Our ill-fated Xbox 360 was recently ejected from the bowels of Microsoft support, about six weeks after it initially broke down. They actually sent us back a different console, which is noticeably louder than the old one but otherwise functional, at least for the time being. Filled with unreasoning glee over the prospect of actually playing through our small-but-worthy stack of 360 games at last, I even gave in and bought the astoundingly overpriced wireless adapter so that we could finally make use of Xbox Live. (Running cable to the console itself isn’t really an option given our apartment setup and Tigger’s fondness for cable-chewing.)

Setting up the console to use our network was a painfully extended process, but as we weren’t expecting anything different I’m mostly just glad we got it done without any detours through the shrieking hell-pits of phone support. Now that everything’s working, I’m pretty pleased with Live in general. I have a particular obsessive streak, such that I once bought both Pokémon Ruby and Pokémon Sapphire for the GBA, just so that my Pokédex would be more complete than Pater’s. I can already tell that Achievements are going to trigger similar behavior, but I don’t mind much - after all, I need something new to obsess over now that I have my Magical Crawdad.

Ever since I first encountered the notion of a “virtual gift” - as implemented on Facebook or Livejournal, for example - I have marveled at the sheer balls it must take to charge real money for little graphics on social network profiles. In terms of sheer breathtaking absurdity, I think gifts must rank up there with ringtones, though of course they aren’t so profitable. (Yet.)

But somehow it’s even more astonishing to me that people seem happy to give and receive free gifts which are actually advertisements. They’ve so internalized the notion that adding a little picture of a cupcake or a puppy to someone’s profile is a service which must be paid for that they will willingly present their friends with ads and consider it a privilege. I first noticed this when I saw Livejournal profiles littered with cans of Diet Pepsi Max, but what made me contemplate it this morning was logging in to Facebook and seeing that today’s new gift is a Wal-Mart Ghost. Surely it’s hard to look at that image and not find it repulsive, yet I wonder how many Facebook profiles will be sporting it tomorrow morning?

I meant to mention it earlier, but Shake Shack’s Shacktoberfest event is going on until the 14th. There are Oktoberfestive sauages and a wider selection of beer than normal, both of which I heartily recommend. I was there on Friday with Sultry Nicole and we stuffed ourselves silly while listening to their accordion player, who enthusiastically covered Johnny Cash and Kraftwerk. There were also commemorative beer steins, one of which now lives in my cabinet.

I tell people that I want to get a kitten because Tigger is lonely and would like a small cat-friend. But the real reason? It’s because kittens can eat their own paws and look adorable doing it.

This morning on my way into the subway station, I was stopped by a couple of cops who wanted to search my purse. New York has had random searches in subway stations since 2005, and this is the third time I’ve been stopped, so that wasn’t so surprising. What I did find strange, though, was that one of the police officers asked me what kind of MetroCard I had - regular or unlimited. I still have no idea why they’d want to know that. Are regular MetroCard users more likely to blow up trains? Or does my monthly subway pass make me a terrorist?

I’ve been away for a few days for my brother Isaac’s wedding, and I just got home last night. The ceremony was held in Boston’s Old North Church, and during it I read a Robert Frost poem called “The Master Speed.” A number of people at the reception asked me for a copy, so I thought I’d post it here:

No speed of wind or water rushing by
But you have speed far greater. You can climb
Back up a stream of radiance to the sky,
And back through history up the stream of time.
And you were given this swiftness, not for haste
Nor chiefly that you may go where you will,
But in the rush of everything to waste,
That you may have the power of standing still–
Off any still or moving thing you say.
Two such as you with such a master speed
Cannot be parted nor be swept away
From one another once you are agreed
That life is only life forevermore
Together wing to wing and oar to oar.

Although the iPhone cannot send video or picture messages (except by email), I was curious about what would happen if someone sent me one. It seems reasonable to suppose it might be displayed using the phone’s built-in photo or video functionality, but in fact it isn’t - you get a normal SMS message letting you know that someone has tried to send you a multimedia message. A little disappointing, but it does direct you to viewmymesssage.com and provides a message ID and password with which to log in. This would be perfectly acceptable, except that I can’t get it to work. Neither of the ID/password pairs I’ve gotten with MMS messages have actually allowed me to log in and see the messages themselves. So for you other iPhone users: have you successfully used the site to view a multimedia message, or does it not work at all?

I have owned at least one of every Communicator since the brand arrived in the shape of the 9000 in … well it must be over ten years ago because I had one when I was making the film Wilde in 1996. I remember being upbraided for having it poke out of the top of my velvet jacket in one of the courtroom scenes.

Who knew Stephen Fry was a gadget geek? Certainly not me, although I did know he was a Mac user. I think I love him just a little bit more, now.

In honor o’ International Talk Like A Pirate Day, I’ve collected some pirate-related links fer ye t’ enjoy. Here’s a quick primer on talkin’ like a pirate, an’ an English t’ Pirate translator if ye’re in a real hurry. An’ ye can download th’ official TLAPD theme song fer free.

Ye can also grab th’ Calico Jack iPhone wallpaper I made a while back, or read a couple other older swashbuckler-related posts o’ mine on pirate supplies. In th’ meantime, I’ll be eatin’ me rum cake until ’tis time t’ go home and drink some actual rum. Arr!

In the decades since, copying has remained ubiquitous in the fashion industry. Fashion-forward but low-priced retailers like H & M and Zara have flourished, thanks to their ability to take designs from Milan to the mass market. Private-label designers for major department stores trumpet the fidelity of their imitations. And almost as soon as hot new designs appear on the runway, photographs and drawings of them are on their way to Chinese factories that can produce reasonable facsimiles at a fraction of the cost. Designers are as annoyed by this as their prewar forebears were, and so Congress now finds itself considering a bill, pushed by the Council of Fashion Designers of America, that would give original designs a legal protection similar to copyright.

From The Piracy Paradox in The New Yorker.