Hello, I’m Veronica
The sky is not completely dark at night. Were the sky absolutely dark, one would not be able to see the silhouette of an object against the sky.
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Hack Attack
Imagine a plain brown box showing up at your front door with no indication of who or where it came from. The box is topped by a small white envelope with a card inside. In elegant script the card reads: Scan the QR code to see who sent you this gift! So you scan it. Congratulations – you’ve just given scammers access to everything on your smartphone.
I wish this story was a work of fiction but some day soon it could be coming to a doorstep near you. The gift box scam worked on my son’s friend and frankly I can’t say that it wouldn’t have worked on me. If someone sent you a gift and they wanted it to be a surprise, would the situation look much different than what I just described? Would you scan the QR code?
Do not scan! I can’t explain how the simple scan of a QR code translates to the hack of a smartphone, but technology far outpaces my understanding of its capabilities these days. My first reaction to this story was to check my phone apps to make sure any “data-sensitive” ones were password-protected. My next reaction was to wonder if I could ever trust a QR code again.
Here’s a second bit on hacking, also passed along by my son. He said scammers now prey on public parking lots. Many of these lots use pay-by-app technology and the app can be downloaded onsite by scanning a QR code. Scammers simply place their own sticker over the one you’re supposed to scan and presto! – you’ve unknowingly given some level of data access to thieves. It reminds me of gas station scams where the pump credit card reader is retrofitted with a device capable of collecting your card’s data.
By comparison email and text scams now seem pedestrian, but boy-howdy they keep trying don’t they? I got one just last week claiming I have a “USPS parcel being cleared, but the parcel is temporarily detained due to an invalid zip code”… and I’m supposed to click on a link so I can correct the zip code. These phishing messages are so common they’ve become easy to spot, whether from the broken English or from the bizarre originating email address. Phishing reminds me of those long-ago Nigerian princes who sought our help in exchange for “large sums of money”.At least I’m not a head-over-heels fan of Brad Pitt. Last month two women were scammed out of hundreds of thousands of dollars by five people in Spain, posing collectively as the actor in an online conversation. The fraudsters were arrested, but you have to wonder about the naivety of people these days. Do you really believe Brad Pitt would contact you to invest in one or two of his projects? More importantly, would you invest this kind of money with anyone without meeting them in person first?
All of this hack-yacking brings to mind the 1970s counterculture bestseller Steal This Book. From the title you’d expect to read about tricks of the hacking trade but it was a different topic entirely. Steal This Book gave step-by-step instructions on how the average American could get free services and products courtesy of the federal government’s welfare programs. The book was intended as a sort of protest against the powers-that-be, written by a well-known activist of the time.[Side note: Steal This Book also explained how to create (underground) radio broadcasting and printing presses, start (non-violent) demonstrations, and make bombs with household materials. You can still buy the book but I’m guessing the section on bombs has been removed. And don’t ask me how many copies of the book were actually stolen.]
Not a good investment The FBI’s website lists eighteen categories of common frauds and scams. The examples I shared above fall under just one of these categories: “skimming”. Some of the other categories are even more disheartening, like “holiday”, “elder”, or “romance”. Collectively it’s a sad statement about the world we have to deal with. So be skeptical, I tell you. That unexpected gift at your front door is probably not a gift at all. That QR code may create a connection you don’t want. And “Brad Pitt”? He has no interest in doing business with you. He only wants your money.
Some content sourced from Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.
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Dental Essential
When I filled a prescription at my supermarket’s pharmacy recently, the line of customers snaked down an aisle of toiletries. I surfed on my phone for a few minutes as I waited but eventually took note of the products on display around me. To the right, endless shampoos, conditioners, sprays, and other hair care items. To the left, nothing but rows and rows of toothpaste.
If you’re a Millennial or older, I’ll bet you’ve brushed a time or two with Crest or Colgate. Both products have dominated the toothpaste market since their humble beginnings in the 1950s. I was raised on Crest and saw no reason to change brands as a young adult. But these days, like most anything I put into my mouth I’m a little more selective.
The shelves of toothpaste in my supermarket caught my attention for two reasons. First, the options from a single manufacturer these days are daunting. Crest may have only eight product lines (like “Gum Health” or “Kids”) but that translates to a total of fifty-seven unique tubes of paste. Wow. So you’re telling me you’d know which one would be perfect for you?My second observation: there are surprisingly few players in the game for a product each of us uses at least twice a day. Crest and Colgate dominate the shelf space; I’d put the number at 85%. The other 15% – at least in my supermarket – goes to products from Sensodyne and Arm & Hammer. Sensodyne targets those of you with sensitive teeth. Arm & Hammer promotes, naturally, the perceived benefits of baking soda.
The truth is, there are dozens of toothpastes besides Crest and Colgate. Just think of it like a chessboard: you have the two kings and then you have the rest of the pieces. Those pieces include a few that make me nostalgic. For a short time I had a “brush” with Pepsodent; its unique taste flavored with sassafras. My dentist’s recommendations during my cavity-prone years included Mentadent and Aim (neither of which took hold). And honorable mention goes to Pearl Drops, which I never tried but was the first product to add sex appeal to brushing your teeth.
I don’t know anyone who uses Pepsodent or Pearl Drops anymore, but I also think Crest and Colgate are finally getting serious challengers. Today’s generation (and those behind it) is more enlightened. In fact, my own choice for my toothbrush – Earthpaste – has to be purchased at a specialty store or online.
I’ve talked about Earthpaste before, in Polishing the Pearls. That post was more about the ingredients in toothpaste than the products themselves. But ingredients certainly matter. Crest contains between fifteen and twenty (and some are better left in a science lab). Earthpaste contains just five, including bentonite clay, salt, and essential oils. I have no problem putting any of those in my mouth, including the “dirt” of bentonite clay.The truth is, if you can stand the bitter taste you can just brush with baking soda. It’s a short list of ingredient that actually benefit your dental hygiene. And for me, the habits I’ve locked in besides brushing far outweigh the importance of which toothpaste I choose. Daily flossing (at night). Oral rinses. Toothpicks for my close-together teeth. Recent trips to the dentist would suggest I’ve got a good regimen going.
As for you Gen X, Y, Z and especially Alpha members, there’s a palpable point to this post. 99% of humans will continue to brush with toothpaste. Crest and Colgate still dominate the market seventy-odd years after their debuts (at least in America). It seems to me there’s room for another low-ingredient high-health product like Earthpaste. I’d fire up that home chemistry lab before someone else beats you to it. There’s potential prodigious profit in the production of paste!Some content sourced from Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.
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It’s (Not) Just a House
Let’s agree to disagree today (one of my favorite catchphrases). You see things one way while I see them another. Perspective, angle, viewpoint – choose your word – we all come to our conclusions on different roads. Which is ironic, because four of us came to Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater on the same road three weeks ago.
I blogged about Fallingwater in Perfect Harmony a couple of years ago. The post was meant to be a primer on what makes the house an iconic work of American architecture. At the time I was also building LEGO’s version, which is as close as I thought I’d ever get to the real thing. Today I can say I’ve checked an up close and personal visit off my bucket list.
Fair warning: there’s no convenient route to travel to Fallingwater, which shouldn’t surprise you about a house hidden in the forest. You’ll drive ninety minutes southeast of Pittsburgh on two-lane roads, some in desperate need of repair. And watch carefully for the driveway entry; it kind of pops up out of nowhere.
You won’t get to see Fallingwater without booking a reservation beforehand. Despite my dismay in last week’s post about required reservations in Rome they make a ton of sense with Fallingwater. It’s a small house after all, so it’d be overwhelming if visitors just showed up and walked in. We took the final tour on a Saturday and our guide said 600 others had already been through the house earlier in the day.
Fallingwater’s Visitors Center Thanks to the resources of the Frank Lloyd Wright Conservancy (which is still buying up property around Fallingwater), the experience begins before you ever see the house itself. The driveway wanders past a guard house to a modest parking lot. From there you walk to a beautiful Visitors Center nestled in the trees. A central outdoor seating area is surrounded by a small museum of Wright’s work, a cafe, and a gift shop that offers much more than shirts and postcards. Frankly, the Visitors Center is a nice little work of architecture all by itself.
The walk to the house begins down a kind of woodsy nature trail, so you can see the rocks, trees, and other materials used to construct Fallingwater in their native forms. What impressed me most about the tour is how you never see the house until you’re practically at its front door, making for a dramatic reveal. Your walk descends through the canyon of Bear Run (the river over which Fallingwater is perched) until the house’s signature cantilevered forms emerge from the dense forest.
As I described it in Perfect Harmony, Fallingwater looks like it was “constructed entirely offsite and dropped gently within the forest by pushing aside a few tree branches”. After seeing the house in person, I wouldn’t change a word of that statement. The design is a marvel, not only in how the indoor/outdoor spaces integrate with their natural surroundings, but also in how it was built as if floating over the waterfall below.Enough with the fawning over Fallingwater, am I right? After the four of us took the tour we had a chance to process what we’d seen, and my wife’s and brother’s reactions were clear: it’s just a house. It’s not even a nice house, with its low ceilings, dark spaces, and anything-but-cozy use of rock, concrete, and glass. Fallingwater is hard to get to, and it’s in the middle of nowhere. And with its hundredth birthday not far off, everything about the house has a decidedly dated feel.
I did my best to explain why I love Fallingwater. My sister-in-law, who appreciates everything about the arts, understood the significance of the house. She “got” what Frank Lloyd Wright was conveying in the design, and allowed the sacrifice of comfortable living for the sake of the indoor-outdoor interplay. She probably took in the house the way she would a painting at the Louvre. My wife and my brother, not so much. For them the ninety minute tour was probably sixty minutes too long.Fallingwater promotes the thought: “one person’s junk is another’s treasure”. My treasure is architecture (so much so I studied it in college). Yours is probably something entirely different. It fascinates me how my brother spent years and years of research, consulting, and money to restore a 1960s vintage Ferrari in his back garage. To me, cars get you from Point A to Point B; a mere convenience. My brother could spend hours explaining why his Ferrari goes worlds beyond that statement.
Still lingering on my bucket list is a visit to Paris, where among the city’s many wonders stands the Eiffel Tower. I want to see this engineering/architectural masterpiece from far and near, and of course, ascend it’s many levels to fully experience the structure itself. For now however, I’ll have to settle for building LEGO’s version. As with Fallingwater, we can all agree to disagree. The Eiffel is (not) just a tower.Some content sourced from Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.
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Too Many Roads Lead to Rome
I’ve wanted to take my wife to Italy pretty much since the day we met. After a memorable college year in Rome in the 1980s I knew I’d go back one day, especially since I tossed a few coins into the famous Trevi Fountain before I left. Today however, I sit wondering if I really will set foot in the Eternal City again. Thanks to overwhelming numbers of tourists, Rome might as well put a “sold out” sign on its city gates. Blame it on the Catholics?
Trevi Fountain, Rome 2025, less than four months from now, is a Jubilee Year for the Catholic Church. Maybe your idea of a jubilee is a celebration, much like Britain’s in 2022 when they honored Queen Elizabeth’s unprecedented seventy years of service to the Crown. Not so the Catholics. They define a jubilee – every 25 or 50 years – as a “marked opportunity for the remission of sins, debts, and of universal pardon”.
Catholic jubilees traditionally include a pilgrimage to Rome. I’d love to know who runs the calculations (and how) but the forecast for next year in Rome has Catholic pilgrims at around 32 million… in addition to the 50 million tourists who normally pass through. To put that total in perspective, the population of Rome is only 3 million. That’s a whole lot of extra pepperoni on the pizza (or piazza, if you will).[Side note: 1983, the year I lived in Rome, was an out-of-cycle Catholic jubilee known as the Holy Year of the Redemption. Do I remember millions of Catholics “roaming” through the city streets? I do not. Then again I’m a Methodist, so maybe I have an excuse for missing the obvious…]
You call this a crowd? Just wait ’til 2025. Thanks to next year’s jubilee, officials are clamping down on a visitor’s ability to see or tour the city’s most famous attractions. The Fontana di Trevi is a good example of how things will change. In the 1980s I could stand in front of the Baroque fountain to my heart’s content. In 2025 I will need a ticket through a reservation system. That ticket gets me entry through one side of the piazza and exit through the other, at a specific time and for a specific (amount of) time. Hired “stewards and hostesses” make sure I don’t linger, and collect a 2-euro fee for the experience.
If I really wanted to be herded like sheep I’d join a flock on the green, green grass of Ireland, instead of paying for the privilege in Rome. And speaking of paying, the Trevi already collects over $1.5M in coins voluntary thrown into its waters (the money then donated to local charities). Add in the new 2-euro fee, and even if just 10% of next year’s visitors make it to the Trevi, Rome will nab an additional $18M. Jubilee indeed.
St. Peter’s Square, Rome If I sound jaded about Rome’s forced hand, it’s only because I have the perspective of a time when everything seemed so much easier. In the 1980s I could wander through St. Peter’s Square without photo-bombing dozens of iPhones. I could also wander without encountering a random protest about a religious war or climate change. I still remember plunking down on the cobblestones of that grand piazza to paint a watercolor of the Basilica, and nobody bothered me. I also remember Frisbee with a fellow student in another piazza, while the local Italians watched the spinning disc in wonder. Innocent times indeed.
Roman Forum In 2024, a guided tour of the Vatican (the only way to see it) – including the sublime Sistine Chapel – will set you back $50. A tour of the Colosseum and Roman Forum will cost you twice that much. I’m sure next year’s pilgrims will pay these fees without blinking a sin-forgiven eye. I just can’t get past my free-and-easy days as an architecture student, when each of the city’s wonders was as wide open and come-on-in accessible as you can imagine.
The truth is I’d go back to Rome in a heartbeat, even if I knew untold millions of pilgrims would be standing alongside me. The Eternal City is worth the look even if you never step inside any of its buildings. On the other hand, if I’m patient and wait until 2032, it’ll be the 50th anniversary of my college year. That calls for a jubilee! I’ll be the only pilgrim of course (er, two of us counting my wife) but at least we’ll have no hassles dropping coins into the Trevi.Some content sourced from the Skift Newsletter article, “Rome Tourism Chief Says There’s ‘Total Chaos’ at Trevi Fountain…”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.
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For Whom the Road Tolls
Because we raised our kids in Colorado, vacations to visit our extended families were often by airplane, since my relatives were in California and my wife’s were in Florida. It was the rare trip where we could see any of them by taking the car. So when my wife and I drove from South Carolina to Pennsylvania recently to visit my brother and his wife, we were reminded of what makes travel by car different than by plane. Toll roads, for instance.
Take your pick of payment I have memories of toll roads my kids will never have. They’re old enough to remember passing through the booths and handing coins or bills to the collector. But they won’t remember the unmanned alternative, which was to toss exact change into a big plastic basket, listen to the coins process through the mechanics below, and hope/pray the gate to the toll road would raise. That automated approach seems almost quaint compared to today’s electronic alternatives.
I say alternatives (plural) because yes, that’s what we have with today’s toll roads. It confounds me. Why in heaven’s name haven’t we developed a painless, seamless, and most importantly, nationally coordinated approach to toll road payments? To some extent (nineteen states) we have a solution – E-ZPass, which by subscription and sticker allows convenient passage. But even E-ZPass is not a perfect system.
Not so E-Z For the rest of the country’s tolls – and for most of our round-trip drive between South Carolina and Pennsylvania – we have the clunky alternative. You pass through a now-unmanned (“un-personned?”) toll booth, where a camera grabs your license plate with a noticeable flash. Then, somewhere down the road (ha) a paper bill arrives in your mailbox. By my count I have four or five of these bills coming my way. It’s been ten days since we’ve returned home and I have yet to receive even one.
The cookie recipe is still on the back of the package [Trivia detour: Nestlé’s famous Toll House chocolate chip cookies aren’t named after toll booths but rather for an inn in Massachusetts where baker Ruth Wakefield came up with the recipe. Wakefield and Nestlé struck a deal in the 1940s: her recipe printed on their bags in exchange for a lifetime supply of chocolate. How very “Willy Wonka”, eh?]
Here is my unequivocally efficient approach to paying tolls across our many-highway’d nation. When you first get a driver’s license, you also sign up for a bank account-linked program which allows seamless paying of ALL tolls across the land – roads, bridges, tunnels, whatever – through a single readable sticker on your windshield. If you somehow don’t pay the tolls because of say, “insufficient funds”? Well sorry, your driver’s license doesn’t get renewed until you settle up at the DMV.
A $3 toll gets you through Baltimore’s Harbor Tunnel My system is so logical it’s probably the reason I’ve never been pegged for a government job. In Colorado and elsewhere they almost have it right with the E-ZPass system – a sticker linked to a bank account. The problem is, they hold a minimum balance in a middleman (middle person?) account to guarantee payment of tolls. I object, your honor. Why should Colorado have forty-odd dollars of my hard-earned money at all times when they can just settle up unpaid tolls whenever I renew my license?
Warning: cash-cow crossing Then again, I have a beef with the tolls themselves, and that is, they pay for far more than the maintenance of the roads. You can’t tell me $10 per vehicle per crossing of the Golden Gate Bridge (GGB) is needed just to maintain the bridge. Here’s the jaw-dropping math for you. 112,000 cars cross the GGB every day. That’s over forty million cars per year. That puts the annual toll-taking at over four hundred million dollars. $400M for bridge maintenance? Sorry, fair traveler, you’re voluntarily lining the coffers of California (and San Francisco) every time you cross. “If I’m elected” (as we’ll hear countless times in the next two months), I’ll limit toll-taking to whatever it costs to maintain the bridge, road, or tunnel. Not a dollar more.
On our return trip from Pennsylvania, I was amused to pass through one toll both with an actual human toll-taker. Those cordial people are still out there, collecting cash one car at a time. The woman in our instance happily returned us $19.25 on a $20.00 bill (and who’s happy to do that anymore?).
Time to bake cookies! I was also amused… no, “gratified” is the better word; to pull into the parking lot of a South Carolina “rest area” shortly before we got home, for the use of a perfectly safe, clean, toll-free restroom on a toll-free highway. Maybe rest areas and their restrooms are the reason tolls cost more than the maintenance of the roads? Probably not. That would equate to a logical explanation for a government expenditure, which is an oxymoron.
Some content sourced from Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.
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The sky is not completely dark at night. Were the sky absolutely dark, one would not be able to see the silhouette of an object against the sky.
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