Ah, I thought I’d posted about this one when it went up, but apparently I didn’t. Green Pixels posted my Korg DS-10 review earlier this month; it’s a nifty little gadget that’s all about turning a portable game machine into a full-fledged musical instrument. Go have a look if the idea of near-limitless musical twiddling interests you.
New How-To: Access Your To-Do List From Anywhere
If you’re anything like me, your life revolves around a detailed to-do list. And if you’re anything like me, you’ve encountered a ridiculous amount of frustration in trying to find a full-featured to-do list you can access from anywhere. But I’ve suffered so you don’t have to: my Mac|Life how-to on accessing your to-do list from anywhere has gone live. Go, read, enjoy. And stop banging your head on your desk.
Pączki Day
So, it’s Pączki Day. In a tradition believed to have been started as a way of using up all the sugar, fruits, and dough before Lent starts tomorrow, Polish people everywhere are eating absurdly rich donuts filled with fruits, creams, and/or chocolates, called pączki (and pronounced, roughly, “PONCH-key”). This observation of excess is celebrated by Americans of Polish descent throughout the country, but especially in the Midwest, where we’re particularly numerous. I’m Polish. I like doughnuts. This is a holiday made for me.
There’s just one problem: Before a couple days ago, I’d only ever heard it mentioned once in my life. The person who talked about it came from the Detroit area, and I assumed this was something that was local to Michigan. But the other day, my wife, who grew up in Chicago, pointed out a sign on a donut shop advertising Pączki Day. “What’s that?” she asked.
“Oh, huh,” I replied with my customarily sage-like pith. “It’s a Michigan thing that must be making its way here.” And I didn’t think anything of it.
Until yesterday, when she brought a box home from the grocery store. We each had one for dessert. They were delicious. So I hopped onto Wikipedia* to try to track the origin and progress of Pączki Day. Continue reading “Pączki Day”
A Ziff-trospective, Part II: Mere Anarchy
When last we spoke, I promised to tell you some dirty little secrets about the Bad Old Days of EGM, OPM, and assorted magazines, in their original home in Lombard, Illinois. And I have no intention of shirking my duties.
But trying to hang these all together in some sort of coherent narrative would a.) take way too long, and b.) probably not make any sense anyway. There was a lot going on, as you’ll see, and if I were to try to hem everything up all pretty it would probably come off as some sort of fevered drug-dream. So instead, let’s peek in on some memorable moments, some iconic people, things, and events that represented that whole heady, smelly time.
Let’s start with the Cone of Violence. It’s as good a place to start as any. Now, enough has been said about this device that I’m not going to waste much time describing it except in the simplest terms: It was a full-size traffic cone, heavy as these things are, positioned appropriately next to the Blitz machine… Oh, I haven’t told you about the Blitz machine? Yeah, we had an NFL Blitz arcade machine in the office, positioned directly in front of the main door so that you couldn’t possibly miss it. “Oh, I was just heading down to the break room for a soda, but I guess I could squeeze in one game.” It’s a wonder we ever got any work done. Anyway, games of Blitz could get pretty heated, thanks largely to what has been variously called “CPU assist,” “rubberband AI,” and “bullshit.” See, what happened was, as soon as one player opened up a big lead, the game would start causing him to fumble the ball, throw interceptions, miss easy passes — pretty much do everything but trip over his own shoelaces. This made some people angry.
But it made Crispin Boyer positively livid. Continue reading “A Ziff-trospective, Part II: Mere Anarchy”
How to Kill the Videogame Industry
Host a multimillion-dollar event filled with “glamour, sizzle, and excitement” in the middle of the worst economy since the Great Depression, when half the people who would normally be covering it have been laid off.
Oh well. We had a pretty good run, didn’t we?