"Radio Digs Its Own Grave as Cultural Currents Shift."

"Stolid biz loses a generation; Wi-Fi in cars could deliver a crushing blow."

Most people under age 20 have never experienced good radio. So when baby boomers and Gen X’ers start waxing rhapsodically about their old-time favorites, wanting them to come back, it’s the equivalent of wishing that musicvideos would come back to MTV.

Insiders believe that there’s no revolution in terrestrial radio because the owners know it’s headed into the dumper. They’re just milking it for all they can before it falls off a cliff....

Google to bring WiFi via balloons.

Project Loon.

IN THE COMMENTS: elkh1 said:

Better to snoop you including those of you who don't use Google.

EDH said:

"It is balloon!!!... Well, not just stand there, sound evil spirit alarm!"

"My homeless hotspot keeps wandering out of range."

"[B]y literally labelling the person as a 'hotspot,' you are priming an affluent, iPad-toting public to think of that person as a commodity."

"If all BBH are doing is turning these people into an aerial and asking them to stand still then they are just treating homeless people the same way the Victorians did when they asked them to hold posters."

Man lives in a 78-square-foot space.

He's an architect in his 20s, living — roommate free! — in New York City.  Based on the street scene, he's right about here. He seems reasonably satisfied with it, as he describes minimalist impulses going back to childhood. There's room for a bed/sofa and a desk. My only outburst, watching that video, was "does he have WiFi?"

Picture a prison cell that size. Would it be too cruel? But inject the freedom to walk out the door at any time and have all of NYC. It's not cruel at all. When you're sleeping in your bed, the space around you doesn't really matter, and when you're sitting at that desk, it's not too different from a carrel in the library.

Firesheep.

Eek.

I'd kind of already given up my once-raging habit of hanging out in cafés on café WiFi. Oh, how I loved free WiFi. And now, it's all over.

"Cafes... have always been venues for conspicuous contemplation... places to read Camus’ most obscure collections of essays, places to doodle evocatively in your large Moleskin notebook."

Free WiFi users wreck the hip LoFi ambiance of the coffeehouse in Greg Beato's brain.


(Photo by John Althouse Cohen)

WiFi networks names are trying to scare you "Imunder-yourbed," "normanbates," "bedroomspy"...

... or tell you something "Turndownyourmusic,""stopsmokingweed"....

"We had a neighbor who my roommate John had a crush on, so I changed our Wi-Fi name to 'JohnwantsSarah'"...

At the Caffeine Dealer.

Truth-telling, hippie-style signage...



We ordered some great food here and took a number...



... outside, we had black coffee and WiFi...



Cement sentiment...



Highly recommended! The Bouldin Creek Coffeehouse.

Thanks to Google for the free WiFi gift.

Here at the Madison Airport, where — I might add — security was handled really well. It was better, more organized than before. People had to wait in the line — which wasn't long — so that we went through the boarding pass/ID check more slowly and with some deliberate though unobtrusive personal contact. That meant I had the tables to myself to get my stuff properly arranged in the various busing tubs, with one person (Meade) eventually catching up to me. It wasn't really noticeably slower, just more orderly and careful. I liked not having to feel that I needed to hurry to avoid delaying other people. After the metal detector, I got the pat-down. Meade didn't. Why? I am wearing a long skirt.

February, 2009 — Part 2 in a 12-part blog series.

1. I scan 2 photos of me in the 1970s.

2. "WiFi on airplanes. What's the downside? Terrorists coordinating things? The fact that the mere suggestion of terrorists coordinating things has me instantly eagerly ready to have the government monitor anything sent to or from an airline laptop? Come on, we let them X-ray the intimate items our bags and look at us in that machine that lets them see us naked. And you know how ridiculous you look naked but with your invisible clothes squishing your body into the dressed shape? Or do you think you look better that way, what with your Spanx and your push-up brassiere? I'm thinking of belts and waistbands. So, come on, WiFi on airplanes. It will be great...."

3. "I would rather do the right thing and have 1 term than be mediocre and have 2."

4. I leaned out the bedroom window to capture the moonset.

5. "Speaking of Japan my neighbor was in Japan and everywhere he went Japanese people yelled Yes We Can at him. I guess because he is an American. He said this lasted an entire week. Restaurants, stores, on the street, everywhere, Yes We Can. How scary."

6. "I, however, as a man am an exception to the rule: I love purple. In fact, I wear a purple hat and a purple scarf. Men leave me alone while women can't seem to keep their hands off me. That is, as long as I wear the hat and scarf."

7. "For the love of God, people, be careful. If you're going to take any risks, I hope it's worth it for you." = What I said the day I fell in love.

8. "Nobody has to be ashamed of being a Hoosier."

9. The Rainbow Connection.

"Commenting from a mountaintop: we are still sitting on the rock where we exchanged rings, and now we are married."

My comment, at 3:59 today, Central Time (though we are on Mountain Time), in the post "We're here in Colorado not just for the scenery, but for the law," which read: "What is the law we love so much — this beautiful example of the benefits of federalism? I will tell you soon!"

The first commenter there, reader_Iam, instantly got the answer:

Are you wanting to solemnize your own marriage, as opposed to having an officiant required?

Yes, in Colorado:

Couples themselves may solemnize their own marriage (perform one's own marriage ceremony). According to Colorado Revised Statute 14-2-109, a marriage may be solemnized by a judge of a court; by a court magistrate; by a retired judge of the court; by a public official whose powers include solemnization of marriages; by Indian tribe officials; by clergy; by the parties to the marriage. If you wish to solemnize your own marriage, you will be responsible for acquiring, completing and returning the license to marry to the appropriate county Office of the Clerk and Recorder.

And that's just what we did. This afternoon, we drove from our hotel in Bachelor Gulch to the Office of the Clerk and Recorder in Eagle County, where we showed our driver's licenses, answered a few questions, paid $30 cash, and got a license that empowered us to marry each other. We drove up Bellyache Ridge — just the 2 of us — where we did things our way and solemnized the marriage on our own. Then, we did the additional red tape — filling out the bottom of the Certificate of Marriage and handing it back to the county official who'd asked us the questions earlier. And now, we're here at Yeti's Grind on Broadway, in Eagle, eating our first food (sandwiches) and drinking our first drink (mango smoothies) as husband and wife. And we're both on the WiFi.

One thing I love about American federalism is that — subject to the limitations of national law — individual states can do things their own way, and we can move around finding the law we like. We decided against marrying in Madison, because under Wisconsin law, not only do you need to pay $125 or so for the license and then go get a minister or a judge to perform the wedding — you have to wait 6 days between getting the license and doing the wedding. What's that all about? It's insulting, not to mention avaricious. We went west, out of the grip of a paternalistic state, for greater freedom and individuality.

And, yes, we think same-sex couples should also have the right to marry. You'll have to travel somewhere other than Colorado if that's the freedom you want. We traveled and got what we wanted, and obviously, we have the additional benefit of getting a marriage that will be recognized everywhere. I hope the day will come when the Coloradan attitude that favored us will smile on gay people too. But for now, I'm just really happy to be married in Colorado, on Bellyache Ridge, with just me and Meade on the scene. Aptly, it turned out that there was a big old cell phone tower on top of the ridge, so we texted and emailed and telephoned.

And I made a blog comment — a comment, not a post, because that's where I found my dear husband, in the comments.

Reason for the late start to blogging this morning.

The Farmers Market. $45 spent on perhaps 12 items, including 2 different tomato purchases. And cheese curds, which we are now squeaking our way through at a State Street café, along with a second dose of coffee... and today's first dose of WiFi.

"Satan is content in letting us profess Christianity."

"As long as we don't practice it."



Canah Chapel, Freewill Baptist Church, is in Erwin, Tennessee.

But we weren't there either to profess or practice Christianity. We went here...



... to pee, drink coffee, and access the internet. Satan let us do all that, but we don't know whether or not he was content. I understand why Satan — if he existed — would be happy to see folks professing but not practicing Christianity. I think he wouldn't care one way or the other about urination, but that he'd be pleased to see us drinking coffee, even as I think God gave us coffee in the hope that, energized, we'd turn to the good.

As for the internet, I'd say it depends on which websites you go to, and the subtle preferences of God and Satan are unknowable to us, but perhaps they are both keeping track of the entire history of all of our website visits and that we'll be called to account in the end.

But it was not the golden arches anymore than the cross that got us to take that exit. It was the sign for the Andrew Johnson National Historic Site. But then another sign said it was 31 miles away, and Satan made us go to McDonald's instead. This morning — the morning after — I sorrowfully regret not making the pilgrimage to the dishonored President's place of honor.

"Want to go back?" Meade says. No, no, we've gone too far ahead. We got all the way to Berea, Kentucky last night, where we walked around until night fell...

Hello, from the road.

Somewhere in Indiana...



We're not even halfway to our goal today, but we needed to stop on an important mission and then again for some coffee and WiFi. In the car, we partook of some of the Sotomayorganza, but that got old after an hour or so. I had my notebook on my lap, and I wrote... I mean authored:

"wrote... authored..."

That was at 9:25 CT, when Sotomayor was in the middle of talking about some Ginsburg opinion. SS had already voiced the word "wrote" and then she changed it to "authored," as if "wrote" was a mistake. I know there are people who think "wrote" and then make a point to say "authored" — and do all sorts of other hoity-toity substitutions — but, jeez, if the simple world has already slipped out, move on. Don't let people hear that you do that.

Not that it's disqualifying or anything. Just something that made me want to write in my notebook, back in Wisconsin a few hours ago. Now, as I said, we are in Indiana.

A cute little girl walks up to our table and stares. I say hi. She thinks a bit, then says, "Y'all got 2 computers?!" I say, yeah. She's all, "How'd you get that?" I say, we just got 'em, as her dad/older brother shoos her along.

Back to my Sotomayor notes.

strategy: boring us to death

+ avoiding creating highlights for the nightly news

no one has ever said "precedent" so many times in a confirmation hearing

And I remember saying something like: "She's talking about precedent so much because it's her way to nullify anything that she ever did as a Court of Appeals judge. She did it because of precedent, so she's not really responsible for anything." But there's room to maneuver within the limitations of precedent, and in the things that she did — while citing precedent — we can perceive her leanings, and we quite properly want to know what her leanings are.

Other techniques she's using: speaking very slowly, laying out the basics of case law, and repeating the most innocuous platitudes about judging.

We switched over to the satellite radio. 60s on 6. "Mrs. Robinson," then The Happenings doing one of those quasi-pedophilia-type songs that no one would do anymore ("Go away little girl..."). Click to 80s on 8. "Rock the Casbah." The 80s sometimes beat the 60s. Not often, but sometimes.

We switch off the radio, and I read the comments to the baseball pitch post out loud:

Paul Zrimsek said — paren — "Placeholder for a thousand words of bafflegab involving depth of field and photo-editing software, somehow proving that Obama threw a perfect strike" — close paren. Ha ha. I would front page that.

Later, we get back to the Sotomayorganza, and it's Al Franken at last. He's talking about himself again, saying something that we start parodying: Here I am, Al Franken, a Senator, talking to you, Sonia Sotomayor; we are here, in the Senate, and I am talking and you are talking. Check the transcript and you'll see. He's in this inane "I am a Senator" mode, and he's breaking all records for using the word "I." He bumbles through pointless questions detailing cases and revealing he knows next to nothing about actual Supreme Court cases. He ends his segment by asking Sotomayor: What's the title of the "Perry Mason" episode where Perry Mason lost a case? This gives Sonia a chance to giggle a bit in a human manner — after being ploddingly robotic all day. She doesn't know the title, and it turns out Al doesn't either, which baffles old man Leahy.

Time to close up the MacBooks and hit the road again.

"Yawn. Hipster dud bookseller hates his customers. What’s new?"

You go to all that trouble to elaborate numerous categories and subcategories of people and that's what you get for your first comment? Life is harsh!

Well, there's some interesting detail in those categories (along with some boring humor — e.g. "a $4 half-soy-half-decaf-latte-with-a-shot-of-pretention").

I found that 7 types of bookstore customer post via an Ezra Klein tweet. Ezra parks himself in the category "Browser."

I think there's an 8th category, into which I'd put myself. "Reminiscer." This is someone who used to hang around bookstores all the time and leave with a pile of miscellaneous books, but now drops in only occasionally, looks around, and remembers when she didn't spent nearly all of her reading time on line. Now, all those book covers look like front pages of websites. She might click on a few — i.e. open them up and read a few lines, maybe even a few pages — and then she contemplates the way she used to feel that she needed to make these blocky objects into personal possessions and proceed through them systematically, front to back. Then she shakes off that reverie and goes somewhere else, somewhere where the WiFi is free.

Me and Phil Specter on Twitter.

I just did 2 Instapundit posts about Twitter:

I TWEETED TWEETING. Twitter gets to your brain. In think it’s made me more Instapundit-y this go-round subbing for Glenn. Lord knows how he got so concise and spontaneous, pre-Twitter, but we’re all catching up.

Posted at 6:46 am by Ann Althouse

“MUSICALLY, IKE WAS BY FAR THE GREATER OF THE TURNERS.” Tweeted, by Phil Spector. Response #1: Nervy to say that — given Tina’s story of domestic abuse — when you’re in prison for shooting a woman to death. Response #2: If I knew I’d get a laptop and WiFi in prison, my calculation about whether to commit crimes would change radically.

Posted at 6:45 am by Ann Althouse

Copied here to get things started and so you can comment.

ADDED: Phil Spector tweets here. You can see he's only following one person. It's Yoko Ono. Think about it.

AND: "Finished reading The Book Of The Damned. About to write an angry letter to the governer demanding that they return my wig."

UPDATE: The clever Tweeter confesses he's an impostor — and adds that Twitter should learn a lesson from this. Well, you can't expect Twitter to catch impostors the instant they start, and obviously, people are going to pose as various celebrities and near-celebrities. I've had impostors myself. The important thing is to react when it is called to their attention. For example, I've complained about impostors twice. Facebook responded. Sadly, No (a blog) insisted on keeping the impostors.

How can one computer kick another computer off the WiFi?

Maybe someone can help me with this. I have several computers, but I like using my MacBook Air around this house. It works fine with the WiFi here when I'm the only one on, but if the other person uses his MacBook (the original MacBook), it breaks my connection. Using the Network Diagnostics application, I can restore my connection, but it will break again, perhaps the every time the other user clicks from one website to another. If I get on one of my older laptops, I don't have the problem. My own old MacBook (original MacBook) interferes with my Air exactly the same way. When we're at our other house, I don't have this problem. I also have this problem at some cafés but not others.

How can this happen, and what could fix it?

WiFi on airplanes. What's the downside?

Terrorists coordinating things? The fact that the mere suggestion of terrorists coordinating things has me instantly eagerly ready to have the government monitor anything sent to or from an airline laptop? Come on, we let them X-ray the intimate items our bags and look at us in that machine that lets them see us naked. And you know how ridiculous you look naked but with your invisible clothes squishing your body into the dressed shape? Or do you think you look better that way, what with your Spanx and your push-up brassiere? I'm thinking of belts and waistbands. So, come on, WiFi on airplanes. It will be great. The time once spent doing that crap crossword in the in-flight magazine and snoozing to a half-heard audiobook will feel just like all those hours you willingly sit in your desk chair on a beautiful warm February day when you could be out traipsing around your beautiful city.