studionebula.com

IMG_0213, originally uploaded by Adam Schabtach.

Our hibiscus is blooming gloriously, and our dahlias are doing well despite having been planted later in the year than was ideal. I just posted some photos of the flowers in my flickr site, in a new category just for flowers, which you can reach by clicking here.

Since I’m intimately involved with two different online businesses, I occasionally encounter some well-meaning person who is reluctant–or refuses–to use their credit card to make purchases online. Apparently they’re concerned that their card information will somehow be hijacked and don’t quite understand the implications of SSL and the other measures that online businesses use to dramatically reduce the odds of such theft occurring. I’ve always wondered whether these same people are comfortable disclosing their credit-card information in other ways, such as handing it to an underpaid waitperson in some restaurant and letting the card (complete with the cardholder’s signature and the security code from the signature panel) disappear entirely from their sight for a number of minutes. Who do you think is really concerned more about the security of your card data: an online retailer whose entire business is at stake if their operation isn’t secure, or some employee in some physical establishment who can easily disavow any responsibility? After all, it’s the owner of the establishment who’s responsible for the data security, not the employee.

Anyway, that was a roundabout way of introducing this article, which demonstrates quite succinctly that your credit-card data is no safer in a physical store than it is in an online store. In fact, it may be less safe to shop in a store. Breaking the encryption that is used for secure online transactions is not a trivial operation. I doubt very much that anyone can do it while driving around with a laptop. In other words, physical stores like OfficeMax and Barnes & Noble are doing less to ensure the security of your credit card than even tiny businesses running SSL-protected websites.

I inadvertently saved the best for last, it seems. Sakura Mist is really good.

It’s lightly carbonated and not terribly sweet. (If I’m deciphering the label correctly, it has less than half of the sugar of most American sodas.) It has a very subtle flavor. I think it’s cherry flavored in that nebulous way that artificial cherry has a flavor that doesn’t really taste like cherries. I could drink a lot of the stuff if I had a ready supply of it.

The strangest thing about it is its scent. When I opened the bottle and sniffed it, I immediately thought “oh, it smells just like–” and then couldn’t think of what it smells just like. I handed the bottle to Tracie and she had the same reaction: it smells exactly like something we can’t place. It’s an odd experience.

Before opening it I noticed that there are several numbered sentences on the label. Wondering whether they were instructions I should follow (since the Fanta’s instructions are relevant to its consumption) I asked Rafael for a translation. Here is his response:

Numbers on Sakura Mist???

Let me grab a bottle and check…

OMG… cannot believe these instructions/recommendations are so lame….

1. You CAN divide 1 bottle of Sakura Mist and enjoy 2 GLASSES OF SAKURA MIST

2. Respectively you can add one shot of Vodka…. (VERY GOOD RECOMMENDATION.. I might follow it!!!)

3, If you steer quietly your cocktail, you can enjoy it with someone special

Small print: Alcohol for 20 y/o and older

And it’s true, it would be good with vodka in it, if I still drank alcohol.

It’s good stuff, and besides it has this pretty picture of a cherry tree on the logo:

One has to laugh at some of the juxtapositions that the Google AdWords AI creates sometimes. There’s an article here in today’s online New York Times about the scientist who was apparently behind the letters laden with a toxic substance whose name I’d rather not let search engines find in my blog. In a sidebar on the same page appeared these ads:

Nice, eh? The link for the last one goes to this page, which offers products in the “Mass Fatality” category. The EveryBody Coffin (the name is trademarked, by the way) is described as “[a]n affordable wooden coffin for dignified disaster response.” On the same page you can find body bags and “Post-Mortem Shroud Kits”. Minimum order on the coffins is 10 units, by the way.

They’ve got some other neat stuff, too, like barricade tape, hazardous materials suits, and even a cooling vest for canine units.

There’s a video at a site called The Story of Stuff which everyone should watch. It’ll consume 20 minutes of your precious time but do it anyway. To quote the introductory paragraph on the site, “It’ll teach you something, it’ll make you laugh, and it just may change the way you look at all the stuff in your life forever.”

It’s hot today (which is not news–it’s been hot for weeks) so I thought I’d crack open a nice blue Pepsi.

I assume the name is a reference to the mixed drink, but there’s no alcohol in it. It’s quite good. It tastes like pineapple, mostly; I don’t really notice the lemon. It doesn’t take like standard Pepsi cola at all, and is somewhat less carbonated than usual.

I assume that this is one of the series of limited-edition Pepsi flavors and hence will vanish by the end of the summer. I’ll savor my three bottles.

I don’t think that it’s actually called Gooey Fanta, but I can’t read Japanese so I don’t know what its real name is. In any case, I tried the orange flavored Fanta today.

Notice the little pictures of oranges and grapes shaking cans. It was impressed upon me that you have to shake this stuff vigorously before opening it, so I did. There seems to be some explanation also, but again I can’t read it.

Isn’t there something faintly cannabalistic about a bunch of grapes merrily shaking a can of grape soda? Anyway, I shook the stuff up and tried it. It’s very much like orange soda with little bits of orange Jell-o floating in it. I think that the gelatinous stuff fizzes a little if you happen to press a lump of it against the roof of your mouth with your tongue.

It’s definitely better than the Capsela–kind of good, even. I’m not sure whether it would catch on in the American market since it is odd to find faintly slimy stuff in your soda. (I don’t know whether it’s catching on in the Japanese market, for that matter.) I wonder whether it comes in lime–that could be excellent. (Lime was always my favorite Jell-o flavor.)

Just got back from a trip downtown in the heat, so I thought I’d crack a cool beverage from Japan. I decided to try Capsela first.

You’ll note that the label makes a point of mentioning its vitamin content. The bottle is sort of capsule-shaped also. This might explain why it reminds me faintly of some sort of medicine. It’s not carbonated, slightly viscous, sour and not at all sweet, and lemon-flavored. It also has little round yellow blobs floating in it.

Those blobs have nearly neutral bouyancy, which is a neat trick. This beverage may have been inspired by Orbitz, another blob-laden soft drink that appeared (briefly) on the American beverage market about 10 years ago and met with dismal failure. The blobs themselvs are about the consistency of cooked peas, minus their skins. Yes, they’re a little odd.

Overall, Capsela is not bad, but I probably won’t seek it out next time I’m in Japan.

I just received something wonderful from our dear friend Rafael: a selection of unusual soft drinks from Japan:

Yes, that really is blue Pepsi there on the left, and a pink Canada Dry product. I’ll post descriptions of each as I try them over the coming days.

I used to think of Belkin as an above-average source of stuff for computers like cables and adapters and stuff. They may or may not be that, but now I have no reason to think that they support their products any better than anyone else who sells Chinese cables and adapters and stuff. I have a Belkin UPS for one of my computers. It’s a fine unit, no complaints with it. Its little LED and beeper informed me recently that its battery had expired. This was no great surprise; batteries wear out, and I’ve had the unit for awhile.

I dug up the manual from my stash of manuals (yes, I tend to save manuals for dumb things like UPSes) and found that there was no information in it about obtaining a new battery other than the directive that I visit belkin.com. So I did that, found the information page for my particular UPS, and found that there was not much to be had there other than a PDF of the manual I had just dug up. Nor was there anything in their customer support information database about replacing batteries for any of their UPSes. Eventually I found a means to submit a query by email, so I sent them the following message:

The battery in my UPS has failed. How do I obtain a replacement? Thanks for your assistance.

(There were little pull-down menus and stuff that provided them with the model and serial number of my unit, too.) Then, knowing full well that my odds of getting a useful response from them in a useful period of time–this is the UPS that my music computer runs on–I did a little googling, found a good source of batteries for a variety of needs, and ordered one up.

Today I heard from Belkin. They sent me a message with a link to click so that I could read their response. No, I don’t know why they couldn’t just send me their response. Here’s the beginning of their response, verbatim:

Hi Adam,

Thank you for contacting Belkin Technical Support.

We understand that, You have a Battery Backup with Broadband Surge Protection (750VA), And want to replace the battery. In that case i request you to check with radi shacks and they will help you replacing the battery. Please check the steps given below to replace the battery.

It went on to tell me how to swap the battery, which is information that I didn’t ask for and don’t need since it’s already provided in the manual (in correct English, even). But that aside, “radi shacks”? I guess they mean Radio Shack, but c’mon, what are the odds of getting a useful result if I wander in to a Radio Shack carrying a non-Tandy-made UPS? The place I ordered the battery from had hundreds of types of batteries; what are the odds that a local Radio Shack has the battery I need on their shelf? This would be like me directing an Audio Damage customer to Steinberg when they ask me about a problem they’re having with a plug-in I created.

The best part is the closure to the letter:

If you need further assistance please feel free to write back to us and we will be happy to assist you.

Regards,

Nixon.

Belkin Technical Support

First, I don’t see that they’d actually be happy to assist me since they didn’t seem to be interested in assisting me in the first place. Second, if that guy’s name is really Nixon, my name is Gandhi.