Altered reality

I’ve noticed this odd business model on a lot of Internet “media” sites. Before you can see what their reportage is like, they want you to remove your ad blocking browser extension.

Dudes—that’s like asking me to lower my shields as the Klingon warbird approaches. Not happening.

But at the very same time that they block all view of their web page, they expect you to sign up for notifications.

Dudes—I have enough spam from companies I once bought a pound of coffee from. I’m not adding your nonsense to the blitz.

It’s been my experience, on the occasion that I fire up Edge to take an unprotected look at the site, that their notion of “journalism” is to repurpose a CNN report, so I’m not missing anything. But I’m gobsmacked that they at a single stroke block your view and ask, “Hey—you want more?”

I wonder how often that actually works?

Not worth a penny

On the twitters-dot-com, where poseurs go to appear profound, you often see banal tweets with hashtags like #Mondaymotivation or #Tuesdaythoughts.

Here’s one from a guy I must have followed for some reason, but either I stopped or I muted him because so much of his banality was also moronic. Viz:

If you’re going to fake profundity, at least spell the one-syllable words right.

YouTube miracle

A while ago I wrote about how you can learn to repair pretty much anything via YouTube. No matter how arcane your problem, someone’s uploaded a homemade video on how to solve it.

Well, when I got home yesterday afternoon, the house seemed really warm, and when I lowered the thermostat, nothing happened. Believe me, yesterday was a day when you didn’t want your AC non-operational.

I’d had an issue some months ago when the thermostat just went blank, and YouTube showed me how to replace the batteries. I didn’t even know thermostats needed batteries—I don’t recall ever having to replace them before. So that was my starting point. But still nothing happened. And the actual temperature actually went up a degree while I was doing it.

Ulp. Off to YouTube.

I was watching some guy walk through the steps of determining why the blower might not be going on. After checking the circuit breaker (not tripped), he lost me when he hauled out some kind of electricometer and read out how many volts were dancing on the head of a pin, and then more dancing in the thermostat. I despaired: “Dude—I don’t want to take a course in being an electrician; I just want AC.”

And at that very moment, I heard the electronic click come from the thermostat. I ran to the front door, and hallelujah, the unit was working. I set the temp for four degrees lower than usual, just to make up for the panic.

God bless YouTube.

How much?

Every once in a while, it’s amusing to start an online search and see what Google’s idea of what you’re looking for is.

Viz:

Creationism

A friend sent me the link to this frisnic on Bored Panda—people’s take on what God was thinking while creating life on Earth. They’re pretty good. I’ll give you a couple of fer-instances and leave you to click through to all 49 of them.

I dunno who this Dad guy is, but he’s very, very funny.

And here’s the cold water of truth:

User research

Because I used to work for an enterprise feedback technology company, I’m always curious when a company puts out what it’s pleased to call a survey. When Facebook does it, well…

This popped up in my feed last week, so I followed it to see what exercise in pretend-voice-of-the-customer research they were on about.

And, sure enough—here’s how they started out:

I mean—seriously?

That’s the kind of self-congratulatory piffle you’d expect to come out of the current occupant of the White House.

They followed it up by asking for “my own words”, as though they give a toss.

And then prompted me with their own words.

Note that that’s a radio-button response. Meaning you can only choose one. Yes, they say “most important”, but how can you pick just one way Facebook sucks?

Then they spent a lot of their own words reminding me of why I should have said they're fine, upstanding citizens of the world.

And that’s all, folks.

So—as I expected—they didn’t really want to know what I (or any of their users) think of them or their platform; it’s just an exercise in faux concern.

Just exactly like their response to every revelation of their amoral douchebaggery over the years.

Oughta be a law...

As you are all too well aware, we are living in interes utterly bizarre times. I was alive in the 60s, and it still wasn’t as batshit crazy as what we’re seeing now.

For today’s example, I’m going to step away from the lunacy emanating directly from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue and give you a bill proposed in the Arizona state legislature by a whackadoodle named Gail Griffin (RWNJ). Her House Bill 2444 w-wou (sorry, laughing too hard) would require (hahahaha)…

Well, first of all it’s the “Obscene and Criminal Blocking Software” law. And it requires all “product[s] that make content accessible on the Internet” bought in the great, regressive state of Arizona to block by default access to porn. (Think about that. By default.) And if you want to unblock your, er, device to view “obscene material”, you have to pay $20. To some state entity TBD.

And your $20 and all the $20 of your porn-fan brethren will go to fund the Kleptocrat’s wall along the southern border. Imagining the Tea Partiers who infest Arizona forking out any amount of money to unblock their “obscene material” is just hysterical.

No, I swear I am not making this up. You can read the whole farkochte thing here. Her definitions of “specified anatomical areas” alone are worth the wading through all the all-caps.

Griffin apparently isn’t the first legislator to display her complete and utter ignorance of how The Interwebz works; other porn-blocking nonsense has been attempted in Kentucky, Alabama, Utah, Rhode Island, South Carolina and Virginia—all proud bastions of ignorance. (Well, I don’t know what’s up with Rhode Island.) But she seems the first to tie porn to the wall. Publicly, at least.

Okay, but today’s post is not so much about Griffin’s idiocy as it is about Twitter’s response. Because this thread is smashing. I started taking screen caps to give you an idea:

But you should really just go here and start scrolling. Just don't be drinking anything while you do that.

Put it on my bill

I confess that I was somewhat disappointed that (as of yesterday afternoon) no one thought to post any #showustheduck offerings from PBS. Specifically, I was looking for this:

I like my culture accessible.

What the duck!

We totally need this story, considering the week we’ve been having—and with Friday still to come.

Because last week the Museum of English Rural Life in the UK quacked out a query to its fellow cultural institutions around the, er, web, soliciting, uh, duck pix. Just for ducks, I presume.

The whole thread is here, but I’ll start ruffling feathers by giving you a few of the responses to the call.

There was quite a GIF war between the National Railway Museum and the National Army Museum; you’ll have to go to the thread to see it, all I’ve got are these.

Also, this entry from the Getty sparked a discussion that you really need to follow. (Hint, a turducken made an appearance.)

Someone tried to sneak in a slow lorris being groomed with a toothbrush. Man, there’s always one in every flock.

We’ve got a science duck (remember the study of ocean currents done via a shipload of yellow ducks?):

And a sporting duck from South America:

Musée d’Orsay chimed in:

And so did the Louvre down the street:

I expect other museums will pile on, to defend local honor. And, as far as I’m concerned this thread has got 2019 off to a quacking good start.

Gratitude Monday: YouTube, baby

It’s been months—perhaps more than a year—since I last pulled out my DSLR to actually shoot. I use a pocket camera for all my on-the-fly photos—particularly the ones I take in traffic. The Canon is reasonably comfortable to use, and it fits in the pocket of my running sweats, although I really miss having a viewfinder. Having nothing but that screen means I’m guessing about what’s in the shot and what’s in focus when there’s glare.

But Autumn-Winter-Spring are prime photography seasons, and I decided I just needed to get back in practice. So I hauled out the Nikon, charged the battery and…stared at it.

Because I’ve been using what’s essentially a point-and-shoot for way too long.

So I did what everyone on the planet with connectivity and a problem would do: I consulted YouTube. And, glory be, I found all kinds of tutorials on how to use this model. I uncovered settings and functions that what Nikon is pleased to call user documentation never bothered with.

Now, look, I learned to shoot on a Nikon rangefinder (which inspired the name of this blog). No through-the-lens metering; I carried around a light meter to calculate appropriate settings. And I did not do badly with it. And for years, my Minolta SLR served me well—through-the-lens metering, but not a lot of other bells or whistles. When I decided to move into the digital age—ten years ago; I wanted to see if this whole thing had legs—I didn’t spend a lot of cycles on it. I did take one Nikon 101 class through Seattle’s Open University equivalent, but…

In my defense, I do not use the Nikon as a point-and-shoot; I typically set it either to Shutter or Aperture mode, not Don’t-Worry-Your-Pretty-Little-Head-Honey. But I’ve never pushed it.

However, YouTube had my back. In a couple of 20- to 30-minute sessions last weekend, I learned heaps—enough to head out yesterday in full Manual, and play around with a bunch of different functions.

And here’s the thing: whether it’s photography (or specific photographic equipment), cooking, home improvement, auto repair, whatever—there’s a multitude of YouTube videos to walk you through it. In the past month, I’ve checked out how to use the Instant Pot to make soup, what I need in order to mount hardware and hang curtains and how to fix a hissing toilet. Yes—as with everything on the Internet—you’ll find crackpots there, and I recommend checking out several “experts” to validate their instructions. But, man—what a resource.

So, today I’m grateful for YouTube’s how-to videos. Because of them, my first foray out into the neighborhood with the Nikon netted 100 photos, 94 of which are decent enough to keep. And I had a great time playing with the settings.

Here’s a keeper:

And here’s the one I completely overexposed—which I kind of like:

Now—maybe there are some videos for the Canon…

Do you care enough?

You know, given the events of this week—just the most recent abominations in the run-up to the mid-terms—I feel we could all use something different. So, have the latest recruiting video for New Zealand cops:

I say “latest”, because those clever clogs are known for creativity in online recruiting; here’s the one from last year:

You’ll want to watch all the way through the credits, especially for the exchange on this year’s video.

Now—get out there and vote.

They seek him here

Okay, well, y’all know about #PlaidShirtGuy—Tyler Linfesty, the Billings, Montana, high school kid who stole the kleptocrat’s specious rally last week. He was placed right behind His Orangeness on the stage and reacted as any sentient being would to the idiotic claptrap coming out of that puckered mouth.

Then he got booted from the stage (along with his friends, who weren’t as enthusiastic enough for the campaign team), interrogated by the Secret Service (seriously) and tossed out of the auditorium.

Linfesty was the hero of the hour, in a week that I’m betting Li’l Donny Two-scoops wishes never happened—what with Bob Woodward’s book and the anonymous self-styled resister in the White House’s op-ed in the New York Times. No wonder his minions couldn’t stomach having the high school kids up there.

Anyhow, I don’t know why there are not Zelig-like instances of #PlaidShirtGuy all over the Internet, but so far this is the only one I’ve found:

But speaking of the Goebbels of 1600, she apparently made the mistake of showing up for one of her lying turns in an outfit that provided the perfect green screen for projecting something appropriate (sorry—you have to click to see the video):

Wait for IT

😂😂😂😂 pic.twitter.com/AMBV7slGxA

— Maggie Resists Trump (@Stop_Trump20) September 10, 2018

And on that uplifting note, I’m out.

Battle cry of freedom

As you know, it’s Independence Day, and there’s a lot less comity than normal around what should be a national celebration. I mean, usually the most discord is about who was supposed to bring the potato salad to the picnic and why the hell are we swimming in blinkin’ cole slaw.

This year, it’s different. For example, on Monday certifiable RWNJ and tinfoil-hat supremo Alex Jones brayed a call to arms among his flabby-in-mind-and-body followers by announcing without a shred of either truth or shame that the dreaded Snowflakes of the Left are about to rise in insurrection.

Or, since “insurrection” has about two too many syllables for his adherents, here’s what he said:

Well, my fellow snowflakes—who previously devoted all their energy to squabbling about the virtues of Himalayan pink versus Fleur de Sel versus Black Hawaiian salt—have responded like the troupers they are, under those ethically-sourced, naturally-dyed hemp-based clothes.

On social media, of course.

Now, there are two general trends that have been crisscrossing Twitter ever since Jones opened his halitotic yap, #secondcivilwarletters and #civilwarpotluck. With a few outliers. So I’m just going to let We the People tweet for themselves.

The #civilwarpotluck was the first one I saw, started possibly by Aunt Crabby:

Tbh, I’m a little leery of tuna casserole in the summer months, but if we’re going civilwarring, we have to be willing to make sacrifices. But fortunately, hundreds more stepped up to the plate. (Some even volunteering to bring the plates!)

In case you're wondering, I was going to bring brownies, but the Colorado contingent got in ahead of me, so I just said I'd bring a few units of Chateau le Cardboard wine. I mean, everyone means well, but things could get rowdy and better to cut back on breakables, no?

But then there were the #secondcivilwarletters, styled after the ones made so famous in Ken Burns’ masterwork from (wow!) more than 20 years ago. Ah, the poignancy of those arrayed before Bowling Green, Hobby Lobby and places that will be enshrined in history books of the future—their thoughts, their fears, their hopes:

Lest you think all the letters are from only the left, here are a couple from the Redhats:

#Sad!

And here’s one special one:

Ah—#campfollowers.

Well, one can only read so many of these heart-wrenching missives before one must refill one’s glass of organic, fair trade chardonnay.

Just a couple of the flotsam and jetsam of war:

And one final, wistful thread:

Courage, comrades. We shall prevail as we did 153 years ago.

And 100 years ago.

And 73 years ago.

And 10 years ago.