The Future is Getting Closer.

Like Photoshop, but running from a browser?

The nice people over at Aviary are developing a suit of browser run replacements for the disgusting monopolies that the likes of Adobe, Microsoft and Apple have over the creative applications market.

Aviary is a suit of web based applications that will allow creative professionals, and those who just like to play, access to powerful image, music and video manipulating tools. In English? It's like Photoshop but it ain't by Adobe init. It's like the Google Word Processor, for images. I'm very excited by all this.

Why am I excited by this?

For me this is NOT Web 3.0 (fuck buzzwords), but it is a refreshing conceptual step away from that awful mental model of the web as taught to us by the powers that be back in the late 90's.

Let's reiterate:

The internet is NOT something that we "Go Onto".
The Net is a set of interlinking routes of data - connections (like in your brain)
The Net is everywhere, all around us, every minute of every day.
The Net is wireless.

Therefore:

We View the Net through the rendering tools we choose (be this a desktop computer - rendering a big HTML page, or through a mobile phone (just showing me my text email).

The Net is MORE powerful than my desktop machine; therefore it makes sense that the net hosts my number crunching image manipulation programs. Physical Geography is no longer an obstacle.

The Net is smarter than I am, so why don't I work openly to it, collaboratively - as there's always other like minded people plugged in else where in the grid.

We all Hate McDonalds

A nice Ad:




"I still hate them though." - Ade Rowbotham

Today I am sick. Sick in the body, sick in the mind... and now sick in the soul. My body I can heal with rest, sleep and hot whisky toddies. My mind is difficult to heal, it must be nurtured and cared for as a young newly germinated seedling if I am not to burn up and become more ashes left at the bottom of Advertising's relentless bonfire. My soul suffers a long sickness of surrounding. London. Such a rat-race as this exists in few places on Earth. The dizzy heights of modern society is to be found here, amongst the Fitness First rucksacks mounted on suited backs up close and uninvited; invading your personal space like rapists on the tube. A Noise so loud, a shout so meaningless. Here in this jungle of overworked lab-rats there is no silence to find your piece of mind. No space between the words to find subtlety or subtext. Here McDonalds owns everything and all signs point to a fast-food life style where the only winners are those who leave their morals behind and join the un-righteous march of progress.

McDonalds? McShit I say.. Fuck your French fries. I piss on your salad and excreta in your burger you tower of reconstituted waste dressed as lifestyle food. You may be able to afford nice advertising and crafty product photography however nothing you do can conceal in my burning, dull cow eyes the trickery, the burglary, the lies you spread; the lives you corrupt, the taste buds you fool the crimes against mastication committed through ignorance in your name. You want a piece of me? Then it is done - Kitchen knives at Dawn and we'll see who makes the better salad....