Ok, I may have to take that stupid Feedburner ticker off my page. It lies! Seriously, no ego there – I know for a fact that my number of readers is greater than (okay, fine, maybe equal to) my shoe size.
My UK shoe size.
I think the issue is that it tracks who accesses the Feedburner feed rather than the Blogger/Atom or whatever feed. Blogger recently posted some information on how to integrate the two, but I think it does so by redirecting Blogger traffic to Feedburner. But I don’t want to do that, because the Feedburner page is ugly! Hmmph.
Apparently Microsoft offers something similar, but Feedburner is owned by Google and Google >>> Microsoft.
I don’t know where I’m going with this, except maybe to suggest that maybe Sho and RSS don’t mix… “Really Simple” my left foot.
Tuesday 24 July 2007
Oxymorons
I’m constantly surprised at people’s disbelief when they find out I’m American, accent notwithstanding. A year ago I would’ve jumped up and down with glee at that fact. Now I just find it mildly interesting.
The thing is, I’ve drawn an important conclusion after living in London for nearly a year. I used to think I had more in common with the average Brit than the average American– reserved, slightly passive-aggressive, with a sense of humour that needs to be washed down with a pint (dry, in case that wasn’t clear). Actually, those things are still largely true of me. But the conclusion I’ve made is this: being around people so similar to myself kind of, well, sucks.
There’s something to be said for friendliness, and I noticed the difference in cultures even when I travelled up to Edinburgh. As annoyed as I can get by people, I’m finding that it’s far more pleasant to be around a gregarious crowd. I met more interesting people during a weekend in Scotland than the entire month of May in London. I would’ve chalked it up to the novelty factor, but even seasoned Londoners will largely agree (while still looking down their noses).
That said, get a Brit drunk and he/she will likely be sloppier than an Irish or Scottish counterpart. And the impropriety of the English workplace – be it dress code, language, or flirtations – continues to confound me. Interesting.
The thing is, I’ve drawn an important conclusion after living in London for nearly a year. I used to think I had more in common with the average Brit than the average American– reserved, slightly passive-aggressive, with a sense of humour that needs to be washed down with a pint (dry, in case that wasn’t clear). Actually, those things are still largely true of me. But the conclusion I’ve made is this: being around people so similar to myself kind of, well, sucks.
There’s something to be said for friendliness, and I noticed the difference in cultures even when I travelled up to Edinburgh. As annoyed as I can get by people, I’m finding that it’s far more pleasant to be around a gregarious crowd. I met more interesting people during a weekend in Scotland than the entire month of May in London. I would’ve chalked it up to the novelty factor, but even seasoned Londoners will largely agree (while still looking down their noses).
That said, get a Brit drunk and he/she will likely be sloppier than an Irish or Scottish counterpart. And the impropriety of the English workplace – be it dress code, language, or flirtations – continues to confound me. Interesting.
Tuesday 17 July 2007
Flummoxed.
Two and a half months since Madeleine McCann went missing.
A few co-workers of mine were discussing how tragic the situation is just a couple of days ago. And of course it is tragic. No parent should have to go through that kind of torture, and I sincerely hope, futile as it may be, that no harm has come to her.
Now J.K. Rowling is using the launch of Harry Potter VII to raise awareness about the plight of missing children worldwide, with Madeleine as the poster child. It’s admirable that she felt moved to the point where she’s using her considerable influence to promote a worthy cause.
What’s incomprehensible, though, is the mass outpouring of sorrow for the Madeleines and the Natalees of the world, and the indifference towards Darfur, Congo, or Iraq. Nicholas Kristof actually wrote a column on this strange phenomenon entitled “Save the Darfur Puppy,” which you can find here. It reminds me of a story a friend of mine once told me – how one man, in an incident of particularly destructive road rage, threw another driver’s dog into traffic. People went absolutely mental over the incident. I probably would too, as I adore dogs. But what kind of sense does it make that people are so moved by Fido, and not at all by scores of civilian deaths – oh, sorry, “collateral damage” – in a single instance in Iraq? Why does no one care that no one is keeping a bona fide count of civilian casualties Iraq, or that the means to do so does not even exist?
I guess the only explanation, as stated in the column above, is that our capacity to feel and empathize is severely limited. And that will probably serve as our best evolutionary advantage, given the state of the world we live in.
Friday 13 July 2007
Not all 5-year plans are stifling.
I need to tell you how much I love Marks & Spencer.
How many high street retailers do you see massively promoting initiatives such as this?
“Because there is no Plan B.” I absolutely love it.
Any prepared meal you buy from M&S carries a label detailing how to dispose of each part of the product: Film recycled through plastics, sleeve recycled through papers, tray recycled through plastics. Common sense? Sure. But the extra effort is commendable.
Factoring in environmental concerns invariably raises the price of products. The most impressive part is that M&S has undertaken this scheme while it’s still in a relatively delicate situation following recent financial woes. Its profits have increased measurably over the past couple of years, but it’s still in no position to compete with the Evil Empire. Nor should it try. M&S has been so successful at pushing its green campaign that it’s forced Tesco to commit to its own line of fair trade products. In doing so, they’ve helped to change the rules of the game. It’s quite possible to argue, somewhat cynically, that the green initiative was conceived solely to establish a trendy campaign with universal appeal. But it’s raising awareness regardless, and that counts for something.
Not all liberals hate corporations. Many would simply like to see a greater amount of corporate accountability accepted by a greater number of successful firms. Thanks, M&S, for being a pacesetter.
How many high street retailers do you see massively promoting initiatives such as this?
“Because there is no Plan B.” I absolutely love it.
Any prepared meal you buy from M&S carries a label detailing how to dispose of each part of the product: Film recycled through plastics, sleeve recycled through papers, tray recycled through plastics. Common sense? Sure. But the extra effort is commendable.
Factoring in environmental concerns invariably raises the price of products. The most impressive part is that M&S has undertaken this scheme while it’s still in a relatively delicate situation following recent financial woes. Its profits have increased measurably over the past couple of years, but it’s still in no position to compete with the Evil Empire. Nor should it try. M&S has been so successful at pushing its green campaign that it’s forced Tesco to commit to its own line of fair trade products. In doing so, they’ve helped to change the rules of the game. It’s quite possible to argue, somewhat cynically, that the green initiative was conceived solely to establish a trendy campaign with universal appeal. But it’s raising awareness regardless, and that counts for something.
Not all liberals hate corporations. Many would simply like to see a greater amount of corporate accountability accepted by a greater number of successful firms. Thanks, M&S, for being a pacesetter.
For the micromanagers
Dear Economist...
Published: July 13 2007 09:04 Last updated: July 13 2007 09:04
Dear Economist,
My diary is back-to-back meetings from 9am to 6pm almost every day. These are not meetings I can avoid, and often I am double and triple booked. As well as this, I have real work to do. Having delegated everything I can to my team, I still find it difficult to leave the office before 8pm most days. This has gone on long enough! What should I do to get back control of my diary?
PM, via e-mail
Dear PM,
Your diary displays communist tendencies. Your delight in Stakhanovite posing shows the old communist confusion between input and output. This reached an extreme in Mao’s great leap forward, where kitchen utensils were melted down in order to produce...more kitchen utensils.
You are also making the classic central-planner’s error, trying to run a team without giving anybody else real decision-making authority. You say you are delegating all you can, but are evidently not doing it. And with you booked to attend more meetings than there are hours in the day, I am willing to bet your subordinates know a lot more about what needs to be done than you do.
You simply need to introduce the price system into your little politburo. Charge by the hour, as do lawyers or psychiatrists. Better, auction off spaces in your diary to the highest bidder. The bidders could include clients, superiors, or subordinates. If they want your attention, they’ll have to find the cash.
If the total sum raised exceeds your salary, many congratulations! You will have justified your existence and at the same time cut out all those time-wasting, low-value activities. However, I fear that you may find less demand for your unique talents than you anticipate. Stand ready to offer a discount.
source
Published: July 13 2007 09:04 Last updated: July 13 2007 09:04
Dear Economist,
My diary is back-to-back meetings from 9am to 6pm almost every day. These are not meetings I can avoid, and often I am double and triple booked. As well as this, I have real work to do. Having delegated everything I can to my team, I still find it difficult to leave the office before 8pm most days. This has gone on long enough! What should I do to get back control of my diary?
PM, via e-mail
Dear PM,
Your diary displays communist tendencies. Your delight in Stakhanovite posing shows the old communist confusion between input and output. This reached an extreme in Mao’s great leap forward, where kitchen utensils were melted down in order to produce...more kitchen utensils.
You are also making the classic central-planner’s error, trying to run a team without giving anybody else real decision-making authority. You say you are delegating all you can, but are evidently not doing it. And with you booked to attend more meetings than there are hours in the day, I am willing to bet your subordinates know a lot more about what needs to be done than you do.
You simply need to introduce the price system into your little politburo. Charge by the hour, as do lawyers or psychiatrists. Better, auction off spaces in your diary to the highest bidder. The bidders could include clients, superiors, or subordinates. If they want your attention, they’ll have to find the cash.
If the total sum raised exceeds your salary, many congratulations! You will have justified your existence and at the same time cut out all those time-wasting, low-value activities. However, I fear that you may find less demand for your unique talents than you anticipate. Stand ready to offer a discount.
source
Thursday 12 July 2007
Aggravation
Damn vending machines!
It hadn’t happened to me in awhile, so I guess it only makes sense that my NutriGrain bar got stuck in the machine today. But the worst part is, it seemed I couldn’t wail on the machine hard enough to free the wrapper from its grasp.
At first I thought that the people watching me would barely take notice and walk away without a word, as is the British way. But one nice girl tried to enlist the help of a prissy British boy, who was hesitant to even give the thing a tap for fear of hurting himself because “Waaah, the machine’s so much bigger than me!” Um, hello? I guess if he’d seen me palming and side kicking the thing he might’ve been slightly ashamed.
I actually did palm strike and side kick the machine several times.
I felt a little better when two boys decidedly stronger than me (and therefore obviously stronger than the prissy British boy) teamed up and still failed to get the stupid NutriGrain bar out. I don’t even like NutriGrain bars that much, but I needed something to sustain me for later in the afternoon. It was just so profoundly disappointing that my TKD skills failed to solve a problem that I thought I’d never have to face again. I was so proud that time before an Econometrics exam when my tropical Skittles got stuck in the Q-level vending machine and I made it pay with a single palm strike. Those were the days...
It hadn’t happened to me in awhile, so I guess it only makes sense that my NutriGrain bar got stuck in the machine today. But the worst part is, it seemed I couldn’t wail on the machine hard enough to free the wrapper from its grasp.
At first I thought that the people watching me would barely take notice and walk away without a word, as is the British way. But one nice girl tried to enlist the help of a prissy British boy, who was hesitant to even give the thing a tap for fear of hurting himself because “Waaah, the machine’s so much bigger than me!” Um, hello? I guess if he’d seen me palming and side kicking the thing he might’ve been slightly ashamed.
I actually did palm strike and side kick the machine several times.
I felt a little better when two boys decidedly stronger than me (and therefore obviously stronger than the prissy British boy) teamed up and still failed to get the stupid NutriGrain bar out. I don’t even like NutriGrain bars that much, but I needed something to sustain me for later in the afternoon. It was just so profoundly disappointing that my TKD skills failed to solve a problem that I thought I’d never have to face again. I was so proud that time before an Econometrics exam when my tropical Skittles got stuck in the Q-level vending machine and I made it pay with a single palm strike. Those were the days...
Wednesday 11 July 2007
Forbidden questions
When I went to India in April, everyone on my father’s side of the family asked me one main question: some variation of “When are you getting married?” Everyone on my mother’s side of the family also asked just one main question: “When are you going back to school?”
At least one side of the family is progressive…but only relatively speaking. When anyone on my mom’s side claims that they favour their daughters getting married “at a later age,” that translates to 26, maybe 27 years old. Do they not realise that we’re living in a country where average life expectancy for women is around 80 years old? 50+ years is a freaking long time to spend with someone, and I don’t understand the rush. There’s substantial evidence that women who marry later and therefore have children later raise children who are more socially and economically successful than women who start having kids earlier (read Freakonomics). And it makes perfect sense, as it allows for women to pursue further education and better careers that provide increased financial stability and independence. Call me crazy, but I think that’s worthy of more admiration and celebration than getting married young and cranking out babies straight away. Yes, it means a shortened time frame for having kids, but that’s not such a bad thing. No one needs to be having ten kids in this day and age.
Maybe part of the appeal lies in the fact that we have fewer and fewer legitimate reasons to celebrate ourselves as we get older, and so everyone gets starry-eyed over an event that brings them attention, gifts, and an excuse to dress up. And hey, if it doesn’t work out, you can always have a do-over with spouse # whatever to celebrate yourself all over again!
At least one side of the family is progressive…but only relatively speaking. When anyone on my mom’s side claims that they favour their daughters getting married “at a later age,” that translates to 26, maybe 27 years old. Do they not realise that we’re living in a country where average life expectancy for women is around 80 years old? 50+ years is a freaking long time to spend with someone, and I don’t understand the rush. There’s substantial evidence that women who marry later and therefore have children later raise children who are more socially and economically successful than women who start having kids earlier (read Freakonomics). And it makes perfect sense, as it allows for women to pursue further education and better careers that provide increased financial stability and independence. Call me crazy, but I think that’s worthy of more admiration and celebration than getting married young and cranking out babies straight away. Yes, it means a shortened time frame for having kids, but that’s not such a bad thing. No one needs to be having ten kids in this day and age.
Maybe part of the appeal lies in the fact that we have fewer and fewer legitimate reasons to celebrate ourselves as we get older, and so everyone gets starry-eyed over an event that brings them attention, gifts, and an excuse to dress up. And hey, if it doesn’t work out, you can always have a do-over with spouse # whatever to celebrate yourself all over again!
My new computer background
I could stare at this picture all day. Which is why it's on my personal computer, and not the work one...
Tuesday 10 July 2007
Are you effing kidding me?
No. NO. NOOOOOOO!
How are these people even serious?
And what's next?
"Hmm...algebra is way too hard for kids to learn. Let's make a whole new, easier set of rules, beginning with that quadratic formula. [-b + and - sqrt (b^2-4ac)]/2a is now simply b + and - 2. All roots will universally be accepted as b + and - 2 going forward. Now we'll have lots of kids doing better at algebra."
Yeah, I remembered that formula off the top of my head, and yeah, that was me showing off just a tad.
Seriously, though, what kind of sense does it make to change an entire language because some people are too dumb to learn it properly? Seems like a scary precedent to me. I'd love to watch advocates of changing "learn" to "lern" try to learn Mandarin, where in addition to spelling, they'd have worry about roughly eight different intonations per syllable. Spelling "anyone" properly doesn't seem so bad now, does it?
How are these people even serious?
And what's next?
"Hmm...algebra is way too hard for kids to learn. Let's make a whole new, easier set of rules, beginning with that quadratic formula. [-b + and - sqrt (b^2-4ac)]/2a is now simply b + and - 2. All roots will universally be accepted as b + and - 2 going forward. Now we'll have lots of kids doing better at algebra."
Yeah, I remembered that formula off the top of my head, and yeah, that was me showing off just a tad.
Seriously, though, what kind of sense does it make to change an entire language because some people are too dumb to learn it properly? Seems like a scary precedent to me. I'd love to watch advocates of changing "learn" to "lern" try to learn Mandarin, where in addition to spelling, they'd have worry about roughly eight different intonations per syllable. Spelling "anyone" properly doesn't seem so bad now, does it?
Tuesday 3 July 2007
fvck fvck fvck
Busy few days in the UK.
Car bombs defused outside Tiger Tiger.
Burning car rams Glasgow Airport.
Suspect package at Stansted Airport.
Terminal 4 at Heathrow, which I'm due to fly out of in 18 hours, evacuated due to bomb threat.
Awesome timing. When I moved out here in August, the liquid attack had been foiled just days earlier, and passengers could only bring clear pastic bags of non-liquid toiletries on board. I miss the good old days when flying was fun.
Well, to be fair, I've never found flying particularly fun. So, I miss the good old days when you could get to the airport 20 minutes before your departure time and still have a chance of making the plane, when security and immigration queues weren't overloaded and understaffed, and when the whole experience wasn't tainted by logic-numbing paranoia.
Car bombs defused outside Tiger Tiger.
Burning car rams Glasgow Airport.
Suspect package at Stansted Airport.
Terminal 4 at Heathrow, which I'm due to fly out of in 18 hours, evacuated due to bomb threat.
Awesome timing. When I moved out here in August, the liquid attack had been foiled just days earlier, and passengers could only bring clear pastic bags of non-liquid toiletries on board. I miss the good old days when flying was fun.
Well, to be fair, I've never found flying particularly fun. So, I miss the good old days when you could get to the airport 20 minutes before your departure time and still have a chance of making the plane, when security and immigration queues weren't overloaded and understaffed, and when the whole experience wasn't tainted by logic-numbing paranoia.
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