Apple Tablet? Really?

If this is what the rumored Apple tablet is going to be — basically a bigger version of the iPod Touch — then I'll pass. I mean, really, what's the point of a device like this? It's too big to be an iPod or an extremely mobile computing device like the iPhone, and I already have an iPhone anyway. Yet it's too small and underpowered to be useful in the ways a laptop is useful, as a real computer that just happens to be portable. In fact, the only niche I see a device like this filling is the netbook niche, which Apple has already eschewed, and which I agree will prove to be a flash in the pan, a fad. I guess it's possible they could be going for gamers, but that seems unlikely to me. The Apple tablet that I'm hearing about sounds like a netbook with a touchscreen, which, frankly, just isn't compelling in the least.

Besides, I thought the advantage of tablet computers was that you could draw on them. I thought they were for artists. This thing doesn't look like you're meant to use it that way at all. And isn't the whole reason Apple went with a virtual keyboard on the iPhone because of the small size of the device, to conserve space? What would be the purpose on a larger device?

I realize all is speculation at this point, and maybe I'm missing something about this thing that isn't obvious because the device hasn't even been announced. I mean, who knows, maybe it's something completely revolutionary, like nothing we've ever seen before, with fabulous, new untold uses and capabilities. Or, hell, maybe you can draw on it. That would be great.

But if this thing's for real and it's anything like the rumors say it is, I'm amazed anyone's excited about it at all. It sounds like a computer without a purpose.

Oh, and one more thing: when it comes out they should call it the Ablet. Right? Don't you think?

Totally.

Google's Definition of Beta

So for, like, forever Google apps — in particular, Gmail and Google Calendar — have bore a beta label. Now, no one has any idea why this has been the case, but this week Google has decided to remove the beta label with little more than PR-speak as an explanation:

"We realize this situation puzzles some people, particularly those who subscribe to the traditional definition of “beta” software as not being yet ready for prime time." (via John Gruber)

Gruber himself retorts:

"Imagine that — people thought that what Google meant by “beta” was what everyone else means by “beta”. Shocking"

Classic Gruber.

Now, I've heard Google spin it this way all over the web, but what I keep wondering is what Google's special, newfangled, hi-falutin' definition of beta actually is. The closest I've seen is this:

"Others say that, over the last five years, a beta culture has grown around web apps, such that the very meaning of "beta" is debatable. And rather than the packaged, stagnant software of decades past, we're moving to a world of rapid developmental cycles where products like Gmail continue to change indefinitely."

Um... What the hell are you guys talking about? Really. What is a "beta culture?" Seriously. What is that? And are you telling me that Google's apps are the only ones to "change  indefinitely." That's funny, because I keep running these software update thingies on my computer and all its applications. And every year or so I install new versions of said apps, loaded with new features. So tell me again: How is your definition of beta different than everyone else's? And why in the name of sweet merciful heaven has Gmail been beta for the past five years?

Ridiculous! And the more you try to spin it the more arrogant and full-of-it you come across.

Just admit it. You're afraid to commit. It's okay. We get it. There's no shame in that.

The oddest thing is that Google clearly thinks of the term beta as completely meaningless:

"Don't despair... for those of you long-time Gmail-ers who might feel some separation anxiety, we've got a solution. Just go to Settings, click on Labs, turn on "Back to Beta," and it'll be like Gmail never left beta at all."

That's right. You want the beta label back? Just turn it on. Which begs the question, why did they use the term for the past five years?

It's just stupid.

Twitter: No, I Fully Admit, I Don't Get It

The buzz around Twitter is, frankly, reaching a pitched and utterly annoying frenzy. Some of the latest stuff I've read, though, has inspired me to add my voice to the throngs. Yes, that would be you people.

Now let me start by saying I don't use Twitter. I don't even have an account. And this leads me to my first beef about Twitter: the barrier to entry. "Come on!" you say, "All you need is an email address and a password." Yes, This is true. But in a world where a user such as myself already has about 80 trillion user accounts, and about 20 trillion of those are in now-defunct, out-of-style, unused social networks, one starts to think a bit more carefully about signing up for anything at all anymore. I mean, Jesus, I still get email from Friendster. Fucking Friendster! And don't even get me started on the whole online dating thing. Suffice to say, I've been doing this for a while now, and I've gotten gun-shy.

But the other, bigger, more hidden barrier to entry — the one no one talks about much when they talk about Twitter — is the fact that to Twitter "properly" takes a certain kind of work. It's not like starting a blog; you can't just start Tweeting in a vacuum and hope to get anywhere. No, Twitter requires effort and strategy. Effort in the following of other Twitter users and, eventually, strategy in being followed by other Twitterers. It's not that I mind work — I certainly do my fair share of it — but the goal of Twitter work seems to be following and/or being followed. And I've never been much of a pack animal.

A friend of mine, who has also been reading about, but so far refrained from joining, Twitter, recently remarked (in a Facebook status update, no less):

"I've been reading about this for the past couple days and it seems to me what Twitter does is take educated and mobile people who would form a kind of elite regardless of the technology of the day, and offers them another way to seperate [sic] themselves from the masses while at the same time allowing them to assert that they are in fact very well-connected."

This describes a feeling I've had for some time about Twitter, but have been unable to put into words. Twitter has an air of exclusivity that I find off-putting. Defensive article titles like, "Twitter Quitters Just Don't Get It" don't do much to ameliorate that feeling. And so, something that at it's heart is perfectly benign, and potentially even useful or entertaining — an extremely micro micro-blogging platform with a small per-post character limit — has become something that fosters a certain sense of resentment from those of us who choose not to partake of its offerings. If there's been a Twitter backlash, it's probably largely due to the defensive posture of its users. And I believe it's partly this posture that my friend is talking about.

It seems to me that the other part of my friend's argument — and the other part of my hesitance at signing up — is context. Like I said, I'm kinda burnt out on the whole social networking thing. But I recently joined Facebook just the same, and I've stuck around. And the reason I can stomach Facebook is context. When you sign up for Facebook you immediately have a context, and that context is your friends. What better context could there be? Everyone wants to stay connected with friends, and Facebook handles this better than any social network I've used so far. I think Twitter's lack of context, while certainly being part of its charm, is another barrier to entry for many. For the technologically savvy (which I consider myself to be), and for those inclined to experiment with social networks in general (which I no longer consider myself to be so much), the lack of context is far less vexing. And those seem to be just the sorts of people using Twitter — the elite my friend is referring to. They seem to have figured out a way to make Twitter genuinely useful. For them. But by outward appearances, Twitter's context seems to be less about staying connected and more about appearing clever amongst a group of peers.

To those elite Twitter lovers though, I say bully for you. You get on that Twitter client-of-the-day (I must admit, some of the client apps look beautiful enough to make me want to join purely from an interest in interface design) and you tweet your little hearts out. I bear no grudge against this. I just personally have no desire to be any more connected than I already am. I don't see how Twitter will be useful or enjoyable for me. I don't get Twitter, and I'm pretty sure I just don't really want to.

And bully for me too. 'Cause guess what? I don't get Flickr either. Or MySpace. Or feed readers. In fact, there's a whole lot of stuff I don't get.

And all the snide little articles in the world aren't going to change my mind.

Shocked to Shit

I really like my Apple aluminum keyboard. I really do. It's compact and attractive, and hairs don't get all caught in it, or if they do you can't see them. The keyboard is springy and resistive; it's got a really nice feel to it. Unless, of course, you've just walked up to it across a carpeted room. Then it's, all like, "Bzzzt!" and my hair's all standing on end.

Aluminum keyboard owners all know exactly what I'm talking about.

I'm assuming the thing's grounded as it hasn't toasted anything yet, and so it isn't bad for my computer. But man is it hard on my nerves. Every time — and I mean every time — I touch the damn thing I get, like, twelve-thousand volts coursing through my poor frazzled little index finger. It's getting a little annoying.

Who knows? Maybe they don't get static charges in Cupertino like we do in New York, but you'd think the brainiacs at Apple might've built something in to their fabulous keyboard to prevent this sort of thing from happening.

As it is, I may have to start wearing gloves.

Thrifty but Evil

I had my first ever Planes, Trains and Automobiles type experience this year. And I owe it all to Thrifty car rental.

It all starts way back on December 12, when I used Hotwire to make a car reservation. Since I was working through the 24th the earliest I could make the reservation was Christmas Eve, so, of course, I wanted to book something well in advance. This didn't seem to be a problem; Hotwire produced several viable options. I chose Thrifty for two reasons: 1) it was the cheapest, and 2) it was close to my house. There are a number of car rental agencies near me, actually, and I've worked with a few, but I'd never tried Thrifty, so I looked for reviews online before booking. Most folks had only minor issues, which could be said of most of the other agencies as well. So I went for it. I booked a car. I made, what we refer to in the talking biz as "A Reservation."

In case you're fuzzy on the concept, let me briefly walk you through it: When an individual makes a reservation he or she enters into an agreement that says, in essence, that he or she will give the provider of a service or resource money to procure said service or resource at an agreed upon time in the future, and that this provider should hold — or "reserve," hence the term — this service or resource for the individual until said time. Not to be too pedantic, but here's the New Oxford English Dictionary's first definition of reservation:

reservation noun 1 the action of reserving something : the reservation of positions for non-Americans. • an arrangement whereby something, esp. a seat or room, is booked or reserved for a particular person : do you have a reservation? • an area of land set aside for occupation by North American Indians or Australian Aboriginals. • Law a right or interest retained in an estate being conveyed. • (in the Roman Catholic Church) the practice of retaining a portion of the consecrated elements after mass for communion of the sick or as a focus for devotion.

As you can see, the concept of holding something, retaining it for the future use of the individual is key here, I think we'd all agree.

Unfortunately, particularly considering the fact that a large portion of Thrifty's business must surely rest on the concept of the reservation, they seem not to fully grasp the idea. For when I arrived at the Thrifty counter to pick up my car at the agreed-upon time, I was told that there were no cars available. I was told that they'd overbooked and that I would not be able to get a car for the evening. I was told that there were eighteen others in this same boat, that boat being stranded in New York City on Christmas Eve, despite having made a rental car reservation well in advance. I asked why I hadn't been notified and was told, "It's not Thrifty's policy to do that," to which I replied, "Then I will not be using Thrifty ever again."

After trying everything I knew to find a car through other agencies — literally impossible given the timeframe — I decided to give Thrifty a call on the phone to see of they were at least prepared to offer some sort of recompense for my Nightmare Before Christmas. The woman on the phone had only apologies to offer. I told her, "You do realize that if you do nothing for me, you have lost me and all my friends and relatives as customers forever, and that I will do everything in my power to spread this tale as far and as wide as I possibly can. Are you okay with that?" No response.

So, here we are.

As much as I'm tempted to conjure up all sorts of systems metaphors and analogies, I'll resist. Suffice to say that Thrifty's failure to do the one thing they're tasked with doing — providing a rental car — on a crucial night such as Christmas Eve is inexcusable. And their response to that failure is nothing short of reprehensible. Let it be known that Thrifty does not care one ounce about service or the satisfaction of their customers. For that reason alone you should spend the extra $10-20 and use a reputable agency. So far, Hertz has not let me down, and when I asked them what they do in such a circumstance I was told, unequivocally, "If we book you a car we'll find you a car." Based on that response alone, Hertz has my business for the foreseeable future.

I spent Christmas Eve alone eating tacos on the couch, fuming and watching reruns of something or other I can't recall. But in the end I managed to get home. My family ended up driving all the way here, and then we drove all the way back down, all on Chrismas Day. I am grateful to them for that, and glad we got to spend some time together, despite the major inconvenience.