Walt at Random

Chances are, Cites & Insights 7:13, December 2007, will come out tomorrow. (I’ve trimmed it down to 22 pages and printed out the proof copy. Unless I see some ghastly error when I reread it tomorrow afternoon–and it’s always easier to edit other people’s writing–I’ll do the HTML pieces, upload it and publicize it.)

It will be a somewhat peculiar issue. Not that there’s anything new about peculiar issues of C&I.

It’s not quite the end of the volume. Some time–late November or early December–I’ll do the volume index and title page for all those folks who bind the print volume. (I’d still love to hear from anyone whose library actually does this, or does it themselves. I do–Kinko’s velobinding–but, of course, I would, wouldn’t I?)

I’m already 99% certain that there will not be a special Midwinter issue next year–and it’s likely that the January 2008 issue, volume 8, number 1, will appear relatively late. Possibly even in January (although that seems unlikely). It’s also likely that it will be relatively short and possibly peculiar.

There’s a reason for all this. The stuff I’m doing in my half-time-equivalent contract position reaches a major milestone at ALA Midwinter. That’s early in 2008–just about eight weeks from now. I have a pretty good idea what needs to be done.

I’m nearly certain I can do an adequate job within the half-time boundaries, leaving lots of time and energy for bang-up work on C&I (and Walt at random and my two print columns, neither of which is due until late January 2008, and the Academic Library Blogs book…oh, and holidays).

But I don’t want to do an adequate job. I want to do a good job (or maybe even a great job, pace Tony the Tiger), and I want to leave enough time to do the iterative work needed to get this kind of thing in the shape it should be in.

So I’m going to devote a little extra time and a lot of extra attention to that project–and less time and attention to C&I and other writing. It’s worth it for now. The alternative is to go back to 65-hour weeks for a while, and I’m not prepared to do that.

If I didn’t mention anything, would most of you notice any difference? Maybe not: Peculiar issues are somewhat typical of C&I Some of you might notice the probable lateness of the January issue–but it might not even be all that late.

Still, in the interests of small-t transparency, I thought I’d mention it anyway.

Oh, and if you’d like reading material for the trip to and from Philadelphia in January: Buy one of my books! See the bottom of the page or just go to Cites & Insights Books (or get them from Amazon). For that matter, you could be the first to write a review of Public Library Blogs: 255 Examples, or even a scathing commentary on why it’s not worth $29.50 for public libraries.

Some memes are more fun than others…

OK, so readability or reading level is largely fiction–but it’s entertaining fiction.

Naturally, I had to try the Blog Readability Test. Lo and behold: Junior High School

Oh, isn’t that cute: the code you paste sneaks in an ad for cash advances. Not on this blog, bubba. I my write at a junior high school level, but I comprehend pretty well.

Junior high school. Ain’t that sumpin’?

The test site says it can handle most web sites. It couldn’t handle my personal site or C&I, but it can handle pure HTML. So I tried a few essays from Cites & Insights:

• Library 2.0 and “Library 2.0″: High school.
• Cites on a Plane 2 (the Conference issue): High school.
• On Disagreement and Discussion: High school. Hmm. I’m beginning to sense a pattern…
• The Making it Work essay from June 2007: Aha. College undergrad level.
• But most other essays I check…High school.

Which is, frankly, OK with me.

Other libloggers? Up to them to decide whether to play and whether this is a good thing, bad thing or just peculiar thing. But let’s look at a few of the non-library blogs I track:

• Bad Science: Genius level (!)
• Civilities: High school
• Freedom to Tinker: College (postgrad)
• Good Math, Bad Math: Junior high school (interesting: This has some of the deepest articles of the lot)
• John Scalzi’s Whatever (Scalzi’s a science fiction writer): High school

Hmm.

[Updated 11/16 after the pasted code broke. Maybe because I removed the ad?]

Starting here, I’m doing something I should have started long ago: When feasible, writing the first part of the review immediately after finishing the flick—and before checking date, run length, director, etc. on IMDB. I’ve been doing “immediate reviews” in some cases for a while, although not for every movie—but I think there are cases where I really need to offer my views before “informing” them through IMDB. The first movie here is a case in point.

Diamond Thieves (aka The Squeeze), 1978, color. Antonio Margheriti (dir.), Lee Van Cleef, Karen Black, Edward Albert, Lionel Stander, Robert Alda. 1:39 [1:26].

Good cast, well filmed, fast moving—and for some reason I’m pretty sure it’s a TV movie. Or, if it isn’t, it has the hallmarks of an “action” TV movie. How so? Strong cast but no real “openers” (stars who can assure a strong opening week). Catchy music that seems entirely derivative. Some odd plot holes at points. And, maybe most of all: I didn’t feel anything about any of the characters, so I wasn’t saddened or shocked when they were killed. Oh, and the fact that it’s on a disc like this even though it can’t possibly be more than 30 years old, given the cast. The title gives you much of the plot. Thieves stealing from what I take to be other thieves. Things go badly. An imported safecracker survives (wounded) and interacts with various other actors. Lots of double-crosses. Several shootings. Lionel Stander—sidekick Max in Hart to Hart—doesn’t overact in his role as a pawnbroker/fence. Karen Black chews the scenery, as does Van Cleef. And it ends.

So, now I’ll go check IMDB. Hold on… Well, look at that: Not a TV movie. Instead, a cheap Italian/West German production with many different titles in different countries—and the version here is missing several minutes, which may explain some of the plot holes. One IMDB reviewer calls it “European Trash Cinema” and that may be a good description. Well, it could have been a TV movie, even though it got an R rating (presumably for shootings with no gore). I’ll give it $1.25.

Treasure of the Jamaica Reef (aka Evil in the Deep), 1976, color. Virginia L. Stone (dir.), Stephen Boyd, David Ladd, Chuck Woolery, Rosey Grier, Darby Hinton, Cheryl Stoppelmoor, Art Metrano. 1:36 [1:32]

This one’s a little odd, in several ways. The title and some other opening titles are slightly out of focus (maybe a digitization problem). Much of the movie’s filmed underwater—at the site of a real sunken ship off Grenada—and generally very good, although a little murky at times. Lots of voice-overs from Stephen Boyd. It’s about a group of friends who get salvage rights for a sunken 200-year-old Spanish Galleon off Jamaica and set about finding it. They seem undercapitalized, very informal in their methods and way overtrusting. For some reason, they’re not at all concerned when two people on another boat show up more than once—naturally, as it turns out, intending to kill them off and take the treasure.

The only significant female in the cast spends most of her time in a bikini, but does a credible acting job. At the time she was Cheryl Stoppelmoor; she changed that second name to Ladd (by marrying David Ladd, who she met during the filming) and went on to greater fame. For that matter, the cast could suggest a TV movie (Chuck Woolery?), but it’s not. The sleeve description seems bizarre in one respect: “There’s a proverbial fly in the ointment: a big grey fly, known as a killer shark. Made before Jaws, its producers were accused of trying to rip off the Spielberg film.” Well, there’s a mention of sharks, but the cast is never imperiled by killer sharks, at least on in the version I saw: The peril is the people on the other boat.

Apparently this is the G-rated version: The uncut version includes shark violence (and apparently a lot more other violence). Just another indication that nobody at Mill Creek actually watches these movies. I must admit, I suspect I prefer this without the shark; I give it $1.25.

The Klansman, 1974, color. Terence Young (dir.), Lee Marvin, Richard Burton, Cameron Mitchell, O.J. Simpson, Lola Falana, David Huddleston, Luciana Paluzzi, Linda Evans, Ed Call, David Ladd. 1:52 [1:41]

Excellent cast. Mostly decent acting, although nobody was likely to get any award nominations. A “narrow” movie—set over a few days and entirely in one small backwoods Alabama town. Good color, good print, good sound. The missing footage mostly isn’t obvious –most likely omitting a rape scene (and some other violence you really couldn’t show on TV) and otherwise cleaning it up for TV. A jarring movie, not surprisingly, since it deals with coldblooded Klan racism and violence in a period that’s uncomfortably contemporary—a few years after the Voting Rights Act, while some Southern towns still managed to keep blacks from voting. Without giving away much of anything, it’s a dismal ending: Lots of people wind up dead, with no real resolution in sight.

Checking IMDB (after writing the above), I’d have to say it’s not a terrible film. As trimmed here, it’s mediocre, most flawed because it’s somewhere between a violent melodrama and a message picture. As cinema, it’s a mess. As a flick, it’s so-so. $1.25.

Lola (aka Twinky), 1969, color. Richard Donner (dir.), Charles Bronson, Orson Bean, Honor Blackman, Michael Craig, Paul Ford, Jack Hawkins, Trevor Howard, Robert Morley, Susan George. 1:36 [1:18].

An odd one, and if you think the title bears some resemblance to Lolita, you may not be entirely wrong. (Note that there are several other movies named Lola–but I doubt any of them were originally called Twinky!) Charles Bronson (back in his pre-action days) plays a mid-30s American writer (of novels hot enough to get banned in some places) in London, who gets involved with a 16-year-old schoolgirl (in a very short-skirted uniform quite plausible for the time). She convinces her to marry him: In Scotland, at the time, she’s apparently legal without parental consent. Her parents are shocked—but her grandfather (Trevor Howard), somewhat of a dirty old man, seems delighted. They go to America. Things don’t go terribly well. Orson Bean has a good role as Bronson’s lawyer, who thinks the marriage is absurd.

The biggest problem, really, other than titles that seem to focus primarily on the exposed thigh and bent leg of a bicycling schoolgirl, is a total lack of resolution. There’s no ending to speak of. Not that this would have been a great picture anyway—it’s remarkably superficial given the story line. (That could be the missing 18 minutes; they’re not obvious as it stands.) Looking at IMDB after writing the above: Susan George was Lola/Twinky, and 18 at the time. Good print, good sound, surprisingly good cast, generally good acting. Just not much depth or closure. $1.25.

For a while now, I’ve turned off comments for posts more than a year old–the hard way, going in and editing each comment, a month at a time. A nuisance, but it cuts the amount of spam even further, particularly the “meaningful spam” (most of which is something along the lines of

I’m not sure I understand everything you say about [title of post is automatically inserted here], but I’ll have to read more about it.

Or something along those lines. The purpose of the spam is, presumably, to increase the visibility or PageRank of the URL the commenter provides. There are variations, of course, but the message is typically innocuous and sounds as though someone could have said it–except that I use a lot of post titles that really don’t make sense as part of that sentence. This kind of spam is almost always attached to old messages, where I’m presumably paying less attention. (Spam Karma 2 actually catches it pretty much all the time–but that means more spam for me to check, to rescue legitimate comments.)

Somebody–Jessamyn West? Somebody else–recently noted a newish WordPress plugin, comment-timeout, that does this automatically at whatever interval I choose. Getting a little braver (and with better SFTP tools at home), I actually downloaded, uploaded, and activated this one on my own, instead of asking Blake Carver to do it. (Taking off the training wheels? Maybe. At least this time.) The plugin has some nice nuances: You can set it so that ongoing discussions don’t get trapped at the timeout mark and so that popular discussions (you set the level of popularity) can go on even longer.

Looking at the reality of comments around here, particularly comments from my core audience, I’ve set it up like this, subject to change down the road:

• For most posts, commenting gets turned off six months (actually 180 days) after the post. If you look at the May 2007 archives right now, you’ll see that: You can comment on some posts but not others.
• For posts with ongoing discussions, commenting can extend 60 days after the most recent approved comment.
• For posts with more than 20 comments (the default measure for “popular” and certainly a solid count for any liblog post), commenting can extend 90 days after the most recent approved comment.

Coincidence that I had to clear more spam today (before installing the plugin) than I’ve had any day in more than a week? Who knows?

Oh, then there’s another frequently-occurring spam text–one where I really wonder what universe the spammers operate in. The text refers to my “awesome guest book.” I don’t have a guest book. I can’t think of a single blog that I read that does have a guest book. At least “awesome blogroll” would have some faint hope of success–not here, but elsewhere.

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The ALA note (hmm, I grumped about ALA interactive services a year ago–for much the same reason):I got the email asking me to renew my personal membership online. Logged in (the password sent in the email–password sent in gmail, which is a really stupid idea, ALA–was wrong, but that was OK: I know my ALA password). Got to the “category of member” page…and thought about it. Hmm. I’m not salaried (the new part-time position is a contract position). I’m semi-retired. I’m not really a librarian. Should I be paying $180? ($120 ALA, $60 LITA) I needed more info, so clicked on the appropriate link.

Which goes to a list of division memberships. Not to the page that explains the rules for different categories of ALA personal membership. Indeed, using the site’s search function

Stop laughing. Site search functions do work in some cases.

I was unable to find a page that defined “non-salaried librarian.”

I was about to choose that $42 category–well, actually, I did, but hadn’t checked out yet.

I mentioned it to my wife. She’s fully retired now, but was in a similar “unsalaried, but still doing some work” situation for 2007. (Of course, she is a degreed librarian.) She said something about “I think you have to earn less than X.” X being somewhat less than my contract and other library-related earnings should total next year.

So I canceled the transaction. Today, I went in via a different route and found the appropriate page–not by searching, to be sure. Indeed there is a limit of X for “non-salaried.”

I still have a mild quandary. My new position isn’t managerial as usually defined: Nobody reports to me. It doesn’t require an MLS or state certification. Come to think of it, that’s been true of my work for close to a decade…

Does that mean I’m library support staff and can get by for $42 instead of $120?

I’ll probably pay the $180 for 2008. Oh, and check my preferences again to see where ALA will send various emails this time around.

I discussed this with appropriate people at ALA and will act accordingly.

I have a serious question, particularly for those of you who contribute to or maintain wikis:

Does it violate the “wiki way” for signed content pages–that is, essay contributions with prominent signatures–to be locked against edits (but have open Talk pages)? As a wiki user, would you be offended by such locked pages?

This isn’t a hypothetical. I’m working on a fledgling wiki that should become a major resource. It’s clear that much of the content will consist of signed essays. Some of those essays will be contributed directly to the wiki. Others will be contributed indirectly (by people who’ve already written them or are unwilling to deal with wiki markup). Still others will come from third-party sources and those must be locked (as a general rule).

Every locked page will have an open Talk page, open for contributions by anyone with an account on the wiki. We’ll try to make the Talk content more visible in a number of ways. When people have substantial alternative viewpoints, we’ll link to those content pages from the locked pages.

What do you think?

• As a writer, if you contribute something that should be (and is) signed–anything in the first person, anything with a strong voice, anything that’s primarily opinion or your own experience–would you prefer that page to be open to edits by others or would you prefer it locked, edited only by the wiki’s editor(s)?
• As a wiki user and contributor, would you be offended by frequent locked pages when they’re always accompanied by live Talk pages?

Thanks! Comments by December 1 will be most useful, but comments will stay open for the usual 6 to 12 months…

Jon Carroll’s been writing his San Francisco Chronicle column for 25 years. Today’s column is about that–and about how Carroll’s been making it up as he goes along.

I’ve been reading Carroll’s column for 25 years, and appreciating it most every day. (But, as he notes in the anniversary column, if you asked me what yesterday’s column was about, I might not remember.) He’s a fine writer, an interesting thinker, willing to tell uneasy truths about himself (for some portion of that quarter-century, he was seriously drinking too much, and he spent some time later on talking about that).

Read the column. It’s a good one, as usual.

I go back a long way with Jon Carroll, in an odd and unidirectional way. When he was editor of California Pelican, UC Berkeley’s humor magazine, somewhere in the mid-60s, I submitted a couple of manuscripts. After looking at them, he informed me that I was not funny. That has probably saved me a lot of grief over the decades. (“Unidirectional”: there’s no reason Carroll would know or care who I am.)

Carroll writes a little less than I do: 198,000 words a year, where I’m running somewhere north of a quarter million. Carroll writes a whole lot better than I do. Oddly, he’s never been syndicated: the Chron thinks he’s too peculiarly local.

Anyway, good column, and thanks, Jon Carroll, for a quarter-century of great writing. Here’s the final paragraph:

I am sometimes asked for advice on writing. The only two things I know for sure are: Good writers read a lot, and good writers write a lot. As the artist Chuck Close said: “Amateurs look for inspiration; the rest of us just get up and go to work.”

It could be Bloglines–well, no, probably not.

It might be Firefox.

It might be something else entirely.

Whatever the cause, I’m finding that in many but not all cases where bloggers either incorporate a photo or a video into a post, or even link to a site that has such a video, the photo or video is nowhere to be seen.

(Never mind the irritating curiosity of Travelin’ Librarian’s feed, which includes lots, lots of titles that are apparently for missing photos–and if you go to the blog itself, neither the titles nor the photos are there. I’m guessing TL is somehow merging a Flickr feed into his RSS feed, and surely wish there was a way to turn that off…)

Today was particularly odd: A link from a blog to a Slate column that incorporates a video, No video screen. No button to bring up the video. And that’s a site where I’ve watched videos before.

In one sense, it’s fine: I’m starting to fall behind on writing and reading anyway, so spending less time plowing through blogs and watching videos is probably a good thing. But it sure is mysterious…especially because it’s not all videos or photos. Not even close.

For the longest time, there seemed to be many differing opinions as to what “Library 2.0″ was all about.

So much so that I wrote an issue of Cites and Insights about it, an issue that was downloaded more than 15,000 times in PDF form (as of October 20) and another 15,000 times in HTML form (again as of October 1). For that matter, between September 1, 2007 and October 28, 2007, that issue was downloaded more often than any current issue. Apparently there are still people out there who think it’s unclear what it’s all about–lots of people.

So imagine my surprise at the title of this post: “We Know What Library 2.0 Is and Is Not.”

Wow. No ambiguity. No disagreements. Michael Casey and Laura Savastinuk know.

It’s an interesting post. Not quite as interesting as the sheer certainty of the title, though.

Steven Chabot isn’t wild about the certainty of the post title, even as he agrees (as do I) that empirical research makes sense–that offering “solutions” nobody’s really asking for is less than ideal.

Chabot “can’t really stomach the opening statement” (the post title).

I don’t feel nearly as strongly. I think the absolute certainty of the title is amusing.

The post? Worth reading, as is Chabot’s.

I know, I know, I’ve said more than once that people shouldn’t need to explain why they’re not blogging for a while…but always with an explicit or implicit caveat: unless they want to.

I want to.

You’re unlikely to see any posts here for at least five days, maybe more–which is even a little more irregular than this irregular blog usually runs.

Why? For positive reasons, in this case–positive but also disruptive:

• Tomorrow I’ll fly out to Philadelphia, and go from there to Baltimore. (This means getting up way too early to drive to SFO instead of SJC, my favorite and closest airport–because there are nonstops from SFO to PHL, even if on airlines I’ve never used before. In this case, a 7 a.m. nonstop makes the whole trip workable.)
• What’s up in Baltimore? PALINET’s Annual Conference & Vendor Fair, at the Tremont Hotel & Conference Center, October 29-30 (with a Digitization Expo October 31, but I won’t be going to that).
• On the way from Philadelphia to Baltimore–and much more so in Baltimore–I’ll meet the people I’m working for and with in my new (part-time) position as Director and Managing Editor of the PALINET Leadership Network. Up to now, everything (including interview and hiring) has been done on the phone or via email.
• I’ll also get to meet some of PALINET’s members and start talking up the PALINET Leadership Network. I’ve gotten off to a running start over the past two weeks in setting out milestones and looking at the current beta wiki to see how things might proceed. We decided not to add me to the program as such–probably just as well, given how early it is in the process–but I will be meeting with most of the PLN Advisory Group to work through some issues I’ve identified.
• Why am I flying into Philadelphia rather than Baltimore (an airport I like quite a bit)? Because Tuesday night we’ll drive back to Philadelphia–and I’ll spend Wednesday morning at PALINET headquarters before flying back home Wednesday afternoon (just in time to help deal with trick-or-treaters, specifically the older ones from outside the neighborhood who show up after dark).
• I still travel without technology–at least for the moment–so I won’t be blogging during that period (or checking email, or reading Bloglines, or…). And chances are I’ll spend Thursday and maybe Friday writing up notes and catching up with everything. So a post prior to next weekend is fairly unlikely.
• For my LSW Meebo friends, that also means I’ll be even scarcer over the next week, as in not there at all. Which has mostly been the case since 10/15, so no big surprise…

Not that you’re likely to notice. A bunch of bloggers at IL will cause blog overload for most avid liblog readers anyway. If experience is any guide, readership numbers will probably rise as long as I don’t actually write anything (that’s not just my experience–it’s a fairly frequent occurrence).

If you need a dose of my writing, there’s always the current Cites & Insights–you can write nasty email after reading the ©3 essay, see whether you find the 12-page “Thinking About Blogging” standoffish, and try a few Trends & Quick Takes on for size.

Better yet, if you’re in a public library or library school, buy a copy of Public Library Blogs: 252 Examples. (Or Balanced Libraries: Thoughts on Continuity and Change, same link–both books also available at Amazon.com.)

Yes! A library-related post!

Well, sort of.

Unshelved has an arc this week on self-checkout. Yesterday’s strip (which I just saw today) has Dewey demonstrating the self-check procedure.

• First scan your bar code.
• Then enter your secret number
• Now scan the barcode on the front of the book

I won’t give away the punch line. I assume most of you read Unshelved anyway (right?). Some of us even own some of the collections (I have the first two, but may add later ones later, once sales of Public Library Blogs: 252 Examples go skyrocketing somewhere well beyond the current three dozen mark).

Oh, and I’m also back to being a regular user of my own public library. Which is on its second generation of self-circ machines. Both the first and second generation of those machines, at least as implemented at MVPL, make me wonder about that second bullet. And, for that matter, about how much difference there may be among these systems.

Here’s what I find and like about how they’re implemented at MVPL:

• A video screen walks you through the process and makes it almost foolproof–starting from the point of orienting your library card correctly to put it in the holder. The old machine–as I remember it–had you put the card on the flatbed and then put books on top of it. The new one has you put the card in a separate holder; once you remove the card, you’re done and get a printed receipt.
• Secret numbers? I don’t got to show you any stinkin’ secret number! Which is to say, there’s no such requirement at my library–and, as far as I remember (last time I was in was two weeks ago), there’s no keypad anyway.
• MVPL puts the barcodes on the backs of the books and other materials. That may not be ideal, since some patrons probably get confused by the EAN barcodes.
• The thermal-printed receipt identifies each book or other item by title/author, item ID, and shows the due date for each item. It also has the current date and time, the library name (technically, “City of Mountain View Public Library”) and operating hours (which I regard as quite good: 10-9 M-Thu, 10-6 Fri-Sat, 1-5 Sun). And it shows “Amount owed” if any. What it does not show: Anything that would identify me as the borrower, if I drop the receipt somewhere or leave it as a bookmark when I return the books. Three cheers for that configuration. (I seem to remember that the first-generation receipts did show either my name or my library card #, but I may be mistaken.)
• The two machines work–pretty consistently, fairly fast, pretty well. (MVPL serves 72,000 people and has excellent circ stats. I guess two machines are enough.)

Oh, and two other things I really like, one of which is only indirectly related to self-circ:

• Self-circ is optional. The circulation counter is staffed and the people are happy to help you. If you get frustrated, you just walk over to the counter and let them handle it.
• A ready reference/front-line help desk, very informal and non-imposing, is near both the self-circ counter and the circulation counter, with someone ready to provide on-the-spot help to people at the most likely spot. This is only a guess, but I’m guessing the person at the front-line desk would offer to help if somebody was obviously having trouble with self-circ.

Secret numbers? Really? I guess I can see the reasoning…after all, somebody could steal my library card and check out hundreds of books. On the other hand, would they ask for photo ID at a manual circ desk? Probably not.

First, there’s “privatization.”

Here’s the quote (from an article that’s appeared in NYT and IHT):

“Google could be privatizing the library system by offering a large, but private interface to millions of books,” Kahle said.

Brewster Kahle’s certainly not the only one to misuse the language this way–just the latest.

I’m not in love with Google by any means. I think OCA is a great idea (although I wonder where the “alliance” has gone, given Yahoo’s almost-total silence and Microsoft’s diverging effort).

But “privatizing the library system” or, which I’ve also read, “privatizing the public domain”–I’m sorry, but horespucky.

If Google negotiated exclusive contracts, maybe.

Otherwise, that language is like saying that, if I check a book out from my library that happens to be in the public domain, scan it, and return it to the library, I’ve “privatized” the book.

Google is borrowing books from libraries (in large quantities thanks to special arrangements), scanning those books, and returning them to the libraries with the promise that the books won’t be damaged. Its deals are nonexclusive. Google’s scan does not in any way modify the terms under which the book itself can be used.

Google Book Search absolutely expands findability for books and in no way restricts anyone else from building and maintaining book-search systems. Google Book Search for public domain absolutely expands access to the text within books, and in no way restricts anyone else from providing similar access. (For that matter, Google’s silly first-page “conditions” are suggestions for use of their PDFs, not legal restrictions.)

How can expansion be viewed as contraction? How can improved access be regarded as privatization?

Want to attack Google? Fine. But is it necessary to debase the English language to do so? Or does it just make a great soundbite?

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Then there are the Wesch videos. Oh, you know them: The absolute must-see videos that will transform your thinking about… whatever.If you love them, that’s fine. More power to you.
On the other hand, if you find some of them nearly incomprehensible and generally think they’re mostly form without much content…well, you’re not alone.

Hey, maybe I’m just not a visual learner, particularly with this particular kind of visual.

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Not that I’m ever going to “get on the cluetrain,” but I sometimes find it amusing to read “world-changing” books and those renowned as representing the true future a few years after they’re published. (Yes, I know, the general absurdity of Being Digital hasn’t hurt Negroponte’s rep as The Man–in general, being boldly wrong seems to work as long as you’re wrong at least three years out. Now cheap computers are more important to the children of third-world countries than sanitation, medicine and actual teachers. Maybe so.)So I finally checked out the cluetrain manifesto: the end of business as usual a couple of weeks ago, fully intending to read the whole thing so I could critique it.

I gave up halfway through, since I wasn’t going to scribble notes in the margins of a library book and my notecards were filling up too rapidly. Noting the apparently self-loathing Apple marketer decrying (a) marketing (b) companies that keep their futures secret, noting the more recent history of one of the authors, noting that…well, I’m sorry, but most business in 2007 is pretty much like most business in 2000 (when the book came out): As usual. Most marketing in 2007 is marketing, again pretty much business as usual. If you think you’re having a conversation with your bank or your supermarket or your fast-food joint or at least 80% of those from whom you buy things…well, you’re welcome to your beliefs.

Of course, I never have been much for manifestos.

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And just for the giggles, here’s a blast from the past, courtesy of Cites & Insights 2:7, May 2002. In addition to one of Negroponte’s famous quotes (1996: “we will probably not print many [words] on paper tomorrow,” I picked up one of Wired Magazine‘s “bets on the future” from 2002:

Here’s one $1,000 bet: “By 2010, more than 50 percent of books sold worldwide will be printed on demand at the point of sale in the form of library-quality paperbacks.” That’s Jason Epstein’s bet (with NYPL getting the proceeds); he sees PoD as “the future of the book business.” Opposing: Vint Cerf, who bets that “by 2010, 50 percent of books will be delivered electronically.”

I wonder who gets the $2,000 in the remote possibility that, two years and just over two months from now, the vast majority of the books sold worldwide are (a) physical objects that are (b) printed in large quantities using traditional methods? A remote possibility that I’d guess has about a 99% chance of being the case.

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Now that this obviously Luddite individual has put together this blog post, time to go do some other work that happens to involve wikis and other web software. I don’t live on the web, but I sure do take advantage of the good tools and media available there…when they suit my purposes.

Yes, we watch TV. Not a huge amount (certainly no 21 hours a week). If you don’t count the weekly Netflix movie, figure anywhere from 42 minutes to 1 hour 45 minutes a night, with most nights an hour or less–during the summer, just plain 42 to 48 minutes a night (the run length of great old and newer series on DVD–48 minutes for the older ones, 42 minutes for some of the newest).

Not, as it turns out, enough to justify Expanded Basic cable at Comcast’s steadily increasing rates–I figured out that we–well, I–watched a total of about 20 hours a year on channels beyond the true basic, and given the differential of $35/month, I didn’t think that particular viewing was worth $21 an hour. (Just off hand, I can’t think of any TV viewing that’s worth $21 an hour!) [A curious twist: When we dropped back to basic basic, which Comcast gave me surprisingly little guff about, the one Expanded Basic channel I was watching was adjacent to a must-carry basic basic channel, so it's still visible. For now.]

One reason we haven’t purchased a DVR yet: Given how little we watch or want to watch, it’s hard to justify the monthly fee for a TiVo, and that’s about all that’s left on the market. (We still have an S-VHS VCR. For now, that’s good enough.)

But hey, come the new season, we’re willing to give some things a try, looking at show descriptions, local reviews, other sources. Rarely anything at 10 p.m. (I’m an early bird–we’re taping Men in Trees), no procedurals or other cop series, very few over-laugh-tracked comedies.
This season began with some intriguing and odd possibilities (heavily overlapping circles) and our big-paper local critic had definite thoughts on them, mostly similar to most other TV critics, from what I can see. For series we were at least mildly interested in, those thoughts could be summarized:

• Reaper: The hot series, must watch, great stuff.
• Chuck: Maybe OK, but derivative and with too many similarities to Reaper, which after all, is a sure thing winner.
• Pushing Daisies: Quirky as all get out but an outside possibility.
• Moonlight: It got the rare SF Chronicle #5 Little Man: The empty chair, the worst possible rating. The review was scathing even by this reviewer’s harsh standards. But, hey, we watch Angel on DVD and loved Buffy–might another “good vampire” series be worth trying?
• Back to You: Great cast, but will anybody really watch an old-fashioned three-camera sitcom in the 21st century?
• Aliens in America: Much more favorably reviewed as a fresh new comedy.

So Reaper was the sure thing…

Now, what follows are what we think; there’s no reason anybody else should agree. That said:

• Moonlight: The critic was right. We couldn’t make it through 15 minutes before giving up. Without Joss Whedon’s genius, this was just a mess. Cross that one off.
• Reaper: Strong start, but it seems to be a one-trick pony and the ensemble isn’t gelling very well. We’ve basically given up on this one. (Great Devil, though–but even there, a one-trick role.) Gone.
• Chuck: Here, the ensemble seems to keep getting stronger and the premise allows an unusually wide latitude. We’re sold on this one, at least for now. (As always, your mileage may vary.) I’d say the critic was too enchanted by Reaper and too negative about Chuck.
• Pushing Daisies: Yes. A mannered show (the saturated color palette, the deadpan vocal deliveries, the nature of the narration) and a completely bizarre premise (not that Chuck and Reaper have, shall we, say, everyday premises)–but the cast, writers, directors pull it off with style. Here, too, the critic was right (for our tastes).
• And the two sitcoms are both, well, sitcoms. I screwed up taking Back to You, missing the show entirely, and we weren’t particularly upset–but the cast is solid and we’ll watch it when it’s convenient and there’s nothing better to do. Aliens in America–well, so-so.

Otherwise? I already mentioned Men in Trees We’re still enjoying Bones (although it’s certainly odd as an 8 p.m. series). Oh, and of course, How I Met Your Mother–and, with Dana Delaney added, Desperate Housewives. We’ll probably lose at least one more as the season progresses…
Is there a point here? Mostly that, when two shows have somewhat similar premises (mostly that the key characters in both Chuck and Reaper work in big-box stores), it’s hard to tell which will thrive and which will wither–and that, for us, it’s mostly up to whether the ensemble works and whether the premise turns out to be stultifying.

Three more second features, albeit none with singing cowboys—and a fine full-length movie.

Phantom Rancher, 1940, b&w, Harry L. Fraser (dir.), Ken Maynard, Dorothy Short, Harry Harvey, Ted Adams. 1:01.

Apparently this flick was late in Maynard’s career of trick riding and solid acting. The acting’s solid—but the film’s gimmick doesn’t make a lot of sense. Maynard’s uncle is gunned down, and he arrives to take over, finding that his uncle was universally loathed and he now holds mortgages on most of the farms. Naturally, an evil gang is behind this; naturally, the most respected man in town is the villain. Maynard plays an odd game: Telling the sheriff to foreclose on Ranch X the next day if the money’s not there, then showing up in a mask and cloak at Ranch X that night, dropping off enough money to pay off the mortgage—while Maynard’s character is also joining the gang. Of course it all works out: It’s an old-time one-hour Western. Good enough for $1.00.

Broadway to Cheyenne, 1932, b&w, Harry L Fraser (dir.), Rex Bell, Marceline Day, Matthew Betz, Huntley Gordon, George ‘Gabby’ Hayes. 1:00 [0:51].

Truly strange: Rex Bell plays a New York cop who gets injured in a gang shootout and sent home to recuperate—“home” being a ranch near Cheyenne. One of the gangs has high-tailed it to Wyoming and is setting up a ranchers’ protection racket—and in the process, riding around in a car with a gunsel using a machine gun to kill off cattle. Naturally, the honorable cowboy/cop on his horse (and several other outraged actual cowboys/ranchers) manages to defeat the gang and their machine gun. The print’s very choppy and missing nine minutes of dialogue. George Hayes wasn’t really “Gabby” yet, just another rancher. At best $0.75.

Stagecoach to Denver, 1946, b&w, R.G. Springsteen (dir.), Allan Lane, Martha Wentworth, Roy Barcroft, Peggy Stewart, Robert Blake. 0:56 [0:53].

Allan Lane is Red Ryder in this odd story of character doubles and corrupt sheriffs and land commissioners. The sleeve says “Star: Robert Blake,” but that’s nonsense: 13-year-old Bobby Blake plays a minor (if pivotal) role as a sick child. It’s decent entertainment if you don’t look too closely. $1.00

Angel and the Badman, 1947, b&w, James Edward Grant (dir.), John Wayne, Gail Russell, Harry Carey, Bruce Cabot, Irene Rich, Lee Dixon, Tom Powers, John Halloran. 1:40.

The first full-length film in this set—and it’s a beauty. It’s also the first film John Wayne produced, and has been called Wayne’s most romantic Western, and I can believe that. I almost didn’t watch this because I’d already reviewed it in another set—but then realized that set wasn’t one of the 50-Movie Packs (it was the “DoubleDouble Feature Pack” given away with subscriptions to the doomed InsideDVD). When I reviewed that disc (C&I 4:12, October 2004), I complained about the print quality but found the movie good enough to get past the problems. Fortunately, this pack uses a much better print, with no apparent noise, scratches, or missing frames—one of the best prints I’ve seen in these megapacks.

So what about the movie? John Wayne is a fast-shooting bad man, Quirt Evans, who winds up injured and in a Quaker household. The girl of the household (Russell) cares for him and falls for him—and the way Wayne looked at age 40, it’s not hard to see why. (In one or two scenes he smiles an open smile instead of his usual hard-ass half-smile: It’s a revelation.) After a series of situations and tribulations, some of them involving other bad men out to get Wayne, all ends well. The movie’s generally well acted (although the cynical old Doctor does do a bit of scenery-chewing), with a particularly good job by Harry Carey as the sheriff who waits patiently for Quirt to screw up so he can hang.

What makes the movie remarkable, other than good plot, good acting (I’ve never been a big Wayne fan, but maybe that’s my mistake, and Russell’s excellent as well—as are Cabot, Rich, and the rest), and good filmmaking, is the gimmick. This isn’t exactly a plot spoiler—the movie’s 60 years old—but skip this sentence if you feel it will lessen your enjoyment: Wayne never once fires a gun during the picture (except maybe under the title). A fine picture and a good print—I enjoyed watching it again. $2.

Cites & Insights 7:12, November 2007, is now available for downloading.

The 28-page issue is PDF as usual (HTML versions of most essays are available at the home page). It includes:

• Bibs & Blather
  

Thanks! – A note about my new position as Director and Managing Editor of the PALINET Leadership Network (and why there was no liblog extravaganza this year).

• Following Up & Feedback

A tiny section correcting two name problems and listing the publishers who’ve disowned PRISM.

• (C)3: Balancing Rights

“Sometimes They’re Guilty,” a review of and commentary on the first RIAA suit to go to jury trial.

• Trends & Quick Takes

Nine trends (including a librarian winner of the Ig Nobel for Literature–and no, the article isn’t at all a joke) and eight quicker takes.

• Net Media: Thinking about Blogging

The biggest chunk of this issue–ten thousand words considering general blogging issues and library-specific blogging issues from October 2006 until recently.

• Interesting & Peculiar Products

Six products (including a variety of views on a certain high-profile Apple product that appears to excel at everything except its supposed primary function) and a dozen Editors’ Choices and other winners.

• My Back Pages

Six snarky little essays. As always, this one’s only available as part of the whole issue.

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I’ve revised the Word template for the HTML essays to be a little more “printlike.” If you find that it doesn’t work for you, let me know: I might change it back. If you don’t notice a difference, that’s OK too.

ALA TechSource occasionally sends me copies of Library Technology Reports in the hope I’ll mention them here or in Cites & Insights. (I wrote an LTR issue a couple of years back.)

The July/August 2007 issue is Next-Generation Library Catalogs by Marshall Breeding. It’s short, even by LTR standards: 42 pages plus two blank pages for notes. It’s also well done, offering a fair amount of information on a range of newer catalog interfaces in a readable manner.

Unfortunately, it could be considerably more useful, if it was 53 or 54 pages instead of 42 pages. How so? Because most of the 25 figures, screen shots from catalog interfaces, are simply too small to be effective.

Twentyone of the 25 figures are full or nearly full screen shots. They’re reproduced one column wide (on a two-column page) and roughly one-third of a page high. And most of them are too small.

The screen shots should have been reproduced using the full width of the text area, which means they’d also be two-thirds of a page high. Yes, they’d be a little on the large side–but they’d also be gloriously easy to make sense of, instead of requiring a magnifying glass in some cases.

For 21 figures, making them 2/3 of a page instead of 1/6 of a page adds 10.5 pages total (half a page per figure). The way chapters break, it might turn out to add 12 pages instead of 11–but that would still be well within LTR’s normal range.

It’s a good report. (Is it worth the price? That’s not for me to say.) It’s too bad the layout people didn’t spot the problem and make it an even better report.