• You can chop-and-paste from one monitor to the other, keeping a browser open on one monitor for… uhm… err… research and your Great American Novel front and center on the other.
• You can set different resolutions on different monitors. This lets you quickly see through other eyes, a handy thing when designing web pages, especially if you have a penchant for extra-large (or extra small) fonts. Guilty, I am. I often forget that some people like their icons larger than a pinhead and text measured in multiple microns.
• You can run multiple flavors of browser — IE, Firefox, and Safari, maybe Opera just for grins — simultaneously making sure that nothing looks right on any of them regardless of what you do.
• Finally, for the A.D.D. amongst us, you can while away your day, in manifold multitasking, with more stuff in your face — calendar, email, task list, Facebook, ESPN and CNN, three or four or five or ten browser windows, slash-dot, iTunes, and a copy of the DMCA (just in case).

Running with two is easy to do. In fact, most modern, add-on video cards have two connectors, usually a DVI and a VGA (15pin DSUB) connector. Many now come with two DVI connectors. All you need do is connect up two monitors and click the check box in Windows (maybe twiddle with your BIOS), and — voila — you’ve got screen-space. Today’s LCD panels, like most hardware, are downright cheap too.

For folks that have to look at two things at once — such as when cataloging scanned documents, or working with document management systems — I recommend it. It’s almost a joy to view an item on one screen, whilst keying metadata on another. If you work with web pages, or graphics, or have to manipulate multiple things in multiple windows, it’s an amazing time-saver. It’s well worth the investment.

Wide monitors are also great, but having two monitors is even better. Better yet is having two wide monitors. Moreover, the first time you snap a window from one monitor to another in front of the uninitiated, the sudden gasp and resultant, “How did you do that?” is well worth the investment. People will think you’re cool and sexy. No need to tell them that all it takes is the dexterity to twist the screw connectors on a VGA cable — admittedly, that can be challenging.

Sadly, my home setup did not invoke gasps. It was, shall we say, embarrassing. Like the classic cobbler kids, my feet were unshod, my setup shameful. That shame came rushing home just a few weeks ago when a friend laughed out loud upon seeing the CRT monitor squatting on my desk like a 1950′s television. “Is that your monitor?” he snickered derisively. “It’s huge!”

“Huge” it seems, is no longer a desired attribute — at least when applied to monitors. That was it — I could stands no more — it was time to upgrade to something smaller.

Given the season, I decided I’d aim for a triptych — the holy grail of multiple monitors — the magic number three. Yep. Three monitors. It takes a wee bit more work than two, but offers a certain balance, a certain pleasing symmetry, if you will. I’m a great fan of symmetry. Besides, it looks really cool.

At home, my main monitor is a nice Dell 20-inch LCD panel. I got it cheap. It was staying. The other monitor — the behemoth, a huge 19-inch, 16 ton CRT — well, it had to go. So, I tucked it away, in my own personal white elephant graveyard (right next to the vintage Compaq Presario 526 and the Dell Optiplex G1 running OS2 Warp.)

To replace the CRT, I scavenged a two Dell 17-inch 4:3 monitors. They were homeless; abandoned. (It’s amazing how quickly wide-aspect monitors have become de rigueur and 4:3′s are now so much landfill.) The desktop space gained by removing the CRT was amazing — leaving more than enough space for the third LCD — with a little left over for a DVD-stack and miscellaneous other stuff.

Then I went to work on the box. To run the third monitor, I needed new hardware. I had run out of video connections. The box is a Dell Optiplex 745 — not fancy, but adequate. It’s stuffed with all the parts; packed with 4GB of RAM and about a half a terabyte of storage. Slot-wise, inside, the beast sports one PCI-e(xpress) x16 slot, one PCI-e x1 slot, and a couple of regular old PCI slots. I haven’t a clue what you do with PCI-e x1 — and it looked awful funny — so I concentrated on the other two types.

My current video card, an Nvidia GeForce 8500 GT made by BFG, is in the PCI-e x16 slot. It drives my 20-inch LCD via the DVI. Since that PCI-e slot was full, I figured I needed a regular PCI card. My plan was to keep the main monitor (center) on the GeForce 8500 and let the new card (whatever it might be) drive the outriggers (left and right). Hence, the new card needed to support at least two monitors.

Checking my own highly-organized inventory (AKA: my drawer full of stuff) I did find a couple of old video cards from long-gone manufacturers, but none worked. Totally irrelevant, I also found:

• Five old Cue Cats;
• A half-dozen old mice;
• About four thousand PC power cords;
• An OEM copy of WordPerfect Office for DOS;
• A Sharp “Wizard” PDA (circa April 1991), and;
• An “Ely Culbertson” mechanical card shuffler with the crumpled instructions for an “Ultrasonic Rodent Repeller” stuffed inside.

While briefly entertained by the cosmic juxtaposition of mice, Cue Cats, and “Rodent Repeller” instructions, it was immediately clear that none of this stuff was going to help in my quest. Consequently, as any geek would, I played briefly with the card shuffler, marveling at the mechanics, and then neatly stuffed it all back into the “parts” drawer, vowing to “clean it up later.”

I turned then to Google.

The collective Google geek consensus was: “Don’t mix video drivers.” In fact, said the Google, your second video card should be in the same chip family, or at least a kissing cousin. In English, this meant I needed a video board with an Nvidia 8xxx chipset, if not another actual 8500 GT. If I did that, both cards could and would (or should) use the same driver.

After a disappointing trip to the local Best Buy, where they never have what I want and it’s all overpriced, I tried a local computer hack-shack. No luck there, either. Next was Newegg. Even there, it seems, my options were limited unless I wanted to replace everything. I considered this, briefly admiring some quad-head (four monitors!) boards, but didn’t bite.

Eschewing the high-priced options and sacrificing instant gratification, I went cheap, crossed my metaphysical fingers, and ordered a PCI card with an Nvidia 8400 GS chip — I figured 8400 was close to 8500 …

Newegg, by the way, is terrific — excellent user interface, terrific prices, and good service. The board itself — a Sparkle GeForce 8400 GS 512MB GDDR2 PCI — was sixty bucks. True to form, and as promised, Newegg had the board here the day after Christmas.

Sneezing, I slipped it in to my PC, vacuumed out the dust bunnies, crossed my fingers, thought nice thoughts about churros, and slapped my head three times with a copy of Vista Premium Ultimate Galactic Omnipotent Edition and… it didn’t work.

Three Monitors: Diana Krall singing “A Case of You” and a glass of Syrah.

Yet, after a little tweaking, some irascible grumbling, and a couple of reboots — followed by a frantic yet fruitful hunt for a VGA cable without a bent pin — nirvana was mine.

My triptych was complete. I had trinity — three monitors — no muss, no fuss, no waiting. All that remained was to hook up all the USB hubs and try to gain some semblance of order in the cable chaos I had created. With three monitors, I discovered I had run out of power outlets and had to spring for another power strip — once again proving that no tech project ever comes in on budget.

The plethora of USB connections, by the way, was an un-expected bonus. I had forgotten that each monitor had its own USB hub, each offering four USB connections, two (totally unreachable) in the back and two on the side.

Unfortunately, DELL, in its cosmic wisdom, can’t seem to decide which side of a monitor to place the USB ports. On two of the monitors, the ports are on the left. On the other monitor, the ports are on the right (and reversed, back to front). This setup guarantees — no matter what way you turn the USB connection, when you try to stick it in the slot, you’ve got it backwards.

Three Card Monitor Monty

There is one more thing I should mention. Once done, you need to shuffle the monitors around on the “Display Properties” tab — making sure you’ve got them in the order you want. I wanted mine with the primary (20-inch LCD) monitor in the middle. Each monitor is numbered, so you just drag and drop the little image of the monitor where you want it. Easy as Three-card Monte.

That time, in that past hotel, things went south. I had tried to look innocent. I failed. “Monsieur!” said the hotel’s night manager as he pounded loudly on my door. “Monsieur, he repeated as I opened the door, “is there is a problem with your telephone, Mein Herr?”

The switch from French to German seemed ominous. Moreover, he looked ominous. He looked like he had spent his formative years on a diet of steroids and fondue, while bench pressing Tony Soprano. “Whoops,” I thought, “this can’t be good.” Articulate and ever ready with smooth repartee, I replied with a set of universally understood monosyllables. “Uh, err, ah, umm,” I said.

Gathering my wits about me, I continued: “Uh… nope, err… Nein. Ich bin… err.” At that I had exhausted what I remembered of my high-school German. All I could think of was “Ich bin ein Berliner.” That wouldn’t work. Wrong country, wrong era; moreover (urban legends about jelly donuts aside) I am no John Kennedy. Giving up, I continued in English, once again adopting my best Midwestern silly grin, “Can I have a late check-out?” I said.

I had been caught in the act. Apparently, my midnight trial-and-error tactics with the hotel phone had only succeeded in lighting up the switchboard. At checkout, I found out that I had also succeeded in calling most of the hotel’s other guests. Jet-lagged, I had been up in the wee hours; apparently ringing rooms randomly about the hotel. I had not made any new friends.

Let me tell you, it’s hard to look innocent with alligator clips in your hand. In those bygone days, I had traveled with a neat little home-made device — something I nicknamed a “blackjack” — a three-foot length of telco cable with two alligator clips on one end and an RJ11 on the other. In the dreaded hard-wired hotels of the past, one could (if you knew what you were doing) unscrew the room phone’s mouthpiece and, with proper application of the alligator clips, achieve the satori of oneness with a distant (and now prehistoric) packet network. It was all a question of feeding the right wires to the right alligator, holding your tongue in the right position, while simultaneously dialing the phone with your feet. Easy as pie.

I had been trying for the Swiss equivalent of Tymnet, but something had not gone right. Perhaps I was supposed to dial a “9″ first, or was it a “0″? Damn, whatever it was, I had done it wrong. I was young and foolish. I used to dare any hotel to defeat me. If I could unscrew the mouthpiece and find the right two wires, dial-tone was mine, I’d boast. Universal oneness would follow. “Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.”

Luckily I was checking out that day. I’m probably not welcome back. It’s a shame. It was a nice hotel, nestled right next to Lake Geneva; walking distance to the various U.N. agencies at the Palais des Nations. They also served a good entrecote and frites, and a damn good fondue. I am easily pleased.

There was no wireless then; the internet was in its infancy, phones were hardwired, and hotels were worse than clueless. I left that hotel defeated. Shamed, I recall dejectedly tucking away the blackjack and reattaching the phone’s mouthpiece. All the while, the TV played five minutes of back-to-back cheese commercials. Fromage is a national pastime.

These particular cheese commercials consisted of a woman in a flowing diaphanous gown running down a hillside covered in waving lavender, pursued, and eventually caught, by a muscular manly-man, a la Fabio, dressed in a billowy white shirt open to the waist. Perhaps it was Fabio. Whoever it was, at that climax, the narrator would announce in a husky, sultry voice the word “fromage,” and the commercial would end. Fabio and fromage are forever linked in my mind — a rather terrible and strange mnemonic trigger.

I left Switzerland — a country now and forever associated dangerous liaisons, strange TV, and, of course, cheese. Since then, my blackjack has gone to the great “box-o’-wires” in the sky (actually the basement), and the world is a safer place for it. Hoteliers, world-wide, breathe easier, no doubt celebrating with a nice plate of Raclette. Someday I suppose I might even go back to Geneva and use my real name.

Connectivity, never easy, nevertheless, is still dangerous. In fact, it’s more dangerous than ever. I’m often surprised by just how dangerous it is, and how oblivious we are to it all. Moreover, I am amazed at how unsecure all these “secure” networks really are.

That was then, this is now. That was Switzerland, this is Germany. Nevertheless, in some strange twisted synchronicity, there are cheese commercials on the TV as I carefully type the hotel’s wireless passkey into my laptop. I can hear the putter and splash of cargo barges and touring ships as they work their ways up and down the Mosel River. It’s an idyllic scene, a setting that masks the inherent dangers of my actions.

Why the paranoia? Well, I don’t trust hotels to know what they’re doing, nor do I trust the other guests. Moreover, they should not trust me; nor should you. Trust me. It’s more dangerous than ever. For example, on this particular hotel network, there are lots of things I shouldn’t be able to see, and I’m not really even trying — just glancing around casually while waiting for my email to sync.

The hotel’s wireless… well, it’s wide open. Without even looking very hard, I could see the network tracks of half-a-dozen trusting hotel guests, including one nice open file share, complete with various documents and spreadsheets. There are also what appear to be a wide variety of the hotel’s PC’s. I idly considered upgrading my reservation. But, I’m not that kind of a guy. I might have had a field day. Instead, I check my firewall to make sure I’m safe from prying eyes or possible assaults on my precious collection of spreadsheets, memoranda, silly blog posts, and essays on cheese, Hegelian transcendental epistemological deconstructionism, and French fries.

Connectivity was dangerous. Connectivity is dangerous — more now than ever. Moreover, it’s dangerous on both sides of the equation. My policy is: if I don’t control the device — whatever it is — it’s not going to touch my network, period. I have no idea where you’ve been, or what you’ve been doing with that little device of yours. You may be innocent, but your laptop may have gone over to the dark side. A Sith lord may be hiding in your iPhone. I’m not about to find out the hard way. They’re hard to get rid of.

Similarly, I’m forever surprised at how often, and how easily, people give me access to their “secure” wireless networks without a second thought. The risks are great. I may look innocent, buy you haven’t a clue where my laptop has been. This problem persists in most nonprofit organizations I visit.

Upon request, folks blithely offer access. “Can I get on your wireless network,” I ask. “Sure,” they say, “here’s the passphrase.” And, just like that, they hand me the cookie jar. A few even offer up, meekly and mutely, the Ethernet jack on the wall. Surrender Dorothy! Here come the flying monkeys!

With nonprofits, when I’m offering advice or putting together this or that plan, I always, always advise and budget for setting up a separate “guest” network. It makes things easier all around. You can give out the key willy-nilly and not worry, you can be hospitable and accommodating, and you can be safe and secure in the knowledge that no one is going to steal your cheese, or whatever else might be lying about on your network.

Guest wireless networks are simple, cheap, and easy. That’s the irony. It’s a problem so easy to solve. Small routers (wired or wireless) are cheap; it’s a no brainer. Here are two easy approaches:

1. Set up a “Three Router “Y” guest network— this option uses three routers, in a “Y” configuration. It’s simple, and given the cost of routers, it’s cheap. If you have a large area, or need multiple access points, it can get complicated in delivering the connection to various access points. But a simple one you can do for the price of one router and two wireless routers, or as little as about $180.
2. Set up an “Open-Mesh” guest network — this option uses a set of open-source protocols on little beasties called “Open-Mesh Mini-routers.” This is for the more adventurous, those willing to walk a little closer to the wild side, the world of open source, open protocols, and funky startups. You can do this for as little as $50.

Setting up a Three Router “Y”

The simplest configuration is called a “Three Router Y.” It’s called a “Y” because the functional diagram looks like an upside-down letter “Y.” I’ve drawn a pretty picture below.

Basically, you “split” the internet connection where it enters your organization into two. One is for your organization and the other is for guests. Given this design, it is impossible for any traffic to flow between the “Private Network” and the “Guest Network.” Each is isolated from the other, yet both can reach the Internet via the shared connection. Moreover, since the two networks actually have the same internal sub-network (192.168.1.XXX), it’s absolutely positively impossible for any pesky packets to find their way from one WLAN network to the other.

This particular design works for small organizations that have only a single connection to the ‘net and probably only have one static, public IP address. It also works for home setups — if you want to provide a “guest” network at your house, for example and keep your nasty hacker friends out of your MP3 collection.

Note: If you’ve got a more sophisticated setup, and/or multiple public IP addresses, you can eliminate the first router in the chain, and simply split off a “guest” network before your firewall. That’s the trick.

Open-Mesh Mini-Routers

When you walk the wild side, you can get burned. I first started looking at “mesh” devices made by a company called Meraki. They were pretty neat. They were really cheap. They automatically set up a private network and a public network. I was all ready to go, but then Google bought them or something, and all of a sudden the boxes cost three times as much, they started slipping adverts into everything, and got all funky. So we’re going to switch to the spin-off, open-source alternative — something called “Open-Mesh.” They offer fine wee devices that have some pretty neat features. They’re cheap as all get out ($49.00). You can even get a POE (power over Ethernet) injector/splitter kit for $6.95.

Called an Open-Mesh Mini Router, these beasties use some neat “mesh” technology — technology that let you use the cigarette-package-sized device as either a router (connected to the internet) or a repeater (boosts and extends the signal allowing greater coverage).

For me, the Open-Mesh stuff solves a problem — they could provide coverage in a building that’s built like a Faraday cage. Seriously, my offices are scattered across six (non-contiguous) floors of a sixteen-story building, a building that has a higher percentage of steel than a ’50 Buick Roadmaster. In fact, I think it’s actually built of interlocking Buicks. (Figuratively it IS built of Buicks, and Chevys and Cadillacs and a couple of odd Oldsmobiles thrown in for good measure.) Cell phones only work because the roof is antenna city. I figure there is enough wireless radio activity to melt Raclette, but I haven’t tried yet.

These Open-Mesh routers are not specifically designed for split guest/private networks for organizations. I’m bastardizing their technology. Nevertheless, while it’s not designed for it, it does it very elegantly. So elegantly that I just couldn’t resist. If you want to read more about Open-Mesh, look here: Http://open-mesh.com.

Using one of these Mini-Routers (they’re made by Accton), setting up private/guest/public network is a breeze. There is no need for three routers. It only takes one, the beastie supports two isolated WLANs (and two SSIDs) on the same box. You just plug it in to the ‘net and give it power. Then, with a few clicks on a web-management page, you’re done. The Open-Mesh Mini-Router automatically sets up a private (WPA encrypted/passphrase required) wireless network and a second, “public” network. The second network can be encrypted or not, as your heart and/or neighborhood desires. And, if you find your neighbors are busy sucking all your bandwidth watching YouTube, you can throttle back the bandwidth. Management is easy as cheese pie. Fabio could do it.

The two separate networks are isolated from the other — in a nutshell, these beauties provide dual networks out -of-the-box, one for you and the machines you trust, and one for everybody else and their dirty habits.

Finally, icing the cake nicely is the mesh stuff. Because these Mini Routers will operate as either a router OR a “mesh” repeater, it’s easy to extend coverage through your own particular Faraday cage or neighborhood. Need more range, just add more mini-routers.

Once added, any additional Mini Router will automatically “link” to its next closest brethren, extending the range of your wireless network without additional cabling. I have been told that there is an effective range of about 100-300 feet between each hop, and that three hops is the limit. Keep that in mind, your mileage may vary. Nevertheless, unless you’re hooking up a mini-mansion, one or two should be sufficient to extend and boost your internet connection into the nether regions of your office or home. If you are hooking up a home the size of Bill Gates’, you can always mix and match, interspersing wired Mini Routers with unwired repeaters. You do need to provide power to the beasties, though. A Swiss Army knife is not required.

Here are the facts. The original source of those numbers is a 1994 report by the Standish Group called the CHAOS REPORT. The report said this about IT projects (and I’m paraphrasing not plagiarizing):

• 31% of [IT] projects are cancelled before completion,
  
• 88% are over deadline or over budget or both,
  
• The costs of such overruns are usually (at least) double original estimates
  

If you think those numbers are sort of long in the tooth, how about these from 2004.

• 18 percent of all IT project out and out fail,
  
• 53 percent are “challenged” (in other words went awry in some way),
  
• Only 29 percent actually “succeed.”
  

These were updated in 2004. Unfortunately, the damn researchers rearranged the categories, so it’s actually impossible to compare the numbers.

Pie Charts are Fun

Taken another way, 70 percent or all projects go at least slightly pear-shaped. That’s abysmal. It’s no wonder nonprofits are technologically gun-shy. Seventy percent of the time they feel royally screwed. I’d be gun-shy too. The fact is, looking at those numbers, a good E.D. should look upon all IT projects with some degree of skepticism. Imagine if 70 percent of your dates never showed up, or if 70 percent of your email went unnoticed or unanswered, or if 70 percent of the time you ordered dinner in a restaurant you didn’t get what you ordered. It would be enough to give a guy a complex.

“Hey, who ordered the Kansas City rib-eye,” says the waiter. “I did,” you reply. “Sorry,” says the waiter,” we don’t have steak. Here’s some fried city pigeon.” “But, I wanted steak…,” you mumble. “It’s almost the same thing, just as good,” says the waiter. “Besides, it’s local,” he adds, a marketer’s grin plastered ear-to-ear. “You know, it’s slow food, at least this one was slow. That’ll be ten bucks more.”

Why do good projects go bad, and what does that mean?

Usually, the answer is simple — lack of clarity about the goals. People mix up the ends with the means. They garble their goals. They lose sight of the purpose, the raison d’être. They mistake the means for the ends, or they really didn’t have any clear goals in the first place. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.  Let me give you an example, mixing up the means and the ends is deadly.

Recently, a friend of mine recounted a story over dinner. He had been at a meeting of international grant makers, funders, and other philanthropic types. Good people all, I am sure. Nevertheless, at this meeting, these folks were busy patting themselves on the back about their successes with Darfur. The successes, it seems, were many — increased public awareness, social networking sites, widgets and mashups, letters to Congress, web site visitors, etc, etc. All their outcomes were terrific; all the measures spelled success, with a capital “S.”

I looked at my friend and said “But…” “Exactly,” he said. “There is still a war. People are still dying. This is not success.”

Writ large, this is also one of my overarching philanthropic fears. I fear the tyranny of false outcomes. I fear an overemphasis on “outcome measurement,” an emphasis that forces the philanthropic world to think and act solely in terms of all things measurable, thus missing the forest for the trees and mistaking the measures or the outcome for the true goals.

I fear this will, in fact, drive us to a place where success is only something that is measurable, that is quantifiable. I fear that it will drive us to tiny measures, to secondary goals, easily measured, and easily met, and that will drive us to tunnel vision, all the while ignoring the true goals, the real ends — declaring the success of a fund-raising campaign and forgetting why we were raising the money in the first place.

If you mix up the means — things like memberships, activists, letters to Congress, and the like — with the ends — people die and freedoms are lost while we count page hits.

In IT, the demons entrance the audience with the shiny and new — we’re distracted, fascinated by the glitter and gleam, and lose sight of the goals. In my mind, any project that begins with a list of gadgets, software, hardware, or more trained monkeys, is the problem.

I blame lack of leadership. Moreover, I blame the IT directors and CIO’s, the project managers, and IT consultants, and, since I’m blaming people, the ED’s too. If a project goes bad, the odds are someone has mixed up goals, and scrambled the ends. I dare say somebody probably over-sold the whole thing too. Beware the marketer; else you’re likely to be eating pigeon.

In a nutshell, this is the reason a lot of nonprofit IT directors or CIOs or the like feel misunderstood, underappreciated, or downright alienated. They talk about the shiny, the new, the means, and forget about the goal, the purpose, the end. Do that and you’ll end up in that 70 percent.

I fault two specific things: dashed expectations and lack of vision. Setting goals, and setting expectations about those goals, is the key to a long life, whiter teeth, and a better love life. Ah, well, maybe I’m exaggerating. But understanding goals and setting expectations is the key to happy — successful — IT projects. White teeth are just a bonus.

It’s pathological, you techies: you over-promise and under-deliver. For many a geek, technology is an end, gadget as goal. If you lose the goal, lose clarity of purpose, your good projects will go bad.

It starts with a project divorced from vision — the vision of the organization — tacked instead to some secondary, usually measurable but secondary, outcome. It ends with what I call the “expectations gap” — the difference between what is promised, what is really possible, and the eventual, actual results.

• The “promised” — this is what the market usually over promises, whiter teeth, bigger naughty bits of all variety, better, faster, and, of course, you’ll have more friends. Usually it’s absolute hogwash.
• The “possible” — this is what could occur, if absolutely everything goes swimmingly, and all the stars align just right. This is what should be your goal.
• The “actual” — this is what gets delivered.

The trick here is to know the goal, keep the vision clear, and to simply not over promise. Success here is to make the “actual” equal the “possible.” But, if you promised too much, you’ve already failed. Be clear — even painfully honest — about what’s possible, and communicate so often that it hurts. Set expectations wisely. Mind the gap.

I love books — the look and feel, even the smell. They’re almost perfect: relatively portable, random-access, and — treated properly — they’ll last a hell of a long time. If you get tired of them, you can give them away, sell them on eBay, take them to a used-book store, or burn them for kindling, al la Fahrenheit 451… They look grand on bookshelves. They’re almost perfect. The do have a few draw backs:

• Books (and paper) are heavy — especially those damn 4-inch thick computer books.
• Books are not very portable — small quantities are fine, but if you try to take ten or so on vacation with you, it’s a literal drag. Despite their catchy name, Few “Pocket Books” will actually fit in a pocket — or if they do, you look kind of stupid.
• Paper takes up a lot of space — especially those damn user guides, administrator guides, and installation manuals I print and bind in 3-ring notebooks.
• Printed materials tend to “expire” — Today’s newspaper is worth about a dollar, yesterday’s is suitable for wrapping fish. (Of course, tomorrow’s newspaper, if you had it today, would be worth a fortune.)
• Repurposing is difficult — Transmutation costs are outrageous, either lead to gold, or paper to digital. Screw OCR, it’s not good enough, ever.
• Paper is expensive — There a “tree-cost” and an environmental cost. The manufacture and bleaching of paper is horrendous. Stand downwind of a pulp mill and breath deep. You’ll know what I mean.
• The print publishing process is arcane — the economies discourage risk and tend to favor existing authors and large publishers, to the determent of the small publisher or aspiring writers.

In late 2007, Jeff Bezos introduced the Kindle. I’m not sure he’ll be remembered in the same breath as Herr Hoffmann Johannes Gensfleisch zur Laden zum Gutenberg (whew). At least his name is shorter. The Kindle is, nevertheless, revolutionary.

Life’s Little Ironies

I got mine in late January of 2008. I feel I’m standing at the edge of history. Despite the book’s drawbacks, it was with some concern for my eternal soul — and some trepidation about the future — that I ordered a Kindle. A classic conundrum, I was caught in a lovers triangle, torn between my love of books and my love of shiny new gadgets. I couldn’t resist. I did not get it simply because I had an extra 400 simoleons burning a hole in my pocket though. I had a real purpose in mind, really. But I do like gadgets.

Gavin’s Second Element of Effective Knowledge Management In Action (I finish two sets of bookcases the week the Kindle arrives)

Just so we’re straight: let me assure you, I am not anxious to herald the end of the 600-year reign of the book. More so, after watching what the iPod and digital music has done to the music industry; I fear for the future. Newspapers are already suffering — perhaps on their last legs — put out to pasture by something as innocent as Craig’s List. Information may want to be free, but writers (and journalists) also want to eat. I think they should. Nevertheless, I bought a Kindle – hoping to fill it with user manuals, installation guides, and 4-inch-thick computer books (and a little pulp SciFi for long airplane rides).

Ironically, my Kindle arrived just after I had spent untold hours building, drilling, cutting, measuring, cutting again, cursing, painting, staining, sanding, and trimming some 30-odd-feet of book shelves for some of my thousand-odd books. There was barely time to admire my work before it was time to ponder the future of books. Had it all been a waste of time? They’re awful purty, if I do say so myself.

The Difference Engine

The Kindle is different; it changes the rules of the game. First, it’s wired, in a wireless sort of way. It comes bundled with a lifetime, free wireless connection to the ‘net — an EVDO connection, no less, via Sprint.

That’s right, you heard me —free. Once you shell out the 400 clamasaurs, you can browse the web, surf to your heart’s content for not another plug nickel. You see, the connectivity is bundled as a cost of sales, book sales. Amazon is betting on making up that cost with the sale of content; figuratively giving away the razors and hoping to sell you a razorblade in the form of a $9.77 Kindle-ized copy of Sweeny Todd (the book, not the movie).

They’ve made the process so painless it’s scary. Gratification is instantaneous. Click a button on the beast, and the book arrives, wirelessly, painlessly, ruthlessly efficient. I worry it’s too painless. Now, when I finish the first book in a three-part trilogy, the next book in the series is just a click away. This could cause a clamasaur problem.

I admit, at first glance, the Kindle looks funny. I was disheartened by its design, seeing the initial press coverage. In the pictures it looked like it was designed for the DHARMA Initiative (right here in Ann Arbor), circa 1968. Up close, though it’s not that bad — kind of retro, kind of not.

It’s here that I think the wonky gadget geeks missed their marks, and missed them badly.

The pundits, previously spoiled by the elegant beauty of all-things iPod, almost universally panned the Kindle, complaining about pretty much everything. But they especially complained that it was impossible to hold and “funny looking” (a technical term meaning not an iPhone). Once I had mine in my hands, I knew where those grumpy geeks had gone wrong. They had been using the Kindle naked. I mean the Kindle was naked, not the gadget geeks. (Don’t go there.)

In the half-dozen reviews I saw or read, every Kindle was demoed without its leather case. It was a logical mistake on their part. They’re used to looking at iPhones, and iPods, and other iThings — we can blame bad iPoddy training. The iPod “case,” for example, is a worthless throwaway specifically designed to make you spend another couple of hundred dollars on iPod accessories.

Back to the point, the Kindle, sans the (included) cover, is awkward to hold. However, properly attired, dressed up in nice leather, it all flows, it all makes sense. This cover is integral. You need it.

A Properly Dressed Kindle

Easy to Hold | Easy to Read

Without its cover, there is no easy place to put your fingers, no logical place to grab it at all. In fact, everything you touch seems to toggle the pages, either forward or back.

Slip it in its cover, however, and suddenly all the weird angles make sense. The left edge sort of slips into two leather brackets, and the weird angles on the right side now provide purchase for your thumb on the cover— they’re cutbacks that let you easily hold the thing without mashing the (now handy) “Next Page” bar. There’s a little plastic tab that snaps into the rubberized underside of the beast that holds it all in place. (Pundits, apparently, don’t read manuals.)

With the cover on, I find myself holding it just like I would hold a hardback book; palms on the cover and thumbs on each edge. Nothing could be more natural. It “feels” like a book. Moreover, it reads like a book. I’ve even taken to taking it to bed, reading a few pages of a novel before The A Daily Show. Let me say that again: it reads like a book. The transition was painless. My luggage has just shed 10 lbs.

It has a couple of other features, some worth mentioning, some not. There’s a speaker, but it’s lousy. Given that, it will play music and audio books. Through headphones or ear-buds the sound’s great. I gave it the Amy Winehouse test, and it passed. But, I’m not giving up my iPod (which is filled with Audiobooks anyway). Besides, there’s no way I could easily wire it into my car without feeling real foolish. Of note, you can put it “to sleep” — locking the keyboard — and the music or audio books will continue to play. This is important; otherwise the cover clicks the mousy-roller thing, playing havoc.

The Weight of Water

The Unabridged Mark Twain 3 Lbs – 4 Oz	The Buying of Congress 1 Lb – 12 Oz	The Hero with a Thousand Faces 1 Lb – 4 Oz	Gavin’sKindle (w / 2GB & cover) 1 Lb

Weight-wise, the Kindle is elegant. It weighs in at exactly one pound, cover included. At first, I thought: “a pound, damn, that’s kind of heavy for a book, ain’t it?” Turns out, it’s not. (And, quite frankly, the Kindle is smaller than it looks in any picture.)

Just for the fun, I decided to run its “comps” — to compare it to a few other books I had laying around on the nightstand.

As you can see in the pictures above, a typical paper-back “trade” book, as represented by The Hero with a Thousand Faces, weighs over a pound and is also slightly larger. A hardback (an embargoed copy of Chuck Lewis’s The Buying of Congress) is almost twice that. A paper-back, unabridged Mark Twain Reader is over 3 lbs. But, then again, Mark Twain is worth his weight in gold. Paperback pulp fiction, the kind I find in airports and carry from country to country, town to town, weighs in at about a pound.

Size-wise digital books on the Kindle average between 500K and 800K. Calculating liberally, that means that my beast, outfitted as it is with a 2GB SD card I found in a drawer, can hold over 2,000 books. With that kind of space, I am going to be well read, but broke.

Here’s the deal: Kindle books typically cost less. By my reckoning, I’ll save the purchase price within two years, on computer books alone. I am, on the other hand, worried about my local Borders, the Kindle’s gain, is their loss. I take solace in the fact that clicking the Kindle is no substitute for my weekly trip to the Border’s redoubt.

Books on the Kindle are cheaper than paper… Here’s a random comparison of titles and prices.

Depending on the book, savings run from nothing, up to about 26 percent of the print edition. Savings over hardback costs are greater still, but that comparison seems unjust, since the difference seems irrelevant.

[Borders, by the way, no doubt fearing the loss of my business, has opened a new concept store in town. It incorporates "digital media and internet features" — a concept they are calling the "media room." I haven't been yet — been too busy building bookcases and playing with my Kindle.]

The Future of Ideas

Finally, with the Kindle, I had two ideas I wanted to pursue — two ideas I used to justify the purchase to myself:

1. I use it as a “geek reference library” — loading it up with PDF copies of manuals, installation guides, administrator references, and all the other desiderata of CIO life (as well as books).
2. There were possible “enterprise” uses — could I, for example, use it for board materials? Would it effectively bridge the gap between things “printed” and things “digital,” serving that in-between no-man’s-land land where we still want paper, but despise it.

The Portable Geek

The first idea turned out to be easy. There are three easy ways to turn other documents, like PDFs, into things that can be read on the Kindle. It’s not perfect, but it works. It works best with text-heavy documents. Graphics can be a problem. They don’t scale well.

At issue here is the ability to scale — fonts and graphics — from “I can read it” to “I can read it across the room.” The text has to be able to “flow” — to adjust to the screen as you up the font size.

Amazon’s native format — a DRM’ed version of the MobiPocket eBook format — does this. Word documents and text documents do this. This makes Kindle conversion easier. PDF’s don’t flow all that well, especially if they’re graphic-heavy. To set the record straight: the Kindle supports Amazon’s DRM format (.AZW), as well as unprotected MobiPocket formats (.PRC and .MOBI) and Text documents. Other formats (like Word and HTML) must be converted

With all of them, Word, PDF, HTML, or Text, the conversion is easy. There are three ways. Two are free, and one costs $0.10 per document. The ten cents is for the wireless delivery.

1. Convert via Email (without wireless delivery) — simply email the file to a special Amazon email address, they’ll convert it for you, and they’ll email it back to you. You then drag it on to your Kindle from your PC.
2. Convert via Email (with wireless delivery) — simply email the file to Amazon to a (slightly) different email address, they’ll convert for you it and email it directly to your Kindle for a cost of ten cents. It arrives on the Kindle via the wireless connection.
3. Convert manually — simply download a (free) copy of the MobiPocket Reader software, and click the button to convert the file to the MobiPocket format. It takes a few seconds and stores it on your hard-drive. Once done, you just drag it into the Documents folder on the Kindle.

That’s it. With a little “conversion” work, I had a complete technical reference library on my Kindle. Moreover, it was searchable. Everything on the Kindle is searchable. That’s what the keyboard is for. Just a few (tiny) keystrokes and you get a KWIC listing of any term you enter. Idea number “One” was a success. I had my geek library, portable, searchable; I’d never suffer insomnia again.

Enterprise and Culture

The other idea, enterprise applications, is slightly problematic. The Kindle, like many of today’s gadgets, does not lend itself well to enterprise. DRM gets in the way, much as it gets in the way of using a Kindle within a library. That’s a problem that needs solving. In my mind, the solution is easy, the answer, simple: like a physical book; a digital book should only be in one place at a time. How this is done, is easy too, but I’ll save that idea for some other time.

DRM aside, there are a few uses where the Kindle has an enterprising chance — a chance to function as a wedge between the analog and the digital world.

Organizationally, for example, we produce and ship an amazing amount of paper, all for an internal audience. Non-profits in general do the same thing. I’m talking about all those board documents; updated policy manuals, bylaws, program plans, pandemic plans, and disaster recovery plans. In organizations today, documents fly through the email-aether. But, in the end, a surprising number end up on paper, in binders, and three-ring notebooks.

The reason is simple. Humans — especially those of longer tooth — don’t especially like to read lengthy documents on LCD. Even short-toothed people don’t like reading long documents on an LCD screen. Enter the Kindle.

My thought is to replace all those “reference-type materials” — Board materials for example — with a Kindle and digital copy. Even at $400 a pop we’d save on in-house publishing costs (not to mention the FedEx bills). Moreover, for the most part, these sorts of documents are not “interactive” they’re reference.

Nevertheless, they’re necessary. And, they’re heavy, awkward, and difficult to transport. They suffer the same liabilities as the “book.” Kindle-izing them would save time, save paper, keep everything centralized and up-to-date, and allow a 10-cent, near instantaneous delivery.

In the end, I am reminded again of Gutenberg. It turns out he only printed about 180 Bibles. He made his money running a press on the side, printing thousands of indulgencies for the Church. It’s an old story, innovation flows to demand. Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose. Perhaps I’m indulging myself, but I suspect Gutenberg would approve.

Since that foray into Betatown, MS released a new WHS version, the so-called “RC1″ or “release candidate 1″ edition — just a little bit closer to an actual commercial release. Just between you and me, I don’t pretend to follow Microsoft’s various mystical and mysterious machinations as it (slowly) walks a product to market. RC1, or Beta 3, or CTP, they’re all beta’s to me. It means you can’t buy it, yet. It also means install at your own risk. A beta, by any other name, is still likely to break your heart, eat your hard drive, and maybe shred your collection of precious Godzilla DVD rips.

While I am on the subject of both the mystical and Godzilla — has anybody noticed that Microsoft has a severe case of marketing schizophrenia? At times, it’s almost comical.

Why, on one hand, with WHS, are they introducing network file shares for the home market, while simultaneously encouraging migration away from shares (to things like SharePoint) in all other markets? Why didn’t they just bundle SharePoint Services (WSS) with WHS? They could have called it a “break-through in web-based home file storage” and garnered lots of hype. It makes a whole lot more sense than their decision to introduce a line of furniture in the form of a table-sized PC. Gack! That thing only serves to remind me of wasted hours with the lovely Ms. Pac Man.

Mystical musing aside, I was nevertheless eager to once again take another walk on the seedy side of Betatown, so I installed RC1. (Everything was running just fine, so it seems a perfect time to screw things up.)

The upgrade itself was uneventful, smooth even; smooth enough to make me nervous. So far: “Everything is beautiful and nothing hurt.” This also seemed an opportune time to take a look at the “add-ins” feature of WHS.

What are they? Well, they’re little server based processes — that do things. The one I specifically wanted to see was something called PhotoSync. It supposedly automates uploads to Flickr from a designated WHS folder or folders. I thought that sounded like a neat idea. I’ve been having lots of fun lately with Flickr. (Shameless self-promotion alert: I’m especially fond of this one I call “Looking for the heart of Saturday night,” with apologies to Tom Waits.)

The concept behind PhotoSync is simple: You put photographs in a designated WHS folder and it will automagically post them to your Flickr account. I tried it. It worked. It was nice.

The down side: it didn’t do tagging, at least not yet. But it will automatically create new photo sets. That’s a nice feature. Moreover, it will automatically title the photographs based upon the name of the file. All in all, a nice piece of work, that.

On the side, what’s also nice is the “add an add-in” process itself. (Try saying that fast.) It’s brain-dead simple. You need only copy the appropriate installation files to the appropriate folder on WHS. Moreover — in a true break from tradition — the appropriate folder was even logically named (\Software\Add-ins).

When an add-In is copied to the right folder, it shows up on the WHS management console. You click the button to install, or, if it’s already installed, you click the button to un-install it. Simple.

Unfortunately, there appear to be relatively few add-ins available — maybe four or five max. Nevertheless, they are all “community developed” and freebies, which is pretty cool. You can find them at a place called We Got Served. I note that there is a handy µTorrent client, and some sort of media extender that will stream media (music, DVDs, videos, photos) called WebGuide.

Meanwhile, while I was doing all the requisite staring into space that goes hand in hand with any software installation, I got to pondering… a dangerous thing, that. When I ponder, I get ideas — wild ideas, fanciful ideas — sometimes they lead me on a journey of discovery, other times I just end up breaking things.

What I got to pondering about was SharePoint and Windows Home Server. I got to thinking about the fact that WHS was just a stripped-down version Server 2003, the OS required for Window SharePoint Services (the free version). To me, it seemed such a shame, such a waste of resources — to have a whole server doing not much but humming to its self. What a waste of processing power, and resources, and potential.

Now, clearly I could install Seti@home, feel good about my carbon footprint or some such, and simultaneously help search for intelligent life in Washington, but I had a better idea. [Besides, I think that's fruitless; alien life, sure, absolutely, but Washington, not likely at least for another 18 months; highly doubtful even then.]

Instead, I pondered up this idea: Why not build a Frankenstein —and… I could even name the server “Abby Normal” — I could transplant a WSS brain into WHS body! Clearly I have watched too much Mystery Science Theater 3000. Just as clearly, I’m entertained by simple things.

Anyway, my logic went like this: if it’s Server 2003, why can’t it run SharePoint too? Besides, it’s free. I could even use it when I wanted to do some SharePoint development at home and, well, who knows, it might be handy. Besides, what have I got to lose except all my backups?

The fact is, I could imagine a nice WSS/WHS Frankenstein, err … Fronkensteen, as being very handy for your typical nuclear, post-nuclear, and not-so-nuclear family.

In my mind — strange as it may be — the typical features of a small “team” site might be quite applicable to both the home market and the small NGO market — shared calendar, “cork” board, shared file storage, etc. Having a quick and dirty WSS Intranet happily humming on WHS might just be the ticket.

It also fit in to my plans to write up a couple of SharePoint “use case” studies I was thinking of calling “Gavin’s Five-Minute Guide to SharePoint Intranets.” (Coming soon to a theater near you.)

“What a grand idea,” I said to myself. So, I set out to see if it could be done.

Give my creation life!

The short story is: yes, it can be done. In fact, it was easy as pie. First you need a brain…

Seriously, there was only one small SNAFU, and that was easily solved with some quick tweaks to IIS (Internet Information Server) — changing a few ports around so that all the various web sites would work. Below, I lead you through how to do it and how to avoid the SNAFU.

Here are the simplified steps:

1. Login to WHS as administrator and ignore the big splash screen warning that your naughty bits are going to fall off if you mess about with stuff. Relax, really. Trust me <evil grin>.
   
2. Grab your mouse and prepare to mess about. Close the warning window — out of sight, out of mind — and open IIS Manager.
   
3. In IIS Manager, locate the “Default Web Site” in the Web Server’s list, and change the port from 80 to 81. Leave the SLL port (443) the same. If you want to know why, I explain what this does at the end of this posting.
   
4. Open “My Computer” and create a folder on the root of the [D:] drive and name it WSSIndex. We’ll use it later to hold the WSS index files and avoid filling up the limited space on [C:]. (WHS sets up a rather small [C:] partition, so I figured not to crowd it.)
   
5. Download WSS if you haven’t got it already, it’s here. Then double-click the install file (it’s called “SharePoint.exe”)
   
6. Accept the EULA, ignoring the fact that you’ve probably just offered up your firstborn to Satan.
   
7. At the dialog window where you choose an installation type, choose the option for “Advanced.”
   
8. On the next dialog window, click on the “Data Location” tab, and switch where the beast stores its index files. Change it to the folder you created on the [D:] drive, e.g., D:\WSSIndex.
   

   
   

9. Go back to the “Server Type” tab, select the option for “Stand-Alone” and press the “Install Now” button.
   
10. Make a cup of tea and pet the dog for a while as it installs. Consider making a political donation or moving (back) to Canada, or both, or maybe Scotland.
    

    
    

11. When Windows is done whirring and installing, click the “Close” button, making sure the checkbox for “Run the Configuration Wizard” is checked. This will start the WSS configuration wizard.
    
12. Click “Next” to tell the wizard to keep on keeping wiz’ing, and accept the silly warning that a few services will be reset. It will run through all sorts of tasks — ten in all, so…
    
13. Make another cup of tea. Check your Gmail to see if anybody has written you lately. Sigh, sadly, at all the spam, close Gmail and go back to work.
    
14. If all goes well, about this time, Windows SharePoint Services should now be installed, and you should see something like this:
    

    
    

15. Click “Finish” … and if all went according to plan, you should be dropped at the default WSS web page. It should look sort of like the picture on the left (below). If you substitute “HTTPS” for “HTTP” you should see the default WHS site, as shown on the right (below).
    

You’re done, by the way. You’ve now got a SharePoint site to play with. Both the WSS and WHS web sites should be available at URLs shown above, from anywhere on your home network (substitute your server name, of course).

WSS itself is administered through the Control Panel, under Administrative Tools, and click the item labeled “SharePoint 3.0 Central Administration.” The first thing to do is add authorized users to the WSS site — if you’ve set up WHS with local users, you can use the same login credentials (user accounts) on WSS. You add them right under site actions, site settings, “People and Groups.” Easy as pie.

Have fun!

About Port 80 and Port 81:

I mentioned above that I’d talk briefly about why we moved one web server from port 80 to port 81. Port 80, as you no doubt know, is the default web server port. What we did is free-up port 80 for WSS. It simplifies the installation process, as the WSS wizard is going to use Port 80 no matter what. But, if we leave the WHS in place, on Port 80, the WSS installation wizard ends up shutting down the server on both port 80 and port 443 (SSL/HTTPS). By changing the default server to port 81 before hand, we avoid that problem, and the server on port 443 is left untouched.

It’s easy to do.

1. Open IIS Manager and locate the Default Web Site.
   
2. Right click and choose Properties. You should see a window like this:
   

   
   

3. Change the TCP port from 80 to 81 and click OK.
   
4. Right-click on the default web server and choose stop. Wait a few seconds and then right-click again, and choose start. That usually gets everything humming nicely again.
   

This way, it keeps everything neat – otherwise, the installation just stops the WHS instance and leaves it stopped. Sure, there are other approaches, including host headers and adding additional IP addresses to the network interface. But this is the simplest and has no impact that I can see.

Quite frankly, I don’t think you need the WHS web server on port 80. All that web site does is redirect you to the SSL port (443). It’s simpler and easier to just use HTTPS for your WHS server and leave WSS as is, on port 80. So far, it’s worked just fine for me.