[This is a book review I've written for next month's Die Neue Szene, the local independent monthly, in case anyone feels like reading it.]


"Roboter Geschichte - Technik - Entwicklung" (Daniel Ichbiah)

The world of robotics is an expansive theme, and one that obviously fascinates Daniel Ichbiah, the author of this volume. Covering the technological development of robots, from the automatons of the Renaissance to the Mars Rovers of today, “Robots” takes a very detailed look at the history of robots, and how they have come play such an important role in modern society.

Modern consumer-oriented experiments like Honda’s humanoid Asimo, or Sony’s beloved mechanical canine, the Aibo, are covered in detail, and placed in their proper historical context. Fleshing out the author’s own experience, interviews with technological luminaries such as the creators of the phenomenal hit game “The Sims”, are sprinkled throughout the text.

Though impressive, this book is not without its faults. The lack of an index leaves the reader flipping through more than 500 pages when looking for a specific piece of information, and disqualifies its use for doing serious research. Additionally, the graphic design and layout add to the overall feel of disorganization.

Despite these shortcomings, Ichbiah’s “Roboter” is an entertaining and informative volume that will please the techno-geek in everyone. His informed vision of the future of robotics is exciting, and his enthusiasm for the subject is well-expressed and contagious. Anyone with an interest in technology, and the fusion of artificial intelligence with household appliances, could find a worse way to spend 35€.

Well well, the local teeny-bopper radio station has taken an interest in your humble host. There was an attractive young lady in the palatial YouBitch offices over the weekend, interviewing yours truly and the lovely Miss Moebius for a special on blogs, and the blogging bloggers who blog them. The interview was a lot of fun, but it brought to my attention a couple of things about myself. For example, I have no freakin' clue why I do what I do here at youbitch.org. I mean, really, how many of you bloggers out there could actually really tell someone with 100% honesty why you blog? I'm not really the interviewing type, so I couldn't really think of the proper bullshit platitudes to flesh out my meagre answers. Another thing I learned, was that I don't really know when to shut up once I get going. The interview was about 25 minutes long, and I got the feeling I talked for about 40 minutes of that.

I also got to hear myself speaking in German. I really thought I had this whole faking a native accent in German thing just about conquered. I've been practicing it for almost six years now, and thought I had it pretty much down. But goodness gracious, I sound like I just got off the plane and asked for the nearest McDonald's, goddamit, don't nobody speak English 'round here?! I guess I should try and figure out if German girls think a ridiculous American accent is sexy, and adjust myself accordingly. Then again, I can't imagine that German spoken with any accent can be sexy, but one can dream...

Du kannst träumen, baby. wink

I'll be posting a podcast of the interview after the show airs. It's in German, but you'll still be able to revel in the silky, dulcimer tones of the full-throated manliness that is Rube. Oh, and I think Miss Moebius Managed to get a word in, too.

According to this study, you shall all bow before the One True Rube:

A new study of 100 university undergraduates in Toronto has found that video gamers consistently outperform their non-playing peers in a series of tricky mental tests. If they also happened to be bilingual, they were unbeatable.

I am bilingual. I play video games. Fear me!

This is one of the awesomest things I've seen in a long time.

Howdy, folks, just finishing off an evening of pub-crawling here in Dogpatch. Tonight was apparently Her Majesty's Eighties-Trash Night in the Old Country, and every song the bars played reminded me of sweaty, fumbling encounters in the back of somebody's brother's car with a hopped-up cheerleader and a bottle of Boone's Farm. The eighties were a sweaty, fumbling time for me, in the Biblical sense, as it was for the entire world, on a more philosophical level. Ah, good times.

So, I'm finishing up the evening, sitting on the couch, drinking brandy and water, while honey-baby is sleeping off the spins in the other room. Going through the iPod, I found some old INXS tunes, determined to extend the roller-rink vibe. Man oh man, Michael Hutchence, he had it all. Fame, looks, talent. Inspiration for such songs as Disappear, Listen Like thieves, the Devil Inside. Then, he died of asphyxiation while masturbating, hung from the neck by his own leather belt. There but for the grace of God, I thought to myself, then drifted off to sleep.