Moving apps

This year, I jumped on the Apple train—again—and ponied up for the iPhone6s Plus. I’d had an iPhone5 for years, but after having to hold its teeny, tiny 4-inch screen near the tip of my nose to watch one too many binges of Breaking Bad and House Of Cards, I decided to trade up to the 6s Plus and its ginormous 5.5-inch screen.

I’ve had apartments smaller than this phone. The good news is all my worrying about not being able to text one-handed, fitting it in my jean pockets (thank God I don’t wear skinny jeans – no one needs to see that) and it not fitting in the cupholder in my car proved to be unfounded.

It only took one week and it was like I’d always been using it. In fact, in the same way my German Shepherd Max - the world’s greatest dog - looked huge at the beginning but doesn't anymore, the 6s Plus doesn’t look big to me unless I put an older iPhone next to it. Max also looks huge no matter what phone is next to him.

So here’s the thing: over the holiday weekend, with a little down time on my hands while I was in between slices of pumpkin pie, I decided I'd take a shot at organizing the bazillion app icons camping out wherever they damn well pleased across five big screens on my phone.

Jumping into action, and by that I mean leaning back in the big reading chair with iPhone in hand, I quickly and cagily figured out my plan of attack. I put travel apps in a folder named Travel. Health apps in a folder named Health. Money and banking apps in a folder named Finances. See where I’m going here?

At the end of it though, I still had a considerable number of orphan apps – including iSamJackson (“Get these motherf#%&ing snakes off this motherf#%&ing plane!"), Police Siren (woooooo and wahhh woooo wahhhh woooo), Basic Spanish (no bueno) and AwesomeFacts (not awesome, not all facts) – that I hardly ever use.

And by hardly I mean never.

They, along with many others, now all reside in one folder appropriately labeled Rarely Used Apps. By doing that I picked up two full screens worth of real estate. Now it’s just a matter of getting in the habit of finding apps that were on screen four on screen one. First world problems and all that.

I love the fact Apple iOS lets me create folders for my apps and clear up the screens, although I have to say I'm not entirely trusting of their motives. I mean, now that I have those two extra screens available, there's only one thing to do with them.

More apps.

A post to relish

For me, one of the great joys in life, besides air conditioning and Mexican Coke in the large bottles, is having a movie theater hot dog.

Now however bad you think regular hot dogs are - and they are very bad - movie hot dogs are even lower on the hot dog food chain.

If you google what's in a hot dog, you'll see a lot of extremely unappetizing words like beef trimmings, extruding, flavor additives. And my favorite, non-food particles.

None of that matters much when I'm shelling out $4.75 for a movie hot dog. However bad it is, I usually smother it with mustard and relish anyway.

But lately I've noticed a disturbing trend. The big chains like AMC and Edwards have switched from the Heinz brand name condiments to these generic ones, imaginatively named Sweet Relish and Yellow Mustard. This is a bad thing. Mainly because the only thing of quality on a movie hot dog were the condiments.

I understand it's a cost-cutting measure for the theaters. One cost they're not cutting - and I know you'll be as shocked as I am - is the price of the hot dog. For that price, I want the brand name goods to smother the meat batter (another term you'll see) flavor that's waiting in the bun.

I think it's time to start a movement. And not just the one you have after eating a movie hot dog. I think it's time to rise up, not go gently into that good night, well, dark theater, without letting the 16-year old theater manager know that if you're going to pay 400 times what the hot dog cost them, at least you want quality toppings for it.

I was also thinking cardboard would be a step up from the usual movie theater hot dog bun. Don't get me started.

Drip dry

If you follow me on Facebook - and really, haven't you had enough of me by now, I know I have - you may have noticed the post I did this past Thursday when I accidentally spilled water into my laptop.

Not my proudest moment. Besides having teenagers in the house, few things will make you feel as stupid.

It wasn't a complete submersion. I was opening the screen, and either a) forgot, b) didn't notice or c) didn't care about the plastic cup of water behind it. When the screen hit it, I heard the cup tip over and immediately shifted into that slow-motion feeling you go into when you're either in a really bad accident or have done something monumentally, inexcusably stupid (that one).

It felt like hours before I lifted the laptop up to prevent any more water from getting on the bottom of it, but in reality it was probably only a second or two. Fortunately, it wasn't a direct hit.

The water spilled on my desktop, and seeped under the laptop, which I'd just turned on a moment before. I immediately wiped the bottom of the laptop off, held it upside down to let any water that may have gotten in through the cooling vents run out, and then logged in.

It fired up (poor choice of words) just swell. Everything looked fine, and I figured I'd dodged a bullet. Right up until the screen started getting these static-y lines running through it. The second I saw them, I shut down. The good news is it didn't just crap out, it actually went through shut down and turned off. So I took that as a good sign. Then I went on an agency desktop, and started reading the interwebs about laptops that get water spilled on them and what to do.

The answers ranged from get it to Apple right away, let it dry out for three days, and start praying. The most optimistic were the ones that had let it dry out.

They said if you kept the computer upside down, somewhere air could circulate around it and let it dry for at least three days, often it would turn on fine and be like nothing had happened. So, as you can see by the picture, that's what I'm doing.

I won't turn it on until Sunday afternoon, but I'm hopeful. At the very least I'm hoping it'll come on long enough for me to back everything up to Time Machine, which, coincidentally, I was going to do Thursday morning before work but I was running late. Lesson learned.

I'll let you know how it works out.

In the mean time, I'm going to be careful not to spill any more drinks. Especially the one I'm going to have if I find out I have to buy a new computer.

UPDATE: This afternoon I fired up "'Ole Sparky" and I'm extremely happy to report it's working just fine. Nothing but grateful. Of course, I'll never get that hour I spent in the Apple store yesterday back, but it's a small trade-off.

It's showtime. Almost.

This is going to seem hard to believe, but unlike fairy tales and stories about unicorns, leprechauns, insightful account planners and consumer engagement, this one is absolutely true.

Once upon a time, people used to go to movie theaters and, not including movie trailers, there were no commercials or advertising before the movie. None. Zilch.

Then, someone at the L.A. Times had an idea about how the paper could get into the movie business. They decided they’d give a discount on media placement for theater listings to the theater chains if they’d run an L.A. Times commercial before the movies started.

It was a great deal for the Times. Captive audience, big screen and a theater extortion plan they knew the chains would go for.

When these commercials started appearing years ago, it didn’t matter if you were seeing a movie at the Village in Westwood or the Gardena Cinema. They were unanimously and loudly booed. People threw popcorn at the screen. The audience could get commercials at home on their televisions. It wasn’t what they were coming to the movies for. They hated it and they weren't going to sit for it.

Except that they have.

Fast forward to today. Since no one looks in the newspaper for show times anymore, the L.A. Times commercials are a quaint memory (and the paper might soon be as well). But what’s taken its place are theater owners who’ve co-opted the idea to generate revenue for themselves.

You know those pre-show, pre-packaged group of ads, shorts, trailers and interviews you see before movies? The ones that are usually bundled as First Look or The Twenty (short for the 20 minutes prior to showtime)? Yes it's paid advertising. But it's the theaters themselves who are bringing it to you.

The three major chains - Regal, AMC and Cinemark - have together formed National CineMedia(NCM) to show preshow ads in their theaters. Here's an idea how much they're making off it:

And you thought all their profit was coming from $4.75 cups of Coke.

It's actually amazing they manage to have the ad sales they do. Here's the pitch from their website:

If by fully engaged audience they mean a theater full of people talking, checking their phones, texting, playing games, looking for seats, at the concession stand buying $5.75 buckets of popcorn, then yes, they're fully engaged.

Fully engaged isn't the only promise they make that they aren't keeping.

Did you see it? It's the part at the end about loving the brand? I'm pretty sure being shown commercials in a theater has just the opposite effect. It's one thing when you see a bad commercial on television. But when you see one (or the same one) on a 60-ft. screen in 70mm with Dolby sound, the badness just scales up. So does the resentment. Even if it's a good spot, it's holding you captive before your movie.

There are two problems here. First, as always, is the money. Like the fees the airlines charge for what once was free, the theaters are making way too much from these commercials to get rid of them. And second is a passive audience who has just come to accept the first fact.

I usually like a theater as quiet as possible.

But I do miss the booing I used to hear the minute the commercial started playing.