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The mistake that Neil Gershenfeld makes is the same one that most of the technological movers and shakers have made this century. They get all excited over the possibility that something can be done, but breeze over the practical realities of its application. Great, we can put computers in everything. But it's a huge leap from saying, "We can design a computer that fits in a shoe and works at MIT," to saying, "Here's a computer shoe that will last and work reliably under real-world conditions." It's an even bigger leap to say, "Here's a technology that improves our lives enough to justify the billions of dollars that went into developing it." Very few technologies can say that. I recently saw a documentary ("Fast, Cheap and Out of Control") featuring another MIT scientist who said, with a straight face, that he'd like to develop tiny robots that will dwell on the edges of his TV screen and clean the dust off every now and then. For crying out loud! Granted, not everyone has the same set of priorities as I do, but until I get my ozone layer back, TV-cleaning robots is way down on my gimme-list. One would hope that this kind of sociopathic Rube Goldberg mentality would be confined to the fringes. Most new technologies don't make our lives easier or better -- they just elevate the general standard to the point that we have to run ever faster to keep up. And then they don't work, leaving us to pick up the pieces. These MIT types don't have to suffer the consequences of their actions. Their job is to develop a product that works under idealized conditions, or -- at most -- laboratory simulations of reality. Then the corporations market the hell out of the new technology and elevate it to the norm. And then, out in the real world, the technology proves unable to work in "real life." But, too late: The decision was made; you can't stop progress; if you're not part of the steamroller, you're part of the road. In the self-sealing logic of technological "progress," anyone who can't or won't adapt to a new paradigm every six months is by definition obsolete. I'm not looking forward to a world where people will look at me and say, "What? You don't have a shoe computer? What are you, some kind of caveman?" -- Tim Moerman
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Leaving the author's patronizing condescension aside, I believe the captioned article missed an important point about the difference between Canadian and American humor. Canadians and Brits recognize the ambiguities in the world. We can't see things in a linear, black-and-white, good guys vs. bad guys way, because the world is more complex than that. In fact the "Canadian identity" (there is one -- surprise, surprise) is often summarized up here by the phrase "on the other hand ..." Hence Canadian and British humor is full of subtlety, irony and sarcastic wit. Americans, on the other hand (forgive me for generalizing, but there does seem to be a prevailing cultural attitude), see things with an us vs. them, "the facts are obvious, and they're on our side" type of view. So American humor is more prone to the obvious, like belly laughs and sight gags. There is little self-doubt or real question-asking. Comedians like Martin Short, Eugene Levy and Jim Carrey have largely adapted to American culture and adopted the pratfalls and obvious gags. We smile at those things, too, but really, how many times can you watch someone fall on his butt and think it's funny? "On the other hand ..." there is the brilliant, multilayered subtlety of "SCTV," "The Kids in the Hall" and the real masters, "Monty Python's Flying Circus." When I lived in Syracuse, N.Y., for a year, I always chose a program like "SCTV" over one like "Saturday Night Live" because, in general, there seemed to be more meat in Canadian humor. Maybe what Americans are looking for from Canadian comedians is someone to teach them that the world is full of gray areas, and billions of people who see the world in a very different -- but equally valid! -- way. -- Phyl Good
Why Canadians are funny will continue to be an elusive question to answer. Sarah Vowell scratches the surface. I think our circumstances explain a lot: small and spread over a very large land mass with ongoing constitutional problems; long inclement winters (keeping us indoors, forcing us to keep up our humor), in the shadow of the U.S. giant; always looking to the U.S. to fulfill our dreams of stardom. We are also very conscious of our place in the world, aspiring to be great, but held back by our size, cautious nature and self-deprecation. Anyway, the last Canadian trait is rambling on and on, so I'll end it there. -- Paul Vincent N E X T+P A G E+| Pompous Christian athletes; the plight of besieged librarians |
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