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I miss you already.
Leaving Sex Drive is one of the hardest things I've ever done. Over the past five years, this column has become such a core part of me that I don't quite know how to let go.
And yet, after much soul-searching and many discussions with trusted advisers, I know the time has come to plunge with my whole heart into a few other pursuits. These demand a focus and an energy I cannot muster without compromising Sex Drive.
I have much sympathy for the proverbial cobbler and his unshod children – relationships deserve time too, along with exciting projects.
But I think I've done what I set out to do here: Discuss sex in an intelligent way, from a perspective that -- as recently as two years ago -- was so offbeat, even other sex writers had to ask me what I meant by "sex and tech." Wired News took a big chance in adding a sex column to its lineup and, if I may be immodest for a moment, I think it worked out pretty damn well. (Thanks, Kourosh.)
I hope I've been able to serve as a gateway between us regular folks and people on the forefront of modern sexuality. I hope I've helped plant the seeds of a more positive and relaxed approach to sex, particularly as our most intimate lives become more entwined with our technologies.
As I accidentally told one reporter, I'm a tech-positive columnist who writes about sex. He liked the sound bite and I cringed, but I have to admit, it's true.
I am proud of what we've done together over the years -- yes, we, for Sex Drive would not be what it is without your comments, e-mails, interviews, conversations, flames and blogs -- to show that sex tech is not all about fear and politics.
I've tried to emphasize how sex tech touches each of us personally: It's not just a social movement, it's an everyday experience for us, individually and as lovers, spouses, partners. This sex tech stuff is serious! I hope I have provided you with a laugh now and then.
I don't know where I'll pop up next, although I assure (or threaten) you that you've not read the last of me. I don't consider myself a true blogger -- I don't think fast enough on my feet, for one thing -- but I do blog a few times a week at reginalynn.com. I've become braver about sharing my fiction. I'm still reporting on sex (and sex tech) in the news on Tuesdays at Playboy Radio. And, of course, you can always find me in my books.
Thank you for sharing your Fridays with me.
I'll be seeing you,
Regina Lynn
- - -
Regina Lynn will always love you. It's not you, it's her. You'll meet a new sex-tech columnist who makes you happy, and then you'll realize that this is for the best, despite the mutual heartbreak and shattered expectations. Really.
Think "midnight movie," and John Waters' Pink Flamingos or David Lynch's Eraserhead likely springs to mind. These '70s experimental flicks — deemed too raw and weird for mainstream audiences — flopped on initial theatrical release only to creep back as late-night fare. Now there's a new crop of films taking the express route to cultdom. Rather than banking on big box-office draw, these movies are playing up their fringe appeal with witching-hour screenings. Among them is the Quentin Tarantino-produced biker bloodbath homage Hell Ride, starring Larry Bishop, Dennis Hopper, and Michael Madsen (out August 8). "The thing you don't want," says writer-director Bishop, "is people walking out of the theater and going, 'That was nice.' This movie is not nice." Here's the next wave of outlandish night-frights invading a theater near you.
1: Hell Ride
High-octane bikes, buckets of beer, and a whole lot of booty — it's no surprise that Tarantino, the heir apparent of midnight movies, is behind this. QT tapped Larry Bishop, a B-movie legend, five years ago to make Hell Ride, telling him it was his destiny to produce the greatest motorcycle movie ever. "The earlier films always hinted at wildness," Bishop says. "We delivered." (He's not joking: According to Bishop, the first eight minutes depicts a full-on orgy.)
2: Sukiyaki Western Django
Japanese auteur Takashi Miike, best known for cult classics like Audition, Ichi the Killer, and The City of Lost Souls, pits a lone gunman against two feuding clans in this Asian-infused spaghetti (er, udon) western, out August 29. A classic '60s spurs, guns, and glory soundtrack rolls while Japanese actors sound out cowboyisms like "I reckon." A serape-wearing Tarantino even pops up as a gunslinger called Ringo.
3: The Midnight Meat Train
Adapted from Clive Barker's 1984 debut Books of Blood collection, Ryuhei Kitamura's deliciously horrifying slasher flick lives up to its inspiration. The gore fiesta stars Bradley Cooper (Alias) as a photographer investigating a serial killer lurking in the underground railways. What he finds is a singularly demented butcher with a very effective meat tenderizer.
4: Big Man
Japan Asian superstar comedian Hitoshi Matsumoto hits the US with this ludicrous mockumentary chronicling the life of a down-and-out superhero. A film fest hit — night owls will relish its over-the-top monster sequences and Ultraman references.
5: Speed Racer
Hey, Warner Bros. Why not pull a Showgirls and recast the Wachowskis' box-office bomb as late-night snack? It's got bad dialog, car chases, physics-defying stunts, and logic-defying plot points. Bonus: Audiences can throw bananas each time Chim Chim the chimp gets time.
1949: A secretary at the Federal Communications Commission sends a letter to cable pioneer Ed Parsons in Astoria, Oregon, asking him to explain his community-antenna television system. It's the first-known FCC involvement in cable TV.
Parsons was a radio engineer and station owner who'd worked in Alaska, Washington and Oregon. He and his wife saw television demonstrated at a broadcasters' convention in Chicago in 1947. Mrs. Parsons wanted one of the new-fangled gizmos, and Ed bought one when Seattle's KRSC-TV, Channel 5, announced plans in the spring of 1948 to go on the air.
Parsons had to figure out a way to receive the TV signals from Seattle 120 miles away to Astoria, near the mouth of the Columbia River. He rigged a large antenna atop the Astoria Hotel and ran a coaxial cable across the street to his apartment. He got it working November 25. Problem solved.
Problem created: The apartment was the only place in town that could pick up the signal from Seattle, and soon friends, neighbors and total strangers were crowding into the Parsons' living room to watch the modern marvel.
Parsons was nearly driven out of house and home: "People would drive for hundreds of miles to see television. We had gotten considerable publicity …. And when people drove down from Portland or came from The Dalles or from Klamath Falls to see television, you couldn't tell them no."
He ran another cable from the hotel roof down to a TV set in the hotel lobby. So many people clogged the lobby that they got in the way of the hotel's paying guests. Parsons began running cable to other people's homes. Problem solved, industry born.
The Cable Center says Parsons charged the people he hooked up only for his materials and labor, never exacting a subscription fee. But MSNBC reports that Parsons charged $125 ($1,150 in today's money) for installation, plus $3 ($27.50 today) a month for service.
The Cable Center credits Parsons with inventing cable TV, because his system, completed in February 1949, was the first in the United States to use "coaxial cable, amplifiers and a community antenna to deliver television signals to an area that otherwise would not have been able to receive broadcast television signals." Nonetheless, the center notes that Jim Davidson beat Parsons to the punch with the first cable program: the Tennessee vs. Mississippi college football game on November 13, 1948.
In any event, FCC secretary T.J. Slowie wrote to Parsons on August 1, 1949, requesting "full information with respect to the nature of the system you may have developed and may be operating." Parsons complied, and an FCC attorney eventually concluded that CATV was a common carrier, subject to FCC jurisdiction. The commission, however, didn't adopt his recommendation, and it would be 1965 before the FCC decided to regulate cable TV.
Source: Cable Center, MSNBC
Japanese parts manufacturer Shimano is launching an electronic shifting system for high-end road bikes that it claims will vastly improve performance and reduce maintenance. By replacing the conventional levers that pull wound-steel cables through protective housings with solid-state switches and rubber-coated wires, there's no chance for road gunk to clog things up and interfere with shifting, or, for that matter, your post-ride beer.
The principle of an electronically controlled drive train is to execute perfect shifts every time, thus "reducing mental overhead," in the words of Shimano marketing manager Devin Walton. This is a resource cyclists find in short supply during epic rides.
Thursday's announcement that the system, called Di2, will hit shops in January 2009 settles a question first raised in 2005 when prototypes began cropping up on the bikes of select Shimano-sponsored racers in the pro peloton. The system's development has been photographed, chronicled and Angsted over ever since.
But if the existence of electronic shifting comes as no surprise, its weigh-in certainly should. During a recent telephone interview, an industry insider who spoke on condition of anonymity stopped cold amid a why-do-we-need-this diatribe, upon learning that Di2 weighs less than Shimano's current generation of parts. According to the company, Di2 will be 67 grams lighter than the current Dura-Ace 7800 and only 68 grams heavier than Dura-Ace 7900, the snazzy forthcoming 2009 suite of parts. "I'll be going to hell," said the source, who then fell silent -- no doubt converting grams to ounces to fractions of a pound to the limitless advantages of such weight savings. That's at least an extra Clif Bar.
Di2's front derailleur automatically adjusts itself so the chain doesn't rub as you shift.
Shimano plans to offer the electronic setup as an upgrade option within the 7900 group -- which is preselling for $2,600 -- so parts such as the two-tone cranks and brakes will be the same. (No word yet on the additional cost for electric; it could be double.) Di2 consists of two brake-and-shift levers, two derailleurs whose springs have been replaced by servo-motors, a 7.4-volt lithium-ion battery pack, and the wiring harness that connects everything.
The derailleurs, whose job is to move the chain from gear to gear as you shift, talk to each other and automatically adjust so the chain doesn't rub. They also calibrate themselves, so you don't have to play with cable tension to maintain shift quality as cables stretch and the chain and cogs wear. And although the control buttons have been placed in the traditional location behind the brake levers -- so as not to confuse anyone or overly tax that mental overhead -- they could be integrated with the ends of time-trial bars, the top of the handlebars or just about anywhere a rider might find convenient.
Still, the advantage that people who've experienced the system talk about is how little effort it takes to change gears. A quick nudge to one of the shift switches signals a motorized worm gear in the derailleur to instantly move the precise amount it needs to. Fractions of a second later, the chain snaps into position.
Chris d'Aluisio, director of advanced research and development for Specialized, likens the difference between mechanical and electric shifting to the difference between driving a race car with a manual transmission and one with F-1 style paddle shifters. "You can stay on the gas and flip through the gears with no hesitation," said d'Aluisio. "It's seamless power."
Frankie Andreu, who raced in nine Tours de France, described the shifting as "immediate and very smooth and accurate.... It's super nice."
Even my curmudgeonly unidentified source said, "The shifting is mind-blowing: I mean, you just touch the button, and it shifts."
The shift buttons are located in the traditional place -- behind the brake levers -- but they could go anywhere without affecting the performance of the system.
But let's not lose perspective. Shimano isn't the first company to attempt electronic shifting. Mavic introduced Zap in 1994 and then a wireless version called Mektronic in 2000, neither of which survived. Zap's wires proved to be less than waterproof, and Mektronic was finicky to set up properly. Shimano, notorious for its rigorous testing gauntlet, is betting that its engineers have solved the electricity problem -- and so is Campagnolo, a competitor that is on a similar development path but has yet to announce when it will release its system.
The crux of the engineering challenge is making the battery light yet long-lasting, so Shimano's engineers turned to the hardest-working part in any shifting system: the front derailleur. It's also the most temperamental, with a nasty habit of dropping or jamming the chain if the rider doesn't modulate his tempo properly while shifting. (Mavic didn't even go there -- only the rear was electric.) To be fair, the front derailleur has the notably tough job of moving a chain under heavy load between two gears of dramatically different sizes, moving at different speeds. The Di2 crew knew going in that it would require three or four times the juice of the rear derailleur.
So, when Shimano started out in 2003, the initial strategy was to throw a bunch of power at the problem, and take advantage of the servo-motor's massive torque. But this came at too high a cost, according to former Olympian Wayne Stetina, a Shimano vice president whose primary job is to test equipment and provide feedback to the engineers in Japan. "As I recall, in 2004 we had a much larger battery that went dead on me several times during long rides," said Stetina, who has logged 19,000 miles on various iterations of Di2. "It couldn't last more than three or four hours between charges, and the battery pack and control system weighed nearly a pound."
Shimano claims that the 7.4-volt lithium-ion battery will go 1,000 kilometers between charges.
That wasn't going to fly in a sport where grams can translate directly into seconds. The trick would be to conserve power, not squander it. Shimano's engineers redesigned the geometry of the front-derailleur to amplify the force, so they could get the necessary output with far less input. The greater leverage of the new derailleur allowed for a much smaller battery and ultimately shaved half a pound off the system. Stetina claims the battery consistently lasts 2,000 miles between charges (which takes 90 minutes). Officially, Shimano says the battery will last for 1,000 kilometers (621 miles).
The front derailleur doesn't actually move with more force or more speed, as you might assume. It does receive the signal to shift faster than you can send one by cranking on your lever and fighting against friction, spring tension and a lesser mechanical advantage. More important, it should do the same exact thing, every time, without needing to be coaxed or cursed. Powered as it is by an electric motor, the front derailleur simply moves a calibrated distance when it's told. "It just jams the chain into the big ring, no matter how much load is on it," d'Aluisio said. "You don't lose any momentum, and your legs never stall."
Road-bike aficionados are much like trout: simultaneously enthralled and mortified by anything shiny and new that enters their environment. And so it's not surprising that the first two questions people tend to ask about Di2 are: 1) What if the battery dies? and 2) What if it gets wet?
Stetina believes he's personally answered the first. And besides, he said, there is a battery meter on the Flight Deck computer (which includes heart rate, altimeter, inclinometer, calorie counter and the ability to download all these details to your PC after the ride). His unscientific-though-admirable strategy for testing the waterproofness of the system has been to blast the components with the high-pressure hose at a coin-op car wash.
Presumably Shimano's engineers in Japan have more-traditional testing methods. The company prides itself on systems engineering, and has been working on this set of components for more than five years. How will it work? You can find out for yourself when Di2 goes on sale in January. Call us when you've put 12,000 miles on it.