Facebook has a long track record and sordid history of abusing their users' trust and privacy, including the most recent and egregious cases currently making headlines with Cambridge Analytica as well as election meddling in the US and Britain. As if that wasn't enough, it then came to light that they have also been tracking and storing users' phone call and text message data, including "who contacted whom, what time, and how long the conversation was." This is nothing new, as we can see from this 2012 "study" in which they deliberately manipulated news feeds to influence users' emotional state. And again with their settlement with the FCC back in 2011 (that they likely violated with their recent offenses) over deceiving consumers by telling them their information was private, but then repeatedly sharing it and making it public. And then there's The Ugly Memo, in which a FB exec justifies growth at any cost in the name of connecting people, even if that results literally in people dying: We talk about the good and the bad of our work often. I want to talk about the ugly. We connect people. That can be bad if they make it negative. Maybe it costs a life by exposing someone to bullies. Maybe someone dies in a terrorist attack coordinated on our tools. And still we connect people. The ugly truth is that we believe in connecting people so deeply that anything that allows us to connect more people more often is *de facto* good. And up until this most recent Cambridge Analytica scandal, Facebook was negotiating with various healthcare organizations to share patients' health data with FB so they could match it up to your social circle to allegedly provide better health care. Um yeah right. Each time this stuff happens, they issue an apology (or a justification for their behavior) and promise they will take steps to better inform users and protect their privacy, but it's clear that this is just lip service at this point. What is Cambridge Analytica? - An advertising company - not enough information - A networking company - A data company
not enough information

Christopher Warm had a sedentary job. On his keyboard he typed various letters and numbers, which would become computer programs. In his company he was known as Office Desk, because when he was working he always sat behind his well-used piece of conference table standing in a hard to notice corner in the software specialists' room. Christopher wasn't a wide person, and so his piece of conference table didn't have to be too big either, which also practically solved office space problems in the 0-1 Computer firm. It was Warm's secret that the majority of his time outside of the company, he also spent behind a desk. On his keyboard he typed various letters and numbers, which would become computer programs for the 0-1 Computer Associates company. While the Man Called Office Desk (MCOD, or simply Cod in an alternative version) was writing an intuitive program for the management of empty office desk space in software companies, a thing that nobody had ever expected to happen happened. Warm became fused with the chair. The staff at 0-1 Computer were disappointed, they had expected Cod to fuse with a desk. It would have been much more entertaining to watch, you could have laughed at him a little, and the nickname, given to him by the programmers' boss would have gotten a whole new meaning. And right now, there wasn't even much to talk about during cigarette breaks. Warm did not hide the fact he would have preferred to fuse with a mouse, or a mouse pad. Right now, all he could do was to pretend he totally ignored the fact he was physically stuck to a chair. And he was doing just fine until it was time to go to his second shift at 1-0 Computer Associates, where he had been working on a program for the management of empty space in staff lockers in telecommunications companies. Who has a sedentary job? - The programmers - Christopher Warm - The computer firm - not enough information
Christopher Warm

Q: He picked me up at my house, and after getting back on the main road he turned up the volume on the radio. "Why do you even listen to that stuff?" I asked. It was schlock-rock, simple and unadorned wailing backed by incessantly grating guitars. "I don't really know." "You don't actually like it, do you?" I knew he didn't; I knew what he preferred. His apartment walls were lined with recordings of classical, even archaic music, European folk instrumentals. Maybe rock, once in a while, but he had had something amplified and pitch-altered on every time we'd been together lately. "I think we listen to pop music to punish ourselves," he said. "An aural bed of nails to compensate for our sins." "Those sins being...?" "I don't know... sometimes, don't you ever get so sick of everything you just want to cram your ears full of garbage to spite it all?" This was not normal second-date dialogue, but Phillip and I had known each other for a long time. "It's like you'd rather inflict pain," he said, "like you want to inflict pain on yourself, just for pure spite against... the stuff around us." "You'd choke on garbage to get back at a culture who would do it for you anyway?" "Yeah, kind of. Does that make sense?" "In a very cliched, pop-psychology sort of way, yes." I turned down the volume, then shut the radio off entirely. "Don't you ever want to hurt like that?" he asked. "It's why you read some thriller instead of a classic, it's why you watch TV instead of reading a book, it's why you watch a sitcom instead of PBS, it's why you watch Family Guy instead of the Simpsons." (I might have snorted at this point.) "Because you have to do the bad thing." Whose apartment was lined with recordings of classical music? - Phillip - not enough information - The producers of the Simpsons - The other person in the car
A: Phillip

Q: I am currently waiting for peer reviews of two books I've worked on: one sole-authored, one co-authored. We don't talk much about the experience of waiting for reviews, and it's not something that appears to have been researched. Yet it's something everyone doing academic work has to go through and it may be bad for our mental health. I'm finding it particularly difficult at the moment because a lot rides on these reviews. The sole-authored book, which is on a contentious topic, has already had one set of reviews. Reviewer 1 was utterly damning, saying "I couldn't find anything to praise". Luckily, Reviewers 2 and 3 were more measured, offering both praise and constructive criticism, and their input helped me to revise and strengthen the typescript. However, in the process, my editor and I realised that we needed further reviews from people with a particular kind of specialist knowledge. My editor approached around ten potential reviewers, but only one agreed to do the job. So I'm gibbering what if that person agrees with Reviewer 1? The co-authored book is in a contentious format. My co-authors and I decided that I would be the person to liaise with publishers, as I have form in this process. The last time I liaised with academic publishers for a co-authored book was in the early 2000s, and I'd forgotten how heavily responsible it makes me feel. Fortunately, I've found a publisher that is interested and has sent the book out for reviews, to two professional academics and two students. This is great and terrifying but at least there are four reviewers. Even so, what if they all think it's rubbish? In many ways I love the peer review system. I welcome feedback on my writing, and I'm not at all averse to constructive criticism. I am by no means arrogant enough to think I can write a good book without input from others. Yet peer review, as a process, is fraught with uncertainty. Comments may not be constructive, or may not come at all. They may be positive, or negative, or in between, or a mixture. The time to write the book probably lasted - A minute - not enough information - A year - A month
A: A year