No Halloween for the wicked

Halloween was yesterday, and I count myself fortunate to have had work until 1030pm, thereby avoiding the noisy streets and kids who ring our doorbell even though we haven’t got our light on. Indeed I’m a bit of a Grinch when it comes to the holiday that everyone seemingly loves; a homebody who prefers peace and quiet, and not overly fond of horror films, isn’t likely to enjoy the Halloween atmosphere.

It all connects back to my childhood. In China there was no such thing as Halloween, and when we immigrated here my first ever Halloween at age 8 was bewildering and fantastical. You mean I knock on doors and people will give me candy? What the heck I love America now! Due to circumstances however that was my one and only trick-or-treating experience.

When your family is under the poverty line, spending money every single year for a costume is completely out of the question. Therefore I never got into the habit of dressing up for Halloween, which is just as well because adult me making decent money equally loathes to expense money each year for a new outfit. Was it sad as a kid to see everyone in costume and I wasn’t? Not really; when you grew up and went to school in a poor neighborhood (back when San Francisco still had those), I was far from the only person lacking proper holiday garb.

Back then roaming the streets at night in my neighborhood wasn’t exactly the brightest of ideas - not a day goes by without sounds of siren and emergency vehicles whizzing by our home, so I never once trick-or-treated. Not to say there weren’t kids out and about during Halloween, but surely they’ve got parents with calmer hearts than mine. We never gave out candy, either, because our family can barely afford to keep the roof over our heads. Spending money on candy as charity was an extravagance we can’t indulge.

So the Halloween spirit never had the opportunity to take hold on me. Even in high school when there were years I wanted to go trick-or-treating with classmates, the fact I lived an hour away by bus from them made it impossible. My parents wasn’t about to go out of their way to pick me up by car just because I wanted to hang out with friends instead of coming home immediately after school and focus on homework. Hashtag tiger mom.

In the coming years I’d be all too happy to continue working during Halloween night and miss the commotion and festivities.

The most magical place on earth isn’t Disneyland, but rather, Costco.

Mac Mini and Macbook Air is still alive

And just like that, the longest neglected two products in Apple’s portfolio - sans Mac Pro - finally received updates.

I woke yesterday to the Apple event in Brooklyn still ongoing: it started at 7am, and I tend to wake at 8am. An avid purveyor of Apple products I may be, I was not about to forgo precious sleep time just to watch a keynote. Nevertheless, I hopped on immediately onto MacRumors, ignored the presentation of the new iPad that was ongoing, and went hunting for details on the new Macs earlier in the event.

After four inexplicably long years, the much beloved Mac Mini finally gets refreshed. No longer are people suckered into paying the same price for hilariously outdated internals. I’ve fond memories of the Mac Mini because I bought one back in 2014, the last time it got an update until today. It was a relative powerhouse in a tiny package, and the unit served me well in my creative endeavors until it was replaced by a 5K iMac last year. Had today’s refresh been available then, I probably would’ve bought it.

The new Mac Mini receives innards that rival the iMac, as long as you don’t care about graphics performance. It’s got the latest 8th-generation Intel chips, alongside a completely flash storage architecture, featuring up to 64GB of memory and 1.5TB of SSD storage. With an army of IO ports at the back similar to the iMac, the new Mac Mini should make plenty of BYOP (bring your own peripherals) customers happy; even those wanting more graphics can attach an eGPU unit via Thunderbolt 3.

Here’s to hoping Apple doesn’t let this Mac Mini languish unchanged for another four years.

The other Mac product to receive a refresh, a genuine surprise for me, is the Macbook Air. Thought to be in purgatory since the introduction of the Macbook back in 2016, it seems Apple have decided to reharness the immense brand value of what is easily their most popular laptop ever. Essentially an entry-level 13-inch Macbook Pro by a different name, the new Macbook Air changes it up slightly by retaining the iconic tapered design, and adding Touch ID to the keyboard (previously only available on Pro models with the Touch Bar). The new laptop looks fantastic.

Macbook Air with a retina display: we’ve been clamoring for it endlessly, and after many long years Apple finally delivered. As a previous owner of an 11-inch Macbook Air which was unceremoniously forsaken at a TSA checkpoint, I’m dangerously close to plopping down the $1200 necessary for the base new one. If only I wasn’t saving up for a 911…

All of the lines.

My first joy of driving wasn't in a car

Back in my high school days, Initial D was the biggest thing amongst us kids who loved Japanese cars. I was introduced to the anime by a friend of mine who lend me his bootleg CDs of the first series, and as a person who grew up on watching Japanese anime, I was quite excited that finally there was one about cars.

Kids these days have it so incredible good with easy online access to content; back in our day there was no such thing as Youtube, no such thing as digital release - Internet wasn’t even fast enough. Anime gets broadcasted on TV in Japan, and then you either wait for the DVDs, or pray someone recorded the broadcast on a computer, dub in English subtitles, and puts it up on peer-to-peer networks (Bittorrent for life). For the second and third series of Initial D I actually had to ask my father’s friend who was visiting Hong Kong at the time to buy the DVDs. It wasn’t until the fourth series that the content was widely available online the day after broadcast thanks to dedicated subbing groups.

Alongside the anime program there’s naturally offshoots in merchandising. One of the most popular Initial D related items were the arcade machines. The opportunity to “drive” the cars in the numerous racing battles seen in the anime was completely irresistible. Luckily for us there were arcade machines a brief 15 minute walk from our high school - at San Francisco State, where I currently work at, coincidently. Back then the hoards of people queueing up just to have a go was enormous, often dozen deep during the hours immediately after school.

Unfortunately I was seriously lacking in funds (each turn required two dollars) so I never got too far into the game unlike most of my peers. Now that I think about it I don’t think I’ve played Initial D more than five times. I thought wouldn’t it be great - far less costly, and no lines - if I had such a driving game setup at home. When Gran Turismo 4 was introduced in 2004, I seize the chance to do just that.

Logitech and other accessories manufacturers was at the infancy of offering wheel setups for driving games, and for $150 in 2004 dollars I bought a Logitech Driving Force Pro to get the Initial D arcade-like experience at home. We had to build a stand out of Home Depot wood to position the wheel in front of the television, and for seating I simply used my desk chair. It was crude indeed compared to the Logitech T300RS and Playseat Challenge combo I’ve got now, but chasing the final bits of realism and force-feedback wasn’t the point: back then it was solely about the pure joy of driving.

A kid who’ve loved car since he can remember was all of a sudden able to drive over 700 of them in GT4. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t remotely close to piloting the real thing; I had a steering wheel in my hand, with gas and brake pedals beneath my feet, and I’m controlling a car on the screen in front of me. That was more than enough, especially since I haven’t yet gotten my driver license. I absolutely worn it out out driving on the Nurburgring whenever I had free time, which is something i still do in Assetto Corsa.

So yes, my first ‘joy of driving’ moment wasn’t in an actual car, which I think is pretty awesome.

In 2016 the Initial D machines are still there, though the amount of customers have dwindled considerably.

Make turbocharged engines great again

As a car enthusiasts I am predisposed to prefer naturally-aspirated engines over the equivalent turbocharged units. Having owned cars with both atmospheric and force induction, I greatly prefer the crisp response and melodic sounds of natural-aspiration, and I want that linear power push all the way towards the rev-limiter. Turbocharged engines with their huge torque plateaus and agonizing lag isn’t nearly as rewarding.

There’s an obvious headwind against our love of engines unencumbered with turbos: the entire automotive industry is heading the opposite direction. Due to ever stringent emission standards, automakers are gravitating heavily towards turbocharging to achieve the best of both worlds: sheer power when needed, but small-engine fuel economy it isn’t. It seems most manufacturers these days have got a two-liter turbocharged four-cylinder serving duty in their respective portfolio, replacing venerable naturally-aspirated V6s. In turn, turbocharged six-cylinders are occupying spots previously held by lumbering V8s.

Not even the revered and beloved sports car segment, massively low-volume it may be, is immune to the encroachment of turbochargers. The latest range of the iconic Porsche 911 is entirely motivated by turbocharged engines, save for the exclusive GT3. Similarly over at Ferrari, there’s but one model left that’s naturally-aspirated (812 Superfast). The legendary BMW M3 have lost its traditional atmospheric song for one whole generation already.

Perhaps instead of the #savethemanual campaign, petrol-heads should instead focus on saving the NA motor.

I’m not strictly against turbocharging; I think their power-per-liter possibilities are tremendous, and the mountainous shove once turbos are properly lit is rivaled only by electric cars. The crux of my issue with turbo engines is the utter lack of aural sensation: the typical mill in modern cars is muffled and sounds like a vacuum cleaner. Sound is an integral ingredient to the driving experience, otherwise we’d all be driving Tesla cars.

It isn’t like turbocharged engines can’t be made to sound exciting; we all grew up with WRC and those monster turbo machines masquerading as rally cars. The whooshes and hisses, the pops and bangs, and the ethereal whine of the turbo as it builds pressure: where have all this gone? Why have auto manufacturers engineered out these innate aural qualities of turbocharging? It doesn’t have to sound so sterile and benign; let me hear that it’s indeed got a turbo hanging off the exhaust manifold!

A turbo 911 Carrera that sounds like a group stage rally car is a delicious prospect indeed, one I’d readily hand my money over to.

And to think some people just go bowling.

Minimalist versus the utilitarian

Back in my early twenties there was a time I was quite fascinated with minimalism. Growing up my family was decidedly poor so it wasn’t like I had a lot of stuff anyways, but the idea of having as little worldly possessions as possible appealed greatly to me then. Computer technology have allowed us to digitize practically everything; items that would otherwise take up massive amounts of space like books and CD collections can now all be stored on our devices.

The iconic image of Steve Jobs sitting in his living room with nothing but the bare essentials, an utter lack of furniture save for an extraordinarily ornate lamp. That picture was the primary inspiration back then for me to begin decluttering my life: physical books were tossed out in favor of digital, old CDs and cassettes got converted to MP3s (wish I had kept those, honestly), and reams of accumulated car magazines put into the recycling bin.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) it never got beyond that - I love material things far too much. The brief flirtation with minimalism was merely a motivation to basically clean up my room, which in hindsight I don’t suppose it’s a negative. Indeed I do tend to accumulate a myriad of items and knickknacks over time, figurines and ornaments that provide inspiration for my artistic endeavors. For example up on my shelves are a few vinyl albums on display, even though I don’t have a record player. Physical books, too, have returned in my favors in recent years, and those simply pile up after having read them, and aren’t likely to be read again.

A year ago I performed the KonMari Method of cleaning to all my belongings, and 10 full-size trash bags later my living space was renewed and refreshed. Fast-forward to the present and the accumulation creep has returned. I’ve done well to not purchase any new clothing, but the amount of books have increased exponentially, and various souvenirs from trips have materialized on the shelves. It’s all maintained neat and tidy, though from a perspective of utility it’s highly wanting.

Rather than minimalist, my philosophy when it comes to things material is centered on utility: does it serve a purpose, and will I use it regularly. That ethos helps greatly limit my frivolous spending, though conversely I use it somewhat dubiously as justification for always upgrading to the latest and greatest iPhone. It’s a device I most frequently use, therefore it’s worth the relatively extravagant sum to get it.

So with that in mind, can I then for example force myself to donate away books I’ve already read, instead of them lining up my shelves? After all their utilitarian purpose is served and gone, and the reclaimed space would be quite lovely.

That’s going to be tough.

All the curves at the all the right places.

What if I hit the lottery?

I seldom play the lottery because rationality informs me the odds of winning are vanishingly minimal, and the money would otherwise be better served in an investment account. That’s precisely what I’ve been doing; volatility in the equities market these past few weeks notwithstanding. Investing in stocks is sort of like gambling: none of it is guaranteed, so in that way I don’t feel the need to buy lottery tickets or frequent Las Vegas casinos.

In the rare times when the lottery jackpot reaches stratospheric heights like last evening’s $1.6 billion in the Mega Millions, I'm inclined to buy in at the minimum. The odds haven’t changed of course, but the prize incentive is increased so dramatically that it’d feel rather stupid to not at least throw my hat into the proverbial ring. After all, the hockey great Wayne Gretzky once said, "you miss 100% of the shots you don't take". $40 million is life-changing indeed, but $1.6 billion is another life.

It’s always fun exercise to dream about exactly what you will do with that amount of money. I reckon the dopamine hit alone is worth squandering the two dollars required for one ticket. Plenty of people would probably quit their jobs, buy property somewhere to live, and follow their true passions. I’m certainly amongst that camp: if I hit the lottery I’d be a vagabonding photographer, with a focus on driving cars in spectacular locations, and write about it all on this website.

The question is, would I need to win a jackpot to do that?

Answer is a decided no. It doesn’t take an enormous sum to travel and write; get good enough I might even be decently paid for it. What the hypothetical lottery winning provides is absolute freedom: freedom from the obligations of a normal person. People aren’t keen to quit their jobs to chase a passion because they’ve got others dependent on their regular paychecks, be that a spouse, children, or a mortgage.

I currently have none of those obligations, and quite a bit saved up in the bank (again, last couple of weeks’ stock market notwithstanding). So what’s stopping me from going after my passion?

Just me.

I don’t suppose any of this is OSHA approved.

Got tickets to Hamilton. Again.

The beloved musical sensation Hamilton is returning to San Francisco in 2019. Having the pleasure of seeing it when the tour first made its way to our neck of the woods back in 2017, I can only say its very well worth the hype. So much so that the group I went will be seeing the musical again next year. As a person who doesn’t like to do things a second time once I’ve already experience it (unless it’s traveling to Asia), spending proper money to see Hamilton once more is rare occasion indeed.

Tickets for the 2019 tour went on sale to the general public yesterday. Instead of allowing tens of thousands of customers crash its ticketing website at once, the fine folks at SHN implements a virtual waiting room. You are quarantined as soon as you visit the website, and once the clock strikes time for business, you get assigned a wait number like a grocery store counter; when your number is front of queue you’ll be then taken to the actual ticketing site for purchasing. It’s a brilliant system, far superior to the ‘website crash then click refresh a million times and pray you’ll get in’ format that I’m sadly accustomed to.

My friends and I of course went the route of divide and conquer: we each logged-on to SHN, and whoever was furthest ahead in the line was tasked to the do the buying. Each of us could also have respectively used multiple devices to try for a better number amongst ourselves - I was home at the time so I personally had four opportunities, but that strategy seemed a bit on the wrong side of ethical. We were lucky too that we got done within an hour and a half after tickets went on sale at 10am. Others I saw waited nearly six hours before they were let into the system.

Nevertheless I ended up with the third highest wait number within our group of four, so unfortunately I was unable to earn points on my credit card.

Obviously, maximizing credit points is, uh, not the point; we are locked in for a second viewing of Hamilton next May, and this time we got better seats as well - no longer up on the balcony with the peasants. I guess in the span of two years our respective financial situations have all improved to such that we can easily spend over two hundred dollars on a musical we’ve already seen. A prime example of being a coastal elite that’s been so maligned in the media.

There’s lot going on between now and next May so it’s nothing to be excited about yet, but it’s something splendid to look forward to.

I’m decidedly not fond of waiting in lines, even virtual ones.