When I was a kid, I remember laughing at the warning which would scroll across the bottom of Channel 7’s AFL footy replay, reminding you that you weren’t allowed to record it using your humble VCR.

It’s only in the last few years that Australian law has actually permitted time and format-shifting, even though we’ve been recording live television and ripping CDs for years. Content providers have been dragged kicking and screaming into the new technological age which empowers consumers as well as content creators.

Content providers have a long and inglorious history of attacking the various forms of content shifting - from MPAA head Jack Valenti comparing the VCR to the Boston Strangler, to Sony’s rootkit scandal and Australia’s underhanded Freeview campaign designed to trick people into buying PVRs with the ad-skipping disabled. If it was up to the copyright police, couches would come with manacles that would automatically chain us to the chair during the ad-breaks so we couldn’t take a piss.

Now the AFL, Australia’s most influential (and arrogant) sporting code, has decided to start a legal stoush over place-shifting. It’s targeting Optus’ TV Now service, which is a cloud-based PVR thaT can stream to a smartphone. The service offers chasing playback, so you can actually watch the live AFL broadcasts on only a two-minute delay. Australians have had access to place-shifting for several years via various specialist gadgets and online services, but this is probably the most mainstream example we’ve seen to date.

Optus believes it’s protected by the fair use laws which currently let you record the AFL at home to watch later. It looks like we’ll need to court ruling to clarify. A lot is riding on the outcome.

A palm-sized wireless keyboard with a built-in trackpad, for a mere $39, could be the perfect addition to your coffee table.

One of the biggest challenges of the digital lounge room is finding an easy way to control everything from the couch. A programmable universal remote such as a Logitech Harmony makes life much easier, but sometimes you still need access to a keyboard and mouse - especially if you’re struggling with a browser on your television screen.

This is the point where most digital lounge room enthusiasts cobble together a solution, rather than investing in something like the elegant but expensive Logitech diNovo Mini. I have a full-sized wireless keyboard and mouse for the lounge room, but they’re quite cumbersome to use on the couch and take up too much space on the coffee table so I don’t bother with them anymore. I tend to either use Hipporemote on my iPhone to control my media centre from the couch, or admit defeat and walk across the room to use the USB keyboard and mouse I leave plugged into the computer.

Right now I’m testing Kogan’s Agora Internet TV portal, which turns your television into an overgrown Android 2.2 tablet. It’s a little cumbersome and I’m not overly impressed with it, although some Android fans might find it a good fit for their lounge room. What I am impressed with is the optional $39 Android wireless keyboard and trackpad which Kogan sent along with it. It features a full QWERTY keyboard and a trackpad, along with dedicated multimedia and Android buttons. It recharges via USB and even has a built-in backlight.

What’s most impressive is that the keyboard comes with a tiny USB receiver which is plug and play, so you can slip it into your computer, PlayStation 3 or any AV device is which is compatible with a USB keyboard.

If you’re looking for a cheap but elegant way to control your home entertainment gear from the couch, Kogan’s Android wireless keyboard and trackpad is a steal at $39.

Queues to buy cut-price TouchPads don’t mean we misjudged its merit.

HP’s TouchPad was only on Australian shelves for four days before it was scrapped, but after the price was slashed by 80 per cent there were queues to buy them. Some pundits seem to view this as vindication of claims that the TouchPad had been harshly judged.

The truth is that the TouchPad was a slow and cumbersome also-ran, offering poor value for money compared to the iOS and Android devices that you could pick up at a similar price point. If the TouchPad had launched in Australia with a $99 price tag then reviewers would have raved about it. At $99 it certainly offers better value for money than the budget Android tablets we’ve seen from the likes of Telstra and Optus. This doesn't mean the TouchPad deserved greater praise when it was first launched, or that reviewers are out of touch with what people actually expect for their money.

The TouchPad generally met with mediocre reviews which cited the sluggish performance rather than condemning webOS. From the stories which have emerged over the last week, it seems the hardware was more to blame than the webOS operating system which HP gained as part of the Palm acquisition. The sad part about the TouchPad’s demise is that at this price many shoppers are probably snapping them up for the hardware alone, with plans to eventually wipe webOS in favour of Android. It’s an undignified end for the only aspect of the TouchPad which showed any real promise.

Regardless of what becomes of these cut-price gadgets, their posthumous success shouldn’t be viewed as a glowing endorsement of HP’s cumbersome TouchPad.

How many gadgets have you got lying around which were forsaken by their maker?

HP’s decision to scrap the TouchPad tablet only days after it went on sale in Australia is a timely reminder that early adopters are taking a gamble. No-one expects to be left holding an abandoned product after just a few days, but I think most of us would have at least one gadget lying around that’s been disowned by its maker.

If I dig back through time, sifting through the layers of abandoned tech in my office, I’ll come across a Palm personal assistant, Windows Mobile phones and Sony MiniDisc players (both portable and stereo components). Not to mention a few games consoles. I’ve also held grave fears for my TiVo over the last 12 months, but it still seems to be chugging along. Thankfully I don’t have a Betamax VCR or HD DVD player gathering dust, but I know many people do.

Have you been burned over the years? What’s gathering dust in your pile of abandoned tech?

When it’s time to stand up and be counted, I prefer to do it the old-fashioned way.

Once every five years, Census workers cross Australia to deliver the forms so we can take stock as a nation and plan for the future. This year plenty of people filled out the Census form online, but to me some things are too important to be done on a screen. They deserve the sense of occasion associated with holding a piece of paper. From a marriage license to a birth certificate, from a diploma to a mortgage, pieces of paper still mark the milestones in our lives.

As a nerd with a thing for numbers, there’s naturally a sense of excitement in my household come Census night. It also appeals to my sense of tradition, as it’s the 100th anniversary of the nation’s first Census. There’s also feeling of participating in something that’s bigger and more important than our day-to-day lives, similar to election night although thankfully less controversial.

This Census was extra special in my house because we had a new name to add to our family tree. Miss 5, who was still Miss 4 on Census night, missed out on the last Census by a few days. I’m still disappointed that my heavily pregnant wife wouldn’t ride on a donkey back to my parents’ house to be counted in the last Census.

Anyway, filling out the Census is something special in my house. We sit around the dinner table on Census night and discuss every question, with the children providing the answers they know. Some questions are also good for a laugh, especially when you work from home (unfortunately “stagger” wasn’t an option for how you commute to your workplace). I didn’t want to fill out such an important, historic and personal document on an impersonal slab of glass, I wanted to hold it in my hand and know that it’s part of history.

By the Census’ 200th anniversary I’m sure we’ll all fill it out electronically and paper forms will be relegated to museum displays, but I intend to hold out for as along as possible. Filling out the Census around the dinner table, as we break bread on that special night, is an occasion which calls for old-fashioned paper and ink.