What characterizes all living things? What makes the two individuals belong to the same species? What is it that new species are constantly being discovered? What different ways are bacteria that obtain energy? What causes water bloom of? Why is it worse when there are bacteria that mass breed than algae? What plant groups belong to the plants? What do they have in common? What is meant by lichen is an example of symbiosis? How important is the blood of your cells? Hell Is Other iPods By Caspar Melville  July / August 2005 The aural loneliness of the long-distance shuffler I don't have an iPod, but it's only a matter of time. I can feel the pressure building up around me -- the groovy TV ads, the smug folks with the telltale white headphones on the subway making me feel unhip, the proliferating choice of colors. And yet something in me resists, and it's not just the inner cheapskate. Something feels not quite right, and it's not only that the iPod comes in a special red and black U2 collector's edition. I read an article recently in USA Today about the new "gospel of iPod," the emergence of "the iPod nation." Well, okay, the piece is gently parodying Apple's conventionally hyped-up marketing and loyal, not to say fanatical, user base. (There is no zeal like the zeal of an Apple Mac user; just try asking one innocently, as I once did, if there really is any substantial difference between a Mac and a PC.) So perhaps we shouldn't take it too seriously, but try these statements on for size: "My friends all have [an iPod], and I just felt it was time to catch up." Fair enough, typical teenage logic, and if not for such sentiments, where would the hula hoop or the Rubix cube ever have got? But how about this? "The iPod has changed my life," says Andrea Kozek, perhaps revealing a lack of robustness in her life in the first place. "When I need to block out the rest of the world, I turn it on." And let's face it, the one thing we really need to do is block out the rest of that pesky old world. But why not just listen to the radio, Andrea? "Do I really want to hear Britney Spears doing Bobby Brown's 'My Prerogative'? It wasn't a good song in the first place," she answers, revealing some talent for music criticism but poor taste in radio stations, which I wonder if her iPod can really resolve. (By the way, Andrea has nicknamed her iPod 'My Precious,' a tribute to Gollum in the Lord of the Rings trilogy.) It's easy to mock. So let's continue. One choice statement explains how iPod can calm the turbulent waters of family life by resolving the thorny subject of who gets to choose the music: "We'll all be listening to music at the same time," says an iPod mom from Williamsburg, New York. "I'll be connected to iTunes on my laptop, my kids will have their iPods on, and my husband likes to listen to his while he's surfing around on eBay." Remind me not to accept an invitation to dinner at their place, or at least to bring a good book with me. Here's my real o.

1. What characterizes all living things?
What makes the two individuals belong to the same species?
What is it that new species are constantly being discovered?
What different ways are bacteria that obtain energy?
What causes water bloom of?
Why is it worse when there are bacteria that mass breed than
algae?
What plant groups belong to the plants?
What do they have in common?
What is meant by lichen is an example of symbiosis?
How important is the blood of your cells?
Hell Is Other iPods
By Caspar Melville
July / August 2005
The aural loneliness of the long-distance shuffler
I don't have an iPod, but it's only a matter of time. I can feel the
pressure building up around me -- the groovy TV ads, the smug
folks with the telltale white headphones on the subway making
me feel unhip, the proliferating choice of colors.
And yet something in me resists, and it's not just the inner
cheapskate. Something feels not quite right, and it's not only
that the iPod comes in a special red and black U2 collector's
edition.
I read an article recently in USA Today about the new "gospel
of iPod," the emergence of "the iPod nation." Well, okay, the
piece is gently parodying Apple's conventionally hyped-up
marketing and loyal, not to say fanatical, user base. (There is no
zeal like the zeal of an Apple Mac user; just try asking one
innocently, as I once did, if there really is any substantial
difference between a Mac and a PC.) So perhaps we shouldn't
take it too seriously, but try these statements on for size:
"My friends all have [an iPod], and I just felt it was time to
catch up." Fair enough, typical teenage logic, and if not for such

2. sentiments, where would the hula hoop or the Rubix cube ever
have got?
But how about this? "The iPod has changed my life," says
Andrea Kozek, perhaps revealing a lack of robustness in her life
in the first place. "When I need to block out the rest of the
world, I turn it on." And let's face it, the one thing we really
need to do is block out the rest of that pesky old world. But why
not just listen to the radio, Andrea? "Do I really want to hear
Britney Spears doing Bobby Brown's 'My Prerogative'? It wasn't
a good song in the first place," she answers, revealing some
talent for music criticism but poor taste in radio stations, which
I wonder if her iPod can really resolve. (By the way, Andrea has
nicknamed her iPod 'My Precious,' a tribute to Gollum in the
Lord of the Rings trilogy.)
It's easy to mock. So let's continue. One choice statement
explains how iPod can calm the turbulent waters of family life
by resolving the thorny subject of who gets to choose the music:
"We'll all be listening to music at the same time," says an iPod
mom from Williamsburg, New York. "I'll be connected to
iTunes on my laptop, my kids will have their iPods on, and my
husband likes to listen to his while he's surfing around on
eBay." Remind me not to accept an invitation to dinner at their
place, or at least to bring a good book with me.
Here's my real objection. The iPod is an example of a
beautifully designed, convenient, and desirable object that
promises to make our lives better, but whose promise, on
reflection, as is so often the case, turns out to reinforce the
worst in our already denuded culture. In an age of atomization
and social fragmentation it reinforces solipsism and places the
individual and that dreaded value "choice" at the heart of
experience; it suggests connection -- always the implicit
promise of the digital age -- while enforcing separation; it
encourages people to "tune out" while they're occupying social
space with others, as if the others were mere irritations; and it
reduces the experience of music, which in my view is an
inherently social and collaborative art and medium, to a

3. preselected relationship with the self.
The iPod shares this severe limitation with all post-Walkman
personal stereos. They personalize, indeed privatize, music,
which really comes to life only when it is public, shared, and
collaborative. A large part of the joy of discovering good new
music is simultaneously anticipating the pleasure of sharing it
with someone else. Anything else is masturbation. Overstated?
Try this statement from one user: "With the iPod the Buddha is
in the details. The finish and the feel are such that you want to
caress it. And when you do, wonderful things happen."
Legal scholar Cass Sunstein has a theory about the Internet that
he calls "The Daily We." The argument is that rather than
broaden our access to information, ideas, and experiences, the
Internet, precisely because it offers such dizzying, disorienting
choice and possibility, reinforces the tendency to filter out what
is unknown, stick to what you like, and congregate with others
who like the same thing.
A similar argument could be made for the "iPod jukebox."
Unlike listening to (good) radio, which could infuriate and
surprise you in equal measure, the iPod jukebox protects you
from the shocks, both highs and lows; it offers you a safe
experience that flatters, because every good track was one you
chose, every familiar song reminds you of an emotion or
memory: yours. Never did I think I'd find myself sounding so
much like that old Frankfurt school philosopher-grump Theodor
Adorno, but his argument that pop music and its predictable
structure deliver back to the user a cheap thrill because he or
she recognizes how it will end seems to work for the iPod.
iPodistas like to talk up the social benefits of iPod-jacking:
Total strangers swap iPods for a moment to listen to each
other's selections. Well, okay. The utter hell of having to listen
to strangers' music collections while standing close to them
without talking in public notwithstanding, such an idea proceeds
from the premise that it is the iPod that has offered this epochal
opportunity for social interaction. It was, I am given to
understand, entirely possible even before the iPod to approach a

4. stranger on the street and attempt to swap words, names, or
even ideas in a form of "tuning in" known as a conversation. A
celebration of the joys of iPod-jacking seems a final acceptance
that the possibility of actually communicating is gone for good,
and we are left with a pale facsimile: You play me yours and I'll
play you mine.
"This is all part of the shift from mass media to personalized
media," says Paul Saffo, a technology forecaster and director of
the Institute of the Future. No doubt this is true, but is it, I
wonder, a good thing? For all the cachet and control implied by
the iPod, the laptop, the BlackBerry, the digital camera, and wi-
fi, in the end what seems to be on offer are particular kinds of
distraction and avoidance, and a peculiar kind of 21st-century
digital loneliness.
Or am I just grumpy because no one bought me an iPod for
Christmas?
Link: http://www.utne.com/community/hell-is-other-
ipods.aspx?PageId=1