Sorry to say it, people, but this installment of Tech@Work will be the last one.
Though I have not done any statistical research on it, I think the odds are overwhelming that I recently established a first-ever world accomplishment: I read through John Keats' famous sequence of odes, on a Kindle book reader.
In the middle of all the current euphoria in the Yukon about the CRTC's calling-to-account of Northwestel for its telephone and digital service, I find myself with an awkward, unpopular, mind-set.
Hi, my name's Rick, and I'm an app-aholic. Now comes the part where you say, "Hi, Rick," and we move on to talk about my problem. So here we go.
Like most Canadian Internet geeks, over the past week or so, I have been seething over the egregious stupidity of the Conservative government's Bill C-30 - the so-called Protecting Children from Internet Predators Act.
About three weeks ago, I found myself, on an early Monday morning, giving a presentation to a crowded conference room about a database server project.
A little over a week ago, I went through one of my periodic episodes of local media exposure in the papers and on radio.
I do not share in the local excitement about the recent CRTC decision putting an end to Northwestel's phone service monopoly in the North. People who think service will get markedly better and/or cheaper are being delusional.
In the course of perusing one of my bookshelves at home (for reasons I no longer recall) I came upon one of the pleasurable surprises that are the reward for being a disorganized book hoarder rather than an organized bibliophile: A 1993 edition of the 125
As Christmas comes around again - for the 16th time now since the first internet-enabled Christmas of 1995 - I can't help but think about how both the internet and the Yukon itself have changed, and in many ways lost character since those heady and troubl
OK, the above title is something I would never have considered writing even a year or two ago; but it does represent a pretty fair summation of the argument to follow in this column.
No, folks, I have not suffered a blowout on my computer spell-check; I am fully aware of how to spell "canary." The entity I am talking about, though, is a bird of a very different feather.
Having recently devoted so much column space eulogizing, first, the not-surprising retirement, and, subsequently, the surprising passing of Steve Jobs, I feel a little reluctant to so quickly again spend time here singing the praises of a dead computer ne
Like most writers on the technology beat today, I am cancelling all plans and dumping all prepared copy to address what is, without question, the most surprising and important development in the technology world at the moment: the passing of Steve Jobs, t
The chemotherapy room in the Royal Jubilee Hospital in Victoria is a clean, quiet place, where patients sit drowsing, reading, or listening to their MP3 players in reclining chairs, as the plastic sacks of drug solutions drip into their veins.
It is a development as unthinkable 50 years ago as the collapse of the Soviet Union or cheap import goods from Communist China, though it is getting considerably less press or public attention: The A&P grocery chain.
Steve Jobs has made a career of grabbing the headlines of the technology press. The stories Jobs's retirement has pushed, at least temporarily, into the shade are anything but ephemeral.
This week, my job at the Yukon Technology Innovation Centre lead me to a sun-dappled afternoon in the unlikely company of farmers.
Last weekend, through a conjunction of what turned out to be happy accidents, I experienced my first two information-technology-free days in eight years.
A few weeks ago, on a junket through Vancouver, I was revisiting a bunch of memory lanes, courtesy of the BC Transit bus system, and happened to pass by the old Hollywood Theatre on West Broadway, on my way out to my old alma mater, UBC.