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40 posts from January 2007

January 31, 2007

At the airport

I'm at the Perth airport. I'm a couple hours early for my flight, but I'd rather be early than late.


via flickr

I found a cafe here, and what looks like an open wireless network, though I'm not connected yet. Perhaps I'll be able to live blog my drinking coffee and waiting to board my flight, or maybe not.

Apparently not. Certainly not at $20 per day.

Not surprisingly, it's Young International Backpacker Central here tonight. I've heard half a dozen languages, and an abundance of henna tattoos on people wearing cargo shorts. I suppose the redeye flights are cheaper than others.

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January 30, 2007

On the Swan River


via flickr

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Deep questions

First, how many of the characters from Winnie the Pooh are edible?

Obviously, Piglet and Rabbit.

I think they eat bear in China.

I didn't know this until tonight, but it turns out that you can also eat kangaroo.


via flickr

I had kangaroo this evening at the Old Swan Brewery. It took a few minutes for my dinner-mates to convince me that this wasn't some trick they played on foreigners. But other than making me feel a greater kinship with gonzo carnivore Ted Nugent, it's pretty good. It reminds me of buffalo.

This leaves donkey, owl, and tiger, all of which I suspect are inedible.

Now the other big question: if the children ask, "Did you see any kangaroos?" what do I say? If I say "I ate some kangaroo," they'll think I'm a barbarian. If I say, "In a manner of speaking," they'll ask for details, and I suspect "On a plate, garnished with lettuce" won't go over well. I should probably say no, on the grounds that you don't see a cow every time you go to Burger King.

The tiger shrimp and squid were pretty good, too.


via flickr

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January 29, 2007

Feeling more human

After a couple pitchers of water and another round of revisions to my talks, I'm feeling more human. Maybe it's time to soak in the tub.

Part of me thinks it was nuts to get up so early, and that I should have just downed something from the minibar and gone back to bed. But I find I'm so wired when I'm on the road, and that this nervous energy is usually pretty productive, I figured it was worth the risk.

[To the tune of Bob Dylan & Grateful Dead, "Knockin' On Heaven's Door," from the album "Dylan & The Dead".]

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Awake

I woke up a little before 3 local time, and haven't been able to go back to sleep.

So I'm working on my talk, and drinking water to rehydrade myself (I'm still feeling the effects of the flights). I'll try to sleep a bit more between now and 6.

[To the tune of Steely Dan, "Home At Last," from the album "Citizen Steely Dan: 1972-1980".]

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January 28, 2007

Perth photoset up

It's created, though there's not that much in it yet.

Client just called. Must hop in a cab.

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In Perth

I've made it!


via flickr

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Continue reading "In Perth" »

Greetings from Virgin Blue 427 (pant pant)

I'm on my connecting flight to Perth. The rest of my flight to Sydney was fine, though we got in a little late, and I spent 40 minutes in customs and immigration, and took the wrong bus to the domestic terminal. Live and learn.

When I got to the domestic terminal, I was told I could go ahead and check my bag to Perth, rather than put it in a locker for a few hours while I made my little pilgrimage to the Sydney Opera House. So I got in the check-in line. When I got up there, confusion resulted. They couldn't find me on the 1:25 p.m. flight, even though my ticket clearly said that I was on it. For some reason, I HAD BEEN RE-BOOKED ON THE 9:55 A.M., WHICH IS LEAVING IN 5 MINUTES YOU'D BETTER HURRY TO THE GATE.

So no Sydney Opera House for this architecture buff.

I did in fact make it, and even got a decent seat. An aisle seat, anyway. This being a low-fare airline, there's no business class, so I'm stuck in coach for the next 4 hours, and have to pay for my Diet Coke (which tastes subtly different from American Diet Coke, but a lot like English Diet Coke).

However, it means I get a few extra hours in Perth, and it also has the real virtue of eliminating any possible distractions and forcing me to focus on my work. I've flown too far to do merely a good job. I want to blow them away.

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Greetings from UAL 863

I'm on the plane, a few hundred miles east of Hawaii. And I've got power. After a mad dash this afternoon, I got an adapter that will work with my Powerbook on a plane. (Business class offers power at your seat, but you need a special adapter to draw any juice. Kind of a pain.)

It's too cool.

I watched The Departed, which is a loose remake of one of my favorite movies, Infernal Affairs (in fact, I have IA in my backpack, ready for viewing after my meetings are over. It turns out that in many small and some substantial ways, The Departed is pretty different from Infernal Affairs: lots of details have been changed, some of the scenes have been scrambled around, the pacing's different, and the female character is more substantial. So it's a different movie, and very well-done: Gangs of New York was an exuberant mess, but this is tight, intense storytelling. The incredible violence, the amazing performances by Dicaprio and Damon (and yes, Jack is great, but he's always great), the nonstop profanity.... It's fucking poetic. If it doesn't score several Oscars, including the long-elusive best director award, I'll be really, really disappointed.

I miss my family, I know flying isn't good for the environment (carbon ton per carbon ton, it's considerably worse than driving). Still, I love to travel. But I also get to go home, which makes it the best of all worlds.

[To the tune of Fleetwood Mac, "What Makes You Think You're The One," from the album "The Very Best of Fleetwood Mac".]

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Eight hours down, five to go

We're near the international dateline, about midway between Sydney and Hawaii.

Some bits of the flight have been choppy, but overall it hasn't been bad. I slept some, but my internal clock now thinks it's now 7:30-- time to get up and make breakfast for the kids, and finish packing up their lunches (I do some of it the night before).

Having power on the plane is a good thing. I was getting pretty tired of the classic rock station on the airplane radio, and need to tweak the scripts for my presentation.

[To the tune of Yes, "Machine Messiah," from the album "Drama".]

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Just past Nadi, Fiji

Ten hours into the flight. I can see deep red on the horizon to the east.

For the last couple hours I've been sitting on the floor, with the laptop on the seat or tray table, depending on how I need to stretch my legs. The person sitting beside me probably thinks I'm nuts, but I can't sit in a seat for 13 hours. It's just impossible.


via flickr

I did one very smart thing this trip: I brought my travel mug. This means the number of trips to the galley for coffee are cut in half, and if we hit choppy weather, I'm less likely to spill my drink. After a couple bad experiences having to sit for a couple hours on coffee I'd spilled, I've become very fastidious about my seat space. Nothing makes you pay attention to where your drinks are than having had to wear one across the Atlantic....

I could get used to this whose business class thing. Too bad I probably won't have that chance.

[To the tune of Fleetwood Mac, "Big Love (Live '97)," from the album "The Very Best of Fleetwood Mac".]

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January 27, 2007

Our lives, mobile version

So I'm sitting in the lounge, typing away on my Powerbook, with my Adium and Entourage windows open, listening to my iTunes. I decided to bring my travel mug with me this time, as it's nice and big, and well, good for travel.

Essentially, I can talk to everyone I normally talk to, listen to the music I usually listen to, do the work I usually do. I even packed some of my favorite movies.

Could it be that we're becoming too good at constructing these bubbles around ourselves? People complain about being able to go to a Starbucks anywhere in the world. But are we now creating personal versions of this phenomena?

One change for me: I'm not wearing my totemic all-black outfit, because it's the middle of summer in Australia (what's that about?), and my black 511 Tactical shirt would give me heatstroke. So I've switched to the lightweight khaki model. It's still the same shirt, with the awesome pockets that hold absolutely everything. I wouldn't get on a flight without it.

[To the tune of Yes, "Siberian Khatru," from the album "Close to the Edge".]

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Australia travel times

If memory serves, while visiting Australia aboard the HMS Rattlesnake, Thomas Henry Huxley got engaged. It took another seven years after he returned to England before he could bring his fiancee to London, and actually get married.

Of all the things that's different about travel now, I think the ways we experience separation, and the ways geographical distance do and don't translate into emotional experience, have changed the most in the last century or two.

[To the tune of Yes, "Close to the Edge," from the album "Close to the Edge".]

Once again, greetings from the Red Carpet Lounge

I'm in SFO, waiting for my flight to Sydney. Sydney, Australia. I've settled into the Red Carpet Lounge, as is my habit before (or during) overseas trips.

Australia. I haven't really focused on that part of the trip, partly because it's relatively short, but I've never been to Australia. And it's very far away.

I'd meant to reread some of Bernard Lewis' European Vision and the South Pacific before leaving, but didn't get around to it: too much else to do. The Victorians I studied would have been disappointed: they found the time to read up before a trip.

I'm flying on to Perth via Virgin Blue, and apparently they don't have one of those check-your-suitcase-on-through-to-your-destination arrangements with United. The woman checking me was apologetic, but since it pretty much guarantees that I'll 1) have to go from the International to the Domestic terminals, and 2) this'll give me a chance to spend a few hours in Sydney, I'm actually quite pleased.

I have no idea how my body is going to handle this flight. My body knows what to do when I go to Europe, but this is pretty alien-- not to mention several hours longer than flights to Heathrow. We'll just have to see how it goes. Since I feel like I can do some good work on planes, and since I've got a lot of work to do, my instinct is to push as hard as I can, then see what happens. I've got plenty of slack in my schedule to sleep when I need to.

[To the tune of Yes, "Hearts," from the album "90125".]

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Gymnastics

I'm leaving for Australia tonight, for a two-day gig in Perth. This morning, however, I'm at my son's gymnastics class, hanging out at the table with all the other multitasking dads. There are two with laptops, two having what look like very serious conversations on their phones, another typing a BlackBerry. A typical Saturday morning at the Burgess Recreation Center.

I've been taking my kids to these gymnastic class for five years now. My daughter went to her first class here at 18 months, and for several years, the shape of my entire weekend was defined by the fact that we were forced out of the house by a Saturday 9 a.m. class. We'd drive (or sometimes bike) here, then afterwards would go over to Cafe Barrone (for a snack) and Keplers (for story time).

Now, the kids' activities schedules are starting to diverge: there are fewer concurrent lessons, and she's getting into things that he wouldn't have any interest in, like ballet and Brownies. It means more juggling schedules and travel, but at least I'm saved from the temptation of the bakery display at Barrone.

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January 25, 2007

And I thought performance reviews here could be tough...

This from Shanghaiist (via burn.dk):

A number of employees of a south China factory have been fired after refusing to sign guarantees in which they have to declare they are "sons of a beast" if they break their commitments to the company, reported Guangzhou-based Yangcheng Evening News.

The company in Shenzhen city, whose name was not fully revealed in the newspaper report, requires it employees to sign written pledges that contain more than 30 articles including "loyalty to the factory" and "be respectful to superiors."

The fifteenth article has caused the most controversy. It requires applicants to swear that if they break any of the articles they are "chu sheng" or 'born by a beast' which usually refers to a farm animal. The curse is serious in Chinese language.

[To the tune of Bruce Cockburn, "Maybe the Poet," from the album "Stealing Fire (Deluxe Edition)".]

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January 23, 2007

Faces of tomorrow

This past weekend, I took my parents and brother out to dinner in downtown Palo Alto. My brother lives in New York, and so is no stranger to diverse urban populations; nonetheless, at one point he asked me, "Is it really the case that every child we've seen here has been part Asian?"

I thought so. "Why do you think I live here, man?" This is a place where my kids can default to the assumption that everyone is "half from" somewhere else.

Amazingly, despite this cultural variety and combination, no city in California shows up on The Face of Tomorrow, a project that creates composite faces that illustrate the ethnic makeup of different cities. As the artist explains,

In each city I take 100 photos of people in one specific location. I then divide these into male and female and from these I make a composite face. I am not interested in whether a person was born in that place, whether they are a citizen or whether they are simply a tourist. Everyone who is in that place represents the future potential face of that place. In this way the Face of Tomorrow is like a census. A snapshot of a place at a moment in time. The present and the future.

Of course, 100 people isn't a very big sample size, and the "face" can be skewed by location: in a shoot outside the Tate Museum in London, "[t]here were no West Indians nor any Africans although both these groups are well represented in the larger population," and "over half the people were tourists – primarily from Europe and North America." Still, it's a very interesting concept.

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Got my visa. Now WHAT kind of electrical plug do I need?

I just got my visa to go to Australia (an event that turned out to be an illustration of how the Internet can make the physical world not irrelevant, but easier to navigate). Amazingly easy stuff.

Now I just need to figure out power plugs, change money, pack, and figure out if I can do anything during my layover in Sydney. Oh, and write a couple talks, of course.

Fortunately, I don't leave until Saturday night, which means I probably have time to do all this.

Alas, it'll be History's Shortest Trip to Australia: I'm arriving in Perth Monday afternoon, working Tuesday and Wednesday, then leaving Thursday morning 1 a.m.-- which seems to be when flights leave Perth for The Rest of the World. Fortunately, my visa is good for a year, so if I have a chance to go back....

And I've been working on a giant project proposal that, if approved, will allow me to do some serious traveling, in the name of research. (It feels a bit like that Far Side cartoon where the spiders have stretched a web across the bottom of a playground slide, and one is saying to the other, "If we pull this off, we'll eat like kings;" but in all seriousness I think it's important subject, and one I'm very passionate about.)

I've got a 5-hour layover in Sydney on the way to Perth, and an 8-hour layover on the way back; and according to the Sydney airport Web site, it's a 15-minute train ride from the airport to downtown. So maybe I'll get to see a little bit of that city, too. I should look for a map.

[To the tune of Yoshinori Sunahara, "Cross Wind Take Off," from the album "Take Off and Landing".]

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The dangers of linear extrapolation

Bruce Reed on 2008 presidential candidates:

If Republicans and Democrats maintain their current January pace (12 entries in 22 days), each party will have more than 100 presidential candidates by the Iowa caucuses.

[To the tune of Pat Metheny Group, "San Lorenzo," from the album "Travels (Disc 2)".]

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January 22, 2007

Family picture

My dad and brother were out here this weekend, to celebrate my son's fifth birthday. It's not often we're all together-- my dad's a professor in Colorado, and my brother is an acupuncturist in New York (the 21st century equivalent of having a doctor in the family)-- so it was especially pleasant.

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January 21, 2007

A handy guide to manipulating science

Jonathan Chait piece in The New Republic on the work of economist Alan Reynolds, and his efforts to challenge claims that income disparity between rich and poor has increased. Chait argues that there's a clear strategic pattern between his work, the rhetorical battles of the intelligence design movement, and global warming skeptics. Reynolds' role is to get "newspapers treat the question as a matter of dispute rather than a settled fact."

If this sounds like the conservative stance on global warming or evolution, it shouldn't come as a surprise. Like those two issues, the existence of rising inequality is beyond dispute among academics who study it.... [T]he ambition of the conservative counterestablishment in these areas is not to overturn the scholarly consensus but simply to make the topic appear so complicated that laypeople and the press don't know what to believe.

But whether the missing data would make inequality look worse or better is really beside the point. Reynolds's role is merely to point out that the data is imperfect. The skeptic challenging the expert consensus must be fluent enough in the language of the experts to nibble away at their data. (The evolution skeptic can find holes in the fossil record; the global-warming skeptic can find periods of global cooling.) But he need not--indeed, he must not--be fluent enough to assimilate all the data himself into a coherent alternative explanation. His point is that the truth is unknowable.

Introducing ideology into a debate is one of the think-tank hack's strongest weapons. It demystifies a complicated issue, moving it from the realm of science into the realm of politics. The think-tank hack confesses he has his biases but then claims that his opponents in academia or government do, too. Evolution is the secularist science establishment's campaign to discredit religion; global warming is being pushed by regulators who would gain enormous power from new pollution controls; et cetera.

Since the goal is not winning these debates but merely achieving symmetry, the hack's most effective technique can be taking the accusation that would seem to apply to him and hurling it at his opponents. "The politically correct yet factually incorrect claim that the top 1 [percent] earns 16 [percent] of personal income appears to fill a psychological rather than logical need," Reynolds writes in the [Wall Street] Journal. "Some economists seem ready and willing to supply whatever is demanded." So, while you might think Reynolds is a hack mining the data for results that would conform to his political preferences, he has already made the same charge against the other side. Who can tell who's right?

Essentially, this comes down to a few basic moves:

  1. Cast whatever doubt you can about the level of certainty your opponents' views deserve. If you have to take what insiders regard as normal technical disagreements and turn them into proof that "the science is still unclear," so be it.
  2. Encourage the press to generate the appearance of a controversy.
  3. Argue that since there's a controversy, prudence demands 1) waiting for more solid science before making a final decisions, or 2) letting people make up their own minds.

This is the intellectual equivalent of guerilla warfare. You don't have to win. If you can not lose decisively, you can claim a moral victory. If you can keep the battle going, you increase the odds that the other wide will give up.

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January 20, 2007

Heat again

My wife went to bed early tonight, so after the kids were asleep, I did what I often do when I'm alone at night: get out edits to an article, and put on Michael Mann's great movie Heat. Having recently watched Miami Vice (which I thought was totally brilliant), and having spent a long week banging out several proposals for new projects, I was in the mood for something stylish and diverting.

I always like Heat, but I noticed two things about it-- and more generally, about Mann's work-- this time around.

First, Mann has a terrific ear. Yes, he made Jan Hammer a household name in the 1980s, but despite that, his choice of music for his movies is inspired. I was impressed with the soundtrack to Miami Vice, and the choice of Moby's "God Moving Over the Face of the Waters" at the end of Heat turns an already-strong ending into one of the most amazing movie finales ever.

Second, while Heat, Collateral, and Miami Vice are very much guy movies, what with all the guns and cars and attention to the fine technical details of criminal and police procedure, Mann places tremendous weight on his female characters-- and they come through. None of the women in Heat have happy lives, but when you're working with Diane Venora, Amy Brenneman, and Natalie Portman, they're never merely Symbols of The Evil That Men Do: they're too good to let their characters collapse into single dimensions. Their work is all the more impressive given how little screen time they actually have, and how economically they have to communicate everything that's going on with them: Portman's three brief, wrenching scenes have more emotional complexity than Star Wars I-III, and in her last scene, Brenneman manages to communicate an immense amount of confusion and turmoil just standing still. Really amazing.

Back to editing. Maybe I'll cue up Infernal Affairs next.

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January 18, 2007

Under the sea

My son has a little foam sea anemone-like ball. It's orange, and last night he took it to bed.

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Under a blue night light it was strangely... at home. Not to mention amazingly bright.

[To the tune of Bruce Hornsby, "The Show Goes On," from the album "Scenes From the Southside".]

Britannica's secret history of applications development

EBGal reports that the Britannica Firefox plugin that I wrote about a few days ago is actually 18 months old. Clearly I'm behind the curve, though I'm not sure how easy these things are to find. "I guess we need to do a better job promoting that sort of thing," she writes.

Unfortunately, there have been a couple cool little apps that Britannica has created, but which never got good press. Not long after eBlast (of blessed memory) got off the ground, there appeared a little app that consisted of: a search box. You typed in a query, it performed a search against the Britannica database, and it opened a browser window with the results. It may even have sat on the Windows icon bar, always available.

It was totally brilliant, a widget before there were widgets. It was simple, accessible, and made accessing Britannica amazingly simple. And it withered.

The moral of the story isn't just that Britannica has been better at dreaming up apps than leveraging them. This kind of thing matters because making your content easy to search is now one big key-- perhaps the biggest key-- to getting people to use it. This was driven home to me when I sat in on Geoff Nunberg and Paul Duguid's class at Berkeley this past fall, and we were talking about why students used Wikipedia rather than Britannica. A bunch of them admitted that it was just easier to query Wikipedia because they didn't have to surf to it, or deal with logins: eliminating one or two clicks meant a lot to them. (They also had various rationalizations for why the cultural authority of peer review was dead, etc.)

And these weren't technological illiterates, either: they were Ph.D. students in information science, computer science, and psychology. Very savvy kids.

That's why getting a Firefox search plugin may look like a little thing (and is, in terms of development time), but is very big. In this kind of world, you can't assume that people will find their way to you, or that a little bit of typing won't make the difference between choosing you, and choosing a competitor.

Though perhaps the moral of the eBlast search widget story should be that Britannica has been better at dreaming up apps than leveraging them. Turns out there's an app called Refmaker which generates URLs to Britannica articles. It's another completely under-the-radar object: I Google "britannica+refmaker," and find one blog post about it. It's not on the tools page, though technically it's not really a search tool; however, it should be mentioned somewhere on the Britannica site.

My worry is that this kind of institutional silence reflects an organizational confusion about how to classify and market such tools; and usually, organizations don't do a very good job of capitalizing on things that confuse them.

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January 17, 2007

A handy definition of technological determinism

You can put away your tin foil hats, the Guardian reports: a British company claims to have developed a cream that blocks radio signals.

Waves from televisions, mobile phones and radios are all around us. They pass through metres of concrete, so imagine what they're doing to your skin.

Clarins reckon they have something to help. It's Expertise 3P, "an ultra-sheer screen mist containing a pioneering combination of plant extracts capable of protecting the skin from the accelerated-ageing effects of all indoor and outdoor air pollution but, most significantly, the effects of Artificial Electromagnetic Waves."...

One of the [active] ingredients, thermos thermophilus, comes from 2,000m deep in the ocean. The other, rhodiola rosea, lives in the extreme cold of Siberia....

Michael Bluck, an engineer at Imperial College, sounds distinctly unconvinced.... If you were intent on stopping the waves, Bluck explains that you could scatter them with a fine mesh of metal or absorb them - although the energy would be converted to heat, which would cook your skin.

But what about the ocean ingredients that prevented ageing in lab tests? "Presumably there's not a lot in the way of electromagnetic waves, particularly artificial ones, down in the bottom of the ocean, so why the organisms should have evolved this capability is beyond me," says Bluck.

His advice for anyone worried about EM radiation? "Live as far away from the producers of EM waves as possible and live with the consequences of having no friends and no life," he says.

Back to Chuck E Cheese

We went to Chuck E Cheese tonight for my son's birthday dinner. Since it was a weekday evening, it was quite a bit calmer than it is on the weekends, when I've usually gone.

Still, despite the slightly mellower atmosphere and the fact that my kids are older, so I can let them roam about with greater confidence, my old impression of the place still stands: it still feels unnecessarily designed to make it hard to keep track of your children. I get that it's not day care, and it's perfectly clear that it's about as hard for kids to resist as crack; but it strikes me that the games, exits, and seating area could be designed to make it a lot easier for parents to see their kids while they're playing.

Having a more structured set of entrances to the play areas, arranging the seating so that it forms a perimeter around the games, and having more windows in the tunnels: these wouldn't cut into the company's profits, or the kids' enjoyment, even while they increase parent comfort levels.

I'll bet some architecture students could take this on as a design exercise, and come up with something imaginative, economical, and far superior to the present design.

Some parents deal with the whole ambiance by finding other things to do, like working on spreadsheets while their kids ate:

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I suspect the parents aren't the only ones occasionally overwhelmed by it all: the kid check was deserted when we left.

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Nice Andy Warhol reference, though. That's cool.

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Happy birthday!

My son turned five today. Its also Ben Franklin's birthday, and James Earl Jones'.

Franklin founded my alma mater, and James Earl Jones is the voice of one of my son's favorite movie characters. So it all fits together.

January 11, 2007

My son's first YouTube experience

Last night, as he was going to bed, my son was trying to remember the names of the Beatles. (He's a big Beatles fan.)

So I fired up YouTube, and found their performance of "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" on the Ed Sullivan Show.

Sometimes I love the Internet.

[To the tune of Led Zeppelin, "Whole Lotta Love," from the album "Box Set (Disc 1)".]

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January 10, 2007

Turns out hope IS a plan after all!

Apparently Colin Powell was also wrong about the "you break it, you buy it" policy.

[To the tune of R.E.M. and Muppets, "Shiny Happy People (Furry Happy Monsters)," from the album "Songs From The Street: 35 Years Of Music".]

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Economics, the new literary theory

When I was in graduate school in the late 1980s, literary theory was just taking off as the Cool Thing To Do. The New York Times reports that "the future of economics isn't so dismal":

[E]conomists have been acting a lot like intellectual imperialists in the last decade or so. They have been using their tools — mainly the analysis of enormous piles of data to tease out cause and effect — to examine everything from politics to French wine vintages....

I did an informal poll of about 20 senior economists around the country and asked a single question: who are the young (untenured) economists doing work that is both highly respected among experts and relevant to the rest of us? Who, in other words, is the future of economics?

Thirteen names came up more than once, and I’m sure a scientific survey would have produced a longer list. As it is, though, the list is incredibly diverse.

I love this detail:

[T]he least diverse aspect of the list of 13... may be the way that its members have chosen their mates. Six of them are married to another person in the group.

[To the tune of Marshall Crenshaw, "Whenever You're on My Mind," from the album "Field Day".]

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January 09, 2007

A resolution for 2007

To add to "lose 50 pounds" and "finish The End of Cyberspace," my two big resolutions for this year: stop accepting requests to referee papers. Just. Say. No.

My wife is working on her book tonight (and with a February deadline, that's definitely a good thing), while I'm taking an hour or two and writing up a reader's report of an article someone sent me this summer. I meant to finish the review sooner, really I did.

Reviewing a paper is one of those things that you always think won't be much work, but then turns out to be a problem: either it is more work than you expect, or you get to be the sand in the gears of scholarly publishing and some poor soul's professional advancement by having the piece sit on your desk for a lot longer than you mean.

Then you pile other stuff on top of it, because it's been there so long, it makes you feel guilty to even see it. You you ca