Why iTunes Sucks

I don't keep my dislike of Apple's flagship media software a secret, and now I'm going on the offensive. To those of you who say "why not just NOT use iTunes?", I can't because I have an iPod Touch. And, truthfully, I love the iPod Touch. It's a brilliant device, and I don't want it to just be an expensive, shiny paperweight. I just hate that I have to interface with it using iTunes.

1. "That's no moon; it's a space station."

The download for the most recent version is about 100MB. For comparison, the downloads for the most recent versions of Windows Media Player and Winamp are 25MB and 10MB, respectively. I know we pretty much all have high-speed internet these days, but that is still four to ten times longer download time. If we're talking about two minutes versus ten minutes, that's a pretty significant difference.

2. "He is as clumsy as he is stupid."

This goliath of a program runs like, well, for lack of a better description, a piece of shit. Anytime it's doing anything at all, whether it's syncing my iPod Touch or building up a new round of Genius Mixes, doing anything else becomes a tedious grind. And that's frustrating as hell. Every other media player I use zips along with resiliency, pretty much regardless of what else I'm doing. iTunes also takes two or three times as long to open as either Windows Media Player or Winamp. And when it does open, it usually decides that it wants to do something that consumes more computing resources, and I end up having to wait even longer.

3. "Never his mind on where he was, hm? What he was doing!"

Why is there no equivalent of a "now playing" playlist, something temporary that I can toss songs into at my leisure? Both Windows Media Player and Winamp have this feature; even iPods have On-The-Go Playlists. This is baffling to me. It's also the cause of a great deal of frustration when I'm listening to an album and it finishes and iTunes just automatically starts playing the next one. Yet another example of Apple thinking it knows best, when really it should be leaving control in the user's hands. If I cue up an album in Winamp, and there's nothing else after it in the playlist, it stops playing. Better yet, if I have a few albums or songs queued up in Winamp and I close the program, the next time I open it those same selections are still in the playlist tab, ready for me to continue exploring them where I left off. This 'feature' has been in Winamp pretty much since its inception a decade ago, I believe.

4. "This deal is getting worse all the time!"

Before I acquired my iPod Touch, I used Winamp to put songs on my old iPod. It worked great; I could drag and drop directly from the Windows folder location onto the iPod, and there was even an option to save songs from the iPod onto my computer. But with the iPhone and the iPod Touch (and, I'm guessing, the iPad) Apple has seen fit to change the programming to make this impossible (or, from what I've read online, somewhat possible but prohibitively difficult), so now I'm stuck using iTunes to sync my iPod Touch. The problem is that computers are supposed to be getting simpler, we're supposed to be removing extra steps to move faster and improve productivity. But sync is an added step. It's like pouring your cereal from the box (or bag) into some arbitrary bowl, pouring milk into that bowl, and then pouring the entire mixture into yet another bowl and then sitting down to eat. Now you have to clean two bowls. Why not just eat out of the first bowl you poured into? No wait, it's like if someone else poured every kind of cereal you have into the bowl for you, and then left it up to you to sort out the bits and pieces you wanted to listen to—er, I mean eat.

5. "It's a trap!"

Music purchased on iTunes is DRM-protected. What does that mean? Let's take a look at this excerpt from How FairPlay Works: Apple's iTunes DRM Dilemma.

Prior to buying content from the iTunes Store, a user has to create an account with Apple's servers and then authorize a PC or Mac running iTunes.

During authorization, iTunes creates a globally unique ID number for the computer it is running on, then sends it to Apple's servers, where it is assigned to the user's iTunes account. Five different machines can be authorized.

When a user buys a song from the iTunes Store, a user key is created for the purchased file. The AAC song itself is scrambled using a separate master key, which is then included into the protected AAC song file. The master key is locked using the user key, which is both held by iTunes and also sent to Apple’s servers.

Protected, purchased content is locked within iTunes; songs are not scrambled on Apple's server. This speeds and simplifies the transaction by delegating that work to iTunes on the local computer.

The result is an authorization system that does not require iTunes to verify each song with Apple as it plays. Instead, iTunes maintains a collection of user keys for all the purchased tracks in its library.

To play a protected AAC song, iTunes uses the matching user key to unlock the master key stored within the song file, when is then used to unscramble the song data.

Every time a new track is purchased, a new user key may be created; those keys are all encrypted and stored on the authorized iTunes computer, as well as being copied to Apple's servers.

When a new computer is authorized, it also generates a globally unique ID number for itself and sends it to Apple, which stores it as one of the five authorizations in the user account.

Apple's server sends the newly authorized machine the entire set of user keys for all the tracks purchased under the account, so all authorized systems will be able to play all purchased songs.

Did you stop reading that bit and just skip to this part? That's okay, I didn't even read all of it myself. Know why? Because it's bullshit.

I don't buy music online too often, but when I do, it's at Amazon. Why? Because most of their albums are between $5 and $9.50. Yes, even the most expensive is still generally $0.50 less than iTunes. And some are $3. Oh, and it's all DRM-free. Yes, you just download the MP3s and then do whatever you want with them. Downloading from Amazon looks like this:

Install the Amazon downloader utility, which helps ensure that the stuff you pay for actually ends up on your computer, because it would be sad if it didn't.

Download some music.

Listen to it. Or don't. Add it to your iTunes library, or your Windows Media Player library, or your Winamp library. Or don't add it to any library, just leave it on your computer. Back it up to another hard drive. Send it to your mom. Put it on your iPod, or your Zune, or your whatever.

Easy. These are the reasons that iTunes sucks. Really bad.

Music I'm Enjoying

Here's some of my favorite music at the moment. I'm really enjoying a lush, honest, and organic style right now.

"Things Behind the Sun", Nick Drake, Pink Moon (1972)
Mysterious and serene and beautiful. I struggle to think of anything to describe this that's even worth saying. I'm learning to play/sing this entire album, and I'm currently three songs in.



"Anonanimal", Andrew Bird, Noble Beast (2008)
I want to loop 2:18 to 2:32. Over and over again. I want to hear that sound from the moment I wake up until I fall asleep. His minimalism/ostinato tendencies contrast with the warm, organic sound I mentioned before, but therein lies the appeal to me.



"For Real", Okkervil River, Black Sheep Boy (2005)
I'm reaching back a few years for this one (though not quite as far back as the Nick Drake), but I absolutely adore the delayed accents and syncopations of the chorus. Also, Will Sheff's voice is legit; it's rough and raw and wonderful. I've actually been into this for a bit over two years now, but I felt compelled to include it.



P.S. Buzz users need to click through to the actual post to view embedded videos.

Steppenwolf (Excerpts)

I've just finished reading the first book of those given to me by the kindly stranger in the coffee shop a month ago. It took me a bit longer than I'd have liked, because I became quite busy in the meantime. I chose to read first the one book that my coffee-drinking, Vonnegut-appreciating friend recommended most highly: Steppenwolf. He urged me to read the author's preface (added in a 1960 reprinting) and cautioned me thoroughly against romanticizing the Steppenwolf's persona or lifestyle. I'm preparing in my mind a letter to write in response to him in which I set out to make the point that it's perhaps admissible to sympathize with the character, for all his similarity.

At any rate, as I've taken to doing with all books I read starting in January of this year, I kept a collection of favorite excerpts as I came across them. I began to worry by the third, fourth, or fifth excerpt if I might be better off just writing the entire story down and calling that my excerpt. Every turn of the page found another bit of exquisitely written narrative that left me no choice but to read it multiple times until I'd had my fill of it. There is no unifying element among the excerpts; some are profound, while others simple yet wonderfully written. If you have hopes of someday reading the book and are weary of my unintentionally revealing to you crucial plot points, then be assured that these excerpts do not explicitly reference the plot, although if you are clever enough you could perhaps deduce one thing or another.

A word of praise should also be said for the translator, Basil Creighton. I suppose that a portion of my enjoyment of the story's tone and style could be attributed to his pen, but on the whole I have to admit that at many times I forgot entirely that I was reading a story originally written in German.

(34) And this too was odd: that somewhere in a green valley vines were tended by good, strong fellows and the wine pressed so that here and there in the world, far away, a few disappointed, quietly drinking townsfolk and dispirited Steppenwolves could sip a little heart and courage from their glasses.

(35) Could I be altogether lost when that heavenly little melody had been secretly rooted within me and now put forth its lovely bloom with all its tender hues?

(36) Oh, if I had had a friend at this moment, a friend in an attic room, dreaming by candlelight and with a violin lying ready at his hand! How I should have slipped up to him in his quiet hour, noiselessly climbing the winding stair to take him by surprise, and then with talk and music we should have held heavenly festival through the night!

(58-59) Man is not capable of thought in any high degree, and even the most spiritual and highly cultivated of men habitually sees the world and himself through the lenses of delusive formulas and artless simplifications—and most of all himself. For it appears to be an inborn and imperative need of all men to regard the self as a unit. However often and however grievously this illusion is shattered, it always mends again. The judge who sits over the murderer and looks into his face, and at one moment recognizes all the emotions and potentialities and possibilities of the murderer in his own soul and hears the murderer's voice as his own, is at the next moment one and indivisible as the judge, and scuttles back into the shell of his cultivated self and does his duty and condemns the murderer to death. And if ever the suspicion of their manifold being dawns upon men of unusual powers and of unusually delicate perceptions, so that, as all genius must, they break through the illusion of the unity of the personality and perceive that the self is made up of a bundle of selves, they have only to say so and at once the majority puts them under lock and key, calls science to aid, establishes schizomania and protects humanity from the necessity of hearing the cry of truth from the lips of these unfortunate persons. Why then waste words, why utter a thing that every thinking man accepts as self-evident, when the mere utterance of it is a breach of taste? A man, therefore, who gets so far as making the supposed unity of the self two-fold is already almost a genius, in any case a most exceptional and interesting person. In reality, however, every ego, so far from being a unity is in in the highest degree a manifold world, a constellated heaven, a chaos of forms, of states and stages, of inheritances and potentialities. It appears to be a necessity as imperative as eating and breathing for everyone to be forced to regard this chaos as a unity and to speak of his ego as though it were a one-fold and clearly detached and fixed phenomenon. Even the best of us shares the delusion.

(65) Man designs for himself a garden with a hundred kinds of trees, a thousands kinds of flowers, a hundred kinds of fruit and vegetables. Suppose, then, that the gardener of this garden knew no other distinction than between edible and inedible, nine-tenths of this garden would be useless to him. He would pull up the most enchanting flowers and hew down the noblest trees and even regard them with a loathing and envious eye. This is what the Steppenwolf does with the thousand flowers of his soul.

(97) Eternity is a mere moment, just long enough for a joke.

(111-112) But it's a poor fellow who can't take his pleasure without asking other people's permission.

(128) Every day new souls kept springing up beside the host of old ones, making clamorous demands and creating confusion; and now I saw as clearly as in a picture what an illusion my former personality had been.

(143-144) Before all else I learned that these playthings were not mere idle trifles invented by manufacturers and dealers for the purposes of gain. They were, on the contrary, a little or, rather, a big world, authoritative and beautiful, many sided, containing a multiplicity of things all of which had the one and only aim of serving love, refining the senses, giving life to the dead world around us, endowing it in a magical way with new instruments of love, from powder and scent to the dancing show, from ring to cigarette case, from waist-buckle to handbag. This bag was no bag, this purse no purse, flowers no flowers, the fan no fan. All were the plastic material of love, of magic and delight. Each was a messenger, a smuggler, a weapon, a battle cry.

(164-165) As a marionette whose thread the operator has let go for a moment wakes to new life after a brief paralysis of death and coma and once more plays its lively part, so did I at this jerk of the magic thread throw myself with the elasticity and eagerness of youth into the tumult from which I had just retreated in the listlessness and weariness of elderly years. Never did sinner show more haste to get to hell.

Can I Get a Witness?

This evening I was at Locals Only with a few friends. Upon arriving, one of them immediately noticed the collection of art displayed on the wall that was for sale. He commented that he really liked them and appreciated their cartoony quirks. I agreed that they were pretty cool. He mentioned the one that he liked the most, coincidentally the biggest one of the bunch.

He spent the evening debating with himself about whether he should buy a piece. He questioned aloud what we thought the prices would be for original art. I said I had no idea. He asked if they would take card or cash. I said I have no idea. He asked if he bought it, if we thought he could just take it home tonight. I said I have no idea. He did a brief survey of the area and reported back on some of the prices. He declared that the one he wanted was $100; he thought that was a bit too steep.

A bit later he informed me that a smaller piece that resembled it but was in no way as cool was only $50. He said he thought he'd just get that one. He disappeared and returned in a bit with a piece of paper declaring him the proud new owner, and he said that he was supposed to just take it with him when he left.

I asked him why he didn't buy the one he wanted. He said the price was just too much. I told him that he's buying a piece of original, hand-made art that he won't find anywhere else; and he's going to settle for one other than the one that he wanted? He repeated that $100 was just too much for him. I said that he is doing just fine money-wise (he is gainfully employed, more than I can say for myself), and that for him spending $50 or $100 on this art was not a drastic difference when it came to pleasing his aesthetic sense. I said that days, weeks, months, years from now, he won't regret spending the money. He'll be happy that he bought the art that he wanted. I urged him to do exactly what his heart was tellling him; he knew which piece he wanted, but he was going to deny himself of it entirely. I told him that a very powerful thing I had learned over the past year or so was to follow your god damn heart when you should, and to do what you know is right without questioning it. He wanted that art the moment he saw it, and it should not be otherwise.

This went on for several minutes. He said he didn't know if he could since he had already bought the one. I told him there's no way he can't just walk up and say "here's more money, please and thank you". His will was cracking. He was beginning to listen to the voice inside him telling him what he wanted. He begrudgingly agreed to go try, saying "if it'll make you happy." I shouted "no, it will make you happy! That's the whole point!"

He disappeared and came back a few minutes later with a grin on his face and a piece of paper declaring him the proud new owner of the one he fell in love with at first sight. I could tell that he was secretly and very truly, somewhere deep down beyond the reaches of the rational and intellectual recesses of his brain, happy. And those of us who were with him were happy to see him happy! He thanked me for helping him to realize what he should do. I'm glad I did. And I'm glad he did. It was awesome getting him to the point at which he would allow himself to pursue that which would bring him such great happiness.

Bake Sale Bomber

I saw this yesterday on a bumper sticker:

It will be a great day when our schools get all the money they need and the Air Force has to hold a bake sale to buy a bomber.

Now, I am by no means a pro-war kind of person. I don't drive a Hummer around with American flags draped across the windows, drinking PBR, shouting at the top of my lungs about kicking ass and so forth. I'm a pretty peaceful guy, and I believe that the first resort should always be open dialog, not open war.

Still, I think this is an incredibly narrow-minded and naïve thing to say. The person who proudly displays this on his or her bumper apparently doesn't realize that if the Air Force really did have to hold a bake sale to buy a bomber, our entire country would likely be invaded or destroyed. No more schools.

I understand that there is a very real problem with funding for education in America. And I also understand that many people don't always support the militaristic endeavors of the country. But opposing one idea by vehemently and irrationally supporting its logical opposite is not constructive. It's like saying on a blazing hot summer day that you can't stand the heat and wish it were below freezing instead. When it's actually that cold, you'll say you wish it were hot as hell again. Now you've gotten nowhere.

The real solution is somewhere in between. That's the difficult part. But people with bumper stickers like these don't help at all.

Okay, I have to admit that the bumper sticker could mean that this so-called great day comes when the entire notion that a country without a military defense would be invaded or destroyed no longer exists, that some kind of Utopian peace has prevailed. If that's the gist of it, then okay, yeah, that would be a great day. If the bumper sticker is knowingly referencing a completely farcical and highly unlikely situation, then I could almost live with it. It's like saying "hey, wouldn't solid gold toilets for everyone just be great?" Yes, that would be great.

The problem now is that we're touching on a deeper topic, and we start to address things like the necessity of evil. Consider that for all the multitude of kindness and altruism, there will likely always be an element of ill will present in human nature, and it manifests itself in a variety of ways, from someone telling you that you're ugly to armed forces invading countries and purging an entire people. That's evil. For every good soul in a coffee shop who bequeaths fifty of his most beloved books, there is another still who wants to steal them. This evil is prevalent. Without it, how will you know what is truly good?

You can't define or know anything without being cognizant of its logical opposite. What is warm water? It's water that is not cold. What is on? It's the opposite of off. It's the way you understand how delicious an apple tastes or how fun it is to drive a fast car or why sex feels great. You understand these values because you are also aware of their absence. If you were constantly eating apples or driving fast or having sex, you would likely tire of them all.

If there were ever to come a day in which the civilizations of this planet are not engaged in disagreement and war of some kind, it will be far enough in the future that we will have made contact with an alien species (or vice versa) and our entire planet will be united in war against them instead. The reason I can safely make this assumption is based solely on the necessity of evil. There will always be a bad guy, and it will only cease to be us when another option presents itself.

So the Air Force not arming itself makes about as much sense as not locking your doors at night, or leaving your valuables on the front lawn while you're away, or tattooing your Social Security and bank account numbers on your forehead, or leaving your children with complete strangers while you're out in public. Trust in humanity resolutely? Willing to take these risks? Do you think the person with the bumper sticker would?

The solution is somewhere in the middle, and that's the difficult part.

People Who

1. People who buy you a drink (or dinner, or whatever) and then remind you of the fact that you owe them shortly thereafter, probably just before you were about to return the favor.

Come on, at least give me the chance first. Getting reminded of it feels like you sent my secretary an invoice for tax purposes. It cheapens the entire gesture and makes you look like a selfish tool. If it has been like a month, then sure, by all means, remind me.

2. People in cars who intentionally splash walkers and bikers during rainy weather.

You know who you are. You're all going to hell. Seriously. It's about as funny as a punch in the face, which I'll give you the next time I see you.

3. People who say "I'm gonna let you go now" on the phone.

This is such a conveniently simple way to politely condescend; it conveys the perfect mixture of "my time has become too valuable for you" and "I'm trying to come off as humble but I'm actually quite conceited". Anytime I'm told this, I immediately say "I'm gonna let you go." Take that.

If you don't get the condescension that is inherent in this statement, you're probably one of the people who say it.

4. People who say "oh, you didn't want any, did you?"

This is the worst! It's practically synonymous with "this is really good, but I do not want you to have any, because I'm too greedy." It's bad enough to not even offer, but this is even more offensive. Maybe it's the Hobbit within me, but I believe in hospitality between friends. When you stop by to hang with me for a bit at my place, you can feel entitled to more or less anything in the pantry, what little there may be, and there may be very little, like right now; I hope you like oatmeal.

5. People who slow clap when an employee at a restaurant or bar drops and breaks a dish or glass.

As if the poor individual weren't already embarrassed enough! Who elected this person Almighty Destroyer of Souls? If you have a keen eye, you will notice that this douchebag never claps as such when the malady occurs within sight; it's only in the relative safety of anonymity from across the room that he (or she) feels completely free to express his (or her) inner bastard.

Basic Principle of Travel/Stay Proportionality

Postulate

Let t be an amount of time spent traveling to a destination, be it a friend's house or a different city, by any means of transportation (e.g. walking, biking, driving, flying). For travel durations exceeding five minutes, the amount of time (S) spent at the ultimate destination shall be no less than three times the total time spent traveling one-way to said destination:

S ≥ 3t

Derivation

For a traveling/visiting/vacationing experience to be deemed pleasurable, we must ask ourselves if the total time spent moving from one location to another and back to the original location exceeds the total time spent at the new location, and whether this time investment has yielded satisfying returns. Considering the round-trip travel duration (r), logically assumed to be 2t, barring any route or itenerary changes for the return trip, a stay duration also equal to 2t would indicate that exactly as much time was spent seated motionless in a car, for example, as was spent enjoying the sights and sounds of the destination.

 r = 2t

For the traveler's satisfaction in the trip to be sufficiently high enough, half as much again must be spent at the destination, yielding 3/2. This number is known as the Farnhoff-Wickam-Gert Quotient, and it is commonly understood to be the threshold at which travel becomes pleasurable:

3/2r

We resubstitute 2t for r and reduce:

3/2(2t)
3t

It is also understood that any additional time spent at the destination is beneficial; therefore any number that matches or exceeds the Farnhoff-Wickam-Gert Quotient is deemed acceptable.

S ≥ 3t

Practical Applications

1. Walking to your neighbor's house to return a borrowed tool.

If it takes less than five minutes, there is no requirement for the duration of the visit. You may return the borrowed tool and depart at your leisure. But feel free to stay and chat about the weather or compliment your neighbor's lawn.

2. Driving across town to hang out with friends.

If you are driving 10-20 minutes across town, and everyone decides within five minutes of your arrival that the group will be moving to a different location, the trip has not been worth your time. A travel duration of 10 minutes requires at least half an hour of hanging out; 20 minutes of travel requires a minimum of one hour.

3. Driving across the country to visit family or vacation in a new city.

If you drive 12 hours in a car to your destination, you should not spend less than three days there. If you spend three days driving from one coast to the other, you should not spend less than nine days there.

Conclusion

The Basic Principle of Travel/Stay Proportionality is a powerful tool when planning a trip of any kind. Use it wisely, and you can begin to reap the benefits of a pleasurable lifestyle.

Place to Be (Nick Drake)

I learned this song earlier today and I've been playing it almost nonstop; I just can't get enough of it. Pink Moon has quickly soared to the top of my list for all-time favorite albums, and I hope to learn more of it, if not the whole thing (the actual goal). This was the best of five takes; I probably played it twenty times before noon alone and I should have just recorded one of those. Oh well.

When I was young, younger than before
I never saw the truth hanging from the door
And now I'm older, see it face to face
And now I'm older, gotta get up, clean the place

And I was green, greener than the hill
Where flowers grow and the sun shone still
Now I'm darker than the deepest sea
Just hand me down, give me place to be

And I was strong, strong in the sun
I thought I'd see when day was done
Now I'm weaker than the palest blue
Oh so weak in this need for you

Externalization of an Inner Monologue

Here is the most recent song I've finished writing. It's in a very different style for me, but I'm not censoring myself. If something stylistically different comes out, I'll let it. I'm calling this one "Externalization of an Inner Monologue". There are a few minor flubs, but it was the best of five takes, and that's all I'm good for right now.

God damn her for finding me
I thought that I was finally free
I thought that there would be no second chance
But no amount of miles could ever be
Enough to try and put between
A lover and the love he never even had

It's bad enough to look for love
With no hope of ever being a part
Of the kind you write songs about
With the hope of breaking somebody's heart

I should have known not to trust
Myself or anyone that I know
I've already gone too far
No amount of careful advice
Can lead to love or save someone's life
If he's not looking and doesn't want to be found

There's no such thing as honesty
Or not the kind that I was hoping to find
It takes a while to get it through
To know they're finally listening to you

I wrote this song behind the wheel
Of a grave made of two tons of steel
But I'm sleeping now in a concrete bed
And I can't tell if this is even real

It's bad enough to look for love
With no hope of ever playing the part
In the kind you wrote songs about
But there's still hope of breaking some poor girl's heart

So god damn you for finding me

This is an April Fools' Day joke

This entire post is a joke; it is being written in observation of April Fools' Day. Do not believe anything contained within.

Today is April 1, the day of merry pranks and jokes. To that end, I am posting this in the hopes of catching some of you unawares. A portion of you will read this and know that it is all a prank; you will have likely also read pranks and jokes on other websites. But chances are high that a majority of you will read through this entire post and not realize the irony or humor contained within, and you may even tell a few friends about it before you realize the error of your ways. At that point, you may feel slightly embarrassed. Don't worry, it's all in the nature of the joke.

I can't take all the credit for catching you unawares. I had ample help preparing for this deception. Several of my closest friends were indispensable in the labyrinthine planning stages of this elaborate spoof. We spent hours going over the details, and now that you have been sufficiently taken for a ride, I can safely admit their involvement. If some of you feel cheated or deceived, please take your frustrations out on me and not them, as they were kept mostly in the dark about the eventual purpose of their machinations.

To those who may suppose that posting such a farcical tale of whimsy as this would perhaps discredit future writings of a more serious nature, you need not worry. I assure you that this preposterous and comedic anecdote is the only one of its kind.