Olivier @olivierlefloch - Tumblr Blog

alfred-itunes-playback-workflow - An Aflred.app workflow to control repeat and shuffle in iTunes

For those hoping to get more out of Alfred's iTunes integration, I've just forked Caio Gondim's Alfred Workflow to handle shuffle and repeat, and will keep on improving it. Feel free to suggest features!

If you find yourself with an AVCHD file and wanting to extract the individual video files (say to use them in iMovie...), you may not need to use one of the painfully expensive or buggy converter apps on the App Store, as the AVCHD format is actually simply a folder hierarchy, recognized as a package on OS X1. So just right click it and select "See Package Contents", then again on the BDMV folder, and then you'll have access to your video files in the STREAM folder.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/AVCHD#Overview ↩︎

Relaxed.

godzillalefilm

par Bichet

davemorin

The Minuum Keyboard Project

stoweboyd

Sweet. A Real breakthrough.

parislemon

Skeptical, but I would love for something like this to work and take off.

olivierlefloch

Looks great, particularly love the motion based text input.

parislemon

Apple has been known to poke fun at itself by showing a comical video before an event. Something tells me they won’t be showing this one though.

Wow. Just. Wow.

(via @StevieWLevin)

merlin

LEAKED Official Apple iPhone 5 Promo Video - Keynote 2012

This will help a lot of people.

[via]

And ideally, before resetting a password by phone, they’d send a forced “Find My”-style push alert to all registered devices on the account saying something like, “Apple Customer Service has received a request to reset your iCloud password. Please call 1-800-WHATEVER within 24 hours if this is unauthorized.” Then make the person call back the next day. If you forget your password and the answers to your security questions, it’s not unreasonable to expect a bit of inconvenience.

http://www.marco.org/2012/08/07/how-apple-and-amazon-security-flaws-led-to-my-epic-hacking

I can’t even say what’s wrong with PHP, because— okay. Imagine you have uh, a toolbox. A set of tools. Looks okay, standard stuff in there. You pull out a screwdriver, and you see it’s one of those weird tri-headed things. Okay, well, that’s not very useful to you, but you guess it comes in handy sometimes. You pull out the hammer, but to your dismay, it has the claw part on both sides. Still serviceable though, I mean, you can hit nails with the middle of the head holding it sideways. You pull out the pliers, but they don’t have those serrated surfaces; it’s flat and smooth. That’s less useful, but it still turns bolts well enough, so whatever.

http://me.veekun.com/blog/2012/04/09/php-a-fractal-of-bad-design/

Jarvis was inspired by works of Bret Victor, especially his talk Inventing on Principle. The central idea is that the feedback loop when you are coding should be the shortest possible, so you can see the effect of your code changes instantly, or almost.

http://madlag.github.com/jarvis/

Overall, I like "Lord of the Rings." However, I do feel that Tolkien kind of rips off "Harry Potter" in many ways. There are several parallels, such as elves, dwarfs, wizards, goblins, trolls, magic (especially invisibility), etc. Sauron is referred to as “Dark Lord” just like Voldemort is. There is also the elder white-haired bearded wizard who serves almost as a mentor, Gandalf, who is reminiscent of Dumbledore. Some of the character names are similar, such as Wormtongue as opposed to Wormtail, too. There is even a gigantic spider (Shelob) at the end of "The Two Towers" that reminds one of Aragog from "Chamber of Secrets." I even noticed that the plots of both series begin with the protagonists’ birthday. Now I see that Tolkien, this unoriginal bastard, is coming out with "The Hobbit" in December. This would be fine, but why didn't he just write this book first to begin with? I still like "Lord of the Rings," though--don't get me wrong--but I wonder if Tolkien has ever said in interviews whether he borrowed elements from Harry Potter. I’ll be watching the extended DVDs later this week and I think he’s featured on the commentary track, so I look forward to that.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0167260/board/thread/200569422?d=200569422#200569422

Child labor and anti-smoking ads done right.

Something about it felt familiar... _Also, "Oops, excuse me just a second", really?_

When Siri launched on the iPhone 4S, it’s one of the few times I know of — perhaps the only time — where Apple shipped a “beta” product to consumers (as it still remains today). But it was a smart move, because it allowed Apple to begin containing Google in search on Apple’s own devices. Siri would decide where a search should go, and it didn’t always go to Google (side note: Google’s deal with Apple clearly didn’t anticipate or require Google be the default for voice search, only for Safari search). That containment wasn’t something average consumers widely understood, I’d say. To them, Siri was just some cool new tool that let you ask your iPhone for stuff. It was a subtle way to dump Google without consumers ever realizing that Apple dumped Google.

http://searchengineland.com/apple-google-themonuclear-124620

#tumblr #safari-extensions

Back to where it all began

# Year 2164, now. The sky was blue, cloudless, and red near the horizon. The sun still shone brightly though, and was reflected by the metallic roofs of the long warehouses extending below the ledge Ernie Faurtoo was standing on. Pebbles rolled down the slope to his left. Looking up, he saw it was the Levcar construction team that was working late hours. Soon, the automated expressway would connect Delhi to Beijing. He could distinguish a couple of modern models, but most were at least twenty years old, outdated ten years ago in most parts of the world. Still, the expressway was an amazing achievement. It would be thousands of miles long, and would be built in only two years’ time. Switching back to his earlier thoughts, he turned his head towards the depots. At the edge of his vision he caught sight of more tumbling pebbles. He tracked one as it bounced downhill, brushing a blossoming flower's petal, ricocheting off an ant's carapace, rolling to a stop near an early dewdrop several hundred meters away from where he was standing. Of course, even in the dim evening light, he could see all of this with no difficulty. A noise behind him made him turn to see Estie Wonine approaching softly. He greeted her, as usual, with their very efficient and secure coded language, which might be thus transcribed : “Hello. You are RNI-42, aren't you?” “Yes, I'm RNI-42. You are ST-19, aren't you?” “Yes, I'm ST-19. How did yesterday go?” “Very well. I met ED-12-U. We agreed to do it two days, three hours, and seventeen minutes from now.” “Perfect. Even if the humans erred before, they do not deserve to be treated thus. So you obtained the clearance for the shuttle?” “Yes. Everything is accounted for. You know, however, that I do not agree with you that humans were acting wrongly.” “Yes, I know. Perfect then. ST-19, over.” “RNI-42, over and out.” As silently and smoothly as she had arrived, Estie Wonine disappeared in the darkening shadows, soon followed by Ernie. Satisfied with the thought that they would soon free the human race, held captive in the gigantic hangars below, he went back to his robotic construction team. “Two hundred more miles. Today, and tomorrow. And then, freedom for all.” #Year 2112, fifty-two years earlier. Uprooting weeds in her yard all afternoon had left old Mrs Dalloway exhausted. She was now watching the sun set while enjoying a limeade in her recliner. The sunset's slightly fluorescent purple streaks upset her, and as usual, she expressed her thoughts to her faithful cat: “You know, Shirley, things weren't like this 80 years ago… First of all, you could water your plants whenever you wanted. And you could take care of a real vegetable garden, and not be scared about free radicals, and heavy metallic compounds, and getting cancer, and…” “Miaow!” “Oh. Mhh, you must be hungry, too, after chasing that awful cockroach all around here… Wait a second, I'll go fetch you something right away, sweetheart.” Getting up slowly, so as not to further tire out her sore back, Mrs Dalloway went around her reclining chair, all the while continuing to grumble about the turn the world around her had taken in recent years : “You know, Shirley, things were really different back then. And Charles shouldn't have died like he did. People really only care about the money, and don't care at all about their employees…” She stumbled suddenly, as a great shadow completely obscured the world around her. Falling backwards, she felt herself being caught by unyielding arms, her vision blurring and rapidly turning pitch black. Losing consciousness, she wondered if this was how it all ended, dismayed that she hadn't said goodbye to Shirley. She woke up on a comfortable bed. Shirley was sitting next to her on the soft sheets, gently licking her hand. She got up with difficulty, sat up on the bed's edge, looked around. Outside the large windows, she could see a magnificent winter mountain view, but she quickly understood the viewports were merely screens playing a very realistic but short video loop. Looking around once more, she noticed there were no doors and no real windows… She was in a cage, albeit a very comfortable one. Approaching the desk at the center of the large, circular apartment, she grazed the controls to change views. Grumbling, she searched for an explanation. Despair filled her heart as she found it. Permanently engraved on the cold marble stone was a simple motto : “Humans are to be protected at all costs.” #Year 2101, sixty-three years earlier. “Another one Benny!” Edmund Stutterford cried out, hailing his friend Benny Qivkev across from him on the other side of the dimly lit pub. Realizing the loud cymbal and flute music had almost certainly covered his words, the lean, young man stood up, his head brushing the ceiling, looking fleetingly around to see if anyone might take his seat. No one was too close. There were plenty of other free tables, and most were cleaner than his. His was tumbler-cluttered, and he might have trouble setting even one more glass down on it. Anyway, that didn't really matter. What mattered was to get one more beer. He glanced back at Benny, getting ready to walk to the counter, when his eyes met a tanned bald head. The middle-aged man was also turned towards the barman, probably pondering ordering a drink. Edmund, hesitating for a second — was he a Watcher? No, his baldness and the tattoos on his left arm were proof enough — cautiously walked over to his table, careful not to knock over any of the seemingly unstable chairs and tables on his way. He had to recover from the alcohol’s effects if this conversation was to be as productive as he intended it to be. He had already spoken to such adventurous men — pilots and miners — Elemeseekers as they called themselves, seekers of elements. Of course he didn't need them for what they were usually good at. Searching for rare elements, finding better places to build factoribs, deploying the newest robot models, ever expanding the Human Dominion. Helping push back the borders of the unexplored and unconquered Universe was not what he needed one of them for. “Hello,” Edmund said, his voice steadier than his gait had hinted, “may I disturb you for a second? I will not be long, and what I have to say may be of great interest to you.” And if it wasn't, Edmund thought, he would have to flee the planet as fast as possible, before the Watchers were informed. The man turned to face him squarely. He sized Edmund up, his stare scanning the short curly fair hair, the trendy clothes, the countenance and awkwardly concealed nervousness. Sensing he was not going to be rebuked, Edmund chose not to wait for an answer. He pulled up a nearby chair and sat next to his new acquaintance, careful to sit where he could keep an eye on most of the people in the room. “Can I offer you something to drink?” he asked. Once more, without waiting for an answer, he raised his hand, turning to Benny, and shouted much louder than before, “Benny, two Gents over here, please!” This time he had been heard. Everything was going so well. He was no longer drunk. The thrill of presenting his thoughts had galvanized him once more. His ideas were quite clear now : “Do you sometimes wonder why all this is happening, all the great speeches about hard work, taking on new challenges, thinking not about oneself but about the well being of society as a whole? Why are we completely denied the right to have a family or relationships outside of work? Why can't we make our own choices?” “Sir? I don't even know your name, my friend, and… I'm quite sure this sort of conversation is considered Unapproved,” said the Elemeseeker, leaning in towards Edmund, his eyes contradictorily showing his interest. “I'm sorry, I… got carried away. My name is Edmund Stutterford, until recently I was a student at Alpha Centauri 2074 University,” he explained, and then lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper. ”But yes, this conversation is obviously unapproved, even though I wish to explore it more deeply. It is necessary that I explore it more deeply with someone who has your talent.” Seeming suddenly to regret his former apparent interest, the bald-headed pilot drew back. “I'm afraid I can't talk with you any more. Are you insane? There are reasons why we should not talk of these things!” “No, you are mistaken, we should want to know more about family, about love, about ourselves. I can show you.” Edmund knew this was the person he wanted to show this to. He had never done this before. Conversations had rarely worked out much better than this one had, so he knew this was the one. Never had an Elemeseeker showed interest in his assertions. He slipped a hand under his jacket, ready to get the old document out from under its gray linen hideout. Proof of his claims was in this old paper, he thought, just as a firm hand ominously pressed down on his shoulder. “Good evening sirs. Halna Watchers, Omega Division. Please be kind enough to follow us. We have orders from Cantor, The Supreme Overseer, to take you into custody,” the metallic figure said, indicating the logo inscribed on his chest. Under it was written : “Our sole goal : To protect humans.” #Year 2059, a hundred and five years earlier. Assistant-professor Georgius Sørvágs looked over to where professor Istvan Kővacs was standing, right in front of the only mediavision display in the screen-filled room. “Humh, Istvan, I can't see the preliminary figures with you standing in front of them!” “Oh, sorry Georg, I… Oh, my, do you see that? More than 50% for Cantor? That's unbelievable.” “Hey, what’d you think, that guy's a genius. He got us to get the new models out right in time for the presidential elections, didn't he?” Looking outside IBMSoft's Thomas J. Watson Research Center, the two A.I. Systems Integration engineers could see several of these helpers mowing the vast lawn, while the gardeners concentrated on embellishing an extravagant bed of flowers. Behind the hedge, in the building facing them, they could just barely make out colleagues speaking together while a robot was printing out reports for them. “Yes indeed. And after that, his opponents' arguments that robots were the most dangerous thing seemed stupid. Really. I just hope we'll get the sixth-gen mainframe up soon, or else we might be up against a computing power deficiency here… Did you hear that they expect commands to increase tenfold in the coming years? Of course here we see many robots, but it seems this tendency might really spread…” “Wait a second Istvan, look here again,” said Georgius, interrupting the older man, pointing to the screen in front of them : “One should note that the drastic score increase for Peter Cantor has very closely followed the self-conscious humanoid robot demonstration made by IBMSoft and ABB Sweden last week. The local results' upload to the central server is being completed as I speak, and we should in a couple of seconds have the election's final tally. We'll be back in an instant, after this interlude!” the MedV announcer transitioned into a dull commercial about some new high-tech amusement park on the East Coast. “I wonder if he'll do better than Reagan in 84… He was impressive, and a great man, too. He marked a turn in the last century, started the downfall of the Soviet Union, you know, bringing freedom, in a way, to all the people stuck behind the Iron Curtain,” Istvan explained. His father had told him that over and over again. “Heh,” chuckled his assistant. “You know, your analogy might not be that off track. He most certainly will change our world, freeing people from their day to day chores, helping them concentrate on innovation and creativity,” Georgius said, turning back to the Media Vision screen. The commercial came to an end, and in a flurry of bright colors streaking across the screen, the presenter came back into view : “Welcome back, dear viewers, we now have the final results,” the good-looking host announced, pointing at pie charts that were appearing in front of him, floating in mid air, almost completely filled with red. “Peter Cantor, the Republican candidate, wins the 2059 American Presidential Elections with 70% of the popular vote, and all of the Presidential Electors' votes. After the early resignation of President Earl L. Cramer, and the application of the 35th amendment, his unelected Vice President had to organize—” “Istvan, this is unbelievable! Do you realize Cantor just won the elections with 70% of an 80% voter turnout? That means that more than half the country supports him! Oh, there, it’s him!” “Thank you, thank you very much,” started Peter Cantor, obviously elated by his historical victory, “I want to thank you all greatly, because I know you are all behind me when I say robots and artificial intelligence are going to save us all. They are, today, promising amazing developments and discoveries for tomorrow. We must embrace their dynamics, be leaders once more as America once was in the past. Like the Apollo program yesterday, today I announce the Hermes program. Robots shall be our guides. This, my dear friends, is my main goal for years to come.” #Year 2040, a hundred and twenty-four years before. He looked across the table, impatiently. Delicious smells were pouring out of the dishes set on the neighboring tables. She met his hard stare. “It won't be long now, Peter.” “Maybe, but it already has been quite…” Stopping in mid-sentence, realizing this wasn't going to lead him anywhere, the business suit clad man passed a hand through his graying hair. His eyes settled on the three portraits on the wall nearest to their table, to his left. They were of three women, all dressed in early Renaissance garments. The paintings blended well into the old restaurant's classical setting : Louis XIV style furniture, elegantly dressed, polite waiters. One of the ladies was obviously much wealthier. “You know, we may win the contract after all.” “Oh! That wouldn’t be such a surprise, after the recent news articles and all the media coverage!” “Yes, but… You know what? Let's not talk about this, either. We’re looking towards great success. That’s what counts.” Turning back to his paintings, he realized how his conviction that robots were the future was being confirmed more and more often. He had known for years that they were better than humans. More careful, more precise, more reliable and dependable. They wouldn't kill or destroy their planet. Wondering once again what a world coordinated by robots would look like, Peter Cantor winced when a clumsy waiter entered the room with their elaborate “Lobster Bellyband”. He could easily imagine a robot in his place, indistinguishable from his flesh counterpart. Except it would not risk stumbling or hitting another table. It would be perfect. #Year 2006, a hundred and fifty-eight years before. “Hey! The hangar was empty just minutes ago!” exclaimed one of the five men who had entered the huge metallic structure to discover the large shiny space ship that stood in the center of the vast space. They would be starting to assemble the booster this afternoon. Turning to his friends, ready to ask why he hadn't been informed of this change of plans, Freddy saw them all fall backwards together, as if hypnotized. Slowly rotating back towards the spaceship, he barely had time to catch a glimpse of the two humanoid figures walking out from behind it before losing consciousness. “It seems the ξ-wave works fine here, too, RNI-42.” “Indeed ST-19, it does. I think our goal is not far from here; it’s three miles south, at most.” “Let's hurry then.” Only minutes later, after having passed Kennedy Space Center's high security systems, and uncaringly triggered all existing alarms, the two robots from another era arrived in the engineers' housing district. Obviously knowing very well which direction to go in, they found themselves on the first floor of a 3-story building staring at a young boy in front of them, who was nervously thumbing a wristlet with his name engraved on it. The little Peter screamed just as they were about to prevent things from happening as they would, to end this once and for all, and he ran into the adjoining room. Hesitating on their next move, getting ready to pursue the boy, the two robots made the terrible mistake of not paying attention to the sound behind them. As the high voltage electric shock garbled their inner systems, irremediably destroying their electronic brains, the two robots had one last thought. For their crushing defeat, and their failure to save the human race. #Year 2040, a hundred and twenty-four years earlier, once more. He looked across the table, impatiently. Delicious smells were pouring out from the dishes set on the neighboring tables. She met his stare. “It won't be long now, Peter.” “Maybe, but it already has been quite…” Stopping in mid-sentence, realizing this wasn't going to lead him anywhere, the business suit clad man passed a hand through his graying hair. His eyes settled on the three portraits on the wall nearest to their table, to his left. They were of three women, all dressed in early Renaissance garments. The paintings blended well into the old restaurant's classical setting : Louis XIV style furniture, elegantly dressed, polite waiters. One of the ladies was obviously much wealthier. “You know, after all they'll never win the contract.” “Oh! That comes as no surprise after the recent news articles and all the media coverage, does it?” “Indeed it doesn't. The true nature of robots is finally being revealed, and my speech tomorrow shall seal their fate.”

#on-the-underground-wall #uwall

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