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Better Place to Be

My last post on this site is dated December 2010. Luckily no squatters took residence in my absence. I stopped writing here simply because I didn’t have time. My responsibilities for BetaNews commanded too much of me, and I shifted personal blogging to Google+. Both are fine places to live—shared common areas—but I seek solitude and escape from the daily news grind; also, I’m sick to death of tech.

I’m not a computer or gadget geek. It’s just my career path. Twenty years ago this autumn, what was then Washington Journalism Review, now American Journalism Review, posted a story that changed my life: “The Future is Now” by Kate McKenna.

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My Vintage Bike

For my birthday, I bought a classic Guerciotti bicycle—from the 1980s, I believe. I sold my Masi Speciale Fixed to buy this beauty. I will truly miss Masi, but she goes to an owner who like me needs a smaller frame (51cm). I move up from a fixed-speed to gears, which suits my plans to ride lots more, lots farther. I wanted a lightweight, quality bike that offers much while looking less attractive to casual thieves, and the decades-old Italian road bike was available from a shop selling used roadsters.

I searched first for a 1970s Schwinn Super Le Lour II or Paramount but those coming on Craigslist were too large. The Guerciotti frame, with Corsa 487 tubing, is 53cm. That’s a tad larger than I should ride but nevertheless manageable. 

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I Cut the Cord

The apartment was strangely silent last night and darker than usual. Gone was the flickering light filling the center room as one of us scanned the program guide. A year later than planned, we dismantled the TV shrine and took back the living room from the false idol. Henceforth, we will worship at a different altar. Finally, I cut cable’s cord—IPTV, really, but we all call it the other, eh?

I feel anxiety and elation at the dramatic change, which allowed us to rearrange the furniture such that the living room is more open, more inviting, and more suited to entertaining real people. The television now resides in the bedroom, more for the benefit of my wife’s sleepless nights (the thing is narcotic). We’ll stream from Amazon Prime, Hulu, and Netflix primarily—haha, maybe even iTunes. I had planned Google Play by way of Nexus Q, but the search giant nixes that option.

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HuffPo is all Headline, no Original Content

This story exemplifies why, as a journalist , I’m no big Huffington Post fan. The large-font headline takes up the space above the fold. Surely there is a hard-hitting news story behind. Right? Nope.

The five-paragraph story, while carrying a Huffington Post byline, culls from other reports, CNBC and New York Post on the page, with links as sourcing to other HuffPo stories that also largely or wholly depend on other news services (Reuters is one).

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I Love Chromebook Pixel but It Doesn’t Always Love Me

When I reported the original iPhone launch in June 2007, there was sense of history among the people waiting to buy. Several shared similar sentiment: That we would all look back in five or 10 years and see the mobile as a defining moment in computing. They were absolutely right. I feel similarly about Chromebook Pixel, not that as many people appreciate what it represents compared to the larger number of folks rushing to purchase Apple’s smartphone.

Google’s computer is an acquired taste, and so delish you don’t easily go back. But there’s a Vegemite quality. Most people wouldn’t eat the spread, but ask those who do—they can’t live without it. Likewise, Chromebook Pixel isn’t for everyone, but is for me and possibly could be for you, if given a chance. 

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MacBook Dive kills Drive

What a day. My daughter texts from class this morning: “My computer decided to self destruct. It just reset everything!!! This is a sad day. I think I just lost everything on my computer”.

Sadly, she predicted rightly. In her dorm room, the Epson Stylus is on top of a mini-fridge, where she set the laptop to print out schoolwork. The computer slipped and crashed to the floor, right before she left for the day.

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So Long, Lou Lou

At one time, our little corner of San Diego had two neighborhood cats, Maine Coon Kuma and black beauty, with speck of white, Lou Lou. They lived in the same apartment complex, separated by one door, and sauntered about and inside each other’s alcove; we and Lou Lou’s owners always left a door open for our indoor-outdoor felines.

Lou Lou tolerated Kuma, at whom she hissed devilishly whenever he approached, swatting as her head pulled back. He never attacked, though, merely invaded her space. Kuma was a gentle giant.