This peaceful full color Parisian street scene was shot on July 19, 1914 - only a few days before the outbreak of WWI.
Hey DIYers, I'm stuck. I've got a product that I'd like to build into a steel case like the one above, but I can't find them. Everyone seems to use a Hammond aluminum box, but that's not quite what I'm after.
If you can help, just drop me a note in the comments.
The egomaniac in me wants to think that the good folks at Shout Factory were reading Retro Thing when they decided to finally put the 1987 Max Headroom sci-fi drama out on DVD. It's long been on my DVD wishlist, and you can pre-order the whole series on Amazon right now.
I'm especially interested in the visual quality of the episodes. The series was shot on 35mm film, but the post-production work was done on video, as were many shows of the day. This would knock down the resolution of the image from full film quality to standard definition composite video. Another interesting point is that Max Headroom purposely intermixed film and video (mixing media like this has always been very uncommon in US television) for effect. Since the series is the story of a futuristic telejournalist, we see his camera's point-of-view as raw video. It was a very evocative technique, setting up the visual difference between staged cinematography and frenetic handheld camerawork.
I'm really excited that the whole series is coming to DVD this summer in a classy box set (with an animated lenticular cover!). I haven't found a listing of what will be on the discs, but there is plenty of material out there to include extras on the cultural phenomenon that is Max Headroom. Or might I suggest a little item on the famous Max Headroom video pirating incident?
Now we just have to figure out how to get the original 60's Batman TV series issued on a shiny silver disc...
link:
Support Retro Thing when you pre-order your Max Headroom DVD's on Amazon
Once the VHS vs. Beta wars of the 80's finally died down, Sony took another crack at a compact video format with Video8. Roughly the size of an audio cassette, Video8 delivered somewhat better visual quality than VHS. More importantly, it meant camcorders could get considerably smaller. Video cameras were where Video8 ruled, but the format never gained much success for TV recording or movie rentals, though Sony tried really hard with VCR's like the EV-C200.
Later Sony found a way to double the video quality of Video8 to just about the same as broadcast television (VHS is less than half of that). The thinking was that they could attract a more demanding videophile crowd with this new "Hi8" format. That never really happened either, but Hi8 found a home in the emerging field of desktop video production. So a new type of customer - the "prosumer" - emerged, using Hi8 as a way to shoot videos that looked as good as broadcast TV.
Hi8 gear could outperform professional equipment at a fraction of the pro price, but it did suffer a few issues. The tape was very susceptible to dropout, so it was a poor choice for editing - though some soldiered on with the kicky EVO9700 dual deck unit from Sony. So the preferred method was to shoot on Hi8, but then transfer to a more stable video format (or perhaps an early editing computer) for the actual editing, sadly losing a little quality when dubbing.
Hi8 decks like the EV-C200 were rare since so many people simply used their camcorders for playback, which has had unfortunate consequences. A lot of Hi8 gear just doesn't work anymore. Perhaps it's the smaller size, the tight tolerances, but when I've run into Hi8 equipment in recent years it has almost always croaked. Decks like my EV-C200 were never very popular to begin with, which may explain why this simple (except for the built in Faroudja time base corrector circuitry) 15 year old VCR still gets a couple hundred bucks on Ebay.
Sony still hasn't quite given up on Video8. In the shadow of the digital video revolution, they introduced "Digital8" in 1999. It uses the same DV codec as miniDV cameras, it's just that the hardware is targeted at budget minded consumers. Digital8 is also disappearing, but the good news is that the equipment is backwards compatible so you can still play back your old Video8 and Hi8 tapes to digitize them to your computer via firewire..
It's all a reminder of just how fragile our video taped memories can be. If you have material you want to save, now is the time to get it cleaned up and digitized onto your computer.
I'm not sure why Pac-Man appeals to me so much. I was never particularly good at the game, perhaps because I don't enjoy being chased by deranged monsters unless I can frag them at will. Nevertheless, I love the look of Pac and his cronies. There's something comfortingly 2-dimensional about their crayon-like hues and simple behavior. This game didn't cost millions to produce, nor is it filled with licensed music and product placements -- it's just lean, mean 8-bit excitement.
All this is a roundabout way of declaring my love for this 18" x 12" x 1.5" wooden cutting board, pieced together from walnut, hard maple and cherry wood. It's hand treated with mineral oil and beeswax to ensure years of food preparation fun. The only catch is its astronomical $165 price tag. Available on Etsy.
Pac-Man Cutting Board With Blinky Or Possibly Clyde [via Geeky Gadgets]
Sometimes I wish that I drank coffee. I've never liked the smell or the look of it, so I've never partaken – and as both a Lutheran and a Midwesterner, I realize how shocking this must seem to you. The reason I wish that I drank coffee isn't for the pep (you've probably realized by now that the last thing I need in my life is a stimulant), but for the accessorizing.
Coffee is such a huge part of our world, that there are countless ways out there to celebrate it. Whether it be yet another asinine novelty mug (according to countless coffee mugs, my mother doesn't appear to work anywhere), or just a cool design on an otherwise utilitarian device.
This coffee carafe has a lot of ideas going on all at once. There are the jubilant gold & brown graphics displaying various coffee bearing vessels. There's the overall Erlenmeyer flask (or “I Dream Of Jeanie” magic bottle) look that could only come from the 50's or 60's – and that goes for the crazy handle too. But I think that all of that pales compared to the lid/stopper. Echoing the overall gold & brown, it has a pointy chevron-shaped handle. Wow. No wonder it turns up at from time to time on classic TV shows.
I've said this before, but having a high sense of design is sometimes most important where it is least necessary. Imagine all of the thought and design that went into elevating this day-to-day vessel to a vestige of pop art – a time capsule! 1959 was a good year for Inland Glass, and the rest of the coffee pounding world I'll gather.
Nolan Bushnell has been called a lot of things, not all of them flattering. Some call him the father of video games thanks to his having founded Atari. Others call him a thief and opportunist, responsible less often for innovation and more for imitation. After leaving Atari in 1978, he went on to start a number of businesses with varying degrees of success. Chuck E. Cheese you've heard of, Axlon probably not.
His most recent enterprise was the wincingly named uWink Bistro (two remain open) - a restaurant with touchscreens at every table for ordering food and playing the sorts of games you can find anywhere on the web for free. The current Atari looked at all of this, invited Bushnell to join their board of directors, and the classic video game world is abuzz with the news. You can join an especially spirited discussion at AtariAge if you'd like to be part of the venom and the veneration.
Funny thing is that this isn't the first time this has happened. In the late 80's, Atari created a smaller & cheaper 2600 ("the fun is back for under 50 bucks!") to compete with Nintendo's NES. The release of the Atari Jr. was flanked by a few new releases from Atari themselves. These games were subcontracted to Bushnell's Axlon company (after he bluffed Atari that his staff had the chops to program for the notoriously difficult 2600). Luckily one of his programmers, Steve DeFrisco, was clever enough to work his magic to create the last few official games for the 2600.
1989's "Secret Quest" was a Zelda-like adventure - an impressive acheivement on the Atari, even including a passcode system so you can interrupt playing. DeFrisco didn't get the credit as it was Bushnell's face on the front of the box (though to be fair, Bushnell did act as the game's designer/producer). Whatever his status in the video game world, I never thought that he was much of a household name, so it's quizzical that Atari chose back then to borrow his dubious rock star status to sell games. Atari today has nothing at all to do with Atari back then, but they're still poised to make the same quizzical choice. Good luck to both.
links:
Bacteria writes, "This is a handheld portable Nintendo N64 handheld console system which took me 4 months to build.
The case is vacuum formed from my own design and make and the system is lightweight at just under 1kg. It uses two Canon BP-915 camcorder batteries yielding 4 amps (just under 3 hours playtime between charges), a Sony PSone screen, official N64 console motherboard, a combined rumble and memory card, a SuperPad 64 Plus controller. The system is well balanced, easy to hold, all buttons in the right places and it looks nice!
What is unique about this project however is that I have made 20 videos to provide a step-by-step guide for people who haven't made a portable console system to make one themselves. Normally, this information is kept by the maker, I've however made it all publicly available and free; providing tips, hints, methods, techniques and description of the work being done at each stage."
Check out the site for more info. It features the videos documenting the console construction, along with a wiring guide and even a forum for others interested in hacking their own portables.
Recently the Daleks trundled out again on the new series of Doctor Who. They were garbed in military drab green, with tiny Union Jacks under their eye sticks, and they seemed to be at the beck & call of Winston Churchill. The production team did a great job of depicting London during the Blitz, down to an atmospheric replica of the underground war room where Churchill made his plans.
One prop that caught my eye was an authentic looking poster of a Dalek done in the style of propaganda of the era. I wondered whether the BBC might make it available as a free download, and to my surprise they did! Just download the PDF and print it yourself. I printed it onto a sheet of glossy photo paper, and it looks great.
If you're running low on ink, there's a special running today at Walgreens pharmacies across the US. Since today is Earth Day you can help by refilling your old printer cartridges for $1. The special offer is today only, and unfortunately doesn't include refilling carts by Canon or Epson - coincidentally the very printers that I have here. So grab your free poster, your cheap ink, and spread the word that the Daleks are finally on our side... or are they?
links:
Free Dalek poster from BBC website
Learn more about the $1 ink refill offer
It may be cliche, but whenever I see a device like this, I feel certain dystopian willies. Maybe it's too much post-apocalyptic scifi, or perhaps one too many viewings of "Brazil", but heavy and unsympathetic learning aides leave me wondering when the robotic tutorial overlords are getting here.
This device hails from a pre-apocalyptic 1963. The Readamatic Pacer is designed to increase reading speed. Twirl the knob to the number of words per minute you want to read, and the mechanical arm reveals a line at a time. I'm a pretty fast reader, so I tried the old boy out. I was able to keep up with its top speed I'm proud to say, but the whirring of the Readamatic was distracting. Perhaps its due to age, but even in top form I've got to think that the screw drive and metal slat scraping across the page might be more than just a bit off-putting.
Interesting detail is that there are three scales on the speed dial. These are to accommodate different sizes of books (smaller book = fewer words per page). According to the manual, it's designed to speed up the rate of slow or lazy readers, or can also be used as a way to retrain readers to slow down if they are breezing too fast and have poor comprehension. Makes sense, though perhaps the fact I've never seen one of these before might be testimony to its not having been a great answer. Decades later, we still don't employ speed-reading robot tutors as far as I know. Or perhaps there's some robo-speedreader e-book app I don't know about?
related:
My newspaper doesn't want me
NASA unveils free e-book series
Extremely odd book titles
In 1982, the aging Atari 2600 was still king. The competing ColecoVision boasted the best graphics of the era, but their game library was nowhere near as large as Atari's. From the day that ColecoVision hit the market, they'd hyped their console's expandability. The imaginatively named "Expansion Module #1" gave Coleco owners access to the entire 2600 library.
Atari was furious. There was even a spot to plug in the original atari controllers if you didn't want to play with Coleco's squat mushroom-shaped ones.
Drat! Now Atari was losing console sales too? Atari had already cheesed off a bunch of their top
programmers who then went off to start the first third
party video game development companies. Atari sued their former programmers and lost, kicking
off a new world of development for their Atari 2600 system. They didn't
make a dime off of those third party games, but at least they had sales
of the console itself to keep them going.
They sued Coleco over Expansion Module #1, and again lost. The 2600 could be recreated with off the shelf technology (though the main video chip was reverse engineered from Atari's TIA chip). Atari's decision to use mostly standard components to save money also contributed to the downfall of their exclusivity. In reality, Expansion Module #1 was an entire Atari 2600 system inside - there was no software emulation here. The unit only needed the ColecoVision for power and video output, so the next step after the court victory was for Coleco to release it's own stand-alone atari clone system.
It's important to note that both Radio Shack and Sears sold store branded Atari systems, but those were still made by Atari themselves. Coleco's system was made entirely without Atari's participation (and without having to license any tech from Atari). They called their system "Gemini" (cheeky!), and it was quite a bit less expensive (and quite a bit more ugly!) than the original Atari 2600. After that came other clones, especially outside the USA.
When the video game industry recovered from the big crash of 1983, manufacturers were much more proprietary about their hardware and software. Third party development was still important, but sanctioned through the original console manufacturer. In fact, most of those companies required third parties to manufacture software through them. No wonder all Nintendo games look the same! They claimed it was for quality control, but really it was an important revenue source for console makers. So even today, the video game industry is still benefiting from one of the lessons they learned from Expansion Module #1.
related:
Coleco Gemini - first full-fledged Atari 2600 clone
Coleco Adam computer - even Cabbage Patch Kids couldn't save them
ColecoVision USB multi-cart
I really miss my VCR. It still lives under the TV in the living room, but it's only been used once this year. The reason is simple -- it can't record modern HD digital signals, making it absolutely useless. As the parent of a young child, I used to time-shift a lot.
I know I could buy a Tivo, but I'm reluctant to sign up for yet another service that demands a monthly fee. And Blu-ray recorders still haven't caught on, thanks to multi-thousand dollar price tags. That leaves me with few options (and no, I don't want the 'fun' of maintaining and debugging a media PC that has to work flawlessly to keep my family happy).
The reaction in my household was simple. Since we can't record stuff, we started skipping episodes. And, eventually, we found ourselves skipping entire shows. It got to the point where we realized just after Christmas that we weren't watching TV at all. So we suspended our satellite service.
Technology companies have finally succeeded in removing the record
button from the living room, something they've wanted since the dawn of home taping. They're happy to
offer à la carte viewing at exorbitant prices -- who in their right mind honestly believes that a single 40 minute episode of House should cost $3.49? I've grabbed a handful of episodes from iTunes, but it's too costly to do that on a regular basis.
So we do without. By making it harder to record shows, the major networks and cable companies have made their product so awkward and costly that people are looking elsewhere for entertainment.
Former viewers are venturing out to 3D movies, attending Maker Faires, exploring sites like this one, learning new hobbies and spending more time discovering quirky bands on YouTube.
Ironically, the media conglomerates are too greedy to realize what they've done. They blame declining viewership on copyright infringement and piracy, not their own missteps. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off for a bike ride...
complete set of Flavoradios from the collection of Phil MacArthur
In the 70's when cheap pocket-sized transistor radios were king, manufacturers were competing on style. For example, Panasonic had a bunch of colorful models, so Radio Shack wanted their own version for their Realistic house brand. They rolled out the Flavoradio line - pocket transistor AM radios in six colors. The colors were named after fruit flavors, (much like a line of Macintosh computers I seem to recall from the last century). There was Pistachio, Plum, Lemon, Orange and Blueberry. Mine is a 2nd generation strawberry... though "mauveberry" is probably more accurate.
Flipping through the virtual pages at radioshackcatalogs.com, I found the Flavoradio in catalogs from the 70's through to the early 80's. It was a popular thrifty gift, and a good experimental starting point for electronics fans. Here are the details of a young man's project to turn the Flavoradio into an inexpensive shortwave receiver back in the 70's. The catalog shows the Flavoradio's price creeping up from the $6.95 in the 1975 ad here, to $7.88 five years later. Oil crisis? Reaganomics?
The Flavoradio was available exclusively at Radio Shack from 1972 to 1986, an astonishing 15 years - the longest running production radio ever built. Radio Shack retooled the case twice more, offering models up until 2001. At that late date, the Flavoradio was the last AM-only radio available anywhere.
This long run puts it up there with such perennial classics as Minimus speakers and the Executive Decision Maker. By the mid 80's, the Walkman revolution was turned up to full volume, so Radio Shack listeners wanted better fidelity, FM, and of course those miraculous cassettes. By the time they finally let go of their beloved Flavoradios, Radio Shack was stocking their own versions of the Walkman too.
Radio Shack used to have a healthy selection of house brand products. Fans enthused that these were somehow made better than regular brands, or were easier to fix. Others had less flattering opinions. One unique aspect of the store used to be that many of their signature models remained available for far longer than products at other retail outlets. Perhaps Radio Shack didn't feel the same commercial pressure to continue renewing products?
I usually think of Radio Shack products mostly being of serious dark plastic with fakey woodgrain trim. Perhaps some brushed aluminum... so the multi-colored radios were a surprising addition to the line. I never got one back then, and I must admit that here's a question that has plagued me since then. Did anyone besides me else think that the Flavoradio was going to have the scent of the fruit it was named after?
I think that I just figured out our next Retro Thing exclusive product...
related:
Cheap earphone thing
AM radio hidden inside a book
Huge AM wrist radio
When home video taping hit the scene, there were a lot of reasons that it decimated super 8 home movie making. One of the top reasons touted by camcorder manufacturers was that you didn't have to wait to develop the video tape. You can be watching your footage the moment after its shot onto a sturdy & convenient cassette. The time necessary to get your film to and from the lab was always going to be an issue (though Polaroid gave it one honey of a try!), so the best that manufacturers like Kodak could do was make it easy as possible to get film developed.
These cardboard sleeves from back then contain prepaid mailers for sending in your film for developing. The price you pay includes the processing for double 8mm, super 8, and even super 8 sound - but bring your own stamps! Once your film was shot, if you didn't have a handy drug store or camera shop, you could buy these pre-paid mailers and get your movies to the lab quickly by mail. These would be great on vacation too. Once you finish shooting a roll, drop it into the mailer and your movies might be waiting for you when you get home (and probably will get there sooner than the postcards that you sent to your neighbors).
The envelopes are unusually shaped, with pleats in the sides to fit the bulky film. They're not light-tight, so better be sure what you're mailing them in is. On the back is a map of the US with all of the officially sanctioned labs listed that handled processing motion film. Mine would have gone to Chicago's south side to this building.
I was wondering what would happen if I sent one of these envelopes to Kodak's Rochester HQ today as a joke. As it turns out I could have used them for processing from Dwayne's Photo (the only remaining processor of Kodachrome film), but they expired - get this - in December of '09. These mailers must be 20+ years old, who would have thought they'd still be good? More importantly, why didn't I think to check a few months ago?
Of course today if you're shooting Super 8, shipping your film is the only alternative. When these envelopes were current, the pre-paid mailers were mostly a convenience. Or they were for folks who didn't have a nearby photo developing lab. Today mail order is what's keeping super 8 alive (except for those brave souls out there who process their own film!)
I found this whole big stack of mailers at the thrift some time ago, and I did get a little bummed out that someone may have invested a good deal of money in their future home movie making. Or perhaps along the way they got a camcorder, and fell in love with instant 2 hour color videos with sound. I know that I would have... and did.
Dwayne's Photo - still processing Kodachrome film for a few more months
If you collect enough junk for long enough, it all just starts to come together. Years ago I found the Sony PS-FL1 drawer turntable. It was one my first posts for Retro Thing. It's a fairly conventional spinner of platters, with the cool powered drawer making it extra special. The PS-FL1 is connected to the rest of my somewhat more modern stereo, but it's the only component without a remote. There were a few remote control turntables here and there over the years, but for the most part you had to get all interactive with your platters.
There is a solution. On the back of the PS-FL1 is a jack for adding remote control - sort of. You may remember that in the provincial days before agnostic universal remotes, some manufacturers forced you to buy their components exclusively in order to remotely control any of them. None of the components had their own remotes, but by connecting special umbilical lines between one manufacturer's components, you could control them all wirelessly. This meant that you had to chose your main amplifier carefully, as it would likely be the nerve center that allowed remote control of all the other components.
Sony found an even more galling route (as they often do). Not only do you have to buy all Sony brand gear, but you also have to buy the special RM-44 remote control component. Connect all of your Sony goodies to the RM-44 through difficult-to-source cables, and then you can use the included remote to run the whole party. Not only does this force you to invest heavily in Sony components, but you also have to buy what amounts to an expensive dongle to unlock features that should have been there in the first place.
I'd be more infuriated if I hadn't paid only $5 for the little box a few weeks ago (see what I mean about all this stuff eventually coming together?). The difficulty will be ad-libbing the cables to connect the RM-44 to the turntable. What will I get for all that trouble? What red carpet features will suddenly be at my command? I'll be able to start and stop the turntable, and lift the tonearm. A miracle! Though it doesn't sound like a lot, that actually is kind of cool. If I had the appropriate Sony tape deck, it would synchronize with the start and stop of the turntable for making car tapes of LP's... woo!
I do sort of want to do it, but am not looking forward to duplicating that special cable. I also probably don't need another large-ish remote on the coffee table that only really does three things. There may not even be room for the half-component-width remote receiver, but I'm still tempted to stage this reunion between the turntable and remote that haven't met in 25 years. Actually it would be pretty awesome (or should I say "rad"?) to find the other pieces and put together an example of a rather nice 80's integrated audio system. Then I'll hang a Nagel print over it all, and catch the latest Miami Vice. Ooh! This one has Phil Collins in it!
Related:
Too many buttons on your remote?
Sony universal remote inspired By Star Trek?
Radio Shack remote control extender
Classic Retro Thing |
