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Fingers in the cogs
1 year ago
Saturday, July 26, 2008
the mccain campaign's robot reporter pool
I was catching up with my Daily Show episodes on iTunes last night and noticed this image...
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Robots March on Brooklyn
I live in Brooklyn. Carroll Gardens. Previously known simply as South Brooklyn. A neighborhood known for longshoremen, Italians, bakeries, soppresatta, lawn chairs and funeral homes. Or at least, known to me for these qualities. Actually, the neighborhood is known for having both front and back gardens for each brownstone. The Los Angeles Times (via Gothamist) did a nice little video ... here it is:
Brooklyn used to be a place to get more square footage for less money. Manhattanites moved out to the 718 and brought their Maclaren strollers, enrolled in prenatal yoga at Area, overwhelmed the farmers market in Grand Army Plaza and generally overpopulated the place to the extent that the F train is always crowded and usually painfully late. I'm one of them, sans stroller or prenatal anything. I've been to the farmer's market once. It was nice.
The emblem of all that is yuppie reprehensible in Brooklyn is Park Slope. There's a whole 'thing' brewing over the rising cost of real estate pushing out even the nice folks making a meager six figures. Blog comments are racist and rude, obscenities fly, even those who got off the boat from the East Village three months ago are rallying to the cry of 'there goes the neighborhood.' I like to think that these neighborhoods can be reclaimed by nature (or economics) - grass, trees, weeds all grow up through the cracks in the cement, ivy overtakes mortar and slowly destroys a brick building, and a few well-timed stabbings and shootings on the hipster circuit can reclaim Williamsburg, Fort Greene, Park Slope, and South Brooklyn, rendering it safe only for those brave enough to get off the subway at night. Frankly, it's a bunch of shite. Neighborhoods change - the people who owned those lots and buildings since converted to condos and co-ops made a pretty penny in the process and should take some responsibility for the changes in that neighborhood. They could have kept their Italian longshoremen's families in the nabe, but they wanted to sell out and move out just as much as the yuppies and hipsters were willing to buy in and move in. If they don't stay forever - well, blame the permalancer economy.
I digress. It's also possible that my jet lag is getting the better of my reasoning and sentence construction. So I'll cut to the robot chase - or rather, the robot parade. Some Park Slopians held a robot parade awhile back...
They weren't selling anything. There was no particular purpose to it. It was fun - I'm sorry I missed it. To check out the flickr feed, go here.
Brooklyn used to be a place to get more square footage for less money. Manhattanites moved out to the 718 and brought their Maclaren strollers, enrolled in prenatal yoga at Area, overwhelmed the farmers market in Grand Army Plaza and generally overpopulated the place to the extent that the F train is always crowded and usually painfully late. I'm one of them, sans stroller or prenatal anything. I've been to the farmer's market once. It was nice.
The emblem of all that is yuppie reprehensible in Brooklyn is Park Slope. There's a whole 'thing' brewing over the rising cost of real estate pushing out even the nice folks making a meager six figures. Blog comments are racist and rude, obscenities fly, even those who got off the boat from the East Village three months ago are rallying to the cry of 'there goes the neighborhood.' I like to think that these neighborhoods can be reclaimed by nature (or economics) - grass, trees, weeds all grow up through the cracks in the cement, ivy overtakes mortar and slowly destroys a brick building, and a few well-timed stabbings and shootings on the hipster circuit can reclaim Williamsburg, Fort Greene, Park Slope, and South Brooklyn, rendering it safe only for those brave enough to get off the subway at night. Frankly, it's a bunch of shite. Neighborhoods change - the people who owned those lots and buildings since converted to condos and co-ops made a pretty penny in the process and should take some responsibility for the changes in that neighborhood. They could have kept their Italian longshoremen's families in the nabe, but they wanted to sell out and move out just as much as the yuppies and hipsters were willing to buy in and move in. If they don't stay forever - well, blame the permalancer economy.
I digress. It's also possible that my jet lag is getting the better of my reasoning and sentence construction. So I'll cut to the robot chase - or rather, the robot parade. Some Park Slopians held a robot parade awhile back...
They weren't selling anything. There was no particular purpose to it. It was fun - I'm sorry I missed it. To check out the flickr feed, go here.
Mea Culpa in Miami
Sorry, have not been blogging responsibly.
I was in Miami for a few days for a conference. Some interesting topics, some terrific speakers. Some real duds, as all conferences have, of course. Maybe the thing that stood out most to me was how much we have known for years but we willfully ignore because it seems that there MUST be something new out there. The truth seems to be - there just isn't.
The thing that stood out a little bit, too, was how much people want to talk about 'the business.' Some may take the point of view of insiders and pros, others the perspective of rebels and outsiders. But we all want to talk about our jobs, our companies, our skills, our clients, our experiences. The after-parties were people talking about the job, bitching about the job, looking for a new job, proclaiming what they know about the job that others do not. How I longed for a conversation about robots.
In fairness, I did have a very interesting conversation with a friend in which we - slightly buzzed, in party attire, and under the stars - took each other through a laddering exercise that takes you to your personal, persistent 'theme' - usually a falsehood - that gets in the way of being a whole person. It turns out I think I'm a fraud and this is the source of my writer's block, dissatisfaction, fear, and anger. We then practiced saying our little themes in funny voices until you got a good belly laugh going. Hearing how ridiculous the notion that I'm a fraud, say, or you're unloveable, or he's too much, is incredibly useful in parking it and moving on. I suspect that this is a 'lather, rinse, repeat' exercise - one time is not enough, because the lies we've been telling ourselves the longest, the ones we really believe, are hard to untell ourselves, to take back, to erase.
Levity was in order. I could tell you about the Furries conversation - but that's not really my story to tell. Instead, I'll tell you what happened when I told my dinner companions that I blog about robots. It seemed like a safe space for such things, as half the table were obsessively fondling their iPhones and Blackjacks. I'm not exempt - my iPhone is my personal assistant, my font of knowledge, my sherpa. Oh, iPhone... (soaring romantic music as we pan away)
My friend John suggested that his partner, Rault, would perhaps know a thing or two about robots. Rault demurred. He wasn't in to robots, but had I seen the video of the robotic jellyfish, or the robot baby white tiger? I hadn't. They're fascinating. And here they are:
Jellyfish, via New Scientist These apparently have no use at the moment - they're just cool and stuff.
White Tiger Cub, courtesy of Gizmodo
I think the White Tiger Cub begins to tip into the Uncanny Valley. Maybe if after years of docile obedience the White Tiger Cub eventually mauls you, ending your Vegas career, then it will hit the proper level of realism. Let's wait and see, shall we?
I was in Miami for a few days for a conference. Some interesting topics, some terrific speakers. Some real duds, as all conferences have, of course. Maybe the thing that stood out most to me was how much we have known for years but we willfully ignore because it seems that there MUST be something new out there. The truth seems to be - there just isn't.
The thing that stood out a little bit, too, was how much people want to talk about 'the business.' Some may take the point of view of insiders and pros, others the perspective of rebels and outsiders. But we all want to talk about our jobs, our companies, our skills, our clients, our experiences. The after-parties were people talking about the job, bitching about the job, looking for a new job, proclaiming what they know about the job that others do not. How I longed for a conversation about robots.
In fairness, I did have a very interesting conversation with a friend in which we - slightly buzzed, in party attire, and under the stars - took each other through a laddering exercise that takes you to your personal, persistent 'theme' - usually a falsehood - that gets in the way of being a whole person. It turns out I think I'm a fraud and this is the source of my writer's block, dissatisfaction, fear, and anger. We then practiced saying our little themes in funny voices until you got a good belly laugh going. Hearing how ridiculous the notion that I'm a fraud, say, or you're unloveable, or he's too much, is incredibly useful in parking it and moving on. I suspect that this is a 'lather, rinse, repeat' exercise - one time is not enough, because the lies we've been telling ourselves the longest, the ones we really believe, are hard to untell ourselves, to take back, to erase.
Levity was in order. I could tell you about the Furries conversation - but that's not really my story to tell. Instead, I'll tell you what happened when I told my dinner companions that I blog about robots. It seemed like a safe space for such things, as half the table were obsessively fondling their iPhones and Blackjacks. I'm not exempt - my iPhone is my personal assistant, my font of knowledge, my sherpa. Oh, iPhone... (soaring romantic music as we pan away)
My friend John suggested that his partner, Rault, would perhaps know a thing or two about robots. Rault demurred. He wasn't in to robots, but had I seen the video of the robotic jellyfish, or the robot baby white tiger? I hadn't. They're fascinating. And here they are:
Jellyfish, via New Scientist These apparently have no use at the moment - they're just cool and stuff.
White Tiger Cub, courtesy of Gizmodo
I think the White Tiger Cub begins to tip into the Uncanny Valley. Maybe if after years of docile obedience the White Tiger Cub eventually mauls you, ending your Vegas career, then it will hit the proper level of realism. Let's wait and see, shall we?
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