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About Ramblings of a Hopeless Khowaga

Welcome to my Web site. My name is Chris, and I’ll be your host. I\'m an opinionated, snarky, gay academic with a predilection for the history, the Arab world, languages, photography, food, and music. I live in Austin, Texas. You can read more about me, learn 100 random things about me, and if you’re wondering what the heck a khowaga is, click here. Feel free to browse, read, and leave comments!

Tag: ‘Internet’



Law of Diminishing Returns

Tuesday, September 22nd, 2009

Sitting in the alleged “dining area” at the Hollywood/Fort Lauderdale International Airport.  We left Austin this morning, and will, JetBlue willing, be in San Juan, Puerto Rico, this evening.

I had to take a moment to record for posterity just how bad the “dining options” [sic] here are.  $11.86 bought me a small salad and a bottle of soda.

There’s free Internet, tho.  This doesn’t quite make up for it.  You can’t eat the Internet.

I think somewhere, there’s a law of diminishing returns on price vs. quality of airport food … and I think FLL has surpassed it.

Sweet Anonymity

Friday, August 7th, 2009

There are times when I wonder if Web 2.0 is taking us to a level of public exposure previously only known to politicians, porn stars, and Madonna.  Thanks to the wonder of Facebook (and, I suppose, Twitter, which I haven’t joined because I’m not vain enough to think anyone is interesting in knowing if I’m standing in line at the grocery store), we now have 24 hour access to deep thoughts.

The question of whether the thoughts are actually deep and may be better left unexpressed is one that I think that some ought to ask themselves (although, in full disclosure, I certainly didn’t ask myself that before I sat down to write this here post).  There are, among my acquaintances, many people who comment on every single thing that their Facebook “friends” do all day long.  Some comments are amusing, others are … well, clearly not as amusing as their authors think they are.

The ubiquity of Facebook, Twitter, and other forms of social networking means that it’s now possible to create an entire online persona that you can drag with you hither and yon.  Your Yahoo! account can be linked to your Flickr, which is now linked to Twitter, and Google now knows more about you than the federal government, and all of them can be linked to Facebook.  Facebook, if you’re not careful, can also track what you buy on Amazon and rent from Blockbuster or Netflix.  This means that if you rate a movie that you rented on Blockbuster, the netsavvier among us can find within a frighteningly short amount of time those embarrassing photos that your coworker took at the office Christmas party of you pretending to be Smiling Bob from the “natural enhancement” commercials.

My friend Michael has pointed out on occasion that there are clearly people with nothing to do all day who lurk about on the InterWebz and leave bizarre comments on any public forum that invites comment.  Austin is a fairly liberal town.  You wouldn’t know this by reading the online edition of our alleged “newspaper” [sic], the Austin American-Statesman (which, on a side note, was up for sale for 18 months and has been taken off the market because no one wanted to buy it).

The Statesman did this weird thing where it invited readers to form their own blogs and comment on the news — it’s to the point where I can’t actually read the online edition anymore.  Global warming is a man-made myth.  The president was born on Mars (funny, I was pretty sure that was a reference to Lady Gaga).  And any time an article pops up about gay … well, gay anything, the Bible thumpers turn up and start screaming about Satan (see: Barack Obama).  Someone actually told Michael to go back where he came from, Commie.

It’s enough to make you want to pull out your old government book and read aloud the definition of “socialism.”  Kids, do you want to know some countries that are socialist?  Norway, Denmark, and Sweden.

I’m guessing this is all because the sane people have day jobs and don’t have time to sit around and write ultra right wing conspiracy shit all over the Internet, let alone create a fake Kenyan birth certificate for the president … and can I just ask — what, exactly, is the birther movement trying to do?  If you don’t like Obama, fine (I’ll admit, the enchantment has worn off for me, too) but for gawd’s sake, why is it necessary to be coming up with all of these ridiculous stories about how he’s not really American?  Are we really supposed to believe that his parents faked his birth certificate in 1961 because they knew that he was going to run for president 48 years later?  Because if they did, I’d like their phone number — I want to run some stock options by them and see which ones they like.

I know, I know: this is America, and we have freedom of speech.  However, just because we have freedom of speech doesn’t mean we should always feel the need to use it.  Sometimes the best thing to do is realize that you don’t have anything important to say … and then not say it.

Like this:

Facebook is a Punk-Ass Chump

Wednesday, July 29th, 2009

Yeah, that’s right.  I said it.  And I stole it off a bumper sticker describing our last president.

I won’t deny that I have used Facebook for varying purposes both professional and personal.  I have used it to stalk our notoriously blasé alumnae, whose career trajectories we are supposed to track (and they know this) but who are really, really, really bad about keeping us informed of their whereabouts the moment they leave town.  I have used it to look up people I used to know in a former life; not in the Shirley MacLaine definition thereof, but people I knew from my days as an underpaid, overworked cog at a non-profit in DC, people I knew from my days as an undergraduate, and people I knew from (shudder) high school.

I have stopped friending people from high school.  At this point, I’m “friends” with people that I knew well.  My “people you may know” box lists a number of people that I didn’t know well and, you know what?  If they want to get in touch, they can friend me. As the number of people that I have known in my life is actually something of a finite number (I was a bit of a wallflower until grad school), it’s that little box right there that’s been the source of some amusement and derision of late.

Maybe it’s just that I’m bitter that I don’t actually know most of the people that the little box suggests.  The chain of linkages seems to have worn thin–Facebook has, on occasion, suggested people to be friends of mine for no other obvious reason than they happen to have the same name as people that I already know.  That’s weird, right?

I am not in favor of the introduction of things that I can “Fan” into my “people you may know” box.  There are too many things to “fan” these days.  “Flipping the pillow over to get to the cool side”?  Really? The day that I completely lost my patience was … well, I found it creepy that a little box appeared suggesting that I become a fan of “butt sex” right next to another little box suggesting that I friend my high school guidance counselor.

Seriously.  Ew.

Then, of course, there are the recent spate of groups that have popped up that are Iran related.  I can support “free and fair elections in Iran,” I have been asked to support “supporters of free and fair elections in Iran,” I have been asked to join a group called “Where is their vote?”, a group called “Where is MY vote?”, and something in Persian that I can’t read because I don’t read Persian.  I’ve been asked to shade my profile photo green (I’m standing against a green background–I’m lazy and that’ll have to suffice).  I’ve also been asked to become a supporter of Mir Hussein Moussavi, which I decided not to do because, other than the fact that people are protesting because they think he won the elections in June, I don’t really know that much about his politics and whether I support them.

Therein, of course, lies the rub: I still think about what I do on Facebook like it matters.  I have “friends” who clearly don’t.  Two weeks ago, I came back to my hotel in Cairo after a lovely evening watching the sufi dances in the old city, followed by a stroll through the part of the old city that’s now lit up at night.  I booted up my laptop since the Internet seemed to run faster in the wee hours of the night, and discovered that someone who went to high school with me for one year and recently friended me had posted an article from a Christian Web site freaking out because “Islam is trying to take over America” (*coughfirstcough*). I had no problem removing this individual as a friend since it was clear that we had nothing in common (and he clearly hadn’t actually looked at my profile long enough to determine that I’m a hellbound homo).

The same happened to a couple of people who kept trying to recruit me to causes like, “Impeach Obama now!” (Why the sitting president is worthy of impeachment for any reason other than being black a Democrat is beyond me.  Always amazes me that these are the same people who sat idly by while Tricky Dick Cheney sat there with a pair of scissors and cut up the constitution.)

My friend Will is currently on a campaign to remove all of the birthers from his roster of Facebook friends.  I don’t think I have any birthers in mine, although I can’t be sure because there are a few people who are permanently hidden (mostly because their status updates are a nonstop slough of quizzes, status updates from Mafia Wars, or invoke God just a few more times than I think a normal person should when, say, mentioning that you just got home from the grocery store–praise Jesus!).

And don’t even get me started on those bizarre high school competitions to see who can garner the most friends.  There’s a reason that my profile is now on permanent lockdown.

All this is to say that Facebook is starting to spoil a little bit, like cheese left out in the sun for a week.  I’m curious to see what the next big thing in social networking will be … because I’m totally going to join it, and then blog about how much it annoys me.  Just like everyone else :grin:

Istanbul’da

Tuesday, June 30th, 2009

I have arrived in Istanbul.  If I weren’t so tired right now, I’d take advantage of the internet connection to post photos, but that would involve more effort than I’m willing to expend given that I have to catch a 7 am flight to Izmir tomorrow.  Photos are coming, stay tuned.  But in the meantime … I’m here.

The next newest sign of the existence of evil in the universe

Wednesday, May 20th, 2009

I’ve ranted before about Microsoft and Adobe products.  Between Microsoft Word (and whatever the hell it does that makes text so unusable that you can’t cut-and-paste text out of Word into many other programs, including Microsoft’s own Entourage e-mail client for the Mac) and the unbelievably convoluted POS that is Adobe Acrobat, I’ve often said that the two companies are the surest sign of the existence of Satan.

Adobe gets extra points for removing support for right-to-left languages from the products it got when it bought Macromedia (Dreamweaver, Flash, etc.).  Mind you, they did this so that they could introduce it only in special “Middle East” versions of its software–which cost more, natch–that, as far as I can tell, can only be purchased in a single store in Dubai.  You sure as hell can’t buy them through the Adobe Web site.  Not living in Dubai, I have coworkers that have resorted to laying things out in PowerPoint.

However, after yesterday, I’ve got two new one candidates for evildom: eBay and its bastard offspring PayPal.

My friend Natalie went to London two weeks ago, and she borrowed the old Sony Ericsson T68i cell phone that I got second-hand specifically to use on overseas trips.  I have a generic “world SIM” card that’s not the cheapest thing to use, but works just about anywhere and is useful for business trips when I’m in a different city every day.  For longer stays in one place, I tend to get a short term pre-paid SIM card from the local mobile company, like Telcel in Mexico or Vodafone in Egypt, which gives me a local phone number of my own, and offers the advantage of letting me make phone calls home in idle moments while I’m sitting on a bus somewhere.  As an added bonus, the World SIM that I have carries a UK number, so for Natalie it was perfect since she was going to the UK.

When she got back, she broke the bad news to me: “Your charger’s dead,” she said.  She thought this was a bigger deal than it was.  For the record, this is actually the second charger I’ve owned for the phone.  The first one died an undignified death in Cairo when Ray tried to plug a 110 volt power strip into a voltage adapter and then plug it into the 220 volt wall socket and blew out the power to half of our floor of the hotel.  This necessitated purchasing a charger from the cell phone-and-shwarma kiosk down the street which meant that, uniquely, I had to use an adapter to plug it in when I was home in the US.

After three years of being wrapped up in my luggage or a drawer at home, the wires were fraying.  I had wrapped the cord with electrical tape, but Natalie reported that when she went to plug it in, the wires just sheared off.  “I tried to replace it,” she said, “but apparently the phone is too old and none of the shops we went to carried anything that will fit.”

“Don’t worry,” I said.  “This is why God invented eBay.”

Clearly, Satan was offended by this statement.

Yesterday morning, I hopped on eBay and discovered that one could, for the low low price of $4.50 (including shipping) purchase a replacement wall charger.  I said it wasn’t a big deal.  The trouble began when I clicked on “sign in” in order to start the purchase.

“Your password is incorrect,” eBay informed me.  I only have three passwords.  I use the Password Hash extension on Firefox that makes my life much easier because I can use the same passwords over and over.  When you push the F2 key before entering the password, it converts the password you type into a unique password based on an algorithm of the Web site address, the original password, and Oprah’s weight on a random date in the late 1990s.  Hence, if someone snares your password on Site A, it won’t work on Site B.

However, none of them were working on eBay.  After several go rounds, I admitted failure and clicked on “Forgot your password?”  It offered to e-mail me my password.  I clicked OK.  Nothing happened.  My e-mail inbox sat there and looked at me expectantly.

eBay then instructed me to enter my mother’s maiden name, my ZIP code, and my phone number.  I did so, and clicked “continue.”  It then made me fill out a captcha form, which I did, and then hit “continue.”

Your answers are incorrect, it told me.  Interestingly enough, it said that I had entered the right ZIP code, but that I had entered the wrong phone number … and also that my mother’s maiden name was incorrect.  I’m pretty damned sure that last one was a mistake on their part.

The other problem is that I registered with eBay several years ago, so I can’t actually remember which phone number I would have put down.  I put a few ones in, triple-checked the spelling of my mother’s maiden name and was eventually rewarded with a nasty message informing me that I had exceeded my attempts to verify my identity (but only after filling out the form and captcha … again.)

At this point, I decided that I needed to get to work and turned off my browser.

At home last night, I decided to try again.  Browsing eBay one more time, I discovered that for even less money–$2.50 including shipping–I could purchase a USB charger for the phone.  That’s even better — I’ve already got a hydra cord that simultaneously charges my iPod, GPS, and a couple of other things off of the USB.  I can plug the phone in at the same time and then I only have to bring one adapter for the wall socket.  Brilliant!

eBay was still unhappy with my attempts to login, so I just broke down and created a new login for myself.  That done, I clicked on “Buy it now.”  We’re in business!

The seller said that he would only accept PayPal.  I’ve used PayPal far more recently than I’ve used eBay … however, PayPal turned out to be even more problematic.  I logged in, and it immediately spat a message at me: “Your primary credit card has expired.  Please enter a new one.”  I did so, and noticed that the billing address listed was the address of the apartment where I lived for the two years of grad school and the first year of my job here in Austin (and where I haven’t lived since 2001).  I clicked to update it, and from then on, it was all downhill.

When I clicked on “Confirm purchase,” a screen came up with bright red letters.  “Your account access has been suspended.  You must verify your address to unsuspend this account.  Click here to continue.”  I did so.  “Please enter the telephone number associated with this address.”

I paused.  I don’t have a telephone number associated with this address.  We got rid of the landline nearly a year ago because we never used it.  I entered my cell phone number, which is what the credit card company has as my emergency number anyway.

“You cannot use a mobile number to verify your address,” it informed me.  “Please verify your address.”

At some point, I was given a phone number that I could call, but in my poking around trying to get the system to work, that screen vanished and I was never given the option again.  Fifteen minutes later, I was back staring at the same screen that informed me that my account had been suspended pending verification of my address.

Underneath the angry red screen there was a smaller link.  “Alternate methods.”  I clicked on this.  I was then given the option to confirm by mail.  OK, let’s do that.

It turns out that this option means that they’ll mail you a letter and you have to send it back along with a photocopy of some sort of official piece mail in which your address is confirmed.  Um, no.

The other option was to confirm my credit card.  OK!  Let’s do that.  In this instance, my credit card was charged $1.95 that would be refunded when I entered the correct four digit statement off of my credit card bill into the PayPal Web site.  I used my debit card and immediately logged on to my bank where, for once, the transaction was immediately visible.  I copied the four digits over, clicked enter, and, lo and behold, green text!

“Your address has been confirmed.”

At this point, I had to go back to eBay, re-log in, and initate the whole process all over again.  This time, it all went through.

I estimate that, all told, it took me 45 minutes to complete a transaction worth $2.50 so that I could get a lousy charger for my cell phone.

And that, children, is why eBay is the surest sign of evil in the universe.

 

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