There is no real agreement on how many muscles it takes to frown, nor on how many it takes to smile. But it takes none to be stupidly slack-jawed.

I want to discourage my readers from doing business through AbeBooks.com, which operates as a listing service of books for sale from a multitude of merchants.

A friend recently ordered a book from one of these merchants through Abe. The merchant responded by declaring that the book had been sold to another buyer, but then relisting the copy with other services, at a higher price. In other words, he or she, upon receiving an order, decided not only not to honor the advertised price, but to lie about the situation.

My friend then contacted AbeBooks.com to complain, explaining exactly what the seller had done. Abe responded with irrelevant boiler-plate about items that were no longer available. (The seller, for his or her part, responded with the irrelevant claim that he or she did not make money by hoarding books.)

When my friend again contacted Abe, the response was to deny that the book had been relisted. They repeated this denial to me. As my friend had made it explicit that the relisting had been with an alternate service, and had offered evidence, Abe‘s response was at best with reckless disregard for the truth, if not simply a lie. In the wake of having it reïterated that the listing was with other service and that evidence can be provided, AbeBooks.com has retreated into silence.

As I told AbeBooks.com

If you do not ensure honorable practice, then you are at best redundant amongst listing services.

So far, for example, my experiences with Alibris have been fine, and there are other services as well. If one finds a book listed with AbeBooks.com, there’s a good chance that the very same seller lists the very same item through some other service as well. (I recommend using AddAll at the outset of a book search.)

Up-Date (2010:07/29): Yester-day, Abe broke their silence to declare that there was nothing that they could do about such a relisting. In fact, what they could have done is to de·list the seller. Evidently AbeBooks is amongst those very many firms who treat it as an acceptable form of lying to misrepresent a choice as a necessity.

Abe did offer my friend a coupon for a 10% discount on a future order. My friend couldn’t, with this coupon, secure a copy of the same book at the same net price as it had been listed — it’s perhaps worth noting that the seller’s price increase had been more than 99%. And Abe was simply tossing to my friend the same sort of promotional coupon that other buyers are given anyway.

Catching shill-bidders on eBay used to be one of my hobbies. I would regularly stumble-upon suspicious confluences, start examining auction and bidder histories, and from them often assemble proof that there had been shill-bidding, which proof I would then send to eBay and to the victims. I’m sure that I wasn’t the only person engaging in this sort of detection.

But eBay began choking-off the data available to us. With decreasing information, it became ever harder to make the case. It became impossible even to see some of the confluences that would have triggered suspicion in the first place.

For an honest auction firm, there may be an optimal amount of shill-bidding to allow, simply because of enforcement costs. (A perfectly secure trading environment would be prohibitively expensive.) But for a dishonest firm the question is of balancing the gain that otherwise comes from allowing ending prices (and hence fees) to be thus increased, against the alienation of users who consequently reduce their spending. Access to information which both empowers volunteers to catch shill-bidders and alerts users more generally to the occurrence of shill-bidding is, as such, not in the perceived interest of a dishonest firm.

BTW, the changes that reduced our abilities to spot shill-bidders, and which made it more typically impossible for us to prove a case of shill-bidding (as well as other changes that enabled eBay to be more easily used by thieves) were primarily effected while Margaret Cushing (Meg) Whitman, now the Republican Party nominee for governor of California, was eBay’s President and CEO.

Those of you who’ve followed this 'blog for a while might be wondering what happened to the paper that I started submitting to journals in mid-June of last year. Well, yeah; me too.

As previously reported here, it was rejected by three journals as unsuitable to a general audience of economists, after being rejected by one without any reason being given. As it was rejected for being too specialized by one journal, I would then submit it to a more specialized journal. I submitted it to a fifth journal in early September. That process had to be repeated as their representative wanted me to purge the acknowledgments before the paper were passed-on to an editor (I’m not sure why someone there didn’t delete them from the LAΤΕΧ file that they’d had me submit, nor why their submission template provides for acknowledgments, with no guidelines on when not to include them), but the paper was then officially recorded as submitted on 8 September. And I’ve been waiting since for a yea or for a nay.

They have an on-line site at which I can check on the status of my paper. After a while, the site reported that an editor had been assigned; then, in early January that reviewers had been assigned. Anthony suggested that perhaps they had had trouble finding reviewers who would be sufficiently comfortable with the sort of mathematics used. In late March the status report was changed to say that reviewers were assigned at that time, as if perhaps one or more of the original reviewers had left without returning an evaluation.

This journal doesn’t really provide any guideline about querying them concerning the status of a submission. A common guideline from economics journals (as some others) is to contact them if one hasn’t received any word after six months. I couldn’t really claim that I’d not got any word for six months, but what I’d got surely didn’t seem informative. Towards the end of June, after getting an opinion from Anthony, who said that I should feel free to query them, I did. The person whom I contacted said that, much as Anthony had suggested, there seemed to have been a problem finding reviewers, and that my query had been forwarded to the editor.

I’ve received nothing further. So, I don’t really know the status of my paper.

A stereotype ex libris book-plate that I got to-day: This image is by Andre Louis Armand Rassenfosse (1862 – 1934). I’ve had an eye out for one of this particular design for quite a while.

To-day, when I was starting my shower, I saw what looked like a silverfish swirling around in the water. I don’t want silverfish in my apartment, but didn’t see any need for the thing to die, and the water hadn’t been hot enough to kill it, so I held my hand over the drain, turned-off the water, and let what was in the tub drain slowly.

Sure enough, there was a water-logged silverfish. I grabbed a clean, empty bottle in which the silverfish could be held until I finished showering and dressing, and some bathroom tissue with which to pick-up the insect, as I could not pick it up with my bare fingers without crushing it.

I made the mistake of using dry tissue, which did not mold itself around the creature, and which wicked the remaining water off it, so that the thing was able to leap free…

…into the drain.

Well, I’d tried.

My father has a pair of Microsoft® Xbox 360™ systems. He spends a fair amount of time on one or both of them, by himself and with my brother.

(My mother reports that my father’s interest in the Xbox developed after I sent to him links to the Rooster Teeth Productions Red vs. Blue machinima videos.)

I have more than once been impressed by video games as programs, and wouldn’t mind doing such programming, but I’ve never been much for playing them, unless one counts Rogue and NetHack as such.

And I really loathe the Xbox controller. It strikes me as a product of path-dependency, rather than otherwise optimal design. The particular path was begun by a controller for the 1983 NES (an 8-bit gaming system with a clock-speed of less than 2 MHz and accordingly limited possibilities), with understandably little consideration as to the effect of the design on the future. Each subsequent controller design was affected by the desire not to impose too much change upon users, and perhaps in some cases by a need for compatibility with existing and anticipated gaming systems. Were controller designers starting with an understanding of the information that players would now want to be transmitted, but otherwise fresh, then the designs would be radically different.

But it discernibly saddens my father that I don’t join him on his systems when I visit. So I have purchased an Xbox 360™ wireless controller for Windows and a copy of Halo®: Combat Evolved for Windows, so that I can practice using controllers of that d_mn’d design, with a game of the sort that my father plays. (My computer does not have enough umphf for some of the newer video games.)

I’m also then being compelled to boot-load Microsoft® Windows in order to play the game. So I’m running an operating system that I hate to play a game that doesn’t appeal to me to familiarize myself with a controller that I hate. Maybe I’ll stop hating the controller. (I sure won’t stop hating the operating system!)

I mentioned this matter to the manager of the apartment complex in which I live. She noted that there are far worse things in this world than feeling obliged to play video games. That’s certainly true.

And it’s even true in the face of something that I didn’t mention to her, which is that something about the game — beyond the awkwardness of the controller and the usual objectionability of Windows — adversely affects my mood. Perhaps it’s that the fictitious world has been one of emptiness punctuated by violence.

In response to my entry reporting that I’d developed plantar fasciitis, Ronnie Ashlock suggested that I look at an entry in Rational Fitness Blog by Scott Helsley. I was persuaded thereby to increase the amount of stretching that I did, and to order a pair of Heel That Pain heel seats and a Strassburg Sock™.

I first tried the heel seats in my boots (which I normally wear every other day), replacing the more ordinary heel seats thereïn. Rather than seeming to help, the new seats made the left foot hurt as if its fasciitis were worsening, and the right foot hurt as if it too had fasciitis. I then tried the seats in my walking shoes (which I wear on the days that I don’t wear the boots), on top of the replacement insoles that I’d put in those shoes after the fasciitis developed. The seats seem to work well in the walking shoes.

The Strassburg Sock™ is to be worn when sleeping or sedentary. It stretches the fascia by flexing the toes upwards. My sister-in-law offered me the use of splint that instead flexes the heel, but the Sock seemed like a better idea. (When my sister-in-law had suffered from plantar fasciitis, she’d been unable to use a Sock because of recent injury to her toes.) Anyway, the Sock certainly keeps my fascia stretched while I’m wearing it. I cannot sleep wearing it for more than a few hours, but my sister-in-law reported the same problem with her splint. The Strassburg Sock™ has to be hand-washed and air-dried, so I’d need to have two (or live somewhere that afforded faster drying) to wear one every night.

My father keeps a cache of two-gallon (7.57 l) zipper storage bags in the glove compartment of his car. Some time ago, he and my mother took home some food in that car, and the odor lingered for many days. Now, before anything odoriferous goes into the car, it goes into one of those bags.

I thought having the cache an idea worth emulating and passing-along.

This stereotype ex libris book-plate would probably not be of much interest to me except that it was designed by Karel Šimůnek (1869 – 1942), the very same artist who did this lithographic book-plate a copy of which I acquired on 16 July.

I prefer the lithograph, in part because what the woman in the stereotype appears to be doing cannot be good for the book. And, while raised bands on the spine of a book might have peculiar užitečnost to a nemrava, they were an artefact of better-quality book-binding (though sometimes false bands are used to counterfeit such book-binding), and hence of what may be expected to be a more valuable volume.