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Yesteryear

Sunday, March 20, 2011

March 20, 2011


           Look what I found! All these years I’ve talked about the computer from Taiwan, the one that was, in those days, not supposed to exist. (Clones were a later development in this country.) This is a photo of my first Apple ][e from 1981, with the top cover off. I had this computer working on my desk back when you thought computers were science fiction. Note the expansion cards and the two-button joystick. That box on top of the monitor is a 7” floppy drive.
           This is the same computer I did my initial experiments on artificial intelligence and the spread sheet “Visicalc” that I was too early to make any money off. The screen was green on black, 8 shades of green. I claim to have the first word-processed letter in Canada on this computer, but that is another story.

           I lost money on my first venture, the famous 1982 attempt to sell mortgage tables. I was too far ahead of my time. Also, in late 1981, I got my infamous job with the phone company and that brought everything to a standstill for the next 15 years. The phone company makes it impossible to get on with your life when you work there.
           I had first programmed a computer in 1971, ten years before what you see here. Rusty and I later worked in Jerry’s orchard that summer, and had concluded computers were “something interesting”. Years later, Rusty found this clone in the market in Taiwan and sent it to me in pieces, parcel post. I retired that computer in late 1992, when PCs became so cheap Apple no longer sufficed for my uses.

           Not my best day at all. I see the current issue of Time is warning people about the same thing I did 15 years ago. In fact, the author has lifted a few too many of my phrases verbatim, which is annoying at the least. He warns the same as I always have, nothing on the Internet is free, you are paying for it with your private, personal information.
           The author is a reporter and he isn’t thinking ahead, but I repeat myself. He concludes the mass of private data collected is not that bad. He’s wrong, the system has not yet begun to abuse the cloud. It is already past the stage where people who do not have profiles can’t get jobs, loans, or insurance—no profile makes them social outcasts. And he says “not that bad”? The whole article smacks of plagiarism.
           There is talk of legally limiting this information skimming. It is probably too late for most people. The bottom line is, do not use your real name on the Internet unless you have no other choice. There’s a lot of sinister people out there and the abuse is propagated by indifference, no shortage of that. Myself, I don’t care, since I can get anything on you but you can’t get anything on me except what’s already on my hospital birth certificate. But I saw all this coming in 1995 when I found my first cookie.

           How about trivia? Did you know Plato’s real name was Aristocles? Plato in ancient Greek means “wide”. It seems he was rather broad-shouldered. Tough if that’s not trivial enough, you see I also made another prediction four years ago and I just came back from grocery shopping with my own money. A gallon of milk is $6 and loaf of bread is almost $4. I told you this inflation was going to return with a vengeance. It costs big time to ship food 1,500 miles, the average distance the food Americans eat has to travel to reach their plate.
           No, don’t plan to grow your own. First of all, most of you can’t, you’ve lost the touch. Second, you still can’t grow it cheaper, although that day is arriving. Last, most communities in city limits prohibit growing vegetables in your yard unless it is in a hidden garden in the back yard.

           You want to hear about robotics, I can tell. What if I told you I’ve been mis-using the term? It’s true. But I can’t think of another thing to call it. Perhaps I should define my experiments, will you settle for that? To me, robots that emulate humans are not the best solution. From a robotic sense, humans are a general purpose machine, while a robot that specializes in a few tasks probably suffers if designed after humans. For the technical types, a robot based on humans is called an android.
           Non-human models include those that move by wheels or legs and the robotic arm also called the “appendage” robot. Some works sub-classify robots into wheels, tracks and so on, not me. But to point out what I mean, take a specialized robot that moves on six legs, a very non-human number, at least until China gains the lead in stem cell research. Six-legged robots are very stable and adaptable. One day we may need robot spray.
           It is not my intention to pursue a robot that can listen, see, or talk. There are plenty of other activities more in my scope. Like driving a motor, which I did last week. In ways like that, I’ve already exceeded what I set out to do. But I would like to continue until I automate some simple task. This will probably include using sensors, detectors and something that measures distance. Those are far beyond anything I can do at this point.

           How about an example? Who recalls my frustration with my earthquake detector back in 2004? I could build the device, but had no way of recording data while I was away. I’d considered trying to modify an old turntable or clock mechanism, but then there is the pen and ink. Now today, I can already see that an electronic sensor wirelessly connected to a computer is the solution. There you go, a very non-human robot contraption.
           One place I won’t be buying a solar panel is the Fafco counter at Home Depot. When I asked for prices on items they had on display, I got nothing but double-talk and the runaround. It depends, they said. They wanted my home address so they could come out and case the joint, er, I mean, evaluate my “needs”.
           No way was I telling two shifty, squirming, snake-oil types where I lived. All I wanted was the price of the solar panel I was pointing at. They claimed not to know. That folks, is how you pay for things with your personal information, and that folks, is what is wrong with American business today. Every last damn salesman is a con artist. How do I know they were shysters? It depends, I said.

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