I’m ready to admit that I have a problem.

I have GAS.

I suffer from Gadget Addiction and Subtraction.

Gadget Addiction and Subtraction:
The endless circular process of the acquisition and disposal of electronic devices, typically involving the following pattern:

1. initial awareness of device x
2. extensive research of device x
3. purchase anticipation of device x
4. purchase of device x
5. deployment of device x
6. enjoyment of device x
7. hacking of device x
8. over-hacking of device x
9. dissatisfaction with device x (probably from over-hacking)
10. continuous whining about device x
11. the grass is greener on the other side of device y
11. sale or discard of device x
12. extensive research of device y
and so on…

As you might imagine, this is a vicious cycle. If you’ve experienced it, you certainly know it to be just that. Take my own pattern for example, demonstrated below [fig. 1]

A few questions emerge as I consider how increasingly common GAS seems to be:

1. How many iPods, PDAs or high-end cell phones purchased today will be discarded within three years? (Maybe we should be consoled that Bill Gates believes all three will be bound together in one device within a few years.)
2. How many other $300+ items do we willingly expect to get rid of after only three years?
3. Why do people seem satisfied with this? Is this just part of living in an age dominated by rapidly advancing technology?
4. How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie roll pop? Seriously. Think about it.

My Motorola Mpx200 cell had a great feature that makes finding a contact infinitely easier. To call someone already listed in your contacts, you just key in the numbers on the keypad that correspond with the letters and it narrows down the possibilites as you type each letter. It’s basically T9 guessing for contacts. It’s very fast and makes it so that I can keep hundreds of contacts in my cell and still find them easily.

In about October, my phone started flaking out on me, so I sent it in for warranty repair. While waiting to get it returned to me, I was using another phone that didn’t have some of the features that I loved on my Motorola.

One day I was whining to a middle-aged friend about how much I missed my Motorola and how inconvenient this temporary phone made my life. I had to actually scroll through a ton of names to find the person I wanted to call.

He looked at me like I was crazy.

“And how much more time does that take?” he said.

Thinking he was sympathizing with me, I griped, “It makes it take about 30 seconds longer!” I immediately felt embarassed as I realized how silly I sounded.

“Yeah? I remember just a couple of years ago when I would have to pull out one of these and flip through it, then actually dial the number,” he said, waving a little pocket address book.

I have come to the startling conclusion that “modern convenience” quite basically trains us for a lifetime of impatience. If I am writhing in pain because I have to scroll through a bunch of names to make a phone call, I’m in sad shape.

And I am.

I rarely cook anything more than “one step” meals because it takes too long. If I’m busy, I just won’t eat.

I have my email forwarded to my cell phone because I can’t stand going more than an hour without checking it.

I took eight books, my laptop, my iPod, several DVDs, and an entire recording studio with me when I went on vacation! Knowing I might be without Internet access for a week, I made sure my RSS news reader was completely full of more than 3500 articles. 3500!

There is a mild desperation that I sense fairly frequently, a feeling that I am wasting time or missing out.

Is this simply a connection addiction? Perhaps. I have been very wired for a very long time.

On Tuesday, I bought the MPx220, the latest version of my old phone. It’s even more deft at enabling impatience.

Using its built in Bluetooth capability, it will sync my appointments, contacts, and to do list with my laptop computer without me physically doing anything.

Also using my phone’s Bluetooth modem, I can now get on the Internet anywhere I have cell phone service.

Unfortunately, to set all that up the way I wanted it took me two days of constantly messing with it.

Modern convenience is a wonderful thing.

Or is it?

Another week, another so-called “iPod killer”.

This time it’s Sony’s offering. Hey, what about Microsoft’s iPod killer? Or Dell’s? Neuros? Rio’s? E.Digital’s? iRiver’s? Or the original iPod killer, Archos Jukebox? Seriously, I’m going to stop because it’s just a lot.

iPod Killer! Who would have thought geeks could be so violent outside of Unreal Tourney? Dozens of tech companies are developing a product that by description has the intent of slaying another product! And why is everyone so sure they have THE iPod killer?

Don’t all these tech companies know the rules of iPod Killer Highlander? “There can be only one.” Can’t some of these players settle for being an “iPod taunter” or even an “iPod bully”? When I think about it, I suppose some companies might be willing to be the “iPod’s lunch money stealer”. Maybe “iPod threatener” doesn’t have as sharp a ring to it. They could always try “iPod hurter” or “iPod injurer”. There are gobs of alternatives!

Really, does everyone have to kill the iPod? Can’t we all just get along? These aren’t MP3 players – they’re MP3 birds of prey!

Although, come to think of it, the phrase “iPod killer” seems more prevalent than “MP3 player”. Perhaps rather than calling MP3 players just that, the product category should be called “iPod and/or iPod killers”. (iPods and iPod killers are apparently not mutually exclusive: Eliot Van Buskirk said, “Ironically, the biggest iPod killer of them all could be Apple’s next-generation models,” referring to the current revision of iPods.) HP seemed to follow this idea, making their iPod killer the actual iPod.

The great irony of this whole thing is that the iPods are all destined to be dead anyway. It’s quite sad to me that the common engineering standard of planned obsolescence means that my iPod is almost guaranteed to be dead before any of its foes have a chance to vanquish it.

Maybe that’s the real iPod killer, Sony, Microsoft, Dell, iRiver, Archos, and the millions of you out there. If you want to kill the iPod, just wait.

Its battery is slowly going the way of the SuperSize fry.

Patience: The conquering iPod killer.

All these threats to my iPod have me thinking: How much real quality time do I have left with my iPod? I should probably take it out to a psychedelic multi-color flashing room and dance around like a freak more often.

“All iPods die. Not all iPods really live.”

Right?

Every so often, I pay a little visit to Windows Update, like a good little Windows user. This morning I did just that on my wife’s laptop since I’m using it while in L.A. this week. It turns out there were a couple of updates that she did need. (I guess?) But the most bizarre thing I saw actually had me laugh out loud while sitting in Starbucks.

Here’s a Windows Update item that you might be interested in… purely for its comic value. (Click image for larger version).

Wow. Basically, put another way, the “Files and Settings Transfer Wizard” does not actually transfer files and settings — despite its rather misleading moniker — and this 794k update is all that’s missing to make the utility work.

Lindows — now Linspire — is currently available for free over BitTorrent. (Link) It’s an incredibly well done professional linux distro for non-linux folks wanting to see what it’s all about. I have been messing around with a paid copy of LindowsOS for some time (49.95!) and I really like it. There are a number of features that actually make it a better option for someone completely new to using a computer. It’s very well thought out – the click ‘n run feature is by far the most unique and helpful idea ever for new users looking to seamlessly add software to their systems.

I like iTunes. I like Winamp. I use both. But the thing that kills me about iTunes is the fact that you can’t have its mini-player “Always on top” like you can with Winamp. iTunesOnTop takes care of that.

Dear Future Me,
In three years, check the results of this search against the results for this one.

And while you’re at it, in ten years, compare them to this search.

Oh yeah – one more thing: You’re out of milk.

Or at least that’s what it feels like. Getting it was marginally fun, like play…but getting rid of it is another story. I’m afraid I may be stuck with it for an as-yet undetermined length of long weighty time. I can’t quite say, but I’m pretty certain that I wish I had never gotten into Visual Basic.

Don’t misunderstand me though, the program I’m working on will surely help my research. The goal is for it to consolidate 4 other programs (written in various languages – Fortran, C, QuickBasic, Japanese) into one, slower, bloated piece. But nevermind that – the real stitch comes in trying to prevent crashes by anticipating every stupid thing a user could do. Like entering letters in a numeric field. Or feeding a sandwich through the drive door. I’m still working on the first one.

It’s rather strange though. I can’t get anyone at Tech to admit to using VB, though the guilt can be clearly seen spread across their promiscuous faces. Filthy bastards. I’d switch to a different language if it wasn’t already too late.

And in preparation for my trip to Japan, I’ve taken on learning one indispensable Japanese word each day. Today’s word is:

admonishment – kyoukai

I don’t think that this applies to most people, or even anyone else, but I have noticed an interesting trend in my family’s use our digital camera. Basically my sisters run around all day taking pictures of the cat doing silly things that the cat does every day. My Mom takes the occasional picture on the even less occasional family vacation and my Dad doesn’t touch the camera unless it is to hide it from my sisters. Now sure these are all fine things to take pictures of, but where do all of these pictures go? They certainly don’t stay on the camera, we need to delete them on the camera to take more pictures of the cat. So instead they are dumped in random places all over the computer. But where do they go after they are dumped on the computer, if not lost? They go to the recycle bin of course! I mean, where else would they logically go? Print them out and put them in photo albums and cherish them in old age? Nawwww, that would be the smart thing to do. All of this results in a cataclysmic system failure and a huge gap in my family’s photographed life. I am bad at ending posts, but do I win?