I'm not going to pretend to review the non-existent iPad that I'm holding, but I have to register my surprise at Apple's naming faux pas. Seriously, did they not conduct any focus group testing? Perhaps there are no women who work at Apple?
If you did a quickfire word association game in a roomful of women between the ages of 18 and 50, you'd find out pretty soon that the iPad is a feminine hygiene product with a touch screen. I'm not the first to point this out . . . yesterday, iTampax was a Twittering trending topic, plus there's already a plethora of jokes and spoof ads online at Apple's expense.
I just finished reading David Ogilvy's "Confessions of an Advertising Man" and a point he discussed is particularly apt in this instance:
"Perhaps the most important operation agencies are ever called upon to perform is to prepare a campaign for a new product which (sic) has not yet emerged from the laboratory. . .
. . . As I write I am engaged in just such an operation. It has taken more than a hundred scientists two years to find out how to make the product in question; I have been given thirty days to create its personality and plan its launching. . .
. . . It they would just invest half as much in the creative work of launching new products as they invest in the technical work of developing them, they would see fewer of their conceptions abort."
This kind of reminds me of the Chevy Nova (in Spanish = doesn't go) and the Ford Penis, I mean Pinto, (in Brazilian Portuguese slang = small penis) . . . but at least these names worked in one culture. The trouble with the iPad is that it fails at the first hurdle. Will it be an iFlop?
Friday, January 29, 2010
Saturday, January 9, 2010
So long egreetings, I barely cared for you
It's come to my attention that my mailbox is no longer filled with those slightly underwhelming egreetings I used to receive back in the early part of the new millennium.
Not that I mind. I found those missives via email link slightly disappointing. Nothing says, "I nearly forgot your birthday" or "I can't be bothered to write with a pen" like a hasty ecard.
There's a singular tepidness of feeling when you send something that's really just clip art and a few data fields. And on my part, the sentiment is reciprocated with a cursory click, skim, delete, often without clicking on the actual link to the card.
I'll come clean - I've sent ecards. I like to think that my selection was usually superior to most, speed-chosen witty cartoons from the New Yorker expressing slight disengagement.
But of late, I've noticed the decline of the ecard. They are going the way of the free t-shirts you got when an old-line organization first launched their websites [the t-shirts inevitably featured their crusty old logo with ".com" in Courier].
Struck by a last-minute greeting emergency recently, I found many of my old go-to websites no longer helpfully offer the service of a branded card. I also observed - gasp! - some sites are starting to charge for customized artwork.
And when I send an ecard, there's the added anxiety that my greeting will be the subject of suspicion, filed under "phishing," "spam" or "the sort of email that falls between blanket group emails and forwarded jokes."
The ecard's had a short life. It began at MIT, created by Judith Donath in 1994 as "the Electric Postcard." The project launched December 1994, and a year later, about three-quarters of a million cards had been sent; six months after, it was close to 1.7 million. During the 1995-96 Christmas season, there were days when over 19,000 cards were sent.
Fast forward to modern times, and according to the Greeting Card Association "Worldwide, an estimated 500 million e-cards are sent each year."
Here's what Donath says about the project in her thesis:
"The most significant function of the postcard, and the reason, I believe, for the great popularity of The Electric Postcard, is that they allow people to keep in touch without having to actually say anything.
A notable thing about postcards is how trite the messages often are: ``The weather is great. Wish you were here.'' A letter like that would be ludicrous, even rude. Yet the main point of a postcard is its subtext: I'm thinking of you, just checking in, making the rounds remotely."
[my bold for emphasis]
Egreetings left the lab in 1995 when E-cards.com was launched (the code was open source), and graduated to solids in October 1999, when Excite@Home bought the web site Blue Mountain Arts for $780M. On September 13, 2001, Excite@Home sold BlueMountain.com to American Greetings for $35M, three weeks before it filed for bankruptcy and the sound of "pop" could be heard coming from the dot com bubble.
BlueMountain.com is still around, making it "easy and fun to stay in touch with all the special people" in my life with one easy subscription. Unfortunately, I'm looking to "occasionally touch base with acquaintances," so I don't think it's the service for me.
Donath reflects that, "The Electric Postcard lets the user send a piece of the Web as a personal statement . . . the postcards make the information space into a source for personal expression."
So what does that say about me, the lethargic egreeter? I've moved on, the information space has shifted and I'm expressing myself in other ways. Nah, just a bad correspondent.
Not that I mind. I found those missives via email link slightly disappointing. Nothing says, "I nearly forgot your birthday" or "I can't be bothered to write with a pen" like a hasty ecard.
There's a singular tepidness of feeling when you send something that's really just clip art and a few data fields. And on my part, the sentiment is reciprocated with a cursory click, skim, delete, often without clicking on the actual link to the card.
I'll come clean - I've sent ecards. I like to think that my selection was usually superior to most, speed-chosen witty cartoons from the New Yorker expressing slight disengagement.
But of late, I've noticed the decline of the ecard. They are going the way of the free t-shirts you got when an old-line organization first launched their websites [the t-shirts inevitably featured their crusty old logo with ".com" in Courier].
Struck by a last-minute greeting emergency recently, I found many of my old go-to websites no longer helpfully offer the service of a branded card. I also observed - gasp! - some sites are starting to charge for customized artwork.
And when I send an ecard, there's the added anxiety that my greeting will be the subject of suspicion, filed under "phishing," "spam" or "the sort of email that falls between blanket group emails and forwarded jokes."
The ecard's had a short life. It began at MIT, created by Judith Donath in 1994 as "the Electric Postcard." The project launched December 1994, and a year later, about three-quarters of a million cards had been sent; six months after, it was close to 1.7 million. During the 1995-96 Christmas season, there were days when over 19,000 cards were sent.
Fast forward to modern times, and according to the Greeting Card Association "Worldwide, an estimated 500 million e-cards are sent each year."
Here's what Donath says about the project in her thesis:
"The most significant function of the postcard, and the reason, I believe, for the great popularity of The Electric Postcard, is that they allow people to keep in touch without having to actually say anything.
A notable thing about postcards is how trite the messages often are: ``The weather is great. Wish you were here.'' A letter like that would be ludicrous, even rude. Yet the main point of a postcard is its subtext: I'm thinking of you, just checking in, making the rounds remotely."
[my bold for emphasis]
Egreetings left the lab in 1995 when E-cards.com was launched (the code was open source), and graduated to solids in October 1999, when Excite@Home bought the web site Blue Mountain Arts for $780M. On September 13, 2001, Excite@Home sold BlueMountain.com to American Greetings for $35M, three weeks before it filed for bankruptcy and the sound of "pop" could be heard coming from the dot com bubble.
BlueMountain.com is still around, making it "easy and fun to stay in touch with all the special people" in my life with one easy subscription. Unfortunately, I'm looking to "occasionally touch base with acquaintances," so I don't think it's the service for me.
Donath reflects that, "The Electric Postcard lets the user send a piece of the Web as a personal statement . . . the postcards make the information space into a source for personal expression."
So what does that say about me, the lethargic egreeter? I've moved on, the information space has shifted and I'm expressing myself in other ways. Nah, just a bad correspondent.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
C'mon . . . meta me
About 10 years ago, I was at a design conference in Aspen (harsh, I know), when Razorfish-founder-turned-candy-designer Craig Kanarick gave a presentation on digital design. He wore a gold lurex jacket and strode around the stage telling the less digitally savvy audience how digitally savvy Razorfish was. To be fair, he made a lot more sense than architects Zaha Hadid and Hani Rashid, who were also on the schedule. They showed impenetrable sketches of buildings they designed using a computer, which only a computer could occupy.
One thing Kanarick said has really stuck with me. It's really simple, but really true. Back in 1999, Kanarick, with his bleached hair and flashy jacket, said that Razorfish's guiding principle was simply, "anything that can be digital, will be."
At the time, my reaction was, sure it's easy to say that. Photos, music, film, documents, everything could be digital. I got it. Flip open the scanner, or type into a computer and put it on the web. But I think he was getting at more than the process of taking analog information and making it digital. I think he was talking about anything, I mean anything, being digital.
In the decade since, I have become a digital commodity.
By this I mean, I obviously exist in a flesh-and-blood way, but I increasingly exist in a digital hyper-reality. Through social networking sites I've become an online persona, a digital nexus of old friends and contemporary connections, overlaid by a web of familial linkages. Socially connected me represents past, present, and potential future.
With Second Life, I'm my avatar, whoever I want to be. I can live in a tower of crystals, half medieval castle, half Greek forum; I can have red hair, wear sexy pirate clothes and shop for a pair of wings. Now that's better than a real life trip to the grocery store, now isn't it?
To data mining companies, I'm a pattern of data points. If I were 20 years younger, and texting as fast as my hormones were racing, I'd be Text Me, a collection of messages, reduced to diminutive shorthand. LOL. WTF.
So what's the logical conclusion? Where does it all end? At what point does the psychic apparatus resist the urge to exist in external data form? Will we tire of the technology? Will we want to reclaim some of our internal life? Will privacy become our most valued asset?
Who knows? I'm blogging about this, sending links to Facebook and Twitter, and hoping that someone will read this because, "In the construction of Immortal Fame you need first of all a cosmic shamelessness."*
*Umberto Eco, Travels in Hyperreality
One thing Kanarick said has really stuck with me. It's really simple, but really true. Back in 1999, Kanarick, with his bleached hair and flashy jacket, said that Razorfish's guiding principle was simply, "anything that can be digital, will be."
At the time, my reaction was, sure it's easy to say that. Photos, music, film, documents, everything could be digital. I got it. Flip open the scanner, or type into a computer and put it on the web. But I think he was getting at more than the process of taking analog information and making it digital. I think he was talking about anything, I mean anything, being digital.
In the decade since, I have become a digital commodity.
By this I mean, I obviously exist in a flesh-and-blood way, but I increasingly exist in a digital hyper-reality. Through social networking sites I've become an online persona, a digital nexus of old friends and contemporary connections, overlaid by a web of familial linkages. Socially connected me represents past, present, and potential future.
With Second Life, I'm my avatar, whoever I want to be. I can live in a tower of crystals, half medieval castle, half Greek forum; I can have red hair, wear sexy pirate clothes and shop for a pair of wings. Now that's better than a real life trip to the grocery store, now isn't it?
To data mining companies, I'm a pattern of data points. If I were 20 years younger, and texting as fast as my hormones were racing, I'd be Text Me, a collection of messages, reduced to diminutive shorthand. LOL. WTF.
So what's the logical conclusion? Where does it all end? At what point does the psychic apparatus resist the urge to exist in external data form? Will we tire of the technology? Will we want to reclaim some of our internal life? Will privacy become our most valued asset?
Who knows? I'm blogging about this, sending links to Facebook and Twitter, and hoping that someone will read this because, "In the construction of Immortal Fame you need first of all a cosmic shamelessness."*
*Umberto Eco, Travels in Hyperreality
Sunday, January 3, 2010
This Goes to 11?
The latest unemployment figures from the Department of Labor are due Friday (Jan. 8), and here's hoping the rate stays under 11 percent.
Chances are, it's likely, given that the last two months were down (10.2 percent in October and 10 percent in November). But if you live in some places, it already goes to 11. In November, Michigan again recorded the highest unemployment rate at 14.7 percent, with Rhode Island (12.7 percent), California, Nevada, and South Carolina (all 12.3 percent) nipping at its heels. And Florida's not far behind the pack at 11.5 percent.
So when was unemployment last over 10 percent? The early 1980s (hitting highs in November and December 1982) - fast times for joblessness, eh?
Just in case Friday's figures are worse than expected (and if they are, watch out for the double dip recession), here's a list of goodies we could relive from 1982:
January 17:
"Cold Sunday" in the United States sees temperatures fall to their lowest levels in over 100 years in numerous cities.
February
Late Night with David Letterman debuts (hey, not all bad)
March 5:
John Belushi found dead in Bungalow 3 of Chateau Marmont
April:
Falklands War begins: Argentina vs. United Kingdom
May:
The Hacienda, Manchester, UK club, dubbed "the most famous club in the world" by Newsweek, opened its doors
June:
Graceland opens to the public
July:
Lawn Chair Larry flies over California in a homemade flying machine: patio chair + helium balloons; strangely reminiscent of 2009's Balloon Boy; oh, but wait, that was a hoax - Larry was real
August:
Eye of the Tiger (Survivor) and Fame (Irene Cara) are big hits . . . compact discs first produced
September:
Grace Kelly dies
November:
Mr. Maverick (John McCain) first elected to US House of Representatives; end of the early 1980s recession
December:
TIME's Man of the Year: the personal computer
Funny old world.
Here's hoping that we can relive the recovery of 1982-83, but this time without the Survivor soundtrack.
Chances are, it's likely, given that the last two months were down (10.2 percent in October and 10 percent in November). But if you live in some places, it already goes to 11. In November, Michigan again recorded the highest unemployment rate at 14.7 percent, with Rhode Island (12.7 percent), California, Nevada, and South Carolina (all 12.3 percent) nipping at its heels. And Florida's not far behind the pack at 11.5 percent.
So when was unemployment last over 10 percent? The early 1980s (hitting highs in November and December 1982) - fast times for joblessness, eh?
Just in case Friday's figures are worse than expected (and if they are, watch out for the double dip recession), here's a list of goodies we could relive from 1982:
January 17:
"Cold Sunday" in the United States sees temperatures fall to their lowest levels in over 100 years in numerous cities.
February
Late Night with David Letterman debuts (hey, not all bad)
March 5:
John Belushi found dead in Bungalow 3 of Chateau Marmont
April:
Falklands War begins: Argentina vs. United Kingdom
May:
The Hacienda, Manchester, UK club, dubbed "the most famous club in the world" by Newsweek, opened its doors
June:
Graceland opens to the public
July:
Lawn Chair Larry flies over California in a homemade flying machine: patio chair + helium balloons; strangely reminiscent of 2009's Balloon Boy; oh, but wait, that was a hoax - Larry was real
August:
Eye of the Tiger (Survivor) and Fame (Irene Cara) are big hits . . . compact discs first produced
September:
Grace Kelly dies
November:
Mr. Maverick (John McCain) first elected to US House of Representatives; end of the early 1980s recession
December:
TIME's Man of the Year: the personal computer
Funny old world.
Here's hoping that we can relive the recovery of 1982-83, but this time without the Survivor soundtrack.
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