Quartz City

I originally stumbled into Laura’s NYC Tales from MetaFilter’s story on the fallout of what happens when you get a celebrity’s old cell phone number (a potential Curb Your Enthusiam episode in the making). However I’m also a sucker for true-life tales of workplace dysfunction and her story of what happens when you work for a “futurist marketing consultancy and AmericaÂ’s foremost Trend expert” is horrifyingly priceless.

Whether you want to give the impression that you’re pounding out your book on a manual Smith-Corona in some rainy warehouse, or your conspiracy theory just needs that extra push of legitimacy, nothing says “Greetings From The Unabomber Shack” more than a cool-looking typewriter font. Get yourself over to Free-Typewriter-Fonts.com now.

While everyone is debating the merits of microwaving twenty dollar bills, this article in the RFID Journal is much more substantive and a lot scarier.

The system uses “nanometric” materials – tiny particles of chemicals with varying degrees of magnetism – that resonate when bombarded with electromagnetic waves from a reader. Each chemical emits its own distinct radio frequency, or “note,” that is picked up by the reader, and all the notes emitted by a specific mix of different chemicals are then interpreted as a binary number. Since the system uses up to 70 different chemicals, each chemical is assigned its own position in a 70-digit binary number.

For example, if the chemicals A, B, C and D were assigned to the first, second, third and fourth positions in the 70-digit number, then a mixture consisting of A and C would represent the binary number 1010 followed by 66 zeros. CrossID is testing readers that operate at three to 10 GHz, which is higher than the frequencies commonly used by wireless LANs and handheld computers, although the company has not made a final determination on what frequency the readers will use.

The tiny chemical particles can be embedded in or printed on paper. Readers can be placed inside copy machines to prevent unauthorized copying. One application would be to require that any document printed on CrossID’s special paper be photocopied onto the same type of paper. That way, an intelligence agency, financial institution or even a company wanting to protect its intellectual property could install readers at building exits to prevent unauthorized people from copying documents and leaving the building with them.

In the 1930s, Joseph Stalin introduced the giant Pacific Crab to the northern coast of the Soviet Union. Now the crab’s ancestors, now called the Kamchatka or Red King Crab have mobilized and are marching south along Norway’s coast, devouring everything in their path.

They now number more than 10 million and have reached the Lofoten Islands off north-west Scandinavia, leaving in their wake what one expert described as “an underwater desert”.

In a graphic display of the extent of the crab’s submarine domination, some photographs of the ocean floor in Kirkenes in northern Norway show a writhing mass of the ugly, spiny animals.

Northern clams and other shellfish, once so numerous that divers could scoop up handfuls, have been all but eliminated.

That article would be so much more improved if there was a Thomas Nast-style “artist conception” of a giant crab emblazoned with “C.C.C.P.” and a hammer and sickle on its back marching on Europe.

Because I’m such a “valued customer”, AT&T Wireless has decided to send me an “improved” T226 phone to replace my “old” T68i. Apparently there is something critically wrong with them because their definition of “improvement” is clearly suspect because when comparing the two, the T68i is clearly superior.

I’ve never really had many complaints about AT&T’s service, but clearly the fever has reached their head and they need to be put down.

Ladies and gentlemen, the drum solo. All of them.

It’s no great secret that I hate the Baby Boomers – in short, I despise their self-righteousness, their sanctimoniousness, their whining sense of entitlement, and a series of economic, social, and political plagues that my generation (and the ones following) are going to have to mop up. I can’t help but snicker at any “stick it to the Boomers” story, so when Alan Greenspan’s comments to the House Budget Committee hit the news I happily pictured him as a cackling Richard Widmark in Kiss Of Death kicking the Boomer wheelchair down the stairs.

The Long Beach Press-Telegram had a superior headline in their print edition: “Greenspan to Boomers: We Can’t Afford You”

(nota bene: I fully expect Social Security to be a non-entity by the time I’m old enough to be eligible for it. I’ve resigned myself to accept that the money I’ve paid into Social Security is lost and if given the choice I’d rather not pay into it at all.)