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Saturday, November 2, 2013

Shoot the "Hostages"

I was watching the second episode of "Hostages," a "drama" starring Toni Collette and Dylan McDermott, and growing more and more irritated.  I couldn't quite figure out what was bothering me about the show, and I was determined not to throw the remote at the television until I had figured out just what was bothering me.  Finally, it hit me!  And now, one cracked TV screen later, I can share it with you.

"Hostages" tells the story of Dr. Ellen Sanders (Collette), a surgeon selected to operate on the President of the United States, who comes home the day before the surgery to discover that her family has been taken--you guessed it-- hostage by an elite team of--well, I would say "terrorists," but since they're led by the somewhat engaging Duncan Carlisle (McDermott), I'm not entirely sure that they're, exactly, bad guys.  I suppose if I were to keep watching, all would eventually become clear.  But that's not going to happen.  To continue::

OK, so Carlisle and his crew are holding Sanders' family hostage.  Their demand?  That she take a dive in the eighth--or, rather, that she intentionally botch the President's otherwise routine surgery so that he dies on the operating table.  What is Sanders to do?  What choice does she have?  In order to save her family, she must go against everything she believes!  The angst!  The drama!  The first episode builds to its climax as Sanders heads to the hospital to perform the surgery.  We watch, along with the hostage-takers and the Sanders clan, as the television interrupts its regularly scheduled programming with a breaking story from the President's hospital--

--THE SURGERY HAS BEEN DELAYED!

It seems that someone "accidentally" administered a blood thinner to the President, so Dr. Sanders has no choice but to postpone the surgery.  Wouldn't want anything to happen to the President, of course.  As the episode ends, we see Toni Collette, on TV, explain that of course the surgery will proceed as soon as possible.  She looks straight into the camera and says something to the effect of "I don't give up that easily."  A grudging smile crosses the face of Dylan McDermott: We can almost hear the subtext: "Oho!  Clever girl!  You've won THIS battle!  But will you win the war?"

OK, yeah, I'm surprised I made it through another half an episode, too.

But here's what ruins the whole thing for me.  In episode one, when she first sees the hostage takers in her home, Ellen activates a security device to call for help.  Duncan sees this, so he tells Ellen that she'd best be contacting the security company to tell them not to send anyone.  Ellen calls, but the company--while glad to hear that it's a "false alarm"--insists on sending someone over to the house to check: Company policy!  When the security guard shows up, though, it turns out that he's in on the whole thing!  He knows Dylan McDermott and his merry band of miscreants!  You see, Ellen: They're everywhere!  You can't get away from them!  You'd better just do what we say!

And when I say they're everywhere, I mean, EVERYWHERE!  Because in episode two, Ellen is being interviewed by the Secret Service about the mishap with the President's meds.  At one point, the head honcho steps out, and another Secret Service agent leans over and asks Ellen, quietly, whether her son is "enjoying spending time with her new houseguests"!  OH MY GOD!  THEY'VE EVEN INFILTRATED THE SECRET SERVICE!

You see the plot problem here?  If this shadowy cabal that wants to kill the President is so thorough that it can ensconce agents not only at the private security firm that watches over Dr. Sanders' home but also IN THE FREAKIN' SECRET SERVICE, then WHY do they need to count on the services of a reluctant doctor--who is also just maybe smart enough to figure out a way to thwart their plans?  Why wouldn't they just find a different doctor who would be willing, say, to do exactly what they wanted in exchange for something simple, like a tidy cash payout?  If they can get to the Secret Service, they could presumably get to anybody, right?

So one of two things is happening here: Either Duncan Carlisle chose Sanders to be the instrument of the President's doom BECAUSE OF her reluctance, because Carlisle--being Dylan McDermott, after all--is actually NOT a bad guy and actually wants to thwart the murderous plans of the actual bad guys; or, on the other hand, the writers have no idea what they're doing.  Either way, "Hostages" is not worth the ransom, i.e., the precious hours of my life I would never get back for watching it.

Friday, November 1, 2013

Dress under Duress

I've recently submitted an application for a new job--a promotion of sorts.  I'll keep you all posted as developments occur.  The other day, though, a friend of mine advised me that, if I get the job, I will have to go shopping.  As someone who has sported a wardrobe of t-shirts and jeans almost exclusively for the last ten years or so, I have a decided lack of "adult clothes."  Or, to be exact, the adult clothes I do possess have not, um, expanded as much as I have over the last ten years.  So, yes, I agreed, I will have to accept the fact that a wardrobe upgrade may be necessary.  This friend then suggested I start now.

"Dress for the job you want," she said, "not the job you have."

Sound advice, indeed!  So, for the last week I have worn a New York Mets uniform to work everyday.  If that doesn't work, in a couple of weeks I'll start dressing like a magician!  Or a bat!

Thursday, October 31, 2013

Stem the STEM Tide

When I first started college, I pursued a major in acting, a degree choice that was accepted by my liberal, teen-of-the-60's mother and greeted with no small amount of eye-rolling by any number of friends and well-wishers: What, exactly, did I think I was going to do with a degree in acting?.  I suppose on some level I, too, asked myself that question and came up with an unsatisfactory answer because, midway through my sophomore year I switched my major from the dramatic arts to the more socially acceptable English, with a soupcon of education-training thrown in.  Strangely enough, this was seen as a rational move, a practical step down the road to responsible adulthood.

Nowadays, though, such a change of major would elicit so much eye-rolling as to strain the optic nerves: Not only would a switch from drama to English be seen as, at best, a lateral move on the continuum of frivolity, but I would also be condemned for wasting my time and money on the inevitable inefficiencies of transferring.  Nowadays, if a student goes to college intending to study anything less obviously practical than, say, applied nuclear physics, he risks incurring the wrath of parents and society alike.  English--a major once so respectable as to inspire musical-theater balladry--is now just another academic dead-end.

Colleges have begun to take notice.  At Stanford and Harvard and any number of other bastions of higher education, administrators look on with concern as the enrollments in once proud humanities departments continue to shrink.  While the trend didn't start with the global economic meltdown, the recession has seemingly channeled ever-greater number of students into the STEM fields (science, technology, engineering and math)--these seeming to offer students greater chances of gainful employment upon graduation.  Why, the thinking goes, would anyone waste four-plus years and potentially tens of thousands of dollars on a degree in something as squishy as English?

I have to admit, I find myself on the defensive when confronting the question, "What good is an English degree?"  I mean, there is something apparently self-indulgent about spending years reading and discussing good books when one could spend those same years learning how to splice a nucleotide to a particle accelerator.  Or whatever it is that science people do.  Then again, maybe nucleotide-splicing is just as self-indulgent in its way, as the people who major in science probably enjoy lab work just as much as English majors enjoy books.

Or at least, they probably did, back in the days when not everyone felt compelled to major in "practical" fields whether they wanted to or not.  Which I think is an important point: Do we have more STEM majors because people want to major in STEM fields or simply because people think that only by majoring in these fields will they be able to find work?  And if the reason is the latter, then won't they be disappointed when they graduate and find themselves having to compete with a multitude of other graduates for what will still be a limited number of positions?  And won't the ones who get the best jobs still be the ones whose enthusiasm for the subject has led them to achieve at the highest levels--the ones who probably would have gone into the sciences anyway?

Humanities majors may not be as well-versed in the workings of the atom or the proper way to run an economy as those who pursue more scientific fields.  But those who study English or philosophy or music or, yes, drama develop valuable skills nonetheless--communication skills, writing skills, those oft-mentioned critical thinking skills that everyone values so highly.  Not everyone, frankly, is cut out for scientific careers--I'm certainly not--so why shouldn't students follow their passions to find something at which they can excel?  The jobs will come.  For what it's worth, while most of my fellow drama majors may not have achieved Broadway superstardom or landed lucrative multi-picture deals, they have pretty much all gone on to successful careers in any number of fields.  Who could argue with that?

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Annotation

"Making Robots More Like Us"

Wouldn't we be better off making robots like us more?  Has nobody here seen "Terminator"?

"On a recent morning Natanel Dukan walked into the Paris offices of the French robot maker Aldebaran and noticed one of the company’s humanoid NAO robots sitting on a chair. Mr. Dukan, an electrical engineer, could not resist. Bending over, he kissed the robot on the cheek. In response the NAO tilted its head, touched his cheek and let out an audible smack.

"It is certainly a very French application for a robot, but the intimate gesture by the $16,000, two-foot robot, now being used in academic research labs and robotic soccer leagues, also reflects a significant shift."

Why would you spend $16,000 to make a robot play soccer?  Or is it just that the thought of robots is so cool that they need to do something to reduce their sheer awesomeness?

". . . .Romeo, a five-foot humanoid robot, will soon be introduced by Aldebaran as a “big brother” to the pipsqueak, kissing NAO robot."

If you're going to build a kissing robot named "Romeo," you know you're asking for trouble, right?

"The key to this advance is the new robots’ form. Their humanlike appearance does more than satisfy science-fiction fantasies."

Riiiight. . . . Fantasies about "science fiction."  Like, robots flying spaceships. . . . Things like that.  Ahem.

"Roboticists also point out that humans have an affinity for their own shape, easing transitions and making collaboration more natural. Creating robots in humanoid form also simplifies training and partnerships in the workplace, and increases their potential in new applications like caregiving."

"Caregiving."  Is that what the kids are calling it these days?

"Rethink Robotics recently released a video of its robot, Baxter, making a cup of coffee with a Keurig coffee machine. The company said the humanoid robot, with tong-like hands and a computer-screen face, was trained to carry out a variety of preprogrammed coffee-making tasks in just several hours."

But what if I don't want to wait several hours for a cup of coffee?  Oh--the programming took several hours. . . . Got it.  Heh.

"At Carnegie Mellon University, Manuela M. Veloso, a professor of computer science, has developed a series of mobile robots she calls CoBots to perform tasks like delivering mail, guiding visitors to appointments and fetching coffee. She calls it “symbiotic autonomy,” since the robots also rely on humans. For example, because they don’t have arms, they can’t operate elevators, so they have been programmed to wait and ask for human assistance. If they get lost, they stop, call up a map of the building on their computer screens, interrupt a passing human and say, “I am lost, can you tell me where I am?”

The New York version of this robot has been programmed to respond accordingly when the passing human flips him off.

"To function in the real world and to be safe, robots must have a radically different design from factory robots, which are based on “stiff” actuators capable of moving with great speed to a precise position. The new robots have “compliant actuators,” which respond to external forces by yielding in a natural fashion."

Insert your own robot-sex joke here.

"Dr. Pratt recalled an incident when the researchers first realized that series elastic actuation was the key to freeing robots from their cages. While working on an early humanoid robot named COG, in a project led by Rodney Brooks, the founder of Rethink Robotics who was then director of the M.I.T. artificial intelligence lab, they were demonstrating how the robot could do tasks like writing with a pencil and paper. However, there was a bug in the software, causing the robot’s arm to repeatedly bang the table.

"Dr. Brooks decided it was an opportunity to demonstrate the safety of the technology. He placed himself between the table and the arm, which began spanking him."
 
GOODNIGHT EVERYBODY!

Monday, October 28, 2013

I Need a New Hobby

My fantasy fantasy football team sucks this year.  I don't know what Pigskinablanket13 is thinking half the time: He has, like, NO offensive linemen, and he keeps stocking up on punters!  And don't even get me started on Backandfourthdown!  Hey, Backy, trade Josh Freeman, already!  If the Bucs can do it, so can you!  I know, I know: It's my own fault.  I hang on to fantasy footballers way too long.  I hear everyone telling me that GridironGreta is past her prime, but I just have a feeling that she's got one or two good weekends left in her.  However, if anyone out there is interested, I will at this point trade SidelineusAndLucy for, like, a stick of gum.  What kind of a stupid name is that, anyway?

Sunday, October 27, 2013

I'm Thinking They Should Do "Gravity's Rainbow" Next

According to a front-page article in today's Times, Children's book publishers are now producing board books--those big, chunky cardboard tomes designed to be "read" (or at least slobbered on) by toddlers and a large portion of the Republican electorate--adapted from the classics.  Not classic board books, mind you: Actual classics!  There are now board book editions of Moby-Dick, Les Miserables, and Sense and Sensibility.  My personal favorite, though, if an accompanying photograph is any indication, is a board-book version of Anna Karenina.  If nothing else, that ending should keep kids away from Thomas the Tank Engine forever.