Bob Schwartz

Category: Television

Honeywell Kitchen Computer and the Delights of Old Tech

Kitchen Computer - Menu Selection

Some people love old cars. Others of us delight in old digital tech.

This is a page from the Neiman-Marcus Christmas 1969 catalog. The impeccably dressed N-M housewife is standing next to what appears to be an unusual table, but is actually the Honeywell Kitchen computer, which can be purchased for $10,000. (The apron will cost you another $28.) “If she can only cook as well as Honeywell can compute.” Indeed.

Kitchen Computer

Here is something completely different from the era, prophetic rather than silly. It is Isaac Asimov, a science fiction great, advertising Radio Shack’s TRS-80.

Asimov - TRS-80

Note that in the spirit of what goes around comes around, this is a pocket computer almost exactly the size of a smartphone—or is a smartphone a pocket computer exactly the size of a TRS-80? Either way, Neiman-Marcus and Honeywell were clueless, but Asimov and Radio Shack were not.

That would be a pretty good close for this post. Except that the following ad is irresistible, telling us something else about the early days of computing.

TSP Plotter

Just as cars were, and to some extent still are, sold by using sex, sometimes so were computers. This is an ad for a plotter, possibly the least sexy of all peripherals. The copy is mostly bone-dry and technical. But then there’s the trio of the model with her dress open to her navel, the headline “New, Fast, and Efficient!”, and the lead “The TSP-212 Plotting System is a real swinger.” $3,300 COMPLETE. Well, almost complete, as the model is presumably not included. But you know, that cool plotter just might attract one.

© 2026 Bob Schwartz

Money, Power & Wall Street: The Don’t-Miss Can’t-Watch Documentary

When I look back at my past posts, which began in 2012, some are too time-bound and topical to be of much interest to anybody today. Others remain relevant.

The context of this older post, from May 12, 2012: The U.S. economy bottomed out in 2008. When PBS (which is still hanging on, despite ongoing attempts to kill it) produced this Frontline documentary, it was trying to explain what happened and warn us, all those years ago, that it wasn’t getting fixed, and might only get worse.

In describing the documentary that was “don’t miss, can’t watch” I wrote:

“In a world where financial forces become too big to understand or control, it is still our job as citizens and public servants to understand and control them. Because when it finally hits, ideologies and political badges are not really going to matter.”

How’s that going?


It is hard to recommend the four-part PBS Frontline documentary Money, Power & Wall Street and hard not to. Difficult as it is to watch the financial crisis unfolding, the film is superior even by Frontline’s high standard of excellence. As a history and prospectus, it is an insightful, even-handed and essential work of reporting. As a source of optimism, it is a complete failure, because the conclusion is that nothing has substantially changed, and that maybe nothing will.

It is as good as any disaster movie in pulling us in and moving us inexorably along. We see the scenes in detail, meet the cast of characters—lead and supporting actors—and have a growing sense of foreboding: this can’t end well.

It is different than most disaster movies in two ways. Most have some heroes, and with a few exceptions, there are no heroes here. And most disaster movies end with some movement toward rebuilding and reform, and with a sense of lessons learned: we will keep better watch for asteroids, we will build a system of asteroid warning and protection, we will come out this with a fundamentally better society. There is none of that here.

Yet Money Power & Wall Street has to be seen by every American. Those with political agendas will no doubt point to particular decisions or non-decisions, or particular actions or inactions, to prove a partisan point. But when they do, they will have missed the bigger point. In a world where financial forces become too big to understand or control, it is still our job as citizens and public servants to understand and control them. Because when it finally hits, ideologies and political badges are not really going to matter.

Watch the Hannah Gadsby special Nanette on Netflix. Just don’t read anything about it first.

“There is nothing stronger than a broken woman who has rebuilt herself.”

Watch the Hannah Gadsby comedy special Nanette on Netflix now. It will change how you see things—and how you see yourself.

It is conveniently classified as “standup comedy”, but that is totally inadequate. “Theater” or “art” might be closer, but “experience” is even better.

For maximum impact, don’t read anything about the show before you watch it. You can read the rave reviews after, but like the inadequate label of “standup comedy”, the praise of the critics falls short.

You will laugh, cry, feel and think. And most likely never forget what you’ve seen.

TV: The Americans Series Finale

For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.
Oscar Wilde

There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create…
T. S. Eliot

We always deceive ourselves twice about the people we love — first to their advantage, then to their disadvantage.
Albert Camus

Man is the only creature who refuses to be what he is.
Albert Camus

In the end, everyone significant in the extraordinary TV series The Americans is dead or exiled, separated from those they love, from their homes and from themselves.

But that presupposes that they really do love those others, that they really do have homes and that they really do know who they are. Do they? Can they?

In the series finale, a father sends a final message to a son he will never see again: be yourself.

It was no secret from the start of The Americans that it was about big questions disguised as a compelling story. Whether it is in a novel or a movie or a TV series, those creative ambitions are often squandered by the end. Life inevitably ends in death, but the planned death of a TV series is just as tricky. Those who have stuck around for the narrative ride want something—not necessarily the cliché of closure, but something like meaning.

The Americans, like other superior contemporary TV drama series, is built to persist in the consciousness of its viewers the way a great novel might. We are not Soviet spies pretending to be a suburban family in Reagan-era America. We are not FBI counterintelligence agents. But nothing—no extraordinary circumstances—insulates them or us from the shared human uncertainties that drive the choices we make and the consequences of those choices. Choices that can leave us, despite our best intentions and best interests, in exile. Which is why Oscar Wilde, T. S. Eliot and Albert Camus are able to serve so well as reviewers of The Americans.

Trump Effect: Ids Gone Wild

 

Let’s let Freud describe the id, one of the three elements of his structural model of the psyche:

It is the dark, inaccessible part of our personality, what little we know of it we have learned from our study of the dreamwork and of course the construction of neurotic symptoms, and most of that is of a negative character and can be described only as a contrast to the ego. We approach the id with analogies: we call it a chaos, a cauldron full of seething excitations. …It is filled with energy reaching it from the instincts, but it has no organization, produces no collective will, but only a striving to bring about the satisfaction of the instinctual needs subject to the observance of the pleasure principle.
Sigmund Freud, New Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis

Along with the id, this “cauldron full of seething excitations”, the super-ego criticizes and moralizes, and the ego organizes these two into a healthy functioning identity. We are born, according to this model, all id.

We don’t say everything we think, we don’t do everything we think of doing. At least relatively  healthy, balanced people don’t, if they wish to occasionally get along with other people they might care about, or if they want to occasionally contribute to a working society.

Some people don’t seem to follow this. Children, especially young children, seem to require at least a little bit of outside guidance to help them get this. Some adults seem also to be frequently or solely driven by their gut, their instincts, their “seething excitations”.

That would describe our current president. And all those others who have been barely holding their own demons inside who now have high-level permission to let it all out. All of it.

Note: The latest racist and anti-Semitic tweet from Roseanne Barr, which just resulted in the cancellation of her hit TV show, was the impetus for this post. It was only the latest in a long series of outrageous tweets from Barr, a big fan of Trump. And only one of many expressions of uncontrolled indecency we are daily experiencing, but should never get used to.

Crazy Like a Fox and Friends: After the Laughter It Is Not At All Funny

Discomfort and despair has led to dark laughter as we listen to Trump’s half-hour unraveling/meltdown in his call-in monologue on Fox and Friends yesterday. Of course it is not actually funny.

Except for willfully oblivious Republicans, Trump’s instability is obvious to everyone. There is wide agreement not only that the thirty minutes of nearly uninterrupted chatter was often nonsensical and non-sequitur, but that if the Fox and Friends hosts—who were clearly aghast—had not intervened (“you have a million things to do, Mr. President”), Trump might have gone on blathering for hours.

Why Republicans ignore, excuse and put up with just about anything Trump dishes out, including rants that beg for a psychological evaluation, is best told by an old and wise joke:

Guy walks into a psychiatrist’s office. “Doc,” he says, “my brother thinks he’s a chicken.” Doctor says, “Bring him in and I’m sure I can help him.” Guy says, “I would Doc, but we need the eggs.”

Fake News and Enlightenment

An apple is also a banana.

Maybe all things Trump are good for us.

As with all indignities and suffering, we may want our difficulties to have meaning, meaning that is constructive and helpful. That can be hard and even impossible. Considering some current events as a blessing smacks of shaky rationalization.

In the Trump context, we know what fake news means. It means that reports from reliable sources are not to be believed, no matter how well investigated and substantiated. This can be maddening to intelligent and discerning people. It led to the current CNN campaign, showing that you can call an apple anything you want, including a banana, but it is still an apple. The apple is not fake news.

The Buddhist tradition doesn’t say it is not an apple. Of course it is. But beyond that, what we know is the thought of an apple, as is anything and everything the thought of anything and everything.

To put it another way, the apple is real news. And fake news. A conversation about how the apple is a banana sounds like a conversation you might find in a collection of Zen koans.

All is real news and fake news. Having the concept of fake news in our face can be a reminder of that. Even Trump is real news and fake news. Of course he is president and all that comes with it, some of it actually or potentially dire. But he and all that comes with it, including the dire, are thoughts. That doesn’t make the situation less real, but it may help moves us towards an enlightened perspective on things. Including all things Trump.

The Buddha on 66

The Buddha on 66

The Buddha said to Todd and Buzz
The route is wide and useful
Now a bit neglected
All things die
Even highways
Lend me your Vette
Then walk down the road
To the Blue Swallow Motel
Sleep if you must
But be sure
To wake up

Note: The route is Route 66 in Tucumcari, New Mexico. Once the great American highway, it has been somewhat passed over by the Interstate, but not surpassed. Some motels and other businesses catering to travelers are gone. The Blue Swallow Motel remains, and is not mere nostalgia. It is a place that allows the past to be present, not because the past is better but because it is different. Todd and Buzz are also past, heroes of a 1960s TV show Route 66, in which they drove around the country in their Corvette, having dramatic adventures. The Buddha is the Buddha, never in Tucumcari, never drove a Corvette, though the route is the way.

Twilight Zone America: Characters in Search of an Exit

The strange and uninformed version of history that Sean Spicer recounted today is just one more episode in what increasingly seems like Twilight Zone America. The Washington Post:

Spicer brought up Hitler unprompted during Tuesday’s White House briefing while emphasizing how seriously the United States takes Assad’s use of chemical weapons.

“We didn’t use chemical weapons in World War II. You know, you had a, you know, someone as despicable as Hitler who didn’t even sink to using chemical weapons,” Spicer said. “So you have to if you’re Russia, ask yourself: Is this a country that you, and a regime, that you want to align yourself with? You have previously signed onto international agreements, rightfully acknowledging that the use of chemical weapons should be out of bounds by every country.”

Later in the briefing, a reporter read Spicer’s comments back to him and gave him the opportunity to clarify. Spicer’s answer only added more confusion.

“I think when you come to sarin gas, there was no — he was not using the gas on his own people the same way that Assad is doing,” Spicer said, mispronouncing Assad’s name. “I mean, there was clearly, I understand your point, thank you. Thank you, I appreciate that. There was not in the, he brought them into the Holocaust center, I understand that. What I am saying in the way that Assad used them, where he went into towns, dropped them down to innocent, into the middle of towns, it was brought — so the use of it. And I appreciate the clarification there. That was not the intent.”

Twilight Zone America. Consider the episode Five Characters in Search of an Exit (see image above), in which an Army major finds himself in a room with an odd assortment of four other people. Rod Serling explains at the opening:

“Clown, hobo, ballet dancer, bagpiper, and an Army Major—a collection of question marks. Five improbable entities stuck together into a pit of darkness. No logic, no reason, no explanation; just a prolonged nightmare in which fear, loneliness, and the unexplainable walk hand in hand through the shadows. In a moment, we’ll start collecting clues as to the whys, the whats, and the wheres. We will not end the nightmare, we’ll only explain it—because this is the Twilight Zone.”

And closes with this:

“Just a barrel, a dark depository where are kept the counterfeit, make-believe pieces of plaster and cloth, wrought in a distorted image of human life. But this added, hopeful note: perhaps they are unloved only for the moment. In the arms of children, there can be nothing but love. A clown, a tramp, a bagpipe player, a ballet dancer, and a Major. Tonight’s cast of players on the odd stage—known as—the Twilight Zone.”

Clown, hobo, ballet dancer, bagpiper, Army major. And Sean Spicer. Yep, that’s Twilight Zone America.

I x P = D! The Will Robinson Governmental Danger Formula

danger-will-robinson

Danger, Will Robinson!
Robot B9, Lost in Space

Here is a simple formula to determine the level of danger posed by the actions of a government leader.

The theory is that the danger (D) posed is directly proportional to the idiocy of the leader (I) and the power of the leader (P):

I x P = D!

Thus, as the idiocy or the power increases, so does the danger.

You may find this formula handy.

Note: The exclamation point (!) does not denote an element of the formula. Rather, it indicates that the mere word “danger” does not convey how intensely dangerous the state of affairs might get, under the least optimal circumstances.