The twitter of babel

There is a great short story by Jorge Luis Borges, called the Library of Babel, in which he describes a fantasy library, containing every possible book. Almost all the books are total gibberish, containing every possible combination of the letters of the alphabet, but a tantalising few contain snatches of meaning. And, logically, there must be a perfect copy of Hamlet in there somewhere, and also a copy where Hamlet is the murderer, or where he is abducted by aliens. Or anything. There must also be books which translate some of the gibberish books into sense. And so on.

It is easy to calculate how many possible books there are in Borges’ library. According to his scheme, he allowed only 22 lower case letters, a period, a comma and a space. Each book was 410 pages long, 40 lines per page, and 80 letters per line.

The answer is described in detail on wikipedia: it boils down to 25 to the power of 1,312,000. You can create one to look through here.

Which brings me to the point. How many possible tweets are there? If we follow Borges’ scheme, there are 25 to the power of 140 possible tweets. Of course, thanks to the miracle of Unicode, we have a lot more than 25 characters available to us. But lets keep things simple. Only a tiny fraction of these posts would make any kind of sense in any language.

Which got me wondering: how many of our tweets are actually unique? How many people have tweeted, for example, about eating a muffin at starbucks? And I thought it would be another fun twitter side project, to mark each non-unique tweet in some way, and to let you know if someone else has made exactly the same post before.

As the years pass, unique tweets would become rarer and rarer. As we posted, we would start expecting to find replicas of our droll little remarks: perhaps we would feel a little less special, or maybe pleasure at the feeling that we were not alone in the universe.

It would also answer the question of which tweet was the most common. My money is on ‘Too drukn to typee’.

Review: Flower Garden for iPhone

Bouquet

My new favourite iPhone/iPod Touch app. You get to plant virtual seeds, and watch them grow into flowers. As you bring them to maturity, new varieties are unlocked.

The only complexity is how much you have to water them. Not exactly difficult, though it does vary from flower to flower.

The payoff is the ability to snip blooms and arrange them into a bouquet, which can then be emailed to a loved (or liked) one. 

The strange thing it, I think my wife appreciates my virtual bouquets almost as much as she would a real bunch of flowers. OK, she can’t arrange them and place them around the house like she can real flowers, but she knows that each flower has been selected by me, and I have hand raised each one personally.

It certainly takes a lot more care and effort than just spending a few pounds on flowers when filling up the car. And when each bloom can take several days to reach maturity, you pick and send them carefully!

http://www.snappytouch.com/flowergarden

Google News and Twitshirt

I might be being very stupid, but it seems to me that there are some contradictions at work at the moment.

• A few days ago, several news organisations complained that Google News linking to their content reduced the value of their brand. Most people I know, follow or read felt that this was yet another example of how media organisations ‘don’t get the web’. 

• A few days ago, Merlin Mann of 43folders.com highlighted a tendency of AllThingsD to link to bloggers content without forewarning, and without making the ownership of that content sufficiently clear. (I think I got that right, read it here.) He makes the point that he is not after more page views – he is trying to build something of value, that he controls.

So, apart from news organisations being big, cumbersome, and doomed (the ‘baddies’ in the eyes of the accepted internet wisdom) and Merlin Mann being an individual, clever and funny (this guy’s GOT to be on our side, right?) what is the difference in their positions?

I genuinely don’t know who is right, and who is wrong. But they can’t both be right, or both be wrong.

Another example of double-think: Yesterday saw the launch of Twitshirt, which allows people to order custom made t-shirts, featuring any tweet you like enough to want to wear. No matter who wrote it. And they don’t ask your permission to use your intellectual property, you have to opt out. But, they do pay you 50c for every time someone uses your words, so everything is fine, apparently.

Mr Mann, whose tweets were (amazingly, from a common courtesy point-of-view) used in some publicity photos, did object however. Which is not surprising given his recent writings on this subject.

But. Isn’t this the way that YouTube works? People use upload copyrighted material, and if the owner objects, YouTube take it down, eventually. All of us internet citizens seem happy enough with that. So I can spend all day watching music videos on YouTube for free, and not that long ago the music companies were not making a penny out of it.

So, we want free music on YouTube, but we don’t want our tweets used without permission. We value our 140 character messages more highly than the accumulated lifetimes of creative output of thousands of musicians.

I don’t know if that is right or wrong either. But it worries me how we seem to accept that Google can trample all over some people’s output, and yet expect that we are somehow exempt from any fallout.

All of us blogging and tweeting are now producing content. Do we treat other people’s content with the respect that we expect ours to be treated with? If you see one of your tweets on a strangers t-shirt you might be flattered or appalled – but you might have some insight into how Rick Astley might feel about Rickrolling.

As long as we got stuff for free, we didn’t care where it came from or who owned it. The tidal wave of our popular opinion gave YouTube (Google) enormous power to decide what value something has, and how to present it. Now, as we produce our own content, we might start wanting some of those rights back.

(Another) reason newspapers are doomed

http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2009/apr/10/audiobooks-listeners-travel

The above link leads to a Guardian piece by Mark Lawson, where he argues – sorry, let me rephrase that – he states that audiobooks infantilise the reader. Novels should be read in silence. Note the use of ‘should’, like a prissy TV chef insisting on the use of only the finest olive oil. Many commenters seem to think the piece is pompous elitist rubbish, and I agree. The pick of the comments – I felt – was this:

The cultural attitude which underlies this post demeans the experience of literature almost as much as a refusal to read at all. Art is not an obligation or a test – it is a bounty, it’s an enrichment of life. It’s not about proving who you are to other people. The middle class British attitude that the consumption of literature is a social status performance is destructive and philistine. It kills Art.
(alisonp)

http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2009/apr/10/audiobooks-listeners-travel?commentid=a7084408-0c5b-4850-9106-596399fc57f8

It reminded me of earlier pieces in the Guardian which bemoaned the perceived decline of appreciation of classical music in the young (can’t we trust kids to find the music they want to listen to?), and another which spoke warmly of a project designed to get young people ‘off the streets’ (ghastly phrase) and teach them to play the cello. I wondered if such praise would be showered on a project which taught kids to play the guitar.

But this snobbery is just a symptom of the wider disease in national newspapers. Twenty years ago such pieces would not have provoked such fury in me.

Wikipedia has changed everything. This is an enormously useful site which is based on the idea that you cannot trust a word it says. This is the whole point, although some consider it to be its biggest flaw. The thing is – we should never trust anything we read or hear. I was brought up in a country where the teachers told me that black people were not designed by God to rule, and where the history textbooks – years later – were revealed to be a collection of self-serving lies. So I caught on pretty early that a lot of what important looking people say can be total nonsense. Remember that Socrates was the wisest man in Athens because he was the only one who knew he knew nothing.

What Wikipedia and other collaborative online projects teach us is that there is no one authority who decides on the truth. The best we can do is muddle towards a consensus. And newspaper columnists don’t seem to have noticed that they are wearing the Emperor’s new clothes – we no longer look to them to be the arbiters of taste or truth. We are beginning to have the self confidence to enjoy what we enjoy – and hopefully respect the fact that some people enjoy other things – without that making us in some way superior.

Stewart Lee’s Comedy Vehicle

Stewart Lees Comedy Vehicle

Stewart Lee's Comedy Vehicle

Stewart Lee returns to TV with this new show, and when he left – all of ten years ago – I mourned his passing. Together with Richard Herring he crafted two shows (Fist of Fun & TMWRNJ) which were full of life, joy, and intelligence.

A favourite memory from the show involves a repeated joke where a guest would make a lazy ‘political’ gag at a soft target, only for Stewart and Richard to deconstruct it to the point of absurdity and humiliation.

It was a surprise to me, then, that the ostensible targets of Stewart Lee’s new show were so soft. Celebrity books, Harry Potter, slapstick British sitcoms. He is no longer the arrogant young star, but a paunchy middle aged man, who has experienced some of life’s indignities, and his sarcasm veers close to bitterness. The intelligence still burns brightly, and the forensic analysis is combined with a new, daring, tendency to torture his audience by the repetition of a line until it becomes almost performance art. And I think that it is here that we find the real target of Mr Lee’s ridicule. Us – his audience.

Both shows so far have started by attacking some aspect of modern popular culture. We laugh along with him while he points out how ghastly they are. And then he slips in something like; ‘Have I read Harry Potter? No! But I have read the entire works of William Blake!’ which sounds a lot like literary snobbery. And we laugh along – only a bit more nervously. We are suddenly not so sure of our ground. Is he saying, not in so many words, ‘You laugh at how crap celebrity books are, but you still buy them, don’t you? You are the people who make this stuff popular.’

So perhaps his targets are not so soft at all. Its easy to mock a celebrity biography, certainly. Not so safe to mock us for buying them. At one point – when discussing the credit crunch – he demands that all those watching on a flat screen TV they have not paid for turn off the set and read a book instead. You haven’t earned the right to watch, he says, you are the cause of all the problems.

Still, he makes me laugh but he makes me pay for the laughter with thought. The world needs more from Stewart Lee.