Data security

“Computer spies” (sic) have broken into the Joint Strike Fighter project and made off with several terabytes of data, reports the Wall Street Journal.

This would be the same F-35 Lightning II project of which one of the major partners is the British Government, themselves not unfamiliar with losing important data. Though, to be fair, we tend to just leave it lying around or bung it unencrypted into the Royal Mail, rather than be so unsporting as to force people to have to bother stealing it.

But hang on – a few years ago, there was a bit of a hoo-hah about this very project. It transpired the Americans weren’t quite convinced the UK understood concepts of data security (well… durr), and thus had mild reservations about handing over the complete source code for the F-35’s software. The British, not letting anything past them, realised this meant that between a British pilot flicking an insouciant British finger onto a British bomb-release button in a British plane on a British mission, and that specific (British, obviously) bomb, there could conceivably be some dastardly Yankee code along the lines of:

if (bombReleaseTriggerDepressed) {
  switch (isBombGodFearingAmerican) {
    case (hellYesBlowThemAllToHell) {
      releaseMunition(YeeHaw);
      break;
    }
    case (heckNoLimeyBastards) {
      errorMsg(insufficientPermission, escalateUACLevel);
      break;
    }
  }
};

Understandably ticked off, the British threatened to pull out of the project and… oh, I don’t know, build TSR.2 or something. In the end, some sort of fudge was reached whereby Blair could announce (Wikipedia again):

“Both governments agree that the UK will have the ability to successfully operate, upgrade, employ, and maintain the Joint Strike Fighter such that the UK retains operational sovereignty over the aircraft.”

…which is one of those odd phrasings that means less the more you think about it.

Ironic, then, that it turns out the easiest way of extracting the long-sought-after F-35 source code may have been to partner with the Chinese all along. Indeed, there are two possibilities here. If MI6 were being clever they could have just outsourced their industrial espionage, presumably at a huge saving to the British taxpayer.

Alternatively – and back to the Wall Street Journal —

“Foreign allies are helping develop the aircraft, which opens up other avenues of attack for spies online. At least one breach appears to have occurred in Turkey and another country that is a U.S. ally, according to people familiar with the matter.”

I think we all know which other country that’s likely to be.

Oh, arse. They got the code, then left it on a bus, didn’t they?

eSATA on Macs

Geek post warning: feel free to skip this, folks, it’s intended mostly for Google.

As of April 2009, eSATA for Macs is a bit flaky. Well, it probably doesn’t have to be, but cheap eSATA is flaky. Specifically, products based on the Silicon Image 3132 chipset cause random but repeatable kernel panics on Mac OS X systems. Here’s what I know so far:

Until recently, I’ve been editing off a bunch of 1Tb Firewire 800 hard drives. They’re Lacie RAID 0 units, and they work well enough. 65Mb/sec read or write is enough for the sort of editing I’m doing (ProRes 422). They’re a bit big and heavy to be truly portable, but it’s reasonably easy to bung one in a bag with my MacBook Pro and edit HD footage away from base.

However, they’ve a reputation for being unreliable, and indeed one of mine is starting to get a bit flaky. They’re also full, or at least ‘more full than I’d like.’ So a few months ago I started looking for alternatives.

I could have pushed old stuff into a Drobo, but they’re very slow indeed. Not just ‘too slow to edit off,’ but ‘too slow to move a typical 250Gb project onto.’ An hour’s archiving activity is fine, but a day is ‘deep backing store’ territory. I might explore the new DroboPro, but the proprietary nature of the filesystem concerns me. Hardware RAID 5 and swapping out entire disk sets may be more cost-effective.

FireWIre 800 is pricy, in part because it’s hard (in the UK) to source bare enclosures and fill them with one’s own disks, which is what I used to do with FireWire 400. It’s also not that quick, in the grand scheme.

No, the future is eSATA, the external version of the connector that hooks up our (internal) hard drives these days. Quick, cheap, reliable. Well, pick any two. Or maybe one. Read on:

A couple of months ago I bought a Sonnet eSATA expresscard for my MacBook Pro. They sell two, and I bought the cheaper of the options. I also bought a remarkably cheap trayless eSATA drive enclosure, an Edge10 DAS401. For the money it’s really not bad. I’m unimpressed by the shielding around the (internal) power supply, and it could be a little quieter, but it’s a solid enough box and easy enough to use. Thumbscrews everywhere are a nice touch. Cheap, but cheerful, and it has a port replicator so all four drives hang off a single eSATA cable.

The card and the enclosure talk to each other absolutely fine. Software RAID is out of the question: I managed to brick a pair of drives by trying it, having to reformat them via Windows before I could connect them to OS X again without triggering a kernel panic. But a single drive (Hitachi 1Tb units) pushes about 95Mb/sec read/write, which is ample for my purposes. The same drive mounted internally in a Mac Pro pushes 105Mb/sec, so the external overhead is acceptable.

It’s also trivial to pull a drive from the enclosure and shove it on a shelf, in a WiebeTech Drivebox. This appears to be my new equivalent of ‘putting the miniDV tapes in a shoebox.’

There are, however, some problems. Specifically, the eSATA card drivers are flaky. They mostly work, but mounting or unmounting a drive, or connecting or stopping the card, can cause kernel panics. Boff! Gone. Game over. Once it’s all running it works just fine, but hot-swapping is a no-no. In fact, the best approach is to shut everything down, configure the system, then power it all up. Which is fine, if mildly inconvenient.

However, since I bought the Expresscard Sonnet have posted a dire warning on their site:

“Temporarily not recommended for Mac systems with greater than 2Gb of memory.”

Yikes. My MacBook Pro has 4Gb.

The problem, I believe, is the chipset, which is based on the Silicon Image 3132 product. Most cheap eSATA systems seem to use this design, and the drivers, whether your card is from Sonnet or Lacie or anyone else, come directly from Silicon Image. And they stink. Luckily, for me, they seem to work OK. Ish.

At least, they do in the MacBook Pro. I recently bought an end-of-line 2008-model Mac Pro, and that’s a whole different animal.

The Edge10 box came with a bundled PCIe eSATA card, a tiny little thing with a dashing red board and a chip inscribed ‘Silicon Image 3132.’ Oh, crap. Sonnet’s equivalent card looks identical to the one I have, and also carries the dire warning about Mac systems with more than 2Gb RAM; my Mac Pro has 10Gb.

Sure enough, the Mac Pro throws a kernel panic at the merest hint of hooking up drives in the Edge10. It does, occasionally, work. Sometimes it’ll push data solidly for 20 minutes or more, but usually – and certainly ‘eventually’ – it panics. Hard lock. Reboot. Bastard.

Frustratingly, the way out of this appears to be to invest in a Sonnet Tempo E4P card, which is another £250 but uses some chipset that doesn’t involve the dreaded Sil3132.

Alternatively, Silicon Image might update their drivers. They haven’t touched them in almost two years, but you never know.

Until they’re fixed, however, the only sure approach is to stay away from Sil3132-based setups with Macs. They either don’t work at all, or aren’t reliable.

Announcing: meh, whatever

I’m out of practice.

This afternoon, I revised the script for the SciCast Awards event on Monday. It’s a relatively simple affair, very much a case of setting up a routine and banging through it twelve times, once for each award. The routine goes:

  1. Introduce the award category.
  2. Introduce the guest who’s to present that award.
  3. Guest says a few words, cues a clipsreel of the nominees.
  4. Clipsreel plays.
  5. Guest opens envelope, announces winner.
  6. Cue their film, while they make their way to the front.
  7. Film finishes; hand over trophy, handshake & photos, little interview, etc.
  8. Reset and do it all again with the next category.

Simple. Yet I still managed to mess up stage two.

If you’re introducing someone, you want to end on a clear cue to them, and an implicit call for applause from the audience. Consider, then, the difference between:

 “…to present the award, Jem Stansfield, engineer and television presenter.”

and

 “…to present the award, engineer and television presenter, Jem Stansfield.”

The latter is clearly better. Every time.

I know this. I worked this sort of thing out long ago. I know about inflection, and continuation thoughts, and all that. Why, then, did I use both forms in this script?

Because I’m rusty. I haven’t written ‘proper’ scripts for a while. I haven’t had the discipline of hearing my words performed by professional presenters, of hearing them again and again and again in the edit suite. I’m going soft.

I should blog more. Hard to believe from the meandering nonsense here, but it helps me keep an edge.

Really, though, I should write a script again.

Ouch.

The Onion News Network

The Onion News Network is doing some excellent work – very classy production values, brilliantly tight scripts. See, for example:

and the seminal:

Heaven knows how they’re paying for this stuff, but I love it.

Colours so faked you’ll swear you were there anyway?

Wait a second. What’s the message of this film, again? That Samsung TVs, right at the critical moment, make everything look unbelievably faked? Am I getting this right?

See, Sony understood the concept here; they really did bounce a huge number of balls down a street in San Francisco, and fire gallons of paint off a tower block in Glasgow. Sure, there was lots of processing on the final films, but the concept was actually carried out, and the films had verisimilitude because they looked real. They were, simply, awesome.

This, conversely, is a great idea made to look like crap. Which is not, I suspect, the take-home message Samsung wanted from this viral.

Creme Egg Heath-Robinson machine

This is:

  1. Lovely.
  2. Brilliantly-executed. It’s well-crafted to be filmed, which most of these things aren’t – they’re terrific ideas, but unfilmable. Hence, I suspect this is also:
  3. Inspired, or at least informed, by the Japanese show Pythagoras Switch, which has raised this sort of thing to an art form.
  4. Presumably a funded commercial/viral for Creme Eggs. I’m happy with that. However, it’s also:
  5. Utterly undermined by having a cut just before the last moment.

Gaaaaah! Nothing screams ‘Fake!’ like a cut to close-up just before the pay-off. When everything else is in (or at least looks like it’s in) one shot, it’s plain nuts.

Worth watching, but you have been warned.

Bloodhound

One of my big regrets was not ditching a crappy job back in the late 90s and gadding off to Nevada to help out with the ThrustSSC project. While I tend towards the cynical about some aspects of the successor project Bloodhound, they’re going about demonstrating their excitement in a wholly admirable manner.

Example: this Guardian article from the engineering director. Terrific, involving, emotional writing. Great stuff.

Didn’t buy a car, either

You’d think, given the horror stories about plummeting new car sales and all the rest, now would be a good time to walk into a car dealer and say ‘I’m looking to buy a car. What have you got?’

Sadly, no. That would be neglecting to consider the standard atmosphere and approach of British car dealers, who appear universally suspicious of anyone who so much as hints towards interest in their products, rather than, say, a BMW. There’s obviously something wrong with you – you’re mad, or skint, or both – so there’s no point trying to make a rational deal. Thus, they may as well ignore you and go back to their newspapers.

Take Volkswagon, for example: after a thirty-minute wait while the assistants all moved bits of paper around, the salesman who finally looked at me noted my interest in the Scirocco, listened to my story of liking the Mégane Coupé and Volvo C30 but also being impressed by the Fiesta… and hence tried to sell me a Polo.

Yes, yes, very nice, I said, and tried to steer the conversation back towards diesel Sciroccos. Twice. Each time, the salesman moved me down the Polo range. I tried to feed him lines about depreciation, and why initial price can be less important than lifetime cost; he pitched me the Polo 1.2 E, with wind-up windows, a radio/cassette player, and floor mats (extra-cost option). I walked out before he started pointing me to high-mileage Lupos.

At the Volvo showroom my interest in the C30 eventually prompted attention, but it turned out that they can’t sell me one. The C30, it transpires, really is a concept car – pretty to look at, supposedly production-ready, but they’re not actually making them. Or at least, this particular dealer barely ever sees them.

What they do get, rarely, are base-spec ‘R-Design’ models, which are decent value but neither quick nor frugal; the diesel equivalent is both. Probably. The dealer described the oil-burner as ‘hypothetical’: he’s heard of them, but isn’t sure if they’re real or mythical. As far as I can tell, the C30 exists only to lure people like me into Volvo dealers, to give us something pretty to look at before we remember we have kids and responsibilities and really need a sensible saloon.

Except that I don’t have kids or responsibilities, and quite fancy a little 2+2 shooting brake/grand tourer. But they’re just to look at; I can’t actually buy one. Heavens, no, what gives me that idea?

Ford, meanwhile, looked reassuringly scuffed and threadbare. The manager greeted me jovially at the door, then a sneezing sales assistant walked me through the bafflingly-complex Fiesta range with sufficient vagueness I began to suspect he’d spent less time with the brochure than I had. For example: the base-spec 1.25 ‘Style’ looks like remarkably good value, but I was concerned about whether it sported the low- or high-output version of the engine. I enquired. Checks were made. I still don’t know.

The entire mid-range is unavailable for months to come, leaving just the top-of-the-range diesel, which costs a whopping 50% more than the base model. Gosh. That’s quite a lot, but run the numbers for me – what does that mean per month?

Not sure. Come back tomorrow, maybe? Perhaps Friday?

Does it have a particle filter? “What’s one of those?”

Er… p’raps not.

Renault, meanwhile, were incredibly keen to get me in a 5-door Mégane. So keen that before I’d even seen one we were £2,500 below list price. That I’m completely disinterested in a bland family car was, it seemed, irrelevant. There proceeded a bizarre little dance, in which I enquired about engines and prices of the dashing little Mégane Coupé, but could only elicit answers in reference to the five-door sister car. It’s still not clear to me if the Coupé is actually available, or merely a balsa wood mockup plonked in the showroom and painted orange to look appealing. It certainly looks a bit like a C30.

Now, doubtless I’d receive much better service if I shaved and wore a suit, rather than looking a bit scruffy. However, in a Jaguar dealer I had a delightful conversation with a middle-aged and sharply-dressed businessman. He walked in excited about what might turn out to be his first Jag. Twenty minutes later we were still playing ‘spot the salesman’, and it transpired that this was the third dealer he’d walked into, and the third where he’d encounted intangible service. He left muttering something about Lexus.

As for me: by the end of the day, I’d walked into half-a-dozen showrooms with money (metaphorically) in my pocket, and walked out of each with no enthusiasm at all for the products. Not one salesman really listened to what I wanted, nor helped me shuffle through the ranges. None could give me even rough finance examples unless we properly specced a car. Nobody offered coffee, let alone a test drive. My casual but distinct interest was turned not into a sale, but into frustration and weariness.

Car dealers of Glasgow: if you want my business, try harder.