August 2007 Archives

Maybe you've heard, the RIAA (the recording industry's association) sues people it suspects of swapping licensed music. Though this raises the ire of those in the freewheeling computer hacker community, the people who own the music deserve to be compensated for their labor.

That being said, I'm no fan of the RIAA. They've been pretty draconian in their copyright enforcement. There are all sorts of mean spirited stories featuring obviously innocent people being threatened.

The RIAA, with access to legal counsel, has a pretty good advantage here. Even with huge settlement costs, paying the RIAA thousands of dollars is cheaper than fighting them - even if you expect to prevail!

I've always wondered how the music industry can press for these huge settlements when the actual value of the dowloaded music is under $1 a song? I guess I'm not the only one to have that thought.

In other words, the original defendant, Boggs, says the RIAA is wrong to sue him, but even if they weren't, their $750-per-song file damages theory has constitutional problems. $750 isn't even close to the record company's real damages.

This is one of many counterclaims made by Boggs' attorneys, but the one I find the most fascinating. If the court finds the real monetary value of music must be used (what you'd pay on iTunes, for instance), will the RIAA be put in the position their defendants now face - litigation that's a money loser even if you win?

What happens to the music industry in this scenario? Can they survive if the ability to legally enforce their rights is eviscerated?

I'm keeping an eye on this.

"It's a thousand degrees outside," Helaine warned me as I headed to the garage to top off the air in the tires on my bike. She's worried I'll overexert and injure myself.

Today is my day to return to physical exercise. My boot's gone. I've been given permission to ease into biking.

The orthopod told me ten minutes to start. I suppose she'd be embarrassed if I went out and fractured my fibula again. I wouldn't be too thrilled either.

At least in the short term, my biking will be very easy. No standing on the pedals to maintain speed. Lots of shifting to minimize my second-by-second effort.

I did my little circuit through the neighborhood twice. That's about a mile, though the distance is inconsequential. There's no pain. That's the important note.

It's definitely hot and sticky outside, but the wind rushing by counteracted all the wilting effects of the atmosphere.

Over the next few days I'll stretch out the distance until I'm ready to ride the Farmington Canal Trail, a two minute drive from here. I could ride to the trail, but the local streets, winding and hilly, are just too dangerous.

I'm disappointed the 5K run I originally planned for is out. I'll be thrilled if biking helps me get fit.

A bunch of us at work were getting ready to head to dinner when we caught the chopper video from Minneapolis. It was difficult to fathom at first. One picture couldn't tell the story. You needed wide shots and close-ups to understand the magnitude of the situation.

How could the Interstate just fall down like that?

I counted the individual structures down and said to myself, "terrorism." How could it be anything but?

First impressions can be so misleading.

I listened carefully as I scanned the cable channels covering the story live. No one was talking terrorism. That's good. It would have been foolhardy to poison the story with speculation. We're already on edge enough.

The more I looked, the more I realized I'd seen this before. Mianus, San Fransisco, the highway overpasses near the Northridge quake in California - Highways fall down! They shouldn't. They still do.

Then I thought about that school bus - just a few feet from the edge. What must have gone through that driver's mind as the roadway beneath his bus began to violently heave?

Over the next few weeks the backstory to this tragedy will dribble out. I can almost guarantee there were signs missed or procedures not followed. There always are.

I left for work early today. There were thunderstorms in the forecast and I didn't want to take the chance of falling behind.

Before you compliment my altruism, that's what happened during our last bout with severe weather. I never want to let that happen again - ever. At the moment I'm more snakebit than idealistic.

What I realized in the car on my way in is when my work day actually began today.

We've got some new computer equipment in the weather area and I've been thinking about it and its implications around the clock. That should count.

I sent a few work related emails at about 3:30 AM this morning. When I got out of bed around noon more went out. I have trade emails with vendors in the middle of the night. It's not an uncommon event. It happens all the time. That's work time too.

What I'm getting at is, what ever happened to the 'regular' day?

My bosses boss carries a Blackberry. He's answered my email late in the evening.

Are work hours another victim in our 24/7 society? And, if they are, is this necessarily a bad thing? I could easily say no to work related email from home - but I don't. Scarily, I don't mind.

I bet you work more hours than you used to work too.

Maybe I don't mind bringing work home because I anticipate the day when I'll be able to work 100% from home. Why not? The technology is here already. I'm just casually laying the groundwork.

"Honey, you should put Lala on your blog." That's what Helaine yelled to me across the house a few seconds ago. Those words follow Helaine, Stef and me watching the story of a Japanese family's domesticated penguin on Youtube.

She's right (always). Here's Lala.

After waiting two weeks, I headed to Target this afternoon to pick up my new lenses. I'm going from my 'old schoo'l ovals to hipper, hotter rectangular frames (or at least Helaine and Stef say they're hipper and hotter).

I only waited a few minutes while the salesperson finished up with someone there before me. Then she brought out my new specs.

I looked at some small type. Perfect. Everything was sharply in focus. I'm crazy about that.

Next I looked at a poster on the wall. These are progressive bifocals, so near and far should be no trick. I wanted to see something with high contrast.

The poster was almost sharp - but not quite. I went back and forth, switching from the old to new glasses, trying to get a read on the situation.

Maybe I was tilting my head wrong, or had to get used to a new sweet spot on the new lens? Whatever the problem, I said I'd take them home and see if it was just a matter of getting used to them.

As I walked out of the store and into the car, I began to realize what was wrong. In the bright sunlight, everything was fringed in blue! Where hills in Meriden met the pure blue sky, there was no way to see the blue, but there I saw an orange band.

This was a problem I recognized. Sometimes, while working with my pictures in Photoshop, I have to correct a similar fringing. If a lens doesn't pass all colors at the same speed, the result is called chromatic aberration.

My new glasses are chromatically aberrant! Doesn't anyone in the lab check?

I was off at the next exit, heading back to Target. The salesperson said this was a problem with polycarbonate lenses, but it's tough for me to believe it's legal to dispense a whole category of lens that distorts what people are seeing. After all, they're called corrective lenses and many people use them in situations where color is critical.

I'm wearing my old glasses again. The wait is on for another new pair.

I've asked not to be placed at the back of the line. Good luck to me!

Stef had a friend in from out-of-town yesterday. With Helaine, the four of us had dinner out. Just a pizza. Nothing special.

The girls headed north, into Hartford. We went south, to North Haven and the movies.

There was never a doubt I'd see the Simpsons movie. I've been saying it since I saw he first trailer. This movie has gotten an intense amount of buzz.

Here's the funny part - though I enjoy The Simpsons, I'm not a regular viewer. In fact, I can't tell you the last time I watched an entire episode. Yet I'm totally comfortable with the characters and can identify most by name.

There has never been another program on television with as many identifiable on-screen regulars.

I've never walked in on Helaine watching The Simpsons. She still wanted to go.

As you've probably heard by now, Homer is the straw that breaks the camel's back as far as Lake Springfield goes. With pollution out of control, an emergency is declared and Springfield is isolated from the outside world.

Does the actual story make any difference? No. It's all funny situations and incredibly clever, well thought out, funny dialog.

I've read the complaint the movie is just an elongated TV episode. OK. I came because I like what's on the TV show. That wasn't a problem.

The animation seemed more richly colored than what's on the tube, and with more spatial layers. This is 2D, have no fears. Still, there were times when it was drawn with a very shallow depth of field.

It's funny that on IMDB, there are people listing continuity errors! It's a cartoon. for heaven's sake. Schwarzenegger was drawn with three fingers on each hand on purpose.

What I liked most about this movie was, it was about the Simpson family and though some of what they do is cartoonish, it's a very loving, tight-knit family.

All the characters are as you expect from the TV show, but Julie Kavner deserves singling out for her emotional portrayal of Marge. I was especially impressed by a very poignant monologue from Marge which added much to the movie.

We both loved the movie. It's a good movie to see in a theater, where you can enjoy other people's laughter as you watch. I just wish there was more Krusty!

Blogger's note: There was a trailer for the Chipmunks movie, coming later in the year. I smell giblet gravy.

I have a MySpace account. I never use it. I opened it to see what MySpace was all about. We had just done a story about predators trolling there.

I scouted around and within a few minutes saw the profile of an 18 year old girl. Except, she listed her school - a middle school. It's both sad and scary.

From time-to-time I'll get an email from MySpace telling me I have an email on their site. It's nearly 100% spam¹. I'm getting to the point where I don't even bother to check.

I have a Facebook account as well. Again, I don't use it. In order to sign up, I needed an educational email address, which I had from Mississippi State. It still works!

A few people I know have signed on as friends. A few people I don't know have asked to be my friend. I'm unsure what to do. I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings.

Is a friend on MySpace or Facebook really a friend? Is the word friend, as used on these websites, interchangeable with the word friend we've always used? Is this the real future of friendship?

I don't know what I'm supposed to do on these sites. That's just a sign of my advanced age, right? Maybe there's really nothing to do... or I do it here by keeping my blog.

I know Stef has an active Facebook life. I know because she's told me. As a good father, I stay away.

Maybe I'm better off that way.

¹ - Unlike my 'real' spam, MySpace spam is mainly porn. Porn in real spam has become passe.

The NY Post is announcing the NY Times soon will be giving away web content they'd been charging for. This is the "Times Select" program. As a print subscriber, I'm already getting this material. I'm glad you'll have access too. There's some really good stuff there.

Some of the Times columnists have complained their columns were less available than those of contemporaries at less widely read papers elsewhere. That's sad.

Meanwhile, this is just another sign that web content cannot (right now) sustain a subscription model, as cable TV or satellite radio do.

Last night, as I was going through my printed edition of the Times for the fourth or fifth time, I thought about how lucky we are to live in an era when information is so freely available. No society has ever had virtual libraries delivered to the home - until now.

I'm not just talking about hard news. I am constantly digging deep to find stories that broaden my knowledge base. Sure, I might never need to refer to a recent article about train travel within sub-Saharan Africa, but I'm glad I read it.

There is always something new to learn, and learning in the abstract is good.

It will be nice to have the Times op-ed writers see the light of day again. Now, it's up to you to read them.

I've got ESPN on. Barry Bonds just broke Aaron's record. I'm not pleased, because I think he's a cheat.

The good news is, it happened at a late hour. Few will see it live.

We're also probably seen the last of Aaron's video (which isn't bad, except when those jerk kids run onto the field). It is a truly iconic piece of video.

Late in the game, right after showing a replay of Bonds' shot, they ran an anti-drug PSA, which specifically vilified steroids. Probably happenstance, but it felt cheap.

MLB can't have it both ways. I, however, can.

I got an email yesterday from Winter Marshall at the Arts Council. It was an announcement for "Off The Wall," where I'll be among 55 local photographers whose work is being shown.

It's the first time I'll be hung in public! Sorry, I had to say that.

Tomorrow, there's a preview party from 6-8 PM. Weather permitting, I'm walking over to take a quick look.

I know this is just gratuitous ego stroking on my part. It's still a big deal for me.

This is pretty over-the-top. Early this morning, as a line of very strong storms moved through the region, an EF2 tornado (111-135 mph) dropped down over the Bay Ridge section of Brooklyn.

When I was in high school, my dad worked a few blocks from where this twister hit!

It's an area on Brooklyn's south shore, near the Verazzano Narrows Bridge and close to the cool waters of the harbor. It's a surprising place to get this kind of weather event.

When I looked at the photos, I wondered, "Beirut or Bay Ridge?" It was really that significant damage.

After the jump, the Weather Service's official pronouncement.

Whose fault is it when heavy rains come and the New York City Subways flood out? You might be thinking, as I was, the subway system should have the capability to remove water quickly.

The NY Times reports:

That's Elliot Sander, CEO of the Metropolitan Transportation Authority, which in turn runs the subways.

Here's what the Weather Service was saying:

That forecast ran intact through much of the overnight, until:

Was that enough to warn MTA? It came around two hours before the deluge and though more pessimistic, was short of specifics. So, I guess not.

That's not what I was anticipating in the forecast. I expected to go back and find the Weather Service's forecast (something I don't normally look at or see) more cautionary about the overnight/morning rain as early as Tuesday afternoon.

Tuesday night on-the-air I really played up the chance for heavy downpours. My concern for Connecticut was misplaced, or maybe just a little overdone. We had few areas with over an inch of rain in a short time, though none with anywhere near the intensity that befell New York City.

In their technical discussions, the New York forecasters played down the potential until just before the storm hit. Looking back, this long wait before acknowledging the storms potential is a surprise to me. Here are corresponding paragraphs from 2:25 AM and 3:37 AM Wednesday morning.

At 2:25 AM:

At 3:37 AM:

That's a fairly large change in attitude over a short period. I suspect, but can't be sure, the lead forecaster (or whomever wrote the discussion) changed between the two.

In any event, the flooding wasn't caused by missing signals Tuesday night. It was caused by a lack of long term prep. In the MTA's defense, you can't plan for everything or purchase equipment for every possible rare eventuality.

On the other hand, if you say (as they did) this won't happen again... and it does.. you've got to step up and take responsibility. There seems to be none of that.

Bzzzzz. Wrong answer. Rainfall like this, though unusual, isn't unprecedented.

With that attitude, I can guarantee the subways will flood again.

This is actually related to my last entry. In it, I pointed out how, early Wednesday morning, the NWS changed their forecast thinking radically over the course of an hour or so.

I don't mean to pick on NWS. Their forecasts are normally excellent. It would be unfair to judge them based on a single forecast.

I have been through the same angst they experienced, but my forecasts aren't as well documented. That's why they're being used as my example - convenience, nothing more.

How do we change our minds? In most cases, change in thought comes gradually, but there's usually a tipping point when you go from one way of thinking to the other. That point is not, as you might think, simply where evidence on one side outweighs evidence on the other.

My first experience with this was in the 60s, with the Vietnam War. I was, as were most, a supporter of that war in its earlier days¹.

I remember doing a term paper on Vietnam for a class. I sat in the Jamaica Public Library and tried to balance arguments. I couldn't. The preponderance of what I read made me think we shouldn't be there.

I rode the Q17 bus home feeling conflicted. It was a significant enough episode to remember 40 years later. Yet, even in the face of that evidence and deep contemplative thought, I continued to support the war.

I did later change my mind, probably sometime in '67 or '68, and became fervently anti-Vietnam. My realignment came long after the my internal balance of evidence had shifted. Looking back, I'm sorry I waited so long.

Isn't that strange? Even when my better judgment should have pointed me one way, my earlier decisions made it much more difficult.

My suspicions say that's what happened last night at the Weather Service. I wasn't there, but I've been through many similar forecast decisions. What you've called for isn't going to happen... and yet you don't want to let go of the forecast.

Is it an ego thing? Is there a worry the mere act of having been wrong is a blemish to be avoided?

Flip flopping was portrayed as a weakness when John Kerry ran for president. Is it possible having the ability to easily flip flop is really a positive trait?

Making that second decision... overruling your first call... is the weightier of the two processes. It takes much more evidence to change an opinion than to form a similar opinion in the abstract.

I'm not sure what's to be learned from this, except to say it seems better to make these radical shifts in opinion sooner, rather than later. That's much easier said than done.

¹ - Actually, in its earliest days, American involvement in Vietnam was so small and obscure, few realized we were there and even fewer cared.

Every day while in the shower I listen to National Public Radio. Sometimes I listen on Connecticut Public Radio. Other times it's WSHU's network of repeaters, running about the same power as a flashlight.

If I'm in early (for me), I get to hear Terry Gross and Fresh Air.

Actually, that's wrong. I hardly ever hear Terry Gross. She's never there. It's always Dave Davies (really... what were his folks thinking) or David Bianculli of the Philadelphia Daily News.

A few times, I've planned on ripping into the show because Terry Gross is hardly ever there. It's a running joke between me and me.

She's the name talent. She should make an effort to show up. It's not like they can't tape a bunch of ins and outs for shows, all at once or allow her to use a studio in her home or on the road. Radio is much easier that way.

I can't be too mean. I love the show.

I have heard more great interviews on Fresh Air than anywhere else. Most of the fun ones for more are with show biz luminaries. Dion Dimucci, Neal Diamond and Daivd Duchovny stand out. These guys were candid and fascinating.

Who knew it was Dr. David Duchovny?

In these cases they're are people I've heard interviewed before. Still, I've gone away with much more than I knew when I turned the shower water on.

It's NPR. There are always going to be esoteric do-gooders on the show I just don't want to know about. Sorry. However, by and large, the show is great.

Some day Terry will explain to me where she is on all those days off.

The lead voice on concern for global climate change is the Goddard Institute for Space Studies. GISS is part of NASA, though it's located at Columbia University. They are the one who provide much of the context that's turned global temperature data into an instrument of hysteria.

Recently, some of GISS's work has been reexamined. Steve McIntyre of ClimateAudit.org seems to be leading the charge here. McIntyre found 1998 was not the hottest year on record in the United States, as had been claimed. It's now replaced (though barely) by 1934.

After GISS acknowledged their errors and changed their numbers, the new data show 5 of the 10 hottest years on record in the U.S. came before World War II!

The numbers aren't radically different, but it's going to be very tough to spin them the same way they were spun before.

There's a pretty good summary of what went on here, on Daily Tech.

My friend Bob, the meteorology professor, just sent me an email with not much more than this link. Half past midnight on Saturday. He knew I'd be checking the mail.

The Atlantic is open. Hurricane season has begun - even with no Atlantic hurricanes.

Yes, I know the season's officially underway June 1. That's minor league stuff. The real hurricane season is squeezed in from the middle of August to the middle of September.

For the past few days the GFS (a physics based, dynamic weather model) has been showing a strong, hurricane like storm, moving off the coast of Africa heading toward the states.

The GFS is not made to predict tropical weather, and it does so poorly. Still, when run-after-run shows the same thing, you look. They have at the Hurricane Center.

Bob's impressive model outputs are of the same storm, what looks to soon be Dean. These maps are different from my normal charts, but the bottom line's the same.

Though I said the GFS has been forecasting this storm, it hasn't been consistent with the long range path. A few days ago it took a sharp right, missing Florida and sailing close to shore, but off the East Coast. Another run had the storm moving into the Gulf and making landfall between Galveston and New Orleans. That's a pretty big difference!

Obviously, we don't have a clue yet, except this looks like Dean. And, it looks like Dean will be strong.

The next month will be busy.

Dear Helaine and Stef,

I could have written emails to you or maybe woken you up, but I know you check the blog, so pardon my posting this personal correspondence for everyone to see.

I decided to see SiCKO last night. It was a cure for boredom, no more. But it turned out to be the most powerful movie I've ever seen. Really.

Michael Moore is a showman, I understand that. Some of what was in the movie was there for effect. I can't imagine his Cuban experiences match those of the average Cuban.

Unfortunately, most of the movie was painful to watch, because it was the truth. I am embarrassed for what we've become. I'm embarrassed for what we allow to happen.

Stef, I know you need to see this movie for school. But you should see it sooner, rather than later.

Helaine, I understand you don't want to see the movie at all. I understand why. You need to see it anyway. It's that important.

Maybe I'm a sap, buying into Moore's propaganda. Maybe I'm naive. It would be nice to think the picture he painted doesn't reflect real life.

I was turned off to universal health care when Hillary Clinton ran the study group while her husband was president. I confused my personal distaste for her (some of which is still there, though not as stridently) with an evil plan that would hurt us all.

I was wrong. Very wrong (About healthcare. Mrs. Clinton... we'll save that for another day).

There has to be a better way than what we have now. It's difficult to believe there's a worse way.

Love,
Geoff/Dad/Greggy

Tonight was the night for "Off the Wall," the photographic charity event for the Arts Council. I'd seen the setup Thursday when there was a photographers preview.

Immediately, I felt outclassed by photographers with greater skills than mine. Maybe it's just a case of familiarity breeding contempt, but my pictures looked like snapshots versus the real artwork hung at the 70 Audubon Street Gallery.

OK, not everything the others did was Ansel Adams worthy either. There were strange photos and inappropriate photos. There were photos that would keep you from falling asleep at night.

One artist submitted three photos of naked people, lying on their backs. The shots were taken with a wide angle lens, giving the bodies an otherwordly shape. Visualize - naked people on their backs. It wasn't pretty¯.

A few of the photographers shot dolls, but in a very surrealistic way. Really creepy!

Considering most of the photos were taken on color digital cameras, there was a large number of black and white or sepia photos. It seemed overdone. I'm saying that even though one of mine was B&W!

The "Off the Wall" concept has 165 tickets distributed and 165 photos from 55 shooters on the wall. The tickets are drawn at random. When yours is called, you take a photo off the wall.

Please Lord, not 165th. Actually, with three photos on exhibit, I was praying not to be 163, 164 and 165!

Over 120 sweaty bodies squeezed into the gallery. On this warm August evening, whatever air conditioning power the room possessed had long since given up its fight. It was stuffy and still.

Up front, the emcee began to call numbers. As the ticket holders called out whichever photo they wanted, I started ticking off the corresponding boxes on a gridded piece of paper.

Through the first dozen or so, no one called any of my choices to take off the wall... and I'd selected a dozen. More importantly, no one took any of the photos I'd shot!

Number 45, my ticket number, was called in the second dozen. The rules give you 20 seconds to choose. I was ready.

Stef had asked about a beautiful zebra photo, taken (as we later found out) in Kenya. It was still available and so we snatched photo 48B taken by Charles Kingsley.

Nice shot Charles. Congratulations. It will be on the wall of a dorm room with a full semester's worth of clothes on the floor (or so I assume).

More and more tickets were called, but my photos continued to sit on the wall. Each photographer started with three photos hanging. Some already had all three picked.

On a short wall, where it once sat with the works of four other photographers, my contribution was starting to get lonely. The wall was getting bare the way a man goes bald - gradually.

Eighty four photos were gone before any of mine got chosen. It went to someone named Bitsie who said it was her first choice. My second shot went to the very next ticket holder as pick 86.

My moody, black and white, Atlantic City Boardwalk photo - the one my friends Dennis and Rick thought would go right away, was still on the wall as Helaine and I walked out. We told each other we wanted to watch the Phillies game on ESPN, but we really didn't want to see that photo sit, uncalled.

As we walked to the car, I began to tell Helaine what I'd do differently to go sooner next year, but she'd have none of it. "Don't change you style," was what she said. Whether I follow her advice or not, she's obviously right.

Am I disappointed I went so late in the process? You bet. but, this is my first time in any kind of exhibition. I was glad to just be there.

OK - I would have been happier going in the first dozen. Who am I kidding?

¯ - My friend Josh sent an email to say: BTW: the distorted photos of naked people were created with a large pinhole camera and printed with platinum process -- very unusual. I agree way too much easy digital, and predictable imagery, which might be why I appreciated the pinhole nudes more than you.

Tonight, AP reports:

This is a big deal. The area where this gouge is located heats to over 2,000° on reentry. The thermal tiles are the only thing that keeps the shuttle from frying on its way back to Earth!

I, for one, have lost my taste for the danger, without equal reward, the shuttle brings.

Whether this becomes a big deal in the media or not... it's a big deal to the folks on Endeavour. Their lives are in peril.

Helaine says I should post how excited we are that Van Halen is touring. We are. We are both convinced Jump was the best rock song of the 80s.

This is a tour that was planned once before, until it became obvious David Lee Roth was the most stable of the bunch. That's scary.

Now comes the tough part - looking for good seats. I expect this will be a pricey evening.

I'm always glad to hear from you... especially if you know someone selling good seats.

The Scooter is gone. Phil Rizzuto has passed away.

There will be plenty of obits written. I won't compete. As a former ballplayer, his stats are well preserved. There aren't too many 5' 6", expert bunters, playing middle infield today.

In his final years as a Yankee broadcaster, I remember listening to Phil broadcasting a game on the radio, but being totally removed from it. He was known for leaving games before they were over and always being concerned about traffic.

His call went something like this: "So if you take the Third Avenue Bridge and then turn left... ball two... and get on the Deegan." You get the idea.

Five foot six and larger than life. Holy cow!

As I was getting ready for bed, picking up my mess in the family room, I slammed my foot into the sofa. Stef and Helaine were both asleep upstairs. I tried to hold the volume back on my stream of descriptive cursing.

I finished up and went to bed.

From time-to-time overnight I woke up and tried to bend my toe. I'm not sure how much bending was going on, but it sure hurt... and continues to hurt right now.

Let's assume my toe's broken. No sense in worrying. My understanding is, the usual treatment for a broken toe is benign neglect.

Old joke:

Patient: Doc, I think I've broken my toe. Is there anything I can do?
Doctor: Limp.

I'm bushed. I'm on the sofa, my feet are up on a table and I'm bushed. I'm home from a day of negotiating.

At work, I am represented by a union. For over twenty years I have been part of the union's negotiating committee. The members of the committee have changed over time. Currently, there are three of us, plus a union rep from Boston.

The company sends an outside labor attorney and a high level company manager. I've been sitting opposite the attorney for at least ten years.

Obviously, I can't (and won't) talk about what's going on, except to say I like having the members negotiate. We have an obligation both to the members as employees and to make sure we're working at a thriving business.

Everything the members get, the company has given up. Everything the company gets, the members have given up. That's the difficulty.

We meet again tomorrow morning. Hopefully, we'll reach agreement and be done with it for a few more years. I can't take too many days like this.

I wish unions didn't have such a bad rep, because they really can accomplish good things without being too restrictive and costly. And, if they had a better rep, I wouldn't have to explain my involvement to friends.

In England, the BBC has just started streaming TV shows through a proprietary program call iPlayer. People must be watching because the ISPs (the companies that deliver the Internet to you) are worried.

I had been thinking about this on my own before the British scare. Internet bandwidth isn't infinite. There are choke points all over the place that can get swamped with traffic. High quality video is about the most bandwidth intensive you can run!

I wasn't too concerned about the BBC originally. My worry is closer to home. Imagine the traffic for NBC and the Olympics.

Just imagine. You head online and... nothing. The Internet shuts down like the Holland Tunnel on a busy Friday afternoon.

I don't want anything bad to happen. I'm petrified it will, especially if the US gets heavily into synchronized swimming all at once.

Tonight, the Hurricane Center deemed Hurricane Dean's winds to be sustained at 100 mph. Sure, why not?

I actually don't think they're blowing that fast. I'm basing my estimate on the look of the satellite imagery, surface observations and the Martinique radar.

The chain of islands Dean is approaching, the Antilles, will be quickly passed. Though Dean might damage them, they won't slow Dean much at all. That seems unfair.

The next two days will probably see significant strengthening of this storm as it enters the Caribbean. On TV, meteorologists and others will point out Dean's well defined and circular eye. We can't do that quite yet.

The official pronouncement from the Hurricane Center calls for a period of Category 4 winds. There's no certainty, but that seems a reasonable call. Dean is entering an area primed to be hurricane fuel.

Jamaica, the Caymans and the Yucatan Peninsula are all under attack if Hurricane Dean follows the computer guidance (amazingly in agreement with each other right now). All three areas are quite vulnerable.

After Katrina, some people were left with a false impression. There aren't many places that can flood like New Orleans. Certainly none of the places I just mentioned floods that way.

The major damage from Dean will be related to strong, destructive winds. If you want the Katrina analogy, that's the kind of damage produced on the Mississippi Coast.

A less sexy story, Mississippi a whole lot less news coverage than New Orleans. The damage was nonetheless catastrophic. Let's hope I'm wrong.

At work, we've got new graphics computers and software. With Dean in the Atlantic, I've been giving them a workout... or at least better learning how to use them. These storms can be tracked, predicted and shown in a variety of ways.

Right now, the Hurricane Center says Dean has sustained winds of 135 mph. I'm more likely to agree with NHC tonight than last night. Dean has become a classic hurricane with a well defined eye.

I popped over to the San Juan, PR radar and watched the outer bands spin as the storm passed to the south. Later, the huricane will be visible from a radar at Guantanamo and a few (if they're working) on Cuba.

It will not be a good weekend in Jamaica. The official call brings Hurricane Dean right over the spine of that mountainous island Sunday. In that scenario you get devastating wind and rain, storm driven tides and huge mudslides. The Caymans aren't much better off.

It's possible tonight's 135 mph is near Dean's peak. Even if he does strengthen (as forecast), there is a limit. It's tough for a storm to maintain 150+ mph winds for long before internal forces begin to break down the storm.

There's lots of watching to come. Dean will be 'on the books' until midweek next week.

Helaine called me at work. She wanted to know how to 'watch' the Eagles game on the computer. She wasn't talking about watching video. She wanted the clever web applet that visually displays everything happening on the field. I sent her to cbs.sportsline.com.

She couldn't watch Eagles game video anyway. She was already watching a video feed from the Phillies game, streaming in from Pittsburgh.

Helaine is always a rabid Phillies fan, but we both know this year holds the possibility of post season play, or last minute heartbreak. The Phils are currently three games behind the Mets and tied for the National League Wild Card berth.

"No pitching. They'll never make it past the All Star break." That was the prevailing wisdom early on. They opened the season with a horrendous losing streak. It was a fan's worst dream come true.

Then, they started to win.

A few nights ago, Jimmy Rollins hustled his way to a triple. "You can see they want to win," Helaine said. Every team wants to win. She meant they are putting in extra effort, because there's the thought that effort might pay off. Rollins' base running was just a more visible example.

Helaine and I are going away in October. Tonight she tolld me she was worried how that might impact our watching the Phils, should they make it to post-season play.

And you wonder why I love her like I do!

Stef wants to make me look good - or so she says. With that in mind, we made a date to drive to the outlet center in Clinton. This is a place I've visited, grudgingly, in the past.

Since she was scheduled to work this evening, we planned on leaving at 11:30 AM. That's a really early Saturday start for both of us. Obviously, that's one trait she inherited from me.

It was a beautiful early fall kind of day with sunny skies, cool temperatures and an audible breeze. This time of year you really do hear the breeze in the trees.

With the top down, we headed to Clinton. There was traffic as we approached I-95 and a few stop-and-go spots once we got on it.

The outlets were very busy. School is nearly ready to start. That's got to be part of the reason.

Stef took me to "Off 5^th," Saks outlet store. Zip, zip, zip - five pair of jeans were in her hands. We headed toward the dressing rooms.

I don't want to embarrass myself too much, but I got locked out of the dressing room three times! It has been a long time since I went clothes shopping, hasn't it?

And what's the deal with button fly? Didn't that go away in the 1850s? I won't belabor the point, but life's too short for button fly pants!

We bought two pairs and headed out. I think Stef was surprised it happened so quickly. She's used to anguishing over every clothing decision. Not me.

We headed to the Cole Hahn store, where I bought two pairs of shoes. Same thing. Speed shopping.

I am curious how one pair of size 11s is comfortable and another won't even fit on my feet.

We were almost ready to leave, but Stef had a sweatshirt to return. I forget the name of the store (lucky for them). The only two people working had no idea how to take a return and reverse a credit card charge - none!

We waited 45 minutes while they tried everything, and then finally called a manager at another store. Meanwhile, behind us, a line was forming.

We drove home, uneventfully.

You've got to be the parent of a post-teenager to understand, but this was a great trip. I'm not talking about the shopping. I'm talking about the company.

Stef was fun to be with - a good, grownup companion. Even at an outlet center, that still has full retail value.

Sometime today, probably mid afternoon, Jamaica will get creamed by Hurricane Dean. It's not a pretty scenario. Imagine watching a train barrel toward you while you're tied to the tracks!

In the midst of this tumult, a chartered jet is heading into Norman Manley Int'l Airport in Kingston.

How do I know? I went on FlightAware and looked to see air traffic in and out of Kingston. I can only see flights which will touch Jamaica and the U.S., but that's enough for a feel.

The plane is question is a Boeing 737 owned by Ameristar Jet Charter, operating from Addison Airport near Dallas. It's a plane normally used for charters and configured 100% first class. There are only 56 seats.

Why is it flying there? Is it a rescue flight of some type? If so, why a plane with so few seats?

More importantly, will it get out before Hurricane Dean shuts things down? Any kind of mechanical trouble would be very costly. In this case time is money.

At the last observation, winds at Kingston were light. It is just another sultry tropical evening in the heart of the Caribbean. You can see how people were totally surprised by these storms in the pre-electronic era.

There will be enough damage in Jamaica without a perfectly good 737 being ripped to shreds. I hope they refuel and return to Texas quickly.

By virtue of the environment necessary for their formation and the latitude at which they travel, hurricanes are mostly slow movers. Sometimes they progress at walking speed. Other times they spin in place or loop around their own path.

That slow speed makes forecasting very difficult. The slower the environmental winds are carrying you, the more likely it is for something weak... something we may not see or properly model... to affect your path.

With all this in mind, it's no surprise hurricane forecasts are less than ideal. The photo on the left represents most of the tropical prediction models for Hurricane Dean. Maps like this are generally called 'spaghetti plots'.

Notice how they're in reasonable agreement early on, but diverge as time goes by. That's a lot of 'maybe' in the predicted Gulf Coast landfall.

During the day, Monday, the first shots of Dean's damage on Jamaica will become available. I expect to see major destruction on the immediate coast.

Earlier this evening, around 8:00 PM, The National Hurricane Center issued a statement saying Hurricane Dean had top winds of 155 mph.

About a half hour later, based on recon data, Dean was upgraded to 160 mph.

There's really no practical difference between 155 mph and 160 mph. Wind force increases logarithmically with the wind speed. But there's a great perception difference, because at 160 mph, Hurricane Dean becomes a Category 5 storm.

Should Dean strike the Yucatan Peninsula as a Cat 5, it will be the first Atlantic Basin Category 5 landfall since Andrew, 15 years ago!

The only good news is, Dean will be sufficiently south of Cancun to produce less damage than a direct hit. It's still going to crush the region mercilessly.

Sometime this evening my lower lip began to swell. Later, after dinner, my upper lip followed suit. I look like Botox gone bad!

I've had this problem before, but thought it had been brought under control with antihistamines. Guess not.

It doesn't hurt. It is unsightly. And, it bothers me because I have no idea what's causing this nor how to get rid of it. Even WebMD lists no cause when you enter the symptom "swollen lips."

A quick peek in the mirror shows I'm currently a cross between Gary Shandling and Homer Simpson. This can't be good.

My lip has returned to normal human size. I am no longer frightening to small children.

I didn't go to work today. It's strange to call out sick because of an appearance related injury!

Helaine woke me up around 7:15 AM, two hours after I went to sleep. It only took one look to know, this was not a pleasure trip to the bedroom.

"No hot water," she said. "Didn't you hear the heater cycling all night?"

Using methods similar to those Tonto deployed in "The Lone Ranger," Helaine has hearing and (now revealed) tactile sensory powers far beyond those of mortal men. The water heater is in the basement. Our bedroom is on the second floor, but it's above the garage which in turn is built over a concrete slab - not the basement! How did she know?

I got out of bed and walked downstairs. My expertise in this sort of thing is limited, but I understand it's my duty (as laid out in the ketubah¹) to make like I know what's going on.

Our heating system is a complex 'hydroair' system, powered by oil. The hot water is heated by the furnace which also heats the house. It is virtually impossible to run out of hot water!

The thermometer on the side of the hot water reservoir was pinned on 90° - the lowest it registers. The water was certainly cooler. The furnace was quiet.

I checked the oil tank. We had plenty.

Thirty seconds of looking and I already knew this was way beyond me. I picked up the phone to call my oil man. If you've read the blog for any length of time, you seen comments from Woody. He's my friend and my oil man.

Ring, ring, nothing. I hung up and dialed again. Ring, nothing. Uh oh. Ring, ring, ring, nothing. Even during the height of the summer, I knew they'd be there early. This was a bad sign.

I opened my mail program and started to compose a note to Woody.

I quickly realized, Woody might not be there. He's bought a home in Santa Fe, NM, which he visits from time-to-time. We needed hot water now... or at least soon.

The oil company office is only a few minutes from here. I had no choice but to drive over and get the process started.

I sleep in pajamas, but they're not really traditional pajamas. They're the 21st century equivalent of sweatpants and a t-shirt. I threw on a hat and sneakers, kept my pajamas on, and drove away.

Helaine said, "I smell a blog entry." Really?

It was only 7:30AM, but the oil company's office was buzzing. Winston the dog was attacking the office workers, jumping at least five feet off the floor as if he was on a trampoline. Service technicians were getting their trucks ready. Everyone there - living in homes with heated water - seemed happy.

"Your phones aren't working," I said as I walked in.

"We know. Was that you who tried calling?"

By the time I drove home, Woody had replied to my email... and obviously had made contact with the mother ship.

The technician arrived a few minutes later and quickly found a clogged nozzle. He replaced it and our filter. We have hot water again.

In retrospect, I can't believe I drove away to see people while wearing my PJs. I'm starting to get very Britneyesque! Thank heavens I don't attract paparazzi.

¹ - A ketubah is a Jewish prenuptial agreement or marriage contract and is an integral part of a traditional Jewish marriage. Ours (as most others) is an ornately printed certificate, mainly in Hebrew - a language neither of us reads nor understands. Over time, both of us have 'quoted' the ketubah to try and justify ridiculous things we've done or want.

I got a call from a relative tonight. We were talking about his business and its web presence (something more and more critical by the day). He was disappointed because search engines weren't bringing a lot of traffic to the site. In fact, they brought almost none!

He'd looked into the idea of 'search engine optimization' or SEO and realized he had a problem. I opened my browser, looked at his site and realized the more he knew, the less happy he'd be with his site's usefulness in the real world.

Search engines don't see the Internet the way we do. They can't understand pictures. There are also various methods of page markup that are, at best, difficult for them to understand.

My relative's site was nearly 100% written in Adobe Flash. That's one of those tough to read methods.

The site looks good to a human and horrendous to the machines that really decide what we'll see. There are some small improvements he can make, but his problems are deep seeded.

I was having this discussion about SEO at work a while ago. I offered an opinion on story headlines and how they should be written. In TV, headlines are teasy. They promise to deliver something in the future, but give you almost nothing now.

On the Internet they can't be done that way. People are searching online for what they scecifically want . They're not looking for a play-on-words pun or ironic little twist. Headlines that tease and don't convey the gist of the story are counterproductive on the net!

The intelligence built into Google or Yahoo isn't as clever or adaptable as you are. Some very good content is lost, because it's 'too fast for the house."

I will help fix my relative's site, if asked. Sadly, I won't be improving it for the end user. My goal is to make it more attractive to machines!

Recently, Hurricane Dean formed in the Atlantic, blew through the Lesser Antilles (Do they feel any inferiority with that name?), Jamaica, the Yucatan Peninsula and finally Mexico¹.

Rightfully, Dean was classified a Category 5 hurricane. Top winds were reported as high as 160 mph. Dean was the first Category 5 storm to strike land as a Category 5 since Hurricane Andrew hit South Florida, 15 years ago.

The Global Warming chorus started up. "This is a sign of what's to come," was the message. "Look how much stronger these storms have gotten." It's a scary message.

Here's the headline on a release I got a few days ago:

But what if Dean's strength isn't as out of the ordinary as it seems?

Dean was classified at 160 mph based on satellite, recon, radar and other observations. Surface observations - anemometers spinning wildly - hardly entered into it at all. But what if this was 1957, fifty years ago, and the high tech remote sensing tools weren't here? How would Dean have been classified historically?

This was the question asked in a conversation between a tropical meteorology professor and a well known researcher at the Hurricane Center. I know about it because one of the participants told me.

Considering his strength, Dean did relatively little damage. Obviously, the families of those killed find little solace in that last sentence. I don't mean to play down their suffering. I'm referring to Dean's destruction relative to other comparably powerful storms.

On land, we never recorded winds that reflected Dean's real power. They might have been there, just not where we were measuring. That's quite common.

OK - let's go back to 1957. No satellites or recon flights. No computer modeled forecasts. Radar was rudimentary with no Doppler capabilities. More than likely, it wasn't available on the path Dean took anyway.

How would Dean have been classified in 1957? The consensus of the two experts was, strong Category 2 or weak Category 3 - somewhere between 105 mph and 120 mph.

It is probable the historic record of storms is replete with these underestimations. The problem is, if we compare our current storminess with the past, our foundation is suspect data... storms just like Dean which were never properly assessed.

So, when you hear how Global Warming has made hurricanes stronger than they once were, take it with a grain of salt. We are making comparisons beyond the capabilities of the data.

I found this was one of the most interesting weather revelations I'd heard in a long time.

Blogger's addendum: When I finished writing this, I thought it might also be appropriate for a BBS I check, frequented mostly by TV meteorologists. It's posted there as well, with the met's comments.

¹ - I know. The Yucatan is Mexico. It's just easier this way.

I've decided to make some mail changes. Nothing you'll notice, but it's a big change for me. I've moved all my mail to Gmail servers, run by Google.

Whatever your email address, someone is hosting two mailservers for you. There's one to send (SMTP) and another to receive (POP). My servers had been at Hostforweb, who also maintains the server this blog sits on.

My problem is, I check email from a few machines at home and another at work. I had to make sure all my emails got to one specific machine for archiving. That meant if I looked at my mail on one of the other machines first, I'd see the same unread email over and over.

Moving to Gmail allows me to use a web interface. Anything I do on one machine is seen on any machine! No more repetition.

Unfortunately, a web interface is slower. That's the price you pay. It's even worse on my 'desktop' machine at work, an old Pentium 900 with 256 mb RAM, running Ubuntu Linux.

Here's how it works. Geofffox.com mailserver is actually hosted by Google Apps. Once received, it is automatically forwarded to a Gmail account which also gets mail for a few other accounts I have.

I like Gmail, but I wish it were more versatile as far as 'canned' responses or signature files are concerned. There's not much you can do there with pre-written files... though there's lots I want to try.

As long as I've switched over to Gmail, I've also started using Google Calendar, which is integrated into the mail page. I'd like to be a little more organized. Maybe the ability to have this same calendar wherever I am will help me become more structured.

Google has a nice suite of applications, including online word processor and spreadsheet (which doesn't read the overnight ratings I'm sent every day). Every part of it is free. It desparately needs a 'to do' list.

Switching to Gmail removed the spam filtering Hostforweb employs. H4W used to discard some email before they ever got to my inbox. Now everything gets to my account, though much is filtered into a spam folder.

I'm getting well over 100 spam a day on geofffox.com alone! Luckily, I only see them when I need to.

Once a year Outer Island, the southernmost of the Thimble Islands, is open to the public. The Thimbles are a chain of small islands and rocks sprinkled just south of Stony Creek in Branford, CT. Outer Island itself is part of the Stewart B. McKinney National Wildlife Refuge.

The morning started gray and very foggy, but this was a rain or shine event! I popped a Bonine for seasickness and headed out with my friend Rick, his wife and daughter and two of their friends.

You get to Outer Island via water taxi. The boat leaves from Branford's Town Dock and stops at other islands along the way, dropping off and picking up residents and visitors.

Outer Island is about 5 acres of rock laid down as the last ice age retreated. It was originally a private island, owned by a couple. In fact, the main house and a smaller building are still there. It's now owned by the Fish and Wildlife Service of the Department of the Interior.

I'm sure most people will disagree, but in many ways, I wish it was still private. There is an experience to be had living on that island that will never be felt again.

Please understand, I'm not diminishing the research and scientific work being done there now. And I certainly wouldn't be able to afford this island life I'm talking about. But someone should have the opportunity to drink in the solitude and beauty that can be found in so few places.

We toured the island, led by two professors from local universities. The island's location and rocky terrain gives it some unusual characteristics - especially in the tidal pools carved into the rock. And then there are the rock crabs, a recently introduced species that's muscled out some of the shoreline's former residents.

Outer Island is the kind of place you don't get to see too often... though you should if you get the chance.

Oh... one more thing. The Bonine has kept me loopy all day! I drove to dinner with Helaine and Stef, but it quickly became obvious I wasn't ready to drive. Most of the side effects the package says can happen, have happened. Hopefully, I'll sober up on Sunday.

At the end of Sixty Minutes tonight, right after Andy Rooney, Steve Kroft came on with a little follow-up to two recent deaths in New York City: Brooke Astor and Leona Helmsley. Both, he said, had been profiled on Sixty Minutes by Mike Wallace. He then proceeded to show a few snippets from the original interviews.

When the clips finished, Kroft offered up they were on DVD and for sale on the CBS website.

Maybe I'm too pure and idealistic, but it seemed like that content was included primarily because it was on sale. I could be wrong. It's the impression I got.

If my suspicions are right, I am very disappointed. There was once a "Chinese Wall" separating news content and network commerce. That line has been, obviously, blurred.