I am not certain if this is a good idea or not, but I decided to set up a "work blog" as I set off on my new path as a digital library architect. The lines between this blog and that blog are fuzzy — most lines are, in my eyes — so bear with me. I've never been a prolific writer — it's always a chore, an activity I simultaneously want to do more of, and do better, and also struggle mightily with. (It's the public school education? HAR HAR!) But even so, the posts here may slow yet more. Or maybe that will be true of the new blog. We shall see.

I've found that microblogging has largely filled the blogging gap for me; I'm more comfortable, somehow, posting smaller, more easily digestible "thoughtlets" via Twitter/identi.ca/Facebook. Perhaps I've succumbed to attention deficit disorder, flitting from one tiny undeveloped idea to the next. It's probable but I digress.

If you're interested, you can follow along as I grapple with questions about digital library architecture. Comments are most welcome, both here and there, as always.

Has it really been two months? Why, yes, it has. Oh me, oh my. I have tried to stick somewhat loosely to a schedule of writing here once a month[1], but alas, April came and went and I simply made no time to write.

That's not entirely true; I did plenty of writing:

I wrote code. After a year of working on the World Digital Library project at $MPOW, we went live on April 21st. The last few weeks were very busy for the development team, but I did find a few moments to breathe and blink.

I wrote microblog updates. After months of trying to figure out what microblogging is all about[2], it found its way into my daily routine. When time is short or thoughts arise fast and fuzzy, microblogging is a useful public scratchpad.

I wrote slides. The kind folks over at the College and University Section of the New Jersey Library Association invited me to be a panelist at the 2009 NJLA conference. The panel addressed recentish developments in open source integrated library systems. I spoke about the Evergreen ILS[3] and my co-panelists spoke about Koha and the Open Library Environment Project.

And, ever the dutiful technologist, I wrote documentation. And that will be the subject of my next post.

Notes

1. Here I extend my hand and then imagine you, whomever you may be, smacking it ever so gently
2. Wondered: Is it IM? Status updates? Blogging? And how is it related to these? Concluded: it's a little of each, and somehow it fits my status/vanity/sharing needs perfectly.
3. Hat tip to Equinox Software Inc.'s Karen G. Schneider for her kind assistance.

I confess: prior to today, I had never heard of Ada Lovelace. A number of bloggers whom I follow wrote about Ms. Lovelace today, which is apparently Ada Lovelace Day: "an international day of blogging to draw attention to women excelling in technology."

Inspired by their words, I thought I would say my piece as well. And so, this being the first Ada Lovelace Day, I'd like to celebrate the woman who is most responsible for my own love of libraries[1] and technology: my mother, Diane. My mother is neither a technologist nor a mathematician, and I'm pretty sure she's not comfortable in front of a Python interpreter. She was an employee at Rutgers University's Alexander Library during their first automation efforts in the '70s, partly while I was in utero. I like to think that library automation entered my bloodstream through osmosis back in 1973 and I've been working at this, well, not quite since then, but long enough. More than that, she got me hooked on libraries many years ago through frequent trips to neighborhood libraries and also by including me, in snot-nosed kid form, in her genealogical research that took us to some rural Maryland libraries and, yes, the Library of Congress. This thirst for knowledge (not to mention her constant and unwavering support for me despite the wacky paths I've chosen over the years) is why I celebrate my mother today.

Notes

1. I realize Ada Lovelace Day is about technology, not about libraries, but I hope you'll give me some slack.

Former colleague Trevor Dawes has written a thorough piece about a name change proposed by the faculty of Rutgers' School of Communication, Information and Library Studies (SCILS). They have voted on and approved a new name, School of Communication and Information, and it is now awaiting approval from the Board of Governors.

Trevor received e-mail from a current SCILS faculty member after getting involved in a discussion of the name change on a listserv. I find part of that e-mail[1], specifically the rationale for the name change, absolutely puzzling:

We just have so many programs now — we can't possibly cover all of them in our school's name. School of Communication and Information is something of a compromise name, but it does encompass all our departments and programs in the school.

So in order to cover more programs, the name of the school ought to communicate less? Does dropping "Library Studies" somehow represent Journalism, Media Studies, and Informatics students more?

I fail to see how removing "Library Studies" makes the name of the school more meaningful. Why not follow this rationale to its logical conclusion, then, and shorten the name to School of Information? Or iSchool? Or how about "School?" Yes, that's it, "School!" Then all the departments and programs are equally well-represented. Huzzah, faculty!

I should be clear about my objection. I don't mind SCILS becoming an iSchool. In fact, I think my education there could have benefited from a more iSchoolish curriculum. But any problems with the school then were not related to the name, and I doubt they are now. What I object to is the oddball rationale for the name change, and the notion that in order to affect change and improve the school, well, clearly a change in name will do the trick! It's putting the cart before the horse, especially when the MLIS program lacks a core curriculum[2]. This is change in name only and that is perhaps a missed opportunity.

Notes

1. Taken out of context, true.
2. An opportunity for real change, though I will admit that there are good arguments against having one.

Lack of Talent, its hour come round at last, slouches towards podcastdom to be born.

It's late and I'm tired, so here's the skinny: at the beginning of the year I ambitiously[1] resolved to record one song per month. Instead I've serendipitously turned up the LOT recording sessions from July 2005, which we call the Burlap Overseas, and which I never really went through. Now that stuff is backed up six ways from Sunday[2] and I owe it to my fellow Lack of Talenteers to go through all these hours of raw audio and pick out some interesting bits so we have something to build on the next time we get together[3].

If you're interested, feel free to subscribe to the podcast and listen along. Updates will be sporadic, perhaps even spasmodic or spastic. Now the disclaimers: you should know that LOT was never about songs or practice or technique or order or music, really; we are true to our name[4]; it's about some friends gathering in my grandparents' basement with lots of music gear[5], even more alcohol, a box fan to keep us cool, a washing machine to clean Gramma's clothes, and a microphone that runs the whole darned time. This is booze-soaked sonic experimentation among close friends and even if you hear nothing else, you should hear hints (or squeals, or yawps) of joy amidst the cacophony.

Notes

1. Read: foolishly
2. Phew. I am a paranoid backup freak.
3. Est. 2013
4. At least I am
5. We switched instruments often, sometimes even playing the ones we could "play."

Dear elected representatives,

I write you as a voting constituent outraged by the possibility of Congress passing the so-called "bailout bill" put forward by Messrs. Bush, Bernanke, and Paulson.  I implore you, as my representative, to weigh carefully the options before you.

A vote to pass this bill is a vote of confidence in the George W. Bush administration and future administrations, whomever they may be.

It is a vote that abdicates Congress's constitutional duty to oversee the acts of the executive branch and provide checks against imbalances and abuses of power.

One cannot honestly decry the actions of the Bush administration, as Democrats have for nearly eight years, and then hand them the keys to the economy — not to mention $700B of hard-earned taxpayer money — merely because it is politically expedient.  There are greater ills than inaction.

Passages such as the following are reason enough to reject this plan outright.

Decisions by the Secretary pursuant to the authority of this Act are non-reviewable and committed to agency discretion, and may not be reviewed by any court of law or any administrative agency.

This is a constitutional travesty.

The plan itself is a shot in the dark; Messrs. Paulson and Bernanke themselves testified that it may or may not work, and that the $700B amount is just an estimate.  They may in fact need to appropriate yet more taxpayer money to bail out corrupt and incompetent investors.  With language like the above, Congress may be powerless to stop them, and by their own hand no less.  Most worrying is that when Congress lacks the power, so does the citizenry.

If Congress passes this bill and grants the executive branch the powers described within, the American people will have no legal recourse to stop the Department of the Treasury and the Federal Reserve from squandering their wealth.

I urge you, sirs and madams, to vote against any plan that would strip Congress of its oversight responsibility.  For this is your constitutional duty and is a key mechanism by which our republic functions.  When this duty is removed from the legislative branch, members of whom are elected directly by the people and serve at our pleasure, the government ceases to function as it was intended.

I cannot in good conscience support any member of Congress who would break his oath to support and defend the Constitution, and I, like most Americans, do vote my conscience.

P.S. Sorry for all the bold.

I know precious little about rights management.  And what I do know I have gleaned from the occasional Slashdot post or Wired article.  Former colleague Grace Agnew, Associate University Librarian for Digital Library Systems at Rutgers University, has put the wraps on a book about digital rights management targeted at librarians, Digital Rights Management: A Librarian's Guide to Technology and Practice (also available in paperback):

This book provides an overview of the current landscape in digital rights management (DRM), including: an overview of terminology and issues facing libraries, plus an overview of the technology (including standards and off-the-shelf products). It discusses the role and implications of DRM for existing library services, such as integrated library management systems, electronic reserves, commercial database licenses, digital asset management systems and digital library repositories. It also discusses the impact that DRM ‘trusted system’ technologies, already in use in complementary areas, such as course management systems and web-based digital media distribution, may have on libraries. It also discusses strategies for implementing DRM in libraries and archives for safeguarding intellectual property in the web environment.

If you're a librarian or information professional looking for an introduction to DRM, an underpinning for rights management strategy, or a refresher on rights management technologies, you might consider checking it out.

For full disclosure, I was one of several reviewers of this book.

I don't ordinarily post pictures around here but I am making an exception.  Elizabeth and I recently spent a week in Anchorage, AK, where my in-laws were gathered for a family reunion.  Eliz took a bunch of pictures and has uploaded a few to Flickr.

Boy, but it is gorgeous up there.  A fellow sure could get used to all those mountain vistas and free-range zucchinis (?!).

I have been meaning to write up some of my thoughts from the Revolution March and Rally and more generally on my evolving impression of the phenomenon that is the "Ron Paul Revolution," with which I have been involved to some small extent and fascinated to a larger extent.  I don't have the time or clarity for that just this moment.  But one of the things on my mind, spurred in part by Tom Woods's speech at the Rally and his new book, "Who Killed the Constitution?", is the tension that sometimes exists between "doing the right thing" and following the law as it was meant to be interpreted.

Reflecting on the constitutional transgressions of the executive and the judicial and the legislative branches, of the Democrats and the Republicans and the Whigs, I wonder what is the right action to take when the aims of justice are counter to those of moral rectitude.  Contrary to public opinion, the United States of America is not a democracy; we are a democratic federal republic, a constitutional republic, the operative word being "republic."  We ought not to bow to the whims of the masses, as in democracy — which, in the words of Benjamin Franklin, may be defined as "two wolves and a lamb voting on what to have for lunch."  Rather, we are subject to the rule of law, and the Constitution is the supreme law of the United States.  Whereas the Declaration of Independence breathed life into the union, the Constitution (and Bill of Rights) provided its skeleton and its life-blood.

What recourse do we have, then, when the Constitution prevents legislators, the judiciary, and the executive from doing what they, or the masses, deem "the right thing?"  Does the end, some morally sound outcome, justify the means even when the means involves sidestepping constitutional restraints?

We have a number of philosophical frameworks available to us to evaluate this issue — various theories of rights, justice, and morality — and I flit from one to the next with regularity.  If nothing else, I hope it enables me to see the many sides and nuances of the argument.  For instance, I might think that ending slavery was a moral necessity, that Brown v. Board of Ed. was a net win, that putting an end to the Nazi regime and liberating the concentration camps was the right thing to do.

But I'm also uncomfortable with the federal government's repeated stepping on the Constitution, its disregard for states' rights, and increasingly activist roles in excessively powerful executive and judicial branches. There are numerous examples,  many of which are in Woods's book: Adams's Alien and Sedition Acts, Lincoln's war against the secessionists, Wilson's Espionage and Sedition Acts, Truman's grab of the steel industry, the SCOTUS interpretation of the Equal Protection clause in favor of Brown v. Board, the examples go on and on.

When the framework for our very government is the Constitution, that which the government it was meant to restrain so openly flouts, I am taken to believe that we flirt with tyranny the more we side with rectitude over justice.  (I am playing a bit fast and loose as my time to write draws to a close by referring to the strict Constitutionalist perspective as that of "justice.")  I don't meant to hint here that the government ought not to have ended slavery, or kept the union together, and so forth, but that there were other, perhaps more difficult, ways of achieving these same ends within the bounds of the law as it was written.  When the government acts as though it is above the law, it establishes a very dangerous precedent.  The greater the amount of power in the government's hands, the less liberty in the people's — isn't this the tyranny our Constitution was supposed to protect us against?

It is often said that America is a grand social experiment, and I find myself agreeing.  Is the experiment predicated on America being a nation that strives to do right at all costs?  Or is it more about the lofty principles enshrined in our Declaration of Independence and codified in our Constitution, and how well our republic stands up to the natural progression towards empire, and towards tyranny?  I believe very strongly that the American Revolution is not bound in time but that it continues to this very day, and that the Constitution, and adherence thereto, is the very best chance we have to protect us from the base instincts of humanity and sustain a system of government that instead appeals to "the better angels of our nature," as Honest Abe would have put it.

I lament the greatest/crappiest dorkcore band (n)ever to have existed, Illegal Operation, with the stellar line-up of Major Crash on drums, General P. Fault on bass, and Colonel Dump on guitar.

It is rumored that there is some intersection between Illegal Operation, Lack of Talent, and Sausagebot.

P.S. Yes, I was (am) the (un-)esteemed Col. Dump.
P.P.S. I am woefully sleep-deprived this week.