Steve Jobs first big applause line in the iPod speach was “it’s a phone”. The second was “you can hear voicemail in the order you choose.
The “smartphone” trend all about using a phone for everything but making phone calls and listening to voice mail. A naive focus on technology, competitive advantage, or customer requests all leads engineers and marketers to stuff more features into the phone and neglect what the user is really trying to do.
I’d like a version of the iPhone with really big keys with indented numbers so you can dial with fractional attention. Use the keypad to protect that beautiful, fragile-looking screen.
Summary: It looks gorgeous, and I want one:
* when I can add my own software
* after the model gets introduced that doesn’t break in less than 30 days
Does this exist yet? It’s like the widgets that let you email your legislator, but instead it uses Skypeout, Gizmo Callout, or other service. You have reminder text about the bill number and the topic. You push the button to ring out to the congresscritter and talk to a staffer or leave a message. If the service was developed in a brandable fashion, it could be subsidized by EFF or the Sierra Club or the NRA or whoever.
For that matter, Congress needs VOIP service. A public office could setting up a voice presense handle and use it for inbound calls. Is anybody doing this yet?
Thank you for smoking is a satire of the sanctimony and hypocrisy of the anti-smoking crusade. The anti-hero is Nick Naylor, uber-flack for the tobacco industry, played by Aaron Eckhard with a cat-that-swallowed-the-canary grin. The movie sets you up to root for the spinmeister as he talks his way out of jams in board meetings and press conferences, and charms talk show audiences, elementary school kids, a congressional hearing, and his hero-worshipping young son. Our trickster anti-hero outsmarts santimonious opponents including Senator Finisterre, a sourpuss Vermont legislator whose birkenstock sandals and desk covered in maple syrup flasks (everyone is bought, the question is who’s paying the bill); Finisterre’s hapless nerdy aide; and an attractive, conscience-free journalist who will do anything to get an expose (played by Katie Holmes in a fine display of starlet non-acting).
The best part of the movie is the sharp script, adapted from Christopher Buckley’s novel. The second best part is Aaron Eckhart’s pr guy who can charm almost anyone into believing that smoking is a statement for personal freedom. The third best is are the sets and setup; the sinister burger joint, with leatherette benches and toxic-looking burgers fries and pies, where Naylor meets his counterparts in the alcohol and firearms pr; the black man in pink suits who put the coffin of Robert Duval’s tobacco executive in the ground, leaving him with one last mint julep (evil and entitled to the end); the wood paneling and styrofoam ceiling in Naylor’s office.
In trickster stories, you root for the clever, glib bad guy, and he is run out of town in the end. You know he’s going to come back; there is an endless tension between smug authority figures and wily, anarchic rebels. The filmmakers leave the trickster triumphant. The moral promoted by Naylor — and by the director in the DVD aftermatter — is a libertarian message to “think for yourself.” And I think that libertarians are played like fiddles by corporatists who use the rhetoric of enterprise and individual freedom to promote policies that make the world a lot worse (global warming, anyone). I liked the movie, and would rather see the trickster in his customary place.
How did experimentation become accepted as a primary way of doing science? Leviathan and the Airpump,the history of science classic by Stephen Shapin and Simon Schaffer, looks at the historical transition in Restoration England, when the culture of experiment was just being invented. The book chronicles the dispute between Robert Boyle of the Royal Society, pioneers of experimental science, and Thomas Hobbes, whose work in political philosophy has been remembered, and whose work on mechanical philosophy, short on experiment and long on reasoned “proof”, has been largely forgotten.
It is an interesting question. Why, with the ability to demonstrate whether a scientific statement can be supported by facts, would someone choose to avoid experiment? Hobbes argues a few key points. Facts in the real world are messy. Boyle’s pump leaked, no two pumps were alike to permit replication; and there were other problems that led the results of experiments to be much more ambiguous than they appear in textbooks. Most important, Hobbes objected to the lack of causal logic. In geometry, Hobbes’ canonical form of natural philosophy, reasoned statements proceed methodically from axioms to incontrovertable conclusions. In purely empirical science, relationships between observation and conclusion are more ambiguous.
By contrasting Hobbes and Boyle, I wonder whether the authors stack the deck to maximise the contrast. Even within his peer group of experimentalists, Boyle was notoriously reticent to theorize. There are other pioneering experimentalists (Galileo, Huygens) who did more math; and whose process interleaved experimentation and mathematical theory. It seems as though Hobbes might have fewer problems with, say, Huygens’ work on pendulums.
The insight I found most interesting is the way the book shows how arguments in defense of alternative scientific methods were not only about how to prove knowledge, but about how to organize society. Both sides were anxious about maintaining civil order in the aftermath of the English civil war, and promoted their respective methods as processes for reaching agreement peaceably. Hobbes’ focused on creating geometric-style proofs that are so airtight that dispute is impossible. Boyle focused on removing philosophic discourse from the contentious topics of politics and religion, and allowing free argument on agreed facts.
One frustrating aspect of the book arises from its methodological refusal to be ahistorical. Responding to the tradition, in the history of science, of reading history from the perspective of known winners, and solved problems, the authors take the opposite approach, and try to present the world of 17th century natural philosophy without any more information than contemporaries had; the reader is left with the same puzzlement about “anomalous suspension”, cohering disks of marble, and other puzzles that did not get solved in the time frame under consideration. What’s more, the authors are deliberately anti-concerned with the scientific outcome.
I understand why the authors chose not to step out of the frame of 17th century knowledge and understanding; but I’d understand the content better with some additional glosses and appendices about the conclusions of later scientific work. Apparently, this book, Robert Boyle’s Experiments in Pneumatics. written in the 50s by James Conant, actually explains the science, and used copies are on the market.
The book belongs to school in the history of science that focuses on the sociology of science. I’ve heard three Bruno Latour references in the last week and need to pick up the thread there. The extreme side of the argument claims that there is nothing but sociology; but that takes us to Bush political appointees censoring global warming and forbidding the national park service to estimate the age of the Grand Canyon. It is useful to bracket science in order to understand its social context, but dangerous to assert that all knowledge is opinion and belief.