James Galvin

Listening to Newstalk (quoting from my feed reader, because their website is broken):

• Beaumont Hospital was found to have spent three-hundred and eleven-thousand euro on an I.T. system described as totally useless.
• The Irish Blood Transfusion Service lost three quarters of a million euro on another I.T. system when it abandoned its rollout.
• FÁS shells out €1.7million on the Jobs Ireland website.

It is so infuriating to see the public’s money wasted so blatantly like this in Ireland, knowing that there’s nothing we can do about it. I recently covered the black hole of funding known as Irish Roots, but it gets worse and worse.

It is safe to assume that any technology project remotely linked to the government will involve scandalous overpayment. It is due either to gross incompetence or blatant corruption - either way, heads should roll.

The guys on Newstalk mentioned the possibility that the FÁS Jobs Ireland contract may have been sewn up before ever going to public tender. Regardless of whether that is true or not, the trend is sickening. There is no accountability, and with a wink and a nudge, a state-agency doles out millions for nothing. And they get away with it. More often than not, we don’t even hear about it. Even the few instances that do make the news amount to almost nothing.

For some reason probably known to everyone except me, months will pass with no significant Irish tech-related events, then a bunch of them come together at once. Like Bus Éireann, if you’re lucky. Looks like the end of Feb/early March is one of the hotspots this year - Web2Ireland has all the latest news on upcoming events in Ireland. It might be difficult for me to pick and choose which [un?]conferences to attend. I’m considering Creative Camp (well done on the new website) in Kilkenny Castle. I suppose Blog Talk will have to be on the list, seeing as it’s being held in Cork.

If it’s not bad enough that I’m attending a conference about blogging, well I have to admit to skulking in the shadows of the social media darkside this month, caught in the maelstrom of Twitter. Never thought I’d get hooked on it, I always assumed it was just a big club full of narcissistic attention-whores who liked to bash Robert Scoble in 140 characters or less. Good for tracking events like the Irish election. It made more sense to have everyone migrate over to the technically superior Jaiku.

I was going to write a big long post apologising for having doubted Twitter, trying to convey what is so great about it, and to get a few more Irish people using it. But Damien has summed up enough just now on his blog. If it’s all about the conversation, there is no doubt that Jaiku has failed, there is no buzz. Also, there is something superior about the non-linear flow of conversation on Twitter - while it is more difficult to accurately follow what’s going on, it is easier to dip in and dip out with the added advantage of not having to read through a string of boring posts like a forum (chez Jaiku). I can’t help feeling that reading in 140 character chunks is somehow affecting my brain - not just the way I read and write but the way I talk and think. Who knows what evolution is going to throw up in a few decades if we keep this restriction.

All Twitter needs now is more normal people; dentists, fishermen, students, accountants… anything other than the same old “early adopters” that you see popping up everywhere droning on about the latest additions to the Facebook API. It will be great when there are hundreds of Cork people bopping around in the Twittisphere spewing their thoughts on Munster rugby or traffic on the South Link. My profile is here (jgalvin) so add me and I’ll reciprocate (as long as you’re not a bot or a spammer or something).

On a completely different note - kudos to all involved at Two Tits and a Vote, an armchair campaign to advocate for better women’s health care in Ireland. Starting with postcards to Mary Harney.

The other day I was driving through Vicarstown (outside Tower in Cork) and I nearly ran over a stoat (in broad daylight). I hadn’t seen one of these in over 15 years - have come across plenty of hedgehogs and badgers in that time, and the occasional mink and otter, but no stoats.

And believe it or not, I saw another one this evening. Bizarre coincidence, or has some tragedy befallen the Irish stoat population - driven by despair beneath the wheels of the nearest Mitsubishi Colt*?

Don’t forget to delete all those 2 year old plugins before you upgrade!

New York to Shannon: after a series of miserable flights with the disastrous Delta, my luck had finally changed. No matter how many times I checked my boarding pass and the seat number, and the boarding pass, and the seat number, it remained the same: Seat 3A. I thought back to the check-in at Raleigh Durham earlier that morning, the special treatment I got. Ushered out of the queue, my passport and luggage was taken from me by a nice person who “took care of everything”. At the time I thought I had been singled out for security reasons, but now I see it was just great service.

Reclining in my extra spacious seat, I was resigned to the expectation that a flight attendant would be along shortly to rectify their mistake. In preparation for my eviction, I opened the bag of free stuff so that at least I wouldn’t return to coach empty-handed.

A great sense of victory flooded through me when the cabin doors closed; victory over all the rabble piled on top of each other in the adjacent cabin. Instinctively, I hid my John Grisham novel (lucky to have also brought some Russian literature on the flight with me) and turned to greet my comrades in rows 1 to 6. Like old friends, we discussed yachts and the Hamptons, and make jokes about currency markets. All the while smugly conscious of the furious envy being directed at the back of our heads by a herd of stackable livestock.

Just as we started moving, the crew woke up to the fact that half the warning lights on the plane were lit. We were assured that it was not a problem, just a minor electrical fault. The pilot was a nice guy, but talked too much. He told us that this was a new plane that Delta just bought off American, so they didn’t really know how it worked. That was comforting.

After about an hour with some maintenance guys, the pilot declared that it would be safe to ignore the warning lights, because they weren’t that important anyway. Some people were unsettled by this decision - I was happy just to get moving at this stage. But I guess the pilot was overruled by the ground staff, because an hour later we had gone nowhere.

Seated at the front of the plane, I watched and listened as the pilot and the maintenance guys bungled around tried to figure out what to do. I could hardly believe it when I realised that the extent of their troubleshooting was to reboot the plane. It seems like tech support on an airplane is no different to anywhere else. Unsurprisingly, the reboot changed nothing.

The pilot opted to pass the time by chatting on the intercom.

“Funny story: A Nepalese airline had similar trouble last week - they sacrificed two goats and the problem was resolved.”

No laughs. Some Americans looked at each other, wondering if they should be offended. I waited for the punch-line.

“Unfortunately, Delta don’t stock goats!”

Still no laughs. The pilot should have introduced it as an interesting story, rather than a funny one, because it actually did happen. Unfortunately, half the plane thought the guy was was making racist joke, while the other half wanted to know exactly what part of cruelty to animals he thought was funny.

I turned to my new business class buddies and smugly asked, “Why don’t they sacrifice a few of those goats in the cabin behind us?” We all chuckled among ourselves, secure in the knowledge that the aforementioned passengers in economy class could not have heard us over the din of crying babies and engine noises that would accompany them for the duration of their flight.

A moment of panic struck me as I wondered: what if we had to change planes? Could I insist on remaining in business class? My Dunnes Stores jeans would surely let me down. In the end, everything turned out OK. We took off nearly four hours after scheduled departure time, which meant that I had to miss BarCamp Galway, unfortunately. I probably would have been knackered anyway, although I did sleep soundly on the flight (naturally). I’m glad to see that the videos and slides are online - fair play to whomever is responsible for that. Sounds like I missed out on a lot of worthwhile events in Ireland over the past couple of weeks - at least I can look forward to Future of Web Apps in London. Will have to brush up on my Web 2.0 speak.

It has been over a year since thousands of French tourists caused havoc on our roads as they emerged like lemmings from Cork airport in their rental cars, driving on the wrong side of the road. As they spilled precariously onto the Kinsale Road dual carriagway, hurtling towards the oncoming traffic (which was already agitated by the chaos of the pre-flyover magic roundabout) they could only think of one thing: fromage. But if they had been able to think of anything else, they would surely have cursed the careless road sign maker who led them astray with explicit instructions to “Conduire a droite”.

As the seasons passed, the rogue sign makers slowly grew in confidence, knowing that the public would soon forget the former destruction. At last, they have returned, as John Finn presents evidence of more of their handiwork on display, down at the train station. Perhaps they are toying with our Dublin visitors who tend to struggle with their reading even when the spelling is correct. I recommend that you take a look at some of John Finn’s other photos, because he has some some great ones in there.

Anytime I slate a company for their incompetence, the staff usually agree with me. In fact, most Irish people I know will be the first to give out about the company they work for. I can’t understand how this happens after Damien Mulley criticises Sky Handling Partners. Who is this mysterious individual that would go so far out on a limb to defend his company’s honour? The poor guy thought he was being clever and funny when he signed Damien up to a load of dating sites as revenge, he didn’t realise the internet wasn’t anonymous.

Unmask the Sky Handling Phantom and we shall see that at which dogs howl in the dark, and that at which cats prick up their ears after midnight! Watch this space.

I would get one of these if I had a few thousand quid to spare (via Boing Boing):

This box contains the items considered necessary for the protection of persons who travel into certain little known countries in Easter Europe where the populace are plagued with a peculiar manifestation of evil, known as Vampires… Professor Ernst Blomberg respectfully requests that the purchaser of this kit carefully studies his book. Should evil manifestations become apparent, he is then equiped to deal with them efficiently… Professor Blomberg wishes to announce his grateful thanks to that well known gunmaker of Liege, Nicholas Plombeur, whose help in compiling of the special items, the silver bullets,etc., has been most efficient. The items enclosed are as follows…

1. An efficient pistol with its usual accoutrements
2. A quantity of bullets of the finest silver
3. Powdered flowers of garlic (one phial)
4. Flour of Brimstone (one phial)
5. Wooden stake (Oak)
6. Ivory crucifix
7. Holy Water (one phial)
8. Professer Blomberg’s New Serum

I suppose I’ll have to settle for one of these cool MacBook covers instead. Tough choice, but I would lean towards Katsushika Hokusai’s “The Great Wave”.

“Whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it is always from the noblest motives.”

Announcing the blogger code of conduct, courtesy of Tim O’Reilly from O’Reilly Media (those computer books with an animal on the cover). The media has latched onto this story like never before - it made the front page of the NY Times yesterday, and I’ve seen it springing up in a bunch of newspapers this side of the Atlantic, including on BBC news. I have been struggling all evening, tormented by the claims that the man behind this is from Cork - but now I see the wealth of publicity resulting from this attention-seeking gimmick, and the limitless potential for spin-offs and follow-ups exploiting the willingness of clueless journalists to spout a few internet buzzwords, and I am convinced that this can only be the work of a Kerryman with a dodgy birth cert.

On the internet, bad publicity does not exist. The bottomless well of negativity reacting to this beacon of stupidity must surely be overflowing by now, but as it spreads like an incredulous fungus, each backlink will only serve to feed the absurd monstrosity at the source. What worries me is that, against the tide of common sense, Tim O’Reilly is building up a legion of followers supporting the new measures. It reminds me of a Derren Brown act where where he told a bunch of people to walk to one end of the room. Those that did, stayed, those that didn’t, were sent home. This was his first step in filtering the most malleable of the group who would be susceptible to his tricks. One might suspect that Tim O’Reilly is assembling his own private army, a horde of enthusiastic do-gooders still trying to figure out whether two legs are good or baaad, as they proudly display their eye-catching “Civility Enforced” insignia that somebody found in the Microsoft’s ClipArt archives from 1997.

I don’t think there’s any need to delve into the details as to what exactly is wrong with the code of conduct, since I’d probably be preaching to the converted. Damien has a good summary of the response around the place, and it is refreshing to see that there aren’t so many people kitting out in their camouflage and sheriff’s badge just yet. I particularly like this guy’s response.

I’m always cautious using the word ‘blog’ in describing this site, and cringe outright at the mention of a ‘blogosphere’. The internet is so full of people trying to make their own definitions - I just want to update my website with cool stuff. Does this mean I go back to having a homepage again?