He will die

Newspapers of old were a bit more blunt. From the Dec. 3, 1913, edition of The Tacoma Times:

The game ended in a 6-6 tie, in case you were wondering.

Omni predicts the distant future of 2010 -- Part II: Technology

Cover of Omni's July 1982 issue.

A while back, I outlined some of the wildly incorrect predicted 2010 prices from 1980's The Omni Future Almanac. Today, I want to point out some things the Omni editors got right.

And, because it's funnier, some more stuff they got wrong.

Successes
First, a couple slam dunks. On page 206, the editors wrote that video recording technology (initially the VCR) would not only let people watch what they want, when they wanted it, but that the practice would drive programmers and ad people crazy. They even got the terminology right:

The use of home video recorders for this type of "time shifting" will cause major problems for broadcasters who must predict to their advertisers which market will be watching which program at a specific time. Fans of daytime television programs, for example, will watch soap operas when their schedules permit — probably in prime time — utterly skewing ratings and confusing advertising plans.

Another swish -- e-mail would quickly become a communications medium to be reckoned with. While it sings the praises of the yet-to-come “paperless office” Omni's Almanac also (on page 181) talks about the amazing new technology of “electronic mail.” Apparently, in this miracle technology:

Messages are typed into the computer, which instantaneously sends the letter to its destination and files all requested copies. The recipient gets the message — either on his screen or through his printer — when he asks his computer for the mail.

E-mail was predicted to be common in interoffice business by 1990 and most correspondence would be e-mail (though that term wasn’t used by Omni) by the year 2000. The book also said the post office would struggle to compete. That much is true.

Mixed bags
On some matters, Omni had a mixed track record. Take health care costs. Omni predicted (on page 157) that an average familiy's health care costs would drop from 10.1 percent of a family's income in 1980 to about eight percent in 2000. Well, three failed decades of health care policy later, A middle-income family with individual coverage spends on average 22 percent of household income on health care -- and some spend up to 50 percent. A similar middle-income family with employer based coverage spends 8 percent percent of their income on health care costs.

In business, Omni suggested that General Motors would be profitable for many years thanks to fuel cell technology in its vehicles, ”but by 2010 the Detroit giant could vanish from the leading ranks of corporate conglomeration” (p. 178). Well, they got that last part right (still waiting on the fuel cells).

In the wishful thinking department, Omni's predicted the success of Genentech, still based on a sprawling South San Francisco campus but recently acquired by Roche. Of course, Omni also said that Genentech and or Cetus (another biotech company bought by Chiron in 1991 after staggering loses) “will create pharmaceuticals that will effectively cure diabetes and suppress the cancer tendencies in smokers.” Say what?

Just plain wrong
While Omni got some things right, or at least right to a degree, it was very off in other areas. Take basic economics. The magazine's editor thought that the average amount of their income spent by an American family on housing would drop from 21.3 percent in 1980 to about 19 percent in 2000. Well, in 2009, the average US family spent about 34 percent of their income on housing. (I blame the torrid San Francisco housing market!).

Of course, no discussion about the "future" is complete without a section on robots. On page 178, the Future Almanac predicts that the Soviet Union "will standardize the robots industry." Widespread use of robots would give the proletariat workers more free time and thus result in more political tension. Nothing about the Berlin Wall falling, however.

In the United States, Omni predicted, robots will be used extensively in office, service industries and manufacturing. Occupations which would become obsolete include bank tellers, supermarket cashiers, "movie ticket operators," car wash workers and stock clerks. "Factory assembly lines will be a nostalgic reminder of the past." Tell that to the population of Flint.

Another interesting area would be the use of robots in the restaurant business:

Short-order food preparation also appears likely to be overtaken by robotics. These firms could implement a robot food-serving system as early as 1985. Gas stations will also be totally serviced by robots. While the tank is being filled, a credit card will be put into the machine to register payment and complete the transaction.

That sounds like this:

Courtesy: The Fiscal Times

Omni predicted widespread use of robots only among the wealthy and upper middle class, however. That's probably why you don't have one. Except maybe a Roomba.

I was going to give Omni credit for its prescience in saying that robot space probes would be very successful -- until the book said that robot space probes would probe "other solar systems." No robot will make it to another solar system in the next 10,000 years, barring breakthrough in warp drive.

Still, we should be glad that robots aren't quite as widespread as Omni thought they would be:

The birth of Charlotte Baker

My morning thus far:

5:32 a.m. — Wife nudges me. “No joke, I’m in labor.” Contractions about eight minutes apart.

5:50 a.m. — Calls to family. Had to decide what to do with our soon-to-be-eldest, as it’s “Super Sports Day” at his school.

6:15 a.m. — Claire calls Labor and Delivery at Kaiser San Francisco. “Sorry, we’re full up today.” Jaws drop. They call Kaiser in Redwood City, where space is reserved.

6:30 a.m. — More calls to family. Claire’s mom decides to drive down, sister-in-law will come to get Ian.

6:45 a.m. — Contractions getting hard and intense. Ian wakes up, come into our room and pretends he’s a cat. Claire humors him, then retreats into bathroom so he doesn’t see her in distress.

6:50 a.m. — “Where is everybody?” Claire asks. I help her downstairs. She has a hard contraction and makes me pull her around the corner so Ian can’t see.

6:55 a.m. — Auntie Vicki arrives to take Ian. She looks more worried that anyone else!

7 a.m. — Claire’s mom arrives. I yell down the hall, “Attention roommates, third time’s the charm! We’ll keep you updated!” (We had a pair of false alarms in the past couple weeks.)

7:05 a.m. — On road, southbound 280 to eastbound 380 to southbound 101. Claire wonders aloud, through gritted teeth, if we’ll make it. I make a quip about the cliché regarding police escorts.

7:25 a.m. — Blessed by easy traffic, we arrive at the hospital in Redwood City. Swell — there’s a lot of construction. I find the emergency entrance and pull up. I help Claire out of the car and, like a scene from a bad sitcom, her water breaks just as we step out. The upholstery thanks its lucky stars.

7:30 a.m. — Claire’s mom escorts her up while I park car. I wait at pedestrian light with a technician and we marvel at the number of jaywalkers in town.

7:45 a.m. — Claire is fully checked in. Nurse says, “This probably won’t take long.”

8:10 a.m. — The room is crowded. Nurses, student nurses, midwives, lab techs, anesthesiologists. It’s like a scene from a Marx Brothers movie.

8:35 a.m. — After nine months of pregnancy indicating she wanted to give birth au natural, Claire is hooked up to the epidural after a couple hours of actual pain. “Hey, I was in excruciating pain.”

8:40 a.m. — I get sweaty and light-headed thanks to a lot of stress, standing and no food. I need to sit down. Nurses temporarily turn their attention to me! (I'm fine.)

9:10 a.m. — Eight centimeters dilation. This is going faster than last time.

9:20 a.m. — Screaming, loud screaming (think Claire on "Lost") from room down hall. Not an auspicious sign. Then, like in movie, a baby's cries. "That was fast," we think. Nurse later comes in and says the woman down hall was so fast she was brought in by ambulance!

9:35 a.m. — I have time to blog. Next update will probably be after birth. Claire is doing fine.

9:50 a.m. — Things are calm. Claire has some minor objections to the text above, but a good journalist doesn't budge!

10:20 a.m. — Contractions picking back up. Not quite pushing time, but Claire thinks it'll be soon. Might have to sign off for a while. While update when able.

10:50 a.m. — Pushing for last 15 mins. All well, won't be long. Forgot how messy this was. Think I blocked it out of my memory.

11:08 a.m. — Claire nearly breaks my wrist during a contraction. Woman has a grip.

11:20 a.m. — Delivery Doctor finally arrives. Her name is "Rumble." Sadly, she wasn't introduced by Michael Buffer.

11:54 a.m. — Charlotte Kathleen Baker was born, 9/9 on the APGAR (no doubt a hint as to her future SAT scores), 20 inches even and 3840 grams (8 lbs, 7 oz). Everyone's good!

Below: Pics of Me and "Charlie" and a family photo.

Below: Charlie's first movie. Caution, she is a tad immodest in parts.

New addition/edition soon!

It just occurred to me that I haven't yet mentioned on this blog that Claire is pregnant and due May 14! Claire, big brother-to-be Ian, and I are all very excited.

Of course, it's no surprise to anyone who follows me on Twitter! We're expecting a girl (provided the lady with the ultrasound was competent), and her name will be Charlotte Kathleen Baker ("Charlie" as a nickname). Of course, if you followed me a Twitter, it wouldn't be a surprise.

Claire, as seen above, is already full term and ready. We had a false alarm last week, trip to the hospital and all, but it wasn't time. Claire's nurse practitioner predicts sometime over the next week.

When it happens, time permitting, I'll summarize it all in the blog, just like last time.

Oh, really? Nuts!

Allergen warnings are getting out of hand when they're telling you that your bag of peanuts may have been produced in a factory that processes peanuts.

The $111 band-aid

So SFSU charges a $111 "student health fee" every semester, whether a student is insured or not or even, as in my case, takes almost all of his classes in an off-campus location. So when I got a small cut on my pinkie Tuesday, I decided to go to the Health Center see what I get for my money. Voila! Circled is the band-aid I paid $111 for.

I better get a headache by the end of the semester so I can get some aspirin or something.

Some "sick" graffiti

The chalked writing says, "Swine Flu Warning: If you are sick, do not go to class."

I took the above picture yesterday afternoon on the main campus of San Francisco State University. I'm sure the supposedly outrageous graffiti (in easily erasable chalk) was probably written by someone in the university's health office (on the opposite side of the building upon which this note was written).

While the graffiti does offer sage advice, is it truly necessary or is it part of the paranoia we've seen around H1N1 or "swine flu?" Some early scares aside, it appears no more deadly than the average winter flu in the United States, just more easily transmitted.

This isn't 1919. Let's not shut everything down or panic. Let's practice some good hygiene and the problem will take care of itself.

(As an aside, my presence on the SFSU campus yesterday connects to why I haven't blogged much lately -- three graduate school classes have been seriously kicking my butt! Will update as I can.)

Working things out for the trip

When this trip was just a glimmer in the back of my eye in 2005, I thought it would be best to get back into shape. I'd be doing a lot of walking and a fair share of hiking -- often while carrying loads of luggage. So I began a modest exercise program.

The police department gym was sparse, but adequate considering it was free. I did mostly cardio training on an elliptical trainer for a few months, dropped a few pounds and increased my endurance. A good start. But then the city and I parted ways and my regimen suffered. My new job also involved sitting my butt at a desk (and sometimes driving), but there was no gym. I gained back most of what I'd lost and my endurance began dropping again.

(Left: Me on our elliptical trainer in an artistic iPhone shot by my four-year-old son. Look at how well he gives the appearance of motion! Not bad for someone who occasionally still needs help in the bathroom ...)

Flash forward two years until this summer. I reserved my Australia trip and immediately realized I'd need to get an exercise routine going again. I began increasing my walking at work and took hikes around the neighborhood, but knew it wouldn't make the amount of difference I wanted. Claire and I discussed getting a machine, then decided to make the jump (an official weigh-in at the doctors which showed I'd passed 240 pounds was my kicker). We settled on a ProForm Crosswalk Elliptical, which was on sale at Costco.

Well. No sooner did I assemble the elliptical then I went nuts on it. Five days a week, 30 minutes or more and at least 700 calories per workout. Fifty minutes and 1,000 calories burnt on some of my days off. Claire thinks I've lost about 15 pounds in two months (I think it's less, but I don't have a scale handy) and certainly don't get nearly as winded on my local walks.

The real test will come in about two weeks, when I trek the 10 kilometers around Uluru and -- most exhaustively -- hike to the top of the amazing Kings Canyon. That will be the real test of my new fitness and the culmination of my first exercise goal.

For the uninitiated, Kings Canyon is the stunning vista the group alights on near the end of The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert -- which I just rewatched in preparation for my trip, along with Muriel's Wedding, Danny Deckchair and Picnic at Hanging Rock in a mini-Aussie cinema festival. It was great accent practice.

Australia Itinerary Online (plus my nose aches)

Just a quick one tonight: the intinerary for my Australian trip is finally posted (had to figure out some permissions with my website). You can check it online here.

I visited my doctor for a follow-up this morning, and she finally pulled the string on the tampon-like sponge stuck three inches up my nose all weekend. Ouch. Her pulling caused a nice, gushing nosebleed which she stemmed by stuffing with cotton. All went well, and she prescribed a light regime of nasal steroids to prevent a recurrence of any polyps.

The doctor did make one comment, that my polyp was "huge" (her words) -- about an inch-and-a-half long. Yecch. And she did confirm that I did wake up in the operating room and didn't imagine the whole episode.

None the worse for wear

Surgery went just fine yesterday. Everyone was very nice at the hospital and things went quite well. I had a very slight sore throat when I woke thanks to a breathing tube, but that subsided within an hour. I had a dull ache in my nose, but no real pain afterward -- making the doctor's prescription of vicodin unnecessary. Claire picked it up (along with some prescribed antibiotics) at the pharmacy anyway, since it was only about $5 after insurance. Maybe I can resell it to a pusher in the Tenderloin (just kidding, any law enforcement web crawlers!).

Photo below: Me about an hour after surgery.

I woke up as I was being wheeled out of the operating room and said "That didn't take long." Someone, maybe my doctor asked, "How did you know?" "I looked at the clock," I replied, having been put out about 12:43 p.m. and waking up around 1:35 p.m. Of course, I was high on drugs, so there might have been no doctor, no clock and I might have actually woken up in the recovery room ...

As the photo above shows, I've got a patch of gauze under my nose to pick up any "leakage." It has to be changed every few hours, but hasn't been particularly disgusting. I also have some gauze shoved way up my nose, with a string hanging down like (pardon the analogy) a tampon. That will be removed by the doctor on Monday. How far up? So far up I can breathe well out of the affected nostril.

I'm feeling fine, with only some cottonmouth as a problem. I also have a slight taste of blood in the back of my mouth, as I was warned that I might. The gauze deep in the nose is annoying and the gauze under the nose is a problem when I eat.

I didn't cover a football game last night, although I think I might have been able to -- had I been driven to the stadium by someone else. I'm well enough to be writing this from work today, if that's any indication as to my health.

The saddest day of the year ...

When I was a kid, I always thought that the saddest day of the year was Oct. 9 -- the day after my birthday. A year of anticipation has passed, the presents have been unwrapped and there's nothing to look forward to but leftover cake. (One of my most pleasant recurring childhood memories was snagging leftover cake pieces off my mom's cheap plastic plates.)

Now that I'm older, the saddest day of the year is probably my birthday itself. I'm a year closer to middle age. No, I'm just kidding -- my birthday was a pleasant experiance, as usual. Ian bought me a purple toy lightsaber so we can have duels in the living room (or, as Claire would prefer, outside). I can act the part of Mace Windu, because not only do I have a purple saber, like Samuel L. Jackson, I'm a bad mo-fo. I also got Iron Man on Blu-Ray, a good map of Australia for my trip and various other knick-knacks. Not a bad haul, altogether.

This year, Oct. 9 is kind of a transitional day. I've got the usual day-after-birthday stuff going on, but also have been working on my grad school application and -- of course -- am planning for surgery tomorrow. I'm not worried, but do wonder if I should be erring on the side of caution and getting some more stuff in order. Eh, I'll probably be safe just not eating after midnight -- just like a Mogwai!

Going under the knife (endoscope, actually)

A couple springs ago I had really bad hay fever sandwiched by a series of colds that put a lot of stress on my sinuses. I've had moderate allergies for some time, but this series was unusual in that it continued for almost two months, after which my left nostril -- and only my left nostril -- was consistently snotty.

In the fall of 2006, while clearing the aforementioned left nostril, I felt a small growth. The growth was basically obstructing the left nostril, causing airflow problems, snoring and (apparently) contributing to my mucous problem. A quick self-diagnosis indicated I had a nasal polyp. Because nasal polyps are typically benign, and this one's problems have been manageable -- and because I have terrible insurance -- I've let it go until now.

But with the trip to Australia forthcoming, I've decided now's the time to act. I'll be doing a lot of hiking, so good airflow's important. I'll be sleeping on crowded trains and in hostels, so I'd rather not bother the folks around me with loud snoring. I'm also just plain fed up with spending a small fortune on Kleenex. So last month I saw a doctor, who referred me to an Ear, Nose and Throat specialist.

I described my symptoms to her, and she said that I probably just had severe allergies as nasal polyps are rare. No sooner did she look inside my nose, however, than she said, "Oh! You were right, you do have a polyp." (I felt somewhat vindicated.) Since it was one large polyp, the doctor said a quick endoscopic surgery would probably have better results than medication, and I agreed. She set me up for a CT scan (if you're going to be poking around near the brain, better to have a look around first) and then a surgery date.

I had my pre-operation appointment yesterday and we confirmed that I will be having surgery on Friday, Oct. 10, a week from today, at Seton Medical Center in Daly City (pictured).

The doctor will go up my nostril with an endoscope, essentially scrape away the polyp and then cauterize the removal spot. There will be no cutting from the outside. Originally, I had thought I could get by with just a local anesthetic, but she confirmed yesterday that I will indeed be out for the operation. The procedure should take about two hours and then I'll be free to go once I'm awake (barring any complications, of course).

I will be going home with my nose stuffed with gauze, bandaged and possibly with some bruising and/or a black eye. I will have to change the gauze frequently in the first few days, as it will become saturated with a disgusting mix of snot and blood. Nice. But I should recover completely within about two weeks and be able to make the 14-hour plane trip and three-week excursion with ease.

Of course, it will be spring then Down Under and my allergies will probably kick in. Sigh.