The climb is part of the crest

A sharper realization of an oft-made point more or less whacked me upside the head earlier this evening. I stayed up later than I should have last night, and was at work about two hours later than normal tonight. Two different projects were in flight, but they shared a goal: Smashing through the "Now what the heck was I doing here, again???" barrier.

The reward was the end of the slog, by which I mean (mentally) duct-taping together all the pieces of someone else's work, to do what needed doing. Now it's all downhill--in the good sense of the term. On the drive home, I jokingly thought, "I could get addicted to that feeling." But the truth is that the cresting of both hills would never have happened without the work that went before (plus several short washes down the waterspout and itsy-bitsy climbs back up). Or, in terms less musical and mime-prone, the not-so-very-addictive part.

Pity, that. It wouldn't be the noisiest monkey I could have on my back...

Didn't see this conundrum coming

I managed to talk myself out of a Blackberry, but with Notion Ink's Adam delayed until August (if we're lucky), the siren song of a dedicated eReader has become louder. In my case, the scenic route around instant gratification is banging around the internet for product reviews.

Which is when it occurred to me to wonder how students will cite research (meaning publisher, edition, and most specifically page number) if digital books become the norm rather than the exception. As one video review for the Nook (or was it the Kindle?) eReader, noted, page number is irrelevant when the user controls font sizes. In that case, perhaps a simple chapter/paragraph or chapter/sentence citation will now have to do. Technology is grand and all, but I still wouldn't want to be the first student to submit that sort of citation.

It's the creators, stupid.

If you're in the mood for (mostly) content-free hyperbole today, look no further than The Atlantic's Closing the Digital Frontier. If you're not, allow me to summarize:

1. Traditional media/entertainment (nearly) brought about its own demise by buying into the early hype about information "freedom."
2. The web browser is dead.
3. "Curated" internet access--i.e. controlled by Apple, Netflix, Big Media, etc. is the future.
4. The near-monoculture in the U.S. of wireless carriers, smartphone OSes, will leave consumers with no choice but to shut up and pay up for the "best" stuff.
   
5. Curated apps and paid media will kill Google and search/aggregation in general.
   

Rebutting point by point:

1.) I call "Historical revisionism." The RIAA and MPAA hardly bought into the "information is free" mantra. Moreover, I recall paywalls throughout my experience with the web. I remember a fully "curated" World Wide Web. (It was called AOL.) I remember Disney buying InfoSeek and basing search results' "relevance" on who was willing to pay. That and the "portalization" of search was--IMLTHO--what drove us into the clean interface and impartial rankings of Google. And so I would even make the case that what is still killing big media and big entertainment is not pirated content, but rather the reduced barrier to entry for so-called "amateurs" who are equally or more talented than the "professionals." Thus, the demise is much more a matter of competition. That and the consumer figuring out how much they'd been fleeced for mediocrity--if not outright suckage.

2.) The browser is the fastest, easiest and most generic way to get information online, period. And that even with the royal pain that is cross-browser support. Also, smartphone disk space is limited, and expecting someone to give up drive space for a single-function app is pretty darned arrogant unless it's impossible to deliver the same functionality in a web browser. Is there any way Twitter can improve your experience with accelerometer (meaning Wii-like controls)? Don't think so. Ditto for Facebook, looking up phone numbers, finding a restaurant, GPS, etc. A bootstrapped software company is not about to invest months of coding in Objective-C and praying for Apple's laying-on-of-hands to replicate the same functionality that web forms could provide in two days with Dreamweaver and an upload to GoDaddy. If MySpace, Facebook, Twitter, etc. had gone the "application" route, we never would have heard of them, much less their mobile versions.

3.) Curated, paywall access works for content that's expensive to produce. For everything else, there's YouTube and long tail marketing. Getting the consumer to pay for streamed content is hobbled by data capping and attempts to control what's routed through The Tubes. In essence, Apple's set itself up in the business equivalent of a love triangle. On one hand, it's in bed with AT&T until 2012. On the other, it's wooing the content providers (Netflix as well as more traditional publishers and media). The interests of Apple's two paramours are diametrically opposed: One makes money pushing as much data to the consumer as possible, the other by limiting it. The consumer pays three times--for data, delivery and device. Which I personally don't have a problem with, but when each member of this love triangle is pushing what the market will bear, independently of the others...that's an oligopoly ripe for disruption. Particularly when, with three hands held out for each byte streamed to every device, the consumer is still expected to put up with advertising for the privilege.

4.) (And speaking of disruption...) Why Michael Hirschorn assumes that the boundaries of the various markets stop at the US border I can't fathom. I'm not knocking good ol' Yankee ingenuity--not in the least. But devices that sip battery life, add bulletproofing for spotty connections, are solar-chargeable, use freerer platforms (e.g. Android, Linux) and otherwise make virtues of scarcity are more likely to come from overseas. You know all those people who are manufacturing our gadgets or writing the code for them? After all these years, a few of them just might...just maybe...have figured out how to create stuff without Western input. If we're lucky, the usurious attitude of the Western titans even provided a little extra incentive to stick it to The Man. (Then we can sit back and enjoy the spectacle of watching Bollywood try to figure out what Hollywood hasn't. I'll pop the popcorn.)

5.) The amount of information stored on servers is not static, much less decreasing. Someone has to make it findable; someone needs to tie it together in relevant ways--with "relevant" being a highly subjective term. Individual applications are, by nature, too partisan, too one-size-fits-all. Certainly there will be niches focused and valuable enough to justify installing a new app. on a mobile device. But a niche isn't valuable until you are already aware of it...and know enough to assess the value of the information. And where would you find that online? Oh yeah...that would be through search and Wikipedia and blogs and maybe Stack Overflow-type sites. You know, all that stuff whose wake is being planned.

But I guess what chaps my hide--even more Hirschorn's smug assumption of the native superiority of brand-name content and distribution systems--is the collective view of the world as passive consumers dropping quarters into an internet that resembles nothing so much as a vending machine or pinball game.

Bottom line: The proverbial "killer app" is rarely created in a management retreat; still less often is it created when Joe Consumer somehow connects to Jane CEO and says, "Make me x." No, a "killer app" happens when its creator thinks of a unique way to solve a problem--even if the "problem" is mere boredom--and gets off her/his (figurative) backside long enough to solve it. Preferably in the most convenient, efficient, and perhaps even creatively satisfying manner possible. Any pipe-dreams on the part of the Big Boys of setting up more toll booths on the internet are not integral to the design. Unless the telco, entertainment, and hardware giants collude (and, less likely, cooperate) to create the One Web To Rule Them All, creators will win.

Frivolous Friday, 06.11.2010: The bees-eye view

I imagine that the ghost of Bob LaFollette would be pleased to know that Wisconsin lives up to its Progressive heritage by being on the leading edge of a food purity issue, namely honey. According to an AP article in Wednesday's La Crosse Tribune, honey standards are now being considered at the national level. See "Shumer: Import rule needed to limit honey "fraud" for the deets.

As with the Wisconsin standard, it's a no-brainer that if bees didn't make it, it shouldn't be labeled as honey. And if it's poisoned with medications, pesticides or what-not, it has no place on store shelves. Taken together, the premise should be a win-win for both consumer and honey producer.

Granted, the "no-brainer" aspect has probably limited the breadth and depth of debate. But even so, not all voices have been heard--in fact, billions have had no say whatsoever in any policy-making. I'm of course referring to the bees themselves. So to rectify the situation--and add a six-legged perspective to the debate--let's turn to our Senior Apian Correspondent, Beatrice.

fivechimera: Thanks for joining us, Beatrice.

Beatrice: Thanks so much for having me. Oh, and do call me "Bea."

fivechimera: Okay. So, Bea, as I understand it, sometimes your humans will feed you sugar water or corn syrup and even soy-based pollen to tide you through the cold spells. Frankly, is the species even affected enough to have a position on a regulatory definition of honey?

Beatrice: Oh, definitely. Obviously, some of the taint in adulterated honey comes from over-medication. That's something we'd like to see eliminated entirely. But at the end of the season, it really boils down to craftsmanship and letting nature shine through.

fivechimera: Craftsmanship? Meaning like a winemaker respecting the terroir and vintage?

Beatrice: Exactly. What two-leggers don't seem to understand is that, other than seeing the hive survive another year, the quality of the product is really the only other reward.

fivechimera: I guess I've never heard it put in quite such stark terms before. Would you care to let readers know a little more about that?

Beatrice: Well, I don't mean to complain. But maybe I should translate things into human terms context. Imagine that, right after you're born, the first thing you have to do is clean your room. Which you share with upwards to 60,000 of your sisters, half-sisters and half-brothers. You graduate from being a housekeeper to raising the next generation of brood to come along. Later, you might end up putting your life on the line guarding your home. Finally, you graduate to grocery runner until you wear out and/or something eats you. All of which will likely happen in about six weeks. And the sum total of your life's work will average out to one-twelfth of a teaspoon.

fivechimera: And having some idiot human completely ruin your handiwork with chemicals or impersonate it with corn syrup--after all that--I can see how that would be absolutely infuriating.

Beatrice: The human concern about parasites and diseases is completely understandable--trust me, we're even more concerned. The life I just described--that only happens if we're one of the lucky ones. If a parasitic varroa mite crawls into our cell when we're still a pupa, we might be born without wings at all. That's scary enough, even without CCD. Even so, there's a limit to how much good chemicals and sugar water can do for us. They're no subsititute for good practice and having decent working conditions in the first place.

fivechimera: I think that sentiment's something even we bi-peds can get behind, Beatrice. Is there anything else you'd like us to know?

Beatrice: I think the perception is that if it's a flower, it's all good for us. But the reality is, when we have the choice, we're actually quite deliberate about what we bring back for food. That's something we'd recommend to any species.

fivechimera: Absolutely. Well, I believe that we're just about out of time here, but, Bea, thank you again for sharing your unique perspective on our human doings.

Beatrice: It's been my pleasure.

Why bother to lead?

So I'm strolling back through the office this morning after scoring the day's first hit of coffee, when I notice two co-workers clustered around a third at his cubicle and overhear one ask in a semi-puzzled tone, "I don't think I'm the Captain?"

Context: For our work contracts, we generally have a position known as a "Job Captain," which is a side effect of being part of an architectural firm. So I didn't think much of it until the cubicle-resident--one of the more cynical folks in the office--say, "You are now." Which is when I realized that they were team-mates for the office scavenger hunt. In that light, I completely sympathize with "You are now," simply because there's no billing code for time spent on mandatory "fun."

That being said, it led to some reflection on the reflexive deflection of leadership. I've seen it at so many contexts. And I'd be a liar if I denied honing my abilities to dodge the time-wasting forms it takes. Because there are very obvious reasons for avoiding leadership:

• Avoiding wearing the bulls-eye when things don't go as planned. Or do go as planned, only with unforeseen side effects
• Avoiding the extra overhead and/or busywork that too often comes with the territory (e.g. the all-responsibility-with-no-authority fiction known as the "team lead")
  

In a sense, one of the few fringe benefits of "working for The Man" is a freedom from the responsibility--albeit not the consequences--of making poor decisions.

Yet, IMLTHO, we're still struggling through a recession of leadership--i.e. the balance is still too tilted toward punishing ideas vs. even giving them a fair debate (to say nothing of implenting them). Understand, though, that I'm not--in the main--knocking those who are making decisions right now. I'm talking about those who are content to sit on the sidelines and snipe. In which company I include myself, btw. Leadership isn't so much about telling folks what to do as knowing what needs to be done. I'm far, far too myopic that way--I know that. There's a long and uphill road ahead in that direction. But at least the first stretch is shallow: After all, learning how to lead oneself is relatively risk-free. And after that, at least you have a better sense of how it's supposed to be done. Even when you decide not to do it yourself.

Shout-out to Steve's posse

I just wanted to let folks know about a surprising customer service experience from this morning. When the guyzos at Steve Low's Midwest Toyota cleaned up the rear brakes on my car Monday, they discovered that a bearing cover had gone AWOL. The $4 part wasn't in stock, but they put it on order, and phoned me yesterday to let me know that I could swing by at my convenience to have them snap it in.

So I swung by at about nine this morning. I literally hadn't finished my coffee in the waiting room--my first cup of the day, y'understand--when A. popped his head through the glass door to tell me that that my four-wheeled baby was parked around the corner with the key in the ignition. "Wow! You guys are goooood!" I laughed. I stepped up to the cashier counter, wallet at the ready, but was waved on. "Oh, did you already put that on Monday's tab?" I asked. "Nah--we got'cha taken care of," quoth A.

In the end, it's not saving the cost of a $4 part and a few minutes of labor that means anything. At least not to me. It's the "We got'cha taken care of." See, the business isn't a matter of buying car parts and swapping them in for the bits that have gone kablooey. These folks seem to understand that they're really in the "making that worrisome noise go away" business. Or, more generally, the "peace of mind" business. And I thought that more than deserved the recognition. Because I personally believe that it's virtually impossible for the "peace of mind" market to become crowded. And even if it did, I think it'd be a much better world for that.

The hidden price of style

I'm starting to dread Steve Jobs' keynote speeches, because they more or less guarantee a new iProduct. To which I'm mostly indifferent, except that this inevitably (and immediately) precipitates another food-fight between the platform/language fanboys & fangirls. Case in point: Should my gentle reader feel that her/his opinion of the human race is running too high of late, Tim O'Reilly (@timoreilly) helpfully supplies the following two links. (Hint: Read comments for full effect.)

• iPhone 4 Is Nice, But It's Not Enough to Slow Android
• Words Apple Won't Hear (Right Now) - Code for Android First

Perhaps it's just that I don't have enough fortitude to follow such...ahem...dialectics...in their entirety, but I have yet to see one factor addressed. That factor is style, by which I mean the ethos of the programmer and/or code-shop itself.

A bit of background for my readers working outside the software trade: The two styles I'm talking about are loosely defined as "waterfall method" and "agile." Using broad-brush sketches, "waterfall" attempts an assembly-line process of design, build, test, and release. Agile, by contrast, iterates through these steps multiple times--as quickly as possible--until customers are satisfied with the final version. There's merits to both methologies, of course. Using the agile mind-set for the software that runs nuclear power plants is a Very Bad Idea for obvious reasons. Similarly, insisting on waterfall methods in a bleeding-edge web start-up is the short road to insolvency.

In the context of smartphone applications, I think that the difference is fairly obvious. Apple prides itself on--and enforces--polish and fit; Android's application market has gained a reputation--unfairly or not--of trading finesse for freedom. In other words, releasing a minimum viable iProduct will likely defeat the purpose; over-thinking an Android application will seriously--perhaps fatally--impact its time-to-market.

That's not to say that an iPhone/iPad software shack can't run on agile principles, nor even that Android applications can't be born of the waterfall school of development. But, overall, my best guess is that the platform will to some extent work with or against the process. That's not a consideration to be taken lightly. Changing the modus operendi for a one-person code-shop is a big deal. (In a nutshell, you're turning vices into virtues and vice-versa.) When additional people are involved, my gut-level math is that you don't multiply the difficulty by the number of people; you take the difficulty to the power of the number of people involved.

So, as tempting as the jump into a new market seems, the ultimate "price" isn't necessarily a matter of training, new development environments, and some language manuals. You just might have to decide whether the changes wreaked upon style are also worth the benefits.