Congress and the Constitution

The Constitution has surprisingly little information about the specific responsibilities for the individuals in Congress. At the time the document was drafted, I’m sure it seemed obvious (self evident, if you will). There were relatively few states and they were more-or-less in agreement on the broad strokes of the Constitution. Keeping that in mind, I suppose it’s understandable why it seems our government is run by idiot children—they don’t have a lot of guidance.

We have a congressman chased out of office because he was silly enough to have photographed and shared a portion of his anatomy. We have others who seem occasionally-incapable of driving sober who get a free pass. That hints at the third-grade mindset that drives so much of what politicians do. Either be consistent and fair or keep your mouth shut. Let’s also consider the relative badness of the infractions; DUI resulting in death is way worse than a Weiner pic.

What government is supposed to be, what we must make it become, is the very best we—the Nation—have to offer. Instead, we have rampant narcissism and cowardice driving adult-sized children to play the most expensive Blame Game in history. We’re in the middle of several crises and my representatives—for brevity’s sake, I mean all of Congress—seem more focused on cementing their reelection and pleasing their constituency. Admirable causes, both, but at what cost?

We consistently believe we’re better than a fair percentage of the world. To some extent, that’s a measurable thing, but we can always do better. We can always be better. It was the tireless push to improve and to grow and to never give up that helped bring America from an abandoned group of colonies to the colossus it has become.

To the liberals, I ask that you accept the unfortunate truth that not everyone can be helped. We can cast the widest and strongest net possible, but there will always be someone a little farther out. At some point, we must expect people to swim. I don’t know where that line is, but it exists. Trying to save everyone, especially those unwilling to help themselves (unwilling to swim) will bankrupt the country and pretty much defines Communism.

To the conservatives, I ask that you remember government is needed. People need to be governed and many deserve some help. That has to come from somewhere. Taxes are necessary. Whether on the rich or the poor is immaterial for this letter; taxes must exist and they must exist in sufficient magnitude to make a difference and keep America the great country it is. Anarchy cannot be managed.

To Congress, I want you to know that most people are decent souls and would be willing to pay a little more or get a little less if we had any certainty that you could be trusted with those decisions. I’m not against paying more taxes as an absolute, but I don’t want to do it until you can show you care about my money. Use it wisely and efficiently. Don’t be children. I also don’t mind paying less tax, but I want underprivileged students to be able to pursue their educations. There is a balance to be struck and I’m not qualified to find it. Good thing we have responsible, mature representatives to deal with that, right?

As citizens, it is our responsibility to remain informed and to push our representatives to pursue what’s important to us. It is then the representatives’ responsibility to temper those wants and needs with what is best for the nation. Let us remember the Preamble of the Constitution:

We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.

And then let’s remember the Oath:

I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God.

It’s clear to me that the Constitution was created to ensure the good of the nation balances against the good of the states. To be a representative in the US, one must take the Oath above, committing themselves to supporting and defending the Constitution without reservation, without evasion. The bickering back and forth pulls focus away from the national wellbeing. Doing that instead of dealing with larger national issues—evading it, perhaps—is wrong. It’s also petty, disingenuous, unprofessional, and immature.

My challenge to every member of Congress is to take a deep breath and a mental step back. If you take a reasoned (and, presumably, reasonable) stand on an issue and are ousted next term, you’ll still be making tens of thousands of dollars more than most of an ailing nation with better healthcare than most can afford for the rest of your lives. Not a bad deal for going down in history as the honest politician.

Mr. President, put their feet to the fire. Leading is hard and you’re surrounded by people who don’t necessarily want you to succeed. Your task is to set the national direction. The best-remembered Presidents are those who confronted great challenges with a consistent message and without fear or equivocation.

I haven’t decided if a boardroom or classroom is a better way to conceptualize government, but in either case, some people need to be quieted down so the boss (or teacher) can speak. That speaker, however, must be willing to step on toes and hurt feelings when either gets in the way of the goal.

Duty and Faith

E. J. Dionne Jr. authored an opinion in The Washington Post entitled “America’s Elites Have a Duty to the Rest of Us.”

What I want to talk about starts in paragraph three: “But a funny thing happened to the American ruling class: It stopped being concerned with the health of society as a whole and became almost entirely obsessed with money.” This, as opposed to everyone else who isn’t getting their proverbial panties in a wad over money. Indeed, the very epitomes of asceticism, they.

That’s a bit of a low blow with a dash of “apples to oranges,” but it gets at what I feel is Dionne’s thesis: it is the responsibility of the so-called ruling class to fork over their earnings to allow the government to support everyone else.

I would love to pay less taxes. I just swallowed my first payment to Uncle Sam that had a comma in it, so I’m quite anxious to get those rates down. On the other hand, I work with orphans all day long whose lifeblood is the Pell educational grant that’s on the chopping block. I feel the benefits of the public assistance programs every day, and they help thousands of people--orphan and otherwise--achieve their goals.

What I think we (really “We”--the nation) are realizing is that we don’t trust our government. Not in that crazy, black helicopter sense. In the way that you just stop inviting cousin Steve over to visit because too many things have gone missing. The government has consistently proven its inability to commit to progress. When we have a President anxious to be a leader, we get a Congress that’s too busy covering its own ass. When we get members of Congress trying to lead from within, we have a President too terrified of making a stand.

Why should I, socially-conscious citizen that I am, be anxious and feel obligated to throw more of my hard-earned money into Congress’ black hole? What this means in a policy argument, I have no idea. I’m not that guy. Who I am--with all my heart, who I seek to be--is a person able to support myself and, one day, others. Doing what’s necessary and right is rarely easy.

We don’t do these things because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win. In September, 1962, President John Kennedy used those words in a speech that kicked off the Space Race. Nearly 50 years later, where are those who would take up his banner?

These Gears Laugh at Monkey Wrenches

Remember that post about Halo and its universe I love so much? I know it's been a while. Here's the short version: Halo is a universe (technically, only a galaxy) that is at once fully formed and left open to conjecture. It's amazing, and will be Bungie's legacy for a long time to come.

There are two similar video game franchises worth mentioning: Gears of War and Call of Duty. I find myself torn between Gears and Halo as my favorite. CoD...will be saved for the end.

I've been reading a Gears novelization, Anvil Gate, and I've been trying to figure out why I like it so much better than any of the Halo books, when I have reciprocal feelings about the games. It's an issue of emphasis.

First though, we need to talk about Gears a bit. Because it'll make me happy, that's why. Gears of War is set on the planet Sera way out wherever it is, in a far-flung future that I don't think is given a number. Fuel and lives are the only resources really worth discussing.

Everyone wants fuel. If only a few have it, then some diplomatic friction can result. The Pendulum War lasts for 79 years. Almost eight decades of continuous fighting and nearly two whole generations who have known nothing but war. The Coalition of Ordered Governments (COG) is the main political entity for our purposes. Their soldiers are called Gears. I think that's clever.

The COG...acquired a satellite-based laser technology that shifted the battle in their favor. It's called the Hammer of Dawn which only matters because it's a damn cool name. Even after all that time fighting, humans never got the chance to find peace; Murphy doesn't work that way.

Emergence Day is known around the planet as the day the Locust left their underground homes. Imagine the meanest person you've ever known with the hide of an elephant and the temper of a primed granade--that's a Locust. They attacked everything, everywhere. Twenty-five percent of the human population died in the first day and the uglies handily beat humans at every turn for a full year. We enter the world fourteen years after that.

With Sera in its 94th year of continuous warfare, with ever-diminishing odds of survival (never mind peace), what is it that allows those left to cling to sanity? Gears pokes its head into the psychology of war, suffering, and death. The player is handed the world, but has to figure out the characters.

Halo hands you a character and dares you to figure out where he fits into the galaxy.

I don't know which approach is more compelling, but medium always matters when telling a story. The fifth-grade adage of show-not-tell applies to all things. Showing a world is easier--more intuitive at least--through an interactive, visual medium. Illustrating the insights and nuances of a character is a task better-suited for the written word.

While compelling in any form, Halo found precisely its niche in video games. Gears is not a franchise to be taken lightly, but it shines most brightly with a little help from Karen Traviss and paper.

Call of Duty, excepting the most recent iteration, Black Ops, 'cause I've not played it, is comparatively boring. CoD is exactly what you'd expect from a first-person-shooter. It's fun and visceral and stressful for the sissies like me. It's also pretty predictable. The characters don't matter and could largely be transferred from one iteration to another without much noticeable change.

CoD is a blockbuster that rakes in millions of dollars every year, and may just generate a bit of flame in the comments, but this year's version stops mattering right around the time next year's is announced.

Some creations push a medium forward. Halo did a lot of the legwork. Gears has added some depth. CoD will come out next year, too.

What a Wretched Pile of Steaming Poo

For years, I've been comfortable in the knowledge that I don't like anything Quentin Tarantino touches. I can't quite pin down why, but it's pretty consistent. He's a little too aware that what he does isn't seen elsewhere. He seems more focused on imagery than story. He loves dialogue--just actors speaking. They don't have to really say anything. I don't mind a little bit of gruesome, but I have my limits.

I'm a fan of the more cut-and-dried "heroes" who make it very clear on which side they stand. That said, I recognize the storytelling-goldmine that is a more nuanced character. A little bit of personal turmoil or second thoughts are good places to draw the audience deeper into the narrative (if it's done well, of course).

Quentin (I asked, he's fine if I call him that) creates bland characters who curse more than a drunken Irish sailor who just broke a toe and was then shat upon by a seagull and then interact with those nearby using only their most base, predictable, and boring instincts. Then(!) he has the audacity to present these characters as some sort of commentary on the human condition or some such bullshit. I fully confess to not really paying attention anymore.

Then, I started seeing some ads for "Inglorious Basterds" and I had hoped that I could see in Quentin what so many have fawned over--talent. I like Brad Pitt and the main Nazi guy. They generally amuse me. I don't like Nazis. I don't mind violence. So far, so good. The clincher: people I trust told me it was good. Shit. Maybe I've been wrong all these years.

NOPE! Two-and-a-half hours. TWO-AND-A-HALF HOURS! Nothing happened. Nothing fucking happened for the whole goddamn movie. The characters I'd hoped to like turned out to be as smarmy as every other lead I've seen in a QT movie. The characters I'd started to like--the ones who made the occasional impression of emotion--ended up being as lifeless (and doomed) as I'd first feared.

The violence is grotesque and shows that the characters for whom I'm supposed to root are at least as bad as those they hunt. It's not even used as juxtaposition. If we saw what the Nazis were doing, and then saw the retaliation, maybe that could add some counterpoint. If the idea of becoming a monster in order to defeat one were explored, that could've been interesting.

Nazi leadership was portrayed as a bunch of overly-dramatic nincompoops who can scarcely pass each other in the hallway because they've got such hard-ons for the movie-within-a-movie that is at the core of what they'd call--a label applied in poor taste--the plot. It's like a cross between "The Birdcage" and a History Channel special. Except with a lot more Nathan Lane than black-and-white-footage.

We get a close-up view of Brad Pitt carving a swastika into a German soldier's forehead. We get a full-frame view of Hitler's face reduced to mush as one of our supposed good guys looses an entire clip of whatever-that-machine-gun-is-that-looks-a-lot-like-a-Thompson. That same supposed good guy gives us a wonderfully gruesome idea of what happens when a Louisville Slugger and cranium meet at high velocity. Several times. We see close-ups of scalpings.

"Inglorious Basterds" is a snuff film. QT either has some serious pent-up rage at the Nazi regime from 65+ years ago or he suspects the Jews are a stupendously violent group of people. Neither's rational (or true, I suspect). There's not a compelling argument that this movie was to tell a story. There's not a compelling argument that this movie was to show a place in time. There's not a compelling argument that this movie was to bring us into the mind of someone from the past.

I'm uncomfortable with a movie (and director) that sets a tale in this era and makes the Nazi colonel of the SS the most interesting and human character.

"Inglorious Basterds" is not even a little good. I don't have a redeeming quality to discuss. If I were to rate the movie on a five-point scale using my fingers, I'd punch it in the face.

From the Beginning, You Know the End

Halo: Reach is out. It's really, really good. This game is more than a sequel though; it's the culmination of a decade's work and refinement. Way back in 2000, visitors of E3 (Electronic Entertainment Expo) got the first glimpse of Halo.

I don't think it had a subtitle yet, but it also didn't really have a focus. That's a really long video in which nothing really happens. The world they show is huge! Rolling hills and a cool vehicle. Not much, looking back, but there's a kernel. Keep in mind that this video came out in an era when the most impressive gaming environment came from Super Mario 64 and the best shooter on a console was GoldenEye 007. I have fond memories of both, and I'm certain I was still playing GoldenEye around the time Halo started to matter.

Halo had another year to refine itself and became a launch title for Microsoft's Xbox in November, 2001. It hit big. The first I'd ever heard of the game was from a friend in high school who insisted I play. And play we did. I was enthralled. Halo: Combat Evolved was a beautiful (at the time) first-person shooter with good voice acting, a solid story, and an absolutely terrifying enemy. There are some levels in that game that work their way under your skin with ruthless timing--long, foreboding tunnels where nothing happens punctuated by frantic battles in close quarters where there is neither enough cover nor ammunition to guarantee survival.

Halo: CE was the first console-based game to really compete with what had already existed on computers for ages: compelling games with striking graphics. Xbox was about as powerful as many desktops at the time and game developers used that power to, for the first time, horn in on "real" gaming.

Halo has an awesome ending. Huge battle, witty dialogue, and victory. Very, very cool. The sequel was announced. I am so there!

It's worth mentioning that Halo: CE and Halo 2 are running on exactly the same hardware. The differences you see are all coding wizardry.

Halo 2 came out November, 2004 and was about as cool as its predecessor. I didn't bond as tightly this time around. The writing and voices that I liked were still present, but there was a spark missing. Trying too many new things? The story was too confusing I guess. Lots of moving parts. Alliances made and broken, but the player only knows that through implication. Successful in that I was probably as confused as Master Chief was, but that's not really praise.

The ending was brilliant though! Lots of people didn't like it. Lots of people didn't like it. It was a cliffhanger. Bungie, the developer, insists that wasn't the original plan. They needed to ship and were forced to choose between a completed story without polish or a truncated one with a glimmering sheen. I think they chose wisely.

Halo 2 suffered from unfortunate timing though. Almost exactly a year after Halo 2's launch, Microsoft released the Xbox 360. Where gamers had three years to devour the first game, the sequel had scarcely one. For those unfamiliar, games of the previous generation often stop mattering once they're successfully associated with "previous".

Naturally, when Halo 3 was released in September 2007, people were excited. It helped that Bungie and Microsoft marketed hard. The Halo 3 ads were some of the most ambitious and engaging things I've ever seen. The first was the 60-second teaser. Premiered during a Super Bowl, if memory serves. Shortly before release, we saw some gameplay. We'd expected those. "Believe"ing was a bonus.

The "Believe" ads stand out in my head even now, three or four years removed from them. Seeing them (research for this post) still takes me back to that place of unbridled excitement. We have "Museum", "Enemy Weapon", "Hunted", and "Gravesite". Microsoft commissioned a diorama to represent the final battle with the Covenant; it was 1200 square feet and nine feet tall! You can still see it here. Finally, Neill Blomkamp (of "District 9" fame) released three live-action shorts set in the Halo universe. They were later cut together and dubbed "Landfall".

Halo 3 was a good game. The bar was set and Bungie's popularity reached a nerd critical mass where they could release pretty much anything they wanted and be successful. The next installment was Halo 3: ODST and surprised gamers in several ways. Master Chief wasn't in this one. You were an Orbital Drop Shock Trooper--Marines dropped from space into active battlefields to break the enemy. The ODST motto: "Jumping feet first into hell isn't your job; making sure it's crowded when you get there is." We get a glimpse into this mindset with another remarkable video.

Now we have Halo: Reach. I am Noble 6 of Noble Team. The FNG. Reach is a human colony. The single most important, heavily fortified planet humanity can call home other than Earth. Anything spooky and powerful starts there. The Covenant, the bad guys, finds the planet and breaks the defenses. With the fall of Reach, it's only a matter of time until humanity follows--until the Covenant find Earth. All we have are losing battles, but we continue fighting. We fight because the alternative is extinction. We fight because if the inevitable is delayed only moments, those are moments of freedom.

This is Reach. "From the beginning, you know the end." There are no happy endings here. You fight and claw and struggle because the alternatives aren't on the table. This game is what happens after ten years of honing one's craft. Everything feels right.

For a decade, Bungie has set the standard time and again with their releases. Some games do some things better than Halo, but none come together as neatly. They are among precious few developers who continue pushing the medium forward. Too many find a formula that works--that sells the most copies. Bungie found a world. They built a universe on imagination, hope, music and writing. It's that universe that I find engaging. It's that universe that I look forward to.

Halo: Reach is Bungie's swan song; it's the last Halo game they're making. The property belongs to Microsoft. Games will still be made, I'm sure, but I worry. There's more to this than code and physics and bitmapping. There's the world. I worry that'll be lost. Time will tell.

For now, Reach is a fantastic game. It feels like Halo: CE did eons ago, but it, too, has grown up.

Mondays.

I hate them.

*edit*

I suppose I could expound a bit more. The day started off rocky. I had the standard laundry list of Shit-That-Needs-To-Get-Done-Right-Now and was plugging away until I had to start touch-typing because I couldn't focus my eyes any longer. I'd resigned myself to Monday.

Then things got worse.

A usually-offsite employee was visiting the office because he was in the area. He's a nice guy who's gone out of his way to say very nice things about what I do and has given me a place to vent some frustrations. Let's call him Joe.

Joe sat in the cubicle across the way from mine and diligently typed away at whatever work he had. I marveled at his posture. All the way back in the seat, back straight, wrists also straight. A man familiar with long days in the same position and doing his best to avoid stress injuries.

The dull clacks of his keyboard couldn't compete my headphones as I delved deeper and more completely into my responsibilities. It was early afternoon--what passes for lunchtime with my schedule--when I finally allowed myself a break. My eyes ached and I wanted nothing more than to take a nap. I glanced over to Joe and he was leaning back with a towel against his eyes.

Hell, if Joe can do it, so can I. I slouched a bit, interlaced my fingers behind my head, and closed my eyes for a few minutes. And no, I didn't take that nap!

I was better. I could see again. And wouldn't you know it? There were more emails to address! Happy coincidences!

I was in the home stretch! Twenty-five minutes and I was done for the day. Eight hours was all I had the stomach for today.

I heard a thump.

I looked over to see Joe just finish falling out of his chair and under his desk. I smiled. He'd taken his nap at last, but didn't consider the low coefficient of friction that our chairs provide. Rookie mistake.

He lingered there too long. I walked over to help him up. His eyes were open. Locked forward.

"Joe?" I grabbed his arm to give a little shake. Room temperature never felt so cold. What do I do? Who do I tell? I know this stuff.

I start asking for a second opinion. No. I know this stuff. 911. We need an ambulance. Joe's not responding to his fall; close enough to non-responsive for me. Cold can't be a positive symptom. Was he breathing? Shit, I don't know. Does that matter? No. I live my life noticing anomalies. Small things change everywhere every day and I notice them. These are already big damn anomalies. Something is wrong. The rest doesn't matter. Not my job to sort through the minutiae.

I'd meandered to the front desk during my musing (not that far, I promise), "Beth, we need 911. Joe fell out of his chair and he's cold to the touch." She did as requested.

What now? I can't just wait. I also can't leave him squeezed under that desk. Sally's come over to help. We roll him on to his back and get a cushion under his head. He's still cold. Shit. I don't remember CPR that well. I learned long ago that rubbing knuckles against a sternum hurts like hell. I also happen to know that's an EMT-y thing to try.

He responds! Only a grunt, but it's life! He can't grunt if he's not breathing and and can't breathe unless his heart's working. He's still in bad shape, but he's alive.

And I don't have to do CPR! Fine, not all my thoughts were altruistic. Sue me.

Then he vomits. Gross. Involuntary muscles are working. Brain's still processing stimuli. Obstructed airway? Fight-or-flight response? Doesn't matter. He's still alive, but in danger of choking. Sally helps me get Joe onto his side. At least now whatever didn't escape his jaw won't fall back in and cause problems.

Somehow, someone else in the building is here to help. He works in a quasi-medical office down the hall. Steve, I'd guess. Steve finds the pulse. Good thing to check. Joe's still clammy, but only cool now. There's a pulse. Sure, that's implied by everything else, but feeling the surge of blood is reassuring.

Where the hell is that ambulance? How long has it been? Still doesn't matter. Joe is still alive and about as safe as I can make him.

The ambulance arrives and does its thing. The baton is passed and now it's someone else's turn to do their best.

I don't yet know if a life was saved, but I take solace in knowing that I did my level best at keeping any more slipping away. For now, small victories are still victories. I'm thrilled that I could do something more than just stand there. I'm thrilled to think that Joe might've dodged a bullet. I'm happy to hear nice things said about me--better than mean things. What apparently seemed like calm knowledge to others was a barely-controlled panic in my head.

I still feel like I'm fighting off the adrenaline-shakes.

How was your Monday?

*edit for new info 8/31/10*

Joe's fine. Too much insulin in his system. He may spend another night in the hospital, but we're assured it's just for observation.

Take That, Jesus Diaz!

Well, I’ve had my iPhone4 for a couple of days now and I love it! I have two years to sing its praises. There are some, though, who are similarly enthused aginast the iPhone. Some protest because they just bought an EVO 4G. Some don’t like anything Apple does. Then there are some who just seem to miss the point. This essay is in response to a particular member of the latter group.

Gizmodo.com is scarcely a reliable source of information. To the skeptical reader (me), much of what they post feels...let’s say “borrowed” from other sources. They’ve done some sketchy things in the past that’ve earned them a solid spot on the second-and-a-half tier of Internet news.

Most recently, they sort of stole the iPhone4 from an Apple employee. Okay, they only subsidized someone else’s theft of said phone from said employee. After that, they took it apart, posted photos and videos online, and then hid behind journalistic rights when Apple got pissed. Curiously, Giz didn’t get a review unit. It’s okay though, they let the users post their own review in a hive-mind, cluster-fuck style. Lame.

Even more recently--yes, even more recent than “most”--Giz published an article describing the iPhone4’s flaws and design “failures” entitled “Fragile Beauty.”

The real critique begins in the third paragraph, "Your industrial design sucks because, despite your sheer beauty, your blazing speed, and having the best software in any smartphone today, Jon Ive and his team didn’t completely follow their beloved Dieter Rams‘ guidelines for good design." Translation: “Your phone sucks except for all the awesome stuff.” The emphasis on "completely" is theirs. There’s a lot of article left; I’m sure Giz’s justifications will become more clear.

I agree with the next paragraph that good design is defined by durability, both physical and temporal. A well-designed object can’t be easily scratched or otherwise damaged. It should “arrive to the future and feel at home and natural.”

I can think of few other devices that more closely follow these principles than the iPhone. Actually, I can’t think of any devices. Perhaps the greatest evidence is that the one thing that most-consistently foreshadows an Apple product’s entry into obsolescence is the next Apple product.

The iPhone isn’t easily scratched or shattered. It took Giz several purposeful drops to get the shatter they wanted. Others have complained about shattered screens after only dropping them a foot or so. Dropping a car from 12 inches will shake pieces loose, why should a phone, that's designed to live its life in a case or pocket, be more durable?

This teaches me that my tech gurus are idiots. They get a device that fits very comfortably in a pocket with more processing power than desktops from the early 2000s, with a richer software environment than any competitor, and deeper tech support than any other industry, and they complain that it breaks when dropped on pavement.

Well, no shit.

Farther down the article, we learn that the reason we “never” see items made of glass is because it--the glass--can break. Even allowing some leeway for the hyperbole that is “never,” the assertion bothers me. Generally, the harder something is, the more easily it cracks or shatters. On the other hand, making something truly shatter-proof would yield a surface similar to cellophane. Also, it would scratch.

I imagine this is an issue that plagues material engineers all day long. The best we, the user, can hope for is a nice middle-ground. From what I can tell, the iPhone4 has that balance: it won’t scratch or shatter easily, but both can happen.

Giz emphasizes their point with the questionable statement, “The fact is that, at the end of the day, dropping the phone while handling it is something that everyone will suffer sooner or later.” Again with the hyperbole!

Wait! We have an anonymous expert who can fully explain the problem? Maybe this is real journalism, after all.

At least Giz offers some alternative materials to glass. After all, it’s silly to critique without offering a solution. “Steel, aluminum, ceramics, teflon-coated materials, even wood” could be used on the back face. Since Giz’s main problems with the glass thus far have been scratching, cracking, and being slippery, I’m not sure what these materials are supposed to do.

Oh, it’s explained in the next paragraph. These materials all “age more gracefully.” I’m not sure that’s true. Steel and aluminum can scratch and scuff and get ugly, even if the surfaces aren’t polished. Ceramics are famously prone to chipping. “Teflon-coated materials” is uselessly vague, but would probably still scratch. Also, I’ve heard that Teflon is kinda slippery. Wood? Don’t be stupid.

A more legitimate critique is the antenna issue. If the lower-left corner of the phone is covered by a conductive material like, say, a hand, then the cellular signal noticeably degrades. I’ve seen this degradation on my phone.

Fortunately, I’m right-handed.

Apple’s officially offered a solution: hold the phone differently. Okay, Mr. Jobs. Part of the issue, Giz contends, and a seemingly-partial source of ire, is that the people affected by the poor signal are “holding the phone exactly like Apple shows in their ads and webpages.” Exactly? Hyperbole...and nitpicky, I know.

Don’t tell me! Is it possible that some of the promotional images are not raw, candid photographs of users have the time of their lives? Could I be overusing sarcasm? I think so.

The implication that the affected users now favor their left hands because that’s what they saw online is silly. That happens because, for whatever reason, some people use their left hand to make calls.

While Apple’s solution pleases me with its tone, I agree that it doesn’t address the underlying issue. It would be better if the device had been engineered in such a way that this wasn’t a problem at all. Since this is and issue--one of which I’m sure Apple was aware--and they released anyway, I’m gonna guess that the engineering- and design-based solutions are really hard.

Did anyone notice that Apple released a case (of sorts) along with the phone? They’ve never released a case before and this one supposedly fixes the signal issue. Giz doesn’t see this as a real solution because the flaw still exists. Users have three choices: hold it differently, buy a case, or lose signal quality.

While not perfect, these are reasonable options.

“Good design is unobtrusive. It can’t limit the user expression, much less obligate him to act in a certain way.” In principle, I agree, but the design and “obligation” are not obtrusive. Non-ideal, perhaps, but that’s as far as I can go.

In an astonishing abuse of the rhetorical-question-to-prove-a-point structure, they have the following:

"Jon Ive, do you think Dieter Rams would have asked people to place his T 1000 world receiver in a certain place of the house to have clear reception? Do you think he would have asked consumers to hold his Braun T3 pocket radio in a certain way to listen to the Beatles with perfect sound quality?"

Giz asserts that the answer is “no,” but I’m not convinced. Let’s say I really wanted to use both radios in my lead-lined room inside a Faraday cage. Dieter might recommend I rethink that. If there are specific and predictable circumstances under which a device will not operate, it is not inappropriate for a manufacturer to recommend the consumer avoid those circumstances.

For the same reason I don’t bother warming my CDs in a microwave oven or I wait to make toast until before or after my shower, I have no problem simply avoiding the lower-left corner of my phone. Until I get one of those bumpers. Then, that corner is mine.

Perhaps it’s a personal failing that I’m not more up in arms over this. If I drop a call because I’m holding the phone wrongly, then I’ll say “damn,” call back, apologize to the other person, and go from there. If my phone breaks because I dropped it from any height, I’ll scream “MOTHER-FUCKER!” and then bring it to the Apple Store.

It’s foolish for users to expect a hammer-and-nail sort of intuitive functionality, adamantium-grade durability, with an Apple aesthetic. Apple has released a phone that’s more powerful, prettier, and more durable than any of its competitors. It’s not perfect though, so keep it tucked away in a safe place and grasp it carefully.