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Tape Media and Disk Media: Which Backup Solution is Right for You?
Any business must secure its mission critical data to satisfy the present day governmental norms. But, in times of any disaster like software/hardware malfunctioning, virus affecting, hacking, etc., all the mission critical data might get lost. It is, therefore, much required to have a back up facility of all the major business documents. This will surely provide you an opportunity to get back on your feet once again and continue operating the business successfully.
There are basically two mediums that can be used as a backup storage technology: tape media and disc media. However, before selecting one technology, you need to make adequate research so that you can get hold of the medium that will be apt to your organization’s demands.
As promised last week in the article Two LTO Consortium Studies Reveal the Benefits of Tape Storage, and to help the the world wide IT managers in this respect, below is a comparative study of both these media:
Cost has always been a major factor in taking any decision. So, you need to calculate the acquisition and operational costs involved before selecting any particular back up storage technology. Tape media can save up to 75 per cent of your acquisition cost and also have proved to require 7 times lesser operational charges when compared to the disc media over a time frame of 5 years.
Tape industry also supports a wide variety of file formats. These include Super AIT, DLT, DDS/DAT, Travan, DLT, LTO, and VXA. And the major file formats that are supported by disc media include RDX removable disk cartridge, SATA hard drive, and RAID.
Data compression is one of the most essential functionality that increases both data transfer speed and media capacity to a great extent. In most of the tape formats, their capacity and speed almost gets doubled with data compression.
In terms of storage capabilities too, tape media surpass that of the disc media. The introduction of 2 TB SATA drives in the market is aptly met with the ultrium 5 cartridges of tape media technology. They have a humongous storage capacity of 3 TB (compressed).
Tape media also offer a great solution in protecting the mission critical data of your organization through data encryption functionality. Both the LTO ultrium 4 and LTO 5 are standard tape media formats that make tape media technology the best option to store your business data.
Durability is also a major issue that always ranks tape media higher than disc media. Tape media can quite easily withstand shocks and vibrations, and are also less prone of getting damaged from accidental drops. Whereas, disc media is more fragile and require careful handling.
Tape media also enjoy a larger life cycle. The usual time frame of the back up tape cartridges are calculated to be 30 years.
So, the study clearly shows that tape media technology should be preferred over disc media as a backup storage option.
“Last Night Never Happened” App Still Can’t Undo Those Ten Kamikaze Shots You Did. Drinking and status updating has become so rampant in America that we now have the Last Night Never Happened app, which deletes all your social networking activity going back however many hours you choose. And it says so much about us as a society that our latest technological innovation is designed to keep us from telling other people we wet ourselves at the pool bar last night. Perhaps more preventive apps should be considered, such as an OFF switch.
Techmology - is it good, or is it wack?
It wasn’t working. He needed it and it wasn’t working.
Martin stared at the screen and all the little muscles in his body twitched. There was no sound, no light, no space or form coming through. All the things he listened to and watched and played and read to make him feel like a human being had drained away, because it simply was not working.
He drummed his fingers on the desk, then his knuckles, then his fists, making noise. Building up a head of steam. His teeth ground together, his breaths grew short and fast. He was no longer aware of his body, or the basement room, or even the desk, but only of the blank screen as the object of his rage. It had no right to go on strike - he would have rationalised, had he been capable of it at that moment. It had no right to trick him and leave him in the lurch. It was a traitor, a betrayer, a socialist, an evildoer. DAMN YOU - erupted from his unfelt lips. It was the sound of a spring being wound up tight.
And then it released and his fist was through the fucking screen, and his arm was filled with splinters of black glass. The blood flowed between his knuckles and down the palm of his hand and down to his elbow and dripped on the floor drop by filthy drop and he wasn’t angry any more because it hurt but he couldn’t shriek because there was something else, mingled with the blood.
The liquid internet, released from its prison, dribbled and oozed from the wounded screen. It stained his arm, and the keyboard, and his trousers and the neglected carpet, grey rivulets running in every direction. It was what Martin had hungered for and he plunged his bloodied fingers into his mouth for it, to taste its burning-dust taste (coppery with haemoglobin). Pornography danced between him and his brutalised computer. His hearing was obliterated in a cacophony of sound-effects. His features were caving in as the internet consumed the flesh beneath, but he didn’t feel it. He didn’t notice as the grey matter poured up through the walls, through cracks in the ceiling, digitising everything. He was rushing through bullshit and humorous animal pictures at a thousand miles an hour as the rising tide engulfed him. All he knew how to do was communicate. It was a revelation of Nirvana. All the cheesy names of features of websites were clear and distinct ideas before him. He was the all-consuming god of a two-dimensional world.
What was left of Martin now? His limbs were liquefied, his organs outsourced. His testicles were linked by a single strand of nerve fibre, where once he had a spine, to his atrophied brain. Slowly he sank through the murky muck that issued forth from the breached computer, until he folded up, on the floor, in a corner of the room, totally inert.
In the kitchen above, his mother hummed and pottered. A recipe book was open, revealing a golden-brown chicken pie. The worktop was dusted with flour, prepared for the packet of pastry in her hand. Under the table, Peanuts the cat licked himself privately. He had no concept of ‘internet’.
But it had a concept of him. A greasy bulb of it emerged at the grout nexus of four tiles, swelling and quivering until it burst. In all directions across the floor the watery, contaminated stuff ran, moistening first the legs of chairs and then those of the oblivious Peanuts. It slithered, anaesthetic, between his hairs, just above the skin, until his fur was entirely soaked.
Sarah felt a splash at her ankle. She turned around and her blissful ignorance was shattered - for the floor itself was quavering, dissolving, where the bleb of fluid had risen. Faint images, banal, violent, obscene, played across the liquid’s surface. The pastry carton fell from her hand and she tried to run but it held her, and as she watched the table keeled over sideways, its legs sinking through the disintegrating floor with a sad sucking sound. And from beneath the table crawled Peanuts, and from his mouth came words.
Within the cat’s throat, the internet was doing its business. His larynx was putty in its hands. It forced its way through the back of his nasal cavity and into his skull, and there it set in motion thoughts and desires he could never have imagined before. The agony in his head was eclipsed by his newfound capacity to wonder, and he looked more soulfully than he ever had into the eyes of his owner. And he asked, like an alien explorer on first contact with a race far wiser and more ancient than his own, the question burning at the bottom of his heart.
Sarah’s jaw dropped. She gripped the countertop and tried to heave herself away but the internet was there, too, lapping between her fingers, bubbling up from the sink. MARTIN - she screamed, and tried to take a step, but she had no feet. Her blood was mingling with the stuff, dissolving into pixels, as it rushed up her veins and into her heart. She could no longer feel. An unknown world opened before her and she was in it, jumping on magazines and old movies like lifeboats, her memory of the kitchen, of Peanuts, of Martin, washing away. All that was left of her was a foetal husk to match her son’s.
The internet flowed under the door and into the street.
Woke up today to find that my computer can’t play sound any more. I’ve researched and read and checked; the problem is almost certainly hardware (there isn’t even any startup chime), probably the logic board. My machine dates back to 2009; it’s been a good run. It’s old enough that the thought of spending a significant amount of money fixing it, when it’s already started the slowing down that all computers succumb to eventually, doesn’t make much sense to me. I guess it’s time to look for a new computer… or a USB sound card. The USB sound card looks to be around $20. We’ll try that tomorrow, then.