Awareness for Etymotic, Part One: Registration and Installation

Concept: 0 out of 5
Execution: 0 out of 5
Yeah, but: I hope getting there isn't half the fun.

The Long Version: As a reviewer, there's a special place in my heart for companies and products that really piss me off. They have reviews that practically write themselves – and Etymotic, with their handling of Essency's "AWARENESS!® for Etymotic" iOS App, has joined this select group.

I very recently bought a pair of Etymotic's HF3 earphones, which is bundled with the downloadable "AWARENESS!® for Etymotic" iOS program by the UK developer Essency. Essentially, "AWARENESS!®" is a clever-sounding program that uses the built-in mic to monitor and optionally transmit ambient sounds. This isn't a review of the app, although that's coming up soon; a review of the earphones themselves may also eventually follow as well. For now I'm just looking at the post-purchase experience: going from the earphones' retail box to the point where the "AWARENESS!®" application is up and running.

There is also a paid "AWARENESS!®PRO" version that unlocks a few additional features. The upgrade process is straightforward, but I won't bother dealing with the anti-customer stupidity of charging $15 in the iTunes Store versus the $5 cost of upgrading through the application. I'll save that for part two.

"AWARENESS!® for Etymotic" requires an account that's created via the Etymotic website. It asks for an amazing amount of personal information, including an email address, phone number, and full mailing address. If something is omitted, don't expect it to be easy to figure out what it is – I'm hardly an idiot when it comes to this internet thing, and I lost track of the number of times I bumped into some unmarked mandatory field or missed a requirement. And incidentally, you also need to type in the UPC and the secret code that's printed on the top of the box. Awesome.

And the purpose of asking for all of this information is made perfectly clear: to create the account to register the product to be able to use the app, the lucky customer must select at least one of Ety's marketing "tell me more" checkboxes. And no, "none of the above" is not an option. Not only is that repugnantly disrespectful, I'll even bet that it's illegal in many jurisdictions.

Once you've pressed "submit" – to the invasion of privacy and blatant disregard of your wishes – you earn the ability to log in to their "free" app.

Download the app, click to log in, and it asks for a user name and password. Hold on – the password is what I laboriously created online, but there was no mention of what the user name will be. Is it my full name, which was a mandatory field? Perhaps it's the required e-mail address? Could it be something randomly generated and buried in the click-this-link verification email? I love guessing games.

I type something in and get an error message: unable to connect to network. Check your internet connection. That's not unreasonable; two bars are showing on my iPhone 4S, but I'm on the Rogers Wireless network in downtown Toronto, so failure is always an option. I move to a place with better reception and type in my first guess again. Same 'bad network' result. Now I have to consider that "AWARENESS!®" could just be an idiotic program, so I ignore the second warning and take another guess at what my user name might be. Third time lucky: now it thinks that the Internet connection is just fine and I'm in.

And no, I'm not going to spoil the surprise by saying what worked.

I'm sure someone will helpfully point out that I don't need to use the app, and that I could choose to ignore it and continue to exist in anonymity. If I did that then I would still resent Etymotic for having the audacity to ask such impertinent questions as a condition of deriving the advertised benefits of their product, but I would also feel like I'm being cheated out of some features that they promote as "included with purchase" simply because I won't accept their blatantly unreasonable terms. That's not an improvement.

What's more, the "AWARENESS!®" app is important enough to Etymotic that they heavily promote it. They market isolation as a unique product advantage for their earphones, which makes the features of the app seem useful and appealing: it's in their interest for me to want it, associate it with them, and like it. It's absolutely not in their interest for me to be so dissatisfied with the process that I investigate further and discover that Essency also markets a generic version that makes Etymotic's vaunted isolation seem much less remarkable, and come away feeling cheapened and deceived.

It takes an unconscionable amount of hubris for companies like Essency and Etymotic to demand personal information in this post-LulzSec era. Linkedin, eHarmony, and Last.fm all fell to hackers in the time that it took me to write this, but I'm supposed to trust that Essency's infrastructure and information is properly secured? Seriously? The etymotic.com/awareness/register page isn't even encrypted.

Do you follow the internet's best practices and use a unique and complex password for every little pissant product registration page? I certainly don't, and although I do try to limit the damage that can be done, it seems inevitable that these small fish are going to get fried.

I have to ask: is the risk to Etymotic and Essency of non-Etymotic-owners using the limited functions of the free app – or purchasing the $5 Etymotic version instead of the functionally identical $7 unbranded edition – so great that it's worth the liability and effort of having the registration process at all, let alone one so onerously-yet-ineffectually locked down? Is having my email address really worth what it costs?

While I'm yet to form an opinion of the application itself, I do wish that I had found the white-label version rather than following Etymotic's links. It seems to skip the registration step, and the extra couple of bucks seems like a small price to pay for avoiding all of this nonsense.

Even assuming that there is a valid reason for Etymotic and/or Essency to restrict the app via product registration, there's still no excuse for the information that they collect or the platform that they do it with. "AWARENESS!®" is already capable of accepting and confirming login information – asking instead for the UPC and box code, and skipping all of the privacy invasions and marketing hoop-jumping, would be just as (in)effective at keeping the undesirables out. Instead they choose to inflict this anti-customer bullshit on people who either already have or would otherwise like to give them money.

Etymotic, a company with a sterling reputation for sound, thinks that getting my information is so important that they're willing to make me hate them. And to what end? When I do receive their mandatory marketing material I guarantee that all it will do is remind me how much I resent them right now.

Today my earphones are shiny and new. I took the considerable effort to seek out this brand and model, and spent a big chunk of money to own them. This should be the peak of my post-purchase happiness. Instead this terrible software tie-in and registration has me writing a 1200-word rant about just how bad the experience was.

What a massive amount of hassle and effort for such a lousy reward.

last updated 7 june 2012

Opticianado

Concept: 4 out of 5
Execution: 5 out of 5
Yeah, but: I'm not that easy to impress.

The Long Version: Okay, I have to admit that I have a good reason to be biased. That doesn't change the fact that Opticianado, at 2919 Dundas West, is my new favourite place to buy glasses.

Opticianado's location puts it solidly in Toronto's west end, which is a slightly surreal place where the street numbers run backwards and Dundas is north of Bloor. It's in the Junction neighbourhood – my fellow east-enders can think of it as a more interesting version of Leslieville – where it fits in perfectly on a mixed commercial street with a refreshing lack of franchise stores. Sure, there is a Starbucks down the road for the people visiting the galleries and crafts stores, but we all need a balance.

I've worn glasses for almost twenty-five years, so I've visited a few opticians in my time. By selling a mix of new and vintage glasses, Opticianado has things that I've never seen before, along with some of my favourites. I was especially pleased to see that they sell Lindberg, which is what I had before my current set; these take lenses that are unusually hard to make, and make my current Oakley frames feel like cinder blocks. When the time comes to replace them, I know where I'll be going.

It also doesn't hurt that it's a ridiculously good-looking store.

But I didn't just stumble into Opticianado by accident as I visited a different part of the city. Penny had correctly answered a skill-testing question on Twitter, and won herself a new pair of sunglasses. And these were some serious glasses, too – quite a considerable prize. But… they just weren't quite right for her. Penny found a different pair that she preferred, and that was no problem at all.

The service and attention that we received was amazing. Even though we were being given an exceptionally good deal, everyone was enthusiastic, interested, and helpful – all things that I didn't experience when I last spent half-a-thousand dollars on prescription glasses elsewhere. That's a mistake that I don't plan on repeating.

last updated 4 dec 2010

The Decadent Chocolate Chip Cookie Vanilla Ice Cream Sandwiches

Concept: 4 out of 5
Execution: 3 out of 5
Yeah, but: Why was I surprised?

The Long Version: The "President's Choice" brand is one of the major successes of marketing. Dave Nichol made himself a household name and completely changed the perception of store-brand food, something that many companies have tried since but without being able to match Loblaw's resounding success. "PC" products now dominate their shelves, giving them both a huge differentiator and a major advantage when it comes to selecting the competitor's brands that they allow on their shelves.

PC products remain the only reason why I go out of my neighbourhood to reach a Loblaw supermarket. Their "Memories of" line has some excellent sauces and marinades, the the Memories of Montego Bay is my favourite Jerk sauce. (It's a pity that the mild version, "Vague Memories of Montego Bay", is no longer around.) And with the striking exception of the Chocolate Black Cherry Cola, I can't say that I've ever been disappointed by something that they put their name on.

But the cookies – ah, those cookies.

Calling a cookie "The Decadent Chocolate Chip" seems a little overblown, but they are good. One of the signature products of the President's Choice line, they've been around for a very long time. When Penny saw that there's a new ice cream sandwich version, they joined the list for our upcoming Canada Day party, where they'll socialize with dozens of PC hamburgers, chicken breasts, and a handful of tubs of President's Choice ice cream in interesting flavours. Good times.

But not all of the Decadent Chocolate Chip Ice Cream Sandwiches are making it to the party. I don't know why I was expecting something else, but these little 100mL sandwiches are two of the actual chocolate chip cookies, each facing out, with a thick slab of vanilla ice cream between them. The ice cream is good, too: it's a hard combination to get wrong, and they didn't.

There's a chocolate chunk cookie version with chocolate ice cream, as well – something else that may not make it to the party.

last updated 26 June 2011

Rowe Farms (Annex location)

Concept: 4 out of 5
Execution: 4 out of 5
Yeah, but: It's mainly because of the meat.

The Long Version: Rowe Farms is something of a contemporary butcher's shop, and reflects a move toward specialty retailing that targets customers who are seeking locally sourced and/or organic meats and produce. The Annex location at 468 Bloor West is a fairly new store, and it's a good fit in an area that already has a high concentration of health(y)-food stores. It replaces an organic fruit and vegetable seller that wasn't quite so successful, though, so nothing is guaranteed.

I've been a supermarket shopper all of my life, and there's nothing I like more than the "Freezer" section – growing up in the suburbs will do that to you. But Penny is more likely to shop at the specialty stores, such as Yorkville's Whole Foods, so when Rowe moved into the neighbourhood she was there to give it a try. She brought home some ground beef to make chili with, and even with all of the competing flavours and ingredients, the difference in quality and taste was inescapable.

I'm a little embarrassed now to admit that I used to just buy boxes of frozen steaks. They were convenient, I could get two month's worth at a time, and they were just as good as the unfrozen stuff at the local grocery store. I just didn't realize how low those standards are. I spend a bit more now – although see my two-year update below – but even without bringing in the personal issues of natural and/or local food, it tastes much better.

The big grocery stores are the prototype "Big Box" retailers – acres of parking lots spanning the suburbs to support massive stores that people go to because they have everything. But success in one extreme often creates a vacuum elsewhere, and Rowe Farms has local stores that really are worth an extra stop.

Updated two years later: Never ones to leave a new market uncontested once others have proved that it's viable, the big grocery stores in my area are now offering various meats that are intended to compete with the quality from specialty shops like Rowe Farms. This comes in various guises – free range, traditionally raised, hormone-free, homeschooled, and so on – and they're priced at a premium that makes Rowes' quite competitive. The product itself, however, simply isn't up to the same standard; it actually makes me a little sad to see what's being passed off these days. Rowe Farms remains my store of choice for evert product that they carry.

last updated 13 june 2013

Shopping with Apple

Concept: 3 out of 5
Execution: 1 out of 5
Yeah, but: It's so pretty.

The Long Version: It's hard to argue with success, and Apple has been so successful recently that it's turned Microsoft into an afterthought in a couple of huge markets. (Zune? WinPho7?) The mass appeal of its slick-and-shiny products is hard to deny; even in a mostly vacant mall of chain retail, the Apple Store invariably risks breaking the fire marshal's Maximum Occupancy restrictions. The stores' design reflects the aspirations of the company, with the current generation being even more clean and minimalist than the original "GapComputer" look. It's just unfortunate that this is far better in theory than in practice.

During slow times there's actually a chance of getting attention from the twenty-plus staff who are on the sales floor at any one time. They're helpful and fairly knowledgable, and the way they use wireless electronic payment terminals means that the whole transaction can happen without anything as unstylish as a cash register. Very slick. But without their time and attention, as a customer there's not much you can do.

I'm not a shopper, I'm a buyer. I like to walk into a store, find what I need, pay for it, and get out again as quickly as possible. This doesn't work in the Apple Store, because after I find what I'm looking for unaided, I'm stranded. There's no cashier, no line, nowhere to go next. Sleek and stylish turns into isolated and ineffectual. My only relief is that their system has broken down so thoroughly at the Toronto Eaton Centre location that one corner of the "Genius Bar" has become a semi-permanent cashier's desk, but there's still nothing to indicate this to the uninitiated, and people waiting to pay are intermixed with those who are waiting for an opening for tech support.

What really made Apple different way back then – I've been owning and using Apple computers since the mid-80's – is the idea that if the person can't get the computer to do something, it's the computer that's at fault, not the person. So why is it that when I go into an Apple retail store, I often leave frustrated and feeling that I must be an idiot for shopping there?

Internet shopping was invented for people who want to shop without the whole human interaction thing, but my recent experience with the online store was no better. When making an online-only Apple purchase – which I've used to create this whole review – I saw that expedited shipping would cost only a modest amount more than the standard service. I checked their shipping policies, where it clearly says that shipping for Canada (and the US) is handled by FedEx. Seventeen dollars for FedEx is a non-decision, so I went ahead with it. Sure enough, when I get the tracking information sent to me six hours later, it's an unmistakable number from UPS.

For reasons varied, personal, and deeply entrenched, I would happy pay an extra seventeen dollars to have something not ship with UPS. So I looked for the customer support e-mail address to vent a little tiny bit, and the only contact option turns out to be a toll-free phone number. That's not the same thing at all: if I'm going to take the time to register a complaint that's not going to go anywhere, I'd really prefer to put it in writing.

While I like Apple's products, I'm not nearly convinced that they're the best place to buy their own products from. When I have a choice, the local non-branded computer store and the big-box store are both higher on my list of places to shop. There's something to be said for supporting the people who are easier to deal with, even if their stores aren't as pretty.

last updated 9 mar 2011

Gordy's Camera Straps

Concept: 3 out of 5
Execution: 3 out of 5
Yeah, but: Is this whole review just an excuse for camera bondage pr0n?

The Long Version: I've always been a bit particular - peculiar? - about how I carry my cameras. I almost always prefer wrist straps, finding it both easier and safer to hand-carry a camera and heavy lens instead of slinging it from a neck strap. And since most commercial wrist straps are either little stringy things with quick-releases for P/S digicams, or made with uber-wide webbing that looks like it wants to be a neoprene cuff bracelet, I've always wound up making them myself from various lengths of cord. They work well, but they look as cheap as they are.

Enter Gordy's Camera Straps.

Gordy's straps are hand-made of quarter-inch leather with waxed polyester binding, and there are four leather colours and ten choices of wrapping cord. If there's more than one piece of material involved, then the colours can be picked individually. There are two main attachment methods, either a string that won't wear down the camera's finish, or a split-ring ('lug') attachment that can use different types of camera-protecing 'bumpers'. The photo above shows the Integral bumper; there are both leather and rubber options that aren't built-in but provide more protection. There's also a tripod-mount attachment for a sling-style strap and a tripod-and-lug vertical attachment, which hangs the camera vertically and looks very cool for rangefinders with an offset tripod mount. Going through Gordy's web site is fun and easy.

The first strap I ordered is a black wrist strap with a black string attachment and red wrapping cord. The leather is fairly stiff right out of the envelope - worldwide shipping is included in the website's prices - but works in nicely. However, it's never going to be as supple as the attachment string, so that's where the flex and movement comes in. As I see it, there are two big advantages to the string: it can't damage the camera's finish, and it makes the strap very thin where it attaches to the camera. For bigger bodies with attachment lugs at the top, like Canon's SLRs and many Nikons, this doesn't matter much. For others, especially ones with smaller bodies and lower lugs, a thick strap will interfere with the grip of a normal human. Panasonic's GH1 almost falls into this camp, and the modern-classic Zeiss Ikon rangefinder is hopeless.

I've used my Ikon with the string wrist strap, but the absence of a protruding grip makes it hard to hand-carry for any length of time. So once I'd seen the quality of Gordy's work, I ordered a single split-ring neck strap with a nearly Zeiss-blue wrapping cord. I was really tempted by the lug-and-tripod vertical design, but since it wouldn't let the camera sit upright, I decided to pass on it no matter how appealing it might seem. The other concern that I had is related to the thickness of the leather at the attachment point, and as I suspected it's too much to let me attach the strap to the right side of the camera. Putting it on the left side solves that particular issue, with an added benefit as well. When I don't want to carry the Ikon over my neck or shoulder, I simply use the strap as a long tether to my right wrist. The rubber O-ring lets me snug it up nicely and makes it perfectly secure. I used to carry the GH1 the same way - on a long shoelace - simply because it keeps the wrist strap from falling across the viewfinder/LCD when I'm using the 'portrait' orientation. Since I still prefer to hand-carry the Ikon when I'm actively using it, the single attachment point absolutely perfect.

Despite the name, I'll almost never put a neck strap around my neck. Our necks aren't really designed to carry heavy weights, and let's face it: a camera looks kind of foolish bouncing off of decidedly non-washboard abs. The moderately rough inner surface of the leather makes it too grippy to sling the camera diagonally, but in exchange the strap does stay where I put it reasonably well. When I'm working with a second camera - typically a digital one that's doing the scouting - my favourite way to carry the Ikon is from my left shoulder, and with the rubber o-ring stopper tightened up it's very secure. I can practically do a callisthenics routine with it carried that way, and when the camera does start to slip a bit, it's close at hand to re-snug.

The length of the straps isn't adjustable - except for one neck strap design - but it can be chosen either from a couple of options (wrist strap) or specified to whatever length you like (neck strap). I have the standard-sized wrist strap and a 45" neck strap, and have been happy with both. I have complete confidence in their strength, and had no problem letting my brand-new Zeiss Ikon dangle from my wrist when it came time to dig out a new roll of film. I will concede that I haven't been using them for very long - expect an update in a few months - but I'm much happier with them than any commercial strap that I've used. Gordy's straps may not have a Billingham-level fit and finish, but they don't have the Artisan and Artist price burden either. I'm a fan of the hand-crafted aesthetic, and really enjoy the personality that they bring to these machines.

There may even be a third one in my future.

Elsewhere on the Web: The Polished Penny on Etsy

The Long Version: My favourite client, The Polished Penny, has recently opened a shop on Etsy. For those unfamiliar with the site, it's a marketplace for all sorts of things handmade. It has occasionally been compared to eBay without the auction clock, but I think of it as the Flickr of product photography. Penny specializes in silver earrings and pendants; as a photographer, I'm always impressed by her ability to create something entirely from raw materials.

The photography that I've done for The Polished Penny spans a healthy range of time and techniques. The image above was shot with a D700 and strobes, which lets me keep decent depth of field while working hand-held for a variety of angles and options. Other times I'll work with natural light with the camera on a tripod, typically with my GH1 for the greater convenience of the flip-out screen. There'll always be more jewellery and more photos, so check it out from time to time.

Method Laundry Detergent

Concept: 4 out of 5
Execution: 3 out of 5
Yeah, but: It's hard make money from affection alone.

The Long Version: Method Laundry Detergent (manf) is one of those instances where the the great idea doesn't depend on the product. What they've done is get rid of the screw-top and cap, and replaced it with a pump that puts out a metered amount of detergent. It didn't go over that well for toothpaste, but it works for laundry soap.

There's an interesting phrase floating around. At the time of writing, Google was returning 112 hits from an exact match search for the phrase: "As highlighted in a recent Wall Street Journal article, Americans continue to overuse laundry detergent." (That article, almost never properly cited, is here.) The tendency for pouring detergent is to use too much, either by over-filling the deceptively large cap-cups or by pouring it directly into the machine. Highly concentrated detergents just make matters worse, since a little bit too much is a lot more than anyone really needs.

While there's nothing stopping the detergent makers from putting pumps on huge half-gallon bottles, Method's using it on a detergent that's so heavily concentrated that they recommend using only four pumps per load. That makes it practical, since the little 300ml bottle is easy to handle but is still rated for 25 loads. Doing the math, that works out to less than a tablespoon each - not nearly enough to be psychologically satisfying when poured, but the little pump makes it alright. And that amount is what the swimming-pool sized top-load washers need; front-load washers use far less water and need far less detergent. My Asko washer-dryer might be a dog, but I've been very happy with only one pump per load.

Another interesting little tidbit from the WSJ article can be found at the end: "Seventh Generation's co-founder, Jeffrey Hollender, wonders why more people haven't stumbled upon laundry's big, dirty secret: "You don't even need soap to wash most loads," he says. The agitation of washing machines often does the job on its own." It's a good question, but I've never felt the desire to test it. I'll just continue to use a tiny little bit of the Method detergent instead.

Buying a Second Monitor

Concept: 3 out of 5
Execution: 1 out of 5
Yeah, but: It's not the getting, it's the having.

The Long Version: I still remember when having a monochrome monitor that was green and yellow was the height of cool, and I still enjoy the computer games that I played on my Commodore 64 and Mac Classic. I'm hardly cutting edge; in fact, I'm of the "never too late to have a happy childhood" school. And in this case, I have a long-held envy of a friend's wicked-fast Mac IIfx that was running dual monitors. Yes, I know that my mid-2007 iMac with its 24" screen completely stomps that historical footnote, with power and pixels that are straight out of science fiction. I've still wanted a second monitor for many years.

I'd find myself standing in front of the displays in the happiest place on earth, trying to decide if I had enough room on my desk for a new toy. Invariably, I'd decide that I didn't know enough to make a good monitor choice, and would wander back to the flash drives and paper shredders. (Look for reviews of those soon as well.) The final straw was when I found some really good 'boxing day' deals on a local store's website. I started researching a few models, and that's where the trouble really started.

I'm a reasonably technical person. I know what Linux is, worked for a couple of IT companies, and enjoy finding highly complex solutions to simple problems. Within photography, I'm swimming in a sea of technical information, and even though much of it is meaningless and/or hype - Samsung calls the processor in its newest cameras "DRI Me II Pro", I kid you not - an abundance of information is out there. DPReview takes 27 pages to discuss the merits and shortcomings of the model bump of the model bump of the entry-level Nikon D40 - one of the most straightforward cameras on the market. People who think a lot about buying cameras truly did wring their hands over the Canon 50D dropping to 6.3 frames per second from the 6.6 of the 40D, and the image-quality ramifications of more megapixels. Photographic technophiles could even make the overclocking quake-benchmark-addicted slashdotter shout: "17'5 1RR3L3\/4|\|7, dUD35!". Eris knows I've come close to losing it a time or two myself.

Shopping for an LCD monitor was like hitting a wall, except that the wall is solid, impenetrable NOTHING.

Forget about trying to learn the differences between TN, IPS, and PVA technologies. The manufacturers websites wouldn't even tell me if the panels were glossy or matte. I abandoned one possible purchase after fifteen minutes of hunting for information because of a minor aside in a user review. It mentioned that not only was the height not adjustable, the panel didn't even tilt. Isn't that worth mentioning on the products' web page? It should probably be right under the note: "May Not Be Suitable For Normal Use". Perhaps my frustration is because I was mostly looking at Samsung, as I have found more useful manufacturers, but it should never have been this difficult. The best source of information, virtually by default, were the single-paragraph "I bought it and it's the most awesome / it broke and sucks in every possible way" tragicomedy of aggregated user reviews. Trying to find a decent screen was the most frustrating thing I've done since choosing a cell phone plan.

I did eventually find an affordable matte-screen PVA monitor that tilts and swivels. (Model "F2380".) Its image quality, in terms of sharpness, contrast, and nuance, isn't a match my iMac; and I've yet to be able to calibrate it to get rid of a cool shift to its mid-tones. I actually expected that last part because of something I read somewhere, and partially expected the other attributes because of my price range. The aesthetic of the display is greatly improved by some black electrical tape to get rid of a cosmetic light that flashes obnoxiously when there's no input signal. And maybe it's just me, but for some reason it doesn't use a half-inch of its screen when it's horizontal, but uses it all when it's vertical. Such is life. At least it tilts.

Since it's not good enough to be my reference screen, I've discovered that I prefer it set vertically. It takes up less room on my desk, which is no small mercy, but it's also a useful way to work. For Lightroom, I typically keep the second screen in Grid view, which speeds my sorting and ranking immeasurably. In Survey mode (top photo) it gives jumbo previews of two horizontal images, and in Loupe mode it lets me see a vertical image in all its glory. For Final Cut, it lets me mix ten stereo audio tracks in the timeline viewer without reducing the other windows to nothing (second photo), and the custom configurations can be quickly flipped to put the Viewer in the main window and still have lots of room to work. Even Spaceward Ho!, which I first played on a 9" screen, benefits from the tall arrangement. After only a week, I know I'd suffer if I had to give it up.

Mac IIfx, eat your heart out.

B&H Summer 2009 Catalog

Concept: 3 out of 5
Execution: 2 out of 5
Yeah, but: It's free p0rn - who says no to that?

The Long Version: B&H Photo puts out its catalog twice a year, and it's 450+ pages of optics, electronics, and other goodies. It spans a huge range of products, from home theater A/V gear to lame iPod knock-offs called the "Zune". While I certainly like looking through the camera gear, it's actually the pro audio and video section that I really enjoy. Some of that stuff is so expensive that it makes my still cameras and lenses seem quite reasonable.

The catalog has other bright spots, as well. Its cover earned a place on the Photoshop Disasters website, but there are also some gems inside. The description of the Nikon F100 boasts about its "balanced bill-blash," and the photo for the Olympus FE-3010 looks suspiciously like the Nikon P90. But it hardly matters; the FE3010 has already dropped by about $25 from its listed price, and it's on the cusp of being discontinued and out of stock. I can certainly appreciate the difficulty and futility of writing and proofing the blather for the hundreds of interchangeable products that won't last longer than it will take the paper to biodegrade - but it's still funny.

The printed catalog is the exact opposite of a website. It's hard to find specific things, it's outdated almost immediately, and it costs a lot to distribute. But it's also easy to flip through. A website provides a specific answer if you already know the question; a catalog might be archaic, but it's the best way to find randomly interesting things. I wouldn't pay to buy one, but it's entertaining, educational, and I usually wear out the old copy by the time the next one arrives.

Buying A Bike Online

Concept: 2 out of 5
Execution: 4 out of 5
Yeah, but: Who needs a test ride?

The Long Version: I hate shopping, but I like buying, and enjoy doing research. Going into a store and being lost and uncertain bothers me - it makes me feel lost and uncertain. But in this brave electronic internet world, there's lots of information and options available, and I feel right at home with it.

Buying a bike is always an interesting experience. My first bike (as an adult capable of making purchasing decisions) was picked out of a lineup at a manufacturers warehouse sale. I knew nothing about it, but it turned out pretty well. It was a mountain bike, pre-suspension era, and it was blue. After some time, I decided to get more serious, and bought an exotic road bike. I lusted after it for months before I bought it, and although I flirted with a couple of others and went on some test-rides, my original this-is-better obsession held firm. It was a great bike, too. It was heavier than comparably priced road bikes, but had full suspension, and riding it felt more like flying. The only place where you'd be likely to see one is at a triathlon, and even there they were serious machines. They're even more exotic now, since the company now only makes bike racks, so so much for that.

It's been many years since I've actually ridden a bike, and a year since I finally sold my old racer. Cycling had stopped being fun; the skinny road bike needed the fancy shoes and wardrobe, which turned transportation into a special event, and the mountain bike somehow never took back its primary role. I was obsessed with being Serious and somehow, even when I realized that the mountain bike was just more fun, it wasn't enough. And getting bikes in and out of the house / up the stairs / on and off an elevator was just a hassle, and then where do I store the thing?

Now I've had several changes that put me into a better frame of mind. I've stopped taking myself seriously, and learned to slow down and be less competitive overall. (Riding a scooter is good for that.) I'm happier and spend less time working, have tremendous support at home, and live in a much more bike-friendly area. And with the BMI steadily trending upward, it was time to get back into the only physical activity that I actually like. It was time to have a bike again.

Shopping for a bike took weeks of varying levels of intensity. Sometimes I was just idly thinking about it, other times I was staying up late to read just a few more reviews. What I was looking for was a bike with small wheels, making it easier to use the elevators and navigate halls and doors. Folding is an asset - and practically assured with the 20" wheels - but I just want one that can be folded for winter storage, not necessarily the ability to hop on and off crowded trains or take it into stores on errand runs. Fenders and a rack are a hassle for small wheels, so having them included with the bike is a bonus. Suspension makes life more pleasant, and I want decent tires that can take a pothole or two. Riding my Xootr scooter needs constant vigilance to avoid pebbles, twigs, and cracks in the sidewalk, so I really want a bike that doesn't have racer-skinny sneakers. There are also some hard-packed dirt trails nearby, so some off-road versatility is also on my list.

Research on the internet is a funny thing. Manufacturers sites are great for specifications and publicity photos, but they're low on real-world perspective. Consumer aggregate sites, with their pro-con lists and star ratings, encourage short-form reaction but there's not enough room to develop a narrative. The source I found most useful are the blogs where people write about their own stuff. That's actually a little scary, because I know someone who writes one of those, and it just shows me that anyone can be an authority. So as with everything, it's reader beware, and just because Google ranks it on the first page doesn't mean it's been peer-reviewed. But with that in mind, there's a lot of good stuff out there, and I've enjoyed being the reader for a change.

At various points I had decided for certain on four different bikes. I've liberated their publicity photos to create the nightmare of a mashup that forms the illustration for this review. There's a Dahon, which contributes the front wheel, fork, and fender; a Bike Friday, which provides the seat, seatpost, handlebars, and steeting column; a Xootr, which is the main frame; and an Airnimal for the rear triangle, drivetrain, and suspension. These bikes are all folding designs with 20" wheels, three of them have (or offer) some sort of suspension, and three of them are essentially internet-only in Canada. The Dahon is the cheapest of the four by a good margin, is available locally, and there's lots of them on the streets. Naturally, it's not the one I chose.

Eventually it came down to two bikes. They're pretty comparable: neither is exactly perfect, but I could flip a coin and be happy with either one. The deciding factor turned out to be customer service. One would have to be ordered through my local bike store, and they must be too busy to have been able to answer either of the price/availability e-mails that I sent them over the past ten days. The other brand was orderable straight from the manufacturer, and after a very quick e-mail exchange to sort out the shipping options and a small amount of customization, it was done. My shipping notification from the carrier was sent less than five hours after I placed the order.

I'm not actually going to say which one I picked, because that's not really the point. It will be reviewed here sooner or later, along with a host of other cycling-related stuff. The purpose of this article is really to consider the process. This is the second bike that I bought after extensive internet research, and the second bike that I've bought without any test-rides, but it's the first time I've done both of those together and bought one that I've never even seen in person. Obviously, if I was a Serious Cyclist I wouldn't be doing this, just like if I was a Serious Audiophile I wouldn't have bought my speakers (An SVS subwoofer and pair of Kef XQ1's) off of the Internet without ever hearing them. I'm not looking for custom or cutting-edge, but I'm also not willing to walk into the store and take what the salesperson wants to sell me. Finding information from a wide variety of sources has never been easier, and with some good insight the inconsistencies can usually be sorted out. I haven't been burned so far, and shopping on the internet is almost a hobby in itself.

In a week or two, I'll be able to say whether I'd do it this way again.

The iSlice­

Concept: 3 out of 5
Execution: 4 out of 5
Yeah, but: It works as advertised, and that makes me suspicious

The Long Version: Another Christmas gift that, much like the previously reviewed Open It! household multi-tool, actually works and is worth the price.
I know, I was surprised, too.

But this little gadget really does slice open envelopes and all types of consumer packaging, with no danger of drawing blood.
Perfect for the clumsy people on your gift list.
It's ceramic blade is as sharp as an ExActo knife, but for some reason won't cut skin. I suppose if you really tried you might manage some damage but in my casual testing it's been safe.

The iSlice retails around here for $5US and I have to think that's a fair price.
Especially since the designers went the extra mile and made it harder to lose in a drawer by making the metal point magnetic.
Although shown stuck to our refrigerator (with the crooked logo and Liberace) I keep mine stuck to my desk lamp for instant grab & slice action.

The name bothers me because it's yet another example of the mindless marketing people that ape the latest craze--in this case iPods.
I'm surprised there isn't a toilet tissue called iWipe.
A few years ago everything was Mywhatever due to the MySpace phenomenon.
And in the USA, every political scandal gets the word gate tacked-on the end after the infamous Watergate break-ins of the 1970s.
Travelgate?
Noooo, 'gate' was part of the name of the Watergate hotel, not a suffix that means scandal.
Journalists are a big disappointment because it appears they don't think for themselves. Failed ad copy writers perhaps?

But I digress.

The iSlice works, makes a nice little gift, and is worth the price.
It uses modern ceramic blade technology so supposedly the edge won't get dull.
Today I used it to slice open the plastic wrap on a roll of paper towels and it did the job without cutting into the product, which was a pleasant surprise.
With envelopes I have managed to cut through the first layer of paper inside, but then I don't get much mail and use a switchblade as a letter opener anyway.

I would probably never buy something like this for myself, but having received it as a gift find that I use it often and am impressed every time.

Used Computer Parts

Concept: 4 out of 5
Execution: 3 out of 5
Yeah, but: Your mileage will vary depending on the quality of your neighbor's cast-offs

The Long Version:
I was feeling guilty that my girlfriend's computer monitor was a tiny and very old 15" CRT that was blurry and had both ghosting and burned-in areas.
How can you truly enjoy People.com when the photos are small and nasty, and the type isn't sharp?

Pricing LCD replacements gave me a case of sticker-shock, especially since I use my computer 10 times more than she uses hers, and do a lot of critical PhotoShop work that deserves a better display than I've been using.
But do I get myself a new one and then make her suffer with my hand-me-down screen?
No, that just doesn't seem right.

Recently I stopped into the computer repair and parts store around the corner to check for good deals on games and random hardware, and the used monitor section caught my attention. There were a few 17" Dell CRTs for the yard sale price of $9.99, so I figured that even with the No Returns, No Refunds stipulation it was worth a gamble.
The owner hooked my choice up to his system and let me see a very uninspiring and unhelpful desktop photo with some icons for type sharpness, but the monitor was operating fine and it just had to be an improvement, so I took the chance.

Got it home, hooked it up, did some minimal calibration with grayscale and color test images, then a little fine-tuning using my own photos. Took a shower while letting it warm-up some more, then did some additional calibrating.

The Result?
Looked so much better than the monitor I'm used to that I got really jealous, and went back a few hours later for my own awesome $10 Dell.
Had to reject two during in-store testing, but the one I eventually bought is every bit as nice as the first. A few minutes spent getting the black and white points set, then tweaking the image placement within the screen, and I could not be happier.

I would estimate that our old monitors were a 5 and a 3, while the new-to-us ones are a nine and a 9.5
This was a serious upgrade at a laughable price.
You can have your expensive LCD displays--I'm more than willing to live with bulky and hot CRTs for a few more years when the image quality approaches perfection and so does the price.
This was a steal, twice!
19 inch are around $30 in several local shops, so I may be going bigger soon.


No picture accompanies this review because there is simply no practical way to convey the quality improvement between computer monitors in a digital photograph; much like there's no way to convey the reality of a fine art print over the internet, you have to experience it for yourself.
The rare and delightful unphotographable subject.

United Parcel Service

Concept: 4 out of 5
Execution: 1 out of 5
Yeah, but: Brown can sync the world of business.


The Long Version: When I'm shopping on-line, it means that I can't find what I want locally. And if I'm getting a shipment from UPS, it means that I couldn't find any other method of delivery.


UPS might be an excellent service within the United States. I wouldn't really know, except that the only time I've received a package from them in the USA they just left it on the front porch. And maybe they treat business customers better than residential addresses. I don't really know about that, either, since in the many years that I've worked in shipping and receiving no company that I've worked for would use them. But I have met a couple of their drivers who were decent and helpful people, so that was a positive experience.


The last package I received was the Ergo Pin for my scooter. I missed the first delivery attempt: something to do with the need to work for a living. Fortunately UPS had already already missed their initial delivery date, making the second attempt land on a day that I already had off. So I waited at home the next day to make sure that I didn't miss it again.


Hours pass.


Hours more pass.


Eventually, around 1:30pm, my partner comes home from an enjoyable time out that I've missed while waiting at home. As a consolation prize, she handed me another "failed delivery attempt" notification. This one had both the "second attempt" and "final attempt" boxes checked.


Phone calls ensued.


The first CSR I spoke to suggested that the package was undeliverable because my buzzer code wasn't included in the address -- I asked if it was UPS policy to have their drivers walk into the lobby, shrug their shoulders, and leave again. The gentleman on the phone suggested that it wasn't. I then went through several sets of options. The CSRs that I spoke to initially told me that because it was so late in the day, there was no way a re-delivery attempt could be made. (I took some issue with the implication that any attempt worth the word had been made.) I could arrange another delivery attempt for the next time I was able to wait at home all day. Apparently 'the driver was in error' when he checked both second and final boxes, and they could try again. Alternatively, I could take an entire day to travel across the city to pick the package up myself, and save myself the suspense of waiting at home.


Neither option was particularly enticing, as both meant that I would need to wait a week. I continued to request another delivery attempt, and was eventually called by one of the CSRs I had been speaking to to tell me that the driver was on his way back.


Remember the lobby-and-shrug theory that I had? It turned out that the driver had used the first entry code that matched my last name -- not the one that matched my initial as well. He was apologetic, and what could I say? Not only did I get my package, I got an afternoon's entertainment out of it as well. Odds are that it will never happen again, because there's almost always someone else out there who will ship via FedEx or regular mail.


At least there was no "brokerage" fee on this one.