The 70s - When Laziness Really Got Going

Our house was built in 1979. Apparently in those days, a "must-have" feature in a house in this neighborhood was an intercom system. This is the last one, out on the patio, that I have yet to remove. All four bedrooms had one that I've pulled from the wall, leaving giant boxy holes. They're not repaired yet, just covered with framed pictures, and I suppose they could make great wall safes someday. The "master unit" of this system was in the kitchen, where you could make all the rooms listen to a radio station if you chose. All the units could speak to each other and answer a caller at the door. Now mind you, the house is not that large, which makes the need to talk to someone in the next room via an intercom seem a little ridiculous.

"Dinner's ready!" the mother of this house in 1979 would intone quietly from the kitchen intercom to her children in the far, far reaches of the 2,200 square foot space, then she'd let the Top 40 station continue playing into their rooms. Dad out at the pool on Saturday would hear the doorbell chime. Then he'd grab a towel and instead of just peeking in the patio door through the living room and into the foyer to see the caller at the door, he'd push the "talk" button on the intercom and say, "Yes? Hello?" After no response, Dad would say into the intercom, "You have to push the talk button to talk, then release it to listen." Then they'd talk over each other a little and finally Dad, frustrated, would go answer the door. It was probably the Jehovah's Witnesses. And late at night when the parents were asleep, younger brother could call his older brother in the next room and whisper, "I know you have marijuana. I'm gonna tell if you don't give me some."

I was looking at this stupid contraption on the patio with detached bemusement, disdaining anyone who ever used it, wondering what sort of idiots ever put it to use more than once, just to see the novelty of it. Then I remembered that I've been guilty of calling my own children to the table by texting "dinner" to their phones. And now I'm thinking I might not remove this one. It's sort of a museum piece to me at this point, a relic from another era, a reminder that as we grow more advanced, finding new ways to make life easier, we sacrifice a little something, usually some human interaction, with each forward step.

Crossposted to Radio Free Babylon.

Living Color

I had a great aunt who lived in Rochester, New York, home of Kodak. I only visited her home once as a boy, and I remember being disappointed that she didn't take me to tour the great temple of the photography gods. Aunt Angeline is gone now. And so is Kodachrome.

All things must pass, and seldom do I lament their passing, but today is a little different as we mourn the crossing of Kodachrome to the great beyond. Cassette tapes? Yeah - goodbye, glad you're gone. VCRs? I cringe at your bulky antiquity. Same goes for most outdated technology (except reel-to-reel multi-track decks). But Kodachrome had no equal.

I long ago switched to digital and haven't shot on film in years, much less Kodachrome, but it WAS a magical film. (And any REAL photographer will tell you that digital cannot be held in the same class as film.) And how, WHY would we hang on to that technology in the face of the digital SLR?  It just didn't make sense anymore to PAY for film, PAY to have it developed, and then HOPE that half your images didn't suck when they finally arrived.

Kodachrome was to still images what Technicolor was to moving pictures. Why do you suppose we love the apps that turn our iPhone pictures into neo-retro relics of another era? Just do an image search for Kodachrome and see what all these old-timers are crying about. That little yellow box turned color photography into art.

And since so many people in marking its passing will quote Paul Simon's 1973 song of the same name, I will post an old ad for Kodachrome with the body copy replaced by the poetic highlights of Mr. Simon's lyrics that captured the magic of the product. (Click it, like a shutter button.)

I half expect a camera crew to accost Paul Simon soon as he leaves his New York apartment, begging for a comment on the death of his old friend and collaborator.   

(Original ad found here at THE technical source for what made Kodachrome great. Also, the original ad's copy will let you kids know what it was like to actually have to WAIT to see your pictures.)

Have You Eaten of the Tree, Whereof I Commanded You That You Should Not Eat?

If you can keep up with Apple, good for you. I sure can't. Can't afford to. But they are masters at force-feeding their devotees the next big thing. Nevermind that those of us who use it have discovered its many flaws, not the least of which is the partnership with AT&T. Doesn't matter though. It's sleek. It does cool things. It just feels so good in your hand. What will you pay for that feeling? Plenty. And you don't want to be left behind, do you? Like a junkie, you will get one. Can't get enough. And in a year, you will get the next one.

Below is a new email marketing effort from Apple. It's smug and arrogant, like Apple, and basically laughs in your face. The "This changes everything" line is so overused in tech advertising. So is "Again." as a standalone sentence. My take on it after that.

Your MOM is Redundant!

A new series, wherein I will highlight some job, technology or industry that refuses to die. (Who am I kidding? This will probably be the only one in the series.) 

(Click for better legibility.)

Will It Blend?

UPDATE: Correction: Yes it will blend, if you first break it in half.

Power Outage Night™

With a huge chunk of my state powerless this afternoon it's the perfect time to do some self-promotion for a little program I came up with some time ago that has attracted zero attention and no media coverage since its unveiling a couple of years ago. It's actually fun and educational - and when combined with toast, juice and milk - is part of a balanced breakfast that can help build strong bodies.

It's called Power Outage Night™ (and I put a little ™ on it to make it look all official and well-developed.) Here it is for your review or trial. It's just a simple little way to temporarily rid your life of the technological and informational clutter we all deal with ever more frequently.

It's not for everyone, as silence scares the crap out of some people and they don't know how to deal with their own thoughts (or an actual conversation) if they aren't accompanied by music blasting in their ear canals while they play Guitar Hero as they watch American Idol and then fall asleep (or pass out) to Stephen Colbert on their TVs, to be awakened overnight by the vibration of incoming emails on the Blackberry or iPhone and music from the alarm clock at sunrise signaling it's time to do it all over again. Coffee, Alcohol, Repeat™. (Might have to trademark that one, too.)

A Revolution in Phones

Introducing....

My beat up old Motorola V400. Works great. Lasts a long time. Makes and receives phone calls. Has speed dial. Can text message and browse web (if I ever wanted to do that on a phone.) Alarm clock, games, datebook. And much, much more.

Way too much hype surrounding the iPhone. I really don't care to watch an episode of The Office on a tiny screen in my hands. I watch TV on my TV. I don't need to receive images from your vacation on my phone. I don't want to download music to my phone. I have an MP3 player for that. (And a note to all you ringtone downloaders: Knock it off. It's stupid. Make your phone ring, please. Or better yet, VIBRATE. Don't subject me to your favorite whining new emo tune or some Miami salsa sap.)

I need a phone for phone calls. That's all.

Hey, Steve Jobs. Don't need it. Won't be holding my breath until June. Bet you the price of an iPhone that my V400 still works fine by then.

All you salivating gadget junkies are far too connected. You'd accept email in your sleep if Jobs found a way to do that for you. Go off the grid for a few hours. It's liberating.