The Dunces spent the past week gallivanting around England with the Dunce parents, hence the lack of recent updates. For our travels we were issued a brand new hire car with three miles on the clock; we brought it back with just under 900. Not bad for a long weekend; in this country that sort of mileage can be considered quite respectable. Yes, I know in other countries 900 miles would be considered a long day on the road.

Today is their last day in town and I've crept off to the lab to do a little work. And being very effective at it, as you can see from this entry. Business as usual, then.

It's 43 hours and counting until the Dunce parents arrive for their first visit to London and the UK. Preparations are being made to ensure their maximum well-being and entertainment pleasure. We have sourced the finest drugs the underworld has to offer, made arrangements with exotic entertainers of all sorts, and put together a 24/7 clubbing itinerary that will eclipse even those legendary raves from back in the day. They've both expressed some concerns that our fair city will be unable to meet the demands of their high-flying party lifestyle, and to be honest we aren't sure either. Fortunately the cat has agreed to be on her best behavior, so at least there's that.

The news coverage of H5N1 THE DEADLY STRAIN OF BIRD FLU has now gone into high gear with the discovery of the first known case in the UK. A dead swan was found floating around Cellardyke (a town in east Scotland, stop the sniggering you in the back!). In previous times I believe the focus upon swan deaths would focus upon (a) whether the swan was royal property, and (b) who should be beheaded as punishiment. Now it's all about the DEADLY STRAIN OF BIRD FLU, and indeed, testing revealed that this bird has kicked the bucket, shuffled off his mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisible. From the DEADLY STRAIN OF BIRD FLU no less. And how is the population of the UK responding? Hysterically! This morning I saw no fewer than 100 people commuting to work inside plastic bubbles. Council workers clad in HazMat suits are gathering up local birds in giant nets and burning them in local churches which have all been converted into special ultra-high heat incinerators (as a nice additional benefit, the cold weather seems to be a thing of the past). Giant domes are being built over most cities as well, as fast as the various construction companies can proceed: when the project was started yesterday, the target completion date was the day after tomorrow. This has now slightly changed, to early 2021. In the meantime, military snipers are on patrol in most cities, with orders to shoot any entity seen outdoors more than two feet off the ground. Unfortunately these orders failed to consider the possibility that a significant number of non-avian individuals might also be found off the ground. As a result there have been numerous tragic deaths of roofers, window-washers, trampolinists, and passengers riding in the upper decks of double-decker buses. Not to mention all the problems around the airports.

So if you're reading this, and you're a bird, TAKE NOTICE! This is a war and you can't make southern fried chicken without cracking a few eggs.

A few weeks ago I started keeping the various pieces of junk/advertising that have been shoved through our mail slot (first post here), and now that two more weeks of junk have built up, it's time to see what it looks like again. Last time the mail slot was dominated by restaurants' delivery menus, but in the past two weeks we only received four more menus (three for pizza places [one of which featured kebabs on equal billing], one for miscellaneous Oriental). None of which look remotely good (although I was amused at all the spelling errors on the "Basil Pizza" menu. Fata cheese, read onion and vagetable lasagne indeed. You'd think they'd check the spelling given all the money they're spending on their menus).

This time the most prolific category was in home services. I count the three cards from the same taxi service as three items, therefore giving a total of 11 home service offerings. These included satellite TV, a "local & reliable window cleaner", a company offering to cut our utility bills by a lot, a telephone company, a catalog from a DIY shop, a freight/courier company ("we offer our services very efficiently and courteously that 99% of our customers keep coming back with the same testimony", and "the Quality of our services endears us to ALL." although I am not sure how these are quantified. Their flyer advertises rates to Nigeria, Ghana, and Others on request), and an estate agent who seems to have our street wrapped up. But the big winner in the "selling through fear" sweepstakes is the London Gate Company of Chigwell whose flyer shrieks (not literally, but just about) "WHY WAIT TO BE BURGLED?" (obvious follow-up "...WHEN YOU CAN BE ROBBED STRAIGHT AWAY?").

There were three items of political content (local elections are coming soon). In addition to "The Londoner", a monthly newspaper (20 pages this month) from the beloved Red Ken, Mayor of London, the Conservatives have been out on foot in the neighborhood, (perhaps) vainly trying to shake loose the entrenched Labour council. In a genteel and measured manner, of course ("It's a two-horse race, and Labour is the Donkey!" and so on). I'm sure we'll see more of these in the next month; we'll just have to see who does the most footwork.

Only a few pieces of self-improvement junk post this time. Two were very brightly colored and of a religious nature, advertising the Joyous Hour of Worship at the Redeemed Christian Church of God at the Lord's Sanctuary (opposite Argos Stores). Heavily Nigerian judging from the names (and perhaps the fact that they offer services in Yoruba. On the other hand they also feature Portuguese; I'm not quite sure where that fits in). But the last was an especially good one: a high-quality multi-color flyer from a home learning college. Prominently featuring the phrase I'm looking for when making my educational choices, "AS SEEN ON TV". It also features a statement that all successful students are referred to a (particular) recruitment agency. All I can say is, sign me up!

Score so far: 21 days, 30 pieces of advertising.
Total amount spent by the Dunces based on letterbox advertising: £0.

An ongoing series about my love of books.

As I don't recall at all, I started reading at a very early age (surely quite impaired by my terrible vision, as I didn't have glasses yet). There were stacks and stacks of books of all sorts in our house (a TV-free zone, although I vaguely remember an unused TV hanging around in the basement), and I know I was an avid reader from the beginning. The first book I actually remember reading today was Go, Dog, Go!. I thought it was hysterically funny to see the pictures of wild dogs wearing hip duds and driving fast cars towards some sort of dog-only Woodstock-in-a-giant-tree really kept my interest, and I always wished I could some day go to a similar party in a tree.

I also really liked to read my father's Pogo books, although for some reason I failed to recognize any of the references to the Nixon administration, or to any other historical figures for that matter. To me they were just some unusual comics about a group of rural, swamp-dwelling animals who got into various comic antics as they floated around the swamp in flat-bottomed boats (e.g. the poor alligator who was always suspected of eating other characters. Sometimes justly as I vaguely recall).

I was also a fan of joke books from a very young age, and ran into certain problems as I was keen to pass on these jokes even when I didn't quite understand what they were about. One of the few examples I can remember falls into this category, and is also an excellent indicator of the historical period I'm talking about (it's also just as funny today as it was then!):
Q: What's giant, purple and swims in the ocean?
A: Moby Grape!
I think I also caused some inadvertent household controversy when I came across a really unusual and funny joke book the likes of which I'd never seen before. It definitely belonged to my father (a fan of subtle, intelligent humor of all sorts). I can still clearly remember the one I proudly told to my mother:
"Mommy, mommy, can we go for a ride?"
"Shut up, your iron lung won't fit in the Volkswagen."
For some reason, she didn't think it was very funny. And the next time I went to the high shelf to look for the joke book, it had disappeared. Must have gotten lost or something. In my teenage years I amassed quite a collection of sick joke books (mostly in the "Truly Tasteless Jokes" series), but they had a similarly unfortunate tendency to evaporate into thin air, even when stashed in fairly secure hiding places.

Unfortunately, my joke-book-reading tendencies were to a large extent inspired by reading various fictional tales of comedically-blessed, precocious children who always managed to have a giant circle of friends and were constantly the center of attention with their wise-cracking antics. I usually found myself in very diffferent circumstances, and drew the unfortunate conclusion that I just hadn't yet found the right jokes to draw the crowds. So (with the aid of a healthy "humor" section in the public library), I worked my way through the various genres without success. Knock-knock jokes just didn't sit well with anyone (thank goodness I didn't completely remember the one from the above-mentioned disappearing joke book: "Knock, knock"; "Who's there?"; "Nazis"; "Nazis who?"; [and the punchline was something to do with Anne Frank. I'm sure that would have gone down a treat with the under-10 audience]), nor did riddles, cross jokes (there are more than 90,000 Google hits for "what do you get when you cross a * with a")), light bulb jokes (would you believe 295,000 Google hits for "how many * does it take to change a light bulb"?!), puns, funny headlines, shaggy dog stories, and don't even get me started on limericks (Very underappreciated by elementary school teachers, I should say. Especially if they feature islands south of Cape Cod).

A memo was circulated recently by the anonymous educational institute next door to my workplace, concerning upcoming construction works that apparently may be so disruptive as to cause, erm, significant issues of a personal nature:

FOR YOUR INFORMATION:

...To confirm that scaffolding will be erected to the side of (Anonymous) building, on the Service Road Exit ramp, on Wednesday 12 April;

Repair work carried out on Thursday 13 April, and the Scaffolding dismantled and removed on Good Friday 14 April 2006....

The (Anonymous) Institute apologies for any incontinence caused while this necessary maintenance work is carried out.

Thank you for your assistance in this matter.

I've neglected writing about reading too long on this blog, especially since I'm such a book fanatic. Today starts a series of posts about me and books (although we'll see how long I stick to the idea). I'll start with a snapshot of the current moment when it comes to reading.

In general, the amount of time I spend reading is inversely proportional to the amount of time I spend cycling. This is especially related to my commute (it's very easy to read on the bus, and very difficult to read on the bike). Lately I've been riding a lot, so I've been reading much less. Not to say I haven't been reading; my most recent books are as follows:

David Lee Roth's autobiography, Crazy from the Heat. I'm not much of a musician/memoir reader; this one was lent to me by a friend and served an excellent role as toilet reading. In general, Amazon reviewers thought this book was wonderful (average rating: 4.5/5 stars). I found it shockingly incoherent and full of Mr. Roth's giant ego (I must admit, occasionally amusing). It was apparently edited down from thousands of pages; I can't imagine what it was like before the editing process. However, this made it ideal as a toilet read: as the tales he relates don't seem to be in any particular order, and tend to fade from one tale into the next without resolution, one need not adjust the duration of one's transactions to correspond with chapters, narrative units, etc.

Iain Sinclair's Lights Out for the Territory. An excellent counterpoint to the Roth biography which I read in more public places. This one also contains its share of incoherent ramblings, but they're all inspired by Sinclair's psychogeopgraphical journeys around London, and it's full of interesting London characters, obscure locations, objects and events which together make up a sort of London mythology. Each of the sections follows the author on a hike in London, and no detail is too minor to set him off on a string of associations about the area, its people, its mood, and how all of them may have changed as time goes by. His approach to exploring the area resonates with me quite a bit, although my inclinations toward interpretation are substantially less grandiose. (Amazon reviews: average 4/5 stars)

David Foster Wallace's Consider the Lobster and other essays. I'm a huge fan of DFW, whose Infinite Jest is one of my favorite books of all time. His short stories, on the other hand, have been largely disappointing (and let's not even go into Everything and More: A Compact History of Infinity which is infuriating in its unholy union of chatty ramblings about like the greatest math teacher ever and just how cool he was, and (fairly) well put together mathematical content), and I found his previous book of essays A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again mixed: I really really enjoyed the title essay, in which DFW recounts a decidedly unfun experience on a luxury cruise, and also his account of visiting the Illinois State Fair [featuring an incident of overeating sufficiently severe to require medical attention], but others on more highbrow sujects were less memorable/interesting. The same can be said about this one: the essays I enjoyed most were those that revolved around DFW's personal experiences in various situations (Adult Video News awards ceremony; traveling on the John McCain bus during his 2000 Presidential campaign; watching the events of Sept 11 2001 with neighbors in Bloomington, IL). There was also an excellent piece on Tracy Austin's autobiography and how unsatisfied DFW was with its lack of meaningful content (mirroring my own complaints about the massive number of interviews with successful ath(a)letes who just go on and on about doing it for the team, and sucking it up when the heat's on, and giving 110%, and just pulling together like a unit and getting things done, ad infinitum). The title piece was written for Gourmet magazine about the Maine Lobster Festival, and had DFW's characteristic interesting observations about the event itself, before mutating into DFW's opinions about the ethics of lobster preparation and so on (yawn... I've read more of this sort of stuff than I care to acknowledge, and it feels like more of an individual decision at this level). An assortment of hifalutin articles that I sorta skipped over (Dostoevsky, Kafka), and an essay about correct English language usage which has had the fur flying for quite a while (for example, see Language Hat's post "David Foster Wallace Demolished" [scroll down]; google snoot wallace if you want to read more about this particular topic. I have a few opinions on the subject myself but have run out of time to say much for now). Oh yeah, I have to mention the final essay in the book. It was a reasonably-decent discussion of talk radio in the US (and why it's like it is), terribly, terribly marred by inline "footnotes" in boxes (not necessarily corresponding to their narrative location) which broke up the text, were connected to their relevant section by arrows (and sometimes multiple arrows). It was just about impossible to read, a shame because the content was quite good (why? why? why not just stick with standard footnoting, with which DFW is quite well acquainted I can assure you. Apparently when it originally appeared in The Atlantic the notes were formatted in a more agreeable and readable way.).

So that's what I've just read now. Next time, some influential books or events involving books from my youth.

Saturday was really the first day of Spring, as the weather had suddenly shot up from just-above-freezing to well into the teens (C, ie, ~60F). So it was nice to take a bike ride without loads of layers. In order to avoid loads of pedestrians and wobbly rusty bicycles on the riverside paths, I headed north through some lovely urban landscapes, which at least featured decent cycle lanes which were separated from the busy road. Since I didn't bring my camera this time, I'll have to rely on overhead imagery from Google Maps. First, a nice overhead view illustrating the urban landscape, complete with cycle lane (the light red path just to the right of the north-south road). And the kind of scenery you see a lot of: filtration pools, giant muffin tins, and freight yards. It's actually pretty nice to ride in these areas on the weekend because there's so little traffic around the industrial zones (excepting the giant shopping mecca which includes a huge 24-hour Tesco and an Ikea). Especially when you're heading north, being propelled by a brisk (~15-20mph) south wind (experienced cyclists will note that there could be a flaw in this logic). After not so long, however, the cycle lane just plain ended.

Rather than join the throngs of cars on the major highway, I decided to backtrack a bit, then rode about a half mile east where I joined the familiar towpath along the River Lea. There were far fewer pedestrians and rusty, wobbly cycles than I had worried, possibly because the weather looked vaguely threatening. So it was a very pleasant, rather undisturbed ride. I was also far enough north that the riverside environment was much less industrial, featuring instead sights like canal locks, farms, and, er, an army of giant insectlike robots ready to invade London. At this point (well outside of the M25, north of Waltham Abbey), the Lea Valley Park opened up, with loads of paths wandering around the various manmade lakes. Some were (mostly) paved, others were muddy and sandy. Fortunately they were wide enough that a rather deranged cyclist could share them with assorted birdwatchers without any physical contact. I should note here that cyclists seem to be the mortal enemies of birdwatchers, but fortunately the latter are a peaceful sort, limiting their signs of displeasure to tutting and shaking their heads disapprovingly.

At this point I'd gone about 14 miles (in not quite an hour; an excellent pace for city riding), and decided it was time to turn back. Suddenly I realized the error of my ways as I was riding straight into the blustery south wind that had brought the springtime weather and made my northward ride so easy. A mountain bike does not exactly offer many possibilities for minimizing head-on wind resistance, and for a few moments I considered heading off course towards the nearest train station and taking the easy way home. Eventually my miserly tendencies won out over fatigue, and I continued on my not-so-merry way. I decided to stick to the canal/riverside path which seemed the most direct and the most sheltered from the wind (the latter may have just been dead wrong, as the river seemed to channel the wind rather than diverting or blocking it.). My pace on the return was just below 10mph, and my legs had turned to jelly by the time I made it home. A mere fifteen minutes before the skies really opened up.

On Wednesday Mrs. Dunce and I went to the nearby London Drinker beer festival. Our visits to other London beer festivals in recent history (Great British Beer Festival last summer, Battersea Beer Festival in February) have been somewhat less than ideal as we chose to attend the Friday evening session, along with thousands of other like-minded souls who had no doubt been working for the weekend. Both previous festivals seemed impressively overcrowded (I might point out here that I do suffer from a teeny bit of anxiety among crowds of people), and even worse, the selection of drink was seriously reduced by the time Friday rolled around (I think both of these festivals started on Wednesday). At the Battersea festival we were reduced to mopping up various liquids on the floor and wringing the mop into our glasses (or at least, reduced to drinking FOREIGN beer because all the British ales, ciders and perries were long gone). So we decided that our visit to the London Drinker would be on Wednesday, the first night rather than the last.

Unfortunately even on a Wednesday it was quite crowded (exacerbated by the number of wise souls who clustered at the serving areas to enjoy their drinks, rather than moving along so that others could be served). Worse, it seemed like the festival organizers had adopted a slow-release approach to the drinks on offer; it seemed like half (or less) of the beers listed in the guide (LIST link) were actually available. Good for visitors later in the week, not so good for us (Mrs. Dunce was particularly sad that the Damson Porter (official link, one review) by Burton Bridge was not on offer). We did, however, come across quite a few beers that we really enjoyed. It seemed like there were a lot more dark beers than lighter ones, and a real boom in milds on offer (mild has seen quite a renaissance recently. Here's a general description and some examples).

Our vote for the winner was one of the milds:Pig on the Wall Mild although I also enjoyed the Malt Shovel Mild quite a bit. My real favorite was from the FOREIGN department (maybe I shouldn't admit this while my application for British nationality is being considered): a German smoked beer, Schlenkerla Bock Rauchbier. There were quite a few rauchbiers on offer, which I take as an enouraging development.

We left fairly early -- it was just too crowded. But we can hardly take the less-crowded alternative (the festivals are usually also open for lunchtime/afternoon sessions) as our employers may not appreciate this sort of behavior.

Just about every day, some sort of advertising material gets stuffed through our mail slot. It's mostly adverts for restaurants that deliver to the area, but all sorts of other things appear as well. The only way to deliver this sort of advertising material is on foot, and I wondered just how much of it we're getting, and how effective it is at targeting the Dunce household as customers. Starting last week, I began saving these adverts and keeping track of them. It's been a cold week, temperatures hovering not far above freezing, so I expected a lower yield than usual. After the first week, here's how it looks.

As expected, the majority (6) were for restaurants offering home delivery. Three Indian restaurants, two pizza places (including the home of the BLT pizza, "No. 1 in USA"), and one Chinese. One of the Indian restaurant menus went into the "food drawer" for consideration on the rare occasions we order food at home, as we still haven't come across any places that deliver to our house and are any good at all.

Of the others, two fall into the "self-help" category, offering the kind of help that isn't really appreciated by the Dunces who are both gainfully employed and have no big ideas about starting a business ("Whether you want to set up as a fashion designer, recording studio or market stall trader [company name] can HELP YOU!" and "We can help you develop the skills and confidence to find employment""). And the last is one of those quasi-charitable-but-actually-commercial clothing collection "services", Silverwall Ltd., "a collection company who provide people in third world countries with clothes for their families they can afford". Yes, they collect clothes so they can sell them in third world countries. Interestingly, a google search for this company name yielded one lonely result: a person whose efforts at cataloguing "letterbox spam" puts my first week to shame (link).

Score so far: 7 days, 9 pieces of advertising.
Total amount spent by the Dunces based on letterbox advertising: £0.

In the big city, it's quite uncommon to come across someone whistling a cheery tune. So it was quite a surprise this weekend when we were riding on the upper deck of a #253 bus, and happened to hear a very familiar tune not typically associated with London. Someone on the lower deck of the bus was whistling the classic American folk song"Turkey in the Straw"*. When we exited I looked around for someone meeting my mental image of "someone likely to whistle 'Turkey in the Straw'" (perhaps a barefoot rube clad in overhauls [sic] and maybe even a straw hat, perhaps a Civil War veteran, perhaps one of those modern folk revivalists**) but there was no such person in sight. As it turned out, the mystery whistler was the bus driver. Quite a change from the usual surly-driver experience (although he did have a heavy foot on the brakes).

*a tune that is occasionally played by British ice-cream vans for some odd reason.

**The song has moved quite far from the performance style that originally popularized it in the early 19th century: blackface minstrel shows. Thank goodness.

The DCAL Centre's new website is now up and running. Guess who has by far the worst staff photo? Mrs. Dunce suggested that I should pose in the "traditional high school football manner" which I frequently seem to adopt when I am forced to pose for a picture. This involves looking very stern, puffing my chest out and raising my chin so that it looks like I have no neck (resulting pictures also somewhat resemble mug shots). Sadly this advice didn't come in time; it probably would have resulted in a better photo.

There's a new cola beverage being advertised in these parts lately. As the Pepsi website puts it, this product is an answer to a dilemma that I am sure is not being faced by millions of Brits daily: "Most difficult question of the day--cola or coffee?". The solution to this frequently-nonexperienced dilemma is now available thanks to Pepsi: Pepsi Max Cino, "The UK's first ever coffee-flavoured cola". As an open-minded fan of beverages of all sorts, I had to try one as soon as I saw it on sale. Wow. I've not had such an unpleasant beverage experience since my run-in with brussels sprout flavored Thanksgiving soda from Jones. The Pepsi Max Cino had a sickly-sweet flavor (it's sugar-free, but has far too much artificial sweetners), and the coffee and cola flavors did not exactly get along together. It tasted highly medicinal, and I wasn't able to drink much more than the optimistically large mouthful I eventually managed to choke down. Next time I have to face the aforementioned most difficult question of the day and am unable to come to a decision, I think I'll do any coffee/cola mixing myself.

Come to think of it, maybe I didn't like it just because I often drink flavored coffee. Maybe they just need to add another flavor: my suggestion would be Pepsi Max Cino + Hazelnut.

The past week or two have been really busy as we prepare for the launch of the new research centre where I am gainfully employed. This week is National Science Week so it's a very sensible time to launch a major new centre. The launch also (very nearly) coincides with the third anniversary of the British government's formal recognition of BSL as a language in its own right (18 March 2003; press release from the RNID, official government statement).*

To give you an idea of what the centre is all about, here is the official press release announcing the Centre award. I will be working primarily on projects related to language processing in signed and spoken languages (ok, not ALL signed and spoken languages, but starting off with BSL and English). More on that once the projects are actually underway -- at the moment I'm doing a lot of work wrapping up an assortment of previous projects.


*I should note that official recognition of BSL does not mean that BSL is an official language of the UK. Only that the government has recognized that BSL is a "real language". BSL is still not mentioned on the UK DirectGov pages concerning official languages, even though it's indisputably a British language, with thousands of native signers living in the country. So what is mentioned? English, Welsh, Scots Gaelic are definitely official (when we took the "Life in the UK" test, we were given the option of taking it in any of these three languages). The DirectGov page also gives space to Cornish, even though the last native Cornish speaker apparently died in 1777, and thus it can really be considered only a historical curiosity rather than a true language (check out this excellent post on Language Log for more info about the case of Cornish).

Lately I've been listening to a lot of music on pandora.com. Unlike most online radio stations, it allows users to design their own customized stations, not by explicitly selecting the albums, tracks or artists that are being played, but instead by designating a few favorite bands or songs. Since 2000 they have been working on the Music Genome Project which is a careful analysis of individual songs' musical properties; these musical properties are used to create playlists on Pandora. So if you select a favorite band as a starting point, Pandora will start you off with a song that is representative of that band's musical style, and then will continue playing similar songs on this customized "radio station". Importantly, you have the opportunity to give a thumbs-up or thumbs-down to any song (thumbs-down also fast-forwards to the next song); these ratings serve to fine-tune your preferences (for example, if you give a thumbs-down to every song featuring a saxophone, the number of sax songs will quickly dwindle to nothing. You can also add additional artists or songs to a radio station at any time; "adding" in this way is weighted much more heavily than a mere thumbs-up. It's presented as a great way to learn about new music (serving as a recomendation service: "If you love ______, you may like _____", complete with convenient links to buy tracks through iTunes or CDs through Amazon). I haven't discovered many "new" artists myself. I like this system instead because it does such a good job in general at playing a coherent mix of things that I like (it seems to be a little unpredictable if you choose artists that are extremely diverse).

To give an idea of how this works, I'm starting a new station right now, based on the Japanese psychedelic noise guitar band (my description, anyway) Acid Mothers Temple (hereafter, "AMT"). A little bit outside my normal listening world although I really like what I've heard from them. One cool thing about Pandora is that it also gives an explanation of why songs are being played. The first track, "Suzi Sixteen" (by AMT) is being played "because it features electronica influences, punk influences, the use of experimental sounds, paired vocal harmony and extensive vamping".

2. After that, the next track is "I was no longer his dominant (remix)" by Nurse with Wound (I've never heard of them). The musical description "why is this song playing?" is very similar: "it features electronica influences, punk influences, the use of experimental sounds, extensive vamping and mixed minor & major key tonality". It's not really my thing (a long rambling spoken word sample with minimal electronic background music) so it was a thumbs-down.

3. Next was "UK Theatre" by The Mountaineers (another band I've never heard of). It's a major switch from Nurse with Wound: much more guitar oriented and much less electronic. The description is a little vague: "electronica influences, acoustic rhythm guitars, and many other similarities identified in the music genome project". My previous playlists of various sorts have already identified my proclivity for acoustic rhythm guitars (something I wasn't aware of, although now that I think about it, sure!). Not good enough for a thumbs up, but definite no thumbs-down.

4. "Tears in the Typing Pool" by Broadcast (I have heard of them but can't say much more). Sure enough, the acoustic rhythm guitars stick around, along with paired vocal harmony (back to AMT again), and mixed minor & major key tonality. Another decent song (again not quite worth a thumbs-up); it doesn't seem much like AMT to me.

5. "The Dark, Magical Sea" by Karl Blau. I'd heard Karl Blau before but wasn't especially excited, but this song worked for me. Selected for "mellow rock instrumentation, a subtle use of vocal harmony, a vocal-centric aesthetic, extensive vamping and major key tonality." And there's another prominent feature in my musical preferences according to Pandora, "extensive vamping". I'd fully agree. This one gets a thumbs up.

6. "Sea of Dead", Robert Pollard (from Guided by Voices). I already know this song and I really like it; I wouldn't have drawn a connection from AMT but there it is. It was chosen for "mellow rock instrumentation, meandering melodic phrasing, major key tonality, acoustic rhythm guitars" (as well as "many other similarities identified in the music genome project" [MOSIITMGP]). A quick thumbs-up for sure.

7. "A Fire in the Forest" by David Sylvian. Ordinarily I might be inclined to give David Sylvian a quick thumbs-down without hearing the song but I thought I'd give this one a bit of a chance just for the sake of this test. For the record it's got "repetitive melodic phrasing, extensive vamping, prominent use of synth" + MOSIITMGP. Although I didn't like it so much it wasn't actually bad enough for a thumbs down.

8. "Just Gettin' Old": Kyle Swager (?). Many elements that have featured in the previous songs: "mellow rock instrumentation, mild rhythmic syncopation, vocal-centric aesthetic, major key tonality & acoustic rhythm guitars". But I really didn't like this one at all; it seemed a little too earnest, mellow and acousticy singer-songwritery for my liking. Thumbs down after the second verse.

9. "Daddy's Bare Meat": AMT. Occasionally a different song by the original band(s) will be slipped into the mix, I think to judge how a listener will rate a slightly different musical style by that band. This one is very much like the first, the only addition being "the use of ambient synths". Thumbs up.

10. Oops, it played "UK Theatre" again. I haven't noticed repeats before (and it was played for the same reasons listed above in 3). A quick fast-forward.

11. "Just Touch Them": Circus Devils. This one goes back to experimental sounds (haven't seen those since my thumbs down to #2), plus electronica, acoustic rhythm guitars, vamping & MOSIITMGP. Thumbs up but unfortunately very very short.

12. "Invisible Raincoat": National Eye. Mellow rock instrumentation and a couple of the vocal features that I don't believe I actually care about (subtle use of vocal harmony, vocal-centric aesthetic) (& MOSIITMGP), yet I like this song quite a bit. Lucky 13. "Geometry": Oneida. Ooh, I really like this one (and definitely hadn't heard it before). Subtle vocal harmony again, and yet again the extensive vamping. Plus major key tonality and MOSIITMGP.

14, and where I decided I'd stop keeping track: "Artheroid Vogue": Circus Devils. Another really good song by the band from #11. Yet again vocal features play a prominent role: subtle use of vocal harmony, vocal-centric aesthetic, plus mellow rock instrumentation, extensive vamping & MOSIITMGP.

So of the 11 unique tracks besides those by AMT, I gave thumbs-up to 6 (7 if you count "With Candy" by the Lilys which is playing now), no rating ("OK") to 4, and thumbs down to only 2. I'd call that a very good level of performance. A couple of notes: in order to continue listening to music beyond the first few tracks, you need to register an email address as a user (US zip code needed). I've been using the free service but there is a pay option (I didn't bother to see what this includes). The service also limits the number of tracks you can fast-forward ("our music licenses force us to limit the number of songs you may skip each hour"); if you reach that point you have to sit through even the thumbs-down songs for a while ("Sit back and enjoy the music for now").

Subsequent edit: It does very badly at making playlists from extremely diverse artists; it seems to take frequency/popularity into account when it's not able to reconcile very different styles. For example I tried to create a radio station from Leadbelly, Kylie Minogue and Anthrax. It didn't find some musical abomination with elements of all three, but instead started out playing only very Kylie-like songs (radio friendly, energetic pop). I had to give a string of thumbs-down ratings before I heard anything else. Then it was all Anthrax-like songs (metal maniacs one and all); again in order to get anything else I had to give a load of thumbs-downs. Finally it played a series of songs quite similar to Leadbelly (but of course not similar to the others). This also shows that enough thumbs-down raings can counteract an initial "bad choice" that you don't really like.

Last weekend I finally collected my new glasses. My old pair were really nice (very lightweight titanium frames) but the lenses had gradually gotten a various assortment of scratches, dents, dings and other sorts of problems that make something transparent a little less so. Since I spend 95% of my working day staring at a computer screen, it's especially important that I am actually able to see the screen without major effort.

The old glasses looked like this:

(close-up view as most of the links don't give a good idea of what they actually look like. Like this one for example).

The new ones look more like this:
Yes, they are named "Francis". Although I should note that mine are a different color: I went with DVM, "dark violet". See, my Fashion Tip #4 yesterday was relevant after all. Although the color of the frames differs dramatically depending on the light, ranging from a steely grey to, well, a dark violet. So far reactions have been universally positive. And even more importantly, I can see!

I don't usually comment on the various search terms that lead people to my blog, but came across one I couldn't resist. A couple of days ago, someone visited from a Google search for the following: nicer summer dresses suitable for wearing to a beach wedding (my blog is #16 on Google at the moment for this search).

It would be rude of me to criticize this query on the basis of its not-entirely sensible use and combination of search terms (I personally would start with "summer dress" "beach wedding" but then I'm not in the market for dresses of any season and have not been invited to any beach weddings, so maybe this is just sour grapes), but the searcher clearly wasn't satisfied with the outcome if s/he actually visited my site looking for it.

In fact, I cannot think of many sites more poorly suited for answering such queries. The Dunce is known for the following fashion tips*.

1. Wear clothes until they wear out.
2. Wear a shirt on the upper half, and shorts on the lower half.
3. During the months of November, December, January and February, "shorts" in Tip 2 can be replaced by "trousers".
4. Purple is a favourite autumnal colour, brightening up the catwalks year after year, but this season it's more wearable than ever, coming in a range of gorgeous shades from lilac through to plum.
5. Put on a clean pair of underwear in the morning.
6. Wearing dirty clothing is fine, as long as the crotch area is mostly clean looking.
7. A wristwatch is a handy accessory if you wish to know the time on a regular basis.

So if you ask me about a nice summer dress suitable for wearing to a beach wedding, I'm most likely to try and change the subject (likely topics: various techniques for adjusting chain tension on a single-speed bicycle; different kinds of speed control devices on London roadways; why "Menzies" is nicknamed "Meng"; how history would have changed if the embattled men at the Alamo had held out for another week). If you do pin me down, don't blame me if you appear on the "FASHION DON'Ts" page of the celebrity mags.

*OK, I admit, one of these is plagiarized from somewhere else.

One of the strangest things I've come to notice about getting around in a quite crowded city is the importance of (lack of) eye contact in making my way through crowds of people. It's especially relevant on busy pavements or in crowded stations where people are walking in multiple directions (there's quite clearly no "walk on the left (or right) side of the pavement" rule; that's another story). In such environments, the ideal situation is one in which you are able to continue walking in a mostly forward direction without stopping, running into anyone, or other slowing conditions such as the notorious face-to-face two-step (in which two parties come to a stop face to face in order to avoid collision, then engage in an awkward combination of mirror-image sidesteps, feints and muttered apologies before the situation is finally resolved). It is fairly easy to avoid a full stop or collision under most circumstances, but avoiding variants of the face-to-face two-step is more challenging.

It might seem that advance eye contact is the way to go: by making eye contact with an approaching pedestrian, some sort of nonverbal social contract can be established by which one party agrees to go one way and the other, the other. But my non-quantitative observational study of this phenomenon suggests that this is not the case at all: eye contact seems to produce face-to-face two-step situations. Perhaps this is due to some sort of urban primate aggression (cf. cardinal-direction-going Zaxes), but most of my own face-to-face two-step experiences don't give that impression (the other party typically has a sort of confused, frustrated look, as if someone is standing directly in their path). It seems like eye contact with a stranger is really bad for expressing something like "I am going to pass you on the right", perhaps because direct eye contact implies direct forward motion. Or maybe it's my hypnotic gaze; next time this happens I'll try issuing a command ("Bark like a dog") and see what happens. Oddly, and perhaps counterintuitively, this problem (I mean the problem of face-to-face two-step situations, not the problem of London being overrun by a Dunce-led zombie army) is much rarer when I'm walking and looking at the ground a few feet in front of me. The crowds simply divide as if by magic, and only very seldom does some idiot come straight on and block my path. Perhaps without eye contact, other pedestrians are using other cues to anticipate my direction (perhaps they're looking at the direction of my feet, or perhaps they assume I will continue moving forward in the absence of eye contact or other social cues). It seems to me that foot-level cues give a quicker sense of the direction of someone's path (and a more immediate indication of any changes in such). Anyway, yet another reason to avoid eye contact while taking public transportation in London.

Note: these observations are not likely to apply for road vehicles.