Laser-Tastatur fur iPhone, iPad, iPod touch und Android

Ein neues Smartphone-Zubehor namens Magic Cube soll das Tippen von langen Nachrichten sehr einfach machen. Das Gerat projiziert eine Tastatur auf eine Oberflache, so dass man diese wie eine echte Hardware-PC-Tastatur mit 10-Fingern nutzen kann.

Das grobe Problem an kleinen Smartphones sind die entsprechend kleinen Tastaturen. Viele werden sicherlich mit den virtuellen Tasten gut zurecht kommen, doch einige werden eine grobe Tastatur vermissen. Vor allem Vielschreiber, die gern auch mal eine langere e-Mail uber ihr Smartphone schreiben, werden das Problem kennen.

Der Zubehor-Hersteller Celluon bietet nun ein neues Gadget, das Abhilfe schaffen soll. Sie erfanden ein Laser-Keyboard namens “Magic Cube”. Magic Cube projiziert die Tastatur mittels Laserstrahlen auf den Tisch. Dort kann man ganz normal tippen, als hatte man eine echte Tastatur unter seinen Fingern. Ein eingebauter Sensor nimmt die Bewegungen der Fingerspitzen auf und ubergibt die Eingaben an das Gerat. Die Verbindung zum Gerat wird dabei via Bluetooth hergestellt.

Magic Cube ist auf jeden Fall ein nettes Gimmick fur Vielschreiber. Es passt in jede Tasche, so dass es sich leicht mitfuhren lasst. Fur Jacken-/Hosentaschen ist es jedpch zu grob. Fur Manner wird es also wohl schon wieder schwierig, dass Zubehor immer mitzufuhren.

Ein weiteres grobes Problem sehe ich im Stromverbrauch durch Bluetooth. Bluetooth ist ein richtiger Stromfresser -- fur kurze Datenverbindungen ist Bluetooth gut geeignet, aber fur langere Standzeiten? Wohl eher kaum. Zudem musste man in Tests feststellen, ob die Erkennung der Fingerposition wirklich einwandfrei funktioniert oder fur Frust sorgt. Den letzten Kritikpunkt sehe ich im Preis des Magic Cubes. Mit 190 US-Dollar, also ca. 140 Euro, ist das Zubehor extrem teuer.

Fazit: Nette Idee (die nicht neu ist), doch durch den hohen Preis und die doch eher klobige Struktur des Gerats ist es nicht wirklich empfehlenswert. Was meint ihr dazu?

What Will Become Of The 'Kodak Moment'?

Readers of this page know me as a baby boomer who prefers to describe her age in anecdotal terms, rather than getting too specific about the numbers. Suffice it to say that I had given up afternoon naps by the time Kennedy was assassinated. Not long after that (though it seemed like eons from my childish perspective), I had a Kodak moment when I attended the 1964 World’s Fair in my hometown, New York City.

Eastman Kodak Company‘s pavilion there was a white, undulating, wildly futuristic structure that looked like something out of Dr. Seuss but was actually designed by Will Burtin. Part of the rooftop garden simulated the terrain of the moon’s surface (five years before the first men walked on it).

I had little use for the exhibits there are about taking pictures — it was a number of more birthdays until I got my first camera. But when I did it was a Kodak Instamatic. That word has become so antiquated that Dragon NaturallySpeaking, the voice recognition software that I use to write, entered “in systematic” instead, and until I capitalized the word my computer flagged “instamatic” as a spelling error.

For a child, this camera might as well have been called “instant magic,” which is what Dragon entered the second time I said the word. It was the ultimate point-and-shoot. There was no need to focus or even learn to load film. The kodachrome came preloaded on a sealed cartridge that you simply dropped into the camera and wound (it stopped automatically when you reached the right point). You never actually saw the film.

But my favorite part was the flash cube that you snapped onto the top of the camera when you needed more light. It contained four tiny bulbs — one on each side — and rotated as you wound the camera after taking a picture. I loved the look of those exploded bulbs as they seemed to ooze their molten contents. How environmentally unfriendly! I imagine mounds of them lurking in landfills.

The phrase “Kodak moment” has been in use for more than 50 years, company research indicates. Among the early print-ad headlines was “This Kodak moment can’t wait for Dad to get home,” which didn’t really speak to me since I had two working parents. After the tag line was reintroduced in the 1990s and trademarked in 1992, “Kodak moment” became part of the popular lexicon.

When I became a mother in 1997, I saw Kodak moments everywhere. I have two large file boxes of print pictures recording every gesture and every milestone from the first 24 months of my son’s life, arranged chronologically (with index tabs). I sometimes wonder if the house was in flames whether I’d have time to grab them from the closet before I dashed up the fire ladder to the roof. Now of course my husband and I can take pictures with our iPhones. Note to file: Put them in Dropbox.

All of our lives are filled with Kodak moments. When she died my grandmother left behind more snapshots than any other single possession. I hadn’t realized that she was not only the family matriarch — she was also the family archivist.

Some were poorly exposed, blurry photos of people who we couldn’t identify in locations we didn’t recognize. But others are cherished keepsakes. The experience of going through these photos provided me with significant comfort and inspired the cover of my book, Estate Planning Smarts.

I asked Laura Zavetz, who designed the book, to come up with a cover that graphically conveys a life well lived, even as the text deals with the subject of mortality. Our concept for the cover was to replicate the experience of opening a drawer after someone has died and having pictures spill out. Friends and family helped by emptying their shoeboxes of pictures and sharing their own Kodak moments.

The term “Kodak moment” has earned a spot in The Online Slang Dictionary, which defines it as “a moment worthy of capturing with a photograph, especially an adorable moment.” But will it lose its place there now that Eastman Kodak has filed for protection from its creditors under Chapter 11 of the U.S. bankruptcy code?

Angelo should retire before Hanie's offense gets him fired

Hanie appears to have little feel in the pocket. He also appears to have no ability to generate a consistent rhythm. He holds the ball too long and has yet to figure out that shuffle-slide move in the pocket that Cutler uses to keep plays alive.

But wait. There’s more. He’s regularly high and wide over the middle. He regularly overthrows wide-open pass catchers.

Hanie can’t play in the NFL. Not for a team that has playoff hopes, anyway. Martz apparently figured this out a lot sooner than Angelo. How did Angelo play this one so idiotically? How long have the Bears been feeding Hanie?

Bears coach Lovie Smith, of course, thought Hanie showed improvement Sunday. What Hanie showed was he could play less badly. He threw for 115 yards on 12-of-19 passes. There was not a 20-yard completion in the bunch.

“They weren’t terrible ,’’ Smith said, and I’m thinking, that’s like focusing on the interesting green hue of the road apple in question.

But I guess anything short of three interceptions counts as improvement in Smith’s half-full glass of hemlock.

So, Martz has been forced to design a game plan that directs the player in the most important position on the team not to lose the game.

Interesting timing for that story about Jerry Angelo’s potential retirement, huh?

Angelo’s choice to back up the most important position in the game is someone who has forced the coaches to resort to a game plan that cannot score. Hanie Bears have one touchdown in the last two games and have converted two third downs in the last two weeks. Just to clarify: not a good thing.

Angelo’s choice to back up the most important position in the game is someone the coaches cannot trust to win a game. Hanie’s Bears have lost three in a row.

If you want to blame Hanie’s tools, then you can nail Angelo for failing to assemble a respectable corps of wide receivers, too. I mean, Devin Hester as a No. 1 receiver is a joke, and a joke seems like a probable Angelo legacy. We're fidning out hows much better Jay Cutler made those mediocre receviers and deodorized Angelo's awful personnel decisions.

And then there’s Angelo’s choice of a No. 2 running back who doesn’t know how to stay in bounds or hold on to the ball when it matters most.

And don’t forget that offensive line. High draft choices on the line get hurt or stink, or both. The rest of it looks like Angelo was playing Rubik’s Cube. Or maybe he was seeking draft advice from a Magic 8-Ball.

How embarrassing has it been that Angelo could be smart enough to make the deal that landed Jay Cutler and repeatedly prove dumb enough not to ensure he was protected? You don’t buy a diamond and then try to have it set at White Castle.

Quick, someone tell Angelo there’s no rule against drafting capable backups. T.J. Yates and Tyler Palko have won more games than Angelo’s No. 2 quarterback. Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk.

Angelo tried to knock down talk of his potential retirement Sunday morning, but by Sunday evening, the Bears offense that reeks of Angelo’s geniusness promptly put a jet pack on it.

Blizzard’s plans to satisfy their fanbase and still deliver a fresh experience

Waiting in the lobby of Blizzard’s Irvine headquarters, I was overcome by nostalgic reverence. Where most businesses have a mountain of months-old magazines, Blizzard has a museum. It was nothing too extravagant, mind you, but the frames lining the walls were like windows to my childhood. Each piece of classic Diablo art conjured up fond memories of the franchise that’s marking its 15th birthday this November.

It wasn’t always this way, however. Blizzard certainly didn’t begin its existence as a gaming giant responsible for both this generation’s Dungeons & Dragons and the game that has become South Korea’s national sport. Over the years, the company has seen both growth spurts and growing pains, both successes and, er, whatever Warcraft Adventures was. Many incredibly talented people have come and gone.

This is the environment Diablo III has evolved in. To track its development is to see a balancing act made all the more precarious by countless shifts and upheavals. One thing, however, has always remained constant: fandom. I’m not just referring to Diablo’s near-militant community—Diablo’s story is one of diehard dedication on both sides of the table. Most of the original Diablo team, you see, is now gone. In its place is a band of folks who grew up playing Diablo and Diablo II as fans, just like you or I. Now they’re shaping the franchise’s present and future, but—thanks to that ridiculously passionate community—they’re also trying their damndest to avoid losing sight of the past.

“When we started, we really inherited this big scary game,” explained game director Jay Wilson. “There are very few of us who actually worked on the previous Diablo games, so a lot of us came at it more as fans. When you’re building something that you didn’t originate, the struggle that you have is, how do you remain true to it while also being true to your own creative nature? If you make something, you can’t just copy. You have to infuse it with your own personality, your own interests, your own opinions, your own desires. If you don’t, then it will be soulless.”
It almost seems fitting—a game about, you know, the devil that sells its own soul. Sorry, though, Satan: this just isn’t your day.

Everybody’s had those first moments with a new game that really define the entire experience. Diablo III’s origins, then, lie not in some linear extension of the original Diablo’s creative vision, but in those player-driven experiences. Hearing Wilson describe his love affair with the first Diablo drove that point home.

“It was when I bought Warcraft II,” he said. “On the back of the CD case they had an ad for Diablo. It had a picture of the warrior with his sword and shield, standing in front of the church door with the red light streaming out of it. That image was so compelling to me that I wanted to play that game. I didn’t even know what it was and I wanted to play it. I remember, back then there was so little information. You just didn’t know a lot about games before they came out. So to have an image so compel me, I always remember that.

“The day I installed it, I told my wife ‘You need to leave the house, because it’s Diablo time now.’ ‘Diablo’ spoken in hushed tones. And it was all the classic moments: the first encounter with the butcher, the first encounter with the Skeleton King, the first time a hundred goatmen come running at you and you manage to survive by the skin of your teeth. The first time you griefed somebody who was your teammate. There are all those great moments that I think everyone had.”

Hindsight, however, stops being 20/20 when rose-tinted glasses are involved. For Wilson and the rest of Diablo III’s development team, avoiding that trap is the biggest challenge. When is it appropriate to give diehard fans precisely what they want? And—perhaps more importantly—when do you fire back with a stern “No”?

Toy Hall of Famers: Dollhouse, Hot Wheels, blanket

The blanket, an all-purpose plaything and a comfort for generations of thumb-suckers like Charlie Brown’s best friend in the “Peanuts” comic strip, landed Thursday in the National Toy Hall of Fame along with Hot Wheels and the dollhouse.

The three take their places at The Strong, a children’s and cultural history museum in upstate New York, alongside 46 other classics ranging from the bicycle, kite and teddy bear to Barbie, Jack-in-the-Box and Mr. Potato Head.

Curators said the blanket was a special addition in the spirit of two earlier inductees, the cardboard box and the stick. They praised its ability to serve either as recreational raw material or an accessory transformed in myriad ways by a child’s daydreams.

“Every now and again we like to shake things up, remind folks there’s play experiences that happen purely creatively ... rather than coming with rules, a path, a backstory you feel constrained into,” said Christopher Bensch, the Rochester museum’s chief curator.

“Blankets have been keeping people warm for centuries, but they’ve also been heating up kids’ imaginations,” serving as magic carpets and superhero capes, a peek-a-boo veil, a chair-draped fortress or “an island of safety surrounded by sea monsters.”

For Linus, the comfort imparted by his precious blue blanket blends with its “play function” as a lasso, a whip, a Snoopy towrope and, in later adventures, “when he talks about turning his blanket into a sports coat when he grows up,” Bensch said.

Longevity is a key criterion for getting into the 13-year-old hall, which was acquired in 2002 from A.C. Gilbert’s Discovery Village in Salem, Ore. Each toy must be widely recognized, foster learning, creativity or discovery through play, and endure in popularity over generations.

Trying to create a toy that would be as big a success with boys as Barbie was with girls, Elliot Handler hit upon an idea for miniature die-cast vehicles with sleek designs. Hot Wheels were introduced in 1968 and the brand became a big hit.

Handler, who died in July at age 95, grew Mattel Inc. into the nation’s largest toy maker along with his wife, Ruth, who created the Barbie doll in 1959.

The dollhouse evolved from 16th-century “baby houses,” wooden cabinets in which wealthy European women displayed their collections of miniature furnishings.

German toy makers produced variations for youngsters to furnish with tiny chairs, tables, beds, tapestries and floor coverings and, by the 19th century, mass-production methods enabled dollhouses to grow in popularity.

“The dollhouse has gone on to hold a special place in the hearts of children everywhere,” said Patricia Hogan, the museum’s curator of toys and dolls. “From the most elaborately crafted mansions to the simplest home-made structures, the dollhouse gives kids an ideal environment for creative play, from furnishing and refurnishing rooms, making up stories and collaborating with friends and siblings.”

More than a few heavyweight nominees fell short in 2011, including the puppet, the pogo stick and Rubik’s Cube.

The Find: Coffee Tomo

The tagline for Coffee Tomo, a cafe that opened a few weeks ago off the main drag of Sawtelle Boulevard's mini Japan Town, might be: coffee specialists and slightly manic pretzel innovators. Think fresh-baked, intricately structured pretzels stuffed with red beans and cheese.

The walls of the brand new, immaculate shop are clean white and dark brown wood — "the color of coffee," explains owner Kibum Sung. Sung is a former landscape architect who designed every element of the shop. "I wanted to make it warm, wanted people to walk in and smell the coffee and feel comfortable."

Sung is Korean-born and Japan-educated. Everything here bears Sung's very conscious design aesthetic, from the spare, careful arrangements of coffee paraphernalia on dark wooden shelves to the painstakingly ordered row of jars, showing coffee beans at each stage of roast. The kendo swords high on the shelves are Sung's too; he's a second-dan black belt. But then there's his food: his version of pretzels stuffed with the post-Western Asian-pop madness.

The best thing here might be the pretzel stuffed with sweet potato and cheese: crispy on the outside, utterly soft on the inside, strands of stretchy mozzarella folded around sweet, molten sweet potato puree. It's a deliriously joyous creation.

Sung hand-makes every pretzel to order, rolling it into a baroque arrangement of whorls and folds and curlicues, and bringing it to your table straight from the oven. Where else can you get a pretzel made with this level of devotion?

More adventurous palates should try Sung's favorite: a pretzel stuffed with red bean and cheese, the most lunatic of the stuffed pretzel fillings. The flavors barely cohere, but they make a weird sort of uneven magic, chunky bits of slightly sweetened Asian red bean clinging to strands of mozzarella. The experience is balanced right on the slightly bewildering, charming knife's edge between a sweet and a savory snack — an Asian dessert that wandered into a calzone.

Sung made up these combinations himself, based loosely on stuffed pretzels he'd seen in South Korea. "I have confidence in my pretzels," Sung says.

But for the coffee arts, he turns to Tommy Kim, head barista and master of the roast. Kim roasts all their beans in the large red Diedrich roaster right in front. Kim is also cheerful and completely coffee-obsessed, and he runs at high speed around the shop, chatting with customers about the details of their drink and his former life as an opera singer.

Kim makes the dripped coffee with light-roasted beans, for maximum varietal detail. But for the espresso, he uses his own peculiar mix: one bean varietal, at three stages of roast. "The light roast gives it the sour, the medium gives it the full body and the sweet, and the dark roasting gives it that dark chocolate flavor. I wanted all the flavors, so I mix," Kim says. It's nontraditional, but it makes for a beautiful pull: a high-toned, piercing, slightly schizophrenic but very happy shot of espresso.

Kim makes excellent Italian-style drinks, but he can be talked into making a cappuccino in a style he learned in Japan: espresso with a little foam, a little raw sugar and a cinnamon stick. "It gives it the aroma of cinnamon but not the flavor," Kim says. This is very important to him. He hands you your cappuccino and demands that you stir it up vigorously with the cinnamon stick. "Faster! Faster!" Kim says. "Change the color! More brown! More!"

But for the most ludicrously fun experience of all, order a honey butter bread. This is a very large hunk of white bread, sliced into nine perfect cubes, every face toasted to a crusty golden brown, then re-assembled into a square and topped with a huge pile of fresh whipped cream. It's like some sort of Modern art, negative-space version of a Belgian waffle — obviously the work of a landscape architect set loose in the kitchen.

The result is somehow utterly refined and gleeful at once. It's like the most delicate cinnamon toast imaginable, eggy and spongy and crisp. You spear each cube with your fork, carefully roll it in whipped cream and, slowly, cube by perfect cube, demolish the whole thing. It will delight your inner child and your inner geometer at the same time.