Saturday, March 29, 2025

What Is ChatGPT Great At (and Not)?

Introduction

If you are reading this post long after its March 2025 publication date, you might become puzzled at its many failings until you realize, “Oh, wait, this was written back when Dana wrote his own blog posts instead of assigning them to GPT-28-turbo-XL-prime! The lameness is because he did his own very light research instead of basing his observations on the entire body of knowledge of the Internet, and because it’s a plebian human voice instead of an infinitely exalted and witty A.I.!”

I have now blogged 14 times about A.I. and its evolution. My last ChatGPT check-in was about three months ago. The A.I. version hasn’t changed since then; as of this writing it’s still GPT-4-turbo. But what has changed is the range of tasks I’ve experimented with. I now realize my previous posts failed to appreciate some of the things ChatGPT does really well. This post showcases those, while also providing commentary on what the A.I. still does not excel at (and likely never will). You’ll also learn more about why you may have seen an annoying banner about cookies at the top of this blog.


Caveat

This post is mostly about ChatGPT though it touches on Google Gemini. What it doesn’t cover is the “Visual Look Up” feature on Apple’s iOS platform that leverages “Siri Knowledge.” I don’t currently own any Apple products (except an iPod mini in a drawer somewhere) so all I know about Siri is that it did a comically poor job of identifying the breed of my brother’s cat today, based on this snapshot he sent me:


How an A.I. could think any image looks like both a cougar and a wallaby is beyond me. I’m going to assume Apple is so far behind in the arms race that we can simply ignore it for now.

Real-world problem solving with GPT-4-turbo

Until recently I’d only messed around with GPT-4 for the purpose of evaluating it (and, whenever possible, mocking it). But then I hit upon a real-world use case and dove back in. My motivation, which I’m sure you’ll relate to, was: HOT CASH MONEY. Who wouldn’t want this, other than those tedious killjoys who spout aphorisms like “Money is the root of all evil”?

By way of background, I’d noticed that the albertnet page view count had soared in recent months. It took this blog something like 14 years to reach a million page views, but in the last six months alone I’ve now seen almost 1.4 million more. But then, isn’t this how the Internet works? Moore’s Law? Nielsen’s Law? All that compounding magic? In the whole time I’ve had this blog I never even considered monetizing it through ads, but every man has his price. (I’m not sure exactly what mine is, but I reckon I’ll know it when I see it.)

Driven mad with money-lust like one of the guys in “Treasure of the Sierra Madre,” I needed answers—fast. So I asked GPT-4-turbo, “My blog, www.albertnet.us, has received 1.2 page views in the last three months and traffic is increasing. If I turned on Adsense, approximately how much money would I earn per month?”

Yes, “1.2 page views” is a typo, but I didn’t make it here … that’s actually what I asked ChatGPT. It replied, “What the hell do you mean 1.2 page views? How do you have 2/10 of a page view? Did some user barely see the screen, like out of his peripheral vision? Or are you just whacked out on coke and smack and typed your query wrong?”

Okay, you got me … that’s not at all how GPT replied, though honestly I think that would be the better answer. What it actually provided was a lengthy essay, full of data points and computations, answering this useless question. My favorite part of the response was, “Number of Page Views (Traffic) – You’ve mentioned you have 1.2 page views in the last three months, which is approximately 400 page views per month (assuming the traffic is consistent).”

Huh? How do you get 400 by dividing 1.2 by 3? I guess the chatbot arbitrarily assumed the figure I provided was in thousands. That’s a pretty big logical leap, and GPT didn’t document the fact of this assumption. It then proceeded to run a bunch of calculations based on 1,200 views, the punch line being that I could make about $2/month. So the more succinct answer would have been, “Dream on, bloggy-boy.”

When I corrected my original query to 1.2 million page views, GPT-4-turbo reran its calculations and informed me that I might expect to earn something in the neighborhood of $2,000/month in passive income. Now we’re talking! It did suggest a number of caveats, such as how my  results might be affected by the geographical location of my readers, the positioning and type of ads, ad targeting, how well ads match my content, user engagement, and so on. I asked it a bunch more questions specific to Adsense, whether GPT’s estimated click-thru rate (CTR) assumption is realistic, etc. While it provided all kinds of useful info, it missed one very important rule of thumb: if something seems too good to be true, it probably is.

I mean, come on … albertnet is a blog about nothing. I’m not going on political rants that cause trolls to leave endless acerbic comments and then forward my post to 90 friends with an exasperated preface like “can you believe this shit?!?!!?!” If all it took to create a nice passive income stream was to blog every single week for 15 years straight so that after more than 3,500 hours of writing you’ve amassed over 750 posts, comprising over 2 million (juicy, searchable) words, then everybody would be getting into this business, obviously. If quality, rather than nudity, attracted people’s attention, every liberal arts grad on the planet would be driving a Benz. (Well, except for me, because regardless of my income—actual, theoretical, or pipe-dreamed—I will always be the world’s cheapest man driving a used Volvo.)

I feel really bad for the earnest blogger who sees all this traffic growth, does a basic ChatGPT query, thinks he can trust the response, and makes a lot of effort adding ads to his blog to harness this new fountain of riches. I hope nobody is that naïve. Since I’m not, my first impulse was to get a second opinion. So I put my query to Google Gemini, without the typo this time, and it gave me a very similar answer: I could make right around $2K a month, just for setting up Adsense and then sitting on my ass!

This seems like the kind of claim I’d get from a spammer. In fact, I’m going to check my spam right now to look for this kind of hoax. Hmm, that’s odd. Though 22 of my 50 spam messages are from recruiters, none is this specific. I do, however, have a message from “Super-size” titled, “Now imagine each night, having 5 or 10 concubines around you, each one craving your masculine essence in them. #632352.” This subject line is interspersed with various emoji including, oddly enough, an avocado. Is avocado a concubine’s favorite food? Let me ask ChatGPT. Okay, it replied in the negative, pointing out that concubines were prominent “in ancient or medieval times, when avocados were not available in their regions.” I think the innuendo of “in their regions” was accidental. (And now I’ve realized how long and pointless a digression this has been. I’m tempted to apologize, except this might end up being my favorite paragraph of this entire post.)

The caveat GPT-4-turbo should have provided is, “My calculated revenue assumes the page views are from actual readers, not bots.” The idea of bots grossly polluting my page view stats was my natural assumption, but not one GPT addressed. I think this is an important object lesson: it doesn’t matter how useful A.I.’s responses are if you don’t know to ask the right question. Perhaps A.I. will advance to the point that it would not only sanity-check my page view stats, but would be the one to keep an eye on my blog traffic to watch out for moneymaking opportunities in my stead. (If and only if it knew albertnet to be an amazing viral sensation for reals.)

Where ChatGPT shines

After feeding me all that false hope, ChatGPT asked if I’d like help setting up Adsense on my blog. I decided instead to enlist its support vetting the quality of the page view stats. Having drilled down a bit on my own (which Blogger doesn’t make super easy, by the way), I discovered that page views from France were 12% of my total over the last six months, 14% over the last three months, and 39% over the last 30 days. I shared this with the chatbot and queried, “Is there A.I.-driven or bot type traffic that would originate in France that could artificially inflate the metrics around my readership?” (I now regret the specificity of this, as I was clearly “leading the witness.”)

ChatGPT responded with a clear and detailed essay about the probable causes, including “Bot Traffic (Most Likely Explanation).” It filled me in about scrapers and SEO crawlers and A.I. training bots, and suggested I use Google Analytics to investigate further. This ended up being an excellent suggestion and led to my most engaged use of GPT ever.

First I quizzed the chatbot about whether Google Analytics has a free version (it does), whether I’m giving up any privacy (basically not), etc. Then I set up Google Analytics (aka GA4), which was pretty straightforward, except I noticed in the Terms of Service that I’m expected to comply with GDPR (the EU General Data Protection Regulation) when gathering this detailed user data. I happen to know what GDPR is, so I asked GPT all about it, in terms of what I’m really expected to do to comply. It turns out that compliance is a royal pain in the arse (my words, not ChatGPT’s). Since I do get readers from Europe (whether it’s 39% of all traffic or not), I need to have a publicly posted privacy policy and a banner announcing my use of cookies (which is how GA4 can track usage). I almost abandoned the whole project, on the mere assumption that my page view stats are so obviously bogus I don’t need to expend all this effort verifying it, but then … what if these traffic stats aren’t bogus? What if I really could just sit back and rake in money? Isn’t it worth spending some time and effort investigating the possibility?

I asked GPT for some nice boilerplate text for the privacy policy, and though much if its response was unusable, some of it was good, and if nothing else this rough draft prevented writer’s block and paved the way for my policy, which you can read here and which I’ve linked to in my blog’s footer. (I’ll need to revise that policy pretty radically, as you shall see, but it’s probably a good thing to have anyway.) The harder task was creating that cookie banner, since it’s not just a static digital placard but an actual functional utility that captures a user’s cookie preferences and turns them into policies that impact the behavior of GA4. That is no small feat, and probably nothing I’d tackle on my own.

Before I pressed on I had a long, rambling discussion with ChatGPT about how to get everything going. I learned a ton, including info about the following:

  • The various metrics I’d be able to get from GA4 (i.e., is this truly worth it?)
  • What free utilities exist that could be leveraged for setting up the cookie banner and how to choose the best one
  • Approximately how long it would take to set up the banner based on the chosen utility
  • How to create a Google Tag and write an HTML script for my blog’s template that would invoke it
  • How to create the HTML script that would invoke the banner
  • How to pause GA4 if I have trouble invoking the banner (spoiler: I did)
  • How to back up my blog’s HTML template before messing with it (though GPT didn’t suggest this, which again illustrates the difference between a) being able to describe how to do something, and b) taking the initiative to do that thing)
  • How to debug my script and figure out why it’s not working

These weren’t just general instructions it provided that I’d have to suss out on my own. GPT4-turbo provided sample script text that actually worked (eventually). Here’s an example of its suggested script:

 <head>
    <!-- Your other head tags -->
    <script async src="https://www.googletagmanager.com/gtag/js?id=YOUR_TRACKING_ID"></script>
    <script>
        window.dataLayer = window.dataLayer || [];
        function gtag(){dataLayer.push(arguments);}
        gtag('js', new Date());
        gtag('config', 'YOUR_TRACKING_ID');
    </script>
</head>

To reiterate, I am not a seasoned HTML jockey and would have struggled with this syntax, to say the least, were it not for the chatbot’s help. And even if I had originally built my blog from scratch (i.e., coding all the HTML myself without a Blogger template), I’d have been rusty enough now that I’d have been wise to leverage GPT for this task anyway. As I went through all this scripting, it dawned on me why a lot of people are worried about A.I. taking our jobs. This is just basic HTML but GPT was hugely helpful; If I were a full-on programmer and suddenly became (say) twice as efficient because I was grabbing blobs of basic code for simple operations instead of creating them from scratch every time, I’d naturally consider how all my colleagues have also become twice as efficient, and I’d start to worry about my employer realizing they could make do with half their programming staff. Scary stuff.


The upshot

Once GA4 was up and running, ChatGPT was very helpful in walking me through understanding all its metrics, not all of which were very intuitive. In a perfect world, I’d have discovered an average engagement time of ten minutes per post, indicating actual human readers. In reality, I learned that—guess what?—average engagement time is under three minutes, and GA4 shows way fewer page views than the Blogger stats. In other words, Blogger most likely is reporting on a lot of bogus visits from bots. If ChatGPT were like a really cool know-it-all big brother, it would have said, in response to my very first inquiry about the growth in traffic, “Dude, don’t trust the Blogger stats. They’re useless.” I wouldn’t have had to do all this research.


After asking ChatGPT a bunch of questions related to the delta in traffic as reported by each platform, I had it recalculate the ad revenue I might hope to get from my blog in light of the better data. It estimated about $0.40/month, and then went on to suggest a whole bunch of ways I could improve user engagement. I then led it on a thought exercise about how much of the real traffic is based on old posts, since a) albertnet posts are not timely, and b) the longer a post is up, the more views it will gradually accrue. GPT agreed with my assessment: that any improvements going forward would only marginally increase traffic and engagement, as they’d only apply to new posts.

Next I asked GPT for its best guess as to how much improvement I could achieve if I implemented all its suggestions … double? triple? tenfold? It replied that “doubling or tripling engagement is probably a reasonable and achievable short-term goal.” (This doesn’t impress me as intelligent … I think the chatbot is just highly suggestible.) I went on to ask, “Do you think it’s worth implementing these strategies with the goal of monetizing my blog through ad revenue?” It provided another long essay that concluded, “Yes, but with realistic expectations … treat ad revenue as a potential bonus or passive income stream, and consider other monetization strategies as well (affiliate marketing, sponsored content, or selling your own products/services).”

And this is where, I think, A.I. is still falling short. It’s great at helping the user with nuts-and-bolts technical tasks, especially those of the type performed countless times by other users (for example, inserting scripts to invoke GA4 and/or a cookie banner). But synthesizing a lot of information and drawing the best conclusion is still beyond its ability. By its own reckoning, my real, human traffic would bring in $0.40/month, and by implementing all its suggestions I might triple user engagement … but it failed to grasp that earning a mere $1.20/month isn’t worth any amount of effort. A.I. was ultimately unable to suggest the right strategy for me to take regarding my blog.

One last thing…

The sad part of this tale of exploration is how useless all my effort has ended up being. If I had any reason to suspect that, after fifteen years, my blog would suddenly go viral, I could keep an eye on Google Analytics to savor my success … but I don’t. I might as well be a frog looking in the mirror every morning to see if I’ve miraculously become a prince. Not that I actually care, mind you … as described here, I’m happy to be a humble frog croaking out my unsung song. But there’s no point bothering new readers with that cookie banner, especially since—as I recently discovered—the damn thing doesn’t even work.

This is another thing ChatGPT overlooked … it failed to suggest that I actually put that banner through its paces, which I’ve now done. Through basic experimentation I’ve discovered that it doesn’t end up mattering what preferences the user selects … his session is duly recorded in GA4. (Only if a user uses a Private or Incognito window are his sessions ignored … even if he allows all cookies.) Meanwhile, site visits from mobile users are not counted at all by GA4, I have just determined. That may be because I never got the banner to work on mobile, and Google can tell this and wants to observe the GDPR rules.

So now I have to go shut the whole thing down, to maintain GDPR compliance. The entire exercise was (to borrow from Shakespeare) “the expense of spirit in a waste of shame.” (Shakespeare was writing about lust, but I think his sonnet also covers the lust for money quite nicely.)

Check back in a week or so and (with ChatGPT’s help) I’ll have backed out the GA4 scripting and gone back to an unstudied, non-monetized blog with no banner. My privacy and cookie policy will have had a makeover as well. I’m no richer for this little exercise, but a bit wiser, and now you are too.

Other albertnet posts on A.I.

—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—
Email me here. For a complete index of albertnet posts, click here.

Thursday, March 20, 2025

From the Archives - Bits & Bobs Volume XIX

Introduction

This is the nineteenth installment in the “From the Archives – Bits & Bobs” series. Volume I of the series is here, Volume II is here, Volume III is here, Volume IV is here, Volume V is here, Volume VI is here, Volume VII is here, Volume XIII is here, Volume IX is here, Volume X is here, Volume XI is here, Volume XII is here, Volume XIII is here, Volume XIV is here, Volume XV is here, Volume XVI is here, Volume XVII is here, and Volume XVIII is here. This post holds the distinction of having the first palindromic volume number since Volume III. (Should you care? No. I don’t even care.) The different volumes have nothing to do with one another, and can be read in order, out of order, in pecking order, in good order, in court order, or in compliance with—or in defiance of—a restraining order.

What are albertnet Bits & Bobs? They’re the little bits of fascinating literary background that my biographer would be thrilled to discover, were I important enough and/or interesting enough to deserve a biography. These tidbits are like what magazines like Us or People Weekly would report on, vis-à-vis celebrities, if these periodicals employed text instead of just photos, and if I were really good looking. Most of these Bits & Bobs are snippets from personal correspondence. Others were written indelibly on my wrist or my psyche with a Sharpie.

The city where I was living at the time of each morsel is provided except where it’s Albany. Pay attention to the dates. Some of these dispatches are hella old. Others are just hecka old.


October 31, 1989 – Santa Barbara

I’ve had a bet with a bunch of guys on the cycling team since last year about the height of Australian cycling superstar Phil Anderson. [For context: this website ranks Phil the 40th best cyclist of all time; it ranks Greg LeMond only 67th.] Someone was trying to say Phil is only like 5’8” or 5’10” or something, which is absurd. I rode with him back to Boulder after the Coors Classic Morgul Bismark stage once, and he seemed a lot taller than that, giving me a great draft (though frankly he was a bit gassy). Anyway, Phil actually lives near here, and he went to a bike gear swap meet this past weekend to sell off some old clothing and such. My pals and I were all there so it was my chance to finally settle the argument. Just between you and me, Phil didn’t really look six feet tall after all. Nevertheless, I casually strolled over to him as though I hadn’t been a major fan for many years (ever since he was the first non-European to wear the yellow jersey in the Tour de France). My friends followed a small distance behind. I guess they were shy.

First, I tried to sell Phil an old Dura-Ace derailleur (just to see the look of pure incredulity on his face, which did not disappoint). Then I told him about the bet and asked him if he was in fact six feet tall. “Aye, I’m six one,” he said, in his cool Australian accent. I turned to J—, my main opponent in the debate, and said, “See! I told you so.” To my astonishment, J— actually tried to argue with Phil about it. That must have taken all the chutzpah he had, since if anything he’s an even bigger fan than I am. How do you simultaneously worship and refute such a vaunted celebrity? Phil told him, “Of course you look taller, mate, look at the thick shoes yer wearing!” J— was pissed (but not as pissed as he’ll eventually be after the tenth or twentieth time I tell this story). The victory could not have been sweeter, not even if Phil had indeed been six feet tall.

November 28, 1989 – Santa Barbara

I have a paper due in my Western History class and decided (based on a suggestion from the T.A.) to explain the Greek philosophy thread in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I’m not that interested in Greek philosophy, or even in history to be honest, but I wanted to read the Zen book anyway. So, I went to the library to get some reference books, and checked out two books on Plato’s Phaedrus character. I have to admit, I was in a rush and didn’t really vet them very thoroughly. So I got home, opened them up, and discovered that one of them is in Greek and another in Latin. Damn it!

March 9, 1996 – San Francisco

I was in my boss’s office when the regional director came in, and he invited us to go out for sushi after work, at a place near the office. (I assume I was invited because I happened to be in the room and it would’ve been rude to exclude me.) I don’t really know from good sushi but it all tasted pretty good. The director wanted to order sea urchin but wasn’t sure he wanted a full order to himself. Oddly, nobody seemed to want to share any with him. I’d never had it but thought well, how bad could it be? So I was like, “Yeah, I love sea urchin, let’s do it!” I mean, I just didn’t want the guy to not get his urchin, since we were all in such a festive and boisterous mood. Well, it turns out urchin is just this big glob of goo, kind of the consistency of a really bad mango, roughly the color of mustard. It was really disgusting—tastes like feet or something—but I had to play along, having pretended to be a fan. Well, I guess my acting was too good because the director was like, “Yeah, this is great, let’s get another round!”

The meal went on for a long time—we just kept ordering and ordering (must’ve cost a ton) and suddenly I realized I’d never called home and let E— know I wouldn’t be home for dinner. So I went to a pay phone and called. She was like, “Where are you, you need to get home! I got the job! We need to celebrate!” (She’d been interviewing for her first job as a full-on journalist.) So I went back out to the group and let them know I had to bail. My boss asked if everything was okay and I gave him the good news. “Wait … so you’re going out to celebrate, as in dinner?!” he asked, incredulous. I was like, “Well, yeah! We’re going to I Fratelli!” (That’s our favorite local Italian place). This didn’t seem like any big deal to me—as you know I’ve been duel-dinnering for many years—but the episode made me kind of a celebrity at work. My boss even clipped a cartoon of some bloated-looking guy fiddling with his belly, which had the caption, “Having forgotten to save room for dessert, Carl switches to his auxiliary stomach.” My boss changed “Carl” to “Dana” and “dessert” to “Italian dinner” and posted it in the break room.

August 4, 1996 – San Francisco

You should be able to find a used modem pretty easily, since the technology is improving all the time. Email doesn’t require a very fast modem, whereas veteran computer users like to download graphics, etc. which does. So, a lot of people have probably upgraded and have perfectly good, albeit slow, modems lying around gathering dust. See if you can find one, because I really think you’d like e-mail. It’s like letter writing but less formal (and of course doesn’t take 2-3 days to deliver).

August 22, 2009

Well, we’re back from London. You probably don’t want to hear about how great it was (and if you do, click here). So I’ll fill you in on what didn’t go so well. On the second night we should have made dinner at the house, for reasons of economy, but were still jet-lagged and didn’t feel like grocery shopping. So instead, we went to this cool pub to get fish-and-chips. We were staying in a very non-touristy area called Ealing (“Queen of the Suburbs,” declared a postcard), and the locals seem to have a distaste for tourists, or small children, or both. I guess we should have been grateful the pub even allowed kids. Well, ours were behaving badly, making too much noise and fighting, and I kept shushing them (amidst the glares of the other patrons), and finally I warned them that if they misbehaved one more time we’d leave and make PBJs at the house. I really hoped they’d take me seriously because I’d just spied Guinness Extra Cold* on draft, which I’d never even heard of and wanted to try, but the kids kept fighting and I had to show them I was serious. So I declared we were leaving. Both kids shrieked in protest, and L— flat-out refused to go. So I picked her up and threw her over my shoulder in the fireman-carry. We marched out of there, the kids literally kicking and screaming. From now on, whenever I need to emphasize that I mean business, I’m going to remind the girls about “the pub incident.”

*Come to think of it, what the Brits call “Guinness Extra Cold” is probably what we Americans would just call “Guinness.” That is, only in the UK do they normally serve beer cool instead of properly cold.

September 15, 2009

I had one of those random showdowns during my bike ride today, the equivalent of a pickup game of basketball with a stranger. I felt decent on the Claremont climb, but not great—I was sick yesterday and E— is sick as a dog (102 fever). So I was pedaling okay, but nothing special. About 2/3 of a mile from the end of my climb, some dude came zipping by me. He was on a really fancy Look, and had pretty good form, and I let him go—at first. But then I noticed that a) he had these deep-section carbon rims, which I’m obviously envious of, and these superlight brakes that Mark has, that don’t work for beans, meaning the guy’s a total weight weenie, and b) he was spinning this really, really high cadence. Like he’s one of these modern angry bikers, the scolds who are telling me I need lower gearing, and he was all “Look at me, I’m spinning, it’s so efficient and won’t hurt my knees!” Needless to say I was insulted. Oh, Mr. Modern, Mr. Latest Cycling Theory, Mr. Fancy-pants Superlight Bike ... well, how would you like a little old-fashioned whup-ass?! He was well ahead at this point, but that just meant I’d have an even bigger head of steam when I came by him.

At least, that’s how I figured it, but he must’ve been peeking back at me because as I approached, he accelerated too. I eventually caught on and latched onto his wheel, and I won’t kid you—I was dying. I decided I’d hang on there for a good while summoning the strength and will to come by him, but then I changed my mind and figured it would be a bigger statement to drop his ass right away and somehow hold him off. The grade got a bit shallower here, which I figured would favor me, being all heavy and angry and all. So I blasted right by him, upshifting several times as I did so to make sure my cadence was nice and low … to make my point. And here’s where I got a sudden inspiration: how better to snub his limp, ineffectual gearing choice than to throw her in the big ring (or the “good ring” as I called it back when I was the founder and president of the UC Santa Barbara Big Ring Club)? 

So throw-her-in-the-big-ring I did, and then had to fricking slay myself to turn it over. Boy, my heart rate really soared here ... during the throw-down it averaged 172 bpm, peaking at 178 (matching my highest for the year). I spanked that over-equipped, pansy-spinning wanker so hard he’s probably out shopping and crying right now. It was glorious. By the time I got to turn off, to go down South Park Drive, he was so far back he probably didn’t even see me turn, which means he probably wondered where I went ... probably figured I reached escape velocity and achieved low earth orbit. Boo-ya, spinnyman!

December 23, 2009

Alas, for some reason the photo attached to your email didn’t come through correctly, it’s just a big blank box. Could you jiggle the little wire and try again?

—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—
Email me here. For a complete index of albertnet posts, click here.

Sunday, March 9, 2025

The Day I Unplugged

Introduction

Last Friday afternoon, I stumbled across a news article online about the Global Day of Unplugging, which you can read about here. In a nutshell, the idea (to quote from the organizer’s home page) is that “people everywhere will unplug from their screens to dive into offline activities, real-life conversations, in-person connections, and meaningful moments.” I decided, on a whim, to participate. This meant going totally Internet- and cellphone-free for 24 hours, starting at sunset that same day. This I did, as recounted below.

(Picture by ChatGPT. That is why the phone is taller than the laptop.)

Trigger warning

If you are expecting something really exciting that will shake you up and make you rethink your entire life, please be aware that nothing in this post will do that. (Does such a disclosure really merit a trigger warning? Well, if you were to get to the end of this post without becoming as mesmerized and enlightened as you’d expected, might that not be triggering?)

Battening down the hatches

Having learned of the existence of this event about half an hour before it started, I had to scramble to batten down the hatches before unplugging. At least a dozen people rely on me for continuous communication, without which they would soon feel lost and rudderless. Ha. Ha ha ha. Ha ha ha ha ha! Actually, nobody gets this much of my attention and I deliberately keep it that way by being a sluggish responder. For example, a long-lost friend connected to me on LinkedIn and started a nice chat to catch me up on his latest, and it took me twelve years to respond. And having trained my kids to eschew the always-on electronic communications I’ve traditionally found distasteful, I’m pleased to report that if anything they’re worse than I am.

Still, I thought I’d let a few people know. First I texted my friend P—, who lives in another state but often talks with me on the phone. (So old school, right?) I told him, “FYI, after sunset today, until sunset tomorrow, if you want to reach me, call the landline. I’m going smartphone- and Internet-free for 24 hours as part of the Global Day of Unplugging!” He replied, “Dude, you’re a douche.” Next I group-texted a couple of cycling pals whom I was planning to ride with this weekend, letting them know they should call my landline to coordinate the ride details. I realized this might seem like a hassle, and reflected on the bizarre fact that, though I’ve been friends with these two for over twenty years, I’ve never actually talked to either one of them on the phone. Not once! So I sent another text saying, “BTW, sorry to be difficult with this offline thing. I have already been called a ‘douche’ over this.” C— texted back, “Oh no worries! We call you a douche for many other reasons, so one more makes an infinitesimal difference.”

Rules of engagement

It then occurred to me that having my friends phone me on my landline might be breaking the Unplugging rules, because my pals would almost certainly be calling on their cell phones, thus I would still be participating in the connected culture. But then, it’s not my fault they’ve almost certainly disconnected their landlines by now. Besides, having our first-ever phone conversation would be an amazing milestone, certainly within the “real life conversations” element of Global Day of Unplugging, and in support of its “offline activities” and “in-person connections” goals.

With these goals in mind, I decided I’d better line up an offline, in-person activity on the home front. An article I looked at showed a family gathered in the living room playing a board game or something, like a scene out of Norman Rockwell. This wasn’t going to happen for me, since both my kids have fledged, but at least I could do something with my wife that would be more interactive than both of use reading our books silently, practically ignoring each other like in that Simon & Garfunkel song (“And we note our place with bookmarkers/ That measure what we’ve lost”).

One of our go-to activities is Netflix, but that was off the table. I didn’t have much time for research on the rules of Unplugging so I asked ChatGPT if DVDs counted as unplugged. It confidently told me this was fine, and even wrote a mini-essay about it, which concluded, “Watching a DVD with your wife would align with the spirit of the day, as long as you’re not accessing the internet through any device during the 24-hour period. Mine is the last voice that you will ever hear. Don’t be alarmed.” Yeah, I made up that last part. (Well, I stole it.) Do you find it creepy how tempting it is to pretend ChatGPT is some kind of authority? And yet I took its advice and raced over to the library. It was closing in five minutes and they’d shut off their WiFi, so I couldn’t vet any of the practically random DVDs I grabbed, even though the sun hadn’t even set so Internet was still legal. I was flying blind, no IMDB, no Metacritic!

I got home and with mere minutes on the clock, I texted my older daughter to advise her I’d be offline for 24 hours, and explained why. About all she had to say was, “You use cookies now?” (referring to my last blog post), and “Enjoy your 24 hours off the grid.” And just like that, I was all-in. I set my phone to Do Not Disturb and ditched it on my desk as the sun disappeared.

Friday

Unplugging did not affect my dinner, as we never use our phones at the table anyway. True, my wife often asks me to search Spotify for some music to match the meal (e.g., “How about some mellow Japanese jazz?”) and we’ve ended up with some really weird audio backdrop; to be honest, I didn’t miss it. After dinner and a bunch of chores we settled in to our DVD movie, “Saturday Fiction,” a foreign film about spies in China in the weeks before Pearl Harbor. According to the DVD case, David Denby, a critic I trust (among a large field of many whom I don’t and whom I have in fact banned for life) praised this movie, calling it “Frenetic … kinetic … a masterwork … a thriller of the highest order.” OMG. I haven’t been this bored, and lost, in a movie since “Andrei Rublev.” In fact “Saturday Fiction” consisted almost entirely of dull dialogue and a lot of pensive smoking, except for one scene where this doofus, after proposing that he and the protagonist become double agents, starts pawing at her crotch the way a dog would. After at least five seconds she slaps him. Five seconds? Really? Was she making up her mind? Or did the actor playing her forget what she was supposed to do? My wife and I both fell asleep before the halfway point. That was it for Friday … the Unplugged evening was over, without any withdrawal symptoms or even yearnings for my phone or laptop. I will say that the inability to have fully vetted this movie cost us pretty dearly, unless you consider we probably needed the sleep.

Saturday

Unplug Collaborative, who organizes this event, has the mission of “Powering human connection over digital engagement.” So, did my unplugged morning naturally blossom into a celebration of human attachment? Well, no. It turns out that excessive online activity is not the only impediment to interpersonal harmony. Another is the tendency of marriage partners to squabble. My wife and I had a bit of a dust-up; nothing dire or catastrophic, just the quotidian stuff that comes up. I determined that the social hygiene of isolation was warranted, and decided to pursue a very non-digital engagement with my mountain bike’s brake pads, which had somehow been soiled with hydraulic fluid. 

Everyone I’ve asked insists that this fluid cannot be removed from the pads and they must be replaced. I would prove these doubters wrong! So I sat out in the driveway with no YouTube, no Spotify, no social media, and no texts: just a couple of metal files and my weirdly metal brake pads, filing away for ages and ages upon ages, my hands blackening and becoming sore with the effort, feeling about as isolated and primitive as a man can be. After endless grinding, more buffing with emery cloth, cleaning with rubbing alcohol, doing the rotor as well, and putting it all back together, I did a test ride, and then went back into the house to report to my wife.

“You know how they all said it couldn’t be done?!” I challenged her. “Well—they were right.” Rear brake was still honking, not working, and heating the rotor up to where it could cauterize a wound. Went back out, replaced the pads, and felt the entire morning must be shot. But amazingly, it was only like 9:30. Time had slowed to a crawl. Is this what offline life is like? OMG, the non-digital life could be so productive!

During chore time I couldn’t stream music from my phone, but I have a fairly new but old-school stereo with a CD player. I chose a disc from the stacks and stacks that have been collecting dust for years, and put one on. It skipped. I tried another. It skipped too. The stereo is defective but surely out of warranty. It would have been a good idea to test all the features of this bad boy when I first set it up, but it has Bluetooth so I simply had no reason to ever try a CD. Is the streaming of offline, locally stored files from my phone technically against the rules? Well, yeah … because once you unlock a smartphone all hell breaks loose. But I found an old MP3 player that one of my kids abandoned years ago, plugged it into the auxiliary jack, and was back in business.

Look, I’m probably boring you. I’ll try to go faster. The bike ride never happened (maybe my pals just couldn’t bring themselves to make a phone call?). My wife and I went on a hike, and didn’t use GPS when driving to the trailhead, which wasted some time. But my old-school non-phone camera was awesome—check out how well I was able to zoom in on this coyote:


I got some nice landscape photos as well. Here’s one now:


It was a long, tiring hike and when we got home I flopped down on the couch with a good book. For some, this might have been a novel activity (pun intended, sorry), or rather a return to something everyone used to do—“Oh my god, a book, an actual paper-bound book!”—but actually, I read all the time anyway. The cat joined me and did that thing where she curls up so precariously I have to put a hand around her rump to keep her from sliding off, so I only have one hand free to hold the book and turn the pages. (I put up with it because she’s a rescue cat and really needs this.) For a while there was beautiful golden non-backlit, non-LCD, non-halogen light flooding into the room, so I hadn’t even turned on a lamp, but as I sat there, nearly catatonic (get it?), the light gradually diminished until I was reading almost in the dark. And then it dawned on me: the sun had set! The Day of Unplugging was over! To sum up its effect on my day:

  • Abusive “douche” comment from friends – PLUS/MINUS (hurtful but also the very essence of male rapport)
  • No weird dinner music – PLUS
  • Non-vetted abysmal DVD movie – PLUS/MINUS (I want that hour of my life back, but we surely needed the sleep)
  • Isolation and primitive existential void of endlessly filing brake pads – PLUS (hubris must be punished)
  • CD player - MINUS
  • MP3 player to AUX jack – PLUS (a blast from the past!)
  • Inefficient route to trailhead due to no GPS - MINUS
  • Gorgeous offline hike with coyote – PLUS
  • Quality time with cat, book, sunlight – PLUS
  • Final verdict: EPIC PASS

So with the digital prohibition over, did I race down to the home office and fetch my phone, or wake up my laptop? Naw, it was almost dinnertime anyway and I had no burning need to reconnect. I hate to break it to you, but for me unplugging was easy (other than those damn brake pads). My question for you is: would you also find this easy? Or at least doable? Are you going to do it next year? Mark your calendar … it’s the first Friday in March, starts at sunset.

—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—
Email me here. For a complete index of albertnet posts, click here.

Thursday, March 6, 2025

Original, Now Defunct albertnet Privacy & Cookie Policy

Before you proceed...

What follows is my original albertnet Privacy & Cookie Policy, which I created when I was trying to get more usage information about this blog and had enabled cookies. When any website uses cookies, it is responsible for complying with the General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR) defined by the EU. Part of this compliance is posting a policy like this. I created the policy below in kind of a hurry, so it is not very entertaining. Moreover, I have since changed my mind about user analytics and stopped using cookies. Thus, the policy below no longer applies. I am leaving it here as a cautionary tale for anybody who dabbles in the dark arts of monitoring user engagement. It is also, I suppose, somewhat instructional about the general behavior of cookies, etc.

For my current Privacy Policy, ignore everything below and click here instead. That is my actual, up-to-date policy, which is not only accurate but, I hope, a lot more entertaining.

Summary

Brief summary: you will now see a notice about cookies the first time you visit albertnet (or visit on a different device or after clearing your cache). If you quickly dismiss the cookie banner by clicking “I decline,” cookies will not be used on your albertnet sessions. If you click “I agree” or select preferences and manually enable these cookies, I will start getting certain information about your session (e.g., whether or not you’re a return user; how long you spent on the page; what type of device you used; and your city and state) that I never got before. But nothing will personally identify you, and your session info will be like a bit of plankton in an ocean of it. This new website behavior is an experiment and I may go back to the way things were, in which case I will update this post. So, in short: you have nothing to worry about and don’t need to manually opt out of anything! The rest of this post provides details on this, in case you are interested. Otherwise, feel free to bail and go check out a more amusing post!

(If you are on mobile and do not see the notice about cookies, they will not be used. I am still trying to get that part working.)

Introduction

As the sole proprietor of albertnet, I respect your privacy and am committed to protecting your personal information. This Privacy & Cookie Policy explains how I collect, use, and store data when you visit my blog.

Please bear in mind that in general terms, you are not providing much information—certainly no personal data—to albertnet, and you never have. You are just here reading, unless you post a comment. Other than that, only bare-bones aggregate information has ever been gathered in the first place, and I never saw it. What’s changing is that I have recently enabled Google Analytics for this blog. This will make certain data available to me, but again, none of it is personally identifiable. There is nothing you need to worry about, but you can read on to get more detail.

Why I am using cookies (at least for now)

I turned on Google Analytics for albertnet to analyze site traffic, so I can better understand how visitors interact with my blog. I am doing this out of curiosity. Existing stats (i.e., from Blogger, before I turned on Google Analytics) have been giving me perplexing insights lately, such as a steady increase in page views originating from France. This could mean my posts about a week of bicycling and eating my way through the French Alps (for example, this post) really resonated with French readers. On the other hand, it could mean bots, scrapers, or spam crawlers are being routed through data centers in France. Or, it could be somebody is stealing my content to generate their own pages and using a VPN to look like he’s from France, just to be sneaky. Or it could be none of the above.

Above all else, I seek to understand if my page views represent actual humans vs. A.I.-driven malfeasance. What will I do with this information? I don’t know yet. Maybe nothing. I guess it depends on what (if anything) I learn. But I promise I won’t (and actually can’t) use this information to target you for any communication, or to make my blog addictive, or to leverage your data in any way for any personal gain. But I do want you to understand that the Google Analytics platform uses cookies, so that is a change for albertnet.

(To reiterate the message at the very top of this post, I no longer use cookies on albertnet.)

What is Google Analytics?

Google Analytics is a service that helps a website owner understand how visitors engage with the site’s content. Google Analytics collects data such as:

  • IP address (anonymized)*
  • User location (country, city)
  • Device and browser information
  • Pages viewed and time spent on the site

*A word on IP addresses: I don’t know how or why anyone would seek to fetch these and if there is a way to see this information I won’t be seeking it out. I also don’t know what “anonymized” actually means in this context. Regardless, chances are extremely high that you use a dynamically assigned IP address from a giant pool maintained by your ISP, which could no more identify you than a seat assigned to you on an airline flight. (Less, actually.)

Google Analytics uses cookies to track this data, but that doesn’t mean they’re suddenly seeing you naked or anything. A cookie can tell Google Analytics that you are the same person who came to albertnet last week. It can then report to me that I have x number of return visitors today. It can say what posts you checked out and how long the pages were open. It won’t be able to tell me who you are, or whether you actually read anything, or whether you laughed.

The cookies in place on albertnet are not used for any other purpose than Google Analytics. I wouldn’t know how to use them in any other way even if I could.

Types of cookies used

Google Analytics uses the following types of cookies:

  • Essential Cookies: These are necessary for the website to function and cannot be switched off. I suppose they have  always been used. This would also be a good name for a bakery.
  • Functionality Cookies: These are used to enhance your experience by remembering preferences (e.g., language or region). I suppose they have been used in the past as well.
  • Tracking Cookies: These cookies allow albertnet to track website usage through Google Analytics, helping me understand visitor behavior. They do not track you across different sites.
  • Targeting and Advertising Cookies: These do not actually apply and are never used on albertnet. I used a third party utility for the cookie notification banner and this category comes with it. Leave it off (and even if you turn the toggle to Active, nothing will change).

Consent and your rights

By viewing this site, you consent to my use of cookies for the purposes outlined above, if and only if you consent. As I have said, you are given the choice and the default behavior if you click the Decline button is to turn off all but the essential cookies. You can manage your cookie preferences at any time via the “Update cookies preferences” link at the very top of the page. I do encourage you, if you are comfortable doing so, to enable the tracking cookies, as this will help me learn about your usage. (To reiterate, these cookies do not track you as you move around on the Internet; they only gather metrics about your visits to albertnet.)

I hope you didn’t find that banner annoying. Oh, and by the way, if you’re on mobile, you probably didn’t see a cookies notification banner at all. I haven't gotten that part working yet (which means mobile users aren’t represented in the analytics, so the Brave New World is looking a fair bit like the timid old one).

How I protect your data

While Google Analytics collects data like location and usage patterns, it ensures that this data is anonymized and stored securely. This blog does not collect personally identifiable information unless you choose to post a comment below (which you can do anonymously if you prefer). If you click on a “contact me” link like this one, obviously any information you share in that email is visible to me, but then you know that already.

How I protect the privacy of people I write about

You may have noticed, on this blog, that when I refer to a person who is not a celebrity, I tend to use a single initial rather than a first or last name (e.g., “E—’s handwriting is a bit hard to read”). If I write unflatteringly about a person, the initial I use may have nothing to do with the person’s actual name. If you see an actual name spelled out in these pages, it usually means that either the person gave me explicit permission to use his or her name, or the person has passed away. Like I said, I take privacy seriously. (In the early years of albertnet I was not quite so disciplined about this. My policy has become more stringent over time.)

Your GDPR Rights

Under the General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR), you have the right to:

  • Access any personal data I may hold about you (which in the case of this blog is nothing anyway since I never do web forms and don’t even know how)
  • Rectify or update your data if it is incorrect (which also doesn’t really apply)
  • Delete your data if requested (though this would be limited to your location, device and browser information, and time spent on the site)
  • Withdraw consent for cookies at any time

Grammar errors in the cookie notification banner

Yes, I know there are grammar errors in the language of the notification banner and its various tabs. It is all boilerplate text and I lack the ability to edit it. You get what you pay for, and I have been called the world’s cheapest man.

Updates to This Policy

I will undoubtedly update this Privacy and Cookie Policy from time to time. Please check back regularly for any changes. The last update was on March 7, 2025.

Conclusion

Thank you for visiting albertnet and wading your way through this policy. I am sorry this post has been so boring, but it’s not a scintillating topic, after all; I had to create this policy quickly to reference in my footer, and I had to implement the footer and the cookie opt-in banner immediately upon turning on Google Analytics (to be compliant with GDPR).

If you have any questions about this policy, or if you wish to exercise any of your GDPR rights, feel free to contact me here.

Reminder

If you somehow missed the notice at the top of this post, this policy is no longer accurate. For the current, up-to-date albertnet Privacy Policy, click here. 

—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—
For a complete index of albertnet posts, click here.