Why is plasma/LCD screen picture quality so bad?

Having written blogs that touch on status anxiety, consumerism and other such things, I thought I should add something...

I don't think it's inconsistent to say that I love 'stuff' too. I'm not as bad as some but I feel the pull of latest computer technology, phones and MP3 players. No doubt. Millions of pounds are spent on making them as desirable as possible. I was sceptical about iPod hype, for example, but when I first saw one, it was just gorgeous.

Having said that, I still haven't invested in a proper MP3 player yet. I rarely have the money to buy these things but I like to see how they're developing. Typically of me, I listen to a little 1GB mini-player from Aldi. Not exactly cool - it's the Tevion 'sports' version with a rubberised case and a free mini-compass! - but I kinda love it for carrying 199 great songs in such a tiny package.

Anyway, as a big fan of film and television, AV products have a big pull too. DVDs were a big step forward for me - I'd known for a long time how unsatisfactory VHS was. They were so big and clunky and the picture quality was awful. The sheer clarity of film on DVD was a revelation - and still is.

For a few years, flat and wide CRT screens were the must-have feature for the Great British living room. But on visiting friends and family with these massive tellies, I started to notice how poor the picture quality was. I don't know why, but they were certainly less clear than my old 4:3 ratio Matsui CRT TV at home. When flat screen plasma and LCD screens started to emerge onto the market, I, like everyone else thought they were a great leap forward. Until I saw one in a shop. Again, the picture quality was rubbish.

My workplace bought a massive plasma screen a few years ago. God knows how much it cost but it looked 'the business' in the board room. It was great for PowerPoint presentations etc but then the World Cup happened in 2006. Trying to watch live action football on that thing was a nightmare. Extreme pixelation, blurred lines, massive shadows on the players - it was like watching the whole thing as a lo-res, badly compressed jpeg.

Now that these screens are all 'HD Ready', I thought I would finally see the beautiful clarity of the good old CRT. Nope. There's a marked improvement but even HD TV on the latest 1080i/p HD screens suffer from pixelation and mpeggy/jpeggy style artefacts. I dunno maybe I'm missing a trick somewhere because I seem to the only person to see it. Like lots of people, I remember twisting and turning the little circular wire aerial on a B&W portable to get a decent reception. I'm gonna wait a while before I pay the several hundred pounds required for an ultra-stylish backward steps.

I know I'm the only person who actually reads this blog, but if by some bizarre accident you are reading this and have noticed the same thing, please let me know. Or even better, if anyone can explain why picture quality on modern screens is so bad, please speak up!

UPDATE: I have since written a follow up to this blog. Read it here...

What Location, Location, Location really means

Imagine a TV programme about football. It’s full of people who talk about football and millions of people watch it because they’re interested in football. But it’s called Play, Play, Play and no-one ever mentions the word “football.”

Without knowing for sure (a consistent thread in my blogs) I think the term “Location, location, location” is the answer to, “What are the three most important things to remember when buying a house?” It became a cliché, and then a very successful TV programme on Channel 4.

It isn’t the format of the programme that bothers me, though I’m not a fan. It’s the fact that this phrase and the TV programme are a perpetuation of a hidden code.

When looking for somewhere to live, location isn’t actually that important. It’s been a long time since we lived according to proximity to water, food or the quality of the soil. A small number of people are lucky enough to choose somewhere according to the view or the scenery but most of us live and move within urban or sub-urban areas – and these areas are much the same, wherever they are.

The most important thing for most of us when choosing where to live is an area’s social status. And when we talk about social status we’re talking about the neighbours – people.

Location, Location, Location's recent list (October 2007) of the best and worse places to live in the UK was based on statistics. They included average rainfall or hours of sunlight but it was mainly crime, unemployment and health statistics, number of people claiming benefits and average local income. These are not assessments of an area. They’re assessments of the people living there.

It seems odd that we know exactly what we’re actually talking about, yet no-one mentions it by name. Let’s be honest. We’re talking about whether somewhere can be called home due to class, education, ethnicity, income and aspirations. We all do it, so why are we so afraid to call a spade a spade?

It's an example of how confused we all are about class and social status. It's also an example of how ideas of who is better than who prevail, and how taboo the subject of class has become. No matter how often mainstream political parties talk about classless societies, in truth, it's the last thing they want. We live in a very competitive world and status anxiety (to borrow Alain de Botton's phrase) is one of the ways we are encouraged to keep trying, buying and consuming.

The point of our economic and social system is to keep people unsatisfied. Inequality is vital, as is the feeling that we are being watched, judged and ultimately not quite good enough. If you have a mobile phone that works and fits in your pocket, why would you want to 'upgrade'? If you have enough clothes, why would you buy more? If you live in a city, why would you drive a Land Rover Discovery? If your child is learning to walk, why would you give them Nike trainers? And why don't see joggers anymore without an effing iPod strapped to their arm?? It's a code and a language and we're all fluent speakers.

I'd like us to be aware that we are making judgements according to class and status. Next time you meet someone new at a party, a meeting or anywhere else, ask yourself what you've learnt. In seconds, you'll have formed a first impression of where they are from, their economic background, their level of education and ultimately where they are on the social ladder. The other person has done the same to you - and we all want to make a good first impression.

It's exactly the same process when you're looking for somewhere to live. And these are the great un-mentionables behind Location, Location, Location. Not Phil's speech impediment or Kirstie's weight problem, but the status codes required to find the right place to live in a country and system riddled with status anxiety. Maybe Status, Status, Status would be a better title?

Quango chutney

Apologies for the title. It kinda describes what I want to blog about but it's a little tenuous. Anyway, does anybody remember the issue of quangos? It was a buzz word and political issue during the last, say, five years of the Tory government. Quangos are a Tory legacy and they have continued to flourish under (New) Labour.

In my muddled opinion, the Tories did everything they could do to break-up, fragment, fracture, dilute and destroy opposition. After strikes and political strife in the 1970s, reducing the power of trades unions was a Tory objective - and one with a certain amount of public support.

The miners' strike of 1984 is a good example of this clash of ideas. The miners were defeated and the end of one of the UK's last great traditional industries (far from its heyday) was guaranteed. It was part of a huge shift in British society.

Unlike the miners' strike, quangos have never resulted in pitched battles between workers and riot police - but their influence, alongside privatisation, is just as significant.

Throughout their 18 years in power, the Tories met considerable residence to their ideas and objectives from local government - ie. city and town councils. Big cities often remained Labour strongholds even when the Tories enjoyed good majorities in parliament - a form of proportional representation, in a way. Councils spend a good chunk of public money - and money is power.

To bypass this unwanted political influence on the running of schools, transport, libraries, public services and other aspects of everyday life, the Tories turned to the Quasi Autonomous Non Governmental Organisation - the quango. These 'agencies' popped up everywhere and were given the job of spending public money.

Inward investment agencies, development agencies, independent schools, highways agencies, hospital trusts etc etc. It was a highly effective way of reducing the unwanted influence of democratically elected councils.

Though far from perfect, councils are accountable to the electorate and subject to all kinds of checks and balances. They (are supposed to) follow strict guidelines on staff treatment and recruitment. They are also committed to union representation for their staff, set targets for things like equal opportunities and usually offer progressive employment terms and conditions. As small autonomous companies, quangos are able to side-step many of these things.

I was talking a while ago to someone who had recently returned to work after maternity leave. A colleague (whose children are now grown up) compared his/her own experience of returning to work at a local authority. To paraphrase:

"They were different times back then. We had flexi-time, plenty of annual leave, creche facilities and things just seemed easier."

You don't expect to hear that things were easier fifteen or twenty years ago. Without knowing for sure, I would guess that quangos have been a backward step for the rights of the employee. On this, I can speak personally. When my local authority job was ‘seconded’ to a quango, I lost flexi-time, two days annual leave a year (and the prospect of this increasing), overtime rates, an agreed and transparent salary scheme and a handful of other, small benefits.

Looking at things another way, quangos have de-politicised public spending and removed a layer of bureaucracy. That’s definitely a good thing. But a closer look at the workings of any British city will reveal a long list of quangos. Each has their own board of directors or governors and each with their own chief executive or managing director.

All quangos have to report to a board made up of business men and women, prominent locals, councillors, representatives of religious groups and any other interested parties and individuals. Yet none of these people need to be accountable to the public or face any democratic process to be there. So who guards the guardians?

This new layer of unelected bureaucracy has given rise to a whole generation of relatively unregulated directors and executives. It has also, I believe, provided a haven of nepotism, cronyism and corruption.

Ten years after the Tories, no-one really talks about quangos anymore. Labour use them to their advantage too. No democracy can really claim to be democratic for as long as there is (to borrow a phrase from Billy Bragg) power without accountability. And as millions, most probably billions, of pounds of public money is being spent by quangos every year, that’s an awful lot of power.

Anthony Wilson 1950-2007

Anthony Wilson died the other day. I was surprised how sad I felt about it.

I've never been a big fan. He seemed to have a certain vanity and his reputation as a godfather of Manchester music was a little irritating. I remember going to the Hacienda (never a big fan of that place either) and seeing a huge black and white portrait of Wilson hanging in the entrance/box office area. It struck me as an incredibly vainglorious thing to do. There's also the fact that the very best Manchester bands had nothing to do with Wilson or Factory records (The Smiths, The Stone Roses, The Chameleons).

Having said all this, if there was a voice of Manchester music, it was Anthony Wilson. There isn't really any competition. He was enormously influential and made a massive contribution to Manchester music. He achieved so much more than I ever have/will and he certainly made his mark on the world.

Moreover, after Joy Division/New Order and The Happy Mondays, Wilson was still working to 'score a hat-trick' (his own words) by discovering a third original band and making them successful. To do this he looked to the young, black music scene in Manchester's notorious Moss Side area - and not many other prominent music industry types have done that. I also know that up until just a few months ago, he was still actively promoting Manchester music internationally. I think he'll be sorely missed.

Wilson's death has another significance. There hasn't been a really good or original, new band from Manchester for about 15 years. Oasis simply don't count, Badly Drawn Boy is a solo artist and (as good as they are) Doves, Elbow and I am Klute are all of my generation. After the recent renaissance of bands (Franz Ferdinand, The Killers, Kaiser Chiefs, Bloc Party, Arctic Monkeys, Maximo Park, Arctic Fire etc etc) a good Manchester contribution was conspicuously absent.

So where are the new Manchester bands? I have a theory, although I don't know how convincing it is:

Renaissance Manchester
While Manchester was known as a grey, bleak, post-industrial wasteland, bands had something to counter. Creativity can often flow from the unlikeliest sources. The Smiths for example made greyness and misery an art form. The Stone Roses made the most jubilant and celebratory music at the time of Tories and Recession. Since Manchester's 'renaissance', the scallies of north and east Manchester, Wythenshawe and Salford aren't really welcome in Manchester's trendy bars and clubs. For all kinds of reasons, I think there is a degree of separation between these Manchester people and the city centre's latest inhabitants. Is it a coincidence that the 15 years of Manchester's renaissance are the same 15 years of very few successful Manchester bands?

It's a thought. But I hope that Anthony Wilson's death isn't indicative of a wider decline in Manchester music. I suppose it only takes one new idea to spark something original and creative - maybe a new Manchester music movement is just around the corner.

And maybe the new Anthony Wilson is just round the corner too - but I think he was a one off. I didn't expect to feel like this but I'm sad he's gone.

The unbearable falseness of work

I was talking to an ex-colleague some time ago. Before s/he left my place of work, s/he was a head of department and did a good job. I talked to them after a month or so in their new post and asked how it was going. I'm paraphrasing, but the candid answer went something like...

"I'm responsible for huge budgets and people keep asking me things. They come into my office and ask me to make decisions. I make a decision but I don't really know what I’m doing. I feel like a fraud."

First of all, I have no doubt that this person is very capable in their new job. But his/her comments are indicative of a state of mind I have stumbled upon before.

People go to work, do their jobs and look forward to going home. A lucky minority enjoy what they do, but let's face it, work is a necessity. We all fear repossession, the sack and destitution but the only thing we have of genuine value is time. Without time, we have nothing. And of this, work takes the lion's share.

So does work give us a sense of fulfilment and purpose for giving our time so willingly? Usually not. Even friends who enjoy their jobs confess to a sense of falseness (my word, not theirs). It's more than just a problem of identifying with the job they're paid to do. It's a sense of ‘playing at’ being a Head of Department, Marketing Executive, Graphic Designer or whatever the ‘grown up’ role may be.

Have you ever been in a meeting and felt the need to speak, even if you have nothing to say? If you've ever had this feeling, be assured that others do too. Next time you're in a meeting, assess how much talk is substance and how much is hot air. Most meeting room contributions come from the feeling of, "I'm in a meeting, I need to say something." Some people are just better at filling the space than others. Presentations are another example - I know what it's like to blag a presentation and I've witnessed my 'superiors' employ exactly the same techniques.

Amongst these best efforts to do the job is the niggling fear that it's all a bit of a blag.

This 'playing at' state of mind affects all levels. Your line manager, your boss, your chief executive have all felt the same. And it goes right to the top. I'm sure George W. Bush had to pinch himself when staff called him Mr. President for the very first time.

"So, let me get this straight. Air Force One is an airplane?"
"Yes, Mr. President."
"And that's my airplane?
"All yours, Mr. President."
"Okay. Sounds good…now, call me Mr. President again."
"Yes...Mr. President."

I think one of the reasons for this falseness is that we all have to adopt personalities to get a job in the first place. A job application is an exercise in sheer falseness. We answer cliché with cliché and over-egg our achievements if necessary. It doesn't mean that you don't care or that you aren't right for the job. It's just a skin we wear for the situation - and the interviewers jumped through the same hoops when they were interviewed. We all know it’s a game.

I'm sure this falseness of the professional world plagues millions. I'm subject to it too but wouldn't it be liberating to rid ourselves of it?

Man-flu

Over the last week or so, I've felt a little under the weather. No big deal, just a bit throaty, sniffly and snotty. But interestingly, it has highlighted (or maybe highlit?) the very contemporary concept of man-flu.

For those of you who don't know...
Man-flu is the same as any other kind of flu - or more accurately, the same as any other kind of cold. The concept of man-flu comes from the belief (usually held by women) that men make a big deal out of a simple cold. In other words, if a man and woman catch the same cold, the woman will battle on and the man will make a fuss.

From a very quick Google search, there doesn't appear to be any evidence that men are hypochondriacs. In fact, I found some evidence to suggest the opposite - but I'm sure there are contextual explanations for these results. The main point is the readiness to see issues, people or differences along gender political lines. There are differences between the genders - this is good. The sad part is the need to invent negative attributes - and maybe this is something we all share.

Like everyone else, if I dig deep enough in my own opinions, there will be negative stereotypes. These may be based on age, weight, gender, class, race, religion, nationality, sexuality or disability (to name just a few). These stereotypes can be learnt and/or implanted at any age. The hard thing is to root them out and the important thing is to challenge them.

I really don't want to misrepresent people and I wouldn't want to be misrepresented by others. For me, it's one of the most important parts of the Social Contract. Some misrepresentations are easier to spot than others but the whole man-flu thing is a bit of a no-brainer.

So next time you hear someone complaining about their cold symptoms, they may well be whinging. But does it need to be a gender issue?

Me and the Money God

A couple of weeks ago, I agreed to an offer from my bank to settle my claim for unfair bank charges. Shortly after, £558 turned up in my current account. As world finances go, this isn't a big deal but it was a tiny triumph for the little man (that's me).

While waiting for the money, thoughts turned to what I should do with it. I haven't had savings since I was a teenager so it was nice to have a small fund to consider. It seemed good sense to save around £300/350, buy a nice present for my girlfriend and spend the rest on a few treats.

A few days before the money was paid into my account, my beloved digital camera got a soaking. I was cycling in Scotland and the rain put a decisive end to the LCD display - and these days, cameras aren't much use without that. Also, a few days ago, my shower stopped working.

I'm a firm believer in 'make do and mend' but there is little chance of fixing the problems above without professional help. Alongside the £150 or so to replace the camera, and the unknown amount it will cost to fix the shower, around half of my bank settlement is already spoken for.

The idea of the Money God is taken from George Orwell's Keep the Aspidistra Flying. Its central character, Gordon Comstock, battles the Money God heroically and pointlessly but the idea resonated with me and I have viewed money in these relationship terms ever since.

The Money God and I will never be friends. He doesn't like me and I don't like him. I avoid contact with him and pay little attention to his needs. He gives very little in return and to be fair, I don't think I ask for much. However, my relationship with the Money God is massively imbalanced. So every now and again, he likes to throw little power trip reminders from his seat in the cash clouds.

He knows when I'm getting a little windfall (he knows everything) and decides to invent a few unforeseen expenses. The irritating thing is, as I get older I try harder and harder to play by his rules - amongst other things I got rid of my credit card and I don't go over-overdrawn anymore. I'd even decided to put most of my settlement money into savings. Yet he still seems angry.

So tomorrow morning, I'll phone a plumber and ask him to take a look at the shower. I'll put together with my girlfriend and buy a new camera and I'll still buy her a present. That will bring my little spree to an end and it will be like I never had the money in the first place. The Money God giveth and the Money God taketh away.

Update: I managed to avoid professional help and fixed the shower myself. It was my first attempt at plumbing and I'm delighted to say it was successful. More importantly it saved me a tidy sum on call out and labour charges.

Self improvement? Hmmmph.

Well, here's my first blog. I've decided to try one and see if it becomes something I want to do regularly. I tend to go on with myself to my girlfriend and colleagues so I thought I should have the courage of my lack of conviction and try a blog. It may be that a blog is just the thing I've been waiting for, but it also crossed my mind that maybe I was exactly the person blogs were waiting for.

So, world of blogs and bloggers, your search is over. I am ready to speak to you.

The truth is, I'm messing about on the computer (writing this) when I should be doing some German homework. Before anyone gets the wrong impression, I am in my 30s and the German course is totally my idea. It's a very good course - well-taught and filled with enthusiastic students. I also thoroughly appreciate what it has taught me so far. However, it is in the evening (after a day at work) and it lasts 3 hours and 15 minutes. There hasn't been a week go by that hasn't felt like a drag to turn up at the class room.

I want to learn another language, I usually enjoy it while I'm there and I'd never learn so much through self-study. I've even provisionally agreed to do the next level when I've finished this one and I really don't want to moan about it. It's a great course and I love learning about stuff, so why does it feel like a pain to get the books out?

If you have reached this far, feel good that you share the same thought as the author and his thousands of followers (actual figures not available). Let's hope things get a little better from here.

Guten Abend.