Categories
Social Media

A question of ethics

The discussion about sponsored links on a site has been fairly good at Phil Ringnalda’s, except for a couple of threads.

It’s late and I don’t have time tonight to link to any sites–maybe tomorrow–but there are folks who are not offended, and others who are. Rafe at r3c.org wrote:

I guess my position is that publishing those links on your site isn’t the most unethical way to earn a buck, but it is unethical. Publishing these links makes the Web a little bit worse for everybody. I guess a person could rationalize it by saying that the things that make a site a worthwhile spot to put those links in the first place adds value to the Web, and so it’s justifiable to post those links and offset some of the value being added to the Web in exchange for profit, but I still don’t like it.

Webster’s defines ethics as:

The discipline dealing with what is good and bad and with moral duty and obligation.

and

A set of moral principles or values.

Well, at least I wasn’t accused of doing evil.

Categories
Photography Places

Mists

Yesterday started out with mist. From my hotel room, I could see the building that houses the Welk shows, and beyond that, the mists over the river leading away from the Table Rock Dam.

Morning and Mist in Branson

When I got to the Dam, most of it was closed, as it was too early. I found one place that wasn’t closed for security reasons and was able to get a picture of the dam. There wasn’t much water running down the dam–most likely due to the drought, again.

Table Rock Lake Dam

The fog was thick, and oddly layered. I could look down into it and saw, barely, the image of a man fishing, noticable more from his bright orange hat than anything else. Driving further down the road I found a spot where people could park and fish the river below the dam.

I walked down the wooden steps to the beach area, by the overflow stream. Seeing them in the fog was a rather amazing experience. They each had their own space, quietly casting their line, and winding it back, only to re-cast it again.

fishermeninfog

Warning: but what if you're deaf?

The trip back was very quiet, and primarily overcast, but no rain, luckily. The only real excitement I had was when I spotted a small turtle crossing the road in front of me. I wasn’t going to run over a turtle, so I slammed on my breaks, hard enough to leave markings on the road and smell burning rubber. I watched in horror as the little guy disappeared underneath the car, but didn’t feel a thump.

I sat there in the road, trying to see if the guy was walking around. I couldn’t leave the car parked in the road so all I could do was inch forward until I could see this small, black turtle shell reflected in my rearview mirror. I stopped again and watched, anxiously, until the turtle extended out its legs and head and took off for the side of the road.

Later, I came over a hill to see a row of fire trucks, police cars, and ambulances, driving slowly along with their lights on. It was a funeral procession, most likely for a fallen firefighter, though I couldn’t find anything in the news. I slowed down, but wasn’t sure what to do. One of the firetrucks pulled out into my lane, which made the decision for me, so I pulled over, as did a couple of cars and a truck behind me. I managed to get a few photos, though none were that good.

I stopped at only one place on the way back: Alley Spring. Unlike my last trip, the trees were in full leaf, and the day was overcast — perfect conditions for photos.

Alley Spring Basin Gate

The Mill is run by the federal government, and they provide people who answer questions about the Mill in the Summer. The lady who was on duty when I arrived told me about how the farmer’s would bring in corn or wheat, and dump it on the floor next to the rollers (used for grinding grain). It would drop through to the basement where it would be weighed and the miller take his cut. From there, a conveyor belt with little cups would haul the wheat or corn to the upper story, where filters would sift out the larger wheat from the smaller. From there, the corn would go to the corn roller, and the larger wheat to one machine, the smaller to another.

Water-driven Grinding Machines for Wheat

Alley Spring Corn Husker

The corn was ground up for making moonshine, the wheat for flour. It was considered a modern marvel of the time at one point, but it only ran 20 years — the Ozarks in that area aren’t good farming land. Luckily, the State bought the Mill in 1920 to preserve it, and aside from some minor wood replacement, it’s all the original materials. They even run it twice during the day, though not the day when I was there.

The hostess was very friendly, as were all of the people I ran into on the trip. At Hodgson Mill, I ran into a couple from Theodosia (isn’t that a pretty town name) who were out looking at mills. They showed me the water line of the Flood of ’93, and I told them about Bollinger, which still ground grain, after a couple of hundred years.

Of all the mills, Alley Spring is still my favorite. The hostess told me that a bobcat had taken a rabbit drinking from the Spring just a couple of days before, and the week before that, a forest ranger had a big black bear pass in front of his truck. I may yet meet my bear face to face this year, and get a photograph.

Favorite view of Alley Spring Mill

Categories
Connecting

A difficult conversation

I’ve been involved with a rather intriguing conversation over at Phil Ringnalda’s. I hesitated to point to it, as when you read the comments, some of you may be disappointed in me. But for all my faults, I’ve not been one to hide my decisions, though I think it would have made it easier to get a job if I had.

The conversation is good, especially as it involves the question: if it’s wrong for an organization to do something, is it right when a friend does the same? This is a key element in many of the writings in weblogging, and was a real motivator for my little ABCs of frank, online discussions.

Do I have an answer to this? Not likely.

Anyway, I decided to point to the post after giving my friend Phil a heads up, because I didn’t want to sucker punch him emotionally twice in one day. And when I return, I’ll have more to write on it.

Categories
Places

The Missouri geek camp and bar-b-que

The time, 5:15 pm, August 19th. The place, St. Louis, Missouri….

“Good afternoon campers, and welcome to GeekCamp 2005!”

Happy Camper One: “Yeah, yeah, hi, hi, where’s the air conditioning?”

Happy Camper Two: “It is so hot, my fucking TiBook is melting.”

Happy Camper Three: “Hey, don’t stand so close! You’re sweating on my iPod!”

Happy Camper Four: “You take a picture of me right now when I look like this, and I will hurt you. ”

Happy Camper One: “What’s the Flickr tag for this anyway? ‘hellcamp’?”

The time, 11:45 pm, August 19th. The place, a bunch of tents on a lawn, in St. Louis, Missouri…

From one tent: “What bit me! Something just bit me!”

From a second: “What was it?”

First: “Some kind of brown spider. It was in my sleeping bag, and when I crawled in, it bit me!”

Second: “Wow. That’s like, really too bad.”

First: “What do you mean, that’s like really too bad!?”

From a third tent: “Where did it bite you?”

First: “On my ankle, just above my tatoo.”

Second: “Well, then, that’s okay. You wanted to get rid of that tatoo anyway.”

First: : “WHAT DO YOU MEAN I WANTED TO GET RID…”

The time 6;45am, August 20th. The place, a big outdoor tent with lots of tables and chairs.

Overheard: Do I want some grits? How would I know? What the hell are ‘grits’?

Geek A: “So what sessions are you going to?”

Geek B: “There’s a hands-on session on Google maps and satellite tracking I’m going to this afternoon. Should be awesome.”

Overheard: Do they serve pork at every meal here?

Geek A: “That one is held outdoors, you know.”

Geek B; “On the other hand, the session on weblogging, should be fun. Can never attend too many sessions on weblogging.”

Overheard: What is that crap you’re eating? Biscuits and what? Looks like something you’d see on the sidewalk in the Mission District.

Geek C: “There’s a Dukes of Hazzard gadget car demo this morning that sounds cool.”

The time, 4:00pm, August 20th. The place, the asphalt in front of a big building, in St. Louis, Mo.

Sunburned Geek One: “Hey, I had a chance to meet with Larry Page!”

Sunburned Geek Two: “Cool! What was he like?”

Sunburned Geek One: “Well, I don’t know. When I walked up to him, his face was really red and clammy looking, and his eyes were kind of glazed. When I said, ‘Hi’, he sort of gurgled and then fell over.”

Sunburned Geek Two: “Wow!”

Sunburned Geek One: “Yeah, last time I saw him, they were taking him away on a stretcher.”

Sunburned Geek Two: “Man, poor guy.”

Sunburned Geek Two: “So, did you get your picture taken with him?”

The time, 4:15pm, August 20th. The place, the same asphalt, in St. Louis

Sunburned Geek Three, walking up through the tall, tall grass: “What are you guys doing, standing on that hot asphalt instead of the grass.” Shakes head, and starts walking away. “Jeez, you losers.”

Sunburned Geek One (whispering): Should you tell him, or should I?

Sunburned Geek Two (whispering back): No, let’s wait until he gets completely covered, then we’ll tell him.

The time, 9:00pm, August 20th. The place, kegger, right next to tents.

Slightly drunk, sunburned, geek camper A: “All they got to drink is Budweiser.”

Even more drunk, sunburned, geek camper B: “Well, it’s made here so it makes sense that’s what they would serve.”

camper A: “Tastes like piss.”

Stumbling, drooling, geek camper C: “You guyz shuuld try the stuff in the jars.”

camper B: “What stuff in what jars?”

camper C: “Ish over there” Pointing. “Shee? The clear stuff. Oh hey! Thars roast pig butt over there.” Weaves away.

camper A: “Let’s go try that clear stuff.”

camper B: “Okay, I’m game.”

Suddenly, a voice raises above the noise of the crowd…: “Oh my god, I’m blind! I’m blind! I can’t see! I’m blind!

camper A looks at camper B. Camper B looks back.

camper A: “On the other hand, I like Bud.”

camper B: “Yeah. Cool horses.”

The time, 4pm, August the 21st. The place, the large meeting room at Geek Camp.

“Well campers, I want to thank you for coming, and we hope you got as much out of this event as we did.”

You are really covered in bug bites. Do they itch?

“This year’s GeekCamp was the best ever!”

I heard that Page was running down the hall at the hospital, bare ass naked, tapping people on the head and crying out, “You’re a 6″, “You’re a 8″.

Better sell your Google stock.

elsewhere: I’m peeling so much, I look like a snake.

Yeah, but at least you’re not blind. I heard…

“It’s going to be tough to beat this year at next year’s GeekCamp.”

You couldn’t get me back here if you paid me.

You could promise me links from both BoingBoing and Slashdot, and I still wouldn’t come back.

I wouldn’t come back even if they filled the room full of VCs with money to burn.

“Unfortunately, next year we’ll only have space for about half of you, so we won’t be able to invite some of you back…”

“What!”

“Now wait just a minute!”

“I was really looking forward to returning next year…”

“How could you say that we’re not invited back…

And so ends the Missouri Geek Camp and Bar-B-Q for 2005…

Just a little southern geek humor…

Categories
Insects outdoors Photography Places

Last call

I’m off tomorrow into the wilds of the Ozarks, into that part of the state new to me. There will, of course, be photos when I return, but maybe code, too, as I like to work on code when I’m in a hotel room — gives me something familiar.

Today, though, I went to the Botanical for another chance to get photos of the water lilies. Last chance, really, as the summer is waning and you can see this in the richness of the trees, and the activity of the insects. Particularly the insects, as the garden was ripe with butterflies today; so with yet more water lily photos you’ll also be getting yet more butterfly pictures.

Next time: code, I swear. And pictures of something different, I hope.

newmonarch2

Still, I don’t think I can or ever will, get tired of being surrounded by butterflies and water lilies. It’s like you’re in the middle of a cartoon drawn by a young child with a new box of Crayolas. Everywhere you turn, you see another bright splash of color.

ringlily

In the Spring, the insects are lazy, shy, and elusive. Today, though, you could almost reach out and hold them they were that close. But they were moving, constantly, which made getting a photo a little challenging. Now is the last chance for the bees to get nectar for the hive; the butterflies to store up energy to finish the migration; the dragonflies to, well, I don’t know why the dragonflies were frantic.

Not just the bugs, the photographers were out in force today, even at the 7am opening of the garden. Of course, the weather was going to be hot, and the sun isn’t that good for photography, but I must have ran into a dozen photographers within one hour. Most had tripods, a few were like me — just winging it.

butterbee

Today’s bright and busy activity reminded me of years ago when I would go to a bar, and the bartender or band would announce last call. The lights would come up in the place, and people would scurry about, making good on the last few moments before having to head out into the night.

This girl would run up to her friends and whisper something into their ears and they would giggle and leave; that young man would be writing a phone number down in a match book. Of course now everyone carries pocket computers and cellphones and numbers would be jotted down into some kind of electronic device, but it’s not the same.

Friends would come together and split apart, some for home, others for another party somewhere, yet others to go to breakfast. And not just a small breakfast, either. I don’t know what happens now, in this Atkins Diet time, but back then, it was large, it had eggs, and it had potatoes and butter. Mega-cinnamon roll was optional.

There was one place in Seattle that was famous for the after hour breakfasts they’d make: huge plate size omelets covering a bed of crisp, perfectly done hash browns, served with good, hot coffee–all accompanied by thick, buttered toast and real preserves. The place was small, and people would be lined up for a block to get in, it was that popular. We’d sit there and laugh about the night, none of us wanting it to end–caught up in that perfect moment that’s not quite morning, but not evening either.

cobaltbluelilygreen

I remember a morning just like that in Salt Lake City, walking all night with friends, greeting the dawn with outstretched arms. The last of summer, and summer’s golden light.

This is a good time of year. The roses and other flowers have started to wilt, but in doing so they let out their richest scent. The leaves are at their darkest green, just before they begin to turn. Birds are everywhere, no longer bound to nests or to mating, and free to fly, and sing, just for the joy of it. It’s warm, but we’re starting to get a cool breeze now and again. And of course, all those butterflies.

I did like to walk among them today. They’re not shy of you at all, unless your shadow falls on them and then they take off into the air. As I walked by the rows of flowers, butterflies would leap into the air behind and around me, as if I were a June bride. My last chance to be a June bride, really, as I’m of an age with the summer.

newmonarch3