When is enough enough?
By Bill Travis, Senior Technical Editor -- EDN, January 7, 1999
 Some call me a Luddite—a thorn in the side of progress—because I gripe about what I sometimes perceive as overkill in technology. That overkill embraces both software and hardware. To write this column, for example, rather than going to the trouble of setting up a new page format, I simply deleted the text from a previous document, preserving the document’s page layout and column width. I wrote the previous document with the Courier New font, because it’s easy to read on my computer display. After I deleted the text to obtain a blank page, my omniscient and omnipotent word processor decided I didn’t want Courier New anymore, so it switched the font to Times New Roman. I know, I know, I could go through a plethora of mouse clicks to make Courier New the default font, but why should I have to? Why should deleting a block of text make my word processor think I want to switch fonts? And why is my word processor "thinking" in the first place?
What I just cited is just an annoyance in dealing with bloatware. However, some bloatware features can be downright catastrophic. The other day, I finished editing a batch of Design Ideas. At EDN, we use codes involving the "at" (@) sign to denote boldface, subscripts, and superscripts. After editing (and typing in) the whole batch, I did something wrong. I either hit a wrong key or clicked the mouse on something I shouldn’t have, and my whole five- or six-page text file went into meltdown. My omniscient and omnipotent word processor saw those @ signs and decided I wanted to "hyperlink" into the Internet. I ended up with a 72-page document of gibberish, with thousands of hyperlink commands and my text randomly chopped up and strewn everywhere. Sure, it might be handy to be able to link things on the fly. But how about some error forgiveness, such as a message that says, "Are you sure you want to...?" before the computer performs major, irreversible surgery on my document? I know, I know, I could go through a plethora of mouse clicks to disable the program’s insatiable desire to link me to the Internet, but why should I have to? And heaven forbid I should ever start a document with a street address or "Dear...": I get a condescending message such as, "It looks as if you’re writing a letter. Would you like some help?" Hell no, I don’t want help! I’ve been writing letters since long before computer geeks in college started selling blue boxes. My troglodytic attitude extends to overkill in hardware, too. At EDN, we use nifty laptop computers in docking stations. They’re a great convenience on work-at-home days. However, I fail to see why I need 64 Mbytes of RAM or a 233-MHz CPU clock rate. My first computer was a Columbia (RIP) luggable, with 128 kbytes of RAM, no hard drive, and a 4.77-MHz CPU clock rate. Writing documents on my new notebook-sized supercomputer, I discern no difference in speed compared with the old, "primitive"-technology days. Of course, my omniscient and omnipotent word processor probably needs all that speed and memory to perform its feats of artificial stupidity. Hardware manufacturers have succeeded in building in annoying features, too. A few weeks ago, my computer crashed. (I guess I hit a wrong key combination, which will forever remain unknown and lurking in wait to get me again.) The screen image froze, and the keyboard and mouse became completely nonfunctional. Even hit- ting the Ctrl-Alt-Del combination couldn’t reboot the computer, as the keyboard was temporarily deceased. So I said to myself, "Bill [that’s what I call myself when I’m alone], just turn the computer off, then on again." Guess again. Even this desperate measure couldn’t rid the computer of its frozen condition. I had to remove the computer from its docking station, open the battery compartment, and break the battery connections. I read somewhere that the rate of microprocessor development is outstripping the development of applications for the superchips. The microprocessor makers are desperately searching for the next "killer app" that will exploit the incredible power of the ICs. Does this situation call for you to develop power features and capabilities just because you can? Call me a Luddite if you want, but I ask, when is enough enough? I shudder to think what the future has in store. Uh oh, maybe it’s just a coincidence, but I just lost my mouse icon. (No kidding—I’m not making this up.) You know, I don’t even know how to exit this program using the keyboard. Thank goodness I can save the file. (I remember Ctrl-S saves.) Could exit be Ctrl-E? I’ll try it, but now I face the terrifying problem of shutting down the computer without the aid of a mouse click. Nope, it’s not Ctrl-E; that command would be too logical. See what I mean? |
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 Bill Travis, Senior Technical EditorYou can reach Senior Technical Editor Bill Travis at 1-617-558-4471, fax 1-617-558-4470, or b.travis@cahners.com |
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