwood the place I'll miss, even more than Everwood the show. The creators managed to give us the kind of small town we all want to live in, even people like me who'd go insane within weeks in a place like that. Not a Mayberry, where the weirdness and the smallmindedness would have me wanting to off every third resident. (Oh, let's be honest: every second resident. At least.) But a place with warmth and openness, where somehow people keep surprising you.

Good stuff. And how ironic that it had to die to give 7th Heaven yet another season. It's been said that the good is the enemy of the great, that merely good enough is easy and cheap enough to make it harder and more risky to produce real quality. Then how to explain the decisions at the new CW, where the best is pushed out by the truly craptacular?

If I haven't been my usual diligent self, you can blame work. )I certainly do.) I just spent a week commuting up to San Francisco to help a client install and make use of my company's software. The work went well, the customer was pleased, and spending time in SF is hardly a chore. That commute on the other hand...

I took advantage of Caltrain, which is both cheaper than driving (have you looked at San Francisco parking lately?) and a lot less stressful. What it isn't is fast or particularly convenient. End to end the trip takes a little over an hour at best, not counting the waiting around if I didn't time my arrivals perfectly. Which of course I never did, since missing a train meant either waiting around a long time for the next one or getting stuck on a local.

But there's an upside to all this, beside the obvious pleasure of collecting a paycheck. And that's that twice in the past couple of years I was in the running for positions at Macromedia, now part of Adobe. In San Francisco. A longish walk from the Caltrain station, in fact. So this was a taste of what might have been. And suddenly not getting those jobs doesn't feel so bad. My work-at-home commute from the bedroom to the living room is much more to my taste. And of course every day is casual Friday around here...