PDA Blues pt.2

[Big Job ]

My Psion suffered another symptom of advancing age last week. This time the left hinge broke. I didn't really fancy repeating the grief I had last time, so I went straight to the FAQ looking for a DIY repair. And yes, once again it's a Known Problem (apparently, the right hinge is made of sterner stuff).

After a lot of fiddling about with my baby, my entire life, in pieces on the table, together with the odd loud sigh and brisk walk around the table to quell a sudden urge to smash the thing into more pieces, I managed to effect a repair using only the screw from the hinge of an old pair of specs and the aid of my beautiful assistant (Debbie McGee to my Paul Daniels). Tip: don't bother with "1-2mm spring wire" as suggested, it's way too thick and you'll have to carve away too much of the case to fit it in.

However, it was clear that it could only be a matter of time - a much shorter time than my likely lifespan, unless the worry kills me first - before the game was up and my Psion put its little rubber feet in the air. And suddenly Palm Pilots, with their lack of keyboard or, crucially, any moving parts seemed a lot more attractive.

However, I have come to realise that there is one factor when choosing an electronic PDA that has much more bearing than memory size, screen display, applications or availability of Tetris - technological obsolescence. True, they score over diaries and address books by being (in theory) infinitely updateable, easy to backup and capable of bleeping loudly on your mother's birthday (they also send a clear signal to friends that if they don't get a card, it's because you deliberately didn't send one rather than you forgot, so f*** you). But the odds of being able to use the same PDA for ten years or more are slim without succumbing to:

• hardware failure (inevitable with any Psion);
• bit-rot (you have the device but nothing talks to it anymore);
• manufacturer going bust or more likely, "leaving the PDA business to concentrate on selling mobile e-services via our web portal" (unless you are Psion and can rely on a constant revenue stream from repairing bust organisers);
• the lure of something slimmer, curvier and far sexier (Six Times Married syndrome). (Incidentally, does anyone know how to convert Psion data files to Visor formats?)

I've had some good times with my Psion, or at least I've avoided many bad times through forgetting to do something vitally important (hi, mum). However, I can't help wondering if the £400 it has cost me to date (including £160 repair fees barely a year before the latest fault) is good value for six years use. Probably, based on savings to my time in not copying out a new diary every year and generally organising my life, but it rankles.

Hence, I realised sadly that my furtive lust for a Handspring Visor was nothing more than that; a desire born of the loins rather than the heart, doomed to end in another tragic breakup when my young mistress one day seemed older and flabbier than the competition or was coldly "discontinued" by the manufacturer. Sometimes, progress is your worst enemy.

The other option, of course, is a PocketPC running Linux. But even I'm not that much of a weenie.

What the papers say:

[Big Words ]

"HALF OF ALL FARM ANIMALS MAY DIE"
- Daily Mail, Saturday

...Which is a tragedy because otherwise they were going to live to a ripe old age surrounded by doting grandchildren.

"Mark Lawson: It's no accident that every other programme these days involves a car. Is the BBC's latest exploration of Britain's love affair with wheels a worthy addition to the range?"
- The Guardian, today

Might as well write a column headed "It's no accident that every other programme these days involves air-breathing human lifeforms. Is the BBC's latest exploration of Britain's love affair with terrestrial life a worthy addition to the range?" The editor wanted 200 words on "something media-related" by Monday's deadline, so Mark Lawson duly brought forth the last few chippings from the bottom of the barrel.

It began with a whinge,

[Big Noise ]
It began with a whinge, which developed into an annoying whine before climaxing in a major outburst of dissatisfaction before subsiding into a low, continuous grumble in the background: the lack of inspiring culture (particularly music) today, right here, right now. I've slagged Coldplay & Travis before for being dull and laughably big-headed about their weenie "art", but yesterday I just wanted to take a machine gun and mow down every band in the country in the hopes of seeing some fresh, green shoots finally coming through.

Following a protracted email moan session among friends, which included trashing all their current, puny raves ("David Gray?" - "Arse!"; "Mel C?" - "Go shove your face in a blender!"; "Coldplay?" - "Bastard!"), I went home and, in desperation, dug out Q's "Best of 2000" CD for a fresh listen, in case I had been overly hasty in dismissing it as "a stinking heap of shite". Here's what I found:

Muse ("Sunburn")

Oh, so this is the music from the iMac advert! Nice chorus. Listen, there's even spome rippling piano on it too. (Four minutes later:) Erm...nice chorus. Once. (And that voice! Ouch, my ears, my poor, bleeding ears.)

Coldplay ("Yellow")

Yellow? YELLOW?! Fucking PURPLE with rage, more like. Is this the world's most boring guitar part? Clang-clang-clang-clang, eight to the bar for four minutes with only the occasional uninspired chord change to ram home the monotony. And how the hell can it be "all yellow" anyway? "How're you doing, pal?" - "Oh, turquoise with a hint of lilac, thanks!" I've stepped in dog turds that were more musical. "Fuck off, wankers," I muttered, hitting the "skip" button.

Dandy Warhols ("Get Off")

-starts- Hmmm, this is bouncy and fun! -ends- Hmmm, that was dull. Is that it?

Toploader

Toploader "sound like Jamiroquai", I was informed. That they do, that they do...
When I lived in a college flat during the final year of my degree, my neighbour at the end of the corridor went through an unfortunate and regrettable "Dr. Hook" phase, which involved him playing aforesaid band (particularly that song about getting your face "on the cover of the Rolling Stone", which still gives me convulsions) loudly all day, until eventually we all clubbed together, bought a nailed club, and clubbed him to death with it before going out clubbing to celebrate. (It was a great club thing...)
Jamiroquai remind me of that experience, except that Stevie Wonder is being played constantly instead, until the paperclip you are using to pick the lock on the flat door snaps at the same time as your tenuous grip on sanity.
I hate Jamiroquai.

Moby ("Porcelain")

Dull. Dull, dull, dull. Everyone tells me Moby's "Play" album is "great background music", which is one of the most damning insults I can imagine. Ignore him and maybe he'll go away.

David Gray

Ho-hum (without the "hum" or, indeed, a "ho" either).

And so on, and so on. Some of it was interesting, much of it was pleasant but none of it was inspired. Same as every book I've read and movie I've seen in the last few months. Thrills-thru-culture are dead, news at eleven.

Listen, wankfaces. I want guitars that sound like angels wielding chainsaws, I want drums that kill infants, I want choruses the size of Everest, I want melodies like heroin, I want vocals like sex, I want it yesterday and I want a job on the NME!!

(Al pointed out that what I wanted to hear then was The Sisters of Mercy. Huh, chance'd be a fine thing.)

Record companies embrace Napster Sorry,

[Big Noise ]
Record companies embrace Napster

Sorry, you ain't gonna see it. Never - not even after "Turkeys embrace Xmas". No matter how much of a "community" it might gather or how badly consumers want it.

Napster is about downloading songs (particularly obscure singles from the 70s and 80s that are only available on expensive compilations now). When you can download individual songs, you don't need albums anymore. And albums are what record companies sell (because, as recently reported, the market for CD singles is now tiny). That's what they employ people to do - create, produce, package, market and sell albums. (In fact, they prefer to avoid the expensive, risky creation and production stages as far as possible, by repackaging existing songs and marketing new albums, such as compilations.)

But when you download something you want from Napster, you don't require an expensively marketed plastic jewel case and pretty sleeve - and by extension, the people who made them and sold them. Sure, you might still want to buy actual CDs from your favourite artists (ideally, directly from them via mp3.com or wherever), but given that most albums now consist of 80%+ filler, you'll probably mainly want individual tracks. Bye bye, record companies. Or not. Not without a fight anyway.

But don't fantasise that they'll want to offer Napster-like services anytime soon.

I Love 1986

[Big Ego ]
. Skinny ties were all the rage then, weren't they? What were they all about, as Stuart Maconie would say? Where did they come from? Whither did they go, or did they wither to nothing? You can't buy ties that slim anymore, and I should know because I've tried - when you've worn a skinny tie, all other ties look like kippers to you forevermore.

It was a grey leather skinny tie too - combined with a large check shirt and casual jacket (sleeves pulled up, natch), I looked like the synth player in a minor pop band or, less charitably, one half of Black Lace (although I would like to state for the record that I never wore bright plastic-framed specs). In other words - I looked cool. (Piss off.)

Never more so than when playing air guitar on the floor of the sixth form disco. Remember, this was when heavy metal still existed and even occasionally charted. What on earth were we thinking? That the girls would say, "Hey, check out the cool dude playing that amazing imaginary guitar! I must take his virginity NOW!" Of course, playing air guitar and headbanging was one of the few moments in our lives when we were not thinking about girls. That was the point.

Still, the eighties...bury them with all haste and deny everything.

Will progress never stop?

[Big Words ]
Only three months into 2001 ("A Space Odyssey", you will remember) and already we have self-adhesive postage stamps!! Is there no limit to man's wily inventiveness and awesome technological capabilities? Surely, flying cars and big, black monoliths are just around the corner. Hold on to your hats, readers!

(N.B. Remember not to lick the stamp anymore. "It'th thtuck! Thith thtamp is thtuck to muh tongue! It'th too thticky! Help!")

Sign of the times

[Big Noise ]

A friend writes:
"I wrote to a web development company - but my letter got sent to an accountant who is the liquidator of that company! But he wants someone to look after his website..."

Nicky Wire

[Big Noise ]
- definitive proof at last that he's full of shit.

I always suspected Nicky Wire of the Manic Street Preachers wasn't quite as gosh-darn clever as he liked to make out. Remember "sweating out intelligence, like I don't know what it is" - there's a surprise. Or how about the classic rawk 'n' roll couplet "In the beginning, when we were winning" (that would be when "windmills were spinning" too presumably). Now we have some hard evidence, in the form of his intemperate comments on Napster. Yes, we know Napster wants to become fat and rich, valley boy. But how anyone - particularly a recording artist - can attack them for it while working uncomplainingly for an existing large media conglomerate that also wants to "control the world" is beyond hypocrisy. Has the man not heard of the DMCA yet, or does he think that represents a fair deal for musicians and therefore that's OK then? Perhaps Nicky is blinded by success - or wealth, or sheer lack of intelligence - and no longer able to choose a sensible target anymore.

...Hang on, this is the man who hoped Michael Stipe would die of AIDS. Did he ever possess a clue or is he just a pigshit ignorant, ex-working class taff with too much money?

Another huge disaster, oh what a tragedy

[Big Words ]
UK news:

A minute percentage of the country's population died yesterday in a freak accident that was over considerably quicker than the subsequent news coverage. Journalists scrambled to make a Big Deal out of a very short, simple story.

Disaster: what went wrong
Uninformed but authoritative-sounding speculation from someone in possession of exactly the same bare facts as everyone else, designed to introduce a note of needless urgency to an otherwise frustratingly straightforward event.

Disaster: industry in crisis
Blatent attempt to link today's big story with ongoing negative press against something only tangentially relevant which, in any sane world, would be entirely disregarded.

Shoot-to-kill arrest law forced through
Highly significant event that may change the entire course of national history buried lower down the page where no one will take much notice until it's much too late. Ongoing censorship efforts ensure that we won't be forced to play these games much longer.

Comment: I told you so
Resident columnist claims recent ills are obviously caused by his pet hobbyhorse cause, such as the lack of legalised flogging for dwarves, and goes to long and tenuous lengths to demonstrate the links.

Comment: Argh, why us??
Columnist of diametrically opposing viewpoint asks there has been so much bad news lately and concludes that the gods must have it in for us, to pacify cud-chewing masses with their half-baked, ignorant and dumb opinions.

Wacky nutcase
Crazy man does or says something slightly bonkers because he's mad, him, he just doesn't care. Vital distraction in case you took any of the above seriously.

Focus: More foot and mouth cases

Britain's ongoing agricultural crisis yesterday extended to the worlds of showbusiness and politics (Ed: are these actually any different?), as new outbreaks were confirmed in previously overlooked areas. A MAFF spokesman said: "Examination of new evidence, chiefly recent editions of Heat, Hello & most major music magazines, shows that the disease has spread into the entertainment world and that most celebrities now suffer from it to a greater or lesser degree. Furthermore, analysis of archive evidence - or "back issues" - suggests that that this has been the case for a considerable period of time." The spokesman refused to discuss whether the disease may actually have originated in the entertainment business and been transmitted from there to the agricultural industry, nor how such a transmission could occur and whether Richard Gere was involved. He also denied claims that a plan of mass slaughter was underway, triggered by the excavation of several large trenches in the home counties that observers noted were close to the homes of several members of the Spice Girls.

An industry spokesman, who we have kept anonymous for the purpose of injecting our own opinionated speculation, said: "If you read most major celebrity interviews, you'd have to be extremely kind not to assume that these people must have some sort of debilitating oral disorder. And of course, because they're shagging each other indiscriminately like gerbils, infection spreads quickly across both sexes."

America was quick to demand the expulsion of several UK celebrities currently visiting or resident in the country, including Robbie Williams, in an effort to prevent the spread of the disease within their borders. However, experts cited "everything Britney Spears has ever said" as proof that such moves may have come too late.

In a separate press release, Chris Evans refuted allegations that he had given foot and mouth to Billie Piper, although he did suggest he may have caught it from her.

In a further development, one leading academic expert claimed the disease was also rife throughout parliament and had even reached into the top echelons of the cabinet. Professor Jeremy Beauvyne-pene-Traition said: "If you examine the Hansard records, you'll find strong evidence that most MPs and ministers have been afflicted by some form of foot and mouth, particularly Jack Straw." A spokesman for the Home Office denied the allegation, saying: "Mfffrr fffhhhddd uhn nnnhhh mmmfffthhh. Bsshhttt."

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On the subject of foot and mouth, BB notes cynically and not a little insensitively in passing that it took precisely 0.05 seconds after the first cases were reported for NFU leaders to tell the public ("such as ramblers -spit-") to stay away from the countryside or, in other words, "Git orf moi laaand!" So no change there then. They were also quick to suggest that the outbreak may be due to the import of foreign ("-spit-") meat rather than, say, feeding animal waste back to animals or other intensive production methods.