Of e-Readers and Starving Solmalians...

This entry is basically a re-print of a comment I made in response to another guy's review of the new Amazon Kindle 2. I've tailored it a little bit to stand on it's own here in my blog.

My gut - having read the review - is that the author is making a larger statement about the marketing hype than about the actual utility of the device. It’s clear he isn’t into e-readers.

I landed on his site as part of my research to determine if I would switch over from Sony to Kindle.

I think he's missing the point. The main draw of these devices is really 2 things:

1. The portability. This is a huge win for those of us who travel frequently.

2. The screen. It has the contrast of news print w/o any backlighting. Much easier on they eyes than an LCD.

Taken together, it makes complete sense that we (travelers) are going to buy one or the other of these devices - even at the high price-point, bad economy or no.

I’m in agreement that it’s not a world-changer. No starving Somalians are to be helped here. That said, it makes sense to think about these kinds of items in a broader context.

The e-readers are in their infancy. There will come a time when there are no magazines and no books printed on paper. There will come a time when we do our reading in ways we haven’t even yet begun to fathom.

It will still be reading.

Of course you aren’t going to see these devices on subways, trains and busses just yet. But you are starting to see them on airplanes. It just a matter of time before they are commodotized (sp?) and will be as ubiquitous as the books and magazines they are meant to replace.

As for me, I'm still on the fence. I don't know if I'm going to make the switch over to Kindle yet or not. It remains to be seen.

And there you have it. I have spoken on this matter and your lives have been enriched. Go forth and prosper.

I'm back

Okay... I've been away entirely too long. I'm a way-non-attendant blogger. Just don't have much to say lately. Even when I have something to say, it's not usually like I'm really saying anything per se...

Work has gotten weird. My latest project is based in Japan and so sleep this week is caught in little snatches of 2 or 3 hrs.

I just said "snatches".

The main outcome of sleeping in this fashion is that I perpertually feel like I'm in a foggy twilight zone.

Anyway - we'll give it another try.

You can't pick up chicks in business class...

It's true. You can't. Business class invariably is populated by either chubby old dudes, chubby old chicks or families.

It sucks because there you are... sitting in biz class... seated prior to all the poor bastards who have to sit in cattle class feeling superior as you sip your orange juice and look up your nose at them as they file past you... looks of despair, envy, or in some cases - faked apathy... and then you see her.

She's young... beautiful... She radiates vibrant energy and complete confidence as she puts her hand on the seat to stabilize herself as the line comes to a halt. Your eyes meet... and there is a common understanding. It's as if you are speaking though no words are spoken...

"Hey there... wow... look at you..."
"Yeah.. I can see you are looking at me... could you please roll up your tongue and put it back in your mouth?"
"Oh... was I doing that in real life? Sorry... didn't mean to offend..."
"Yeah.. no.. it's okay... I get that alot when I pass through business class..."
"Oh... just passing through? I was hoping maybe you were going to be sitting here in 15B."
"Oh silly... don't you know? You can't pick up chicks in Business Class!", she laughs...
"Yeah... well.. I mean I knew that... was even thinking about writing about it now that you mention it... but yeah...was hoping you were gonna sit here..."
"Aww... Well listen, I'm back in Coach. That's where we all sit... you wanna pick us up, you gotta sit back there!"
"No shit... I'll keep that in mind."

And with that, the line starts moving again and she moves past me into oblivion...

Make David Rich

Ok facebook. I'm really starting to get a little bit pissed! I'm not sure what else I'm supposed to do here. I've created the group "Make David Rich" I've setup my paypal account. I've invited all my friends.

WHERE'S THE CASH!?

I logged on to paypal today to check it out and there hasn't been a single donation to my worthy cause. And no.. I don't want to hear anything from all you whiners about how I should get a job. I've got a job and one that pays pretty damn well too! The only problem is, it's not enough to MAKE DAVID RICH and that's just not gonna fly anymore.

So here's what I want you to do.

1. Go to facebook and join the group "Make David Rich".

2. Join in the lively discussion in the forum. State your opinions. Don't be afraid to opine. But in the end swing on back around to my viewpoint.

3. Dig deep and pull out 50 cents or 20 bucks or what-have-you and give it to me via my paypal account.

It's kinda like sex. It's easy, it feels good, and after it's all over you wonder where all your money went!

Dear Penthouse Forum

“Dear Penthouse Forum,

I never thought it would happen to me, and now that it still hasn’t, I thought I simply just HAD to write to tell you all about what it wasn’t…”

Perhaps the letter I would have written if really HAD happened. Of course.. it didn’t…

Tonight the kids and I went and ate at the Fuddrucker’s over in Brody Oaks Plaza. This is one of the many places I worked at when I was a teenager and is, therefore, one of the many places I was fired from. Of course, the kids were only slightly less bored by this fact than they were by the Great American Hotdog Eating Contest which was showing on the multiple televisions arrayed strategically around the dining room. There’s no fucking way you aren’t gonna watch TV at Fuddrucker’s. They’ve made certain of that.

As we were leaving, I drove around the back of the shopping center. That’s when I remembered her.

I don’t remember her name, but I do remember her beautiful brown hair… her dark eyes… the downy softness of her moustache.

That’s right. She had a moustache and had not figured out that the dark hair over the upper lip was reminiscent of Freddy Mercury and none too attractive. And yet, to me, she was beautiful…

“My sister is in Penthouse.” She said it as if it were a challenge. We were hanging out in the wooded area just behind the shopping center. We were on our lunch break and were both decked out in our white jeans and white Fuddrucker’s shirts. It was the uniform du jour for Fuddrucker’s – the upscale burger joint we both worked at.

“Oh yeah?” I replied. I wasn’t sure what to do with that information in the same way I wasn’t sure what to do with this girl who was hanging out in the woods with me.

“Yeah… she didn’t get the centerfold or anything but she’s in there. You should check it out… she’s really pretty.”

“Uh… yeah.. okay… sure…” What was I supposed to say to that? I was 16, looked all of about 12 and the only way I had ever gotten my hands on a dirty magazine was either by finding them in dumpsters or by digging them out from under my father’s friend’s closet when we were visiting his house. I sure as hell wasn’t going to be able to just pick up a copy of her naked sister on display at the nearest 7-11!

“You ever been with a girl?” she asked.

“Uh… well.. I mean… I’m with you right now!”

“No dumbass… I mean… have you ever been WITH a girl? I mean… have you ever… you know… gotten laid?”

“Ohhhh… “ I said it as if it spoke for itself. Of course, I never had. I’d never even been close. The most I’d ever done w/a girl at that point was to kiss my mother’s friend’s daughter on the lips when we were about 8. After that everything kind of came to a stop.

“So have you? I bet you haven’t… I bet you’re still a virgin.”

“Uhh well.. I mean… yeah… well I mean.. no… I mean.. yeah… I’m still a virgin. I guess.”

“You guess. You’ve either done it or you haven’t done it. It’s not an ‘I guess’ kind of thing.” Her tone was mean. I was the smallest thing in the world at that moment.

“Well I mean… yeah.. I’m a virgin… okay? I’ve never done it with anyone. What about you? Have you?”

“Duh! Of course I have! Who hasn’t done it?” I was surprised by this. As far as I knew none of my friends had done it. The fact that she had seemed completely out of place to me.

“Oh yeah? Who did you do it with?” I asked this, not realizing I might not want to know the answer. I asked it, not knowing she might not want to tell me. In any case, I wasn’t prepared for what followed.

She shouted, “I don’t want to talk about it okay!”, and then got up and ran up the short hill to the road behind the shopping center. When I caught up to her, she was crying and wouldn’t speak to me. We walked most of the way back to the restaurant in silence. Then, as we got near the back door she turned to me and said, “You tell anyone and I’ll hunt you down and kill you. I’ll cut your head off and shit down your neck. You fucking tell anyone and I’ll make you wish you were dead!”

I kind of wished I was anyway. “Hey look I’m sorry… what did I say? I just asked who you did it with? Is that so bad? Hey listen.. stop crying okay? I’m not gonna tell anyone… I promise… It’ll be our secret. I swear…” She looked me up and down and then slowly nodded her head.

“We gotta back in now. You’d better not tell anyone. I got enough problems without you telling anyone.” I figured it must be so to get such a reaction out of her. I figured I’d wait until later to discuss the moustache with her.