Soooo, in that spirit I recently finished reading Hanging Out, Messing Around, and Geeking Out by Mizuko Ito and about a hundred other people (I exaggerate, but a lot of people were involved in the writing and research that went into it).

The book is about the various ways that children use the internet and related technologies, and is based on over twenty field studies on topics from Neopets and MySpace to Pro-anorexia groups and Harry Potter fans. It's a scholarly tome, particularly the introduction, but the bulk of the book uses plenty of enlightening examples and quotations from the source studies to illustrate the academic points being made, so it's not too hard going. I found the three concepts introduced in the title quite useful for understanding kids' relationships with technology, and the labels chosen seemed to be quite an intuitive and apt fit (unlike other attempts I have seen to introduce new concepts, such as Christopher Kelty's tortured labouring of "recursive publics" in Two Bits, but more on that another time).

I think it's useful here to briefly explain those concepts, as they structure the entire book:

Hanging Out

This is the state of just being present and available through technology. So it includes Facebook updates and text messages like "doing maths homework " that aren't particularly illuminating or likely to start a conversation, through to more interactive online chatter and game-play. It's a very social activity, as the name suggests: an online equivalent to loitering with friends on street corners or in the park, but they don't have to be there in person or even at the same time. In fact, as children are increasingly restricted from being with friends in public places, hanging out online may be one of few places left for them to socialise. This begs the question, if children are unable to take part in this kind of online activity (or prohibited by parents who see it as unworthwhile) will they become excluded, or even ostracised, from their normal social world?

Messing Around

This could be seen as a step-up from hanging out in terms of the engagement with technology. The kind of examples given in the book include customising a MySpace page, sharing music with friends, and fixing computer problems. It doesn't have to be a particularly intense or directed activity (although it can lead into that) but rather just playing with technology to meet a vague goal.

Geeking Out

This may develop from messing around, and covers more concerted, technical or enthusiast activity. Basically I think it means a hobby carried out wholly or partly online. Some activities, such as fan-created anime subtitles, are made feasible through the internet while others, like participating in Final Fantasy XI player guilds, can only exist online. Geeking-out activities that are a little more grounded in the offline world include learning music production and computer repair.

* * * * *

I think it's possible that these ways of using the internet are not necessarily unique to children, but they may reflect what naturally happens in a population with lots of spare time in which to tinker with computers... the findings are directly applicable to university students, for example, and the book does look at such older students in historical or follow-up studies. But it would be interesting to see if the same concepts apply, for example, to patterns of usage in computer-savvy retired people — are they hanging out, messing around, and geeking out too?

All in all, a very interesting read, but not a light one. It stirs the imagination and hints at many further questions, rather than trying to serve up answers on a platter.

1. It's a life-affirming oversized iPhone that's so wonderful it also cures cancer
2. It's bigger than a phone but less functional than a laptop, neatly filling the non-portable non-useful market niche
3. It sounds like a high-tech feminine hygiene product, with a fresh fruit aroma

The last point has been taken to its bitter and mercilessly logical conclusion with the introduction of the iMaxi — an iPad case in the shape of a sanitary towel. The iMaxi's description is best left to Hip Handmaids, the talented housewives who make this must-have accessory:

With its durable vinyl outer layer and plush, quilted-cotton sleeve, the iMaxi helps keep your iPad clean and dry. Plus, the iMaxi's Velcro-latched, advanced wing design wraps snugly around your device, so your iPad always stays where it should. Best of all, it shields it from all those unsightly and embarrassing data leaks that would make any motherboard worry!

It's great that they went to the trouble of making this atrocity, but they should have just Photoshopped it — the only people conceited enough to buy one would probably want to pay for it with inside jokes and a cashier's cheque from the bank of Smugland.

Hip Handmaids' iMaxi

Hip Handmaids

Embarrassment like this on tap with Openbook
Photo by arthurohm

I'm not the first person to notice that Facebook is addictive. But it's not addictive in a bog-standard nicotine-to-gambling way — it's frustratingly mind-numbingly soul-destroyingly addictive, on a par with daytime TV and 24-hour news channels. But Facebook goes much further than TV's lean-back style of dependency: it nails the chair to your arse and staples your eyes to the screen, maintaining a state of helpless absorption that's neither completely passive nor truly interactive.

Why does Crackbook Facebook have this effect? Well, I believe it addresses a basic human need for gossip — who's doing what, when, where and to whom. It doesn't matter if you barely know the people involved, just the delicious knowledge that someone somewhere is doing something vaguely interesting, offensive or illegal is enough to tweak the pleasure-producing parts of your brain. But there's a problem: the juicy details we crave don't appear that often, so we keep browsing the site long after anything vaguely satisfying has been gained from the experience. Once in a blue moon you might stumble across an interesting photo or revealing status update, but on the whole it's very very dull.

But now there's a solution: a site that delivers the finest titillating chatter without any of the fishing around. It's called Openbook, and takes advantage of two things: Facebook's search interface for programmers, and people who make their status updates completely public. Not only do you get to see plenty of embarrassing status updates, you even get to choose what kind of cringe-inducing updates are shown. And if you can't be bothered with that, just pick from a list of terms other people have searched for. Unsurprisingly there's lots of filth on display, but some of the cleaner status updates contain phrases like these:

• Playing hooky (maybe not for long)
• I hate my... (job/life/body/poor awareness of online privacy)
• don't tell anyone (oh, the irony)

So there's all the spicy stuff, little risk of awkward encounters with people you actually know, and all the stalking gossiping goodness.

So every line of code has been checked and rechecked, every pixel polished until it gleams. But your index finger hovers over the keyboard's enter key — there's something nagging at the back of your mind, something that might get picked up by Apple's notoriously high (and not always consistent) standards. You can't put your finger on the problem, and dismiss it. After all, you've had apps accepted before. Confidently you hit enter, and send the app in for approval. It's called iSealClub. What could possibly go wrong?

Not too surprisingly, this seal-clubbing app was rejected by Apple because of its objectionable content. Smyth took it to the computer press, asking why you can't club seals on the iPhone when you can hunt deer, kill Pygmies, steal cars and shoot innocent bystanders. A good point, but somehow it still doesn't make clubbing seals seem OK.

The final word was had by PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) who thanked Apple CEO Steve Jobs for rejecting the app by sending him some chocolate seals. Made from vegan chocolate, of course.

I can't help feeling there's something a little incongruous going on... are chocolate seals the confectionery of choice for PETA staff? If so, what treats are being passed around at other charities? Are Barnardo's workers merrily tearing the heads off jelly babies? Perhaps anti-safari campaigners hide behind their Jeeps furtively scoffing Lion bars? Well, they have to cope somehow.

For the non-squeamish, and animal-rights activists who need a more direct release than eating tiny chocolate animal sculptures, here's a short video of the app:

More about iSealClub at www.isealclub.com

Be careful with your Apple, you don't know where it's been.

Let's introduce this with a few famous words from Arnold Schwarzenegger. Before he became the Governator, Arnie uttered some of the most memorable lines in movie history. I'll be back. Hasta la vista, baby. Don't drink and bake.

OK, so Arnold's culinary advice from Raw Deal isn't his best known quote. But it is a personal favourite and was brought to mind by Apple's treatment of two Mac owners who tried - and failed - to get their wonky computers repaired under the terms of their extended warranties.

So what's the connection? Well, Apple refused to fix these machines because they had been "contaminated". How could this happen? Nuclear fall out? Exotic diseases? Splashes of lead-based paint? Nope, it was something much more mundane: their owners were smokers and, ignorant of the dangers of passive smoking, had chuffed away merrily as they surfed the web. No doubt they groped the keyboard with their stinky paws, stubbed out ciggies on the LCD screens, and blew noxious fumes into the fragile little buggers' USB ports. Smokers are like that.

Not only had these computers been choked by second-hand smoke, but Apple was concerned about their employees' safety. As a responsible company, Apple wouldn't put its employees in contact with anything that's bad for their health. And, according to the American Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA), nicotine is a hazardous substance. Separately, those are two perfectly sensible statements. But by a less-than-robust logical deduction, Apple has put the two together and fallen for the new phenomenon of third-hand smoke*.

With third-hand smoke not only is someone smoking nearby a danger, but so is coming into contact with an object which has previously had someone smoking nearby it. Doesn't that cover a lot of things? Surely most buildings and vehicles have housed a smoker at one time or another? While we are going down this road, it's probably best to steer clear of anything a leper - I mean smoker - has touched. Or looked at. Or thought about. And if you pass a smoker in the street, it's perfectly OK to punch them in the face. But put a glove on first.

* * * * *

The term "third-hand smoke" was in the news in January this year following a research study on the topic. Unsurprisingly the newspapers completely ignored the actual content of the study and merrily reported on the new dangers of third-hand smoke. The research was actually a survey of peoples' beliefs about third-hand smoke - it didn't assess the dangers at all. Well, they say never to let the facts get in the way of a good story. In Hollywood.

Thanks to:

The Consumerist and the NHS

So what if I'm dead? We can still be friends! (photo by M.V. Jantzen)

Facebook has an new feature called "Reconnect" which, in keeping with the site's social cosiness, encourages active users to get in touch with those who are less active. "Write on their wall! Suggest new friends!" it bleats, coaxing like a parent who says "What happened to that nice so-and-so? You should send them a Christmas card."

What Facebook hasn't taken into account is that, sometimes, sadly, it's best not to get back in touch. For example, you might have fallen out. Or been jilted by them. Maybe they were jilted by you. As a general rule, if either party have jilted, are jilting, or will in the future jilt, don't contact them. The biggest social faux pas, however, is getting in touch with friends who have passed away. On Ouija Book, maybe. Facebook, no.

But that hasn't stopped Facebook suggesting that users reconnect with friends who died months or years ago. And when this was pointed out to Facebook management, what did they say? Did they go red and mumble something about the programmers not realising? Nope, they blamed the bereaved for not contacting Facebook to have the deceased's profile "memorialised". Nice.

So when you are busy doing unimportant stuff like organising a funeral and dealing with solicitors, and maybe - heaven forfend - are a bit unhappy, what you should really be doing is contacting Facebook to memorialise their ****ing profile.

Yeah, while you are at it, login to their Twitter account and in the big box at the top labelled What are you doing? write "Being dead. Forever. Don't bother replying, because I'm not really into this social networking thing any more. LOL!"

Facebook's deceased form

A tomato yesterday (photo by Damon Green)

In February this year the president of conservative think-tank The Sutherland Institute met with the organisation's largest donor. The donor had a number of ideas on how to advance the institute's goals, and one was to improve the website. He had visited the site recently, and was concerned that their message wasn't being communicated properly.

You see, one of The Sutherland Insitute's governing principles is "Limited Government", but the website said they believed in "Limited Government Except When We Don't Get Our Way". Maybe so, but isn't that a little too direct? The Institute also believes in "Personal Responsibility" but the site had it as "Personal Responsibility & Taking Away Others Choice". You can applaud the honesty, but the statement does lack polish.

In fact, all of the "governing principles" seemed to have got a little mangled:

Now the president was awfully confused because they had recently updated the website, and he was pretty sure it was all in order. Upon further investigation, he discovered that the donor had been looking not at the official Sutherland Institute website at sutherlandinstitute.org, but a parody website at sutherlandinstitute.com.

You might think the extreme governing principles would give the game away. Or maybe the forthcoming event which features a discussion called "Hiding Your Fear of Homosexuals". And if all that fails, then at least there's the text "This website is not affiliated with, endorsed or sponsored by the Sutherland Institute. It is a parody site, an opposing political platform." But nah, clearly it's the right site — there's the logo at the top!

See the difference? (Photo by Hysterical Bertha)

Anyway, the president had to explain several times to the donor that the website had nothing to do with them, because he didn't understand that there was a difference between dot-com and dot-org. You can only imagine the confusion if someone told him about the 278 other top-level domains. Actually the president himself had to spend "several minutes" studying the parody site (which consists of a single page) to realise it wasn't their own. Yes, despite the words "it is a parody site".

The President, all upset, went straight to the World Intellectual Property Organization (WIPO) to get the offending site handed over, presumably so other gullible and illiterate visitors wouldn't get confused. The parody site owner didn't dignify proceedings by putting his side of the story across, but that didn't matter because the WIPO panel ruled in his favour anyway.

The moral of this story is, um, well... it depends what you believe. Maybe it's to always be tolerant of others' views. Or that freedom of speech is an absolute right. But I think it's this: always register the dot-com.

Real site: www.sutherlandinstitute.org

Parody site: www.sutherlandinstitute.com

Thanks to Domain Name Wire

That same year a TV program was eerily accurate in predicting the modern internet. Here it is:

So Mum gets a big monitor for shopping, and seems unimpressed to the point of despair by the wares on offer, but decides to buy something anyway. She also gets two little monitors for snooping on the kids, and any unwitting guests in the swimming pool.

It's a sign of the times then that Dad has three big screens to play with. On the first he gets to see the damage inflicted on his credit card earlier in the day by Mum, and his decision to beat her senseless for it is written all over his face. (That was fine in 1969.)

But what did "Father" use the other two monitors for? The program was so clairvoyant predicting internet shopping, banking, webcams and email (aka "home post office") that there can only be one answer: the middle screen was for porn and the third screen was for... more porn. That's why Dad needed three screens, and Mum's best hope for dodging a beating.

In 1969 they thought it was better to talk about replacing cables than go into that.

But it's a miracle that no-one really has been injured, because the lost property department at LAX (the main airport serving Los Angeles) deals with 1,200 misplaced laptops every week. If they are one inch thick on average, you get a pile 100 feet high. That's the height of a ten storey building. Amazing. Even more fantastic: ten times as many laptops are lost when you take all US airports into account.

Blimey.

...then dump your laptop and run away barefoot

Those statistics are in a recent report commissioned by Dell (PDF). But this report is fishier than Billingsgate. If visitors to LAX are really losing that many laptops — roughly one every eight minutes — I'm flying out there right now to pick up some freebies. Confused travellers must be running around like headless chickens, arms flapping wildly, as their precious computers are carelessly discarded on every available flat surface. Laptops left in the departure lounge, laptops balanced on toilet seats, laptops blocking every security checkpoint and gate. Laptops everywhere. They might as well glue them all together and use them as flooring — it will be easier and cheaper than storing them all in the lost property office, which by now must be the size of a hangar.

I'm not a scientist, so it would be foolish of me to criticise this study further. But I am foolish, so here goes. According to the report 40% of laptops are lost at security checkpoints, giving a monthly total of 20,000 that are somehow lost in the few seconds they spend inside an x-ray machine. Luckily, US airport security checkpoints are managed by a single organisation: the Transport Security Administration (TSA). A spokesman has stated that "On average, TSA receives approximately 75 lost or missing laptop claims each month, nationwide." That's 75 out of 20,000, apparently. So of all these travellers who nonchalantly dump their computers at security checkpoints, less than half of one percent of bother to try and get them back. Either that, or someone's numbers are looking a bit dodgy.

But let's be fair for a moment. Real airport security is fairly new to Americans; the TSA was only set up in response to 9/11. Before then, you could merrily dance through security checkpoints with pen knives, daggers and swords and the security personnel wouldn't bat an eyelid. Because they were asleep. And blind. And they passed away weeks ago. Hold baggage wasn't checked at all. Proper security checks make Americans nervous, and maybe, just maybe, they are so happy to get through them that the sacrifice of a laptop is a small price to pay.

Maybe.

Only kidding. Give yourself a big pat on the back for paying no attention. Bing is never going to get anywhere, because it has a bloody silly name.

Why is it called Bing anyway? Well, according to Microsoft, "bing!" is the winning noise evoked by a successful search. They optimistically call this "The Sound of Found". That's bollocks. Bing, dear reader, is the sound of:

Do you feel comfortable using one of these? BING!

Arrogance and Desperation

You arrive late at a hotel, tired and irritable, only to find the reception unmanned. You spy a domed brass reception bell. Unfortunately, these bells are loaded with images of lordship and servitude. What's more, you're not sure if anyone ever uses them or if they're just for show. Minutes pass while you stare at the bell, before you finally overcome the mental anguish and give it a good slap. BING! It's much louder than you expected. Also, the receptionist appears at exactly the same time and is now looking at you like you are a complete tosser.

Loneliness and Poverty

There's nothing worse than buying a stack of easy-cook meals-for-one. If you were buying only one you could add a four-pack of beer and joke with the checkout chick: "The missus is out tonight and I don't know how to work the cooker! What am I like, eh?" Laughs all round. But that doesn't get you the three-for-a-fiver special offer.

The fact is you have no-one waiting for you at home, not tonight. Not ever. When you buy your week's supply of ready meals, on the verge of tears, there's no witty banter. Just despair and pity. At home you use your twenty-year-old microwave to heat up the first plastic carton of slop. After four minutes, BING! It's done. Now you can cry into your volcanic spag bol and watch repeats of Friends.

Homo-erotic Confusion

Friends. If only.

Now, what was the name of the funny sarcastic one? Oh yes, Chandler. Chandler Bing. Prone to long man-hugs with room-mate Joey. Shy with the ladies. Not keen on sports. Loves musicals. Father's a drag queen. Yet, oddly, he married Monica Geller. You know, the bossy competitive one. Deep voice. Has a bit of a man-face. Argh! Chandler was clearly gay. But Chandler who? BING!

* * * * *

Thanks to all these great connotations, we will soon give up Googling and start Binging. Or Bunging. Maybe Bonging? No-one knows. If they've got any sense, no-one cares either.