The original written by Sonny Bono. Has a kind of a western lilt to it. Cher (USA, 1966).
Nancy Sinatra (USA, 1967?). Probably the most popular version after the release of Tarantino's Kill Bill v1.
EQUIPE 84 (Italy, 1966-69?)
Dalida (Italy)
Mina, (in Italian)
Paolo Nautini (Ireland, 2007?)
Notorious B.I.G (1995?)
Kardinal Offishall (2004, Canada)
Melanie Durrant (2005, Canada)
Friday, January 29, 2010
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Another bad bargain.
A republican assemblyman from San Diego wants to force Google to blur Street View images of potential terrorist targets, like schools and hospitals.
I got into an argument about the implications of such a law on Download Squad of all places. Such law would be asinine I argued, because in blurring the images the government would essentially be creating a "hit list" of potential targets. A terrorist not familiar with California infrastructure would need only look at what is blurred on the map to see what the municipal government considers to be its most vulnerable assets. Further detail about these public buildings would be easily accessible in person, from street level.
The Indian courts are considering a similar piece of legislation in the aftermath of the Mumbai attacks. The terrorists may have used Google Earth to plan and execute their actions, but remember that they also have used boats, automobiles, and cellular phones. And together with Google services these same technologies allowed for the efficient operation of the rescue efforts.
"They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety," Benjamin Franklin wrote in 1775. Street View is not an essential liberty, but open access to technology and information is essential. It empowers all citizens, and we should make sure we don't trade it, piecemeal, for some provisional notions of security.
I got into an argument about the implications of such a law on Download Squad of all places. Such law would be asinine I argued, because in blurring the images the government would essentially be creating a "hit list" of potential targets. A terrorist not familiar with California infrastructure would need only look at what is blurred on the map to see what the municipal government considers to be its most vulnerable assets. Further detail about these public buildings would be easily accessible in person, from street level.
The Indian courts are considering a similar piece of legislation in the aftermath of the Mumbai attacks. The terrorists may have used Google Earth to plan and execute their actions, but remember that they also have used boats, automobiles, and cellular phones. And together with Google services these same technologies allowed for the efficient operation of the rescue efforts.
"They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety," Benjamin Franklin wrote in 1775. Street View is not an essential liberty, but open access to technology and information is essential. It empowers all citizens, and we should make sure we don't trade it, piecemeal, for some provisional notions of security.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Google's Terms of Service
Here is something to think about: the contract you make with Google in using (most of) their services. Their standard formula is:
The above comes from Google App Engine, but it is pretty much the same for GWT, AJAX APIs, and Gmail. The formulation is particularly troublesome for academic applications. I don't mind giving up my personal email, but my work? Actually, I take it back. The distinction is moot: my Gmail account is already handling most of my (and my students') university mail, which often includes attachments that range from family photos to dissertation drafts. Sure, today, Google is a benevolent giant. The company simply wants to help you index and search your data. But, tomorrow it may decide to expand, or it may be bought out by other, more sinister interests. And then: all your base are belong to us.
Should we be worried? Let's take a closer look at the formulation. When using (almost) anything made by Google, you, the user, retain the rights to your content. At the same time, you grant Google a license to use any such content (to perform it even!)...in return for a free service. Is this a good deal? Should we continue leveraging Google's engineering (in my case, to make neat tools for digital humanities) or rely on our own, more limited resources?
The answer to that question may be in your Gmail inbox. Some 30 million users per month agree to the Terms of Service to gain access to the best webmail client around. I know I did. I also use Google Calendar, Google Docs, and (the now defunct) Google Notebook daily. My colleagues have developed wonderful applications using Google APIs. It seems to be worth it for now. But we need to think about what we are giving away in the future.
8.1. Google claims no ownership or control over any Content or Application. You retain copyright and any other rights you already hold in the Content and/or Application, and you are responsible for protecting those rights, as appropriate. By submitting, posting or displaying the Content on or through the Service you give Google a worldwide, royalty-free, and non-exclusive license to reproduce, adapt, modify, translate, publish, publicly perform, publicly display and distribute such Content for the sole purpose of enabling Google to provide you with the Service in accordance with its privacy policy. Furthermore, by creating an Application through use of the Service, you give Google a worldwide, royalty-free, and non-exclusive license to reproduce, adapt, modify, translate, publish, publicly perform, publicly display and distribute such Application for the sole purpose of enabling Google to provide you with the Service in accordance with its privacy policy.
The above comes from Google App Engine, but it is pretty much the same for GWT, AJAX APIs, and Gmail. The formulation is particularly troublesome for academic applications. I don't mind giving up my personal email, but my work? Actually, I take it back. The distinction is moot: my Gmail account is already handling most of my (and my students') university mail, which often includes attachments that range from family photos to dissertation drafts. Sure, today, Google is a benevolent giant. The company simply wants to help you index and search your data. But, tomorrow it may decide to expand, or it may be bought out by other, more sinister interests. And then: all your base are belong to us.
Should we be worried? Let's take a closer look at the formulation. When using (almost) anything made by Google, you, the user, retain the rights to your content. At the same time, you grant Google a license to use any such content (to perform it even!)...in return for a free service. Is this a good deal? Should we continue leveraging Google's engineering (in my case, to make neat tools for digital humanities) or rely on our own, more limited resources?
The answer to that question may be in your Gmail inbox. Some 30 million users per month agree to the Terms of Service to gain access to the best webmail client around. I know I did. I also use Google Calendar, Google Docs, and (the now defunct) Google Notebook daily. My colleagues have developed wonderful applications using Google APIs. It seems to be worth it for now. But we need to think about what we are giving away in the future.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Better than fruit.
It is unfortunate that these days, the term 'PC' is understood to stand in contrast to 'Mac'. We can thank the marketing geniuses from Apple for that. But if you think about it, the famous Apple commercial offers a nonsensical proposition: a Mac is a personal computer. This would be like a banana vendor advertising her bananas as being better than 'fruit'. A Macintosh may be more delicious than other fruits, but it is still a fruit. What is going on here?
I have always been a fan of open-platform PCs. Early personal computers were sold as kits, to be assembled at home. And until the advent of laptops it was relatively easy to get inside the box, to poke around, to swap out a card or two. Today, this legacy lives on in manufacturer-independent, free and open platforms such as Linux or Android.
In contrast, Apple has almost always preferred a closed-system machine. Such devices may offer a better user experience, but also tend to be more expensive and more restrictive. To change your iPhone battery you need to send the phone to the manufacturer. To install software you need to use Apple's cleverly named App Store.
These services make Apple a lot of money. Apple would just love it if you bought your music from them, backed up your data on their servers, and used their technicians for simple repairs. And herein lies the genius of Apple marketing. In framing the conversation around the nonsensical Mac/PC divide, the company obfuscates the fact that it wants to monopolize the way you experience personal computing devices. The alternative to Apple is not Microsoft, but everybody else: any computer manufacturer coupled with any operating system.
But as we know, the Mac guy is young, creative, hip, and successful. The PC is chubby and wears pleated pants. The marketing says: owning a Mac will make you better than those other schlubs. You belong with the skinny-jeans crowd.
I understand why people buy Macs. Apple makes beautiful gadgets. However, it puzzles me as to why so many otherwise smart, creative, and independent-thinking individuals feel the need to voluntarily and vociferously propagate Apple's advertising strategy.
Here then is a toast to open systems. To platform-independent software. To making your own coffee, changing your own light-bulbs and phone batteries. Here is to fanboys and fangirls of none.
I have always been a fan of open-platform PCs. Early personal computers were sold as kits, to be assembled at home. And until the advent of laptops it was relatively easy to get inside the box, to poke around, to swap out a card or two. Today, this legacy lives on in manufacturer-independent, free and open platforms such as Linux or Android.
In contrast, Apple has almost always preferred a closed-system machine. Such devices may offer a better user experience, but also tend to be more expensive and more restrictive. To change your iPhone battery you need to send the phone to the manufacturer. To install software you need to use Apple's cleverly named App Store.
These services make Apple a lot of money. Apple would just love it if you bought your music from them, backed up your data on their servers, and used their technicians for simple repairs. And herein lies the genius of Apple marketing. In framing the conversation around the nonsensical Mac/PC divide, the company obfuscates the fact that it wants to monopolize the way you experience personal computing devices. The alternative to Apple is not Microsoft, but everybody else: any computer manufacturer coupled with any operating system.
But as we know, the Mac guy is young, creative, hip, and successful. The PC is chubby and wears pleated pants. The marketing says: owning a Mac will make you better than those other schlubs. You belong with the skinny-jeans crowd.
I understand why people buy Macs. Apple makes beautiful gadgets. However, it puzzles me as to why so many otherwise smart, creative, and independent-thinking individuals feel the need to voluntarily and vociferously propagate Apple's advertising strategy.
Here then is a toast to open systems. To platform-independent software. To making your own coffee, changing your own light-bulbs and phone batteries. Here is to fanboys and fangirls of none.
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