Spam has no shelf life

Recently, I’ve been using Twitter a lot.  I find it to be fairly useful for me, because it cuts down on the miscellany I post to the Internet as walls of text (like this blog).  If I’m excited or upset about some little thing, rather than coming over here or to my LiveJournal clone, I’ll just make a tweet.  It keeps that kind of stuff from spilling over into the Blivet.  Well, not entirely, because I do have a Twitter widget here, so that shit still gets thrown into my five-pound sack. It’s just in a separate compartment.

It seems everybody’s favorite scourge, the Internet spammer, likes Twitter, too. A little while ago I blocked my first truly spam mention. It was basically “@you this product does x”.  I’m sure now that I am out there on this service I will be getting a lot more of those. I’m not even counting the business accounts that have started following me because I mentioned something to do with their products, like John Fluevog Shoes, or the Gundam website that started following me after I replied to a friend’s post. Those at least are somewhat targeted. I mentioned their product/interest, so they picked me up as someone who might have an interest in their product. What I am counting as true spam is the completely unsolicited, and unprovoked scatter gun messages like I received today.

The Blivet, too, has gotten its share of spam. Since this blog went live, it has received nine comments; all of them were Viagra advertisements. Most were made to my flight post. I am still trying to figure that out, because I’ve made other posts since then, but they don’t seem to be a spam magnet in the same way.

I’m not here to complain about spam. Because, let’s face it, there is not a whole lot I can do about it. Both WordPress and my Twitter client make it easy to filter, block, and report. E-mail clients, some antivirus software, and our ISPs give us anti-spam tools, too. So I just don’t get too upset about it. It’s not worth the time and energy.

One thing I do dislike about spam, though. The name. Because — and some of you may think me crazy — I actually like SPAM. It’s actually one of my favorite meats to have with breakfast. When I was younger, my family used to have it with eggs regularly. And we would fry it up for sandwiches. Personally I find it tasty. In Hawaii, they do incredible things with the product. So I’m a little perturbed to see this venerable product maligned so, though if you look at the purported origins of the Internet term,  I guess it makes some sense.

The funny thing about it, though, and the observation that prompted me to write about this today, is that spam has been with us long before Twitter, or blogs, or e-mail, or Monty Python’s Flying Circus. Even before SPAM. Think about it. Before the Internet was in widespread use, we had telemarketers. And before that got big, we had junk mail. And carry-out menus rolled up and stuck on the door. Fliers stuck under your windshield wiper. Billboards. And before electricity or massive postal services, there were guys on the street with handbills, hawking their products or their opinions to anyone who got close. And before that some guy with a half-baked scheme who stood in the Agora all day and refused to shut up.

Spam’s not new.

It’s the same old thing repackaged. The only difference now is that  there’s more of it, because the variety and capacity of communications media has expanded so much. And even with all the new technology, all the old forms of spam remain with us. Information spam has always been with us. And it always will be. There’s no getting rid of it. Because it’s a function of being out there. Whether it’s on the street, or in the phone book, or on the internet. If you expose yourself to communication and information, you are are going to get some you don’t want. It’s a product of our social nature. And as long as we expand our capacity to communicate, the amount of it will increase. And even if we shut one source down, another will come to take it’s place. You can’t get rid of it. The most you can do is find some way to filter it; tune out the noise so that you can get the information you need. Information spam, unlike the canned meat product, has no shelf life.

What will spam’s next frontier be?

“We’ve got good reasons for banning Vicodin. Also, I’m STUPID.

“How can you mix a highly addictive drug with one that can cause toxicity at high doses?” asks Dr. William Lee, director of the Clinical Center for Liver Diseases at the University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center. Lee presented data to the committee on liver damage due to acetaminophen overdose. “It’s like putting poison in a candy.”1

The point the doctor is trying to underscore here (I think) is that if folks were, say, to be prescribed more Vicodin or Percocet for their pain because their tolerance to the narcotic component had increased, they would then also be getting a higher dose of acetaminophen, too. And that would put them at greater risk of liver damage from too much acetaminophen. I won’t comment on the validity of the concern, as I’m not a doctor. But I do know that implying that people who are legitimately prescribed these drugs are taking them because they want to, as Lee does in his analogy, is stupid. Jesus, he’s a doctor. He should damn well know better.

The FDA and Painkillers: What’s Safe Now?

Independence Day

Hare Krishna Members Marching in DC Independence Day Parade

What do Hare Krishnas have to do with U.S. Independence Day?

Two years ago, I decided to go to the Smithsonian Folklife Festival on the National Mall. The folklife festival is one of those events that I know exists, but that I perennially forget about. On July 4 2007 I remembered about it and decided I wanted to go. So I boarded the metro and headed into the city.

I arrived in DC pretty early, and as I walked toward the mall from from Federal Triangle station, I noticed that Constitution Ave was lined with crowds of people and it struck me that, this being Independence Day, DC would be having and Independence Day parade, like many other cities across the country. Since I could not remember ever having seen the parade, I decided to watch. So I staked out a spot on the side street the parade would come down before turning onto the main path down Constitution.

I saw all the usual stuff one might expect. Units of the nations armed service marching in their dress uniforms, high school marching bands, veterans. A big Uncle Sam balloon, floats.

Represented in the parade were various cultures that make up the rich tapestry of this land we call the United States of America. Bolivian dancers, a Falun Gong float and marching band (the biggest band there, incidentally), FIlippino-American and Vietnamese-American organizations, and, yes, the Hare Krishnas.

And now, after all of this reverie, the point: Standing near me, with his wife and young son, was a gentleman some years older than me. I’d say probably five to ten years. At one point during the parade, shortly after the Vietnamese-American group had passed us by, he announced that he and his family were leaving because “he didn’t come to see all these ‘foreigners’.”

In this moment I found myself possessed by anger. I wanted to respond to this gentleman with something clever and biting. To point out to him that he, too, is a “foreigner.” That his ancestors, like all the people marching that day, were immigrants to this land, though their situations may be far-removed in both time and place. That the land is home is on would be considered by some to be hot property, in that the spread of America was accomplished at the expense of those who had been here first. But I didn’t. Because I do not like confrontation, and because that gentleman is entitled to his opinion, no matter how wrong-headed I might believe it to be.

Here is the bottom line. Except for the indigenous peoples of North America, the “Native Americans,” from whom our government long ago took this place, there is not one of us here who is not a “foreigner,” by some definition. There are two sorts of these “foreign Americans”: those like my grandfather, who immigrated and gained their citizenship through their own labors;  and people like me, who are Americans solely by having the good fortune of being born here. (some of whom’s ancestors were wrested from their homes and forced into bondage)  Yet despite our differences, we are all Americans. We all have the same rights, duties, and responsibilities. We all reap the same benefits of our citizenship in this country. And we are all entitled to celebrate the birth, 233 years ago, now, of this nation.

It is part of our duty as Americans to realize this. To remember our country’s immigrant past. To honor the diverse cultures that come together to form our national identity. To remembet that our immigrant ancestors, whether they be Irish, or Italian, or Chinese — people who came here looking for better lives and broke their backs to help build this country — were once sneered at as foreigners. To recognize that the only way America has grown and attained greatness has been through the contribution of immigrants. And therefore to welcome those from who choose to make the sacrifice and  come to be a part of The American Dream.

Happy Independence Day!

Thoughts on Flight

The recent content of my Twitter feed may suggest otherwise, but I really love flying. That is to say, I love the bit where you are on the plane, winging your way to a distant place, seven miles high and far removed from the rat race of home and work, though oy for a few hours. I love to be able to look down on the earth from this vantage point when I have a window seat and clear skies. There are other parts of the air travel experience I’m not so fond of.

In the summer of 2001, I flew to Jacksonville Florida for work. It was my first domestic flight as an adult, and my first flight that I wasn’t in a group with some sort of minder who knew what was going on and directed us. One that trip I packed all my necessaries in one small bag. I can’t even remember if I had a “personal item.” that trip was very simple. Packed lightly as I was, I arrived at Dulles, proceeded directly to my gate, and checked in right there. I carried my one small bag with me. Everything I needed was in it. Clothes. Toiletries. And when I got to JAX, there was no waiting for baggage (well, not mine — others who were going to be in the same car as me had checked stuff). Flying that day was simple and carefree.

These days everything has changed. You need a boarding pass to get anywhere near the gates. A guy tried to to blow up a plane with a bomb in his shoes, so now we have to have our shoes x-rayed. Then people tried to do mix on-site explosives, so now we can’t bring in outside liquids. At the airport restaurant today, I was given a plastic knife and fork. Has anyone ever hijacked a plane with a fork?

I guess a little bit of inconvenience is a small price to pay to be safe. Or to at least feel safe. Until the next attack happens. Then what? I don’t want to think about it.

Today I did what I usually do these days, to try and make the airport experience as painless as possible for myself and those around me. I packed my toiletries in my main suitcase and then checked it, so I didn’t have to worry about the liquid and gel restrictions. I put all my metal in my briefcase before I got in the security line so I could just run the whole thing. I did have to tame the extra step of removing my laptop from the briefcase for the first time, since this is the first time in my life I’ve ever owned one. But it still went smoothly enough.

Easy. Carefree. Until I step out of that awful restaurant and see a monitor. “CANCELED” in big red letters. An old-fashioned difficulty. Apparently technology fell on it’s face at O’Hare, and United couldn’t check in any passengers there. So I got to sit and wait for an hour or so, second on the standby list, waiting to see if someone didn’t show up and I got to go to Seattle to see my friend today.

I did get on that plane as it turned out. Direct flight. Cuts three hours off my trip. Sweet deal, really, a better flight for the low, low price of just a little angst. And their was even room in the overhead for my briefcase.

It feels good to be flying along at 34,000 feet, instead of being pissed at the world on the ground the back home. The sky above is blue. The clouds below are white. I have calm air and music. Soon I will be in Seattle.

I love flying.

Composed somewhere over the US, between 1600 and 1700Z

Obama Smokes…So What?

Earlier this week, President Obama signed the tobacco bill, which allows the FDA “…not only to forbid advertising geared toward children but also to lower the amount of nicotine in tobacco products, ban sweetened cigarettes that appeal to young taste buds and prohibit labels like “’ight’ and ‘low tar.’”

The following day, I heard someone at work (a smoker) say “I can’t believe Obama signed that smoking bill when he still smokes.” The press have inquired about whether Mr. Obama still smokes, and some have outright said he is a hypocrite.

I say, so what if he still smokes?  This bill isn’t about the president. The bill, as its name “Family Smoking Prevention and Tobacco Control Act” implies, is aimed at preventing people, especially children from taking up smoking. This, regardless of whether the president smokes, or how often, is a good thing. Depending on how the FDA goes about enforcing things, this legislation may also encourage some current smokers to quit. This would likewise be very good. Smoking is a terrible habit. If you smoke, there is a significant chance you will have a shorter life, and one that ends in horrible pain. There’s no doubt about it. It harms the smokers, and people around them.

So president Obama smokes. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. He does so anyway.  But he acknowledges it was a mistake to start 30 years ago. Now, by signing this bill, he is doing something that may help others to avoid the same mistake? Is he a hypocrite? Some may think so. I think he’s just a human being, trying to do the right thing. Would it have been morally better to strike down this bill because he has a cigarette once in while? Let me answer that for you…NO. The only reason for him to do that would be to avoid the sort of criticism my co-worker and that pundit are levying. And that’s not honesty. That’s selfishness. The honest move, the right move, was to sign the bill and continue his struggle. To try to quit. Not as an example to others, but for himself. It won’t be easy. I know, because I am a smoker myself.

In Mass Transit, Life is Cheap

Yesterday, a train on the DC metro’s red line collided with another train. Nine people were killed. Scores  were injured. While the investigation is currently ongoing, focusing on a failure of an automatic signal system designed to prevent collision like this, the news today makes it clear that the Washington Metropolitan Transit Authority operated with a callous disregard for the safety of its passengers.

The Washington Post Reports:

“According to a Metro source knowledgeable about railcar maintenance, the first car of the striking train was two months behind on a scheduled maintenance for changing out brakes and brake components.” If there is any maintenance task you delay on a piece of heavy, inherently dangerous equipment,  the repair/replacement of safety systems is not one of them. The lead car of the striking train should never have been on the rails.

But it gets worse. According to the NTSB, there were no data recorders on the striking train, despite a NTSB request to WMATA specifically, that data recorders be installed on its trains. The recommendation was made after another crash in 2004. WMATA willfully ignored the recommendations of the agency responsible for investigating rail and airline crashes, and preventing similar accidents in the future. The lack of data recorders on this train will no doubt hamper NTSB’s investigation and make it that much harder to determine the cause of the crash and make the necessary recommendations toward preventing a similar accident in the future.

And lastly: “…the car was an older model, of a kind that Metro had been advised to replace because of concerns about how it would stand up in a collision.” These concerns appear to have been well founded, as “…impact was so powerful that the striking train car was compressed to about one-third its original size.” The passengers in the lead car were effectively in a crumple zone. It would not surprise me if NTSB’s final report indicates that the structural failure of the car contributed to the size of death toll.

Why was so much left undone? At least for the delay in retiring this aging railcar, the reason is the most spurious. MONEY. Regarding that: “Metro did not do so, its leaders said, because they believed it would be too costly and complicated. Instead, they made some improvements to the trains’ braking systems and emergency exits.”

This is unacceptable and criminal. Regardless of what the NTSB investigation determines was the ultimate cause of this tragic collision (I will not say accident, because that word implies no one is to blame), it is clear that WMATA is in gross dereliction of its duty to its riders.  In my opinion, they are as culpable as you or I would be if we stuffed somebody in a car’s trunk, then backed into a telephone pole at full speed.

I’m sure that after this collision, heads will roll at the WMATA. The question, of course, is whether they will be the right heads. But that won’t be nearly enough.

WMATA and all public transit systems need to learn one lesson from this. When you compromise on safety, PEOPLE DIE. Maybe not hundred. Maybe not every day, but sooner or later, it happens. The only thing preventing it is dumb luck. You do not play roulette with the lives of others.