Assorted Afflatuses

After watching a week of protests and violence in Burma, the public has decided that the United States and the rest of the Occidental world needs to impose sanctions on the military state. But sanctions — at least on the part of the United States and Western Europe — will do nothing to affect the military government. Burma, a very resource-rich nation, will manage to find at least one country or corporation to buy its natural gas and oil. As most analysts have pointed out, China's influence is likely the only reason the Burmese military has not done more to quash protest. Russia — not exactly a staunch ally of the West — also has no interest in putting pressure on Burma: the Burmese military regime sources most of its military equipment from Russian aerospace and defense contractors.

On the other hand, the Burmese people have very little contact with and even less access to the outside world. According to the CIA World Factbook, Burma has a whopping two radio stations and another two television stations. Less than 31,000 people — out of 43 million — have access to the Internet from a whole 42 Internet hosts. (Compare that to the 195 million in the United States.) The Factbook also mentions that the Burmese telecommunications infrastructure, "barely meets minimum requirements for local and intercity service for business and government."

In fact, the protests in Burma were catalyzed by an increase in fuel prices, which proved too much for the already cash-strapped Burmese people. They came about not, as one might have expected, because the Burmese were unhappy with their military overlords.

Bearing that in mind, I think the United States and European Union ought to impose reverse sanctions on Burma. We should encourage our citizens to tour Burma and expose the oppressed, information-deprived population to human rights, freedom and the social contract theory of government. We should feed and encourage a Burmese hunger for Western literature, entertainment and journalism. If a modest increase in fuel prices can spur action that merits above-the-fold coverage in The New York Times, then it does not seem inconceivable to think that the Burmese, with the right information, might have their own American-style revolutionary war.

For a backward country, we need to adopt a backward strategy.

Since EMI began peddling wonderful DRM-free, high-quality AAC files on the iTunes store in May, I have hoped against hope that Vivendi's Universal Music Group would do the same. Universal, as it happens, controls three of my favorite pseudo labels — Deutsche Grammophon, Decca and Verve — whose classic and jazz music sound sound far better with that extra 128kbps of audio data.

Of course, Universal, in its perpetual ineptitude, decided to put its snazzy new DRM-free, high-quality music everywhere but iTunes. Initially, I was angry. Yesterday, however, Amazon.com launched their "MP3 Downloads" store, which sells, among other music, the new Universal stuff. While I would compare the experience of browsing their store to wrenching a pair of jeans out from someone's grip on the first day of the Nordstrom anniversary sale compared to the serene minimalism of iTunes, I still managed to find a few songs worth purchasing, all of which sound terrific.

But my mild happiness turned to letdown when I discovered that Universal did not make its wonderful Global Concert Hall series of live digital recordings, released under the Decca and Deutsche Grammophon labels, available to Amazon.com. I really like the Global Concert Hall Series. It has featured the New York Philharmonic and the world-renowned Chamber Orchestra of Europe performing everything from Schumann to Chopin. The live recordings from iTunes teem with vivaciousness and energy, but the 128kbps bit-rate has always left me somewhat underwhelmed, especially compared with higher quality classical recordings in my library.

Take heed Universal! I want my Global Concert Hall and I want it at 256kbps!

For the developing world, aid and debt forgiveness are good. But empowerment and education are great. Nicolas Negroponte's one laptop per child, or "OLPC," initiative has the potential to change the world, despite the various setbacks and budget overruns, by empowering children in the developing world through technology and the power of the Internet.

It has been possible to donate an XO laptop computer, for $200, or help fund the project's development and deployment through one-off donations for quite a while. Now, however, people can participate in the OLPC project's new "give 1 get 1" program. For $400, purchasers receive an XO laptop of their own and provide the funds to give a child one of the XO laptops too. While the XO has less processing power than my iPhone, it is still a pretty neat computer. It uses so little power that the battery can be charged by hand-crank: something very important for those people without access to electricity and rather novel for those of us who do.

Check out the OLPC project at laptop.org.

For years I dreamt of making a fortune, buying a tract of land in an idyllic hamlet and retiring early with assets sufficient to continue funding my addictions to gadgets and designer clothing. That dream has now died. In the handful of weeks that I have spent with more or less nothing to do, I have come to the realization that retirement must be the most exhaustingly dull part of a person's life, except, perhaps, for those people who have a penchant for gardening. But given my aversion to dirt, I doubt I shall develop one.

Fortunately for me, I have the assurance that, with a tad more prudence this time around, I will go to college. And, even more fortunately, I was pointed to Bates College, in Lewiston, Maine. Bates, unlike most other schools of its caliber, has a January start date program, which — if I am accepted — would let me escape from boredom in just a few months. I submitted my application yesterday, though I doubt that will expedite the decision of the admissions committee.

By and large, I like the idea of Bates. From what I have read, they have an excellent array of academic programs and Bates graduates are regularly accepted into the nation's top graduate schools. The weather is a tad chilly during the winter, but I see that more as a good excuse to buy a fancy cashmere coat. Students at Bates also have a high propensity to study abroad, with about 80% of students spending some extended length of time in another country. My only reservation concerns the college's remote location. Lewiston, Maine, while the second largest city in the pine tree state, only has a population of 37,000. I have warmed to the idea of life in rural Maine since Bates was first proposed to me. Still, I find the idea of life over a hundred miles from the nearest Design Within Reach store or bona fide symphony a little unsettling.

The rural location would be far more tolerable if the railway system in the Northeast were less disorganized. From what I understand, everything south of Portland, Maine is very well-connected. It would be fairly easy, for instance, to take the train from Portland to New York City. But traveling to Portland from any other city in Maine seems to require a great deal of planning and hassle. More convoluted infrastructure in the United States.

Given that I will not receive my decision before 1 December, I will probably apply to one or two schools on their early-action or early-admission program, just in case Bates does not want to take me. Hopefully life without DWR will not be too unpleasant.

My advertising campaign on Facebook has produced some very interesting results. I say interesting because neither my Facebook nor my Google AdWords campaigns have, in their short lifetimes, failed to bring me any additional business. The Facebook advertising, though, has given me an interesting look into the way the human mind functions, or rather does not function.

As I mentioned on Friday, Facebook does not allow advertisers to locally target their "flyers" to specific geographic locations when paid for on a per-click basis, rather than on a per-impression basis. So, my advertisements have been displayed to Facebook users across the United States, despite the fact that my business operates locally in the Portland area. To compensate for this unfortunate fact, I made sure to specify where my business operated in the advertisement by noting that I offer, "…computer consulting services in the Portland, OR area…" (emphasis added).

One would think, especially given the number of college graduates and students using Facebook, that this would deter someone in Iowa from clicking on the ad. Logic and intelligent thought, however, collapse when confronted with a dose of unfiltered human behavior. According to my fancy Google Analytics — which provides me with an almost Orwellian amount of detail about every one of my visitors — my business' website received several referrals from Facebook users in the states of California, Iowa and Kentucky

It appears that people either blindly click on my advertisements out of sheer boredom, or they read its title, "Computer Support" and click through without a full perusal. Otherwise, I fail to see how anyone could possibly mistake Portland, Oregon with Fort Dodge, Iowa.

While I generally try to think positively and adopt a sanguine outlook, this information depresses me. Either the average Facebook user has absolutely no intelligence and cannot distinguish one discrete name from another, or the average Facebook user displays absolutely no prudence whatsoever in reading advertisements and further compounds consumer ignorance.

But this is only day four of the campaign. Knowing as little as I do about online advertising, it may well take a full week to really start delivering on its promise of fantastic ROI.

After a successful first day, I had adopted a very sanguine forecast for my Facebook advertisements. Then the weekend arrived. On Friday Facebook gave me over 30,000 impressions, a solid dozen of which were clicked on by users. Strictly speaking that makes for a dismal click-through rate of about 0.024 per cent, but considering the fact that Facebook displays my ad to the entire country, 0.024 seems a reasonably good rate. Saturday, however, proved less successful, with only 3,000 impressions and not a single click-through. Today does not look fantastic either, with only 2,100 served so far.

When first I saw those statistics, I reasoned that the drop off in impressions stemmed from a sharp decline in Facebook usage during the weekend. That prognostication, though, was without any evidence. So, I set about running a few Google searches.

I never found a dossier or white paper detailing the day-to-day usage patterns of Facebook users, but I did find a very interesting informal study written by a PhD student that examined Facebook trends at his college. Among his finds, the vast majority of Facebook users who categorized themselves as "liberal" considered Harry Potter their favorite book, whereas those who called themselves "conservative" listed the Bible as their favorite. It also seemed telling that the self-described liberals tended to list George Orwell's 1984 as a favorite, while the celebrated dystopian novel did not even make it into the top ten among self-labeled conservatives.

Also according to the study, the Facebook users surveyed were less likely to share their academic concentration than their relationship status. The former strikes me as far less personal or revealing than the latter.

All in all, an interesting read for anyone with any interest in Facebook trends.

Three days on, my Google AdWords campaign has netted me a whopping one click. And no, that is not a typo. Of the 1,992 people in the Portland, OR area who have seen my lovely little text ads to promote my business venture, just one has actually clicked through to visit my company's website. I have endlessly tweaked keywords and exclusionary keywords to no avail. Google searchers, it seems, just do not care about my advertisements.

So I asked myself, "Where else do people 'hang out' online?" MySpace came to mind first, but the idea of supporting such a terrible service and its owner, the infamous News Corporation, deterred me. Facebook, on the other hand, is the clean, high-net-worth alternative to the somewhat dodgy slum that is MySpace. And, as a Facebook user, I have noticed the slick little text advertisements that pop up on the left side of the screen.

A little exploration took me to the Facebook Flyers page, which allows one to purchase advertisements both on a per-impression and a per-click basis. Curiously, though, the per-click system does not allow advertisers to specify which networks or groups see the ads, while the per-impression system does. It seems like a waste to advertise my small business, which operates only in the Portland, OR area, to every Facebook user in the United States. Admittedly, I have a great deal of exposure — in the first minute Facebook displayed my ad to over 2,000 sets of eyes — but it strikes me as extremely inefficient not to offer locally targeted advertisements.

Nonetheless, I have much higher hopes for the Facebook campaign. In the first fifteen minutes of its existence, three people have already clicked through.

America has pulled the welcome mat out from Mahmoud Ahmadinejad feet. It seems that everyone from editorial directors to randomly selected interviewees on the street have nothing nice to say about Iran's sixth president. And I share their belief that Mr. Ahmadinejad ought not to receive any kind of special treatment if he wishes to visit "ground-zero," as the pundits would call it. But I have a difficult time believing that all of these people who claim to so vehemently detest the Iranian president actually have a foundation for their beliefs. Nor do I see why allowing him the same access granted to any tourist or American citizen should create such a kerfuffle.

From what I have seen on television, and read on print and online, most people struggle to pronounce the man's name, let alone produce any shred of evidence to support their position. One bedraggled New Yorker interviewed on CNN said that Mr. Ahmadinejad ought to be denied access to New York, "because he probably had something to do with the terrorist attack." An argument supported like a castle built on a stack of invisible toothpicks.

Granted, Mr. Ahmadinejad would not be at the top of my list of potential dinner guests. His strange views on the Holocaust and his actions to suppress women's rights — so severe in some cases that even the ultra-conservative Iranian governing counsel asked him to ratchet back the discrimination — do little to engender him support, at least from me and the rest of the Western world. But it cannot be denied that he has done at least a little good. His actions to fight poverty, while relatively facile, have still stood to benefit Iran. And one cannot help but wonder whether Mr. Ahmadinejad is merely playing the role of insane Middle Eastern dictator to rouse more support on his home turf by adopting the persona ascribed to him by dear Mr. Bush.

Denying the Iranian president normal access to the lower Manhattan site where the World Trade Center once stood, also seems unfounded and, quite frankly, un-American. How can we call our society tolerant if we deny normal access to a man simply because of his position and the radical views that he holds? And what evidence demonstrates that Mr. Ahmadinejad would do something dangerous if he were to visit the site? He has never actively participated in acts of violence or brutality and there is no reason to believe that he will suddenly take up the hobby upon arriving in the United States.

I have no problem with anyone who dislikes the Iranian president. But it bothers me to think that people want to strip him of his rights or disparage him based on hearsay or nothing at all. It does nothing but paint America as an intolerant society and further inflame people who already dislike us quite a bit. Next time America, know your Ahmadinejad.

All the hubbub surrounding shoddy manufacturing in China, whose latest twist saw a New York Times reporter trapped in a toy factory, has reminded me not to stray from my goal to emphasize quality over quantity. Admittedly, I do have a difficult time sticking to that principle in the realm of gadgets and gizmos, but I like to think that my zealous adherence to the quality over quantity credo in every other aspect of my life compensates, at least a little. So, to keep the spirit of quality alive and well, I present my ten favorite purveyors and manufacturers of high-quality goods. Granted, their products probably cost more than similar wares from less quality-centric manufacturers, and this list is highly capricious. But one must remember that these products will likely last far longer than some inexpensive Chinese knockoff. And the list's volatility does not, in any way, dilute the quality of these manufacturer's goods.

1. LEGO Toys
   The iconic plastic building blocks adored by everyone from children to engineers (and manufactured in Europe to boot)
2. Designer Furniture from Design Within Reach
   An American chain specializing in beautiful, well-designed and functional modern furniture
3. Muji
   Purveyor of everything from diaries to dinnerware who stresses quality and simplicity above all else by making excellent use of materials and minimizing waste
4. Uniqlo
   A Japanese clothing brand which has earned a reputation for making simple, high quality basics at very reasonable prices
5. 7 for All Mankind
   A brand instantly recognized from Seattle to Strasbourg; expensive, yes, but you get what you pay for, as the old adage goes
6. Waterman Pens and Pencils
   Superb French-manufactured fountain pens at a variety of prices
7. Room & Board Furniture
   More classic than contemporary, with lots of pieces that can be tailored to specific demands
8. Knopf Everyman's Library Books
   Well-made, well-bound hardcovers to be read again and again of the world's most notable literary works to round out any bibliophile's collection
9. Caran D'Ache Pens and Pencils
   High-end, but extremely high-quality Swiss manufactured pens and pencils
10. MoMa Design Store
    Furniture, artwork and household goods from world-renowned designers; some pieces come directly from the art museum itself

Everyone loves text-based Internet advertisements. Investors love them, consumers love them and, if koalas could use the Internet, they would love them too. With the promise of fantastic "ROI" (or "return on investment") and the fantastic reach, I thought Internet advertising was the only place to be. So, to promote my fledgling enterprise, I signed up for a Google AdWords account. The results have neither shocked nor awed me. For that matter they have barely perturbed my utterly enervated aura.

Of course, I would never have harbored the delusion of seeing a thousand-fold increase in business after eight hours. I did, however, expect to see some kind of impact. But, as of now, not a single person so much as clicked on one of my text ads, despite the fact that, according to Google, over two hundred sets of eyes have now viewed them. So even if, in the next ten minutes, just one person clicked on one of my advertisements, my total "click though rate," or "CTR" for those in the know, would be around half a percent.

Perhaps it takes time to garner results. Maybe I should have taken Google's suggestion to heart and set a monthly advertising budget of over $100. Or, I suppose I might have chosen the wrong keywords. Regardless, I hope this whole text advertisement shebang managers to have some impact. Otherwise I will have wasted $35 on yet another chimera.

George W. Bush does not have the most stellar record when it comes to the environment. At the same time, however, none of the "electable" candidates vying for the Democratic or the Republican nomination in 2008 have laid out policies that take sufficient action to prevent or, perhaps more pragmatically speaking, moderate, the effects of climate change.

Certainly Barack Obama would do a better job than our current president, but even his plan stops far short of what is truly necessary. In a speech he delivered early in 2006, just after the president's State of the Union address, Mr. Obama advocated that the United States, "raise fuel economy standards by 3% a year over the next fifteen years, starting in 2008." In practice, Mr. Obama's policy would take a GMC Suburban, which currently manages a meager 11 miles to the gallon, and push its fuel economy up to an unimpressive 17 miles per gallon. Hardly something to write home about.

On the other side of the Atlantic, however, England's Liberal Democrats have proposed a much more radical, and much more appropriate, set of policies designed to combat climate change. Their policies, simply put, aim to make the United Kingdom a carbon-neutral country by the year 2050. In practice this includes a proposed ban on all petrol-powered vehicles starting in 2040 and specialized "green mortgages" designed to incentives the construction of eco-friendly homes. Admittedly the pace of the Lib Dem's proposed reforms are much slower than might be ideal, but such a policy does a far better job of correctly identifying the scope and the immediacy of climate change.

Unfortunately, though, the Lib Dems have little chance of putting their policies into effect, at least for the foreseeable future: they have neither the numbers in the British Parliament nor sufficient support from other MPs. Still, their policies signal a marked departure from the ineffectual and rather wishy-washy policies set out by other political parties or individual politicians, especially those in the United States, with regard to the environment. I still have reservations about the current crop of presidential hopefuls here in the states, but, given the somewhat unexpected and decidedly bold shift in policy overseas, the seeds of hope have been planted in my mind. Much can — and undoubtedly will — change in the next fourteen months.

Like the poor Floridian who had the misfortune of being struck twice by lightning, I have terrible luck. When I bought a Staedtler Lumocolor permanent marker, I had planned to refill it upon its death. But Staedtler failed to mention that, while they do sell the Lumocolor markers in the United States, they do not sell the refill kit. Such was the collapse of my well-conceived plan to protect the environment by purchasing a slightly overpriced German marker.

I find it incredibly ironic that my effort to protect the environment may actually harm the it. Apparently, I have to order the refill kit directly from Germany, which means that, in addition to the the insane sum in Euros and the currency conversion fee I will have to pay, I must also have the inkwell shipped in some airplane across two continents. That is, to say the least, awful for the environment.

And, without doubt, Staedtler does not sell the refill kit in the United States because Americans are so incredibly lazy. Just today I discovered that Costco sells instant cosmopolitan mix. If a nation cannot throw a dash of lemon vodka, a touch of Cointreau, a splash of cranberry juice and a squeeze of lime into a shaker, then there is no way it would purchase refills for markers. The effort of dipping a pen into a well of ink would probably kill the millions of people whose hearts are failing due to lack of exercise.

Yes, I love this country.

Whether as the result of objectionable policies or customer service ineptitude, some stores have lost my business. Take Best Buy. After one of their checkout clerks tried to convince me that I should buy the $25 extended warranty for a $5 keyboard, I decided never to visit again. Another bad experience at the AT&T store several years ago, where a salesperson blatantly lied to me, drove me away from that establishment. My aversion to so-called "fast fashion" emporiums, like Forever 21 and Zara, however, is much more complicated.

One cannot, of course, ignore such companies' contributions to global warming, whether by promoting consumption or fabricating clothing in materials that require more energy to clean. But do not expect to find me protesting amidst a crowd of loony environmentalists clad in taupe-colored smocks made of ridiculous organic linen. Rather, I object to such chains because they purloin the concepts and ideas designers pour over for hours, weeks, or years in order to bring them to life.

The New York Times ran a stunning piece last week on this very subject, whose accompanying online gallery really illustrated this phenomenon well. I always sensed similarities between the wares in runway shows and the garments draped over mannequins as I passed by the Zara shops in Paris, but never had I realized the extent to which fast-fashion corporations draw their so-called "inspiration" from hard-working and intelligent people in the industry.

Many would correctly note, though, that designs and trends always trickle down from top-end designer labels to inexpensive wares at run-of-the-mill department stores, just as features on high-end automobiles — like metallic paint and satellite navigation systems — eventually trickle town to budget compacts from luxury sedans. Fast fashion firms, however, have engineered a supply chain that often beats the actual designers to the store. The knockoff, then, can be purchased before the authentic garment has left the factory.

More vexingly, I doubt this would happen in any other industry. The patent, which has existed in some form for over half a millennia, protects most unique ideas from exploitation by anyone other than their progenitor. But the US government has ignored calls from American and foreign designers alike to include patent protection to designs. Would the government have denied Pfizer the right to patent Lipitor if the pharmaceutical industry did not have patent protections? Probably not.

The patent protection for product designs need not be terribly restrictive. Providing a six to nine month window of exclusivity would allow hardworking designers to scrape a living, while barely inhibiting the natural flow of ideas from top-end to mass market. For now though, it seems I will have to content myself with a solitary boycott.

It is no secret that Apple CEO Steve Jobs likes to surprise his audience. But nothing in my recent memory has created as much of a stir as Apple's decision yesterday to slash iPhone prices by $200, just two months after their release. Apple's share price fell by nearly five percent after the announcement. Investors, however, were not the only ones seething.

Admittedly, when I purchased my iPhone at the end of June, I knew that it would eventually see a price cut or some kind of improvement. But, as most industry analysts noted, such a drastic price cut two months after a product's introduction was, to say the least, unprecedented. I felt betrayed, wronged, and, above all, quite irate.

Even when I purchased a Nikon D50 for $1000, scarcely weeks after its release, it took Nikon over three months to cut the price by $100, or about 10%. Apple, in this instance, waited a scant two months to cut the price of the iPhone by nearly 40%.

But, around noon, Apple released a statement that, among other items, contained this statement:

Frankly, I still feel somewhat cheated, despite the fact that I will eventually receive a hundred dollar rebate. But, I suppose that is literal price of being on the cutting edge.

My trip to Paris began pleasantly enough. I walked into the airport, checked bags, queued for security, bought some hot chocolate at the Coffee People kiosk and found my gate. Soon thereafter, however, two harbingers of disaster foreshadowed my pain to come. First, I spilled several ounces of hot chocolate down the front of my shirt, which, thankfully, came off after a liberal rinsing in the disgusting airport bathroom. Second, the batteries in my newly purchased Bose QuietComfort 2 headphones died prematurely.

But I failed to see the signs. I shrugged off the twenty minute delay, figuring that in a summer rife with air traffic problems a twenty-minute delay was to be expected. On the runway I silently applauded the pilot's decision to keep us grounded an extra ten minutes, as a brilliantly executed move that would squeeze us into the Philadelphia arrivals schedule. Five hours later a string of unfortunate events jolted me from my naïve reverie.