Happy birthday, dot-com

Happy birthday, dot-com

I missed an opportunity to write a timely commentary on this, but it's still worth noting:

Three Letters and a Punctuation Mark That Changed the World

Sony pulls a Toyota

You may remember that Sony's PlayStation Network took a powder late last month.

For more than a day, the network and some games relying on it were unplayable on PlayStation 3s sold before last September, when the new slimmer systems debuted. The problem went away, the firestorm of criticism died down and Sony attributed the problem to a software "bug" that tricked system clocks into resetting a decade late.

Nice, but I'm inclined to think the term "bug" is generous to a fault. It suggests the software somehow tripped over its own shoelaces, when in fact software doesn't trip by itself -- if it falls, it's because people did something to push it. And in this case, those who did the pushing probably were inattentive programmers.

The network shutdown resulted when system clocks misinterpreted "March 1" as "Feb. 29," a date not on any calendar this year, and when the clocks couldn't find that date they kicked over to a default setting, Jan. 1, 2000. This is like a Y2K joke only Rip Van Winkle could appreciate.

As everyone lumped into the broad category between Harvard grads and Oprah watchers should know already, Feb. 29 shows up only on calendars for leap years, those quadrennial events that make us think we're getting more bang for our year.

Feb. 29 is in reality like that free cup of coffee you get after being overcharged for the three cups you bought before it.

Sony, in effect, spilled that cup and burned everyone at PSN, maybe burned their reputation a bit as well. Because no matter what excuse Sony offers, the fault lies with the dunderhead(s) who programmed a leap day to appear where none should.

That nobody thought during the code-writing process to consult a cheap calendar, or one that was turned to 2010, or ask someone nearby who might have a clue about when leap days appear -- well, that just makes Sony look almost as clueless as Toyota.

Furry kids, with benefits

These are my kids.

That's Augie on the left, Missy on the right. They're dachshunds rescued from abuse and neglect. As you can see, both are doing fine right now.

I call them "kids" because, against all good sense and rational behavior, my wife and I treat them like they're human children, not like dogs. I suppose if we had children already, the dogs would be just dogs.

So I guess it's a good thing we don't have children; they might wind up competing for our affection with the dogs.

I've heard though that this tends to be normal behavior among humans because dogs and other pets satisfy a paternal or maternal instinct in all of us. But dogs respond to our overtures better than just about any other animal, hence the special relationship all dogs seem to have with humans.

That special relationship elevates to another level regarding discard dogs, which are the kinds of dogs my wife and I prefer to have. These are the animals who suffered in some way by dint of being born into cruel circumstances or merely falling into them ... such as when owners feel their dogs are no longer cute or cuddly, or are bored with them, or perhaps more tragically are unable to care for them due to economic concerns.

The dogs we've acquired (four, over the past decade) all have suffered from one or more of these things. Augie, for example, was rescued from a puppy mill where the workers were indifferent to her health; she lost all her teeth and contracted a virus that destroyed her hearing. Missy, on the other hand, spent her first year cooped up in a cage that was too small for her; her ears have tears from banging the sides of the cage when she shook herself.

Our previous dogs, Tara and Lindy, who have since died, were discards, too. My wife and I like to think they passed away happy and comforted knowing their last years were much better than their first ones.

We think this way because we're not convinced that dogs were born to suffer. They enter the world as meek and unaware as humans do, and they're just as hungry for affection. Unlike humans however, dogs remain loyal to the source of affection, and they're intensely loyal to anyone who relieves them of agony.

Augie and Missy have shown us as much. Tara and Lindy did, too. And as long as that continues to happen, my wife and I will continue to try giving abandoned or abused dogs a better life.