I will not be pigeonholed

It had to happen. It was simply inevitable. Last Wednesday night, May 25, 2006, I went on the regular post-work Long Island 38-mile club ride, which just resumed in April. And at mile 30 I tried to make a left turn at around 20 mph in a small, quiet intersection. There was some sand and gravel, and I wiped out. Naturally, I quickly got up and moved the bike away from the road.

I remember a series of images of cyclists huddled around me, me protesting that I’ll ride back to the parking lot on my own, and a lady in an SUV handing me some baby wipes out of a yellow canister.

It had to happen. It was simply inevitable. Last Wednesday night, May 25, 2006, I went on the regular post-work Long Island 38-mile club ride, which just resumed in April. And at mile 30 I tried to make a left turn at around 20 mph in a small, quiet intersection. There was some sand and gravel, and I wiped out. Naturally, I quickly got up and moved the bike away from the road.

I remember a series of images of cyclists huddled around me, me protesting that I’ll ride back to the parking lot on my own, and a lady in an SUV handing me some baby wipes out of a yellow canister.

Next thing I know I’m staring at the top of an ambulance’s interior, lying on a board and wearing a neck brace. A male paramedic asked me to remember three items, “baseball,” “car,” and “house,” which I later recalled to him correctly but with some hesitation. The female paramedic was cutting my shorts to have a look at the road rash. I only made two requests: that it was her handling me and not the guy, and that she be firm, but gentle. The entire day — nay, the previous several months — seemed like a big blur to me. I had difficulty remembering the year, where I lived, or whether or not I was married. When I was asked my date of birth I gave it instinctively but wondered to myself if that really was my date of birth. As if another cognizant being was representing me, and me only watching events through thick, semi-translucent plexiglas. Is that what they call an out-of-body experience?

Two days ago I found out from Glen, one of the cyclists, that it took all of 15 minutes for the ambulance to get to the scene. Glen said that I was conscious throughout. I only recall a few seconds of that period. Stacey thinks it may have been a mild case of post-traumatic amnesia.

By the time they wheeled me into Room 1 of the ER at Huntington Hospital (5 minutes from where the spill took place), I already came to. I knew what happened. The admissions nurse came by and asked a few questions about allergies and personal history. A male nurse started sticking needles. He drew two blood samples for lab tests, inserted an IV catheter, and attached EKG leads to my chest and arms. Another nurse administered a tetanus shot. I only realized that I was hooked up to “the Matrix” some time later. The nurse also covered me with a blanket, either to keep me warm, or to prevent me from boasting my cycling thighs to hapless passersby, only slightly covered by shredded lycra shorts. The emergency doctor started to look at the wounds. Apparently, he didn’t think they were too serious because he quickly left. I mostly suffered a slight sting from the road rash and a pretty sore left shoulder.

The doctor ordered X-rays and a CT scan. He said that I’ll be wearing the neck brace until the tests clear. He was worried that I may have broken some bones. I was worried about Stacey. There she is, an hour away. She expects me home at around 8:30 on Wednesdays, since I usually finish the ride by 7:30 plus the additional commute to the Bronx. The phones in the rooms were not enabled for long-distance calls. So I finally made a big-enough fuss and the nurse wheeled me to the Nurses’ Station so I can place a long-distance call.

It took me about 5 minutes to convince Stacey that I’m in the ER and that I wasn’t actually kidding. She quickly recruited her sister to drive down with her to Long Island to come get me. The doctor already gave me some Percocets and thought it would be a bad idea to drive home alone.

Meanwhile, I was wheeled to Radiology for a cranial CT scan. The technician, hearing about my cycling mishap, introduced himself as an triathlete. He peered under the blanket, and shamelessly accused me of being a phony, since true cyclists shave their legs. We shared a laugh. Everyone was really nice.

They finally discharged me at 11pm. Stacey said I looked pretty bad with the neck brace and the scrapes. The doc took off the neck brace. He prescribed some Vicodin for the shoulder and told me to dress the wounds with fresh gauze every day. I left the hospital wearing torn shorts, my left arm in a sling, and a nice healthy road rash on my left side. I may have looked like I emerged from a war zone, but I felt like a million bucks (thank you, Percocet).

The big question always remained: where the hell is my bike? I found out from Glen that a woman that lived at the intersection was gracious enough to store the bike in a locked shed until I could pick it up. I called her up and arranged to pick it up when I’m back on the Island. In retrospect, it was good not having the bike. It prevented me from doing something stupid over the weekend like ride it (I had planned to do a nice hilly century in Hudson Valley). I also did a little post-mortem on my helmet. Despite the side impact, it had a nice set of cracks that indicate that it absorbed most of the impact and potentially saved me from something worse. A replacement helmet should now be en route from PerformanceBike.

So now, five days later, I’m recovering pretty nicely. The scrapes have scabbed and I may look worse than I feel. I might have to go for physical therapy for my left shoulder, but it’s improving rapidly. Let’s just say, the Vicodin more than made up for the pain.

I don’t know how long it will be before I ride a bike again (days, not weeks), but I can’t wait to get back on. This was the first time I was ever admitted into the ER, the first time I was driven to the hospital in ambulance. And it was… pretty cool. It was, I’m surprised to say, a positive experience.

Technorati Tags: bicycling, emergency room

The centrality of the web browser as a surfing medium has been very cyclic over the years. The utility and interface of prehistoric browsers such as NCSA Netscape 4 and Internet Explorer 4 was very static and limited, but they served as the main portal to the world-wide web. Many advanced users would nevertheless resort to shell-based connectivity, such as Telnet for basic internet services (e.g. IRC, mail, news). Then came dynamic HTML and Javascript, which provided some user interactivity. But with the advent of XML and web services, people began thinking outside the box, even contemplating the end of HTML. The birth of fourth generation browsers like Firefox, Safari, and Opera, did not tickle users’ fancy, despite the fact that they incorporated and espoused web services principles. Some technologists even called for the end of the web browser. Those fears, though, stemmed from a failure to separate the idea of web development from web browser development. Modern browsers have, for a long time, enabled advanced functionality. That’s why so many people were blown away when Google Maps did their magic right on their trusty ol’ browsers. Ajax and the Web 2.0 revolution have since been reasserting the web browser as a prime medium not only for web surfing, but for general applications. With ubiquitous internet connections, there is even an argument over whether the browser will replace the desktop.

But the truth is that, with RSS and other XML web services, the user web experience is gradually becoming more decentralized. Delivered content is no longer tied to its presentation. The end-user can decide how, and when, to view it. Web services have enabled this decentralization a long time ago. It has just taken this long for specific implementations to realize this. There are now countless applications, big and small, that deliver downloaded content in one form or another, right over HTTP.

For example, on my Mac I’ve been using NetNewsWire Lite as an RSS reader. It is a great app that aggregates blog and news feeds into one interface. I can read content on-demand, and offline. One terrific usage is the ability to subscribe to RSS feeds of custom Google News. So I get news about Lance Armstrong instantly delivered right to my door step, whenever it is reported. Listening and subscribing to podcasts through iTunes is another realization of web services at work.

But I think the finest example of the decentralized user experience is desktop widgets. The most popular flavors are Apple’s Dashboard (which I use) and Yahoo! Widgets Engine. These applications deliver custom content in cute little, well, widgets. The technology is built on web services and the interface is provided in HTML. While in its infancy, I think that the widget framework has a huge potential. With existing widget support for Ajax, it could conceivably replace web browsers altogether.

The strides being made with Ajax and Web 2.0 are nevertheless establishing the web browser as an extremely essential component in the user-experience. Presentation of content is still very important, and website designers have gone to great lengths to provide simple and beautiful webpages. Sites like Technorati.com, Digg.com, and the brand-spankin’-new Zillow.com, are reason enough why the browser is not going away anytime soon.

Technorati Tags: software, internet, web, ajax, xml, rss, web 2.0, mac, netnewswire lite, widgets

I have to admit that I quite enjoyed Munich the first time around, and didn’t understand why so many Jews and Israel-sympathizers found it troubling. Granted, it had a very confused and confusing climactic scene. To be honest, I didn’t pay much attention to the political commentary being advanced by Tony Kushner through Spielberg’s handicraft. Even though the movie explored how political assassinations blur the difference between right and wrong, I approached the movie with a moral clarity and exited the theater with the same clarity unwavered. No human being can deny that killing, whether of innocent or criminals, shakes one’s foundations. It’s not a deed to be taken lightly. And Spielberg is known for portraying characters exploding with emotion. So for me, I sympathize with Avner when he is questioning his actions. Not on a global political scale but rather on a personal level. After all, he could have easily been portrayed by Jean-Claude Van Damme, instead of Eric Bana, if he were to simply be a mean killing machine.

My good friend Dan, who probably thinks I’ve been metamorphosed into a bleeding-heart leftist and who refuses to see Munich, is almost shocked that I enjoyed it. I tried to explain that it’s a well-made action thriller.

But then this changed my mind entirely. Understanding Kushner’s perspective truly casts the entire movie in another light, and also explains the climactic scene, essentially rendering it even more disturbing than it already is. Curiously, situating his radical views between the recent Hamas victory and the Palestinian reaction to the Danish cartoons makes the underlying thesis of the movie even more myopic. I think I owe Dan an explanation.

Technorati Tags: movies, israel, terror, spielberg, munich

This year’s Academy Award nominations are yet another indication that Hollywood is becoming out of touch with the movie-going public. Not to suggest that the movie-going public is this rational, logical animus. But there is definitely an air of superficial arrogance that separates the Hollywood elite from the rest of us. And it all becomes apparent at the Oscars. I’m not referring to all the banal skirmishes, waged by both sides, over social issues that the nominated movies foist or don’t.

I’m referring to some pretty darn good movies that have hardly been given a mere Oscar nod. They include, among others, Batman Begins, Star Wars III, King Kong, and Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (ironically, these are all sequels or remakes, but that’s another story). Yes, they’re all blockbusters, and all have huge budgets. But that doesn’t detract from their artistic values. For all their flaws, they’re beautiful, captivating films. They might not be as complex and deep as others, but then the Best Screenplay category covers that.

But rather than diving into a lengthy diatribe about the Oscar spaceship, I’ll address one category where this haughtiness is clearly evident and which I’m really passionate about: filmscores. This year’s nominations for Best Original Score are:

BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN (Gustavo Santaolalla)
THE CONSTANT GARDENER (Alberto Iglesias)
MEMOIRS OF A GEISHA (John Williams)
MUNICH (John Williams)
PRIDE & PREJUDICE (Dario Marianelli)

I own both of the John Williams scores, and they’re wonderful. I only heard excerpts of the other 3 and they’re just flat-out boring (you too can give them a listen at Amazon). The Brokeback Mountain nomination was obviously the Academy’s jumping on the Brokeback Bandwagon, as the score itself is repetitive and unimaginative. As are the other two.

But more to the point, there is a whole slew of great scores from 2005 that should have been considered instead. The superb scores to the blockbusters mentioned earlier are a few examples.

My favorite score of 2005 is Hans Zimmer’s and James Newton Howard’s collaboration on Batman Begins, which got some flak for lacking a main theme. In my opinion, it’s the absence of a theme that makes this score stand out above the others. It’s minimalist, fresh, and unique. I listen to it constantly.

As for Star Wars: Episode III, it is by far my favorite of the six Star Wars scores: emotionally charged, powerful, dark, and mature. Episodes IV, V, and VI have all gotten nominations (Williams won an Oscar for The Empire Strikes Back). But this one, nada. How is it even possible to consider any of this year’s pitiful, non-Williams, nominations over Star Wars???

I just don’t get it. There are many other great scores from 2005 that could have made it, including Danny Elfman’s The Corpse Bride, Harry Gregson-Williams’ The Chronicles of Narnia and Kingdom of Heaven, and Julian Nott’s Wallace and Gromit. Snubbing these scores just indicates that the nominators have some sort of ulterior agenda, and that quality of score and its relevance to the film aren’t factors in their decisions. The nominations are more a nod to non-traditional scores by independent composers. But it stems from an uneducated, elitist conceit that in fact pervades the rest of the Hollywood establishment.

As a note, Dan Goldwasser at Soundtrack.net discusses this on his podcast.

Technorati Tags: Academy Award, Hollywood, Oscars, movies, sequels, remakes, filmscores

Ever notice that Mercedes cars operate in a different physical dimension? I have a sneaking suspicion that those ingenious German automakers have installed some kind of paranormal module in the chasse, a flux capacitor of sorts. Okay, okay, I’m getting all conspiratorial here, but let’s consider this for a moment.

The Mercedes can create, ex nihilo — as if by spontaneous combustion, parking spots. A parking lot may have twenty spots per aisle, but the resourceful Benz driver will create a twenty-first space. And right across from the Starbucks or, more appropriately, Morton’s Steakhouse. Mysteriously, they never create spots on the far side of the lot. Additionally, these newly-fashioned spots are usually two cars in length, so as to prevent other well-to-dos from interfering with their mystical creation. Fascinating. Indeed, some may argue that these omnipotent vehicles are higher deities.

A Mercedes, equipped with a “fluxury” capacitor (like that?), can travel through time. I have discerned a consistent time shift between traffic signals and the reaction of these opulent entities. When a traffic light turns green, it’s usually a good 5 seconds, give or take, before the car starts moving. Strange. Conversely, when a traffic light turns red, it’s about the same time &mdash 5 seconds, give or take — before a Mercedes even appears to react, i.e. stop. Crossing traffic may have already released the brake pedal (the non-Mercedes species among them, at least). Yet, magically, Mercedeses have that cushion of time. They just gracefully glide through the intersection. For us lesser beings that’s called “running a red light.” But, really, for a Mercedes it’s just a time shift. Everything just slides forward 5 seconds, give or take.

Signaling. Or lack thereof. Okay, this is where my theory falls apart a bit. I think those Germans have a slight flaw in the design of their device. But I bet the module is supposed to signal telepathically to other motorists when a Mercedes intends to turn or change lanes, as opposed to relying on antiquated visual cues. Obviously, they have decided not to install the more traditional directional signal you’d find in earthly cars. I’ve just never seen a Mercedes signal. Anyway, I’m sure this component is in alpha and that they’re working on getting an operational product out on the road soon.

Although it is evident that the Mercedes defies laws of physics, it can also suspend civic laws. Have you ever seen a Benz pulled over by a state trooper? I haven’t. If you have, it must have been a mistake. I’m sure the offending officer is right now on leave without pay. These cars can travel at whole-number multiples of the current speed limit, use the H.O.V. lane with no passengers, or conduct captivating cell phone conversations, hands…ful. And at all times confident that no one dares pull them over.

Indeed, the Mercedes seems protected by a police-repellant shell. Could be that the fluxury capacitor renders the car invisible to police. The glitzy aura of the Mercedes is certainly visible to earthly motorists (doesn’t it just seem to exude a sense of luxury and self-entitlement?). Perhaps the module just emits some hallucinogenic spray that stuns police patrols. I’m certainly not going to try to guess at the engineering marvel behind this feature.

So yes, I’m pretty convinced of this theory, its various flaws notwithstanding. Now, I don’t want to deny other car makers of any due credit. I’m pretty sure that attempts have been made to install this enigmatic device in BMWs, Lexuses, Jaguars, Range Rovers, and other affluent cars. But none of them does it so impeccably, on virtually its entire line.

In all honesty, some may interpret my sentiments as class envy. I just think it’s a misplaced cardinal sin. A more appropriate characterization may be class wrath.

Technorati Tags:
driving, satire

Recently I picked up a copy of Charles Darwin’s masterpiece, “The Origin of Species.” After all, it is hailed as one of the greatest turning points in science, if not biology. It essentially lays the basis for a lot of my own personal work in genomics. Right now, I’m about halfway through the book. Interesting read so far.

While away on a genetics conference last week, I was ambling around the San Diego Zoo. I walked by elaborate monkey and gorilla exhibits. Then I made an interesting observation. It may sound a bit obvious to some, but I never gave it much thought before. How is it that we, humans, are functionally so different than any other species that roams the earth? Genetically, we’re fairly close to apes. In fact, chimps are purportedly closer to Homo sapiens than they are to any other species. Yet, phenotypically — examining our own physical traits and expressions — there is not a single species that is even remotely like us.

Anthropologists have an answer to this supposed quagmire. We developed opposable thumbs as well as a language, and that sets us apart from other creatures. These traits have put us on a trajectory to intelligence and technology. In addition, the fossil record indicates the existence of other homonids (Homo erectus, Homo habilis, etc.), but they are now extinct. While a valid answer, my question is: why are these other homonids extinct? According to Darwin, a favorable trait that is naturally selected will likely be expressed in close varieties of the species where that trait originated. Why is it, then, that no other existing animal species have opposable thumbs or a well-developed language? Why are there no intermediate species between chimps and humans, who might have opposable thumbs, but speak very poor English? Why haven’t other species developed, or at least borrowed from humans, tools for hunting, rummaging, fighting? If Darwin’s conjecture is correct, then there should be other human “varieties” roaming the planet.

It just strikes me as odd that, given the success of our species and the existence of countless other species, there aren’t any close runners-up. No other species seems to have a conscious drive to excel like we do. The gorillas and the bonobos seem quite content in the little habitat the San Diego Zoo has carved out for them.

But these are just some points I’m pondering over as I’m reading the rest of “Origin.” After doing a bit of digging on the ‘net, it seems that Darwin’s follow-up, “Descent of Man,” might specifically address this question.

Technorati Tags:
genetics, evolution

I’ve got a tiff with Apple, Inc. I am admittedly a big fan, so I won’t condemn the whole juggernaut. It’s their notorious customer service department that has me proverbially shaking my fists.

Last week, after a 45 day trial of iWork ‘05, the almost-drop-in replacement for Microsoft Office, I decided to shell out 49 educational dollars for a license. Then two days ago Steve announces, among others, the release of iWork ‘06. With zealous anticipation, I open Keynote and look for the “Check for Updates…” menu item. But no such item exists. Strange. I then go on the iWork website and search for the Upgrade link. No dice. It then begins to dawn on me that I might have to purchase iWork ‘06 separately.

I read all their refund and upgrade policies, and find, to my chagrin, that although Apple offers a full refund for unopened software boxes that have been received within the last 14 days, they offer no refunds for software licenses or software downloads. They also have some 10 day price reduction guarantee. But in my case, the software has been licensed over the last 10 days (and hardly used). I feel gipped.

I called them up and after being shuffled between 3 representatives, got on the line with someone senior enough to conduct a heated argument that featured musings on the information age, an analysis of network bandwidth, and a dispute over the definition of corporate loyalty.

While their argument rested on technical minutiae, I waxed philosophical. They maintained that the policy clearly states that software downloads, including licenses, are nonrefundable. They further stated that there is no way for them to revoke the license key for the older version. When I asked them what good it would be to run the older version when I have the new version, they expressed their concern that I would just give the old license to someone else.

We then got into a diatribe over software versions. I ignorantly purchased iWork ‘05 with the understanding that, while its functionality is quite limited related to MS Office, I’ll be readily able to upgrade when the new version comes out. I really like the interface and Cocoa integration, so the functional flaws didn’t bother me that much. But they subscribe to a different philosophy. iWork ‘06, which they repeatedly referred to as iLife ‘06, is a completely separate product than iWork ‘05 — or, as they referred to, iLife ‘05.

But I wouldn’t let the truth get in the way. I saw that I had to take a different approach. So I invoked an economic argument. Are they really losing out, I reasoned, by sending me software? It’s not like hardware which they would have to restock. It’s just bits of 0s and 1s. I told them I refuse to pay for iWork ‘06. So they’re not losing any money. In fact, by winning their argument they’re only losing a loyal customer. I told them that I sing the Apple tune to my friends and family, and urge them to buy Apple products. And now, all I will do is qualify my Apple endorsements with “… but their customer service ain’t worth a braes farthing.”

Besides a $20 discount on the next purchase, which I told them to keep, they would not budge. In all seriousness, I can understand their position. They have an SOP and they stick to it. But a reputable company like Apple needs to incorporate some accommodation into their customer service procedures. A customer service department is, though on an individual level, the company’s public face. I know better than to judge Apple based on this experience, but I’ll be sure to think twice next time I’d like to purchase a frozen version of their software.

Technorati Tags:
apple, customer service, iwork

The HD-DVD demo during Bill Gates’s keynote speech proves one thing: Microsoft just doesn’t get it.

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Need I say more?

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The Toyota Prius - Gasoline-electric hybrid vehicles can serve as a UPS (Uninterruptible Power Supply) for your house. The Prius, unlike the generator, also has a battery that provides instant, UPS-like power, to your house.

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