JD Salinger drank his own Kombucha. Pass it on.

This explains Sarah Palin’s existence, and the 2009 Nobel Peace Prize.

http://www.slowpokecomics.com/strips/terminatrix.html

Thanks, dbay!

And Fall, too, I guess.

All I have to say, weather gods, is that there better be an effin’ warm day in January to balance this out.

Friend and avant-garde folkster Normanuniform (some 12apostrophes readers may know him as Eric Nolan) has released his new album, Woodways, on a Website I built for his music.

Check it out: www.normanuniform.net.

Dang. This does make me want to gamble! (and maybe get a baby pig or puppy with that $1 million)

Remember that scene in Minority Report, where Tom Cruise walks through the mall of the future, and retinal scans trigger the holographic billboards along the walls to call his name, and do some seriously targeted advertising?

No? Well, OK, here it is:

This scene is one of my favorites in Minority Report, since this kind of intrusive technology seems just over the horizon, and that the ideas behind it, at least, are already here, in Google Adwords, or the banners of dancing mortgage refinanciers who know where you live.

Then today, in my work inbox, I find this:

September 30, 2009, Budapest

Face Analytics Based Retail Customer Analytics Software is Being Launched

Intellio’s new face recognition technology based Retail Customer Analytics Solution provides real-time customer behavior data for retailers and marketers

This was sent to me, I suppose, soley because as a Marketing Manager, they thought I would be interested in evil.

Intellio’s new software solution VisiScanner™ provides detailed statistical data about visitors to retail outlets and the target audience of offline display media, such as billboards and digital signage systems. Intellio’s VisiScanner™, based on the in-house developed face analytics technology, provides a detailed, real time analysis of the number, gender and estimated age of potential customers.

VisiScanner™ sounded enough like a joke to me (and Intellio would make a great satire/sci fi company, if it weren’t real) that I checked Snopes before posting — but I suppose the tech in Minority Report didn’t seem that far off because it isn’t.

The press release also contained a video download, which I uploaded below — silent footage of people walking past a security camera, with little blue and red text bubbles displaying their age and gender on the screen like a heads-up display.

I’m genuinely interested in which identifiers they use in a face (or a body) to tell male from female, old from young. The range of people in the video seem to all be 20 to 40, I wonder if it’s less effective for folks outside that range . . .

Finally, I got to their privacy policy:

Privacy Policy

The Face Recognition software was designed to comply with general privacy policy standards. By default the software does not record images of the faces as it only creates anonymous statistics. Users, however, have the option to override the default setting. In this case, they need to be able to prove that their actions are in line with the relevant local privacy and data protection regulations.

It’s only a (short) matter of time before the billboards will call your name.

Read the full press release from Intellio.

If you’re reading this, you’ve probably heard of Little Szechuan, which was, until very recently, the best Chinese restaurant in the Twin Cities.

Either Pulao or I have talked to you about it or, even more likely, you’ve sat at a table there with us. In fact, considering the readership of 12apostrophes, there is a very good chance you were with us at Grand Szechuan last night.

Little Szechuan, in St. Paul, was a magical place. There I was introduced to things that I now cannot live without, like the Dan Dan Noodle, and the Szechuan peppercorn.

I became part of a dozen or so regulars who, in some configuration or another, dined at Little Szechuan way, way too often, and ordered food like we were preparing for an apocalypse, with plates stacked atop each other on the lazy Susan, a one-table buffet, all the better to try a bit of as many dishes as you could, and ensure you’d have some more for one, last late-night taste, and lunch or dinner (or both) the next day.

Then the chefs left.

One day we ordered all our old faves, but it just wasn’t the same. One dish was too salty. One dish’s sauce was too thin. One dish was soggy when it should have been crispy.

It was two months ago but we finally found them. The Little Szechuan chefs started their own place, a new place, called, in a little dig at their former employ, Grand Szechuan.

We drove their last night, nine of us, all the way to Old Shackopee and France in Bloomington. Would it be the same? Was this truly them? We had tried Little Szechuan post-chef-walkout a few times. We had tried Tea House, which we had heard was on par with Little Szechuan in its heyday. Maybe, one of us said, it’s a little like heroin; you chase and chase, but never get as high as the first time.

Let me tell you: Grand Szechuan is the good shit.

Nearing the end of our dinner, when I had abandoned my plate altogether and picked Chung King Chili Chicken and A Choy morsels directly from the serving dishes, I pushed back in my chair, and, Szechuan peppercorns coursing through my veins, sighed the sigh of the deeply content and soon to be fat.

A friend to my right knew this feeling very well, and began to laugh, at which point I began to laugh, at which point people across the table asked, “What are you laughing at?”, at which point I could only answer, truthfully, “Nothing!”, at which point, all nine of us began to laugh.

The food is like that.

I’m torn. I don’t want to disparage my old Little Szechuan; where we’ve all brought anyone who came through town in last two years; where I’ve driven eight miles for takeout, multiple times; where the wait staff is happy to see us, and us them; where the owner confided to us she hadn’t slept since all nine chefs walked out at once the week before . . .

I’ll say this about Little Szechuan: it’s still the best Chinese in St. Paul. Get the Dan Dan Noodles, which got better with the new kitchen, and the Ma La or Szechuan Taste chicken — fantastic dishes you can’t get at Grand Szechuan.

But who am I kidding? I’ll sell all my memories of Little Szechuan for one more hit of the real Ma Po, with pork crumbles and black bean paste surrounding the fresh tofu as your whole mouth tingles . . .

Make the drive to south Bloomington. If you’re an old-school Little Szechuan-er, this is all you need to know: Grand Szechuan is where the chefs went.

I’m not sure I really know what to say here…

—–

—–

Would there be a risk of using this so much there’d be an Intervention called?

Or would it just be more like President Scroob sucking down some Perri-Air?

Once in my car, a wise-ass, kicking some Aquafina bottles out of his way in the back seat, said “Wow. You guys really like water.”

The people who own this car really like everything.

As always, come up with a funny caption for this picture.

I’ve been dealing with an organization at work for over two weeks now. This Shall-Remain-Anonymous organization has information about my organization on their Web site. I have been asked by my boss’ boss to update the information because the information is inaccurate.

Thus began the fun. Upon going to the organization’s Web site, I was delighted to learn that I wasn’t the first person to want this kind of information changed. In fact, there was a giant flashing button on their Web site that says: “Update Your Nonprofit’s Information.” Wow, a flashing button? This is gonna be the easiest part of my whole week. Click…

Next page says, “You currently do not have permission to update a nonprofit report.” Uh yeah, OK, I mean how would this Web site know who I was? I could be playing one of those classic nonprofit practical jokes where I lower the fiscal year operating revenue by a couple hundred thousand dollars on this Web site, and then everyone has a good chuckle. All right, though, I’ll play your game.

“If you’d like to request permission to update your organization’s report, please enter your EIN here. Then click ‘Request Permission’” These people have thought of everything. After figuring out what our EIN was through a series of internal phone calls, I was given a 9 digit number (our Employer Identification Number). And I entered it. To which, I received an error message: “This EIN does not exist. blah blah.”

After double-checking the number (it was correct), I contacted customer service to inform them of my plight. What do I do if my EIN does not exist in your system? Can I register it with your organization? etc. I received this response ‘Thank you for contacting XX. It appears your EIN does not exist.”

Ah, yes, thank you for repeating the error message I told you I received. I responded, this time copying the error message in the email. To which, I received a snooty reply. “Sir, you need a dash after the second number.” It must be rough having to deal with such idiots who don’t know where to put the dashes in their EINs.

This time, when I entered the number with the correct placement of the dash, I received the following error message: “Jane Doe is already registered as the person responsible for updating your organization’s information. If Jane Doe is no longer with the organization, please contact us at XXX@na.com.”

An answer, finally. “Dear X, Jane Doe is no longer with our organization, can you change the access so that I can update our information. hugs and kisses, duodecad.”

And the response a few minutes ago? “Dear Duodecad, Jane Doe is already registered as the person responsible for updating your organization’s information. If Jane Doe is no longer with the organization, please contact us at XXX@na.com.”

This could get ugly.