My daughter's cellphone died.
It just wouldn't charge, and it was time to buy her a new phone. Smart dad decided that to save some money, he would buy the phone direct from China. I've bought other minor doodads from China (on dx.com), and they usually arrive in one piece, so why not save some money. After all, they make these things in China anyway, right? And, if I didn't work out, I'm only down sixteen bucks (and 34 cents). And free shipping!
After about of month of waiting (yes, they really do ship using a slow boat from China), the package finally arrived. Only one problem: when I turn the thing on, everything is in Chinese. I fiddle with the buttons for a while, but can't seem to figure it out. And, what's worse, every so often a button I press locks the phone, and I can't decipher the Chinese to unlock it.
Smart daughter takes over. She opens Google Translate, and starts entering English terms, like "Unlock". We quickly match the right button with the symbols, and we're in. Next we search for language, and finally find how to switch to English. Very smart daughter.
Only one problem. We download her messages, which are all in Hebrew. The phone doesn't have Hebrew. Only English and Chinese. Not so smart dad.
I guess we've now got an extra English-Chinese cell phone lying around. Oh well.
Showing posts with label Musings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Musings. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
Saturday, December 22, 2012
A Old (and Modern) Pashkevil, and the Dangers of Radio (and iPods)
Over Chanukah, the family took a one-day trip to the Old City of Jerusalem, where the municipality offered self-guided tours for families. For a relatively modest fee we got a guidebook, a jelly doughnut for each of us (at the Marzipan bakery) and admission to three old city sites, as well as a couple of craft projects. There was even a musical performance. It was a really wonderful day; we toured at our own pace, and noticed some things in the Old City that we had taken for granted.
One of the sites that we visited was the Old Yishuv Museum, which, if you've ever been to the Old City, you've passed a hundred times. The museum houses artifacts that try and give you a sense of what life was like for Jews living in the Old City before the creation of the State. I can sum it up for you in two words: Really hard. Small tidbits that stuck with me: The mortality rate for newborns was 80%. Eighty. Women usually split each egg they acquired into four portions. And most people slept on mats on the floor, and a really generous husband would rent one of the six beds in the entire community for his wife to give birth. Like I said: Really hard.
As you walk through the rooms of the museum, you progress through different historical periods, and we came upon an early twentieth century room which displayed the following poster that appeared in the Old City. (Translation follows)
The Angel of Death in This Person's House (Heaven forbid)
Anyone who brings a "Radio" into his house, it is as if he brought the Angel of Death into his home, God forbid.
For, aside from the serious transgression and its terrible punishment, there is also the prohibition of "music in the house", about which our Sages said, the home with music will ultimately be destroyed...
Aside from this, his home becomes wide open for any prohibited matter, God forbid: to hear the nakedness of a woman's voice, to hear matters of scoffing, light-headedness, foolishness, profanity; to hear the voice of apostate preachers who influence with their words of apostasy, heresy, anarchy and abuse, God forbid.
To hear the "comedy" that they make from the reading of the holy Torah and the reading of the Megillah and the recitation of Selichot and from every holy matter, for this "comedy" uproots and weeds out any remnant of holy feeling in the heart of Israel, for the soul of a Jew used to wonder from trembling over the holiness of these matter when they were done in their [proper] holiness, in their time and place in an appropriate and customary manner. And this "comedy" blasphemies and extinguishes any spark of feeling of holiness, by transforming everything into an act of comedy and silliness for any religious ceremony; a mass "comedy:" that approaches the level of the conversation of those who sit in the gates and the melodies of drunks.
Sometimes this also causes the [gathering] of rabble-rousers and strangers in the house with the excuse of [wanting to] hear the "radio". The house loses in this manner the entire framework of life and any self-evaluation, because at the time that a person used to be free to think about his obligations in his world, instead he turns on the radio which chatters foolishness and nothingness - it sings and rings and confuses - and all the days in this home are like holidays and unadulterated joy which then leads to sorry, God forbid.
For this reason, anyone who cares about his soul and the souls of the people of his house will not allow this great destroyer to enter his home. "Leave, impure one!" he should say to it, and one who guards his soul will distance himself from it!
At the museum I couldn't help but think, "The more things change..." Just switch out "radio" for "Television", "Internet", "Cellphones" - and you've got the very same pashkevil you might find on the street today. You don't even have to change the words.
Except one thing did catch my attention, because there's certainly some truth to it. (Actually, there's truth to the whole thing. Any tool is dangerous - radio, telephone - even a pen and paper - depending on how you use it.) I've written before about how I enjoy running with my iPod, and enjoy a number of different podcasts. But I listen not just when I run, but also during my daily commute, when I'm doing housework (dishes, laundry and the like). But, if I'm honest with myself (and I don't think it's just me), sometimes we put on something in the background because we're trying to avoid the quiet. I'm not talking about loneliness; rather, we're trying to avoid forcing ourselves to use the quiet times in our day to do the cheshbon hanefesh - the personal introspection and self-evaluation so critical to spiritual growth.
And, it doesn't matter what's on: Jewish music, news podcast, TV in the background, as long as there's some noise, that's enough to prevent ourselves from thinking. And, sometimes I think that's exactly what I'm trying to avoid.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
An Astounding Discovery: The Lost Screwtape Letters
I have written before about the great value I have found in reading The Screwtape Letters, (which also seems to be available for free download as an ebook here) a powerful work of human nature by C.S. Lewis that I try and reread around Rosh Hashanah time. As luck would have it, I have gotten my hands on a recently discovered, previously unknown letter, which has only now been discovered, perhaps through a faulty Internet Service Provider. (Apparently, they're now using email.) After exhaustive research, I cannot fully vouch for its authenticity, but I share the letter with you nonetheless.
To: wormwood@pergatory.org
From: exec-vp@pergatory.org
Date: August 27, 2012
Subject: Using a Smartphone for work
My Dear Wormwood,
I am gratified to learn that your subject has recently received a
smartphone from his work. Like all implements, this new gadget is nothing more
or less than a tool to be used for our purposes, or to bolster the cause of the
enemy. I find myself astounded at the myriad of applications our enemy has instigaged
in a desperate attempt to minimize the damage these phones can do to their
cause. Audio lectures, texts available – I recently learned that they are even
developing an application so that a person can study the entire Talmud with a
single device.
Contrary to what you might think, these are not negative developments
for our cause. Quite the opposite. There is no more titillating experience for us
in our work than having your subject use his phone for what he considers to be spiritual
purposes, when in fact he achieves almost no benefit at all. Encourage him to
download a lecture on a heavy text so that he can listen while he jogs. What emerges
is the quite amusing situation in that he thinks that he has spent an hour
studying while he runs, freeing him during the rest of his spare time for
leisurely pursuits such as watching a baseball game (or, preferably, a situation
comedy), when in fact, we know very well that he has not really studied
anything at all. At best he has heard the material, and absorbed almost
nothing. This is the ideal first step as you slowly reel him into your grasp:
to have him feel like he's engaging in valuable, worthwhile endeavors, while in
fact he is doing nothing of the sort.
Yet, the smartphone presents a far more delectable opportunity for our
purposes. I am not referring to the possibility of his accessing pornography
via the phone. That cheap thrill, of course, can be of some value to us, and
there are a few rare cases where tempters succeeded in using the pornography to
instill a deep sense of guilt that distanced their charge from the bright light
of the enemy into the shadows of our Home. Yet, if you wish to tempt to
pornography, you will need to steer your subject towards a real computer. No,
the smartphone presents even more delicious opportunities for those in our line
of work.
With his new phone, your charge will instantly be connected with a myriad
of services and websites that previously required him to sit at a computer. He
will find himself under a constant barrage of emails from work, friends and
other acquaintances that you must convince him to attend to immediately,
without delay. Remind him, after all, that he must be constantly available, or
he'll be considered a second-rate employee by his boss. Also encourage him to
download as many social networking applications as possible, including
Facebook (we're still working on that award for Mr. Zuckerberg) but
also Google Plus, LinkedIn, and as many applications as possible
that share silly pictures, funny quotes, and other useless information.
These applications offer many great benefits to our cause, of which I will
share two:
1. They blessedly rob your charge of any free time. One of our greatest
dangers is the mere possibility that those under our care spend time in reflection
and contemplation. As I have written to you in previous letters (that you have
clumsily ignored to this point), our greatest enemy is our subjects' ability and
desire to think; to look around the world and contemplate the mystery of the
Universe; to wonder about eternal questions. At these moments, our counterparts
– when they are wise and quick – lead the man down a road we cannot follow –
leading to potentially disastrous consequences.
For this reason, we must thank our Father daily for the curse (blessing
to us, that is) of these devices. Armed with such a device, your subject will
never, ever have the time to think or contemplate anything. Stuck on the line
at the grocery store? Remind him that he's wasting his time, and that he could
be spending this "wasted" time doing something far more useful,
pointing to his Smartphone. He'll never bother to ask why scrolling through
endless vapid comments on Facebook is useful. After all, it's on his
Smartphone. (I do love that name! People who use them consider themselves
smart! Fantastic!) Get him into the habit of taking out the device whenever
there's a lull in his day: on the train to work; during meetings at work; before
you know it, you'll have him using the phone during the "boring" periods
at religious services – again a win-win for us: he thinks he's praying, while
we know that he's answering his email.
2. Yet, this is only a secondary benefit of these wonderful devices to
our cause. The main benefit these devices offer us is that they can, when used
(by you) properly, drive a subtle, critical wedge between your charge and his
loved ones.
You must, ever so slowly, instill in your man a sense of insecurity that
causes him to constantly check his phone for updates. As his sense of
self-worth diminishes, he will find himself needing to check for new messages
with increasing regularity. And, the more he checks the phone and finds comfort
from the messages of others, the less self-assured he will become. If you play
your cards right, he will begin to evaluate himself solely on the number of
"likes" that he receives on a picture he shares, and the number of
Facebook friends he has amassed, irrespective of how many of those people he
knows (or even cares about).
Moreover, as time progresses, he will begin to think of these virtual
relationships as "real", and ignore the very real people in his life.
Imagine him sharing a meal with his mother at a local restaurant. As his mother
attempts to conduct a conversation with him, she finds him constantly glancing
down at his phone to check for updates and messages. She will (assuming her
tempter hasn't fallen asleep) blow up at him because she can't get in a word
without him checking "that damn phone". You can then, quite easily encourage
him to respond with equally righteous indignation, as you insist in his ear
that he was, "listening to every word she said." Thus, you have used
your phone to distance your man from his beloved mother, and gotten him to
blame her for it in the process!
In a way, Wormwood, you are fortunate. Had such tools been available
during my tenure, many more of my subjects would have certainly found themselves
in our Father's house, and I would have received my well-deserved promotion
many centuries ago, instead of having to wait for my previous superior's
unfortunate repeated blunders (in which I deny any culpability) that allowed me
to achieve the prominent position I now enjoy.
Don't get any ideas. Smartphone or not, you're nowhere near my pay
grade. And, I am watching you.
Affectionately yours,
Screwtape
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
The Tzedakah App I'm Not Going to Design. But Someone Should.
I got a call at Orot about placing an advertisement in the paper. We work with a media company in Israel, and I needed a picture of a specific teacher at the school. So I fired up my Picasa software (the free photo software that you can download from Google), and it quickly showed me every picture of this instructor that I had stored on my computer. Apparently, facial analysis software is so commonplace that they now give it away for free. Turns out that I didn't have a good picture to use, but I also didn't spend hours searching my files to find that out.
That evening, a quiet knock on the door announced a pair of tzedakah collectors, who told me that they were collecting money for the niece of one of them (the other just came along to "help out"), and handed me a four-page full-color flier calling for donations on behalf of a poor, cancer-stricken young girl (her eyes covered for privacy), complete with rabbinic approvals and a toll-free number for credit card donations on the back. I was, to say the least, skeptical.
"Do you have any identification that would connect you to this girl?" No.
"Do you have any personal letters of recommendation so that I know that you're actually telling me the truth?" No.
I told them that while I was very sorry, experience had taught me to wonder whether they found the fliers in some shul, and saw a great opportunity to make some money. Without any corroborating documentation, I didn't feel comfortable giving them money.
Funny thing is, they were quite nice and reasonable, and didn't really make a fuss. They thanked me, and moved on to the next house. They encouraged me to call the phone number and donate over the phone. (I called to try and check into the identification of the "uncle." They took my name and number and promised to call me back. I'm still waiting.) In truth, I'm still not sure whether they were telling me the truth. There's really no way to know - both who they were, and whether they really did represent an actual need.
But then I realized, that there is. Or there should be.
In most cities in America, when someone arrives to collect for tzedakah, his first stop is the office where he gets his local tzedakah I.D. He undergoes some type of background check and receives a document attesting both to his identity and the cause for which he's collecting. It might be himself or his eighth daughter's wedding, and it might be a fund or a kollel. In Detroit, it was commonly accepted to withhold donations from an individual collecting without such a document.
In Israel, that system has yet to exist. But the American system also contains a number of inefficiencies. Each city must do its own checking, adding toil and expense both to the collector and to the local representative. What if there were a central database of meshulachim, which could be instantly accessed from around the globe? Moreover - and even more importantly, could there also be a database of individuals known to have falsified information to collect money?
I hope you see where I'm going.
Imagine a smartphone app in which you simply snap a picture with your phone of the person standing at your door. Using readily available face-identification technology, the database would then search for the person's identity, and also tell you who he was collecting for (if he's on the database). In addition, people could also submit photos to the database for research and corroboration, and report suspicious behavior.
With such an app, there's no longer any need for local identification and also no way to game the system as your face is your ID. You can't fake your face (unless you've got a really good makeup artist, ala Mission Impossible) and you can't escape your past. And, if you truly represent a worthy cause, a positive ID will enable you to collect more easily and safely.
There's a possible added benefit to this system as well. Imagine that a meshulach knocks on my door collecting for his kollel. I snap his picture in my Android Meshulachim app, and learn his name, the name of the kollel, and some background information about the institution. I'd like to donate. Meshulachm face major challenges both carrying far too much cash (making them obvious victims of theft), and being forced to pay heavy fees to cash checks, combine checks - basically to collect the money they've actually collected. What if I could, in the app, donate to the kollel automatically through an online payment system. I donate an amount and he immediately receives an email informing him of my donation. He's not carrying cash. He's not paying an exorbitant percentage to his driver. And when he gets back to Israel (which is almost always where he's from), he can simply access his money from his online account.
I've been mulling this idea in my head and I think it's got a lot of potential. If you see holes, please share. If not, this seems like a great potential use for technology to make life easier for everyone: for people wishing to give tzedakah and feel good about the donation; for local authorities often overwhelmed by the demands of meshulachim; and even for the honest collectors looking for a way to build trust and collect more simply.
I think it's a pretty interesting idea for an App, and I know that I'll never do anything about this idea. But maybe someone should.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Can You Study for a Test After You've Already Taken It?
Not so fast. Maybe you can study after the test.
After the test? How can that help? You've already taken the exam, so what good would studying afterward do? It seems that a very prominent psychologist has discovered that studying after a test really can make a difference. A NY Times article today (mostly about how scientists can't stand or accept things they cannot easily explain) describes the soon-to-be-published paper by Dr. Daryl J. Bem, an emeritus professor at Cornell on the subject of ESP. Among the experiments he conducted,
Dr. Bem gave 100 college students a memory test before they did the categorizing — and found they were significantly more likely to remember words that they practiced later. “The results show that practicing a set of words after the recall test does, in fact, reach back in time to facilitate the recall of those words,” the paper concludes.So, if after the test you go back and study better, there's some indication that you'll perform better than you would have otherwise.
In Jewish terms, the article reminds me of the Jewish concept of Teshuvah. According to some views of repentance, when one repents completely he not only changes his life moving forward, but actually has the power to erase events and behaviors in his past. It also reminds me of how Rav Kook (in the limited writings of his that I've read) describes the Jewish people. He described the Jewish nation as a single entity spanning not only space, but also time - a single organism united together with a single spirit.
Perhaps these new experiments will help us understand that while we live in time as a linear process, things are far more complicated than they seem, and events unfolding today effect, and are affected by not only by events that happened long ago, but also by events that have yet to occur.
Wrap your mind around that one.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Perfect Memory: A Blessing or a Curse?
60 Minutes is among the list of podcasts that I enjoy on my way too and from work. They recently did a piece they called, "The Gift of Endless Memory", about people who basically remember everything that ever happened to them. Give them a day, and they'll tell you what happened that day to the smallest detail.
Listening to this amazing story I immediately wondered: Is that really a blessing, or more of a curse?
We tend to think that the greater the power of recall, the greater the blessing. But there's another side to the story. To a great degree, the power to forget is a very great blessing indeed.
While it must be great to remember the good things that happened in our lives, imagine also being able to recall, instantly, with vivid detail, the most painful memories of our lives. Imagine the ability to relive our most embarrassing moments, our most foolish mistakes, and our greatest missteps. Given the choice, I'd pass.
Many times, after making a particular fool of myself, or having a uniquely bad day at work, I am able to find solace in the fact that in a couple of days, the event will be a mere memory - a shadow of the pain that I'm feeling at that moment. I'll still have a vague sense of remorse, but not the sting of shame that I feel in the moment. I wonder what it must be like not to have that luxury; to know that the pain of loss or shame of mistake will forever be with me, and that I'll always be able to recall just how stupid I felt after I yelled at my wife, or messed up that email in work, or lost my temper.
It's interesting that in the piece, the reporter makes a vague allusion to one of the few people affected by this condition.
The first person ever identified with this ability is Jill Price, who says she feels haunted by the never-ending stream of memories and hasn't wanted to meet any of the others.
Indeed. I doubt I'd want to be highlighted for this condition either. Even during the report, we watch one of the women tear up at an event that had occurred years before.
Spanish painter Salvadore Dali's famous work, The Persistence of Memory, has always resonated with me. I have no idea what Dali meant in the work, but it speaks to me about the fading quality of memory, and how memory degrades over time. I've never seen this as a sad phenomenon, but rather on the unique qualities of the human experience that allows us to function in the world, progress over time, and grow from past experiences without having to constantly relive them.
If you offered me this type of memory, I'm pretty sure that I'd say "no thanks." (Of course, it's a condition. You either have it or you don't, but that's besides the point.)
I'm not sure whether I would have called this condition a "blessing" or a "curse".
Listening to this amazing story I immediately wondered: Is that really a blessing, or more of a curse?
We tend to think that the greater the power of recall, the greater the blessing. But there's another side to the story. To a great degree, the power to forget is a very great blessing indeed.
While it must be great to remember the good things that happened in our lives, imagine also being able to recall, instantly, with vivid detail, the most painful memories of our lives. Imagine the ability to relive our most embarrassing moments, our most foolish mistakes, and our greatest missteps. Given the choice, I'd pass.
Many times, after making a particular fool of myself, or having a uniquely bad day at work, I am able to find solace in the fact that in a couple of days, the event will be a mere memory - a shadow of the pain that I'm feeling at that moment. I'll still have a vague sense of remorse, but not the sting of shame that I feel in the moment. I wonder what it must be like not to have that luxury; to know that the pain of loss or shame of mistake will forever be with me, and that I'll always be able to recall just how stupid I felt after I yelled at my wife, or messed up that email in work, or lost my temper.
It's interesting that in the piece, the reporter makes a vague allusion to one of the few people affected by this condition.
The first person ever identified with this ability is Jill Price, who says she feels haunted by the never-ending stream of memories and hasn't wanted to meet any of the others.
Indeed. I doubt I'd want to be highlighted for this condition either. Even during the report, we watch one of the women tear up at an event that had occurred years before.
If you offered me this type of memory, I'm pretty sure that I'd say "no thanks." (Of course, it's a condition. You either have it or you don't, but that's besides the point.)
I'm not sure whether I would have called this condition a "blessing" or a "curse".
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Graduation. From Sixth Grade.
My son graduated from sixth grade last night. First and foremost, I'm really, really proud of him. He did an amazing job studying, learning, acclimating, and growing in his first year in an Israeli school.
But the graduations have really gotten out of hand.
Full disclosure: I had both a shiur and a meeting last night, so I only suffered through a half-hour of the program. But the essential point remains accurate. But my son's sixth grade graduation, which began over half-hour late (another pet-peeve of mine), ended over three hours later.
Last week Rena was away, so I got to attend my four-year-old's "End of year ceremony." For a four-year-old. From gan. And do you want to guess what he did the very next day? That's right. He went back to gan. And what's he doing tomorrow morning, after his gan has officially "ended" today? Again, you guessed it. He's going to "camp". Oh, did I mention that "camp" is in the same building, run by the same people as "gan"? It's a good thing that he had an hour-and-a-half long "graduation".
These graduation ceremonies are really getting out of control. For some reason, schools feel the need to mark the end of the school year with a program including speeches, plays, programs, movies, dances, and anything else you can imagine. Don't get me wrong, but these programs are almost unbearable. Yet, in a grade with sixty kids, every child must have some significant role in the program, making it ever longer and more intolerable.
I celebrated three graduations in my life: high school, college and Semichah. I remember each of them (although not the college one that well), and each one marked a significant milestone in my life. When we start graduating from one year to the next, we not only assign greater significance than necessary to imaginary milestones. We also make every milestone that much less significant, making it difficult for our children to know whether they've accomplished anything at all.
But the graduations have really gotten out of hand.
Full disclosure: I had both a shiur and a meeting last night, so I only suffered through a half-hour of the program. But the essential point remains accurate. But my son's sixth grade graduation, which began over half-hour late (another pet-peeve of mine), ended over three hours later.
Last week Rena was away, so I got to attend my four-year-old's "End of year ceremony." For a four-year-old. From gan. And do you want to guess what he did the very next day? That's right. He went back to gan. And what's he doing tomorrow morning, after his gan has officially "ended" today? Again, you guessed it. He's going to "camp". Oh, did I mention that "camp" is in the same building, run by the same people as "gan"? It's a good thing that he had an hour-and-a-half long "graduation".
These graduation ceremonies are really getting out of control. For some reason, schools feel the need to mark the end of the school year with a program including speeches, plays, programs, movies, dances, and anything else you can imagine. Don't get me wrong, but these programs are almost unbearable. Yet, in a grade with sixty kids, every child must have some significant role in the program, making it ever longer and more intolerable.
I celebrated three graduations in my life: high school, college and Semichah. I remember each of them (although not the college one that well), and each one marked a significant milestone in my life. When we start graduating from one year to the next, we not only assign greater significance than necessary to imaginary milestones. We also make every milestone that much less significant, making it difficult for our children to know whether they've accomplished anything at all.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Wired Magazine: The Saga
to rspolter
date Wed, Jan 14, 2009 at 8:02 AM
subject Enjoy your Wired magazine gift subscription!
You have just been given a gift subscription to WIRED magazine! Visit the following link to get details... Gift link
from Reuven Spolter
to "Rosen, Philip"
date Tue, Mar 31, 2009 at 5:50 PM
Dear Dad,
Hope all is well, and that your Pesach prep goes well. I'm writing for two reasons:
1. I'm writing to see if you actually ordered the Wired Magazine - I'm pretty sure that you did, but I have yet to receive anything from them. Is there any way to contact them and see what the deal is?
from Philip W. Rosen
to Reuven Spolter
date Thu, Apr 2, 2009 at 7:01 AM
Dear Ruby,
I ordered Wired magazine and got the attached confirming e-mail on 1/13/09. Our credit card was charged on 1/20/09. Checkout your mailing address on the attached confirmation e-mail. I suspect the magazine is floating around somewhere in Yad Binyamin. Please let me know what you find out. Thanks!
from Philip W. Rosen
to wircustserv@cdsfulfillment.com
date Thu, Apr 2, 2009 at 7:14 AM
subject Gift subscription not received
Hi! In January, I ordered an international gift subscription of Wired magazine for my son-in-law. On January 20, 2009, my Visa card was charged $70. To date, my son-in-law has not yet received any copies of the magazine.
From: Wired [mailto:wircustserv@cdsfulfillment.com]
Sent: Thursday, April 02, 2009 2:32 PM
Dear Philip W Rosen:
We are extending your gift subscription to compensate for the March 2009 issue missed. Please allow six to eight weeks for this change to appear on your address label.
We are working with a different distributor for our International subscribers. Please allow time for this change to take effect.
Your patience is greatly appreciated.
from Reuven Spolter
to wircustserv@cdsfulfillment.com
date Fri, May 1, 2009 at 9:25 AM
Hello,
As you can see from the email trail below, my father-in-law ordered a
subscription for me in January of this year, and followed up about a
month ago. I have yet to receive any issues of wired at all. Is there
a way that we can resolve this issue, and get me some issues of Wired?
from Wired
to Reuven Spolter
date Fri, May 1, 2009 at 6:59 PM
Dear Reuven Spolter:
Our records show your postal address was not completely accurate in our
records. Please accept our apologies for this mistake.
The address on your subscription has been corrected and we are extending
your subscription. Please allow six to eight weeks for this change to
appear on your address label.
from Wired
to Reuven Spolter
date Mon, May 4, 2009 at 2:58 PM
Dear Mr. Spolter:
The address on your subscription has been corrected and we are extending your subscription. Please allow six to eight weeks for this change to appear on your address label.
Your subscription will now start with the July 2009 issue and will continue through the June 2010 issue.
So, after waiting literally six months to try and get a copy of Wired Magazine, Rena traveled last week to the States to see her grandparents. Thank God, they're doing well, and it was a good trip. She came back on Wednesday evening bearing gifts, among which she brought a copy of the July issue of Wired Magazine (as per my request). Wonderful.
And then the very next day, I got to check my mail, and sitting in the mailbox is...you guessed it - the July issue of Wired Magazine. So after six months of no copies, now I've got two.
Anyone living in Yad Binyamin want a copy?
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