It’s Not Just Gen Z

I had no idea that this was the case:

In May a survey found that a third of Brits panic when their phone rings unexpectedly and many don’t even answer calls, with Gen Z pleading ‘just text me’.

In a time where cold callers and scammers ringing you up out of the blue happens more often than not, almost 37 per cent of those asked said they are less likely to answer when they receive a call without notice than they were five years ago.

Some 12 per cent of those surveyed said it has been a week – or even longer – since they last spoke to someone on the phone.

And Gen Z have flocked to TikTok to beg people ‘text me’ and telling their viewers how they just sit ‘watching my phone ring’ if ‘absolutely anyone’ calls. 

Yeah, I don’t ever answer my phone either, unless the number is in my address book, or else it’s an identified call from a company or person I already know.

As it is, I get two to three text messages a day from some unidentified source or other, saying they found my number in their callers’ list and don’t know who I am (or similar nonsense).  And even worse are the texts that say junk like “Hi!  We haven’t chatted for ages.  Can you call me?” (#Trashdump #Unacknowledged)

I did look up the area codes listed by a few of these text callers, and imagine my surprise when I discovered that all of them are commonly-used fronts for spam calls which originate in exotic locales like the Philippines, China or Central Europe.  (They’re the new Nigeria of email fame.)

Hell, I don’t even answer unidentified calls from my own area code.

It’s a minefield out there, folks, and ignoring this bullshit is not paranoia, but prudence.


Parallel thought:  this panic comes from, of all places, the BritGov, who calls people to collect statistics and now can’t get the info they want.  Let us all remember the immortal words of Governor John Cowperthwaite of Hong Kong, talking about his refusal to let his government collect data from the population:

“If I let them compute those statistics, they’ll want to use them for planning.”

Wiser words were seldom spoken.

Skynet Hates You

Here’s one consequence of putting your trust in technology, this time from India:

Three men have died in a road accident after their car’s sat-nav sent them careening off the 30ft-high edge of an unfinished bridge. 

Their bodies, trapped inside the mangled car, weren’t discovered until 9:30am the next day, local media reported. 

Investigators found that the trio had been following an out-of-date map on Google Maps at speed. 

The mapping service allegedly told them to travel down the bridge, which had no signs indicating it was out of use after it suffered a collapse in 2022 following heavy flooding. 

Oops.

One would think that there should have been warning signposts about the bridge being down, but then again, this is Third World India.  Let’s review:

  • Trust technology:  not always wise.
  • Trust government:  also not always wise.

A life (-or-death) lesson, there.

Leaving Their Market Behind

In his latest video, Harry Metcalfe takes aim at supercars — or to be more specific, their manufacturers — and their ballooning love affair with technology.

Now Harry lives in a different world from pretty much 99.99% of the rest of the world, because the market for the insanely-priced supercars is absolutely minuscule;  and his point is that the market is shrinking still more.

I don’t care about any of that, and I’d bet good money that pretty much none of my Readers could give a rat’s ass about it either, for all sorts of reasons:

  • we couldn’t afford the frigging cars even with a decent-sized lottery win;
  • even if we could, we have too much common sense to spend that amount of money on an asset that depreciates, on average, about 50% per annum, regardless of how many miles you drive the thing;
  • and lastly, we all shrink from the Nanny Technology that takes away from the pure enjoyment of driving (not to mention the intrusive data harvesting and so on, which I’ve ranted about before ad nauseam).

I’m not even going to talk about how fugly all these new super/hypercars look, because that’s also a frequent target for my rants on these pages.

Lest you couldn’t be bothered to spend half an hour in Harry’s company, let me illustrate his point about car depreciation by looking at a car we all know about:  the Bentley Continental GT convertible (GTC, for the cognoscenti ).  Here is the 2024 model, with its 4.0L V8:

I have to say, by the way, that it looks absolutely gorgeous:  very definitely a worthy successor to the 1930s “Blower” “Speed Six” Bentley which won Le Mans several times.  It’s price, however, does not look absolutely gorgeous:  $340,000 with only a few adornments.

Which is bad enough.  Now let’s look at its second-hand value.  Here’s a 2015 GTC:

Looks more like a limo than the 2024 model, but essentially it’s the same car (same engine, same luxury interior, etc. etc.) but with… 15,000 miles on the odometer (about 1,500 miles per annum of ownership).  Its price:  $90,000 (!!!).

All sorts of things come to mind, most of them unprintable anywhere except perhaps on this website.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:  there is no justification — none — that can justify the prices of these upscale cars (and of the supercars we will not speak because Ferrari and the other thieves only make a few of them each year, thus ensuring their consistent “value proposition” — read:  snob appeal for the terminally-insecure rich).

Of course, the thieves (and their sycophantic customers) will cry out that it’s all the new  whizz-bang technology (“All hail Technology!!!”) that makes their cost of manufacture rocket into the stratosphere.

Unfortunately, as Metcalfe points out in his video, more and more people are looking at all that technology, what’s involved and how much money (not to mention weight) that it adds to the car, and are saying, “Eeeeehhhh I don’t think so, Luigi.”

Which, by the way, might account for this atrocity:

Looks like the More Money Than Sense crowd are taking the $340 grand they would have dropped on a new jazzed-up Bentley, and instead splurging it on a rebuilt version of Ferrari’s entry-level model of the 1970s.

At least the Dino is bereft of anything that could remotely resemble a micochip.


There is a companion piece to this post:  it’ll appear next week.

Bad Back Then, Still Awful

I see that Microsoft’s Excel spreadsheet program has just turned 40, which is proof that you can fool a bunch of the people all the time (provided that you bundle your foul, inadequate software into a compendium suite which just “happens” to work okay with the core operating system which, lest we forget, you also created).

I don’t know a lot about a lot of stuff, and even less about software, except that I’ve been a spreadsheet user — at times, a very heavy spreadsheet user — all the way from early 1980s VisiCalc, to SuperCalc, Lotus 1-2-3 through Quattro Pro, while having all that time avoided Excel because its first iteration was dreadful.

Then I joined a company which only used MS Excel, and insisted that I do too (as well as the stupid Word and even-worse Access.  Of course, it required re-learning all my old commands in a new language — not too difficult — but what was difficult was discovering that Excel had not really improved much over the years.

So I quit using the thing, did all my development and report design work in Quattro Pro — which was still the best spreadsheet program extant — and then translated everything into Excel, which was time-consuming and also counter-productive because a great many commands I’d used in Quattro as a matter of course had no equivalent in Excel.  (Bear in mind that this was back in the 1990s and early 2000s, and things may have changed since then.)

Also, Quattro’s companion database product Paradox was streets better than pretty much all other such programs back then, which hamstrung me even more.

It always struck me that MS products, like Apple’s, are great if you’ve never used anything like that before.  If you have, however, and are familiar with the competitive products, MS always comes up short.

Nowadays, my needs are a great deal more modest than back then, so I use Apache’s Open Office suite (Writer and Calc) because a) they work just fine for me and b) they’re free.

Now, if I have to send someone something I wrote or crafted on a spreadsheet, I just tell the recipient to download Open Office to be able to read the stuff.  (I should point out that the Son&Heir used OO Writer exclusively to write his papers all the way through college, and never had a problem — to this day it’s the only thing he writes with — but at his job at Global MegaBank Inc. he has to use Excel, which he hates more than I do.)

So Happy Birthday, Inferior Spreadsheet Product, for what that’s worth.  (Nothing, by comparison to Open Office’s Calc.)

Big Auto, Big Brother

Yesterday, I talked about wanting to own a pre-digital car — i.e. one that doesn’t fucking spy on your every move.

I often wonder what car or cars I’d get to replace the Tiguan, and what’s interesting is that I’m having precisely the same feelings that I have with guns and watches: nothing of recent manufacture at all — especially given that they’re all without exception loaded with electronic gizmos I don’t care for, or else gizmos that spy on you and/or could possibly be used to control your driving. In fact, the more I think about it, I’d probably have to go back to pre-1970s cars — fully resto-modded of course — to find a car that has not a single computer chip in its driving operation.

Here’s a business opportunity, because this is America.  (I don’t have the technical skills or capital to follow through on this but I’ll just throw it out there.)  Is it possible to turn your car into a mobile Faraday cage?  And would it be possible to turn the feature on and off?

I know, car companies and / or the godless insurance industry would probably use their lawyers and lobbyists to outlaw this, just as law enforcement tried to prevent speed-radar scanners, but it’s worth a shot.  With a switchable cage, the insurance companies couldn’t exactly deny you coverage or raise your rates if all the data showed was you doing trips to the supermarket once a week.

It’s time for us to fight back against this nonsense, and to borrow an expression:  rage against the machine — the machine, in this case, being Big Brother cars, the cunts who make them and sell your data, the even-bigger cunts who strip-mine your personal data, and and the last category of cunts who use your personal data against you.)

I feel a mega-rant coming on, but instead I’ll just go to the range.

And just to make you feel better, if my car was spying on me it could report said destination to… well, anyone who might be interested in such data.  Makes you think, dunnit?

Dust Settled

Okay, all that connectivity bullshit seems to have cleared up.  I won’t go into detail, but the past two days have been somewhat nerve-wracking because I kind of like keeping this here back porch of mine going, and because without an Internet connection in my house, I was going to have to go to places like Sta*buck$ or my apartment complex’s front office to use their free wi-fi.  And the rent had to be paid,yesterday — and there was no guarantee that I would be able to do it online.  (Not that I care that much;  my bank has a branch literally in the next block — actual walking distance, no kidding — so at worst I could get a cashier’s check cut in about five minutes.)

Also, my plagues & poxes episode finally seems to have cleared up — although New Wife is now showing some worrying symptoms of same — but at least I’m no longer hacking up bits of lung or whatever.

The downtime meant I had no time to assemble the Monday Funnies or News Roundup for their respective days, but that’s not important in the grand scheme of things, what with so many others putting out the same type of content anyway.  And to be quite frank, both involve quite a lot of work to put together (“curate”? I hate that fucking word), so I might just make the Roundup a weekly thing.

Anyway, normal service will now be resumed.

Assuming, of course, that in the general mood of whatthefuck that I described last week, that there’s anything I feel like ranting about or even giggling at.