10 Top Predictions for the Web in 2010

1) In December 2010, people will be making lame predictions for 2011
2) We will have at least one strong candidate for "The Next Facebook" and for "The Next Twitter" but they will fizzle everywhere but Asia.
3) The radio industry will continue to flounder in the digital space while hiding head in sand, with a few notable exceptions
4) We will see ambitious plans to tax everything that can be taxed. Can you tax a tweet?
5) The telcos will successfully kill or at least damage network neutrality
6) IP V6 will still not happen
7) Google will be massively hacked, or possibly be victimized by social engineering, resulting in a serious privacy meltdown. Most people won't care much.
8) Thinkgeek will again have some wonderful April Fool's products, and people will be fooled.
9) Bacon. 2010 is the year of digital bacon.
10) Rupert Murdoch will still not get a clue.

How Did this Schmuck Get My Name?

Last time I googled myself, a few months ago, the top results were all about some lame coach in Michigan who sent raunchy photos of himself to a player's mom and accidentally sent it to the whole mailing list or something. Fail. For the record, that ain't me.

There's effective SEO for you! Do something really terminally stupid, like trying to send a nekkid photo of yourself to some cougar and lose your gig when you end up spamming everybody on an email list, and your Google rankings will go WAY up.

There's the Roger Coryell who is an award-winning architect in Seattle. He does good work. never met the guy, but he's a credit to our name.

And there's the late Roger Coryell who was a great DJ in Hawaii (people always thought we were related because we shared a name and a livelihood, and he was a true talent and a heck of a nice guy the few times we spoke, but no relation.)

Then there's me, your friendly radio guy and web marketer and all around garlic-lovin' fool. For the record, I don't know from baseball and don't care, I've never been to Michigan, and I'm not some technologically-illiterate silverback jock . . . but unfortunately, I do share the guy's name. Annoying to see him getting all the search engine attention because of his bad judgement.

So it was really refreshing this morning, when I gave into the temptation to Google myself, to see my blog posts about Hector the Cat at the top of the rankings. Yay! Go Hector! Cat power! Maybe I hit on a new secret SEO trick?

Weather

I wish it would rain. No, not like that Temptations song. No broken hearts here. I just like rain, and fog, mixed in with crisp sunny winter days. I don't live in the Bay Area because I want monotonous L.A. weather. And I'm tired of lame perky weather people complaining about a little moisture and few clouds. Go back to... wherever!

I wish it would rain just so I could have an excuse to crank up the woodstove in the bedroom. I love cold, wet rainy Bay Area days, as long as we don't get too many of them in a row, and as long as I have plenty of firewood.

Bay Area Air Quality Management hates people like me, I think. They like to demonize wood heat. But a good efficient modern EPA-certified woodstove burning hardwood emits hardly any soot, and a negligable amount of harmful gas. Wood heat can be clean and very efficient. Look it up, you'll be surprised. Wood is a renewable resource too.

It's just a lot easier to demonize independent folks who burn wood than to criticize and penalize our industrial infrastructure, power plants, diesel trucks, and the like. Has anybody done the math about how much we pollute and how much we waste just to compensate for line loss and inefficiency in the electric power grid?

I'm not one to worry too much about conspiracies. But I am not sure a world where one depends entirely upon the inefficient, expensive, bureaucratic centralized urban infrastructure for heat and fuel and light is a good thing. In fact, I'm pretty convinced of the contrary.

Hector's New Life

Maybe six months ago, I blogged about Hector, the wild cat of the jungle here on Altura Place. And I predicted that he might someday retire to a life of ease as an indoor cat.

A month ago, my prediction came true. He injured his leg pretty badly, and came to us for help. He actually let Lark pick him up. This is an uncommon event.

After a vet visit, we moved him into my office to recuperate. He's an older cat, and had lost a lot of weight too, so the recuperation period is extending into a retirement as we fatten him up.

Funny, this cat who would never let anyone approach in the outdoors has turned into an aggressive cuddle cat. As I work at the computer, he strafes my legs, sticks the scruff of his neck into my hand, and yells at me until I pick him up and scratch his ears dammit.

We built him a little outdoor cat-walk cage area outside the window, a 4x5 wire mesh box that extends into the patio, so he can watch the world go by, and see sky and trees. But so far, he seems to be happier taking over the guestroom bed, yelling for petting, and getting two good meals a day with no competition.

Salute to Hector

Click to enlarge the photo.

Underneath his big winter coat, there's not much cat there. Little skinny thing with the heart of a lion. Hector doesn't want to be our cat. He doesn't want to be anybody's damned cat, thank you very much.

He was a feral kitten, halfway gentled, when Lark's friend Mary and her sister Jane showed up at our house with him. I'm not sure of the details, but one day we were cat-free, the next day Hector moved in.

I'm trying to remember what year he joined us. We bought this house in 1998, so maybe '99? Hector allowed that he didn't much like our dogs, so we carved him out some alternate territory, a dog-free zone of guest bedroom, my office, laundry room. He made it clear, quite clear, he didn't think much of being cooped up, so we arranged a side window access to a dog-free yard. And he hung out pretty contently, although we noticed that he took up with the neighbors up the hill. Two-timing cat! Or three-timing.

Then we adopted Maggie. She was an older critter who was about to be put down, and we couldn't see that happen, so we moved her in. I guess they got along OK, but I think Hector was feeling crowded. And resentful of the dogs. Anthropomorphizing? Yeah, sure, but he tells us pretty clearly how he feels about stuff.

As time went by, we saw less and less of Hector. He got sick a few times, and we grabbed him and moved him back inside, cleaned him up, spoiled him rotten, fancy salmon cat food and necessary medication and ear scruggles. But eventually he always figured out a way to escape again, ranging into the hills behind our house, the king of his own personal jungle, with his nest in our garage.

In the fall we can usually catch him for a trip to the vet. He'll get very friendly for a few days as winter approaches, calling out to us and allowing us to approach and pet, and sometimes kidnap.

As the years go by, his territory is decreasing. And his other home, the neighbors in the woods up the hill, moved on, the new tenant had big loud dogs, and then the house was foreclosed. So Hector spends more time closer to home, although he is still two-timing us with the neighbors in front.

Now Hector mostly hangs out on "his" hillside in front of our house, in the tall grass, and supervises the neighborhood. We see him every day, sometimes blocking the driveway until we feed him, sometimes sitting on yet another neighbor's porch waiting for a handout.

Lark came home yesterday afternoon, and there was a little teenage skunk sitting in the spot where Hector waits for his dinner. Similar colors, similar attitude. Pretty funny. But we were relieved to see Hector back in that spot this morning, and then back on his hillside. And we snapped a quick photo so we can show Mary and Jane that's he's still healthy. Feisty? Grumpy? Check. But hanging in there.

Next fall, maybe we'll take another shot at moving him inside. Maybe someday he'll be content to retire to a quiet life as a lap cat in a nice warm bedrooom. You never know.

Stupid Bird Tapping At My Window

He's a weird little bird with a black hood. Might be a spotted towhee. Or more likely a dark eyed junco. Let me see if I can get a photo of this little guy.

OK, I got a quick shot of stupid bird. Here he is.

This bird is the original avian narcissist. He looks at my window, sees himself, and taps, taps, taps. Lark and I shoo him off. "Git, stupid bird, stop it! Don't hurt yourself!"

Then he flies over to the outdoor shower we put in for de-skunking the dogs, and preens in front of the shiny shower head. And taps, taps, taps. Then over the gate to the pickup, where he has a thing going on with the side mirror. Tap tap tap.

This same stupid bird has been around for a couple of years or longer, tapping and preening and tapping. It's a wonder he hasn't hurt himself, caused some birdie brain damage. Or maybe he has already banged his head one too many times. Maybe that's what this is all about.

A Disciplined Exercise

My friend Sean Brown, a few years back, resolved to write every day. Not neccessarily blogging, but writing. Good idea. I am going to try a similar exercise.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]