What would happen if we could program people? Answer: cf. awesome quote from 'Dollhouse'

If you're not familiar with Dollhouse, the new show by Joss Whedon, you should be. Why? For one thing, it was created by Joss Whedon.

What's more, recent reports say that Summer Glau, the rear-kickin' semi-psycho chick from Firefly, is going to be in the new season this fall. Need we say more?

The show -- which is about "an organization that employs mind-wiped DNA-altered humans known as Dolls who are implanted with false memories and skills for various missions and tasks" (source: IMDB) -- is, in my opinion, rich in character development, thought-provoking dialogue, and compelling science fiction concepts that advance the genre and warrant a closer look.

For example, in one of the episodes, reporters go around the city interviewing various civilians about the rumor of the 'Dollhouse.' The question they are asking is, "What if we could program people?" One of the interviewees is a professor who gives a powerful answer.

"Forget morality, imagine it's true, alright? Imagine this technology being used. Now imagine it being used on you. Everything you believe... gone. Everyone you love - strangers, maybe enemies. Every part of you that makes you more than a walking cluster of neurons... dissolved - at someone else's whim. If that techology exists, it'll be used, it'll be abused, it'll be global. And we will be over. As a species, we will cease to matter. I don't know, maybe we should."

Now, let me say emphatically that I don't share the professor's wry, cynical attitude revealed in the last line. It's the stuff leading up to it that brought down a storm of reflective feelings on me. In just a few words, the professor captures the central question of human significance. The more our culture is inundated with information about technology and scientific progress, the more I believe this question is worth not just examining, but forming opinions about.

Why I Liked Ponyo

A couple weeks ago I saw Hiyao Miyazaki's newest animated film, Ponyo, and in the days afterward I could hardly stop thinking about it. In fact, the story lingered so long and so vividly in my mind that I decided to try articulating why I enjoyed it so much. I came to rest on three basic reasons.

WARNING: I give away some key scenes in my analysis, so proceed at your own risk. If you're like most of my friends, you'll want to see it without my personal ramblings influencing your preconceptions or reducing the shock value of events.

Reason #1. It was an honest story that accomplished in fewer words what most Disney and anime films take more time and dialog to communicate.

A big theme in the film is about growing up and facing things that are bigger, much bigger, than we are. Of course, a message like that can get very old, very fast. Numerous movies have done it (Pan's Labyrinth, to name a recent example). But instead of communicating it through character dialogue, the internal thoughts of flawless moral characters, or the commentary of an omniscient narrator, the film illustrates it with rich imagery and candid narrative. One obvious example is how the tempestuous elements of nature -- towering waves of the sea, violent winds that bend trees like rubber, etc. -- are depicted in contrast with a quaint coastal human settlement whose boats, buildings, and inhabitants seem utterly feeble by comparison. That, to me, is the kind of contrast which reminds us to recognize how small and insignificant we are in the grand scheme of things. And the film shows it rather than saying it.

Yet perhaps even more compelling are the parts where the two protagonists, Ponyo and Sosuke, overcome barriers that five-year-olds don't usually have to face. At one point, Sosuke climbs out of the boat he is steering because it runs out of fuel, and he pushes it through a lake of water that had resulted from a flood. At another point he leads Ponyo through a gaping, portentous dark tunnel. At yet another point, in the middle of a violent storm, Sosuke's Mom returns to the nursing clinic where she works, leaving Sosuke behind to be the man of the house (his father is out at sea).

What's refreshing is that the characters aren't lauded excessively by the story itself. Unlike a number of hyped-up action films (Transformers comes to mind), there isn't some emotional symphony that chimes in and tells you how to feel, or an endless chain of events that elevates the protagonist's heroic feats of courage. Rather, the story unfolds in a relatively unpretentious, charming manner that might otherwise have been predictable and condescending.

2. It brought the characters to life through its portrayal of even the most subtle mannerisms of five-year old kids.

Perhaps my favorite example is when Sosuke carries a water pale containing Ponyo (who is a gold fish at this point) to school and hides it in the bushes. He carefully steps through a torn opening in a chain link fence, pushes the pale under a clump of shrubbery, and then, fearing there might be cats nearby, covers it with a broad leaf -- as if the leaf would be a formidable defense. But it's not just the child-like mentality that's captured so well. The very gestures and postures of the children are recognizable. Kids hold their tea mugs as if they're cupping precious handfuls of delicate porcelain, stand with their hands behind their back when they're feeling shy, laugh spontaneously at phenomenon that adults have accepted as reality, look in awe and wonder into the ingenuous eyes of babies, and lean forward in a certain cautious yet curious manner when peering into the water. All these depictions come together to form an incredibly convincing portrayal of guileless, juvenile behavior.

3. Its imaginative universe contains fantastical elements that are, in my opinion, lots of fun to watch because, well, we sort of experience them every day (or night, I should say?).

Waves turn into fish and back into waves. Prehistoric-looking sea monsters, which look like hybrids of wales and dinosaurs, glide through the murky depths of the ocean as if they accidentally dropped out of their alternate reality and into ours. Ponyo transforms from a half-fish to a full human, passing first through some creepy chicken-like phase in between. Then she's back to a fish. Then back to a human again. Fujimoto, Ponyo's wiry long-haired and bleary-eyed magician father, lives in an eccentric underwater dwelling that reminded me of Merlin's tower from Sword in the Stone. As one critic put it, "The point is that nothing in Miyazaki's universe ever stops transforming: In trees and stones and ripples on the waves, there seem to be spirits tucked away, ready to turn what you think you see — the visible world — into something else entirely."

Weird stuff, right? And yet, speaking for myself, these fantastical components encapsulate a type of surrealism that I'm subconciously familiar with. How? Through dreams. Now, this doesn't mean I've dreamed about fish becoming human (at least, not before I saw Ponyo), but I still dream about things as bizarre as a Salvador Dali painting. "What the heck was that?" I ask when I wake up. This doesn't just happen once or twice a month; it happens to me a lot. And I know I'm not the only one. An intrinsic a part of life contains the surreal, so it was cool to see a movie that thrived on weaving it so seamlessly and persuasively into its sequence of events.

In the end, I've concluded that you can't really call Ponyo "anime" without being misleading. The movie doesn't conform to the conventions of anime (in my experience, anyways) that the average America is exposed to through popular shows such as Pokemon, Dragon Ball Z, Yu-gi-oh!, or Naruto. Despite its fantastical composition, not to mention the fact that it's entirely 2-D animation, it is at the same time deeply human. Yeah, it's a significant departure from Miyazaki's other more adult themes, and yeah, it's a kid's movie that a five-year-old could comprehend. If you're in your late teens or early or mid-twenties, don't expect an epic packed with thrilling quests. But don't expect a boring, peurile narrative either. Miyazaki struck an artful balance of genuine emotion, adventure, lighthearted humor, and meaningful character development to warrant the watch.

I'm sure, though, that other people who saw the film may have thought or felt differently about it, or had different impressions. I'd love to hear your thoughts, if you have any you're willing to share.

Useless--and somewhat dangerous--construction warning signs

New pet peeve: when "Construction Work Ahead" signs are placed right in front of the actual construction zone, giving little to no advance warning.



This happened while I was exiting the highway this morning. I tried to merge onto a local road, and before I knew it, a "Construction Work Ahead" sign blocked my way. Right behind it were the trucks and workers.

The story of Company Awesome

[Lately I've been brainstorming about how and why a certain government agency should pay money in exchange for the IT services that the company I work for provides. After a couple weeks of research, extensive editing, heated debates with co-workers, late nights, and so on, I think I finally figured out that it's best told as a semi-humorous story with four characters: a scientist, a government agency, a panel, and Company Awesome.]

Scientist: Dear Uncle Sam: I've got a great research idea. I'm pretty sure I can improve our understanding of how cancer works. But I'm in a bit of a bind. I've got no money, and I need some new resources. I could use some microscopes, laboratory equipment, access to some animal specimens... that sort of thing. Can you help me out?

Government agency: Stop calling us Uncle Sam. It's too patronizing.

Scientist: Oh. Sorry. I didn't mean--

Government agency: Kidding, kidding! Gets 'em every time. Of course we'll help you. Naturally, you understand you can't just waltz in and expect us to give you the mullah. Here, fill out this application. We'll look it over and decide whether it's worth the investment.

Scientist: Okay. Done. Now what?

Government agency: Send it to us electronically, and we'll convene a panel to review it.

Scientist: Cool beans. There. Just sent it. Stay in touch, okay? Later!

Government agency: Hasta luego! Okay, panel. What do you think? Should we give her the dough?

Panel: Hmm. Not so sure. This is a pretty sophisticated grant, and she's asking for a lot of money. We need some time to review it.

Government agency: Ooo. Problem. We've received a few thousand other grants, and we need to review them in a very unreasonable period of time. Is there any way you could speed things along?

Panel: Why, certainly! Anything for you. Maybe we could also pour you some tea? Give you a foot massage? Riiiiight. Listen pal, we can't just go lightning speed because you and Mr. President decided to spend billions on research. We've gotta go through a few cycles, collect comments, resolve conflicting opinions, make sure the human subjects are well protected. Tax payer dollars are at stake here, and lives too. It's not very smart to just breeze through this sucker, now is it? We'll keep you updated on our status through the grants management web site.

Government agency: Ahhhh, raspberries. Alright, then. So we'll see your results tomorrow?

Panel: Very funny. How about a month? Keep it real, homey.

Government agency: You... too, I guess? Don't get too hung up on those scientific hypotheses.

[some days later]

Government agency: Good grief. I wish our website had some better features for displaying the status of all our grant applications under review. If only we had a dashboard view of things, including a map or something that displays geographically all the scientists who've requested money. And I'd die for a status bar showing where their application is in the pipeline. Then I could click a button and generate a report for the director without having to create my own spreadsheet. And it's pretty annoying that every one of our divisions and offices maintains and processes their grants differently. Can't we all just get along and use one standard series of steps? Like, one seamless workflow that everyone follows? Not to whine or anything, but woe is we. Maybe one day a daring IT contractor will come along and do that for us.

Company Awesome: Now is the time to save the day! A contractor's gotta do what a contractor's gotta do.

Government agency: Who in the name of Carl Sagan are you? And how did you get past security?

Company Awesome: Don't worry about it. We develop software applications and web-based biomedical grants management systems for clinical researchers and administrative agencies. And we do it faster, cheaper, and better than everyone else.

Government agency: Oh, brilliant opening. Pompous and overconfident. Stop wasting my time and get out of our office.

Company Awesome: Okay. Cool. We'll leave. By the way, if we were you, we wouldn't keep developing our applications in total isolation from one another and ultimately causing ourselves steeper maintenance costs, data redundancy, and pointless duplication of manual labor down the line.

Government agency: *sigh* You talk the talk, I'll give you that. Alright, we'll listen. What do you have to offer?

Company Awesome: Look, we know you've got a bunch of information systems that need to exchange data with each other, but right now they barely interact at all. You need to support scientists all over the country with critical resources, but that takes a lot of tedious documentation, financial reporting, analysis, processing, and evaluation of mountains of data, which may or may not be accurate in the first place. You should be able to manage data and reports without having to think. Also, you want to develop software tools tailored to the context in which your staff works, but it's hard finding a contractor who understands grants management through and through. You don't want to spend loads of time and money bringing contractors up to speed on how you and your people operate on a daily basis. And--

Government agency: Yeah, yeah, tell me something I don't know. This is all public knowledge. Now what makes YOU so different from the other wise crack contractors?

Company Awesome: We were just getting there. See, we're not just experts in technology. We're experts in science--specifically, the science you guys do. We've worked with grants for years now, and we actually know (and currently work with) many of the people you talk to every day. That means it's a lot less expensive for us to come and design software for you, since we're already aware of most of your challenges, pain points, audience expectations, and all that jazz. So documenting your current operations won't take long. Also, we have an approach that considers all your current and future systems in relation to each other. In other words, we take a step back and look at whether your systems are using the same data, code, etc., in more than one place. We can then identify opportunities to create resources once and reuse them multiple times across all your systems, thereby reducing maintenance costs. That means you can spend money on things that matter--like designing user-friendly tools that help your staff focus on doing their job, and not on troubleshooting.

Government agency: Okay, I'm intrigued. But there are some things you overlooked. We also have to comply with--

Company Awesome: Yeah, we know. Other agencies like HHS created a handful of useful "frameworks" and "guidelines" for systems development and IT acquisition, and you need to follow those guidelines to be compliant with broader federal directives. But more importantly, you've invested in standardizing your software development process, and it's about time you see some bottom-line benefits. Well, we can help with all that stuff. We--

Government agency: Ooo, yes, tell us more about your software development process. Is it mature? Can you support our current environment, but eventually enhance it without causing lots of overhead? Can you reuse the tools we're already using? If so, how?

Company Awesome: Yes, yes, and no.

Government agency: Yes, yes, and no?

Company Awesome: Yes, yes, and no.

Government agency: Stop doing that.

Company Awesome: Sorry. It's just that, well, our processes are indeed mature (we've been doing software development for a while now), and we can bring change to your environment, just as we've done for many clients before. But quite frankly we don't want to use the tools you're currently using. I mean, we certainly have the expertise to do so, and we'll do it for as long as necessary. Nonetheless we'd like to sit down and hold a "come to Jesus" talk, because the bottom line is that you're using outdated tools, and they're actually costing you money in the long run. We'd like to recommend some better tools that aren't very expensive, and we'll work with you to take an objective, quantifiable approach to selecting the ones that will bring you the most value.

Government: Hmmm. That's a risky suggestion. Not sure I like it. Interesting idea, though. Now what about transparency? While you guys are spending our money, how are you going to make sure we can easily track and measure progress throughout the entire contract?

Company Awesome: Good question. What we do is set up a collaboration web site where both you and our project staff can work together on creating, reviewing, and approving documents. On top of that, we can customize the web site to display a bunch of key metrics, such as budget and schedule variance. That way, you get a snapshot of current operations at any given moment during the project, resulting in top-notch control and oversight.

Government agency: I get it. I have to say, you guys might have a shot. But you know we can't just give you the award. We've got to be fair and see what other contractors propose.

Company Awesome: Hey, no worries, we understand. Just keep us posted.

[some weeks later]

Panel: Hey, what's happenin'?

Government agency: Oh, just wading through a sea of grant information, that's all. What do you want?

Panel: Guess what? We're done!

Government agency: (mutters) Finally. (puts on more polite tone) Fabulous! So then, what do you think?

Panel: We think this chick has a good plan. Let's give her a million dollars.

Government agency: Okay by me. Thanks, panel! Now move along and review some other grants.

Panel: Hold your horses. We cannot stress enough that she needs to---

Government agency: Yeah, yeah, we know. This is our job, isn't it? She has to send us progress reports on a monthly and annual basis, tell us how she's been spending her money...blah, blah, blah. We got it.

Panel: Just checkin.' Wouldn't be doin' my job if I didn't.

Government agency: That's nice. Now go away. Okay, now to call the scientist. [dials a number] Hello, Mrs. Scientist? You there?

Scientist: Yes, of course I'm here, I'm not deaf. What do you want?

Government agency: Well, we're calling to tell you about your grant, but we can call another time if..."

Scientist: Oh, Uncle Sam! So sorry, I thought you were someone else. What do I--

Government agency: Don't mention it. Per your grant application, you've been selected to receive a million dollars--

Scientist: Hot dog! I love you, I love you, I love you. I can't tell you what this--

Government agency: Chill, girlie. We're going to monitor your every move to make sure you spend the money well. So you need to send us bi-annual reports in XML and PDF formats describing your efforts. That way, we can apply scientific coding and export the data to other NIH systems for oversight and congressional reporting. You also need to send us cost spreadsheets for your subprojects so we can process everything properly.

Scientist: Holy crap. That sounds hard.

Government agency: Sort of. But it won't be for long. We think we might have found just the right contractor to help us simplify our systems and applications so that they're easier to use.

Scientist: Ha! That'll be the day.

Government agency: I know, but it may come sooner than you think. A contractor's gotta do what a contractor's gotta do.

Some Solutions to Poverty

Emphasis on "some."

"The truth is that overcoming poverty will take both liberals and conservatives and those who are neither... What brings the dialogue participants together is the conviction that overcoming poverty must become a bipartisan issue and a nonpartisan cause." -Jim Wallis

How proposal writers get thick skins

Proposals generally go through four stages of review.

1. Blue Team Review. Purpose: See how bad your ideas are.
2. Pink Team Review. Purpose: See how bad your first draft is.
3. Red Team Review. Purpose: See how bad your second draft is.
4. Gold Team Review. Purpose: See how much bad writing you can get away with before just giving up, printing the darn document, and delivering it to the prospective client.

Things a guy doesn't want to hear his female co-workers say in the morning

"He'll have nightmares of his mommy sucking snot from his nose."

"He hasn't peed in my face. Yet. He's peed on his own face."

"He's spit in my mouth before."


[All of this was said during a conversation about someone's baby.]