Frozen Transparency

I’m sorry, Microsoft, but you’ve failed me once again. You are a company filled with a great many intelligent people, and yet, I find the following to be the case:

Required to run Windows Vista smoothly:

Required to make OS X (Leopard) run smoothly:

I think the difference is pretty clear.

Interestingly enough, the cost in both cases is approximately the same, being a reasonably high amount of money. To be fair, the Vista machine also has two expensive hard drives in it (instead of one cheap one), and I got extra software for the Mac.

The Vista machine is known as Atalanta. She is, of course, my main computer, and indeed, in everyday life, she looks much like this:

(You can tell the general date when this was taken). The reason you don’t see the huge case is because it’s hidden in the desk—and in usual operation, you can’t hear it, either. Which I think is pretty cool, for such a powerful machine to be virtually undetectable (unless you look in the desk).

After putting her together, I had collected a fair amount of excess cardboard, plastic, and other strange materials:

Imagine my surprise, then, when I opened up the new MacBook case and found this:

Simply minimalistic. Reduction of trash, reduction of waste—in fact, the box is so nice, I plan on keeping it in case I happen to need a MacBook-sized box hanging around. It is simply beautiful, to over-use the term. When I think about it, though, the word I would ascribe to this is simply elegant. As a programmer, I appreciate elegance.

In either case, I named the MacBook Echo, because I seem to have this thing where I name my computers after Greek women (Artemis, Atalanta, Echo, Athena (which is actually a hard drive), Apollo (err, wait…)).
Actually, I also use Greek mythology in general: Apollo (my Zune), Hermes (an external hard drive), Aether (my network), Mnemosyne (my backup hard drive)…Echo fits right in.

I admit, though, as a person who has been a dyed-in-the-wool Windows user and general Microsoft fan—and, admittedly, as someone who has bashed Apple a lot in the past—I have been suitably impressed by Echo. She’s mostly nothing more than an experiment; a purchase (actually made several weeks before this is posted) because I like the sleek, plastic look of the MacBook line more than the sleek, aluminum look that’s constantly rumored to take over. Also, Artemis was having problems, I wanted a good laptop for giving presentations, and I’d been saying for a long time that I needed a Mac just to have one. A Linux box is next!

The shopping experience was halfway very pleasant, halfway not. The employees were all helpful, although almost too helpful, and one of the girls failed my most important question: what is the worst thing about a Mac? She said “Nothing”, and it didn’t take me long at all before I found several simple flaws. But I let it slide. Really, had the store not been filled with a bunch of other people (many of them there for tech support, amusingly enough), it would have been much nicer: a quiet location where I could think things through. Thankfully, I had essentially made the decision before-hand and acted like I was browsing to confirm with myself, check out the MacBook Air, and not make it look like I was some fanboy out to just immediately buy. The downside is that I still missed the Mini-DVI-to-VGA cable in all the rush.

The difference between setting up a Mac and setting up a Windows box is not actually as large as I’d been made to think it would be. I was impressed that Leopard got my wireless network settings out of the way early and with much less hassle than Vista. On the other hand, I like how Vista asks you to name the computer early on; I really think “Keith’s Computer” is a stupid name. And anyways, I have a naming scheme going on!

The ability to immediately use the camera to take my self-picture was nice—once I figured out how to use it. I was annoyed that the preview went away after the first picture, which made subsequent attempts at not having the screenlight glare against my glasses an exercise in frustration. It is something I can fix later, but it could have been easier. On the other hand, Vista’s bland offering is less than stellar.

One thing I found interesting was that the world of serial numbers and software keys also rears its head on Macs. And there is absolutely one thing that Microsoft totally has right that Apple screwed up on: they automatically insert the hyphens for you. I typed out my entire iWork serial number and wondered why it didn’t recognize it; I had to go and manually add the hyphens to make it work. With Office, it added the hyphens for me, and when I had to go back and add a letter, it automatically re-adjusted them. It’s a little touch, but that’s supposed to be what Apple is good at.

Another minor frustration was that I was under the impression that I could get a discount on my .Mac account because I bought a new computer (and am a new .Mac user to boot)—however, I saw no such way of getting it, and ended up paying full price. And I figure that if I’m going to give Macs a fair trial and a full shake, I should do the whole thing.

The control panel on OS X, however, is superior to that on Vista.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I had my gripes with getting Echo, much as I have my gripes about Vista’s installation. But I was greatly impressed, and to an extent enlightened. I had spent so much time vilifying it that I hadn’t thought of it even having good parts.

Mind, I still don’t like the dock. I’m not particularly fond of the mile-high menu bar, but I can appreciate Fitts’s Law, and suspect that I’ll get used to it. I’m again not fond of clicking the button I expect to close a program not actually closing the program—this is cited by some Mac enthusiasts as a “feature”, so I assume it’s deliberate; it still feels unintuitive to me. The lack of maximize might work on a large screen (as I rarely use maximize on Atalanta for this reason; it just makes it too big), but on my tiny MacBook screen, I could really use the entire real estate. The auto-sizer just doesn’t seem right to me. The icon-similarity problem oft-cited for Leopard I also agree with.

The real point is, though, that I shouldn’t have been relegated to a MacBook, especially as there are some serious gripes I have (as opposed to simply bashing Apple). But Windows computer seem fragile, physically. I have a computer with eight gigabytes of RAM and a 2.33 GHz Dual-Core processor; and yet, there are times when Vista still gives me slowdowns (to be fair, they are incredibly infrequent and seem to very often have to do with Firefox). My Zune has a tendency to spontaneously reboot itself, much to my annoyance (possibly caused because I have subjected it to lots of temperature extremes). I understand that Vista’s UAC was a choice made between a rock and a hard place, but I can see where it gets in the way (my annoyance has more to do with how it utterly disrupts my workflow). Things don’t communicate with each other as well as one might hope. The much-touted Start Menu Search is really awesome for running programs, but I constantly have problems with it and files.

It’s not fair to entirely hold it against Microsoft, though, but I chose the 64-bit Vista option, to access all eight gigabytes of memory. However, thumbnails have issues in 64-bit explorer (because other companies haven’t written the right plugins). Some programs don’t even function. Little things crop up, on top of the random Vista compatibility issues.

On the MacBook side, I still abhor touchpads. But I’m getting used to the one-button interface. However, I tried the Mighty Mouse at the store and was utterly repulsed. And the fact that I have to buy a special cable to be able to use my MacBook with any external display is, frankly, kind of stupid. I wouldn’t mind if it were possible to find in places that sell other common computer cables; but to have to only get it from Apple is frustrating to no end.

In either case, I paid a lot of money for Atalanta, and I intend on using her to that full end. She is still my main home PC, powerhouse that she is (apparently I like strong, athletic women). I like Windows, and I’m still a Microsoft cheerleader. I also paid a lot of money for Echo, and I intend on using her to test out OS X and to be a good, portable laptop.

One of my friends likes to use the term “Apple Fag” to describe the people who—almost cult-like—are major fans of Apple and Macs. I’m not particularly fond of the term, partly because the association of homosexuality with “bad” is distasteful to me (not to mention my dislike of how the term for a bundle of sticks or a cigarette turned into a word describing homosexuality), but also because I’ve met a large number of people who are Apple fans for good reason. I have not turned into one of these so-called “Apple Fags”. I’m still in Microsoft’s camp, and I’m still skeptical of Apple. I haven’t joined the cult, and I have no intentions about switching anytime soon (especially because, as noted, I want to get good use out of Atalanta).

However, when I sit back and take stock of the computing landscape and its future, I cannot help but loose some of my firm footing with Microsoft, especially since they seem to be having so many problems. I’m not yet an “Apple Fag”, but if Microsoft can’t catch up sometime soon, my next desktop computer may very well be a Mac.

My pastor recently said something in a sermon that resonated with me. He said:

You are still a parent even if you do not have any children.

It took me a while to understand the wisdom of this statement. While the actual etymology of the word “parent” comes from the Latin word meaning “to give birth”, when I studied Latin, I found myself intrigued that it could also be interpreted to mean “they obey”. Perhaps a better choice would be “they mimic”.

As adults, we are the role models that children look up to. They mimic us in thought and deed, and their experience with us shapes their lives. Every interaction with a child slowly builds their character, and from their character all things flow.

The next time you interact with a child, consider that you—even if for only a brief moment—are their model for adulthood. You are their parent.

When I was young, around nine or ten, my usual breakfast at my mother’s house was instant oatmeal. You poured the oatmeal into a bowl, added some water, then put it in the microwave for ninety seconds. Being the age we were, I and my siblings were tremendously impatient for even those ninety seconds. At one point, though, my step-father explained to us that we should actually put it in for seven seconds less. If we put it in for ninety seconds and watched, during those last seven seconds it would get super-hot or something like that. Inevitably, what happened was we kids sat and watched the microwave heat up the oatmeal—and in the process, shut up.

It took me a number of years before I realized it was a lie. Though I’ve never confirmed it, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was concocted just to get us kids to be quiet for a while (since we tended to be quiet once we got food anyways). It’s interesting what parents will say, however false, just to get their children to do things.

I recently read a very interesting book called Who Stole Feminism? by Christina Hoff Sommers. The book’s primary purpose is to debunk a large number of the myths about gender that are being perpetrated by modern feminists. She goes back to the original studies (when she can obtain them; a surprising number were never published in peer-reviewed journals and were instead simply reported on by the media) and examines the data. She finds alternate studies. And she delves into the rhetoric paraded by politicians and feminists and exposes it for what it is.

Now, one could argue that her bias is just as bad as what she is trying to combat. It’s possible, and as a skeptic, I would like more investigation. But I was struck by her chapter on rape statistics, and how blatantly overblown they tend to be.

There was a point in college when I attended the Vagina Monologues with some friends. During the performance, they wanted to call attention to sexual abuse and how it needs to stop (a goal I agree with). To further this, they asked everyone in the audience to stand if they had been sexually abused or knew someone who had. I stood, as one of my friends in college had been raped when she was younger. I looked around, and I would say about one tenth of the audience had stood up.

One of the standard statistics that Sommers quotes is that “one in four women” has been raped. If that statistic were true, I would have expected half of the audience to stand. Not one-tenth. There may have been some who sat for fear of being exposed, but the caveat of “someone you know” largely dismissed that. And such shame does not explain the massive disparity between that statistic and what I saw.

The sample was, admittedly, skewed due to the audience being all in college—although most people in college know people who are poor (rape being inversely correlated with income, in general). There are possibly other explanations for the disparity, but let me suggest one (which Sommers also proposes): the statistic is wrong. Sommers explains how they derived that statistic and exposes their flawed methodology. And at a certain point, a quote she includes from another skeptic resonates with me: if one in four women were raped, why haven’t I heard more about it from my friends?

Now let me be clear: I do not condone rape. It is wrong. It can be a massive traumatic experience, and people who have been raped should get the therapy and support they need (though I don’t think the government should pay for it). I am not in any way trying to suggest that we should trivialize the impact it has on people.

What I am instead saying is that people (in the media, government, and schools) are lying.

When I pointed out this disparity to an acquaintance who is a rather hardcore feminist, she glibly replied, “It’s okay, because it raises awareness of the problem and gets those people the support they need.”

To rephrase: it is okay to lie because it gets the results we want.

This leads me to the Holocaust. I am not a Holocaust denier; on the contrary, I am quite convinced it happened. I am quite convinced that it was horrible. But I am not convinced that the statistics I hear about it are true.

Why? Because anyone who contests them is labeled as a denier. So we are willing to accept the statistics we are given, because it emphasizes the horror and tragedy of what happened.

I think there can be honest quibbles with official figures. I think historians should be allowed to go through the evidence in an attempt to learn more. It may be the case that we over-estimate the number of people slaughtered. If it is, we should adjust the statistic. It does not de-emphasize the horror of what happened. It does not reduce its enormity. It brings us closer to the truth.

And I would say that an over-inflated figure trivializes it.Edit for clarity:And I would say that if we have an over-inflated figure, than doing so would trivialize the event.End Edit I would say that it shows disrespect to those who survived it, because we are essentially telling them that the truth of their suffering does not matter. Likewise, claiming such a high rate of rape in society shows disrespect to those who have actually been raped. To have such a high number requires such a liberal definition of rape (a teenager reluctant to kiss can be classified as ‘raped’ according to some cited studies) that it trivializes those who actually were truly raped by all definitions.

It is okay to proclaim a false statistic in order to advance a point. To question the statistic is to be insulted, shouted at, and to be a horrible person.

Which leads me to another anecdote. Some time ago, one of my friends was at my apartment, and had brought her three-year-old daughter. Being a child of that age, she was inordinately curious about the world, and especially about all the fun things I had around my apartment. She would go around pointing at things and asking me what they were, and in good humor I would tell her. In time, she made her way to my printer (a Kodak All-in-one) and started inquiring about the various buttons. As she explored the printer, she stuck her fingers into where the paper comes out—clearly potentially dangerous, due to the moving gears and other things that are unkind to child fingers.

I admonished her not to do it, and in an attempt to quickly explain why it was bad, I told her that it would eat her hand. It was mostly for a metaphorical sense, as I wasn’t entirely sure what it could really do, but I was aware of its danger. Her mother then embellished the story, explaining how a monster was in the printer. It had the desired effect: the child stopped playing with the printer.

Yet I worried about the lie. Even my small exaggeration about eating her hand; was it right for me to deliberately tell her something false in order to have a good result (in this case, to not stick her hand in a dangerous place. I didn’t mind her otherwise playing with the printer)?

Another anecdote along the same lines: an acquaintance of mine was once convinced by his father that he (the son) was under consideration for inclusion in a spy agency or some such. At one point, during a several-hour car trip, the father explained to the son that the lines on the back window (the defrosters) were actually a secret cloaking device, and he had to sit absolutely still for it to work. The trip was a test or something along those lines. And sure enough, the child sat in the back perfectly silent and still for the entire trip.

My acquaintance laughed about it as he told me about it, because he realizes now that it was a lie, but it had the right result: it made the drive far more peaceful.

In fact, telling children deliberate lies to get them to do something seems to be a very popular parenting technique. Clearly, given its prevalence and especially through history (consider Santa Claus as the lie to induce good behavior), it is not that harmful. But I still worry.

If, when our children are young, we lie to them to get an effect, are we not essentially telling them, then, that it is okay to lie to get the results you want? To quote knowingly false statistics in order to siphon more government funding?

That the ends justify the means?

Is that what we really want our children to learn? Is that what we really want our culture to be?

Suppose we have ten bars of soap and ten people. Everyone gets a bar, everyone’s happy. Then, for some reason, we have two more people show up, thus meaning we do not have enough bars for everyone, despite the fact that each person wants a bar of soap (demand has increased without increasing supply). There are only four ways this situation can be resolved:

1. Increase the cost of soap.
2. Increase the amount of time before a person gains access to soap (as time is a resource, this is really just increasing its cost).
3. Make more soap (which may or may not be an impossibility).
4. Mandate the cost of soap (in both money and time) along with the amount of soap, thereby creating a mandated shortage. Or rather, accept that you have a shortage, and that access to soap is essentially chosen by lottery.

It doesn’t matter what economic system you’re working under, those are your only four options. No amount of law or pandering can change this fact—it can only change which option is chosen by the market (by making some of them illegal). “Market”, in this case, being used in a very abstract sense, to account for theoretical communism.

So understand my cynicism when people—especially politicians—describe a “solution” to an “economic problem” but completely ignore this fact, if they don’t outright claim it false. I would love to see a legislature attempt to actually repeal the Law Of Supply And Demand. I would then like them to follow by repealing the Law Of Conservation Of Energy.

Katherine Auberdine, the protagonist of Heir To The Gallery, and the eyes through which the readers see much of the story. The story itself predicates on her as a character, and her as a flawed heroine. But her development was not entirely planned, yet it is integral to how the story itself played out. I will discuss my thoughts on her development as a character in my mind here.

Obviously, this is spoiler territory; read at your own risk.

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