84,000 people. Oh, yes we can.]]>
84,000 people. Oh, yes we can.]]>
On the basis of this comic book and a bunch of screenshots, a billion pundits are weighing in on the decision and the browser and its future.
I have to say it looks really, really exciting, but in the absence of any further insight, I am going to wait to try it out before blogging about it and what I think it means for the future of the web.]]>
On the basis of this comic book and a bunch of screenshots, a billion pundits are weighing in on the decision and the browser and its future.
I have to say it looks really, really exciting, but in the absence of any further insight, I am going to wait to try it out before blogging about it and what I think it means for the future of the web.]]>
84,000 people. Oh, yes we can.]]>
84,000 people. Oh, yes we can.]]>
It was her choice. She had been given the opportunity to avoid death, and refused. But that had been in the abstract, a noble choice made when death was a theoretical possibility. Now it was a reality, the world fading slowly around her as the sun set and life left her body, and the pain had not been part of her calculations. But she had not much basis for comparison; death was a very rare event in her world.
At the dawn of the 21st century, humanity had finally unlocked the secrets of its own genome, and the decline of death began. It was slow at first, and very uneven, so much so that it had taken centuries for humanity to even recognize that the change had started.
The economic injustices of the previous centuries became the biological injustices of the new ones, as the wealthy bestowed artificial genetic gifts upon their children. Not only did the rich become richer and the poor relatively poorer, not only were they better fed and clothed and healthier. Now the rich became objectively smarter, stronger, and longer lived, and the pace of this change accelerated constantly.
Of course, as demand for these treatments rose the price fell, and the genetic enhancement of humanity began to spread across the globe and across income levels. Even the majority of the very poorest, six centuries later had been gifted whole lifetimes, inoculated at birth with genes that eliminated many chronic diseases and greatly extended lifespan. But the edge, the peak of development, was always those places where it had always been, for reasons of history or luck of geography millennia before.
Competition to be better than the generation before became a cultural obsession across much of the world, and encouraged experimentation. People focused less on physical perfection and more on mental acuity. Brain cases expanded; slowly, and with much moral hand-wringing, natural birth became at first risky and then impossible for a significant portion of the population.
The end of death was accompanied by a decline in the birth rate, but nevertheless a population explosion was inevitable. This initially looked to be disastrous, as increasing demands for land and water destroyed the last of the forests and illegal fishing laid waste to the seas. The green movement born at the end of the 20th century moved from being a special interest group to the primary party across much of the developed world, as environmental preservation and self-preservation became one and the same.
The inevitable solution to environmental destruction and overpopulation arrived in the form of the Earth as Womb movement, who advocated that humanity move wholly into interstellar space. In space there was no shortage of room or energy, and given sufficient quantities of those everything else -- even the creation of matter -- was rapidly becoming a possibility. The once-overwhelming hostility to life of space, the movement reasoned, was no reason not to colonize it now. In the same way that we are conceived in the overwhelmingly benevolent environment of the womb, but must inevitably emerge into the relatively hostile outside world, humanity had long overstayed its welcome in the womb of the world, and it was time to leave it behind.
It took centuries to become a genuine possibility, as enthusiasts built experimental habitats and modified their genes for low gravity, low energy, low-mass living. They grew smaller, eschewing cumbersome clothing for warm fur; freed of the constraints of gravity, they increased the dexterity of their feet. Once it became truly practical to migrate to space, it took thousands of years and the ever-worsening physical condition of the planet to persuade humanity that it was the right course of action. Humanity took to the stars.
But right at the edge of the bell curve of economics, progress was still uneven. Even in the age of exodus, there were still those who had less and those who had more, those who lived lives of exploration and discovery, and those who worked to survive. Lucy was one of these, one of hundreds of thousands of park workers who roamed the now-empty Earth, erasing the scars of the megacities, caring for the planet as it healed itself. To limit their own impact on the environment they survived off the land and used purely biological tools, built into their genes. The truly dedicated -- and Lucy was one of these -- had also decided to forgo life extension technology, to live natural lives and die naturally, as part of the ecosystem.
So when the bank gave out under her and she slid to the bottom of the gully, shattering her left leg and her right arm, she knew she would die, and thought she would probably never even be found. She accepted this, and through the pain was even proud of it. She was a part of the world, the womb of humanity, really part of it, not viewing it as some historical abstraction from a vantage point thousands of light years away. As her last breath left her, she smiled.
She was wrong. Countless millenia later, after the stream had covered her body and centuries had turned it to stone, and the continents had moved and the rivers vanished, the wind ground away at the stone until she was again uncovered. There, driving around a dusty plain on the way back to camp, her bones were found by the Earth's next children. Over the next 3 weeks, they dug her up, and told themselves stories about her brain and her bones, getting it all complete wrong.
But quite by chance, they got her name right.
P.S. Here is the real story of Lucy. She really was named after the Beatles song.]]>
It was her choice. She had been given the opportunity to avoid death, and refused. But that had been in the abstract, a noble choice made when death was a theoretical possibility. Now it was a reality, the world fading slowly around her as the sun set and life left her body, and the pain had not been part of her calculations. But she had not much basis for comparison; death was a very rare event in her world.
At the dawn of the 21st century, humanity had finally unlocked the secrets of its own genome, and the decline of death began. It was slow at first, and very uneven, so much so that it had taken centuries for humanity to even recognize that the change had started.
The economic injustices of the previous centuries became the biological injustices of the new ones, as the wealthy bestowed artificial genetic gifts upon their children. Not only did the rich become richer and the poor relatively poorer, not only were they better fed and clothed and healthier. Now the rich became objectively smarter, stronger, and longer lived, and the pace of this change accelerated constantly.
Of course, as demand for these treatments rose the price fell, and the genetic enhancement of humanity began to spread across the globe and across income levels. Even the majority of the very poorest, six centuries later had been gifted whole lifetimes, inoculated at birth with genes that eliminated many chronic diseases and greatly extended lifespan. But the edge, the peak of development, was always those places where it had always been, for reasons of history or luck of geography millennia before.
Competition to be better than the generation before became a cultural obsession across much of the world, and encouraged experimentation. People focused less on physical perfection and more on mental acuity. Brain cases expanded; slowly, and with much moral hand-wringing, natural birth became at first risky and then impossible for a significant portion of the population.
The end of death was accompanied by a decline in the birth rate, but nevertheless a population explosion was inevitable. This initially looked to be disastrous, as increasing demands for land and water destroyed the last of the forests and illegal fishing laid waste to the seas. The green movement born at the end of the 20th century moved from being a special interest group to the primary party across much of the developed world, as environmental preservation and self-preservation became one and the same.
The inevitable solution to environmental destruction and overpopulation arrived in the form of the Earth as Womb movement, who advocated that humanity move wholly into interstellar space. In space there was no shortage of room or energy, and given sufficient quantities of those everything else -- even the creation of matter -- was rapidly becoming a possibility. The once-overwhelming hostility to life of space, the movement reasoned, was no reason not to colonize it now. In the same way that we are conceived in the overwhelmingly benevolent environment of the womb, but must inevitably emerge into the relatively hostile outside world, humanity had long overstayed its welcome in the womb of the world, and it was time to leave it behind.
It took centuries to become a genuine possibility, as enthusiasts built experimental habitats and modified their genes for low gravity, low energy, low-mass living. They grew smaller, eschewing cumbersome clothing for warm fur; freed of the constraints of gravity, they increased the dexterity of their feet. Once it became truly practical to migrate to space, it took thousands of years and the ever-worsening physical condition of the planet to persuade humanity that it was the right course of action. Humanity took to the stars.
But right at the edge of the bell curve of economics, progress was still uneven. Even in the age of exodus, there were still those who had less and those who had more, those who lived lives of exploration and discovery, and those who worked to survive. Lucy was one of these, one of hundreds of thousands of park workers who roamed the now-empty Earth, erasing the scars of the megacities, caring for the planet as it healed itself. To limit their own impact on the environment they survived off the land and used purely biological tools, built into their genes. The truly dedicated -- and Lucy was one of these -- had also decided to forgo life extension technology, to live natural lives and die naturally, as part of the ecosystem.
So when the bank gave out under her and she slid to the bottom of the gully, shattering her left leg and her right arm, she knew she would die, and thought she would probably never even be found. She accepted this, and through the pain was even proud of it. She was a part of the world, the womb of humanity, really part of it, not viewing it as some historical abstraction from a vantage point thousands of light years away. As her last breath left her, she smiled.
She was wrong. Countless millenia later, after the stream had covered her body and centuries had turned it to stone, and the continents had moved and the rivers vanished, the wind ground away at the stone until she was again uncovered. There, driving around a dusty plain on the way back to camp, her bones were found by the Earth's next children. Over the next 3 weeks, they dug her up, and told themselves stories about her brain and her bones, getting it all complete wrong.
But quite by chance, they got her name right.
P.S. Here is the real story of Lucy. She really was named after the Beatles song.]]>
For bonus points, link to your new website, using link text with sensible keywords, from a domain that already has high PageRank. You know, like I'm doing right now.]]>
For bonus points, link to your new website, using link text with sensible keywords, from a domain that already has high PageRank. You know, like I'm doing right now.]]>
Now here's iTunes' current primary feature set:
Most of these "features" could be -- and most are -- the sole focus of other standalone applications. Apple's ability to combine all of them into a single application is either a triumph or a tragedy, and I'm beginning to lean towards the latter.
Firstly, these functions have increasingly less to do with each other. Yes, I know the iPhone is also an iPod, but that's really a sub-feature of what is primarily a portable web device, PDA and phone, in that order. I would love to see an iPhone application, freed of the jail of having to pretend to be a music player: it could properly expose my contacts list, and concentrate properly on application search and discovery. The current situation where the application store is a subsection of the iTunes Music Store is patently insane: when do you ever, ever search for a single search term that would be equally valid as an application name or a song, or vice versa? Why are the photo syncing features of the iPhone -- which is also a camera, remember -- so rudimentary? Yes, I know on OS X it syncs with iPhoto: more than 75% of iTunes users are Windows users, so that's not an acceptable answer.
Secondly, the self-evident bloat of this feature set aside, Apple is beginning to use the ubiquity -- nay, the tyranny -- of iTunes to bundle in other software. It can reasonably explain the presence of Quicktime with every iTunes install, Quicktime being the engine that plays music and videos for iTunes. But why is Safari in there? I guess you had to include the KHTML engine to render the music store, but suddenly installing a completely unrelated application on users' machines under the pretext of a software update sounds like another company we know, one that got into a certain amount of trouble for doing so.
Bundling ever-more functionality into iTunes was initially a clever shortcut that has now become a major design mistake that Apple, gods of UI, have been getting a free pass on for too long. It's time to refactor, and end the tyranny of iTunes. ]]>
Now here's iTunes' current primary feature set:
Most of these "features" could be -- and most are -- the sole focus of other standalone applications. Apple's ability to combine all of them into a single application is either a triumph or a tragedy, and I'm beginning to lean towards the latter.
Firstly, these functions have increasingly less to do with each other. Yes, I know the iPhone is also an iPod, but that's really a sub-feature of what is primarily a portable web device, PDA and phone, in that order. I would love to see an iPhone application, freed of the jail of having to pretend to be a music player: it could properly expose my contacts list, and concentrate properly on application search and discovery. The current situation where the application store is a subsection of the iTunes Music Store is patently insane: when do you ever, ever search for a single search term that would be equally valid as an application name or a song, or vice versa? Why are the photo syncing features of the iPhone -- which is also a camera, remember -- so rudimentary? Yes, I know on OS X it syncs with iPhoto: more than 75% of iTunes users are Windows users, so that's not an acceptable answer.
Secondly, the self-evident bloat of this feature set aside, Apple is beginning to use the ubiquity -- nay, the tyranny -- of iTunes to bundle in other software. It can reasonably explain the presence of Quicktime with every iTunes install, Quicktime being the engine that plays music and videos for iTunes. But why is Safari in there? I guess you had to include the KHTML engine to render the music store, but suddenly installing a completely unrelated application on users' machines under the pretext of a software update sounds like another company we know, one that got into a certain amount of trouble for doing so.
Bundling ever-more functionality into iTunes was initially a clever shortcut that has now become a major design mistake that Apple, gods of UI, have been getting a free pass on for too long. It's time to refactor, and end the tyranny of iTunes. ]]>
Ed: i mean, I hate russia too]]>
and I think that this is a very bad development
but I am not at all convinced that we should be getting into a shooting war with the Russians.
war with russians never turns out well for anyone
laurie: Yes, that went badly last time.
Ed: surely we've learned that much
laurie: Also, it went on forever
Who has two decades to waste on a national pissing match now?
We all need to unite, and gang up on china.
Ed: i mean, I hate russia too]]>
and I think that this is a very bad development
but I am not at all convinced that we should be getting into a shooting war with the Russians.
war with russians never turns out well for anyone
laurie: Yes, that went badly last time.
Ed: surely we've learned that much
laurie: Also, it went on forever
Who has two decades to waste on a national pissing match now?
We all need to unite, and gang up on china.
My theory is that it's because you don't come up with ideas on your own. In fact, you don't come up with ideas at all. Ideas are accidents. Creativity is the process of creating new connections between disparate inputs. Working on your own, your inputs come from what you read. That can produce some creativity, but what you read is largely self-selected or at least filtered by your choice of blogs and news outlets.
Conversations produce accidental ideas. It's one of the most striking things about a conversation between two clever people: they nearly always end up creating new information -- even if it's just a joke -- rather than merely exchanging it. And in the bay, sheer density of geeks means there are more conversations between geeks, which means more happy accidents.
In other words, the bay area isn't necessary to run your startup -- all of that can, indeed, be successfully done remotely these days. The bay is necessary to get your idea in the first place. It's not because the people who live in the bay are unusually creative, it's because there are unusually large numbers of creative people in the bay. No matter how clever and plugged-in you are, you can't duplicate on your own the effect of constantly talking to hundreds of other smart, technical people, which is the social life (of geeks, at least) in the bay.
Which is sort of why I'm here. ]]>
My theory is that it's because you don't come up with ideas on your own. In fact, you don't come up with ideas at all. Ideas are accidents. Creativity is the process of creating new connections between disparate inputs. Working on your own, your inputs come from what you read. That can produce some creativity, but what you read is largely self-selected or at least filtered by your choice of blogs and news outlets.
Conversations produce accidental ideas. It's one of the most striking things about a conversation between two clever people: they nearly always end up creating new information -- even if it's just a joke -- rather than merely exchanging it. And in the bay, sheer density of geeks means there are more conversations between geeks, which means more happy accidents.
In other words, the bay area isn't necessary to run your startup -- all of that can, indeed, be successfully done remotely these days. The bay is necessary to get your idea in the first place. It's not because the people who live in the bay are unusually creative, it's because there are unusually large numbers of creative people in the bay. No matter how clever and plugged-in you are, you can't duplicate on your own the effect of constantly talking to hundreds of other smart, technical people, which is the social life (of geeks, at least) in the bay.
Which is sort of why I'm here. ]]>
Over the last 18-24 months my vision has massively deteriorated. A slight extra glow to streetlights at the end of a long night was my first indicator -- rather like the glow you get when it's a bit foggy. This slowly became a glowing halo around all lights at night, then lights during the day, and now anything light-coloured. Light text on a dark background -- the default terminal screen in a UNIX environment -- is completely unreadable to me; I have to change to a lower-contrast colour scheme. Credit sequences in movies are similarly unreadable, and dark scenes in general are becoming harder and harder. At night, my vision has become an increasingly indistinguishable mess of overlapping, glowing blobs which has significantly decreased my enthusiasm for going out at night.
I have obviously been trying very hard to work out what is going wrong. A succession of opticians have examined my eyes and found them completely healthy in every way they can measure -- my prescription remains the same: in bright light, everything is perfectly clear. The pressure inside the eyes, the pattern of tear distribution, the surfaces of my corneas and my retinas are all healthy and unchanged. Listening to my symptoms they pronounced "dry eyes", and so a succession of eye drops, gels, heat packs and oil pills have been tried, all to no apparent effect.
As the deterioration continued unchecked, I began to press my opticians to try harder. This led to further tests, all still good, and questions, aimed -- subtly -- at determining whether there might be a neurological cause, i.e. something like a brain tumor. Finally, yesterday, I got an answer: "spherical aberration". A very precise map of the surfaces of my eyes show that they are microscopically flattened at the front. This type of flattening used to be a common side effect of lasik surgery, and in fact it was a lasik clinic where I got the tests done.
This answer, while heartening -- the lack of any other probable cause had me really quite worried about the tumor option -- is also very dissatisfactory. There is no treatment for having flat eyes. You apparently just "get used to it". The other odd factor is the sudden onset -- your eyes are either flat or they aren't; they aren't supposed to suddenly get flat, or at least not this quickly. The lasik doctor said, however, that eyes do change shape in your mid-twenties, so it was not entirely unheard of.
While unsatisfactory, I guess this explanation will have to do. At least there is something they can point at, and I will keep -- ha -- an eye on the situation.
]]>Over the last 18-24 months my vision has massively deteriorated. A slight extra glow to streetlights at the end of a long night was my first indicator -- rather like the glow you get when it's a bit foggy. This slowly became a glowing halo around all lights at night, then lights during the day, and now anything light-coloured. Light text on a dark background -- the default terminal screen in a UNIX environment -- is completely unreadable to me; I have to change to a lower-contrast colour scheme. Credit sequences in movies are similarly unreadable, and dark scenes in general are becoming harder and harder. At night, my vision has become an increasingly indistinguishable mess of overlapping, glowing blobs which has significantly decreased my enthusiasm for going out at night.
I have obviously been trying very hard to work out what is going wrong. A succession of opticians have examined my eyes and found them completely healthy in every way they can measure -- my prescription remains the same: in bright light, everything is perfectly clear. The pressure inside the eyes, the pattern of tear distribution, the surfaces of my corneas and my retinas are all healthy and unchanged. Listening to my symptoms they pronounced "dry eyes", and so a succession of eye drops, gels, heat packs and oil pills have been tried, all to no apparent effect.
As the deterioration continued unchecked, I began to press my opticians to try harder. This led to further tests, all still good, and questions, aimed -- subtly -- at determining whether there might be a neurological cause, i.e. something like a brain tumor. Finally, yesterday, I got an answer: "spherical aberration". A very precise map of the surfaces of my eyes show that they are microscopically flattened at the front. This type of flattening used to be a common side effect of lasik surgery, and in fact it was a lasik clinic where I got the tests done.
This answer, while heartening -- the lack of any other probable cause had me really quite worried about the tumor option -- is also very dissatisfactory. There is no treatment for having flat eyes. You apparently just "get used to it". The other odd factor is the sudden onset -- your eyes are either flat or they aren't; they aren't supposed to suddenly get flat, or at least not this quickly. The lasik doctor said, however, that eyes do change shape in your mid-twenties, so it was not entirely unheard of.
While unsatisfactory, I guess this explanation will have to do. At least there is something they can point at, and I will keep -- ha -- an eye on the situation.
]]>The solution: this bookmarklet! Drag this "RURL" link to your browser's bookmarks bar. Clicking it will take you to the RURL site, giving you the tiny version of your current page.]]>
The solution: this bookmarklet! Drag this "RURL" link to your browser's bookmarks bar. Clicking it will take you to the RURL site, giving you the tiny version of your current page.]]>
But Knol is really something more profound and a lot more worrying. It became clear quite quickly that Knol has ridiculous levels of PageRank, the Google juice that gets you listed first in searches. Within a few days of launch, a page created on Knol took just hours to out-rank a long-standing page that Google itself declared to be identical, from a highly-ranked, long-existing domain. PageRank isn't supposed to work that way, and it doesn't work that way for anybody else.
Jason Calcanis (of Wikipedia/Knol competitor Mahalo) put it excellently today when he said that Google is becoming a content company:
I've always seen Google as the modern day operating system, and our job to work within their framework. ... Their operating system is search results, and About.com, HowThingsWork.com, digg.com, NYTimes.com, Engadget.com, etc. are all applications in that operating system. Our job is to create the best possible products that operate -- aka rank -- as well as possible with Google's OS.
That's an excellent analogy, and a telling one. Knol is a content application in the Internet operating system created and owned by Google. When the company that controls the operating system creates an application, and favours its own application over identical applications by other companies... well, it sounds a lot like abuse of power. More dangerously, when the maker of that operating system has massive 68% market share and growing, it becomes abuse of monopoly. It also sounds pretty startlingly similar to another antitrust case I remember.
The rapidly growing consensus amongst content creators is that Knol is a step too far. The company whose mission is to "organize the world's information" is straying into "monetizing the world's information", and in the process they are damaging competitors who were doing it better (Wikipedia) or at least just as well (Mahalo).
A little over a year ago, when Google bought DoubleClick, I said:
...now the corner has been turned, and a move that makes more money despite annoying and hassling end-users has been deemed Googly. Any number of dirty tricks -- and with market power like Google's, there are a lot of dirty tricks it can pull -- are now fair game. This will, inevitably, lead to them doing something to improve Google's bottom line at the expense of your Internet experience. Goodbye, non-evil Google. It was nice knowing you.
And now you have it: Google is stealing traffic from other websites with identical or better information, and making money from the theft. There's no way to wriggle out of it: Google, this is evil. Stop.
But Knol is really something more profound and a lot more worrying. It became clear quite quickly that Knol has ridiculous levels of PageRank, the Google juice that gets you listed first in searches. Within a few days of launch, a page created on Knol took just hours to out-rank a long-standing page that Google itself declared to be identical, from a highly-ranked, long-existing domain. PageRank isn't supposed to work that way, and it doesn't work that way for anybody else.
Jason Calcanis (of Wikipedia/Knol competitor Mahalo) put it excellently today when he said that Google is becoming a content company:
I've always seen Google as the modern day operating system, and our job to work within their framework. ... Their operating system is search results, and About.com, HowThingsWork.com, digg.com, NYTimes.com, Engadget.com, etc. are all applications in that operating system. Our job is to create the best possible products that operate -- aka rank -- as well as possible with Google's OS.
That's an excellent analogy, and a telling one. Knol is a content application in the Internet operating system created and owned by Google. When the company that controls the operating system creates an application, and favours its own application over identical applications by other companies... well, it sounds a lot like abuse of power. More dangerously, when the maker of that operating system has massive 68% market share and growing, it becomes abuse of monopoly. It also sounds pretty startlingly similar to another antitrust case I remember.
The rapidly growing consensus amongst content creators is that Knol is a step too far. The company whose mission is to "organize the world's information" is straying into "monetizing the world's information", and in the process they are damaging competitors who were doing it better (Wikipedia) or at least just as well (Mahalo).
A little over a year ago, when Google bought DoubleClick, I said:
...now the corner has been turned, and a move that makes more money despite annoying and hassling end-users has been deemed Googly. Any number of dirty tricks -- and with market power like Google's, there are a lot of dirty tricks it can pull -- are now fair game. This will, inevitably, lead to them doing something to improve Google's bottom line at the expense of your Internet experience. Goodbye, non-evil Google. It was nice knowing you.
And now you have it: Google is stealing traffic from other websites with identical or better information, and making money from the theft. There's no way to wriggle out of it: Google, this is evil. Stop.