Stay Tuned

I'm thinking of coming back after a hiatus of almost two years.

How's that for a writer's block. But I'm not there yet. 

My target date is the first of the year, assuming I can get a keyboard that won't run all my words together. The keyboard problem was a comedy of errors, mostly mine so I won't bore you with the details. Suffice it to say I'm in the market for either a satellite keyboard or a new machine altogether. 

Anything for the sake of art.

Bye for now.

"Murderer's Row"

What better time to think about warm weather than when you're snowed in.

It was the 1940's into the early 50's. I lived on the first floor of a six-story brick apartment building in The Bronx (note the capital T, please). Whenever weather permitted, a group of older women would sit in a line on the sidewalk in front of the entrance to the building.

I called it “Murderer's Row” because I had to walk past them whenever I entered or left. I could feel their eyes on me all the way. Although we lived in the same building, I didn't know any of them. They never said anything to me nor I to them. But they made me feel self-conscious.

To be fair, these were pre-air-conditioning days and fresh air was where you found it. If it meant sitting outside for an hour or two with friends that was what you did.

A few years ago, on the way home from the Bronx Zoo, I drove past the old neighborhood. No one sat outside buildings. Instead, there were iron gates across the entrances to most of the old apartment houses.

That was then, this is now.

I’m Psyched for Super Sunday

My costume is ready:

Down coat

Fur hat with earlaps

Wool muffler

Mittens

Heavy socks

Storm boots

Field glasses

Can’t wait for the day to begin

Eyes on the prize!

Ready to cheer

Ready to moan

Ready to thrill

For Punxatawney Phil!

IT'S GROUNDHOG DAY!

The State of My Mind

As I prepare to ignore tonight’s State of the Union Address and all those TV shots of fawning or fuming politicians sitting through it, I wonder how the “new media” will he playing it. Chances are I won’t know because I don’t get my news from new media.

Yet, according to David Carr in yesterday’s New York Times, “web news is thriving.”  Really?

Vox Media, BuzzFeed, Upworthy, ViralNova are experiencing explosive traffic, writes Carr. I’m sure I've left out others and for that I apologize. I just can’t keep up with them. In fact, the only time I come across these new names is in the newspaper. Yes, the newspaper, stolid old media.

My impression is these digital domains move content so fast they can’t possibly have time to digest or impart meaning or context to their posts. I also hope their speed doesn't compromise their accuracy. I suspect I’ll never know, since I’m wedded to getting my news from more established, credible sources.

Hence, I’ll scan tomorrow’s newspapers in print or on line to read the predictable reactions to President Obama’s State of the Union speech.

My mind will be in its usual state of muddle. 

Good News

I'm out of the wi-fi rabbit hole.

I returned the recalcitrant printer and for a few bucks more replaced it with one that works well with my laptop. Proving once again that cheap is cheap.

My first order of printing was to go back to the article that triggered my descent into what for me is internet hell. Yes, I printed via wi-fi a 2005 article from the New York Times that I no longer need.

The satisfaction was perverse, but satisfaction nevertheless.

Speaking of perverse, how's this for perversity: I just finished reading today's New York Times on the web and then went into the kitchen to wash the newsprint from my hands. Yikes!

Stymied

I started blogging two years ago with the idea that technology is Wonderland and I'm Alice. I've tried to understand it and even adopted some of its trappings, but I still feel I'm down the rabbit hole, as it were.

Bear with me, please. In view of all the controversy over NSA eavesdropping, I thought it might be a good idea for the government to out-source the job to those call centers used by virtually all major businesses. You know, the one's who tell you how important your call is and that it may be monitored for quality and training purposes.

Believe it or not, someone listens to those calls and decides whether to respond to them. I found this out by Googling the subject and came across a well-documented article in the New York Times in 2005. Disappointed that someone beat me to the story by nine years, nevertheless I wanted to print it for future reference. But my printer broke down.

I was so frustrated by not being able to print this article I neglected blogging. Why did I care? I'm uncomfortable with words flying through the air with no place to land. They belong on paper. So they can be referenced (and maybe even leaked?).

Anyway, I installed a new printer and now my laptop can't find the Wi-Fi connection. So I'm down the rabbit hole again.

But back to out-sourcing. I've been on the phone any number of times lately with technical services, phone companies, banks and whatever, and they all assure me that my call is important to them before putting me on hold so I can listen to their awful time-filling music.

Once I actually told someone I hoped my call was being recorded because I wanted the company to know how infuriating it was trying to reach a real person who actually could help me.

If you're still with me I want you to know how important your readership is to me. If you need individual attention you can reach me at marvfriedman@verizon.net.

Your email will be monitored for quality and training purposes.

A Slow News Day

It's gotta be a slow news day when Mayor de Blasio eating pizza with knife and fork deserves a whole column from Maureen Dowd in today's New York Times.

As did Ms. Dowd, my wife and I also howled at Jon Stewart's takeout on the mayor's gustatory gaffe (to pizza purists, anyway). He was in Staten Island, after all, fingers-first country. But a whole column, Mo? Maybe it was just “let's give Chris Christie a break day.”

OK, full confession: sometimes we, too, start a slice with knife and fork to spare the roofs of our mouths from being scorched. But then its full-fold-fingers mode right down to the crust, as long as that's not too thick.

Politicians have always tried to win ethnic votes by publicly tasting their favorite foods. It's a lot easier to appeal for votes with sticky fingers than sticky issues. 

Now let's get back to real meaty news: SCANDALS.