Sunday, June 30, 2013

Is It Possible To Disappear Completely?

Edward Snowden's journey around the world has taken him from Hawaii to Hong Kong, and now to Moscow.

The 30-year-old former NSA contractor, who leaked highly classified information about the U.S. government's surveillance programs, left Hong Kong on Sunday on a flight headed to Moscow.

On Tuesday, Russia's President Vladimir V. Putin confirmed that Snowden was in a transit area at Moscow's Sheremetyevo Airport and had not broken any Russian laws. Putin's press conference was held hours after Russia's foreign minister, Sergey Lavrov, said Snowden had not crossed the border into Russia.

Snowden reportedly booked a flight from Moscow to Havana on Monday. He didn't show up for the flight. Another Havana-bound flight took off from Moscow on Tuesday, without Snowden aboard.

Snowden's no ordinary traveler. But his globe-hopping around the world made us think: Would it be possible for someone without his connectionsâ€"in our increasingly connected ageâ€"to travel undetected?

Turns out, the answer is probably not.

"Snowden could do this because he had a lot of help," said Norie Quintos, executive editor of National Geographic Traveler. "I think for a typical traveler, it would be very hard to do."

It's a felony to use false identification, so you don't want to go that route. Instead, it's better if you just make it really, really hard for people to track you down, said Frank M. Ahearn, author of How to Disappear: Erase Your Digital Footprint, Leave False Trails, and Vanish without a Trace.

Ahearn spent over 20 years working as an investigator tracking down people who don't want to be found. He then realized he could make more money helping people who wanted to disappearâ€"actually leave without a trace.

But it's much harder said than done. So we asked Ahearn, who currently splits his time between New York and California, about the best ways to disappearâ€"Snowden-style or otherwise.

So I'm a 28-year-old writer living in Washington, D.C. I want to get out of hereâ€"maybe start something new. What's my best bet?

How much money do you got?

Let's say it's unlimited. (Writer's note: It's not.)

If you have unlimited money, then the world is your oyster. You probably want to head to Eastern Europe because of the language barrier. But it really depends on who is looking for you. You could cross into Mexico and once you cross, you're home free. There are small towns in Central and South America that are off the grid. It really depends on how crafty you are and what limits you have. It's a very different type of living that exists in those places.

I've heard of Mexico and South America, but why Eastern Europe?

It's much harder to find a person in Croatia or the Ukraine because their infrastructure is a whole lot different than ours. You don't need any kind of identification or numbers linking you to accounts like electricity, for example. And if the person looking for you has to start in the Ukraine, they just wouldn't know where to start.

What if I didn't have unlimited money?

Then you want to live more off the grid. You could go to Vegas, work off the books as a waitress, use prepaid cell phones. Being a woman, it would be easier to hook up with some guy and have everything in his name. It's not the most fun way of living, but it's doable. You could also probably couch surf and float city to city with no problem.

So if I stayed on the down-low and shifted from city to city, I'd be okay?

Well, most people get busted for something else. They contact someone from their past. When we're looking for someone, we're looking for the information they left behind: a call to a grandmother or a call to a sister. You kind of have to leave that world behind. The most important thing is making money to survive.

What about all of the social media I use? I'm on Twitter and Facebook, and I use that to stay in touch with basically everyone in my life. Would I have to leave those?

Deleting social media actually serves no purpose. But what you can do is create disinformation. People don't realize this, but they actually search for things that can be used to find them from their home computers. So what you want to do is, say, plan to go to Las Vegas. But in the meantime, Photoshop some pictures of you in Wisconsin. Call Wisconsin from your home phone for jobs. Post lots of things on Facebook about Wisconsin. This is all for the person that's looking for youâ€"you want to keep them busy and have them think you're in Wisconsin.

But I'm not in Wisconsin.

Yes, but there's no reason you can't create a series of fake online identities based in Wisconsin and friend them on Facebook. And then they can talk about having lunch with you in Wisconsin. You create this whole world of friends who are confirming your life in Wisconsin.

This kind of makes me want to move to Wisconsin. It seems like I would have a lot of friends there.

Yes, but they wouldn't be real.

What about a new identity? Why can't I just get some papers and become someone else entirely?

New identities don't work. Back in the day, you could get a birth certificate without any kind of problem because Social Security didn't cross-reference with the death record index. But [Social Security has] gotten much better.

So what you're telling me is the best way to disappear is really just to lie and fall off the grid, without trying to draw much attention to myself?

Well, sure, but really, it just depends on who's looking for you and how much money they have. If they want to find you, they probably can.

Read More

Saturday, June 29, 2013

Climbers Recount Murder On Famous Pakistan Peak

Late last Saturday night, gunmen dressed in paramilitary uniforms entered Base Camp at Nanga Parbat, Pakistan's second-highest peak, and murdered ten foreign mountaineers and a Pakistani cook. A spokesman for an Islamist militant group later claimed credit for the killings. It was the first time climbers had been targeted in that manner in Pakistan. The victims included three Ukrainians, three Chinese, two Slovaks, a Nepali, a Pakistani, and a Lithuanian named Ernest Marksaitis.

(Related: "Pakistan Attack Casts Light on Troubled Climbing Zones")

Sher Khan, a Pakistani climber, returned to Base Camp at Nanga Parbat at about two o'clock on Saturday afternoon, June 22. He'd been suffering from the effects of high altitude at Camp 1 and wanted to rest. Besides the other mountaineers at Base Camp, many of whom were also sick, there were about a dozen members of the staff, mostly local people. After a cup of light soup, he climbed into his sleeping bag, still not feeling well.

In this interview, he tells National Geographic what happened on the mountain that night.

What was the first sign of trouble?

I woke up suddenly around 9:30 [in the evening]. I heard noises around my tent. What's going on, I thought. Is somebody fighting or what? I opened my tent flap a little and saw a person carrying a Russian Kalashnikov about 20 meters away. He was wearing a local camouflage uniform.

Then right in front of my tent I saw someone with a terrorist. His name was Ernest, a climber from Lithuania. And he was saying, "I am not American. I am not American."

From another direction I heard, "Go out. Go out. Go, go." They were trying to pull the Chinese out from their tents. "Taliban! Al-Qaeda! Surrender!" They were trying to tell the foreigners to surrender.

Then I saw two people coming toward my tent with a huge Kalashnikov and some knives in their hands. I was trying to hide. The muzzle of the gun came inside my tent and one person said, "Go! Go!" I said, "Look, I'm Pakistani. I'm from Hunza. I am Ismaili. Please."

I tried to recall the Kalima prayer. They said, "Come out!" They were speaking Urdu [spoken in Pakistan] mostly. Then sometimes Pashto [spoken in Afghanistan]. A few words in Shina, the local language. I tried to get out of the tent and they suddenly said, stop! "Do you have money?" I said, yes, I have a little. They said, okay get out the money. So I tried to get back into the tent to get the money, but they kicked my head with their boots and pulled me out of the tent.

They said, 'We don't need you to collect the money. Just go.' They pointed this gun to my head and took me to this line of other people and tied me with a rope. What I saw then was eight or nine people tied with a rope.There some Pakistani people also. Some Ukrainian people. This poor Ernest was also tied. And one Nepali was also tied. And of course, it was my time turn for them to tie me. They put me next to a Ukrainian guy on the far right side.

They took a little time to bring out more people. They went to each and every tent. "Taliban, Al-Qaeda. Surrender." They were looking for foreign tourists. They pointed a gun at me and a camp cook and said, "We know you can speak English. Ask them who has money in their tents." They threatened the climbers. "If we find money in your tent that you are hiding, we are going to shoot you." Everybody was scared. We all said, yes, we have money. The foreigners said, yes, we have Euros. Yes, we have dollars. And one by one they took climbers to their different tents and collected the money.

Then they asked for satellite phones. "Who has Thuraya phones?" The climbers said "yes, we have Thuraya phones, we have walkie-talkies." Again they took them to the tents and collected the Thuraya phones. But this time they destroyed all the phones and walkie talkies. Some they shot with Kalashnikovs. Some they destroyed with stones. Whatever electronics they found, like laptops, solar panels, they destroyed them with stones and with their feet.

All this time I was begging them, please, we are Muslim, Ismaili from Hunza. We are Pakistanis. Why are you doing this?

Then suddenly one person came to me and said, okay, if you are a Muslim, tell me this, this, and this about morning prayer. But we Ismaili say a different prayer. So I was helpless and kept quiet. Then another person said to the first one, "Don't you know that these Ismaili people from Hunza don't offer the same prayer?" So this ugly man went away from my face.

Then somebody said, "Okay, let's separate these three people from Hunza from the rope." So they released us, but told us, "Don't try to look up. Stay on your knees."

Then one person told the rest of the row, the Ukrainian people, the poor Nepali and the Pakistani guy, Chinese people, to turn their faces in the other direction. So that they could shoot them, you know. But I was thinking, maybe they are not going to shoot them. Maybe they are robbers. They've got the money and everything. Maybe they are going to just go away.

But unfortunately, when they started to move them in opposite directions, I was just stunned. I couldn't see what was going on. I was on my knees, bent down, holding my body.

Then suddenly I heard the sound of shooting. I looked a little up and what I saw was this poor Ukrainian guy, who had been tied with me, I saw him sitting down. Then after that moment, the shooting started in bursts. Three times. Brrrr. Brrrr. Brrrr. Three times like that. Then the leader, this stupid ugly man, said, "Now stop firing. Don't fire anybody." Then that son of a bitch came in between the dead bodies and he personally shot them one by one. Dun. Dun. Dun. Every body he shot down. And then afterward we heard slogans, like Allahu Akbar. Salam Zindabad. Osama bin Laden Zindabad. And one stupid person said, "Today these people are revenge for Osama bin Laden."

Then they were about fifty feet away and gathered for a while. Then they dispersed from that point downward.

Suddenly it was totally quiet. It was a very silent moment. We waited for a little while more, and we rushed to the kitchen where our cook found a knife and our hands were finally freed. I tried to find a radio in my tent. I found two walkie talkies and tried to contact my team mates at Camp 2. I said, please, Camp 2, this is an emergency, can you hear me? But everybody must have been sleeping. I went to each and every tent looking for a Thuraya.

Then my Hunza friends said, look, if they come again, they're going to kill us. We need to go somewhere safe. So we tried to go toward Camp 1, but we didn't have the right clothes or shoes because they had pulled us from our sleeping bags. But we were really in terror. So the three of us climbed about 300 meters up the mountain to where we could look down on Base Camp. It was about one o'clock and we found a kind of cave. We tried to hug each other to get a little heat. We stayed there all night. We kept trying to contact Camp 2, but I heard nothing until 7:30 in the morning. I kept my radio on. Suddenly I heard one of my friends, Karim. I told him what had happened, that people had died. I was crying.

Karim contacted Nazir Sabir, a famous climber, who said that the Army was already on the move. They were on the way with helicopters. So don't move until they land at Base Camp, he said.

After the gunmen left Base Camp, did anyone check to see if the climbers were all dead?

At that moment, it was very hard to stay in that place. To get closer to the bodies. It was a really hard moment. But some people, including myself, heard a strange noise from the body of one person. As if he was still alive. Others were completely quiet. One person, he was doing something like snoring. We heard that sound for a little while before we left that camp. But when I asked some local people, staff, who were tied in a tent nearby, they said, you know, we were hearing that snoring sound until maybe two o'clock in the morning. It could be that he was alive. I don't know.

It sounds just horrible.

You know, to this day, I can't sleep. It was a week ago. Afterward the Army took me and some of my friends for interrogation. They asked a lot of questions. What kind of people were they? What kind of accent did they have? I answered a lot of questions. Now I can't sleep. But if I do, I wake up suddenly with any noises. It's also difficult for me to go into a room. Because I feel like it's a tent and somebody is going to come get me at gunpoint. It's very difficult.

Aleksandra Dzik, a young climber from Poland, was also on the mountain that night. But she, like 30 or so other mountaineers, was higher on the peak at Camp 2 when the killings occurred. As leader of the International Nanga Parbat Expedition 2013, Dzik was helping her team of 20 prepare for an ascent of the peak when she heard the news. Ernest was a member of her team.

In this interview, she tells National Geographic what she saw and heard on the mountain.

How did you learn of the attack?

It was about 6 in the morning and we heard about it from Karim Hayat, a Pakistani climber who had a tent near us at Camp 2. He'd gotten a call from his climbing partner, Sher Khan, who was at Base Camp. Khan said the Taliban had tied him up and carried him out of his tent and stood him up right next to the people who were shot. But in the end they didn't shoot him. He was in shock. When he managed to untie his hands, he called Karim and warned him not to come down from Camp 2.

Of course, when we heard what had happened, we tried to get in touch with Ernest, the only member of our team who was still at Base Camp. Ernest had decided to rest for a few days, because he was sick. He had stomach problems. But he didn't reply. We were hoping maybe he had lost his radio and escaped. Unfortunately, it wasn't true. Other expeditions were also calling their members at Base Camp, but only getting silence.

We decided to go back down to Base Camp. By the time we arrived, the Army was already there and the bodies had been taken away.

It must have been a shock.

We couldn't believe it. We are climbers. Every one of us has lost friends in the mountains. But it was always by the power of nature. It's a game we all play. We accept the risk.

But here the deaths at Base Camp were caused by people. It was just terrible.

Someone said to us, I will show you the place where they were all put together, taken from their tents, and shot dead. There was blood on the grass. It was the most terrible moment. There was also white down, because they had been wearing down suits. And there were shells from the gun.

Before the attack, a Slovakian climber at Camp 2 had also been having stomach problems. So his climbing partner, another Slovakian, and his team leader, a Ukrainian, decided to take him back down to Base Camp. They thought that would be the safest place for a sick person, but in fact they all went to the one place that was the most dangerous, and they were killed there.

That night we were quite afraid. We put several tents together with three or four people in each small tent to be close together.

The next day we were evacuated by Army helicopters to an army base. Then an Army aircraft took us to Islamabad, where our agencies and embassies got us a hotel.

Do you feel safe now in Pakistan?

You know, what can we do? We are quite scared. More anxious than before. When we go out in the city, we are more careful how we dress, how we look.

Before when we came to Pakistan, we got used to the terrorism in this country, where people unfortunately are killed every day. But we always felt that it didn't concern us, that it was the problem of the Pakistanis and we were guests in their country. We believed that we were untouchable.

Now we do not feel safe on the streets, but we try to behave normally any way. Because it's the only thing we can do against terrorism. To live normally. Not to give terrorists what they wantâ€"to make us hide.

Read More

Friday, June 28, 2013

The Secret Language Behind Cattle Brands

When 19th century Texas land baron Samuel Maverick flouted tradition by refusing to brand his cattle, he could not have known his name would come to represent everything from brassy independence to Tom Cruise to Alaskan politicking. But his indifference toward the status quo soon gave unbranded cattle the ranching land over the nickname “mavericks,” and wranglers have been happily roping lawless bovines ever since.

Most things have changed in the last 200 years, but cattle branding isn’t one of them. The practice dates back to the beginning of livestock tending, and Ancient Egyptian brands like this lion-headed bronze iron burned hieroglyphics into cowhide in just the same way as ranchers do today (although with significantly more deference to the gods). The Spanish brought cattle ranching to Mexico, where a central brand registry was established in Mexico City as early as 1537. Cattle branding followed the Spanish into Texas and it grew alongside open range grazing in the mid-1800s to become the de facto means of identifying a cow from Bismark to Baja.

If done right, branding creates an indelible mark that allows ranchers to keep track of their stock, wayward cattle to be returned to their owners, and stolen cattle to be readily identified, an especially important trick in a time when theft or “cattle rustling” was a crime often met with death. Law-abiding ranch hands kept hand-written and carefully illustrated “brand books” on hand to identify and sort their cattle, and brands today are required to be registered with state or county agencies where a “brand inspector” keeps confusion in check.

What on the surface seems a straightforward practice of laconic, no-nonsense plainsmen, cattle branding is in fact a playground of design and cowboy semiotics. Symbols, visual puns and jaunty combinations of letters, numbers and styles make up a tradition of brand design that’s held steady through decades, giving rise to such notorious brands as the “XIT”, the “Running W” and the “7 Up”.

What’s in a brand? First and foremost, the language of cattle brands is constrained by the not insignificant fact that a brand’s design will be burned into the hide of a living animal. Complex and flowery designs are impractical, easy to flub and, most importantly, more painful for the animal being branded. “The simpler the better,” emphasizes Ken Miller of Long View Ranch in Mandan, North Dakota. “A lot of people want to build a complicated brand like something inside of something else, like a diamond or circle or heart. They work, but they’re harder on the animal.”

Miller brands over 200 of his own cattle yearly, but he channels his creative side by running a brand design business where he consults for outside clients.  Their most frequent mistake? “People get carried away and they do stupid things.” Miller says he’s seen overblown designs like a cattle skull with three letters, plus eyes, ears and horns. “Just because you want it doesn’t mean it’s a good thing to put on an animal.”

Branding designs may have their limitations, but creativity and unique visual conventions thrive within the constraints. The letters, numbers and symbols in brand designs create countless distinct permutations, especially with various styles that can render a single letter into several distinct designs.

Take, for example, the letter “A”. Mark it at an angle and it’s a “leaning” or “tumbling A”. Topple it on its side and it becomes a “lazy A”. Turn it upside down and it’s a “crazy A”. Give it wings, feet or a semicircular rocker and make it “flying”, “walking” or “rocking”. Rendering the letter in curvy script makes it “running.” And that’s before adding numbers and symbols to make a brand even more distinct.

different-type-of-As

The vocabulary of cattle brands includes everyday objects that jocular cowboys adopted for their signature. Keys, hats, snakes, rocking chairs, guns, fish, panhandles, arrows, pitchforks and boots add flair to the common bars, circles, diamonds and crosses. Brands are read left to right, top to bottom and outside in, depending on the design, and the vernacular allows for puns and jokes within the design (take, for example, the Bar BQ, Open A Bar or 2 Lazy 2 P brands).

brand-basics-correct-size

In the rough days of ranching, brands represented a singular opportunity for sentimentality. A brand became a symbol of pride for a family or ranch and passed down through generations of cattle owners. “They’re very proud of their brand,” says Miller. “That’s their logo. It’s personal. They want to stamp it on everything.”

But while cattle owners deployed their brands, cattle rustlers on the make were just as ingenious in coming up with ways to alter or falsify existing brands. Rustlers made use of “running irons” with hooked tips to forge or change brands, branding freehand under cover of night. Being caught by an angry cattleman with a running iron in your possession meant instant death for many rustlers, but the temptation was hard to resist. Adding a few lines or curves to a brand could quickly turn someone else’s cattle into your own, and inspired rustlers were skilled in the sleight of hand that could transform a “Bar S” into a “48” or a “Flying U” into a “7 Up”.

brand-makeover-correct

Although the practice of branding has waned somewhat since the decline of open-range grazing, a recent resurgence in old-school cattle rustling has ranchers revisiting their hot irons (or, as the case may be, freeze irons, a newer and less extreme technique that freezes instead of burns). Livestock prices are up and the struggling economy has spurred increased thefts of cattle, which can garner over $1,000 a head.

As a result, cattle owners who may never have branded before are designing new brands or reregistering old brands that have fallen out of use. Local law enforcement is encouraging the uptick in branding awareness.

“We have yet to find a system that can replace a hot brand on a cow,” Carl Bennett, director of the Louisiana Livestock Brand Commission, recently told USA Today. “There’s nothing in modern society that’s more sure.”

Read More

Thursday, June 27, 2013

The New Drug Of Choice For Elites

At a party not long ago in Park Slope, Brooklyn, Kaitlin, a 22-year-old senior at Columbia University, was recalling the first time she was offered a drug called Molly, at the elegant Brooklyn home of a cultural figure she admired. “She was, like, 50, and she had been written about in the Talk of the Town,” said Kaitlin, who was wearing black skinny jeans and a tank top. “This woman was very smart and impressive.”

At one point, the hostess pulled Kaitlin aside and asked if she had ever tried the drug, which is said to be pure MDMA, the ingredient typically combined with other substances in Ecstasy pills. “She said that it wasn’t cut with anything and that I had nothing to worry about,” said Kaitlin, who declined to give her last name because she is applying for jobs and does not want her association with the drug to scare off potential employers. “And then everyone at the party took it.”

Since that first experience, Kaitlin has encountered Molly at a birthday celebration and at a dance party in Williamsburg. “It’s the only drug I can think of that I have to pay for,” she said. “It makes you really happy. It’s very loose. You just get very turned on â€" not even sexually, but you just feel really upbeat and want to dance or whatever.”

Molly is not new, exactly. MDMA, or 3,4-methylenedioxy-N-methylamphetamine, was patented by Merck pharmaceuticals in 1914 and did not make much news until the 1970s, when psychotherapists began giving it to patients to get them to open up. It arrived at New York nightclubs in the late 1980s, and by the early ’90s it became the preferred drug at raves at Limelight and Shelter, where a weekly party called NASA later served as a backdrop in Larry Clark’s movie “Kids.”

Known for inducing feelings of euphoria, closeness and diminished anxiety, Ecstasy was quickly embraced by Wall Street traders and Chelsea gallerinas. But as demand increased, so did the adulterants in each pill (caffeine, speed, ephedrine, ketamine, LSD, talcum powder and aspirin, to name a few), and by the new millennium, the drug’s reputation had soured.

Then, sometime in the last decade, it returned to clubs as Molly, a powder or crystalline form of MDMA that implied greater purity and safety: Ecstasy re-branded as a gentler, more approachable drug. And thanks in part to that new friendly moniker, MDMA has found a new following in a generation of conscientious professionals who have never been to a rave and who are known for making careful choices in regard to their food, coffee and clothing. Much as marijuana enthusiasts of an earlier generation sang the virtues of Mary Jane, they argue that Molly (the name is thought to derive from “molecule”) feels natural and basically harmless.

A 26-year-old New York woman named Elliot, who works in film, took Molly a few months ago at a friend’s apartment and headed to dinner at Souen, the popular “macrobiotic, natural organic” restaurant in the East Village, and then went dancing. “I’ve always been somewhat terrified of drugs,” she said. “But I’d been curious about Molly, which is sold as this pure, fun-loving drug. This is probably completely naïve, but I felt I wasn’t putting as many scary chemicals into my body.”

Robert Glatter, an emergency-room physician at Lenox Hill Hospital on the Upper East Side, might disagree. Dr. Glatter used to go months without hearing about Molly; now, he sees about four patients a month exhibiting its common side effects, which include teeth grinding, dehydration, anxiety, insomnia, fever and loss of appetite. (More dangerous ones include hyperthermia, uncontrollable seizures, high blood pressure and depression caused by a sudden drop in serotonin levels in the days after use, nicknamed Suicide Tuesdays.)

“Typically in the past we’d see rave kids, but now we’re seeing more people into their 30s and 40s experimenting with it,” Dr. Glatter said. “MDMA use has increased dramatically. It’s really a global phenomenon now.”

Nationally, the Drug Abuse Warning Network reports that the number of MDMA-related emergency-room visits have doubled since 2004. It is possible to overdose on MDMA, though when taken by itself, the drug rarely leads to death, Dr. Glatter said. (Official mortality figures are not available, but a study by New York City’s deputy chief medical examiner determined that from 1997 to 2000, two people died solely because of MDMA.)

According to the United States Customs and Border Protection, there were 2,670 confiscations of MDMA in 2012, up from 186 in 2008.

Read More

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Why Do Americans Have The Worst DVRs?

Woman watching TV.

American DVRs are inferior to European ones for one very important reason.

Photo by Thinkstock

It took a few minutes shy of forever to get to the end of Game 1 of hockey’s Stanley Cup Final, but at least for non-Bostonians, it was worth the wait. Four hours and 38 minutes after the game began, Andrew Shaw finally scored the winning goal to push the Chicago Blackhawks past the Boston Bruins in the third overtime. The game’s not-so-sudden death didn’t come quite quickly enough for one unlucky hockey watcher. As that anonymous fan explained on Reddit, adding an extra two hours to the end of his DVR recording seemed like a smart move. But in the end, those buffer hours left him just six seconds shy of seeing the winning goal. Ain’t that a puck in the teeth.

I can relate. In the interest of sleep and sanity, I time-shifted the early rounds of the NBA playoffs, catching up on the previous night’s games each morning. Alas, my recording of Game 1 of the NBA’s Western Conference semis, in which the Spurs beat the Warriors 129â€"127 in double overtime, ended just before the final shot went in the air. (I think the Warriors could still pull this one out!) As a savvy DVR user, I of course padded my recording by an extra hour, just in case the game extended beyond its scheduled end time. But an hour, or even two, sometimes isn’t enough. That’s the peril of taping live sporting events. A long fifth set, a bee delay, or yet another period without the puck going in the netâ€"all can lead to a game overspilling its programming window by hours. Worst of all, the sporting events most likely to be ruined in this manner are precisely the ones we most want to watch to the end: those extra-long, extra-tense games that go into overtime or extra innings.

It’s easy to imagine a universe in which DVRs worked better. Rather than forcing TV watchers to pad their recordings manually, broadcasters could send a signal to cable and satellite providers when a program begins and another when it ends. Your DVR would grab these signals, ensuring that it starts each recording when it should start and ends it when should endâ€"not at some (often-wrong) scheduled time, but at the real time. This wouldn’t just solve ball, stick, and puck problems. It would also benefit everyone who’s suffered the pain of missing the last joke on 30 Rock because the show runs just a little bit beyond its allotted time.

Advertisement

Here’s the good news: This hypothetical DVR utopia actually exists, and a lot of people are living in it. The bad news for me and my fellow Americans: The United States is trapped in the bowels of DVR hell, and we’re not going to escape any time soon.

Now, let us take a journey to this magical land where DVRs work as they should. Our tour guide is Raj Patel, the chief solutions architect for the United Kingdom’s Freesat, a partnership between ITV and the BBC that provides free satellite TV service to 1.7 million homes. Patel explains that broadcasters supply Freesat and certain other international television providers with what’s called “present and following” informationâ€"that is, the identity of the program that’s airing right now and the one that’s scheduled to air next. Even if a program (like, say, a sporting event) is supposed to end at 10:30 p.m., the broadcaster will not change that present and following data until the game is actually over. A customer’s DVR, in turn, will not stop recording until it’s been signaled that the present and following information has changed. This feature is called “accurate recording,” and that’s exactly what it is. It means you’ll never miss the end of a gameâ€"not even a Champions League final that goes into extra time.

This isn’t a special feature reserved exclusively for couch potatoes with British accents. NorDig, the body that specifies digital TV standards in Scandinavia and Ireland, also mandates that DVRs come equipped with accurate recording technology. This feature is also available in Australia, where the TV provider Freeview calls it “intuitive recording” and brags that “you will never miss the end of a recorded show again” thanks to a system in which each show gets a unique reference code.

Why do Brits and Aussies get to watch impeccable recordings of “football” while red-blooded, American football gets cut off by our inferior American DVRs? It’s not because the technology somehow doesn’t work on our side of the pond. Based on interviews with multiple people at various industry stakeholders, I believe that accurate/intuitive/non-terrible recording would be feasible in the United States. The reason it doesn’t exist, I believe, is that American broadcasters and service providers don’t want it to exist. But we need to make our voices heard. The time is now to save our country from substandard DVR technology.

Broadcast standards aren’t uniform across the world. Europe, Australia, India, parts of Africa, and a bunch of other places comply with the DVB standard, while North America goes by something called ATSC. But Dave Arland, a spokesman for ATSC, says there’s nothing about the North American broadcast standard that would prevent any company here from implementing accurate recording.

Similarly, a source at a major U.S. television service providerâ€"who refused to go on the record, perhaps fearing an onslaught of marauding customersâ€"told me the company’s DVRs are capable of accurate recording. The issue, the source said, is that the broadcasters would need to provide them with real-time data on the start and end times of live events. That’s already happening in the United Kingdom and other places with accurate recording, but not in North America.

Read More

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Why The City Of Miami Is Doomed To Drown

Miami after Hurricane Wilma in 2005.

Roberto Schmidt/AFP/Getty Images

When the water receded after Hurricane Milo of 2030, there was a foot of sand covering the famous bow-tie floor in the lobby of the Fontaine­bleau hotel in Miami Beach. A dead manatee floated in the pool where Elvis had once swum. Most of the damage occurred not from the hurricane's 175-mph winds, but from the 24-foot storm surge that overwhelmed the low-lying city. In South Beach, the old art-deco­ buildings were swept off their foundations. Mansions on Star Island were flooded up to their cut-glass doorknobs. A 17-mile stretch of Highway A1A that ran along the famous beaches up to Fort Lauderdale disappeared into the Atlantic. The storm knocked out the wastewater-treatment plant on Virginia Key, forcing the city to dump hundreds of millions of gallons of raw sewage into Biscayne Bay. Tampons and condoms littered the beaches, and the stench of human excrement stoked fears of cholera. More than 800 people died, many of them swept away by the surging waters that submerged much of Miami Beach and Fort Lauderdale; 13 people were killed in traffic accidents as they scrambled to escape the city after the news spread â€" falsely, it turned out â€" that one of the nuclear reactors at Turkey Point, an aging power plant 24 miles south of Miami, had been destroyed by the surge and sent a radioactive cloud over the city.

Rising Seas: A City-by-City Forecast

The president, of course, said Miami would be back, that the hurricane did not kill the city, and that Americans did not give up. But it was clear to those not fooling themselves that this storm was the beginning of the end. With sea levels more than a foot higher than they'd been at the dawn of the century, South Florida was wet, vulnerable and bankrupt. Attempts had been made to armor the coastline, to build sea walls and elevate buildings, but it was a futile undertaking. The coastline from Miami Beach up to Jupiter had been a little more than a series of rugged limestone crags since the mid-2020s, when the state, unable to lay out $100 million every few years to pump in fresh sand, had given up trying to save South Florida's world-famous­ beaches. In that past decade, tourist visits had plummeted by 40 percent, even after the Florida legislature agreed to allow casino gambling in a desperate attempt to raise revenue for storm protection. The city of Homestead, in southern Miami-Dade County, which had been flattened by Hurricane Andrew in 1992, had to be completely abandoned. Thousands of tract homes were bulldozed because they were a public health hazard. In the parts of the county that were still inhabitable, only the wealthiest could afford to insure their homes. Mortgages were nearly impossible to get, mostly because banks didn't believe the homes would be there in 30 years. At high tide, many roads were impassable, even for the most modern semiaquatic vehicles.

Global Warming's Terrifying New Math

But Hurricane Milo was unexpectedly devastating. Because sea-level­ rise had already pushed the water table so high, it took weeks for the storm waters to recede. Salt water corroded underground wiring, leaving parts of the city dark for months. Drinking-water­ wells were ruined. Interstate 95 was clogged with cars and trucks stuffed with animals and personal belongings, as hundreds of thousands of people fled north to Orlando, the highest ground in central Florida. Developers drew up plans for new buildings on stilts, but few were built. A new flexible carbon-fiber­ bridge was proposed to link Miami Beach with the mainland, but the bankrupt city couldn't secure financing and the project fell apart. The skyscrapers that had gone up during the Obama years were gradually abandoned and used as staging grounds for drug runners and exotic-animal traffickers. A crocodile nested in the ruins of the Pérez Art Museum.

And still, the waters kept rising, nearly a foot each decade. By the latter end of the 21st century, Miami became something else entirely: a popular snorkeling spot where people could swim with sharks and sea turtles and explore the wreckage of a great American city.

Even more than Silicon Valley, Miami embodies the central technological myth of our time â€" that nature can not only be tamed but made irrelevant. Miami was a mosquito-and-crocodile-filled swampland for thousands of years, virtually uninhabited until the late 1800s. Then developers arrived, canals were dug, swamps were drained, and a city emerged that was unlike any other place on the planet, an edge-of-the-world, air-conditioned dreamland of sunshine and beaches and drugs and money; Jan Nijman, the former director of the Urban Studies Program at the University of Miami, called 20th-century Miami "a citadel of fantastical consumption." Floods would come and go and hurricanes might blow through, but the city would survive, if only because no one could imagine a force more powerful than human ingenuity. That defiance of nature â€" the sense that the rules don't apply here â€" gave the city its great energy. But it is also what will cause its demise.

You would never know it from looking at Miami today. Rivers of money are flowing in from Latin America, Europe and beyond, new upscale shopping malls are opening, and the skyline is crowded with construction cranes. But the unavoidable truth is that sea levels are rising and Miami is on its way to becoming an American Atlantis. It may be another century before the city is completely underwater (though some more-pessimistic­ scientists predict it could be much sooner), but life in the vibrant metropolis of 5.5 million people will begin to dissolve much quicker, most likely within a few decades. The rising waters will destroy Miami slowly, by seeping into wiring, roads, building foundations and drinking-water supplies â€" and quickly, by increasing the destructive power of hurricanes. "Miami, as we know it today, is doomed," says Harold Wanless, the chairman of the department of geological sciences at the University of Miami. "It's not a question of if. It's a question of when."

The 10 Dumbest Things Ever Said About Global Warming

Sea-level rise is not a hypothetical disaster. It is a physical fact of life on a warming planet, the basic dynamics of which even a child can understand: Heat melts ice. Since the 1920s, the global average sea level has risen about nine inches, mostly from the thermal expansion of the ocean water. But thanks to our 200-year-long fossil-fuel binge, the great ice sheets in Greenland and Antarctica are starting to melt rapidly now, causing the rate of sea-level rise to grow exponentially. The latest research, including an assessment by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, suggests that sea level could rise more than six feet by the end of the century. James Hansen, the godfather of global-warming science, has argued that it could increase as high as 16 feet by then â€" and Wanless believes that it could continue rising a foot each decade after that. "With six feet of sea-level rise, South Florida is toast," says Tom Gustafson, a former Florida speaker of the House and a climate-change-policy advocate. Even if we cut carbon pollution overnight, it won't save us. Ohio State glaciologist Jason Box has said he believes we already have 70 feet of sea-level rise baked into the system.

Of course, South Florida is not the only place that will be devastated by sea-level rise. London, Boston, New York and Shanghai are all vulnerable, as are low-lying underdeveloped nations like Bangladesh. But South Florida is uniquely screwed, in part because about 75 percent of the 5.5 million people in South Florida live along the coast. And unlike many cities, where the wealth congregates in the hills, southern Florida's most valuable real estate is right on the water. The Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development lists Miami as the number-one most vulnerable city worldwide in terms of property damage, with more than $416 billion in assets at risk to storm-related flooding and sea-level rise.

To read the new issue of Rolling Stone online, plus the entire RS archive: Click Here

Read More

Monday, June 24, 2013

Questlove: Michele Bachmann Almost Got Me Fired From Jimmy Fallon Show

One of the best things about the Jimmy Fallon show â€" maybe the best thing â€" is that it’s a test of ingenuity every single day. It sent me back to the days of working with Dave Chappelle. But that show was brilliant guerrilla comedy; it happened on the fly and then some. The Fallon show is a day job in the best sense. We’re in by noon and gone by seven, and in between we make a show. It’s highly structured, and as a result, the opportunities we have for creativity are really distilled: not reduced at all, but disciplined, forced into existing forms and packages. “Freestylin’ with the Roots” is one of the highlights for us. One of the others is the walkover.

The walkover, or walk-on, for those who don’t speak backstage, is the song that the band plays as a guest comes out from behind the curtain and walks over to the host’s desk. Once upon a time, maybe, it was straightforward, a little musical cue or song associated with the artist. But then came Paul Shaffer’s work on “Letterman,” and the walkover became its own little art form â€" an obscure musical reference that the audience (and sometimes even the guest) had to decode.

From the beginning, I wanted the Fallon walk-ons to be classics of the genre, the talk-show equivalent of video game Easter eggs. When we had Salma Hayek on the show, rather than play “Mexican Radio” or even “Salmon Falls,” we did some Internet research and unearthed the theme song from the first Mexican soap opera she ever starred on, “Theresa.” She knew it faintly at first, or at least knew it was something she should know, and her eyes went wide when she figured out what it was. When Edward Norton was on, promoting “The Bourne Legacy,” we played Patrick Hernandez’s 1979 disco hit “Born to be Alive.” And we thought we had a great left-field pick when we played the Dave Matthews Band’s “The Space Between” for football player Michael Strahan, but somehow he knew it immediately. Howard Stern once came up to me during a bathroom break, confused, to ask me why we played this disco song by Bell and James for his wife, Beth Ostrovsky. “She’s from Pittsburgh, right?” I asked. He nodded. I explained that everyone from Pittsburgh gets that treatment â€" it’s a band in-joke that refers back to the late-’70s basketball comedy “The Fish That Saved Pittsburgh.” I’m not sure he was satisfied by the answer. The Fallon walkovers, as trivial as they may seem, have been the culmination of everything I’ve cared about my whole life: making strange musical connections, reveling in the way that something obscure can illuminate something obvious.

Because the songs we select are a kind of code, some of the guys in the band use them to slyly flirt with female guests. I let Kirk talk me into playing The Lonely Island’s “Lazy Sunday” for Christina Ricci because he had heard she has a “Chronicle of Narnia” tattoo on her back. I did it but got no reaction at all. I put him on six-month probation for that suggestion; he was forbidden to send any more secret messages to anyone. And I can remember one case where I totally fumbled the ball. We had a famous actress on â€" I won’t say who, to protect both myself and her â€" and I thought she had been in a particular movie, and I built the walk-on around that title. After the show, her publicist came up to me. “Hey,” she said, “what was the walkover song? I’m not sure I understood the reference.” I had confused her with someone else. I was so embarrassed.

But even in the walk-on world, there are limits. Chuck Berry may be the inventor of rock and roll, but he still thinks he needs a pay-out of $2.5 million anytime anyone plays “Johnny B. Goode” on TV. That seemed to scotch our plan to play it when Michael J. Fox came on the show; we wanted to recreate the prom scene from “Back to the Future” â€" you know, where Marty McFly plays the “Johnny B. Goode” solo and one of the guys in the band, Marvin Berry , calls his cousin Chuck? Rather than give up, though, we found a workaround. We played “The Clock,” by my father, which is basically a B-flat blues ripoff of the Berry Classic, and that gave us the solo we needed. I played the role of Marvin Berry in the skit.

Most of the time, the walk-on is harmless and fun, a way to flex our musical and pop-culture muscles. But there are times when it gives us a chance to practice a bit of commentary. When Ashlee Simpson was on, we played a Milli Vanilli song to tweak her a little bit for her lip-synching scandal on “Saturday Night Live.” (Viewers with sharp ears may have noticed that we didn’t even do the original song, but the version from VH1′s “Behind the Music,” where Fab and Rob were stuck singing the title phrase because of a computer glitch.)

And then, in late 2011 â€" November 21, to be exact, at the height of the Republican primary season â€" we found out that Michele Bachmann, representative from Minnesota, was coming on the show. Bachmann had been offending people left and right with her comments about gay rights and Muslims in America, and she also seemed to have a casual relationship with the truth. I learned that at one point fact-checkers had set a time limit for themselves on how many of her evasions and misrepresentations they were going to catch. That was my starting point, and I set out on a mission to find the best song about politics and evasion and untruth. I considered “Lies,” either the En Vogue one or the McFly one, but we don’t generally sing any lyrics, so I ended up picking Fishbone’s “Lyin’ Ass Bitch,” a ska number from their 1985 debut. It had a good little melody and lots of energy. It seemed funny to me. I figured it would be another exhibit in Ahmir’s Hall of Snark, and not much more than that.

So that’s what happened. Michele Bachmann came out on to the show and spoke to Jimmy. She didn’t know what song we were playing. I’m sure almost no one knew what song we were playing. That was part of the fun of it. I felt smug to the point of smugness. We had pulled one over on the Man.

Then, the next day, satisfaction and smugness turned to ego. I was sitting around at home thinking that I had done something historical, something political. I had struck a blow for truth. I wanted credit. When you want credit for something and you don’t want to operate via traditional channels, where do you go? In this day and age, you go to Twitter. That’s where I went. Someone tweeted me a question: “Was that ‘Lyin’ Ass Bitch’?” I answered like someone in the grip of ego, which is exactly what it was: “Sho’ nuf.” That was it. The fuse was lit. The news began to spread. Then a conservative blogger got hold of it and it spread some more. I went to sleep, and woke to a reverse tooth fairy situation. Instead of finding money under my pillow, I found my phone flashing with six missed calls, all from my manager Rich. I had a sense, maybe, what it was about, so I looked on Twitter and saw that I had more than seven hundred mentions. Then I called Rich back.

“You know this is a problem,” he said.

“How much of a problem?”

“Looks like this could be a big problem.”

“How big?”

Rich paused. I didn’t like the pause or what was in it. “I don’t know,” he said. “This could be a wrap for you. This could be a wrap for us.” My heart sank. Had I taken the band down with me?

By the time I got to work, the fire of outrage was blazing. Fans online were cursing Jimmy. People were calling the NBC switchboard. The conservative blogger Michelle Malkin re-tweeted something that included my name in it, and all of a sudden I had three thousand more responses. I had benefited from things going viral, but now I was suffering from the same thing. At one point I passed Jimmy in the hallway and tried to play it off as a joke, and he nodded, trying to keep a good face on it, but I could see how exhausted he was.

By two o’clock, it wasn’t just a conservative firestorm, but a feminist one. Women were posting letters of support for Michele Bachmann, lining up against me for saying “bitch.” Even Sara Gilbert, on “The Talk,” came out to say that even though she found Bachmann’s politics reprehensible, she was left with no choice but to be an ally in this particular case. That’s when things shifted into a whole new dimension of horrible. I had picked the song so that I didn’t have to sing it, but the fact it could be seen as misogynistic just escaped me. The word is commonly used in certain music, and means something slightly different: it has as much to do with cowardice and slipperiness and unreliability as with gender. It wasn’t that I wasn’t thinking clearly. It was that I wasn’t thinking at all. At least, not about that. I just wanted to hit a home run in the game.

We had a meeting in Jimmy’s office, Team Fallon and I, and they told me that things were looking bleak, but that we would try to ride it out. Jimmy made a formal apology to Bachmann on Twitter, which put me squarely in the crosshairs (which, to be fair, was exactly where I belonged). In the end, we got lucky. That Tuesday night there was a Republican debate, and Bachmann went out and made a blunder. She was a member of the House Intelligence Committee, and she said that six of Pakistan’s fifteen nuclear sites had come under jihadist attack. Almost immediately people were up in arms. (Is that a pun? If so, it’s not a good one.) They claimed that she had disclosed classified information. Her staff had to get busy putting out that fire, fast. Plus, it was the week of Thanksgiving, which disrupted the normal news cycle. We were saved by the skin of our teeth.

Things could have gone differently. They almost did. I had some friends at Fox News, and on that Tuesday, I asked them for the damage report. As it turned out, people over there had combed through every last lyric of every single Roots album looking for a smoking gun â€" something violent, something misogynistic â€" and found nothing. There was no story there. Finally, the politically correct, mindful hip-hop that we had been practicing from the beginning â€" the same thing that had maybe kept us off the chart or kept our posters off the walls of teenagers’ bedrooms â€" had worked to our advantage.

I have replayed that episode in my head hundreds of times, like Kennedy obsessives do with the Zapruder film. My drum set is up on a grassy knoll. Jimmy’s desk is the book depository. The whole thing happens in terrible slow motion, though there’s clearly only one shooter: me. In retrospect, I would have chosen Sam Cooke’s “What a Wonderful World,” with its “Don’t know much about history” line.

A few days later, I heard from Fishbone. Their management loved me for it; they were wondering why all of a sudden people were cheering so loudly for the song in concert. Unfortunately, Angelo Moore was scheduled to be on the show to promote “Everyday Sunshine,” a documentary about the band, but we had to disinvite him: Jimmy figured that a year should pass before anyone associated with the band came on as a guest. But we still used other Fishbone songs. For instance, we did “Bonin’ in the Boneyard,” from “Truth and Soul,” when Jennifer Lawrence came on to talk about “Winter’s Bone.” The best thing to come of it happened a year later, on David Letterman’s show; after a Top Ten about Bachmann, Paul Shaffer played a few seconds of “Lyin’ Ass Bitch.” It was almost like I was dreaming, but I’m sure I heard it. Thank you, Paul.

And then there was Steve Martin’s reaction. When he appeared on the show as a guest in December of 2011, he found a way to turn the controversy into a bit. He wanted us to do a number of different songs, each of which annoyed him in a different way: he wanted the first one to be offensive, the second one to be too boring, the third one to be too generic, the fourth one to be our revenge for him objecting to every previous selection, and so on. Eventually, we’d try Carly Simon’s “Nobody Does It Better,” and that would satisfy him. We did Steve’s bit, and that was the moment where I finally felt that the heat was officially off.

*

You’d think that the Bachmann debacle would have taught me all I needed to know about tact, but you’d be wrong. Some time after that, I was on Andy Cohen’s Bravo show, “Watch What Happens Live,” and he asked me which guest I most dreaded coming on Fallon. I said Tina Fey, and then tried to explain why. Since early in my career, I always felt a kinship with Philadelphia artists, every actor and singer and author. We had met Tina Fey on “Letterman” when we were both guests, and we tried to make small talk with her and failed. It was painfully awkward. Then we were at another function and it was painfully awkward again. Even though she was from the Philly area, even though she was from the same NBC family, she felt distant to me. I’m not saying it was her any more that it was me. She just felt distant.

There was also an issue with her appearances on Fallon. In the history of the show, there were only a handful of guests who came out to talk to Jimmy without waving to the band. We had a little ritual where we marked that kind of thing down. Tiger Woods did it, twice, and Tina Fey, at various points had done it five times. Maybe it was shyness or reserve. I understood that; I often felt the same way. But after a while it wore on me. All those things were on my mind when I was asked the question on Andy Cohen’s show, and I said something that I thought was a tongue-in-cheek, faux-wounded remark: “Tina Fey, you are never nice to the Roots. We’re from Philadelphia. Be nice to the Roots!” But of course, because the media is a game that people play, they took that one sentence out of context and found a free-frame of my face, looking angry, and all of a sudden there I was on the front page of the Huffington Post, having trouble yet again with a powerful woman.

This time, Lorne had a fit. “I want him out of here,” he said. “He’s gone.” I thought he was a little angrier than the incident deserved, but it was only seven months after Bachmann, and things had been building. In fact, I think that I was fired for about an hour, until Jimmy begged for my job back.

Excerpted from the book “Mo’ Meta Blues: The World According to Questlove” by Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson and Ben Greenman. Copyright 2013 by Ahmir Thompson. Reprinted by permission of Grand Central Publishing. All rights reserved.  

Read More

Sunday, June 23, 2013

The Surprising Reason Why Puppies Twitch In Their Sleep

When I brought my puppy home last August, I knew he would be fun to play with. I had no idea how entertaining he would be when asleep. He dozed constantly, and more often than not, his whole body â€" legs, tail, lips, eyes, ears â€" would twitch. This isn’t a quirk of canines. Sleep twitching happens to “literally every mammal that has been looked at”, says Mark Blumberg, a psychology professor at the University of Iowa. Dogs, cats, rats, ferrets, sheep, squirrels â€" they all twitch. Even whales twitch their flippers. “I have YouTube videos of a guy who recorded his girlfriend’s toes when they twitched,” Blumberg says.

Speaking of videos…(the first one is Blumberg’s dog, Katy):

I undoubtedly spent too much time in the past couple of days doing YouTube searches for twitching babies. What’s funny about many of these videos is the commentary of those behind the camera. They tend to say one of two things: “OMG, look at that spaz!” or, “Awww, he’s dreaming.” And that’s how sleep researchers have traditionally thought of twitches, too, according to Blumberg.

“The sleep field really started off in many ways as an offshoot of Freudian psychoanalysis and the study of dreams,” Blumberg says. “People see these movements and they think, ‘Oh, Fido is chasing rabbits in his dreams.’ But it turns out that that’s almost certainly not the case.” In an engaging new review in Current Biology, Blumberg argues that these sleep twitches actually have an indispensible purpose: to teach a newborn what all of its limbs and muscles can do, and how to use them in concert to interact with the big, wide world.

The first big study to propose this idea was published more than 40 years ago in Science. Howard Roffwarg, then director of the Sleep Laboratory at the New York State Psychiatric Institute, described the behaviors and brain-wave patterns of newborn human babies as they sleep. He noted that a newborn spends “one-third of its entire existence” in a REM state, with intense brain activity and continuous muscle contractions.

“Grimaces, whimpers, smiles, twitches of the face and extremities are interspersed with gross shifts of position of the limbs,” Roffwarg wrote. “There are frequent 10- to 15-second episodes of tonic, athetoid writhing of the torso, limbs, and digits.” Since newborns can barely see, the idea that these spasms are useless byproducts of their dreams is unlikely, he added. What if, instead, twitches play a key role in the development of the nervous system?

That paper has been cited more than 1,000 times, but it took awhile to percolate*. A decade ago, two big Nature papers reinvigorated the idea that sleep twitches are important, Blumberg says. In the first, Swedish scientists reported that in young rats, spontaneous muscle twitches during sleep help program the cells in the spinal cord to carry out the withdrawal reflex. In the second paper, a French group showed that sleep twitches in newborn rats trigger patterned bursts of neuronal firing that are known to be important for motor coordination. Blumberg’s own experiments have found similar things; last year, for example, he reported that newborn rats twitch their whiskers frequently during sleep, and that these twitches drive certain bursts of activity in several brain regions.

Blumberg uses nifty high-speed video to precisely track the jerky movements of baby rats as they fall asleep. He doesn’t use any anesthesia in these experiments, so I asked him how he manages to get the animals to fall asleep on command. “The hard part is keeping them awake!” he said. Turns out newborn rats cycle from asleep to awake every 10 to 30 seconds. The cycle: They wake up, stretch, yawn, kick, and lift their head around. After about five seconds, they suddenly go limp, with no movement other than breathing. Then individual twitches begin â€" a limb here, tail there. “Then it starts to build, and almost starts to get this real powerful look of epilepsy to it,” Blumberg says. Then they wake up and it starts all over again.

Here are a couple of Blumberg’s videos. The one on the left shows the movements in real time; the one on the right is in slow-motion:

To the naked eye, the movements seem random. But Blumberg’s experiments have shown that the flailing is actually quite ordered in space and time. For example, when an animal brings its right elbow in toward its shoulder, there’s a high probability that the left elbow will immediately follow in the same pattern. Similarly, on the same limb, if the shoulder moves in toward the body, there’s a high probability that the elbow would then flex. Blumberg suspects that these predictable couplings are building blocks that help the developing motor system learn more complex behaviors.

“The brain is trying to understand, what are my limbs, how many do I have, and how many joints, and muscles, and how do they all move together?” he says. Once these simple commands are learned, he continues, the brain can use them to learn more complex sequences. “So that later, you can fire off a command somewhere in your mind, and generate a whole series of joint movements that would bring a bottle to your mouth, or make it possible to step.”

Nobody knows for sure how to read this code â€" that is, how any particular pattern of twitches leads to a specific complex behavior. But Blumberg says the future of figuring this out is with robots. Researchers can design computer simulations of simple neural networks, program in some random muscle contractions, and see what kinds of circuit patterns emerge. For example, roboticists Hugo Gravato Marques and Fumiya Iida of the University of Zurich (who co-authored the new review) have used such simulations to show that twitches help form the spinal cord’s withdrawal reflex â€" a neat confirmation of the earlier Nature paper. In the future, the robots will get more sophisticated, modeling twitches in multiple joints and multiple limbs, Blumberg says. “These feedback loops all have to be integrated and mapped, and it’s a very difficult thing to study in an animal.”

I asked Blumberg how the rest of the sleep field has responded to these ideas. He said he had just been to a big sleep conference in Baltimore and that, for the most part, sleep researchers still aren’t giving much thought to development. “I can’t tell you how many people have theories about sleep, and they all want to have a grand theory of sleep.” Some people think sleep is for memory consolidation, others that it’s for pruning synapses, or conserving energy, or even just limiting the time we have to make stupid decisions and put ourselves in danger.

But for Blumberg, the question, What is sleep for? is just as silly as, What is being awake for? Just as being awake is a good state for eating, drinking, and reproducing, perhaps sleep just happens to be the best time for consolidating memories, saving energy, and learning motor patterns. “What we have to come up with is the reason why sleep is so conducive for all of those things.”

*

Blumberg wrote a comprehensive historical review of the idea in Frontiers in Neurology 

You can read about other scientists using biological principles to build robots in my 2011 feature in New Scientist

Read More

Saturday, June 22, 2013

My Secret Life As A Graffiti Artist

Graffiti artist Glynn Judd standing in front of one of his paintings
Graffiti artist and former train-writer Glynn Judd, aka NOIR, in front of one of his paintings in north London. Photograph: Frantzesco Kangaris

The case of Kristian Holmes, the graffiti artist jailed this week for three and a half years after being convicted of 39 incidents of criminal damage and perverting the course of justice, brings back vivid memories for me. Like him, I led a double life â€" respectable job by day, graffiti artist by night. Like him, I'm a dad. And like him, I was caught and sent to prison.

I was sentenced to 16 months, of which I served four months in HMP Wormwood Scrubs and four months on home detention curfew, with the remainder to serve on licence. I find it interesting that Stuart Hall, the entertainer who was convicted of child abuse this week, got only 15 months. It seems to me that the courts value property more than they value the scarred life of a child.

There's a similar double-standard within graffiti art. Banksy will draw on the side of a building and the councils will protect him; they will fight over the piece of work going to a gallery because they want it to stay in their community. However, if another graffiti artist comes along, tags on that wall, the council will expect a criminal conviction. If Banksy got arrested and went to court I wonder whether he would suffer the same fate as Kristian Holmes? I doubt it. So when does graffiti become a crime?

I've met Kristian on numerous occasions and I know him as a tagger, or what we'd call a bomber. The court was told that for seven years he daubed his tag "on an industrial scale" across the south-east of England. Kristian, a father-of-two, worked as a respected property surveyor during the day, but in his free time went out with his spray can. If asked whether I like his style, the answer would probably be no, but at the end of the day he's getting his name â€" VAMP â€" out there, and that's all that matters.

The The "VAMP" tag used by graffiti artist Kristian Holmes, who was jailed this week. Photograph: Central News

For a decade I was known as the most prolific train-writer in the country, using the tag NOIR. British transport police had a chart of the most-wanted graffiti artists, and I was No 1. I was proud of the title and relished the years of cat-and-mouse games as they tried to apprehend me. I'm writing a book called Addicted to Steel: the Story of London's Most Wanted Graffiti Vandal, which gives a detailed account of how our secret society exists.

Graffiti art originated in the late 1960s in Philadelphia in the US, and then arrived on the New York subway system in the 70s, so for me it's always been an art form based on trains. Painting on trains is very fast-moving â€" you paint it, it goes into service, it goes from one city to the next, one end of the country to the other, so everyone gets to see it for a certain amount of time, and then it gets cleaned off. To me it was all about the movement, the fluidity of it, rather than it being stagnant on a wall where most people wouldn't see it. I wanted my name all over the city.

By the time it came to England, the train scene was pretty much over in New York. Mayor Ed Koch and New York City Metropolitan Transportation Authority boss Bob Kiley promised to eradicate graffiti and made sure that anything that went into service was cleaned immediately. But a book called Subway Art, written by Martha Cooper and Henry Chalfant, opened our eyes to this new art form. As kids, we studied that book; it was full of trains covered in graffiti, with names like SEEN, SKEME, DEZ and FUZZ ONE. Two years later, another book, Spraycan Art, was published, which included graffiti on walls â€" colour productions by crews around the world showcasing their talent. By the mid-80s, the graffiti art movement had gone global.

Graffiti has been part of my life since I was 12. At school, I would sit in lessons drawing my name instead of listening to the teachers. When Saturday morning came, I'd grab my bag of paints, meet up with friends and go and paint.

After leaving school, I got a job in London as a property investor at a global bank, but I kept painting trains. I was often doing it four nights a week. On Monday mornings I would turn up having barely slept all weekend, and my colleagues would say, "Blimey mate, you look a right mess, what have you been up to?" I couldn't tell them the truth â€" so I told them I'd been out partying. And to me it was a party â€" but in a train yard instead.

My job was very target-driven: there were multimillion-pound deals and lots of foreign clients to socialise with. I'd have a few drinks, then go home, have an hour or so's kip, then assume this different persona, and be out until six or seven o'clock the next morning. People's perceptions of graffiti writers seems to run along the lines of council-housed and violent, when in reality many of us are upstanding members of the community in our late 30s and early 40s with good jobs and families to support.

In the early days I didn't have the internet to help me locate yards. I used to have a little train bible â€" basically a trainspotters' book that tells you where the trains are laid up and coupled in the sidings, and the best place to enter and take photographs of them. Only a few of us ever had this book â€" it was the holy grail to many train writers.

Gaining access to the train yards was difficult. You would have to take a pair of bolt cutters with you and cut your way through. I had a lot of yard knowledge â€" I did my homework. I would watch the cleaners, follow the train drivers home and note what cars they drove. They used to activate the sensors on the yard fences about midnight; so if you arrived early, you could cut the hole without them knowing. You'd sit there for hours watching the security guards. It was the best game of cat and mouse you could play. Sometimes I've been so close I could probably whisper in their ear. They'd look around but wouldn't know I was there. Then when they left I would paint the train, take a photograph, and leave. The adrenalin rush was amazing, and difficult to replicate.

Graffitti artist Kristian Holmes at Blackfriar's Crown Court. Both Kristian Holmes, pictured, and Glynn Judd had well-paid jobs by day, and went out with their spray cans at night. Photograph: Kevin Dunnett/Central News

The courts and the media like to make out that we cause thousands of pounds worth of damage to trains, and that it takes many man hours to clean them. But in fact the trains have a protective film on them and the paint we use is acrylic â€" it's water-based. Most train yards have a washer system, which we call the "buff", that takes about 10 minutes to clean the whole train, and that's it â€" it goes back into service.

I kept my double life secret for 10 years. During that time I travelled the world and met some amazing people, many of whom didn't even speak the same language, but we were all focused on the same thing â€" which was to go into a train yard and paint our names as colourfully as we could. I've had experiences I will always treasure.

Then one day I decided there wasn't much left for me to do. I hadn't been caught, everybody knew my name, I was well respected, I'd painted with some of my heroes and I thought now I needed to do something else. It wasn't divine inspiration â€" I didn't get a tap on the shoulder saying: "Now is the time to give up and redeem yourself" â€" I just started falling out of love with it. I gave up working in the City and I went back to college to retrain. I started getting involved in community projects and workshops for kids; I was even asked to help paint the Dizzee Rascal house for the Olympics opening ceremony.

I started getting invited to art exhibitions of legal graffiti writers' work. After a year of not painting illegally, hoping I'd been forgotten about, I started attending these events and doing gallery shows. I put my name out there and was doing good things, I thought. But the British transport police graffiti squad attend those events, too, and take covert photographs of everyone. They took a photo of me, studied it and realised who I was. They had been chasing me for 12 years and now they had me on camera. They started building a case based on that one photograph. They didn't have a single picture of me committing an offence, but they went to Yahoo, Google and Flickr and got permission to download all my conversations with magazines and websites.

Is Kristian Holmes's disproportionate sentence going to be a deterrent to others? No. People who commit criminal damage will carry on regardless of the sentence they get. It's the justice system and how it deals with sentencing that needs to change. How can judges justify giving harsher sentences to graffiti artists than to paedophiles and rapists? If you really want to stop criminal damage, you start with educating kids in schools.

I was sitting on a beach with my six-year-old daughter recently. I picked up a stone and started writing in the sand. She said: "You shouldn't do that, Daddy." I said: "But I'm just writing our names." She took the stone off me and burst into tears. I couldn't understand why it was a problem. Whereas my little one seems to know already.

As told to Aida Edemariam

Read More

Friday, June 21, 2013

A Reality TV Show That Airs Only On Twitter, Instagram

[image]Michal Czerwonka for The Wall Street Journal

Crew members shoot a promo video with cast members of 'Summer Break' in Palm Springs, Calif.

LOS ANGELESâ€"Two teenage boys sit by the airport here, competing to use their phones to take the best "selfie," or self-portrait, with planes landing in the background.

Trevis and Ray write about the experience on Twitter, post pictures on Instagram and put short videos on Vine. It might be an average day for any American teenager in 2013.

Peter Chernin sees the entertainment industry’s future in social media. This month, Chernin Group will launch “Summer Break,” a reality show of sorts to exist exclusively on sites like Twitter and Tumblr. Benjamin Fritz has details.

Hollywood producer Peter Chernin is betting it is the future of the entertainment industry.

On June 17, his Chernin Group takes its first step into distributing its own programming with "Summer Break," a reality show of sorts that will exist exclusively on social-media sites like Twitter and Tumblr, and is intended to be viewed on the mobile devices that dominate the lives of its target audience.

"Summer Break" will follow nine L.A.-area teenagers in the final days before most of them head off to college. But unlike traditional reality shows that complete shooting and are then edited into drama-fraught narratives, "Summer Break" will offer tweets, pictures and videos within minutes after cast members create them.

"Summer Break" is a new kind of reality-TV program built from the tweets, pictures and videos created by the nine L.A.-area teenagers the series follows. Sixty-second "episodes" assembled by professionals will typically post daily on YouTube.

Sixty-second daily "episodes" assembled by professionals will typically post on YouTube within 24 hours of the events they portray. Weekly wrap-up videos will look like marathons by comparison, running three to five minutes each.

"This is on a level so much further than anything anybody has ever doneâ€"it is real life in real time on multiple platforms," said Mr. Chernin, a former president of News Corp . "I love the riskiness of it."

By Hollywood standards, the financial risk is actually quite low. The entire eight-week season of "Summer Break" is said by several people involved to cost under $5 million to produce. Mr. Chernin said "the lion's share" of that amount was paid for by sponsor AT&T Inc., which has been involved throughout the development process. Roughly half the total budget is going toward marketingâ€"all on social media, just like the show itself.

Though a risk, the experimental format also highlights the opportunity independent players like Mr. Chernin have to challenge broadcast networks and film studios as their old monopolies on distribution have been supplanted by smartphones, tablets and game consoles.

In addition to being asked to tweet his or her daily activities as frequently as possible, each "Summer Break" participant has an application from Dropbox Inc. on his or her phone that lets producers see every photo they take and video they record.

"If you're at a party and you take 50 photos you wouldn't Instagram until the next day, we're going to post them for you," said Lauren Dubinsky, a social-media consultant who is helping with the show, speaking about the participants. "And if you tweet you're at a party, we send a text asking, 'Where are the pictures?'"

The monitoring goes on 20 hours a day, courtesy of a 45-person production and social-media crew who work out of a small office in Culver City, Calif. The only time someone isn't digitally chaperoning the teenage charges is between 3 a.m. and 7 a.m.

The team also manages the @summerbreak Twitter handle, which already has nearly 98,000 followers. The account was acquired when the show hired Caroline Harkleroad, a 19-year-old from Atlanta who has built a series of Twitter handles popular with teens (her first, @HighSkoolProbs, has more than 500,000 followers). Ms. Harkleroad repurposed her Twitter feed of "summer bucket list" ideas for teenagers and transitioned it into the core "Summer Break" Twitter feed. At the time it had about 88,000 followers, giving the show a much-needed head start.

tumblr

An image shared on Tumblr

Participants in "Summer Break" are followed intermittently by a professional television crew that puts together videos meant to complement the cast's social-media activities. A group of experienced reality producers will work on rotating shifts day and night, editing the daily and weekly videos.

The teens were selected using traditional reality-TV casting methods, including recruitment at schools and sporting events. In addition to seeking kids who are attractive on camera, the producers also judged their savviness at social media. Four of the teens come from one high school and five from another.

Through Chernin Group, Mr. Chernin has become one of the most powerful producers and investors in Hollywood, with backers including Providence Equity Partners, the Qatari sovereign-wealth fund and Victor Koo, the founder of Chinese online video giant Youku .

Founded in 2009 after Mr. Chernin left News Corp. (the parent of The Wall Street Journal), Los Angeles-based Chernin Group is known best for its investments in startups in the U.S. and Asia, as well as producing movies including "Rise of the Planet of the Apes" and television shows like "New Girl."

Though it works with partners in traditional media, Chernin Group is seeking to forge its own future online. It is currently bidding to acquire online television distributor Hulu LLC (possibly in partnership with AT&T), and is an investor in FullScreen, a company that distributes and promotes user-generated videos on YouTube and is assisting with marketing for "Summer Break."

A recent Nielsen Co. study found that 12-to-17 year-olds spend significantly less time watching television than older peers and more watching video on phones. Though teens still watch far more TV than mobile video, the shift to smartphone is expected to accelerate.

Producers will have only modest influence on what the "Summer Break" teens do each day, meaning drama isn't guaranteed. A few sample episodes already produced included the airport visit, the breakup of a couple who met in casting, and lots of scantily clad cast members on the beach.

"We're going into this blind in a sense," said Brandon Wilson, an executive producer. "I don't know where the show is going moment to moment."

He added, however, that future episodes' focus will be determined in part by analysis of which characters and events fans respond to on social media.

In a broad sense, the show's producers are attempting to prove that they are still relevant in the world of social media, where teenagers increasingly create and consume their own stories.

"I want it to feel almost user-generated," said Billy Parks, a production executive for Chernin Group overseeing the effort. "But because we are filmmakers and marketers, I hope we can craft a story a little better than they can."

Write to Ben Fritz at ben.fritz@wsj.com

A version of this article appeared June 12, 2013, on page B1 in the U.S. edition of The Wall Street Journal, with the headline: A Reality TV Show, Without TV.

Read More
Powered By Blogger · Designed By Top Digg Stories