RVJ Callanan

Wouldn't you know it? Just when I was putting the finishing touches to my updated Photofeed Gadget for Google Sites, the rug was pulled from under my feet. In the best traditions of Murphy's Law, my valiant efforts to tame this unruly child in an unruly world coincided with the launch of New Sites as a long-term replacement for what is now known as Classic Sites . Since the new hosting service is incompatible with the old, no upgrade path is offered and both versions will operate side-by-side for the foreseeable future. In practice this means that users are now caught in a No-Man's Land where Classic Sites support is waning while New Sites is a long way from the finished article. But the important news amidst all the hype is that public gadgets are on the way out having created many more problems than they ever solved. For what it's worth, my open-sourced Photofeed Gadget for Classic Sites is a novel take on the Web Widget paradigm which extends far beyond Goog...

Have you ever driven a car that is an absolute joy in so many respects but has these incredible annoyances which are all the more annoying because they are so annoyingly easy to fix? Have you ever driven a car that is even more annoying because the annoying manufacturer spends a lot of time listening to annoying customers but does nothing to address their annoyances? Well, that's how I feel about G Suite (formerly Google Apps) and I take no pleasure in saying that I am not alone. Take a nostalgic trip through the relevant  user forums  and you will see that many of us have been yammering on about G Suite's eminently fixable flaws for what seems like an eternity. These are genuine deal-breakers for the type of business user that Google should be cultivating. But, for stickier types like myself, they are sorely testing our patience. Way back in 2006, Google was still finding its feet in the nascent Cloud productivity space following a number of related acquisitions. T...

"You can't handle the fruit" is a popular corruption of Jack Nicholson's climactic outburst in the movie A Few Good Men . Unless you're into exotic cocktails, this comedic twist might invite a more sober interpretation. Because there are still a few good men (and women) out there who will tell you that truth is fruit in the making and our endless capacity for self-delusion is our undoing. Strangely enough, these cold realists are no strangers to fuzzy feelings, fertile imaginations and divine inspirations. They will remind you, however, that when such imponderables bear fruit, hard truths are being confronted somewhere down the line. Of course, when things go pear-shaped for want of a timely reality check, we can all be wise after the event — but not so wise as to avert repeat performances when the lessons are long forgotten. Life goes on and our critical faculties are dulled by the verifiable fact that these bouts of insanity usually fizzle out without obliter...

Like many long-serving hardware and software developers, I shudder to think about the countless hours I have spent on side projects that were "overtaken by events" and are now lost for all eternity. A recent trawl through creaky backups on Floppy, Zip, Jazz, DAT, DDS, CD-R and DVD-R uncovered tantalising glimpses of incorrigible optimism but nothing of lasting value. Even if I were to set aside a weekend to revive my data forensics skills, I would then have to deal with obscure file formats requiring proprietary tools that have gone the same way as many of the developments they inspired. The point is that most of my peers will have succumbed to the same forces during this frenetic period of technological change and now the fruits of our goofing-off time are gone forever. More's the pity because there is massive educational, entertainment and historical value to be found in the dregs of our fleeting existence compared to our more trumpeted achievements. If you don'...

In the early spring of 1953, Cornelius Dunne — or "Neely" as he was known to his friends — had just reached his twentieth birthday. Like many other young men of twenty, he was weighing up his options. Would he stick it out at home or take the boat to England? It was a difficult decision. There was no farm to hold him back but he was the only son of a widowed mother who had no one else in the world to look after her. Not that Neely was much use in that department; his upbringing was a bit on the pampered side, but only to the extent that pampering was possible in those lean times. Having procrastinated for a number of weeks, his idleness of body and soul did not go unnoticed by the local parish priest. Neely finally bit the bullet when an enthusiastic missionary was dispatched to his tighín to recruit him for the priesthood. He bade farewell on a wet Saturday morning armed with a freshly baked brown cake, flask of tae and all the savings his poor mother could muster to get h...

Today, the Rathluirc Irregular gave me the low down on a geological phenomenon known as the Iapetus Suture . Not to be confused with a fault line, it marks where two continents collided a few million years ago (give or take). The local variant stretches from the South West of Ireland up through Northern Ireland and Scotland. Apparently, it is often associated with mining activity. He also went to great pains to explain that this is the reason why Cork people are so different from the rest of their countrymen. Although they reside on the same superficial land mass, they are effectively on a different continent. And there was me thinking it was down to "superior" DNA!

Below is the original version of my huffy-puffy letter published in today's Irish Examiner. It is dedicated to a wise old bachelor of solid farming stock who has fond memories of being kept warm on cold winter nights by a worn-out blue garment bequeathed to him by his father. Ryle Dwyer’s attempt to balance the books on political betrayal is itself a betrayal of objective journalism. His selective nuggets lack context and give legs to lazy thinking that dismisses all politicians on the basis that one is as bad as the other. This lies at the heart of the apathy that informs our political debate and is one of the reasons why it is difficult for enlightened politicians to engage with the electorate in a meaningful way. The sleveenism that has infected Irish politics since the foundation of the state finds its roots in a single act of treachery which Mr. Dwyer alludes to without quite naming it as such. In skirting around Eamon de Valera’s great betrayal of our nation in 1921, ...