Tag: computers

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Robot Love

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Am I right? Consider this: would you enjoy watching a TV show in which contestants competed to solve complicated math equations as quickly as possible? Now, would you be excited to see a computer compete against the humans in this contest? I didn’t think so.

Yes, computers can crunch numbers. In fact, in essence, that’s all they do. The natural language used for the questions in Jeopardy are broken down by the computer into bits and bytes and then processed. Very quickly.

From the computer’s point of view, all of the questions are nothing more than math equations to be solved with speed.

It’s a Binary World
Now this one really bugs me: “KG Blankinship” writes in a letter to the New York Times that “of course we can build machines that exhibit purely random behavior by exploiting quantum mechanics as well”.

But before that he says something even more absurd: “Self-awareness and the ability to adapt creatively can also be programmed into a computer”. The statement is self-contradictory but he hits on a truth: “can be programmed” into a computer. Next, he’ll tell us that a computer can program itself. As if the program that told it to program itself could ever be something that was not, no matter how many steps down the chain, the product of human intervention.

Can a computer’s behavior ever be truly “random”? Or is the appearance of randomness merely the irreducible fact that the human’s have hidden the schedule for the behavior from humans by employing elaborate and obtuse mathematical formulae? Yes, always. And it’s always ultimately math. And the computer is always ultimately binary, which means it can never not be math. And if someone jumps up and shouts “yeah, but sooner or later they will find a way to integrate organic cells…” I say that on that day the organic cells will be self-aware or random, not the computer.

Why does it matter? Because sooner or later someone is going to tell someone else that something is true or must be done and can’t be contradicted because a computer said it was true or must be done. No, the programmer said it was true or must be done. The computer is only doing what it can only do: parrot the input of it’s master.

It occurs to me that some of the people defending the idea that computers can “think” like humans operate under the assumption that the human brain is binary in function, that is, that neurons are all either on or off, with no meaningful in-between state. (I suppose you could also argue that a very, very large number of computer chips could attain a level of virtual analog operation, where there are so many simulated “in-between” states that is operates like a human brain.)

It’s an intriguing line of thought. I don’t believe the human brain is binary in that sense. I believe that human beings are an integrated system in which any particular state of virtually any part of the body has an infinite range of values, which, combined with every other part of the body having an infinite range of values, produces an organism that can never be matched by any device that is, by definition, at its fundamental level, always binary.

To believe that human brains are also binary is to impose a reductionist view of biology onto an organism.  You can only believe it if you choose to see only the binary functions of the organism, and ignoring the organic non-binary aspects of the brain.

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Letter to Compaq Computers

Thursday, June 03, 1999

Dear Mr. Ciceri,

I’m a busy person, and I’m sure you’re very busy– so I will be very brief.

About two months ago, we were shopping for a laptop computer. I had not purchased a Compaq in some time, because I had been “burned” about seven or eight years ago by Compaq’s proprietary memory modules– we had to pay three times as much as other computer owners did for a simple memory upgrade. However, I thought it was time to give Compaq an opportunity to win more of our business. We bought three Compaq Armadas, and then I bought a Presario Notebook, model 1920, for myself—because I needed a large hard drive and lots of power.

I discovered, within a couple of weeks, that Compaq now installs “Winmodems” on its notebooks. I was shocked and extremely disappointed. I called your staff and asked to exchange this model for a Compaq that had a real modem. No dice—you don’t make any models with a real modem anymore. Fine, I will take a refund—it’s been less than 30 days. Then I’ll get a Sony or some other model that does have a real modem. Surely you don’t want a dissatisfied customer.

I won’t bore you with the details. I was on the phone for hours arguing with your staff. The bottom line was quite clear. Once Compaq has your money— they will never, ever give it back, no matter how dissatisfied you, the customer, may be..

I was a little stunned. Usually large companies that wish to do well over the long term realize that customer satisfaction is far more important than the profit margin on the sale of a single item. We are not a small company. I play an important—probably decisive – role in almost all computer purchases for this agency. You don’t even want to give me the benefit of the doubt?

Your staff argued vehemently with me that winmodems are great. I won’t repeat the discussion—ask any reputable, independent computer expert what he thinks of “winmodems”. They are the “mopeds” of the computer world. They only function with Windows. They create a larger profit margin for the modem vendors because, even though they cost less to the consumer, they also cost way less to manufacture. And they can sell you an “upgrade” without providing any new product at all. Just send the user a “patch” that shoves more of the work onto the CPU. And Winmodems increase Microsoft’s proprietary stranglehold on the desktop.

That’s not my only complaint about your notebook. I discovered that my 6.5 GIG hard drive is only a 5.0 Gig hard drive. Again, semantics aside, the Presario has stolen 1.6 GIG of MY disk space for something called “System Save”. I am warned that if I delete this, I will be in danger of losing data or worse.

Look, you had a reasonable customer who didn’t expect the world—only a decent, well-made notebook computer, with 6.5 GIG hard drive space, and a modem. Because this notebook has a “winmodem”, I cannot use it to run Linux, my favourite OS. Nothing in your advertising or webpages indicates that you can’t run Linux on the Presario 1920. And, well, you can run it, if you don’t need a modem. As if…

Anyway, the bottom line is this: Compaq had (has) a choice. Compaq could have said: we have an unhappy customer. We did fudge a bit about the modem. Maybe he’s got a point. Maybe not. But let’s make sure we don’t cost ourselves future sales: give him his money back.

Or… like any carnival huckster, Compaq can keep my money in their tight little fists and refuse to ever give it back, knowing full well that it would cost me more in legal fees to fight them than it would to swallow that unpleasant taste in my mouth and take my cruddy little notebook computer home and let it sit in a little corner somewhere.

Sir, you refused to make good on your promises. You made me feel ripped off. Your salesmen, beyond all comprehension, said, yes, we will write off any possible future sales to Christian Horizons for years and years and years, just so we can desperately hang on to the profit margin from a single laptop computer. I was amazed. If I had any money invested in Compaq stock and if I thought this was representative of how Compaq deals with its customers, I would sell my stock immediately.

Unless Compaq has a change of policy, you might as well send your brochures elsewhere.

Bill Van Dyk

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Garbage Compaqter

My first experience with a Compaq computer must have been about ten years ago. A social service agency in Chatham had been persuaded, by MicroAge, to buy one Compaq’s “Deskpro” models. It had run pretty well for them for a couple of years, but when we needed to upgrade the memory for some new applications we wanted to run– surprise! You couldn’t just go to the computer store and buy a couple of off the shelf SIMMS. Oh no– you had to buy Compaq’s own proprietary memory modules. I’ll give you one guess as to which cost more. A lot more.

The Compaq representative tried to tell me that Compaq’s memory was more than twice as expensive because it was “better quality”. Leaving aside the question of whether or not any sane customer would be willing to pay $575 instead of $150 for memory that might be 1 nanosecond faster on a 386 computer, you have to ask yourself what Compaq really thinks of their customers.

That was the last time I recommended Compaq computers to anybody in a long time. I would guess that in the seven or eight years since I became aware of Compaq’s nasty tendency to booby-trap their hardware with proprietary devices (they even sometimes soldered memory onto the motherboard) my recommendations have been the deciding factor in about $200,000.00 of computer purchases. Maybe Compaq doesn’t care about the business they lost. They did pretty well anyway– until this year–, meaning that you can fool a lot of the people a lot of the time.

Don’t ask me why, but I recently recommended the Compaq notebook computer, an Armada 1700, to a few people. Lapse in judgment? I thought maybe Compaq had changed. Most of the computer press had given the Armada 1700 favourable reviews and I didn’t have time to review every detail, so I made a snap decision.

Surprise! Compaqs now come with built-in WINmodems. You know what a WINmodem is? Well, in the old days, a modem was a device that translated analog signals from a telephone line into digital information that was then forwarded to your CPU for processing. Well, the WINmodem offloads that translation function onto the CPU itself. This has a couple of wonderful effects. First of all, it adds work to your CPU, slowing down your computer. Secondly, it is proprietary to Windows– you can’t access this modem with Linux because Linux programmers aren’t stupid.

The real effect of WINmodems is to increase Microsoft’s death-grip on your desktop, and to add profits to the modem industry by making it cheaper for them to change models (they only have to rewrite the software: they don’t actually have to manufacturer new chips anymore).

Isn’t this a GREAT idea? No wonder Compaq embraced it!

There is nothing on the advertising or system information that comes with the Compaq notebook that tells you that you are getting a WINmodem. You have been suckered.

I called Compaq about a week after I received a Presario 1920 with this problem. I explained that I had been tricked: I had expected a real modem. I wanted to return my Presario for a similar model with a real modem. The technical support guy, who was polite at all times, said that Compaq did not make any notebook computers that did not have a WINmodem. Fine, I said, I’ll take my money back and go shopping for a brand (like Sony) that does have a real modem.

Unfortunately, Compaq said– in polite, but firm language: SUCKER! WE ALREADY HAVE YOUR MONEY! Even though the computer was less than 2 weeks old, there was no way that Compaq was going to take it back.

I said to the technical support guy something to this effect: A week ago you told me (figuratively) that this was such a wonderful, valuable, noble notebook computer that was worth every penny of what you were asking for it. In only one week, is it now so worthless that even Compaq doesn’t want it? There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

There are a couple of other reasons to dislike Compaq Notebooks:

Compaq has their own version of Windows and makes dire threats of evil consequences if you dare to install any other.

Compaq loads the notebook with tons of advertising and software for AOL, GENIE, MSN, and other on-line services. This is YOUR hard drive we’re talking about.

Compaq advertises a 6.4 GIG hard drive, but 1.5 GIG is taken up with something called “System Save”. Apparently, you can delete it if you want to, but, once again, you get dire warnings about potential problems.

Compaq’s installation CD over-writes everything on the hard drive. So, let’s say your Windows 98 gets buggered up somehow. Normally, you could try reinstalling it over your current system. If that fails, you can delete the Windows directory and try reinstalling again. Either way, you get to keep your precious data and configuration files. But Compaq’s install disk OVER-WRITES everything on your hard drive!

Here’s the biggest idiocy of all: due to overwhelming consumer demand, Compaq has decided to do away with the OFF switch. I kid you not. Compaq is so sure that Windows 98 is going to work just great that they have left it up to Bill Gates’ malevolent mishmash of mushy modules to shut your computer off.

How fool-proof is this? Within three hours, my Presario would no longer shut off. I called technical support. They said to hold the button down for four seconds. No dice. They said try again. Try again. Try again. Finally, he put me on hold and went off seeking advanced expertise. The advanced expert advised me to unplug the thing and pull out the battery. Brilliant! This approach has the advantage of possibly corrupting your systems files, requiring a re-install of Compaq’s proprietary Windows and the destruction of all of your data.

Finally, after about six or seven hours of use, my Compaq Presario 1920 began to lock up while running Word for Windows. Again, I am not kidding. A brand new 300 Mz. Pentium notebook computer with 64 MB of RAM locked up within six hours of use. And before it locked up, it began to thrash and hesitate: I would be typing away and the keyboard would be locked out while the CPU ran off to lala land. When it locked up, not even ctrl-alt-delete could revive it. Dead meat. Lost work. Thank you, Compaq. Thank you Microsoft.

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Frank the Hacker

I used to buy computers from salesmen. I shopped at MicroAge, way back in the 1980’s. A salesman convinced me that the IBM PS/2 Model 80, at $13,000, was better than state of the art. It was cutting edge. And, best of all, it used the new MicroChannel Architecture, so our I/O devices would be fast and easily configured. He rhapsodized about how IBM’s reliability and stability were in a class unto themselves. That’s why, when he offered a service contract at about $3,000 a year, I told him no. I said, “if it’s so reliable, we won’t need one.”

Well, as we all know now, MicroChannel died a quick, obscure death. When did I first realize I had been duped? When I tried to get a tape back-up drive for it and found out it cost $700 for the interface card alone.

Even better, I wanted an IBM keyboard for one of our other computers: $675.

It slowly dawned on me that this salesman, Wally, didn’t know a thing about computers, didn’t love computers, didn’t even know how to work a computer. I began to realize this when he wrote out my invoice, by hand, on one of those old metal boxes with the triplicate forms in them.

The next time I went shopping for computers, I went to a little shop in a decrepit little storefront on Queen Street. “Frank” sold me IBM clones for about $3,000 a piece. They were faster, better, more reliable, and more compatible (obviously) than anything MicroAge was offering at the time. I bought a Northgate keyboard from a company in Minnesota for about $150 after hearing Jerry Pournelle in Byte Magazine rave about it. It was better than the IBM keyboard– had the same nice click that I like, but it was lighter and more responsive. I had it for seven years before dropping a big heavy computer manual on it. I am not kidding. It was the manual for Word Perfect 5.0. It cracked the circuit board inside. I tried to re-solder it, but it was beyond me. I ordered a new one from Northgate. (Northgate’s keyboard division has since been bought out by their employees.)

Frank was a hacker. He dressed like a hacker. He looked like a hacker. I think he smelled like a hacker too, though I never got close enough to find out. His shop was a mess. He had a troll in the back room assembling motherboards and CPU’s and installing cards. But I loved Frank. He sold me computers and computer parts at a fair price. He loved computers. When a new device came out that was cheaper and better, he always recommended it, even if his profit margin was smaller. He couldn’t stand to sell you a piece of outdated, stupid technology, like parallel port tape drives or thermal printers.

Wally always wore a suit and tie. He looked frazzled for a while– I heard he went through an unpleasant divorce. He probably sold his wife one of those pathetic P/S 2 Model 50’s which were still based on the 286 processor and came out at the time the 386 was already getting old. It had a slick case, but the pathetic little power supply was capable of about 2 watts and it was impossible to upgrade.

The MicroAge store was slick and expensively decorated and went through a redesign every few months. I’ll bet their staff went on “retreats” and developed “strategic plans” and “mission statements”. They’re mission statement back then was something like: “We will fleece the customer for as much money as we can by deceiving him into believing he will be more productive with an empty hypocritical slogan than he will be with a functional computer”.

Frank’s mission statement was, “Where the hell did I leave that IDE cable? It was here a minute ago.” His strategic plan was to find his desk. His code of customer service was to try to remember to send out an invoice, and he gave you credit only if he remembered your name.

The world could do with a lot more Franks. We already know where all the Wallys are.

Keyboards

Even Northgate, by the way, puts the “\” in an idiotic place. Anyone who still uses the dos prompt has to reach his pinky way over to the right, to below the <enter> key to get to it. Meanwhile, the “}” is right up there in easy reach. Yeah, and how often do you use the “}”?