According to the EPA, from 1960 to 2007, the amount of ‘stuff’’ Americans threw in the trash nearly doubled from 2.7 pounds per person per day to 4.6 pounds per person per day. How much do you put in the trash on a daily basis? Have you ever even thought about it?
To make that statistic a tad more frightening, nearly a third of what we put in the trash is paper and paperboard… generally lightweight stuff. So now imagine converting that 4.6 pounds per day to volume when over a pound and a half of the total is paper. No wonder our landfills are filling up. There are now 1,794 landfills in the United States, down from 20,000 in the early 70’s. You can work out the math if you’d like, but a simple overview says it all: We’ve nearly doubled output and cut the place to put it to less than ten percent of what it was. Think that’s a problem?
Granted, we’ve learned a lot and have made great progress during that same timeframe in recycling. Aluminum recycling has become streamlined to the point that we shouldn’t need to mine any more bauxite. Ditto on newspapers and paper products. (Of course the internet is slowly tolling the death knell for newspapers, so maybe we won’t have to worry about them clogging our landfills in the future, but that turn of events is fodder for a blog on another day.) Unlike aluminum which can be recycled indefinitely, paper can only go through the process until the fibers are unusable, and each generation of recycled fiber creates a lesser product. Simply put, you start with clean, white office grade paper and end up with toilet paper or pressboard. You can’t recycle paper ‘up’ the quality chain, but the process is certainly worthwhile. Glass is another trash component that can be recycled indefinitely.
Besides saving space in our increasingly scarce landfills, recycled materials use less energy to manufacture new products. Recycled aluminum uses 95% less energy to make new cans than its virgin ore counterpart. Recycled glass melts at a lower temperature and uses 50% less energy in the process. Recycling one ton of paper saves 7000 gallons of water. Energy savings and landfill savings make it seem like a no-brainer to me. To you?
In much the same way that the economic downturn has forced folks to buy less, it will also be a boon to reducing trash and improving recycling. As much as I’d like to see a return to economic stability, the conservationist in me is smiling at the inversely proportionate nature of cash and trash. I’ve long been a proponent of usage-based trash collection. Today, I put out recycling, but not trash… just didn’t have enough of it. My neighbor put the maximum amount of trash allowed at his curb. We pay the same. We’re only going to really cut trash when the price goes up. And at the rate at which the landfills are filling up, I suspect that painful increase is right around the corner.
We need to take responsibility for our trash and reduce it. “Throw it away.” Where’s “away” anyway? Away from our homes, our streets, our neighborhoods, but it’s never away from our planet. Less in, less out… it’s that simple.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Good News / Bad News
It was bound to happen. From my soap box speeches about conservation over the years, I’ve always preached that ‘going green’ meant saving ‘green’ too. I held up my grandparents’ generation, those that endured the Great Depression, as the model to emulate. They were pressed to save money as their lives depended on it, so nothing was ever wasted. Nothing. Time and again, I cited examples of the things they did as environmentally friendly. They were way ahead of the concepts of reduce, reuse and recycle. I suspect that they didn’t really care about the impact of their actions on the planet so much as they cared about the impact of their actions on their wallets.
Just a year or so ago, I was pleading with my audiences to think ‘green’ and act ‘green’ to improve the health of our environment, and, oh by the way, they’d save a few bucks along the way too. Do right by the planet and your wallet will be a sidebar beneficiary.
Enter the bad news: the economic downturn. Suddenly, conspicuous consumption is being seen for exactly what it is: egotistical waste. Unaffordable waste. And the number of folks who can pony up has fallen faster than the Dow Jones average. (I believe much of it could never be afforded in the first place, but that’s a blog for another day.) Conversely, saving and scrimping are now the new chic to say nothing of being compulsory for an awful lot of folks.
And there’s nothing wrong with it. Turn down the thermostat and bundle up – save money (and energy); combine all your errands into one trip – save money (and energy); turn off the lights – save money (and energy); buy Energy Star appliances – save money (and energy); buy locally – save money (and energy)… you get the picture. With the economy in tatters, I believe folks are seeing the stuff they buy as just that: stuff. Stuff that, as often as not, simply ends up in our overcrowded landfills, so why buy it in the first place? Why, indeed.
Enter the good news: doing right by our wallets has allowed the environment to become the sidebar beneficiary. The lessons our grandparents learned have come full circle. History’s repeating itself as it always does. We’re saving energy and conserving on all fronts. It’s a shame the economy had to take such a beating before the conservation light bulb went on for most of us. I only wonder now how long it will stay lit.
Just a year or so ago, I was pleading with my audiences to think ‘green’ and act ‘green’ to improve the health of our environment, and, oh by the way, they’d save a few bucks along the way too. Do right by the planet and your wallet will be a sidebar beneficiary.
Enter the bad news: the economic downturn. Suddenly, conspicuous consumption is being seen for exactly what it is: egotistical waste. Unaffordable waste. And the number of folks who can pony up has fallen faster than the Dow Jones average. (I believe much of it could never be afforded in the first place, but that’s a blog for another day.) Conversely, saving and scrimping are now the new chic to say nothing of being compulsory for an awful lot of folks.
And there’s nothing wrong with it. Turn down the thermostat and bundle up – save money (and energy); combine all your errands into one trip – save money (and energy); turn off the lights – save money (and energy); buy Energy Star appliances – save money (and energy); buy locally – save money (and energy)… you get the picture. With the economy in tatters, I believe folks are seeing the stuff they buy as just that: stuff. Stuff that, as often as not, simply ends up in our overcrowded landfills, so why buy it in the first place? Why, indeed.
Enter the good news: doing right by our wallets has allowed the environment to become the sidebar beneficiary. The lessons our grandparents learned have come full circle. History’s repeating itself as it always does. We’re saving energy and conserving on all fronts. It’s a shame the economy had to take such a beating before the conservation light bulb went on for most of us. I only wonder now how long it will stay lit.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
The Ubiquitous Cell Phone
What is it about cell phones? And in seeing them put to use in every conceivable fashion as I go through my day, I can’t help but wonder, “HOW did we ever possibly survive without them?”
I’ll state for the record right now that I fully appreciate and use them for their convenience … not only as a communication device but as a calendar, calculator, alarm, stop watch (and I really have used that function on mine) and clock, to name a few. The next advance of web access and gps functions certainly lend to their value. My question and curiosity surrounds the seeming need for some folks to talk on them incessantly. I mean really, have you ever listened in on someone’s conversation only to determine in five seconds that it was so much blather? And I’ve really got to wonder if the recipient of the call is thinking the same thing.
If you’re in the grocery store and need to verify your list or check the status of an item in your pantry, go ahead and make the call. If you’re running late or will be delayed, go ahead and make the call. If you decided to order take out on your way home, go ahead and make the call. If you’re just calling to chat, I’d say make the call as long as you’re not: driving, walking in a crowded store, standing in line for any reason, within earshot of others who have absolutely no interest in your conversation, or participating in any activity that requires a modicum of your attention.
I believe I’m not the only one who gets a little annoyed when chatting cell phone users block store aisles, hold up the line, fail to look both ways as a pedestrian, mishandle a turn while driving because one hand’s on the phone, or exhibit any other rude, inattention-driven activity. It’s more annoying when it’s a disruption of solitude and concentration. There are certain places where and certain situations in which a ringing cell phone is, in my book, just this side of a cardinal sin. Church, for instance. Have we so abdicated decent manners that preachers and church bulletins have to remind us to turn cell phones off?
I was lucky enough to view the Grand Canyon from the North Rim recently. My appreciation of its grandeur and all that’s spectacular about our natural world was disrupted in less than two minutes by, you guessed it, a ringing phone… and an irritating ring tone at that. I’m happy to report that I was able to curtail my urge to grab the phone and heave it as far into the canyon as I could… what with littering and all.
I’m not comfortable using a cell phone in public, at least not within earshot of perfect strangers. Maybe I’m not that chatty. Verbose, yes; chatty, no. Besides, my personal business is just that. I was recently in the toothpaste aisle and could clearly overhear the conversation of a woman on a cell phone near me. I was stunned at the incredibly personal details she was discussing about a legal case in which she was involved. I admit: I continued staring at toothpaste and simply eavesdropped. When my significant other found me and asked what was taking so long, I nodded my head toward the woman and said, “Sssshhh. I’m listening. I think she’s about to reveal where they hid the body….”
I’ll state for the record right now that I fully appreciate and use them for their convenience … not only as a communication device but as a calendar, calculator, alarm, stop watch (and I really have used that function on mine) and clock, to name a few. The next advance of web access and gps functions certainly lend to their value. My question and curiosity surrounds the seeming need for some folks to talk on them incessantly. I mean really, have you ever listened in on someone’s conversation only to determine in five seconds that it was so much blather? And I’ve really got to wonder if the recipient of the call is thinking the same thing.
If you’re in the grocery store and need to verify your list or check the status of an item in your pantry, go ahead and make the call. If you’re running late or will be delayed, go ahead and make the call. If you decided to order take out on your way home, go ahead and make the call. If you’re just calling to chat, I’d say make the call as long as you’re not: driving, walking in a crowded store, standing in line for any reason, within earshot of others who have absolutely no interest in your conversation, or participating in any activity that requires a modicum of your attention.
I believe I’m not the only one who gets a little annoyed when chatting cell phone users block store aisles, hold up the line, fail to look both ways as a pedestrian, mishandle a turn while driving because one hand’s on the phone, or exhibit any other rude, inattention-driven activity. It’s more annoying when it’s a disruption of solitude and concentration. There are certain places where and certain situations in which a ringing cell phone is, in my book, just this side of a cardinal sin. Church, for instance. Have we so abdicated decent manners that preachers and church bulletins have to remind us to turn cell phones off?
I was lucky enough to view the Grand Canyon from the North Rim recently. My appreciation of its grandeur and all that’s spectacular about our natural world was disrupted in less than two minutes by, you guessed it, a ringing phone… and an irritating ring tone at that. I’m happy to report that I was able to curtail my urge to grab the phone and heave it as far into the canyon as I could… what with littering and all.
I’m not comfortable using a cell phone in public, at least not within earshot of perfect strangers. Maybe I’m not that chatty. Verbose, yes; chatty, no. Besides, my personal business is just that. I was recently in the toothpaste aisle and could clearly overhear the conversation of a woman on a cell phone near me. I was stunned at the incredibly personal details she was discussing about a legal case in which she was involved. I admit: I continued staring at toothpaste and simply eavesdropped. When my significant other found me and asked what was taking so long, I nodded my head toward the woman and said, “Sssshhh. I’m listening. I think she’s about to reveal where they hid the body….”
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Long Distance… huh?
I received my phone bill yesterday, and it got me to thinking about the concept of long distance.
Since my cell service serves me in that capacity, I no longer carry a long distance connection on my land line. (Yes, I’m a bit of a dinosaur insomuch as I still even have a land line, but it’s one step at a time for me in this digital revolution.) It really wasn’t that long ago that land lines were required to have a long distance carrier. And the breakup of Ma Bell generated the advertising storm of switching services and cents per minute that fueled the broadcast media and direct mail for years. And that spawned the calling cards and the “dial 10-10…” numbers.
I remember learning to use the phone as a kid. Our exchange included letters. Maybe you remember that too. Ours was “Clifford 7” or “CL7” as I learned it. Numeric references took over by the time we moved when I was eight, and I learned my new phone number as “678” as opposed to its original “Orchard 8.”
Additionally, whenever I asked to make a call, it was always met with the query: “Do you have to dial a ‘1’ first?” Ah, the concept of dialing “1” for long distance…. It’s quickly becoming a fading memory. And the thrill of receiving a long-distance call! And running to get it. “Hurry, it’s long-distance!” The arrival of push button phones was cutting edge, and the families of the cool kids had them first. I remember wondering what the * and the # were for, and was told they’d be used for ‘something someday’ although no one could define what and when that would be over thirty-five years ago. In the meantime, they seemed to simply serve as symmetric placeholders for the dial pad.
Now we can’t live without * and # and there’s no more need to hurry for a long distance call. A minute is a minute is a minute. No longer does it cost more to call across the country than across the state, and in all likelihood, the phone is ringing right on your hip or in your pocket. And so long-distance calling quickly joins the memories of “touch tone,” dialing, party lines and switch board operators.
We proceed on through the 21st century.
Since my cell service serves me in that capacity, I no longer carry a long distance connection on my land line. (Yes, I’m a bit of a dinosaur insomuch as I still even have a land line, but it’s one step at a time for me in this digital revolution.) It really wasn’t that long ago that land lines were required to have a long distance carrier. And the breakup of Ma Bell generated the advertising storm of switching services and cents per minute that fueled the broadcast media and direct mail for years. And that spawned the calling cards and the “dial 10-10…” numbers.
I remember learning to use the phone as a kid. Our exchange included letters. Maybe you remember that too. Ours was “Clifford 7” or “CL7” as I learned it. Numeric references took over by the time we moved when I was eight, and I learned my new phone number as “678” as opposed to its original “Orchard 8.”
Additionally, whenever I asked to make a call, it was always met with the query: “Do you have to dial a ‘1’ first?” Ah, the concept of dialing “1” for long distance…. It’s quickly becoming a fading memory. And the thrill of receiving a long-distance call! And running to get it. “Hurry, it’s long-distance!” The arrival of push button phones was cutting edge, and the families of the cool kids had them first. I remember wondering what the * and the # were for, and was told they’d be used for ‘something someday’ although no one could define what and when that would be over thirty-five years ago. In the meantime, they seemed to simply serve as symmetric placeholders for the dial pad.
Now we can’t live without * and # and there’s no more need to hurry for a long distance call. A minute is a minute is a minute. No longer does it cost more to call across the country than across the state, and in all likelihood, the phone is ringing right on your hip or in your pocket. And so long-distance calling quickly joins the memories of “touch tone,” dialing, party lines and switch board operators.
We proceed on through the 21st century.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Where Am I?
I used a GPS system for the first time last week. That may seem like a so-what comment, but those that know me will react with surprise. For most of my friends and those closest to me, I’m the only person they know who orienteers. The sport of orienteering, for those who aren’t familiar, is one of navigation that’s founded in the ability to read a map. Therein lays the surprise. Well that coupled with my suspicious perspective of technology. But the GPS came with the new cell phone, and, hey, it’s a free trial.
It’s got its pros and cons. On the bright side, if you’re hopelessly lost, GPS can pinpoint exactly where you are, and if you know where you are, you can figure out how to get where you’re going. The basic tenet of orienteering is to always know exactly where you are on the map. Although I sometimes struggle to find an orienteering control, I rarely “loose contact with the map” meaning I can always point to exactly where I am. So that GPS pinpoint can be a God-send, but at the same time, I find it a bit frightening. 1984, anyone?
Another benefit is that it’s small… no unwieldy road map to unfold, and then re-fold if you can. However, I find that to be a simultaneous detriment. I get the bigger picture with the road map, and what’s more, I can study it before I depart and keep the full map image in my head. Admittedly, my mental map (either road or orienteering type) fails me at times, and I think, “This is not how I pictured this….” That’s usually followed by a navigational error. So GPS could be the rescue.
And GPS talks to you, so you don’t need to take your eyes off the road. At the same time, there are several features on the screen that are helpful: mileage to next turn, total time left to reach the destination, the 3D view showing the road and the bends and turns that are approaching, and the identification of the next crossroads. All great stuff, but on a two-inch square screen, it takes more than a second to see it, so I’d rank it equal to the old-fashioned map in the time needed with eyes off the road.
The talking is okay. I’ve got a friend who refers to hers as “Sally Big Mouth.” My GPS also features a woman’s voice. Maybe they all do, but with all that technology can do, why can’t I choose the gender of the voice? I’d prefer a male voice… nice broadcaster type. Maybe that’s sexist, but it’s my preference, and I know I’m partial and biased.
So while I was driving, GPS spoke up and said “Severe traffic congestion ahead. Expect a four-hour delay.” Could that be true? The time-left indicator had, in fact, added four hours to my time of arrival. I debated finding an alternate route presuming the interstate had been closed with no opportunity to exit. Enter my suspicion of technology, so I kept to the known route. At no point did I encounter a delay, and noticed the arrival ETA stripping the hours and minutes off my time. GPS did not speak up at any point to correct itself. I figured it should, ala Gilda Radner of the old SNL skit, say: “Never mind.”
I used it again for the trip home. I live on an “avenue”; however, GPS refers to it as a “street”. About two miles from my home is a road of the same name designated as “lane.” I entered my address as “avenue”. As I approached the last crossroads before my street, GPS told me to turn the opposite way, presumably to take me to the “lane” location. When I pulled into my own driveway, GPS suggested I “make the next legal U-turn.” It was still making that suggestion as I walked into my kitchen.
Suspicion of technology continues.
It’s got its pros and cons. On the bright side, if you’re hopelessly lost, GPS can pinpoint exactly where you are, and if you know where you are, you can figure out how to get where you’re going. The basic tenet of orienteering is to always know exactly where you are on the map. Although I sometimes struggle to find an orienteering control, I rarely “loose contact with the map” meaning I can always point to exactly where I am. So that GPS pinpoint can be a God-send, but at the same time, I find it a bit frightening. 1984, anyone?
Another benefit is that it’s small… no unwieldy road map to unfold, and then re-fold if you can. However, I find that to be a simultaneous detriment. I get the bigger picture with the road map, and what’s more, I can study it before I depart and keep the full map image in my head. Admittedly, my mental map (either road or orienteering type) fails me at times, and I think, “This is not how I pictured this….” That’s usually followed by a navigational error. So GPS could be the rescue.
And GPS talks to you, so you don’t need to take your eyes off the road. At the same time, there are several features on the screen that are helpful: mileage to next turn, total time left to reach the destination, the 3D view showing the road and the bends and turns that are approaching, and the identification of the next crossroads. All great stuff, but on a two-inch square screen, it takes more than a second to see it, so I’d rank it equal to the old-fashioned map in the time needed with eyes off the road.
The talking is okay. I’ve got a friend who refers to hers as “Sally Big Mouth.” My GPS also features a woman’s voice. Maybe they all do, but with all that technology can do, why can’t I choose the gender of the voice? I’d prefer a male voice… nice broadcaster type. Maybe that’s sexist, but it’s my preference, and I know I’m partial and biased.
So while I was driving, GPS spoke up and said “Severe traffic congestion ahead. Expect a four-hour delay.” Could that be true? The time-left indicator had, in fact, added four hours to my time of arrival. I debated finding an alternate route presuming the interstate had been closed with no opportunity to exit. Enter my suspicion of technology, so I kept to the known route. At no point did I encounter a delay, and noticed the arrival ETA stripping the hours and minutes off my time. GPS did not speak up at any point to correct itself. I figured it should, ala Gilda Radner of the old SNL skit, say: “Never mind.”
I used it again for the trip home. I live on an “avenue”; however, GPS refers to it as a “street”. About two miles from my home is a road of the same name designated as “lane.” I entered my address as “avenue”. As I approached the last crossroads before my street, GPS told me to turn the opposite way, presumably to take me to the “lane” location. When I pulled into my own driveway, GPS suggested I “make the next legal U-turn.” It was still making that suggestion as I walked into my kitchen.
Suspicion of technology continues.
Friday, February 6, 2009
There’s Still No Free Lunch
There’s no such thing as a free lunch. There never was. There never will be.
Right? Right.
But the internet seems to have erased or, at least, blurred the concept. There are tens of thousands (maybe hundreds of thousands) of sites that seemingly offer something for nothing. You’ve probably been on a thousand of them yourself. “Click here for your free <insert whatever here>.”
Free? Hardly. You’ve got to enter your data, at the very least your email address, to get what’s being offered. That was your payment: your contact information for future marketing efforts. Hey, if you’re really interested in the product, it’s a deal! And it’s a deal for the marketer because they’re after the data in the first place, and the more they can collect the better.
That concept, “click here for your free…” has altered our concept of getting a free lunch. It certainly seems free and has raised expectation that "free" reigns online.
I recently followed a chatroom string in which folks were trashing an online job posting board because the site took (wait for it…) a fee from every transaction. That’s right a fee from every transaction! Heaven forbid! A fee! On the internet! It was obviously unthinkable to them.
I wanted to chime in: “Someone has to work to keep the site operational and write all the code that makes the thing work in the first place (and work very nicely, if I might interject). You don’t work for free. Why should they?” But I kept quiet and clicked off assuming it would fall on deaf ears (or should that be “blind eyes” now?).
Oh sure, there are some whoppers out there that are free: Google, MySpace, Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Flickr, to name a few. Make that seemingly free – they’re selling ads (not unlike broadcast media) and collecting valuable data.
But for the most part, online business is just that: business. I’ve got a product or information that’s got some value to you. I’m going to charge you a fair price. It’s the foundation of capitalism, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with it. If you don’t like my price (or that fact that I’m going to charge you in the first place), by all means, search Google to see if you can find someone who’ll part with it for free. And good luck to you.
Right? Right.
But the internet seems to have erased or, at least, blurred the concept. There are tens of thousands (maybe hundreds of thousands) of sites that seemingly offer something for nothing. You’ve probably been on a thousand of them yourself. “Click here for your free <insert whatever here>.”
Free? Hardly. You’ve got to enter your data, at the very least your email address, to get what’s being offered. That was your payment: your contact information for future marketing efforts. Hey, if you’re really interested in the product, it’s a deal! And it’s a deal for the marketer because they’re after the data in the first place, and the more they can collect the better.
That concept, “click here for your free…” has altered our concept of getting a free lunch. It certainly seems free and has raised expectation that "free" reigns online.
I recently followed a chatroom string in which folks were trashing an online job posting board because the site took (wait for it…) a fee from every transaction. That’s right a fee from every transaction! Heaven forbid! A fee! On the internet! It was obviously unthinkable to them.
I wanted to chime in: “Someone has to work to keep the site operational and write all the code that makes the thing work in the first place (and work very nicely, if I might interject). You don’t work for free. Why should they?” But I kept quiet and clicked off assuming it would fall on deaf ears (or should that be “blind eyes” now?).
Oh sure, there are some whoppers out there that are free: Google, MySpace, Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Flickr, to name a few. Make that seemingly free – they’re selling ads (not unlike broadcast media) and collecting valuable data.
But for the most part, online business is just that: business. I’ve got a product or information that’s got some value to you. I’m going to charge you a fair price. It’s the foundation of capitalism, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with it. If you don’t like my price (or that fact that I’m going to charge you in the first place), by all means, search Google to see if you can find someone who’ll part with it for free. And good luck to you.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
A Whole New Vocabulary
Language evolves. It’s that simple. Despite my disdain for misuse of the English language, I know that. But think about the whole new vocabulary we’ve created through this digital revolution.
Let’s start with the obvious: Google. In case you didn’t know, besides being the premier search engine, it’s a term for ten to the one-hundredth power; that is: a ten with a hundred zeroes behind it. A big number. To its credit as jargon, Google entered as a verb. “I Googled it.” It took Xerox years to move from noun status (I need a Xerox [instead of the generic “copy”]) to that of a verb (I’ll Xerox it). Google – a big number and a powerful verb.
Text has also earned verb status: “I’ll text you.” It took a tad longer to get to that point than Google, but it’s certainly there now. No one questions it. And now we blog and we Digg and we Skype. Bad guys phish. User names and passwords abound. I recently saw “mouseover” for the first time and knew exactly what it meant.
Faxing and its related jargon are quickly heading for the museum if they’re not fully on display there already. Remember FedEx’s “Zap Mail”? When overnight wasn’t fast enough and we all scratched our heads and wondered how. We’re now texting all those folks we used to fax.
And in talking about big numbers, megs and gigs are commonplace. Anyone old enough to remember the start of this revolution and the advent of the digital age knows the whole thing is based on ones and zeroes. Bits and bytes. Even from the beginning they were measured as kilobytes, but megabytes? Wow, that was a big file. Moving it from one place to another could take hours. I now have a 4-gig flash drive smaller than my thumb, and I got it in a Cracker Jack box. It wasn’t long ago that four gigabytes of information ran on mainframes and even those guys were awed by the size. Do we still even have mainframes?
A friend commented that our communication has become very Star Trek-ish, and it’s true. In the not too distant future, we’ll all be tapping our lapel pins to chat with one another. I only wish food preparation technology was moving at the same speed. Let’s face it, microwaves haven’t changed much, if at all, in a quarter century. I’d like to have a food replicator soon. I’ve got all the communication technology I need for now. But a food replicator? Now we’re talkin’. “Tea. Earl Gray. Hot.” Or “Beer. Imported Ale. Cold.” Yeah. Now we’re really talkin’.
Let’s start with the obvious: Google. In case you didn’t know, besides being the premier search engine, it’s a term for ten to the one-hundredth power; that is: a ten with a hundred zeroes behind it. A big number. To its credit as jargon, Google entered as a verb. “I Googled it.” It took Xerox years to move from noun status (I need a Xerox [instead of the generic “copy”]) to that of a verb (I’ll Xerox it). Google – a big number and a powerful verb.
Text has also earned verb status: “I’ll text you.” It took a tad longer to get to that point than Google, but it’s certainly there now. No one questions it. And now we blog and we Digg and we Skype. Bad guys phish. User names and passwords abound. I recently saw “mouseover” for the first time and knew exactly what it meant.
Faxing and its related jargon are quickly heading for the museum if they’re not fully on display there already. Remember FedEx’s “Zap Mail”? When overnight wasn’t fast enough and we all scratched our heads and wondered how. We’re now texting all those folks we used to fax.
And in talking about big numbers, megs and gigs are commonplace. Anyone old enough to remember the start of this revolution and the advent of the digital age knows the whole thing is based on ones and zeroes. Bits and bytes. Even from the beginning they were measured as kilobytes, but megabytes? Wow, that was a big file. Moving it from one place to another could take hours. I now have a 4-gig flash drive smaller than my thumb, and I got it in a Cracker Jack box. It wasn’t long ago that four gigabytes of information ran on mainframes and even those guys were awed by the size. Do we still even have mainframes?
A friend commented that our communication has become very Star Trek-ish, and it’s true. In the not too distant future, we’ll all be tapping our lapel pins to chat with one another. I only wish food preparation technology was moving at the same speed. Let’s face it, microwaves haven’t changed much, if at all, in a quarter century. I’d like to have a food replicator soon. I’ve got all the communication technology I need for now. But a food replicator? Now we’re talkin’. “Tea. Earl Gray. Hot.” Or “Beer. Imported Ale. Cold.” Yeah. Now we’re really talkin’.
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