High Dynamic Range - and that's no lying!

I have blogged before about the relatively poor dynamic range of digital camera sensors over film. My post Film vs. Digital... and Film won...almost earlier in this blog chronicles my having to fall back on film to save the day that would have otherwise have been ruined by the smaller dynamic range of a digital sensor. But I would spoil the story by telling it here, and there's nothing more tiresome than a twice-told tale. So, please do read the post.

The human eye can detect tonal differences of approximately 1,000,000,000 to 1, or on a logarithmic scale 90dB. Film can detect far less, and digital sensors less still. Camera sensor manufacturers and film manufacturers before them have been trying for the last 100 years or so to compress the tonal range in a scene visible to the human eye, to that which can be captured on the imperfect medium. And they have had to make trade-offs to achieve this.

This is the cause of the oft-heard lament of the amateur snap-shooter that "the picture looked so much better in person" and the camera didn't quite do justice to the scene. The film or the camera sensor is designed to compress the vast tonal range of the scene into that which it can capture by eliminating the tones that are above and below its capacity to record. So the brightest and the darkest parts of the scene are 'clipped', resulting in blown highlights and inky shadows with no detail.

Of course, not all scenes require the use of the whole dynamic range that the human eye can see. And in these cases the camera, whether film or digital is perfectly capable of producing an acceptable, even beautiful picture. In the movie business, directors use artificial lighting and reflectors to light the shadows to reduce the dynamic range of the picture, so that when we see the final product in the theaters, the picture seems entirely natural.

That is until now. With computing power at the desktop becoming cheap and plentiful, a breed of software programs has emerged that allows the user to merge several pictures of the same scene, each exposed for a different part of the scene - shadows, midtones, highlights - to create a final image that approximates the tonal dynamic range that the human eye can perceive.

The software does the complex mathematical jugglery to take the correctly exposed parts of each of the images and mash them together seamlessly to create the final image. A niche piece of software called Photomatix does this well and of course an HDR function is available as part of Photoshop CS2.

Since all this mathematical jiggery-pokery made my head hurt, I decided to create a modest HDR image of my own, and so I offer this example for your delectation. It was made from 3 exposures - one exposed for the view outside the balcony, one for the table and chairs in the foreground, and one for the ceiling of the loggia. I now regret that I didn't make one more exposure for the red-brick floor in the sunlight where the detail is blown out, but you get the idea.

Photography
High Dynamic Range
HDR

Friends and old cars, or is that cars and old friends?

It's been quite a while since I blogged. The reasons are fairly typical - being rushed off my feet at work, a fairly hectic travel schedule, and visiting friends. Good friends KK and AS were in town over the weekend and a good deal of time was spent in debating obtuse topics over lots of wine and excellent food.

KK is a old friend and lives in Munich and what endeared him to me when we first met was that he loves cars and photography, two of my own passions. AS who also is an enthusiastic photographer, combines a passion for motorcycles - another of my many diversions.

But, not for KK the pedestrian pursuit of photography as done with a digital point and shoot and mini-lab prints. He wields an antique Linhof plate camera that uses 8X10 sheet film. The pictures that he produces are ethereally beautiful, capable of extremely large enlargements. Due to the relative immobility of his gear, he specializes in landscapes using very small apertures and long shutter speeds to achieve incredible depth of field. His objective for the visit was to capture the fall colors in the aspen trees in the higher elevations of the Rocky Mountains.

His interest in cars is every bit as esoteric as his inclination to photography. He is passionate about old Mercedes-Benz cars and collects them. His current collection in Munich contains a 1978 280SL pagoda roof coupe and a 1960 190D Ponton amongst other very nice old Mercedes. He is still hopeful that he will make the proverbial discovery in a disused barn of a 1959 300SL.

This is of course the classic-car lover's version of alchemy. The story goes something like this: Our protagonist is helping a friend clear out the run-down farm of a distant and now deceased relative, and upon opening up the ramshackle barn is confronted with a large object covered in a tarpaulin. Upon whipping off the tarpaulin and recovering from an attack of sneezes brought on by decades of dust collected thereupon, he glimpses the bulging and curvaceous flanks of a 1950s Mercedes. Closer inspection reveals a gull-wing 300SL in silver with cracked red leather upholstery, sitting on rotted deflated tires. Then begins the long, painful and expensive process of restoration, culminating in the winning of the Pebble Beach Concours. The transformation of a hunk of junk from the barn to a half-million dollar super sports car. Alchemy indeed.

The colors of the aspen were truly breathtaking this weekend and we tooled along the Peak to Peak Highway in crisp 65 degree weather with eyeball-searing colors on either side of the highway, talking old Mercedes. I can't think of a better way to spend a fall Saturday morning.

Mercedes
Classic Cars
Photography

Sturgis the Great Leveller

And we're back..

After an entertaining but exhausting 2 weeks, putting some 2,600 miles on a new Mercedes, we're back. The weather in all of Europe was incredibly hot, averaging 36 to 38 degrees Celsius (98 to 100 degrees Fahrenheit).

Much as I love Europe, and travel there often, there are things about Europe that amaze and confound me everytime I am there. They are:

1. Why is air-conditioning so rare, even in new buildings? In hotels and airports where air-conditioning is available, why do they keep things so warm? I am convinced that Europeans do not understand that air-conditioning means not having to perspire freely, even while relaxing in an armchair.

2. Why is smoking so common even amongst educated people? Has the news of the dangers of smoking not reached Europe? Or is it considered cool and ensouciant to kill yourself, all the while reeking of burning leaves?

3. Why can you not get ice in your drinks unless you beg, plead and beseech your waiter, who regards you with the withering pity reserved for imbeciles and Americans?

Anyway, be that as it may. Europe was everything it always is. Gracious, breathtakingly beautiful, and seductive in its wise and wonderful ways.

No sooner than we returned from the Old World, was I sucked head-long into the phenomenon that typifies Americana at its brashest, loudest and most narcissistic - the Annual Bike Week in Sturgis.

Now, for those unfamiliar with Sturgis, it is a small South Dakota town with a population of about 6,000 which swells to about a hundred times that during the annual week long festival celebrating motorcycling in general and Harley-Davidsons in particular. A friend and I had decided to ride to Sturgis to participate in the festivities and the fact that the weekend occurred just after we returned from Europe did not deter me one bit.

So with the trusty RoadKing loaded with a tour-pack and two saddle-bags, we set off on Saturday at dawn. The 'King rumbled through the nearly 400 miles from Boulder to Sturgis at a pretty good pace, and we arrived in time for lunch on Main Street in Sturgis.

As I wandered up Main St., I was struck by the sheer diversity of the people and machines gathered at this annual pilgrimage - a sort of Haj for the motorcycling faithful. The bars were packed with investment bankers who had trailered their extravagantly customised Ultra Classic Electra Glides from the East Coast along with their trophy wives, rubbing shoulders with truck drivers from the South who were spending their annual vacations riding up to the holiest of holy shrines to motorcycling. Roadside stalls which previously might have exclusively sold T-shirts, jackets, chaps and other motorcycling wear now were joined by tonier boutique stalls selling expensive lingerie and jewelry - a nod to the increasing presence of women in motorcycling, as passengers and as riders in their own right.

At the Full Throttle saloon, that evening I met Fred and Francine - he's a coal truck driver from Kentucky and she's a nurse practioner, who had spent the previous 2 days riding all the way to Sturgis and were getting ready enjoy the sights, sounds and smells of Bike Week. Gentle and friendly folk, they were not in the least abashed by their thick Southern accent as they plied everyone in their vicinity with friendly banter. Dean a real-estate developer from Chicago, his arm weighed down by the solid gold Rolex he sported, bought a round of drinks for everyone around him as his friends Chuck and Bill, a banker and a lawyer, also from the Chicago area passed around cigars. A cosier picture of bonhomie could not be found.

These people who populated this corner of the earth on this weekend could not have been more different than one another, and in any other situation might never have been in same place at the same time, let alone speak to one another. But here, in Sturgis, brought together by their shared love of motorcycling, they were not banker, lawyer, developer and truck driver, but just fellow acolytes at the temple.

I think there's a lesson in there for the troubled world we live in. I can't think of what it might be. I am heady from imbibing exhaust fumes and rubber smoke from the burnouts on Main St.

Sturgis
Harley-Davidson
Motorcycles

Off on vacation

I will not be blogging for the next couple of weeks as we leave this weekend for Europe. We pick up a new car in Stuttgart, Germany and drive through Southern Germany stopping to visit friends in Munich, and then over Tyrolean Alps across the Brenner Pass into Austria. A day in Innsbruck followed by a few days dawdling along the Italian lake district will get us to Tuscany.

In Tuscany we shall install ourselves at a villa for a week and gorge on Chianti and Tuscan food. Then we wander up northern Tuscany and into Switzerland stopping in Lugano on the border of Italy and Switzerland for a bit. A night in Zurich to re-visit some old haunts and we mosey on over to Munich to drop off the car for shipment home.

We stay the weekend in Munich to catch up with other friends, and fly home on Monday July 31.

If the spirit moves you, follow along as we make our way through Germany, Austria, Italy and Switzerland on my other blog The Mercedes Chronicles.

You will be spared my self-important pontification for the next couple of weeks, but I hope to be back full of vim and vitriol in August.

Friends in High Places

The New York Times reports that pop music producer Dallas Austin was released from detention in Dubai after being convicted of drug possession charges, due to the intervention of Lionel Richie, (who apparently is huge in the Middle East - like Jerry Lewis is in France or David Hasselhof in Germany) Quincy Jones and a third connection that beggars belief - Sen Orrin Hatch (R-UT).

Apparently the man who is named for two Texas cities, entered Dubai to attend the 3 day birthday bash of Naomi Campbell, the super model, at the super swanky Burj Al Arab hotel with a little over a gram of cocaine in his possession. He was frisked at the airport upon arrival and frog-marched to detention where he remained (except for court apperances) from May 19 to July 4. In a supremely symbolic gesture, the Dubai government decided it would be appropriate to give him his freedom on Independence Day.

Now there are several things that puzzle me about this story. Firstly, I can understand Quincy Jones and Lionel Richie rallying to the support of one of their own - I mean music industry types of course. But The Honorable Gentleman from Utah? The staunch supporter of the bid to amend the Constitution to make flag burning illegal? The same upstanding gentleman who is the bulwark of support behind the administration's warrantless surveillance program? The same person who himself eschews alcohol, tea, coffee and all manner of stimulants? Why would he want to be associated with Dallas Austin's seamy situation?

It turns out that Sen Hatch is a musician himself. While his music has perhaps not enjoyed the success of some of Austin's other clients like Madonna, Gwen Stefani and Janet Jackson, he presumably entertains some ambitions in that direction. Apparently his mostly religious recordings have made about $36,000. No platinum there.

Now it all starts to make sense. What better way to ingratiate yourself to the music industry establishment than by leveraging your connections with the government of Dubai (obtained through the enthusiastic backing of the deal where Dubai Ports was going to buy control of a number of American ports) to release one of the music industry's errant sons, from the ignominous fate of rotting in a Middle Eastern prison?

OK I get it. Now only one question remains. Were Austin's name to be say, Buffalo Binghampton or Trenton Newark or even Dayton Cleveland, (that is to say, just another oddly named individual unconnected to the music industry) would he have received the attention of the many luminaries? Probably not.

Oh and just one last thing. Who has 3 day long birthday parties? Clearly no one I know.

A convenient lie

Think for just a moment. If you had invented the Internet, what would you do? You would send a letter to the guys at CERN (the oh-so-efficient Swiss who claim to have actually invented the thing) to say that your price for silence would be say $10 Million (a year), all the while holding your left pinky up to your lips. Then wait for the checks to roll in. Chilling on a beach in the Azores sipping fruity drinks with little umbrellas in them would not be out of the question.

Not good enough for Al Gore. No sir. Not content with having invented the internet, he is now taking on the knotty problem of Global Warming. Yes - with a capital G and W.

Having written this tome called an Inconvenient Truth and toured the country with his slide show, he is now hectoring us with the eponymous movie. The point he makes, and not too subtly at that, is that Global Warming is the result of human activities and the earth is the warmest it has been for 2000 years. We had all better give up our profligate ways, or there will be no earth for our grandchildren to enjoy.

OK, fine. I have the following questions for the creator of the greatest human endeavor since the wheel:

1. If this is the warmest the Earth has been for 2000 years, it suggests that it was as warm 2000 years ago. What caused the inhabitants of the planet not to be plunged into calamity from which to never recover?
2. I'm pretty sure GM wasn't making Hummers back then, so what caused the Earth to warm so alarmingly? There weren't air-conditioning plants pumping hot air into the atmosphere, and jets streaking across the sky. How are we sure the warming is human induced?
3. My 7th grade Biology class taught me that plants needed carbon dioxide for photosynthesis. They absorb CO2 and give out oxygen in the process. So if there is more CO2 in the world today is that not good for re-forestation? With the abundance of CO2 purportedly caused by people driving fast cars (like me) wouldn't there be more for plants to grow more and greener?
4. Do you think Al Gore after delivering his killer presentation rode a bicycle home? Not so much. He had a chartered Boeing 707 ferry him home. And in so doing, emitted more CO2 than all the Hummer H3s produced to date.

Here's a quote from the guys who know - The DRUDGE REPORT:

"Vice President Al Gore is burning more than 439,500 pounds of fuel, or 65,600 gallons, at a cost of more than $131,000 on his 16,000 mile daytrip, just to deliver the warning. Gore's plane, a Boeing 707 gas guzzler burns on average 4.1 gallons a mile. The complete Washington to Florida to Washington to Alaska to Japan and return to Washington trip calculated from commercial air mileage tables is just over 16,000 miles total. Gas gallons needed for AIR FORCE II to go 16,000 miles: 65,600. Applying the average price of $2.01 per gallon of Jet A to the 16,000 mile r/t -- the fuel cost alone passes $131,000.00. There are 6.7 pounds per gallon of jet fuel. Total pounds of fuel burned on Gore's Global Warming Express -- 439,500"

Do you think there might be just a touch of hypocrisy here?

Oh, and I almost forgot my last question for that consummate environmentalist and inventor of that Information Super-Highway thingummy:

5. Dude, can you do something about this spam? This thing you created is a monster.


Al Gore
Global Warming
An Inconvenient Truth
Climate Change

Work, travel and a conundrum

I have been falling behind in my blogging as the work and travel schedule during the last week has been pretty hectic. The result of all this rushing around has meant that I have not been able to take any pictures, go out for a motorcycle ride or wash and wax the cars, for more than a week - all things I consider to be balance-restoring and therapeutic.

I miss the bonding experience with the cars and I am sure the cars miss it too. The black brake dust turning the silver wheels into burnished gun-metal, offers mute testimony to my lassitude.

The lathering of the body with suds and the washing down of the flanks with a soft sponge. The gentle coaxing of tar and tree-sap spots with a warm wet rag and drying off with soft terry cloth towels. The brushing between wheel nooks and crevices with a soft toothbrush and the final detail with a gloss enhancer spray. The ritual of car washing allows me to spend some quiet time with the cars, perhaps with Mark Knopfler on the iPod Sound Dock in the garage, re-acquainting myself with every curve and crease-line of their bodies as the late afternoon light glances off the surface. When I don't find the time to enjoy this communion with one of my favorite art-forms, I am a lot poorer for it.

On one of my trips last week, we had just boarded our flight from Denver to Minneapolis, and I settled myself into the window seat at the exit row. As the rest of the passengers filed in, there was a significant contingent of young families, off on vacation at the start of the summer. The air started to fill with the cry of babies who seemed to sense their impending incarceration in an air-tight aluminum tube, making their displeasure known.

As a young family squeezed into the seats behind me, the father with 2 kids stowed away his hand baggage and got the kids settled. The mother with another child moved to another row further behind. The kids ranged in ages from about 3 to about 8. The oldest, the 8 year old boy occupied the seat directly behind me, and decided to make my acquaintance by delivering a vicious kick to the back of my seat, causing me to almost plant my face in the back of the seat in front of me.

I thought a baleful glare would be sufficient admonishment at this time, and so turned around and delivered what I thought would be my most piercing old-fashioned look. The kid seemed not be in the least bit affected by my efforts and continued to page through a coloring book. The father, I thought was being particularly cavalier about his parental responsibilities, having buried his nose in a sudoku puzzle book that he had brought along.

My attempt at shaming the family into an apology having failed miserably, I turned around and started getting into my book again. Barely a paragraph into my reading, came a couple of swift belts to the back of my seat that caused me think that I had mistaken a mule for an 8 year old boy. So violent and determined was the kick, that it shook not just my seat but the entire set of 3 seats causing the couple next to me to put their reading down and look quizzically at each other.

Just as I mustered up the will to turn around and say something, the boy delivered a couple of well-aimed wallops to the small of my back. The thought of enduring the hour and half flight to Minneapolis, all the while being subjected to this assault was unthinkable.

I turned around, and having attracted the father's attention by waving my hand in front of his face and shouting "Excuse me", I said " Could you please see that your son doesn't kick my seat? It really is quite unpleasant".

"Can't do that, man" he said. Very matter of fact. No apologetic tone. Just a statement. Providing information.

My face must have registered the incredulity I felt. The dark thoughts that came to mind at the time all involved inflicting pain on both the child and the fatuous father.

Just short of becoming apoplectic, I could only muster a feeble "But...." when the father continued.

" He's got mild cerebral palsy, with autism as well. He doesn't listen very well, and doesn't have very good control over his limbs. So tends to kick his legs and throw his arms about, and there's nothing we can do. We can switch seats if you want and he can sit next to you, but he could shout and scream. He does that without warning as well"

" I'm not making this stuff up, man. These are problems you don't joke about" said the father without any trace of apology or irony.

I turned around wordlessly in my seat and devoted my attention my book, trying to zone out the periodic kicks and the occasional yelp emanating from the seat behind me. Bewildered and confused I hunkered down in my seat with a dark cloud hovering over my head.

As the flight came mercifully to its end at the gate in Minneapolis, the family gathered up their things and vanished into the terminal, with the boy playing and teasing his siblings, seeming to be at no perceptible disadvantage.

Was he really........? The thought remained unformed in my head as I watched the family traipse off together to begin their summer holiday.

Travel
Cars
Irony

Bokeh and the circle of confusion

Photographers spend an extraordinary amount of money and effort in trying to get pin-sharp images that are exactly in focus. They agonize about whether auto-focus lenses get fooled by various elements in the picture like bright colors (especially yellow) which cause the auto-focus mechanism to focus slightly behind the image, rendering the image slightly fuzzy. They buy ever more expensive lenses looking for that elusive sharpness in the image.

But there is a whole art form hidden in the part of the picture that is out of focus. You may have noticed that out-of-focus specular highlights (like sources of light or shiny objects) in images devolve into circles of confusion. The shape of the circle of confusion created by an out-of-focus object depends on many things - the number of blades in the lens iris (more blades equals a more rounded circle of confusion), the focal length of the lens (longer lenses create more smooth circles of confusion) and of course the quality of the glass itself.

Other than the rather long-winded and pedestrian term 'circle of confusion' we really don't have a good way to describe the quality of the out of focus part of the picture. The Japanese on the other hand have done a considerable amount of study into the quality of the out-of-focus part of the image and even have a term for it: they call it 'Bokeh'.

For the discerning photographer, there is now a range of lenses from each of the major manufacturers the gives you excellent bokeh. The kind of creamy soft out of focus images that are used in the new movies.

I find the aesthetic of bokeh fascinating, and I offer you this picture as an example of very good bokeh.

Addenda and Corrigenda

Peter Foster of the Daily Telegraph took me to task (in the nicest possible way) for my post Should Rumsfeld Resign?

Peter's point was, and I quote "It's only when senior soldiers, who have the credibility, speak out that we get some kind of perspective on the lunacy of the Iraq adventure. I think they're brave to break the rules. The very fact that they did so - which goes totally against the grain of military values and discipline - shows how strongly they feel." End quote.

I agree with Peter that it took courage, and it certainly is a chilling reminder that the country must heed. I feel that by compromising many years of military values and discipline, they may have created a crack in the dam. What lies before us? Serving military officers questioning their tasking orders, because they don't feel the cause is just?

Once that genie is out of the bottle, it would be impossible to recapture. That way, in my opinion, lies disaster. I have military men amongst my readers - both serving and retired. I would welcome your comments. Am I deluded?

Also, Dee, another reader chided me for deriding reality shows as lacking informational and entertainment value in my post Reality Bites.

She felt that reality shows do inform and entertain. I wanted to clarify that the type of reality shows that drew my ire were shows that pitted contestants against one another in ever-more degrading situations and brought out the worst traits in human nature. I thoroughly enjoy shows that deal with reality in informative circumstances. They are many - The National Geographic Channel, Animal Planet, Speed, The History Channel, Arts & Entertainment. Not even just the high-brow shows. I enjoy the cooking shows on the Food Network, even Monster Garage or Junkyard Wars on the Discovery Channel. Just not the asinine "Who's going to get voted off the island, now that Kirk and Alissa have formed an alliance?"

That just panders to voyeurism of the worst kind. Tell me I'm wrong if you think so.

Television
Daily Telegraph
Rumsfeld
Iraq

Leaping Tiger, Prancing Dragon

We had our dear friends J and T over for dinner last Saturday evening. J is a money man and manages the finances of some of the richest people in the US and T is the former CFO of a large ERP software company who quit to get on the mommy track. They have adopted 3 kids from Russia and T is pregnant with their fourth child.

At the start of the evening, J and I repaired to the chairs at the back of the garden perched at a height of about 1,000 feet above Boulder featured in the header of this blog, with a couple of pints of Fat Tire beer, to set the world to its rights.

After a contemplative sip from his glass, J asked me " If you were asked to invest $100 Million in emerging markets and your choice was either China or India, where would you put the money?"

"India" I said, without having to think too much. And here is why:

1. Property Rights: There is nothing that scares prospective investors in a country more than loose property rights - either physical or intellectual. India, as a result of 200 years of British rule has a strong background in property rights and with precedence of case law reaching back into the 1800s, and has had a long and illustrious history of legal jurisprudence rivalled only by the UK, and the US. Australia and Canada have had as long a legal history as India but being smaller, less populous countries, have fewer cases in case law to act as precedents. China on the other hand still has a very tenuous grasp of modern legal practice. From personal business experience I can confidently state that a contract in China is worth as much as the honor and honesty of the parties to the contract. There is no uniform code of justice that you might be able to appeal to, should you feel aggrieved. If you're not sure of the protections offered to your property in the country it's unlikely that you would invest in the country with confidence. The Chinese government of late seems to be making some changes to secure greater property rights, but much work remains to be done.

2. System of Government: Much has been said of the fact that India is a democracy - the largest in the world. With the rapid strides made in the standard of living of Indians as a result of the reforms started in the 1990s, a Government that tries to reverse the direction of reform will not be around for long. China on the other hand is unpredictable. They still seem to want to retain control over the information people have access to, and if the opening up of markets to foreign investment threatens the hold of the ruling mandarins on the country, control will win over openness.

3. Nature of industry: Much of the direct foreign investment into China and almost all of the country's exports are in the manufacturing sector. Fully 50% of India's GDP comes from the services sector and that's where the direct foreign investment is heading as well. Niall Ferguson, whom I admire hugely, argues in his excellent book Colossus: The Rise and Fall of the American Empire that no country can become a great power without manufacturing. I am not sure I buy that entirely. With global manufacturing, low value-add manufacturing will always gravitate to the lowest cost country. Today it is China. Tomorow it may be Nigeria or South Africa. Services, particularly high value-add services such as IT out-sourcing and financial back-office processing is harder to displace, requiring as it does experience and training.

Take the example of the Apple iPod. The 30GB version retails for $299. It is designed in California and manufactured in China. The cost of manufacture of the ubiquitous device is about $75 and being driven ever downward by the relentless pressure being exerted by Apple. Apple has reportedly sold 37 milllion of all versions of the iPod worldwide. Even allowing for a staggering marketing spend of $1.0 Billion since the launch of the first iPod, that comes to about $27 per iPod spent on marketing. So all up, you could say that the total direct cost of the device to Apple is about $100 a piece - with a nice 200% markup to get to the $299 retail price tag. Now, I ask you: Do you want to be the designer (Apple in this case) making $200 on each product designed and sold, or the manufacturer (the outsourced manufacturer in China) that makes at best, 15% or $11.25 on each item manufactured?

4. Language, education, culture and the aspirational factor: English has long been the primary medium of instruction at the tertiary level of education in India. Not so in China. Hollywood movies, American and English books and music have enjoyed popularity in India since before India attained independance from the British in 1947. This has created in the urban English-educated middle-class an aspirational force that is hard to contain. Aspiration, when accompanied by opportunity and application often leads to achievement.

Additionally, a young Indian graduate I suggest, will have less of a language and cultural barrier (perhaps none at all) interacting with and being trained by anyone from the West, than would a similarly educated Chinese.

All of this makes investment in India a culturally comfortable idea for Western money managers.

As foreign investment and technology transfer in the early stages of govern economic growth, so does an educated and motivated workforce unspoilt by the kind of socialist feather-bedding commonly seen in France, Holland and Germany, support sustained economic performance, in the later more advanced stage of economic development.

All of this of course is not to suggest that India is going to walk all over China. India is fractious and seemingly ungovernable. Corruption is rampant and visible even on a petty scale. The very democracy that enables India to be a truly intellectually free country, also hobbles its ability to move forward aggressively on massive infrastructural projects. Witness the agitation surrounding the Narmada Dam issue. Without debating the moral rights and wrongs of that issue, it can be confidently stated that a similar controversy in China would have had no air-time , and may perhaps never have reached the outside world.

The kind of property acquisition and appropriation that was undertaken in Beijing to prepare for the 2008 Olympics would be impossible in a pluralistic India where such measures would be considered high-handed and would cost the goverment dearly at the next election.

But with all this, when Americans see India, they see a country which has a number of political and social parallels to their own. But China, is a strange, befudding and somewhat exotically byzantine entity that is at once enticing and forbidding.

Where money is concerned, comfort wins over byzantine.

As the sun set behind the Rockies, we left our perch and moved indoors to start on a crisp Caymus Conundrum 1999 to accompany a chilled gazpacho soup.

"I'm glad you feel that way" said J as he savored the wine. "That's exactly what I did yesterday"
"What did you do?" I asked between mouthfuls of the gazpacho.
"Moved $100 million dollars into India"

Full disclosure: I was born in India, but do not hold Indian citizenship. I live in the United States and hold Canadian citizenship.

China
India
Economics
Finance

India's version of affirmative action

There is currently a major uproar in India about proposed legislation that would reserve 49.5% of the places in Universities and private colleges for applicants from specifically names castes in India's caste system. The proposed legislation does not take into account the economic circumstances of the applicant, merely his or her caste.

Detractors of the proposed legislation suggest that it is reverse discrimination - deserving students of "higher" castes will be denied places in favor of students of "lower" castes. Proponents of course, claim that this legislation will right the wrongs of centuries of oppression of the lower castes by the higher.

Skeptics suggest that the proposed legislation is a populist measure that plays to the large "lower caste vote bank" intending to get them energized to vote in the next election. Sounds awfully like the current debate in the US Congress on the constitutional amendment relating to gay marriage doesn't it?

For a lively debate on the topic I would direct you to the excellent blog by Peter Foster of the Daily Telegraph.

India
Constitution
Reservations

Who needs Superman when we've got Pat Robertson?

Yahoo News reports that Pat Robertson, the 76 year-old ultra right wing religious broadcaster claims to have leg pressed 2,000 lbs, when he was a slip of a lad of 73. Now, just so you understand how monumental a feat that is, I wanted to put that in perspective:

That is one ton, that Pat has reportedly leg-pressed. Or the weight of 10 guys who haven't been on a diet. Or almost the weight of a fully fuelled Mazda Miata. Or the payload of a Ford F250 truck.

Also, this happens to be 700lbs more than the current world record for the leg press, held by a football player. How does he do it? Robertson credits his Herculean strength to his age-defying shake, the recipe for which he offers on his website. The shake was also being sold by GNC, the health supplement and vitamin retailer.

I decided I had to have Pat's age-defying protein shake. If it could work these wonders for a 76 year old, I could not help conjuring up visions of what it could do for a much younger me. A quick trip to the local GNC store solved that problem.

GNC has pulled the product from its shelves and does not offer it any more. The girl behind the counter could not offer any reasons as to the withdrawal of the product.

Curses! My hopes of the world quivering at my feet foiled again!

I see the dark hand of the Justice League in this. They just didn't want mere mortals empowered by Pat Robertson's age defying protein shake developing super-human strength. Where would super-heroes like Superman, Batman and Green Lantern be, if everyone started to leap tall buildings in a single bound (after a quick slug of Pat's shake of course)? Not very super.

In other news, DC Comics has resurrected Batwoman - this time she's a lesbian socialite by day and crime fighting femme fatale by night. I am all for diversity in our super-heroes. Aren't you?

Pat Robertson
DC Comics
Superman
Batwoman
Pop Culture

Reality bites

Let's get one thing straight. In my view, television is meant to inform and entertain. It is meant to illuminate and elucidate. It may also scare and depress or inspire and ennoble, but at its core it is about taking you to another plane and allowing you to experience right in the comfort of your living room an otherwise unattainable experience.

Reality shows in my opinion do none of these things. Watching a group of people who are locked up in a house go about their dysfunctional lives (Big Brother) or contestants vying with one another to display the most venal of personal character traits to get one of their fellow contestants thrown off the show (Survivor) is neither informative nor entertaining.

Apart from the slightest bit of schadenfreude associated with watching people gorging on worms or hanging from a helicopter (Fear Factor), there is little illumination and less elucidation.

Reality shows have come to represent the death of intelligent story-telling on network television. If the only choice viewers have on network TV is a reality show about a pretend millionaire selecting from a bevy of beautiful (but essentially gold-digging) damsels, and a lame sit-com about a family of doctors (Out of Practice), there's no prize for guessing what prurient interests are going to gravitate towards.

But please, let's be clear I am not for a moment suggesting that anything relating related to reality is boring. The History Channel is awesome. So is SPEED (my personal favorite). And A&E, and The Food Network (but I hate Rachel Ray - doesn't she look like the Joker?), and Animal Planet. But if you don't have cable (even basic cable) you're doomed to watch re-runs of 'King of Queens' (which is actually pretty funny) and 'That 70s Show' on UPN or put up with CSI: Cedar Rapids, Iowa.

Whatever happened to great writing in the humor genre like 'Frasier' or 'Seinfeld' on network TV? Don't say it lives on in 'Curb your Enthusiasm'. I've had all I can take of a middle-aged Jewish guy going through his dysfuncional life. A group of young neurotic people I can take. An old bald guy who has the same sophomoric problems - not so much.

Now if only network TV had more shows like 'Without a Trace' or '24' I wouldn't need cable. But then what would I do without 'The Sopranos' or 'Big Love' or 'The Entourage' or 'Deadwood'? Not much. Come to it, when these shows are on I don't do much of anything else anyway.

The point of it is that all these shows call for writing. WRITING. Not getting getting a bunch of pathetic losers and dunking them in a tank of frogs. And I'm not referring to the French here. Though, come to think of it, that would make for fabulous televison.

Think about it: Cletus the slack-jawed yokel in a tank of Frenchmen. Now, I would pay to watch that.

TV
Reality
Shows
Television
Popular

And you thought you had it bad....

We all think we have the lock on the worst politicians and the most asinine party platforms in our respective countries. There would be considerable argument and heated debate if you were to ask a group of bloggers from different countries if they agreed with the positions taken by various political parties on the important issues in their countries.

Just when you thought you had the worst of the world to contend with, the Dutch (as is their wont) have gone one better (??). Reuters reports that a Dutch political party is forming to make pedophilia and bestiality legal and to represent its adherents in parliament.

I generally hold fairly liberal views, but when the matter involves those least able to represent themselves (i.e. children and animals) my views harden considerably. Thankfully 82 percent of the Dutch people felt that the government should do something to stop the formation of this party.

My question is, what about the other 18%? Did they think this was a good idea?

Under the general rubric of "you don't know how good you have it until.....", I promise to not complain ever again about the Democratic party accusing the Republicans of a culture of corruption, while the FBI finds wads of money wrapped in foil, hidden in Rep. William Jefferson's (D-LA) basement freezer.

William Jefferson
Corruption
Dutch
Politics

And so I decided to pimp my blog..

Regular readers of this blog (of which there are few, as Sitemeter depressingly informs me) will notice the fresh new look to the blog. Gone is the generic blogger-provided template and in its place is the new graphic header and color scheme.

The picture in the header is of my favorite chairs in our backyard on the hillside about 1000 feet above the city of Boulder. These chairs also form a sort of jungle-gym for the family of foxes that summers in our backyard each season. My recent post In appreciation of mothers everywhere about the foxes, features a picture of Flicka, one of the little fox kits, under one of the chairs.

The chairs are at about 6200 feet above sea-level and that's where I like to sit during the summer months and think big thoughts over a reassuring beer or two. It somehow seemed fitting that a blog about random thoughts should feature the chairs where much of such random thinking is done, at least when the weather allows.

While conceiving the graphic and the color scheme took some thinking, it was by no means the most difficult part of the exercise. Having found the picture I wanted to use, resizing it for use as a banner header was easy with Photoshop.

Editing the blogger template was another matter entirely. I first started by selecting a simple template and importing the HTML code it into an HTML editor - I used Nvu - so that I could make edits in a user-friendly WYSIWYG (What you see is what you get) mode. While I am familiar with HTML and its use in websites, I had never edited HTML code before and thought having an HTML editor like Nvu would be much easier than editing raw HTML in a text editor like Wordpad or Notepad. I had not bargained on the further complexity of working with style sheets which control the way everything is represented on the site, independant of the content.

After a weekend of struggling with Nvu, it became obvious that while I was able to make the changes I wanted within Nvu, getting those changes to reflect in the blog when seen through the browser was something else entirely. No matter what I tried, I couldn't get the tags to show the actual content of the site, and frustratingly, only the tags showed.

Eventually, out of despair, I painstakingly went through each line of HTML code in the template, made changes where I needed and arrived at the look that you see before you. I am reasonably pleased with the changes I have wrought, and I hope you will be too. Feel free to add a comment to let me know what you think about the new look.

The really interesting experiment will be to see if the new design has any effect on the vast readership I enjoy.

Blogger Template, Nvu, HTML editing, Custom Template, PhotoShop

Film vs. Digital...and Film won....almost

I have four nieces whom I adore. There is nothing in the world I would not do for any one of them. So when Niece #2 asked me if I would shoot pictures of her fiance and her, for the gifts table at their wedding I was naturally delighted and flattered.

Now, it should be noted that Niece #2 is very particular about how things should look, and had planned her wedding to the finest detail. I was therefore conscious of the exactitude that would be expected of my pictures.

We were in Toronto in January for the wedding. Arguably at least in that detail her planning had not been flawless - she could have chosen the Bahamas in January or Toronto in June, like her sister, but we digress.

We set off one cold morning to shoot the pictures and decided on the grounds of my son's old private boarding school as a suitable location. It offered plenty of old stone buildings, ivy covered walls, a beautiful chapel and wonderful wooded areas in which to shoot. Plus with school being out for the holidays we would not be bothered by anyone other than over-enthusiastic teachers anxious to prepare for the post-holiday term.

So as I posed and directed the young couple, I started with digital - my Nikon D70 with the excellent Sigma 70-210mm zoom. After a few shots, posing the couple in the lee of an evergreen with snow underfoot, I noticed that it was proving to be impossible to expose correctly for the shadows, the darker complexion of my niece; the snow and the lighter (the less politically correct would say 'white') complexion of her fiance. I either ended up blowing out the highlights on his face and the snow (not good at all) or getting deep shadows on her face (even worse). The dynamic range of the digital sensor just wasn't up to the challenge of this lighting situation.

So out came the trusty Nikon F5, loaded with Kodak Gold 400HD. After a brief pause to switch the lens from the digital body to the film body and another moment to slip on a warming filter, shooting resumed. I shot three rolls of film bracketing each shot with one stop under and one stop over the metered exposure for good measure. Going back to film, the thing I missed the most was being able to take a couple of test shots, study the histograms on the LCD, adjust exposure as appropriate and then blaze away until the scene or lighting changed.

So now with a productive morning's shooting in the bag, we dropped the film off for processing at a local mini-lab and repaired to the pub for a restorative pre-lunch drink. Picking up the processed film after lunch, the bride was suitably awed by the pictures and selecting the 'one' that would be used on the gifts table became the challenge.

She took the negatives and the 4x6 prints in their envelope and we left to show the rest of the family.

Later that evening the men (including the boys who could muster up the required fake ID) went off to host the groom at a bachelor party. Of course we all know that bachelor parties are like Vegas. What happens there stays there, even if the party in question was hosted by an uncle of the bride.

Before the festivities could turn really risque, the father of the bride rounded up the only young man under 21 and left the gala, pleading an early morning meeting. Whether this was to preserve plausible deniability or whether there really was an early morning meeting is unknown - and now unknowable.

When the partying contingent returned in the wee hours of the morning, we were greeted by a makeshift hand-lettered sign taped to the door that read "QUIET PLEASE. PEOPLE ARE SLEEPING". The sign made from a film envelope turned inside-out, and written in fastidious capitals was clearly the handiwork of the father of the bride.

The note struck the returning celebrants as somewhat churlish, and in their inebriation caused them to make more noise than they might have done otherwise. Amidst the muffled conversations and the shedding of shoes and coats in the hall, the note was forgotten.

The next morning, as the bride looked for the negatives to make prints, they were nowhere to be found. Whether they were lost when the sign was being made, or when the late night revelers got home, we shall never know. But lost they were. And lost they remain.

So, here's how film won over digital: The superior dynamic range of film over the digital sensor saved what could have been a day of less than pefect pictures. Since the ultimate output was going to be a print, the increased latitude of the print film over the digital sensor also helped to increase the percentage of acceptable pictures from the shoot.

And here's how film's victory over digital was pyrrhic: In the fact that film produced negatives which were left on a hall stand in an envelope, ready to be used for sign-making, probably caused them to be lost. Had I shot digitally, the memory card would have gone from the camera to a card reader and then straight back to the camera. Even if a CD bearing the images had been lost, I would still have the pictures on the memory card, since I hadn't had the time (or the need) to delete the pictures from the morning before we went out for our evening of revelry.

I don't quite know how to call this fight. But since the pictures are gone, I'd say we all lost.

Photography, Digital, Film, Dynamic Range

A cure for lens-envy?

Lens manufacturers spend billions of dollars in research to develop faster, sharper, more accurate lenses. The amount of money and time that goes into eliminating natural artifacts of bending light like chromatic aberration and distortion is absolutely mind-boggling.

With high refractive index glass making multi-element lenses extremely light, multi-coated lens surfaces eliminating the flightest bit of flare, ultra-sonic motors making auto-focus lenses exteremely quiet in operation, and vibration reduction technology rendering even long lenses stable enough to be hand-held in long exposures, the state of the art of lens design could be considered to have reached its zenith.

The arms race between lens manufacturers has ben escalating for some time now, with each trying to outdo the others with ever wider, faster, longer and sharper lenses - resulting in photographers coveting ever more exotic lenses at ever increasing prices.

Then along comes the Lensbaby. Turns the entire world of lens-snobbery on its ear. The lensbaby does not have multi-element lens groups. It has just two lenses. It does not have an auto-diaphragm. Heck it doesn't have a diaphragm at all. No iris. Just interchangeable aperture plates that you drop in behind the lens. So the aperture is adjustable, but only with a lot of effort. No multi-coating. No auto-focus. No focusing ring even. You adjust focus by pulling or pushing the slinky-like lens body either toward or away from the camera body.

Vibration reduction? Sure. Hold very still and stop breathing. Exposure control? Brush up on the Sunny 16 rule: No TTL metering is possible.

But the lensbaby has captured the hearts of photographers everywhere who are ordering the lens as fast as the company can make them. And the Lensbaby isn't cheap either. At $150 for the Lensbaby 2.0 (with the interchangeable aperture rings) it costs about the same as the Nikon 17-55mm zoom that comes packaged with the D70 and the D50.

The Lensbaby's use of chromatic aberration and flare, long the bane of every lens manufacturer, creates dreamy pictures that defy description. The ability to tilt and shift the lens barrel allows the user to move the sweet spot of focus around the frame to emphasise certain parts of the scene and not others.

The Lensbaby plays the meat-cleaver to the surgical laser of the modern CPU equipped auto-everything hypersonic lens. A curious mate to your $5,000 16MP DSLR! But it's flying off the shelves at a fantastic clip.

Its detractors claim that the same bendy effect caused by the Lightbaby can be re-created by PhotoShop in post-processing. But there's something elemental about the combination of relatively ordinary glass, intentional distortion caused by the tilt and shift of the lens and the flare caused by uncoated lens surfaces that it is extremely hard to intentionally set out create the same effect.

So am I saying all the billions of dollars poured into lens design is wasted, when a cheap lens with a bendy body would do? No. Hell no.

But it just goes to show, as in all things that cause envy, that the biggest, fastest, widest, longest or most expensive is not necessarily the best. That you can create wonderful pictures, achieve magnificent things without expensive equipment.

And so I offer you this Lensbaby picture for your delectation.

In appreciation of mothers everywhere

Just in time for Mothers' Day, I had the opportunity to witness who I think is perhaps the World's Most Dedicated Mother in her element.

Her dwelling is small and she has five boisterous children. Her day is spent working, but when she gets home she shares the meagre food she has earned during the day betweeen the kids and sometimes goes to bed hungry because there isn't enough for her. The kids are growing well and as each day passes, are becoming more independant. The mother of course continues to provide for the kids, expecting nothing by way of thanks. Her golden brown hair highlighted by the setting sun she gazes adoringly at her charges as they finish their evening meal.

I am referring to the brown fox that lives in our backyard and has just had a litter of five kits (which I believe is what fox cubs are called). As the kits play and explore the world around them we have come to know them and their idiosyncracies. They are Freddie, Flicka, Fidel, Frankie and Fiona.

Fearless Freddie is the black one with a little white patch on his back and a white tip to his tail. He derives great pleasure from taunting our Golden Retrievers from the other side of the patio door, secure in the knowledge that he is safe from the seething, foaming, 110 pounds of frustration that is Harley. He is wise to the ways of modern double-paned tempered glass, and knows that however hard Harley may throw himself at the door, all that is going to result is a wet print of a squashed snout on the inside of the glass. So he continues to stare in curious amusement at Harley.

Flicka is like her mother. Slight of build but with a rich russet gold pelt, she seems to prefer a quieter time. Not for Flicka the hurly burly of a chase down the mountain-side. She would rather curl up under the garden chair and watch the world go by with contemplative eyes.

All Foxie - the mother - needs to do, is to tilt her head and let out a high pitched call and they are all off - to gather around Mom to see what special treat she might have in store today. Like all mothers everywhere, Foxie's treat is nothing less than a mother's undying devotion to her children.

Happy Mothers Day Foxie.


Mothers Day
Foxes
Moms
Mums
Mothers Devotion

Of irrepressible spirit and immoderate vanity

First, the New York Times reports that work on the Freedom Tower, the building that is to rise to a height of 1776 feet where the twin World Trade Center towers stood before Sept 11, 2001, is continuing apace, some 65 feet below the surface. Construction began quietly some time ago and is expected to be completed in 2011.

The project, bedevilled by political wrangling and financial posturing, nonetheless is an excellent example of the indomitable spirit of the American people. I can think of no more moving and inspiring symbol of a nation giving a collective middle finger to the ranks of terrorists, than to build a bigger, bolder, stronger and more spectacular edifice to replace the one they tore down.

On the other end of the scale, going from the sublime to the ridiculous, or perhaps merely the ridiculously vain, the London Daily Telegraph reports that Mark Oaten, a married man with two children, and a British Liberal Democrat Member of Parliament confessed that he had an affair with a male prostitute, (a rent boy as the English so colorfully term it) because he was going bald.

Am I the only one who thinks that Mr. Oaten's reasoning is a little specious? When a man discovers he is going bald, membership to the Hair Club for Men and comb-overs probably occur to him as possible cures well before a homosexual fling.

Being gloriously bald myself, I can confess quite candidly that taking up with a 'rent boy' didn't cross my mind once.

And now, as the Monty Python crew used to say, for something completely different: Stephen Colbert is the toast of every Democratic get-together and the scourge of every Republican banquet, for his performance at the Annual White House Correspondent's dinner. He lampooned the President, but flubbed a joke of his own. If you're the only person in the free world who hasn't seen the video, check it out here.

The whole evening was covered by C-Span, that pre-eminent cure for insomnia, but realizing they had some hot material on their hands they have since allowed a number of sites to carry the video. I am prediciting a significant increase in C-Span viewership at least for a while.
[Colbert]
[Mark Oaten]
[Lib Dem]
[Freedom Tower]

Purity of purpose in Tequila

With Cinco de Mayo almost upon us, the Science Blog brings us great news. They report that German and Mexican scientists are identifying the chemical characteristics of pure Tequila and thereby helping to distinguish the pure and genuine article from adulterated versions that are entering the billion dollar a year Tequila market.

Read all about it here.