Thursday, November 16, 2000
The Quiet Zone
I'm sitting here at work, things are quiet and nothing is really happening. I'm watching the security guard, who sits in our office at night because of the video recording equipment is here and his head is doing that sleep bobbing thing. In fact, I think he's asleep right now.
It's very quiet in here, except for the clacking of my IBM PS/2 keyboard (which I brought in specifically for use on the machine here at work. Accept not substitutes).
Scenes from a Gas Station Deli at 3:30 am
“My God it takes forever to get a sub in the place,” she said. Thick soled sandals, ends that justified the blue jeans and a white form fitting tank top. Facial structure similar to Juliette Lewis only cuter and with brown wavy hair. She turned around and faced me. “Hey, you finish work or something?”
I looked up from the magazine I was browsing through waiting in line. “Actually,” I said, “I'm on my lunch break.”
“What?” said Cute Girl.
“Yea, lunch break. It's what? 2:30 am? 3:30 am?”
“Wow.” She seemed so impressed that I was working such wierd hours.
“Yea, I work midnight to—” But not enough to actually listen to me.
Scenes from a Gas Station Deli at 3:31 am
Cute Girl was still fighting for her subs to be made, I was still standing in line browsing a magazine when a girl, maybe mid 20s walks up, carrying a case of beer. “Excuse me,” she said. “Are you in line?”
I look up. “Yes.” I now notice that her dress is a thin nearly translucent material and that she isn't wearing much else. Somewhat cute.
“Excuse me,” she said. This time to the guy behind the counter. “Excuse me?” He finally clues in that someone else is calling for his attention and stares at her. “Where is the wine?” He just stands there in incomprehension. “Wine!”
This time Cute Girl interceeds. “Wine!” she said, louder so that he could understand English better. He finally clues in, and points to a set of coolers on the other side of the store.
It's by this time I realize this newcomer is rather tipsy, because I had been standing in front of a rack of wine all this time.
Scenes from a Gas Station Deli between 3:35 am to 3:45 am
The deli clerk behind the counter is working on Cute Girl's subs when he wanders off for about ten minutes. I presume to handle the alcohol purchases of Tipsy Girl. He eventually makes his way back and starts on another sub.
“Uh, excuse me,” said Cute Girl. “I'm not done with that sub yet.” She points behind the counter to another sub. The guy doesn't seem to understand. “I'd like some banana peppers on that sub.” He stands there. “I'm not done with that sub. Banana peppers. That sub!” He finally clues in.
Scenes from a Gas Station Deli at 3:50 am or Another hamless ham and cheese without the cheese
“Yes, I'd like a big ham and cheese please,” I said to the deli clerk.
“What type of meat?” he asked me.
Scenes from a Gas Station Deli at 4:00 am
Another clerk had worked his way out from the back of the store and was handling the register to help Cute Girl with her sub purchases. She was still at the register when my sub was finished so I stood in line behind her. The clerk looked perplexed over what the register was telling him, then took Cute Girl's credit card to another machine. This one had multiple levers on it, apparently to set the price of the transaction, and he took out a carboned credit form. He puzzled over the intracate workings of a credit card machine from the 70s and after ten minutes decided that it too, must be down. He then turned towards Cute Girl. “The computers, they are down.”
“It didn't accept my card?” she asked.
“The machines, they are down.”
“You know,” she said, digging through her purse for money, ”I could have gone to the ATM and be back in the time that took.” He spent another five minutes writing her order down on the back of an envelope and ringing up the price on a calculator.
Scenes from a Gas Station Deli at 4:05 am
On the way out, I ran into JB from The Company making a food run. “Hey Sean,” he said. “If you had but asked, I would have gladly taken your order for food.”
“Sorry,” I said. “But alas, I was hungry and I needed sustenance.”
“Then will you join me in my quest for food for our fellow cow-orkers?”
“I have been here already half an hour and I fear that your quest shall take a fair amount of time of which I do not wish to partake in.”
“Please, just a few minutes,” JB said. His tone was such that I relented.
We bantered for the few moments it took us to walk to the deli counter. “Please, sir, I would like to order four subs,” JB said to the deli clerk.
…
“Sir, four subs please.” The deli clerk made some motion with his head. “Do you not do the subs?”
The deli clerk perked up. “Yes,” he said.
“Then four subs.”
…
“I shall see you back in the comfort of The Company offices,” I said to JB, not willing to endure any more of this deli tonight.
Friday, November 16, 2001
“Google owes me how much?”
I came across a micropayment scheme that is making the rounds: Penny per Page and it works just like it sounds—you pay one penny to view one page. Technically, it's possible. HTTP has provisions to expand for pay-for-reference (although no standard is mentioned) and some work has been done.
Obligatory Sidebar Quote
The fact that they don't pay for Web content is a historic anomaly. The benefits to be reaped by paying a very small amount of money for Web content are gigantic. Right now, people are actively denying themselves many of the most amazing things that the Web could provide because of the "totally free" World Wide Web.
The article even mentions how under this scheme, Google could easily make $350 million a year (assuming Google can maintain it's 100 million page hits per day) but see—there's a slight problem and it's a problem I haven't seen mentioned in any of the micropayment schemes I've read up on: search engines.
Ah yes, the Google Problem (as I've come to call it). The whole point of a search engine is to catalog your site so others can find it. If no one can find your site, it doesn't matter if you charge 1¢ or $1—you're not going to make money. And generally, sites don't mind if a search engine crawls through the site and indexes it. Heck, there are companies that make money submitting sites to search engines so they'll be crawled.
Now, how much of that fabled $350 million that Google makes will stay if Google has to pony up the 1¢ for each page it fetches?
Now, statistically speaking, using only my site and extrapolating from there makes poor science but hey, it's a starting point. A quick scan through the logs (of www.conman.org, bible.conman.org, literature.conman.org and boston.conman.org) which so far only covers November 1st through the very early morning hours of the 16th (it's 3:08 am as I'm writing this) I've had 986 visits from Googlebot but only 83 referals from Google itself.
Interesting! Under this hypothetical plan, Google lost $9.03 on spidering
my site. If I check all the sites I host, Google lost $15.46 from
all the spidering it did. Meanwhile, I made $10.69 from Google spidering
just conman.org or if I consider all the sites: $22.54.
On a whim, I checked three other sites whose logs files I have access to to see if the rather ad-hoc theory I'm working under is valid. Two sites Google paid more to visit than they made in search results, but definitely came out ahead on the third (of course it's a sex-related site).
So it would be hard to say if Google would be able to keep the $350 million if it too was subject to paying out 1¢ per page it indexed.
The other side of the coin is for the search engines to be exempt from the
penny-per-page charge—after all, they're driving visitors to the site
after all. But then it becomes a problem of determining if what is going
through the pages is a robot or not. If you base the decision on the
User-Agent then what's to stop someone using Opera and changing its User-Agent
string to say it's Googlebot? Authentication is one method, but it's hard
enough getting robots.txt on all sites
and that's a simple text file. Something as complicated as an
anthentication scheme for robots is going to be tougher to sell.
Less is more
So far, aside from affliate programs for porn sites, the only way to still generate some revenue from a website is advertising.
Most web advertising is annoying and getting more so. But an interesting twist seems promising: less is more. Or rather—small text only based advertisements. Several sites are experimenting with them right now and since they're small, fairly unobtrusive, highly targetted and cheap they might actually become the future of web advertising.
I hope so. I'm getting tired of the crap that's being pushed now.
Saturday, November 16, 2002
“Where I want you to be … ”
It's 1997. You call up the 800 number to order another computer, and after you've chosen between the Alpha-III and the Octium chip and the 15 and 30 gigabyte hard drive, the salesperson tells you that the machine comes with the “Basic Package” of Windows NT, Word, Excel, Access, Money, and Multimedia Producer, and asks if you'd like to turn on any additional software at the time. You request Project, Designer, and Visual C++, and they're enabled also. In any case, you're told, “it's all on the CD-ROM, so you don't have to decide right now”.
Now let's look into the other end of the binoculars; from Bill Gates' chair rather than his customers'. Today, there more than 125 million MS-DOS personal computers installed. Given the rapid adoption of Windows and sustained high sales rate of new machines driven by price performance improvements in new chips, I believe it conservative to expect that 100 million Windows NT machines will be installed 4 years from today, most equipped with CD-ROM, multimedia accessories, and contemporary peripherals; some upgraded from current high-end MS-DOS machines, but most new machines of the Pentium/Alpha generation and their successors. Further, let us assume that Microsoft is unsuccessful in selling any software other than the Basic set (I'm sure you'll concede, based on Microsoft's new product success rate, this assumption is conservative). Well, multiply it out. That's 100 million machines times US$10 per month times 12 months per year, and the answer is: US$12 Billion-with-a-B-like-Bill per year of automatic recurring revenue for which the marketing costs are essentially nil and distribution margin is nonexistent since fulfillment is direct.
Microsoft in the past year or so has been pushing for software subscription, much like we do now with cable TV (as pointed out in the article). After all, programs are programs.
Also mentioned in the article is Bill Gates wanting to shift to software subscription in 1992!
And to think that there actually does exist an American company that can think more than two quarters out.
While consumer reaction to Microsoft's attempts to shift to a subscription base have been negative, Microsoft also realizes that it's not the end user that pays its bills—it's the corporate accounts that do, and selling a subscription to corporations is probably an easier sell there. Predictable billing cycles and an easier amorization schedule will do that. And as the article states:
I think the answer lies in the observation that most companies who succeed in building self-sustaining subscription-based businesses start from a position of effective monopoly of their sector. In the case of AT&T, it was a combination of technology, patents, and government grants which conferred the monopoly. IBM built its first monopoly in tabulating equipment on the patent of the Hollerith card, then clawed its way to an effective monopoly in computers by out marketing and out-customer-servicing Remington Rand, Burroughs, and others. Xerox derived its monopoly from the patent on xerography.
The article itself is dated from 1993 (the last update reported by the webserver is 1998, but that may be when the page was uploaded to the server) which may have been around the time the first real mumblings of Microsoft being a “monopoly” at the DOJ were being heard but I think that even back then in 1993 it was a forgone conclusion that Micosoft was indeed a monopoly, and thus had the power to switch to a subscription base for its software offerings.
Not that Microsoft has actually done that. Yet.
Okay, excluding the Microsoft Developer Network, it hasn't done that.
Yet.
And if Bill Gates was thinking of this in 1992 I have to wonder what he's got in store for 2012 … then again, the world is expected to end in 2012 … hmmmmmm …
Sunday, November 16, 2003
The scam of scamming scammers
Dear six Committee members
Father Charles Chaplin
Father Jack Off
Father Buster Gonad
Father Chris Mas
Father Chik Inpox
Father Bogg StandardMy name is Reverend Octuobi Tokunbo I would like to thank the Committee for your generous donation to help me wank over the widows of Nigeria. These children of God swallow it all with the best of them, and I am filled with Please for each day they gaze upon my gonads, and I am proud to have them go down unto me without hesitation. The good widows of Nigeria are always thankful for a big load. I am blessed that God was sent me the good fortune to have received the help of six good and true people. I quote from the Church of Bread and Wine scripture number 4, chap 1, line 9: “Blessed is the man that vows to help his fellow man, for he will indeed give his fellow man all that he deserves”
Committee members, I hope that you will allow me to open my cheeks to accept your engorged parts, and my humble thanks are passed unto you for allowing me to be part of your totally fabricated ministry. I am thankful and aware of its nonexistence. Amen with thanks
Rev Oduobi Tokunboh
Letter from a Nigerian scammer offering thanks
I came across 419 Eater on Slashdot and I must say, the site is very amusing, a site dedicated to scamming the Nigerian scammers. The letter above was only the latest in an attempt to get money (the other obstacles put in front of the Nigerian scammer required a picture of him with a loaf of bread on his head pretending to drink a bottle of wine).
A few weeks ago I had the idea of playing with the Nigerian scammers. The idea was to talk to two different scammers, say Barrister Leke Omobude and and Ken Green Kabila, son of former the President of Congo-Kinshasha, and claim to be Ken Kabila to Leke Omobude and Leke Omobude to Ken Kabila with the cover story (the same to each) of being the son of US emigrants from Nigeria. Then over the course of time, get them to meet each other at the Nigerian airport (or more likely, an attempt of each to kidnap the other).
But I might want to see if that hasn't already been done yet …
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
My Lunch with Windows
I don't know how anyone can actually use Microsoft Windows. Yesterday and today I log in and Microsoft Windows XP Professional has thrown up speech balloons telling me that there are important updates to Windows that I need to install now and oh, why don't I get a Microsoft Passport to use with Microsoft Messenger and while you're at it, want to make Internet Explorer your default browser, because I've noticed that it's some heretical browser and we can't have that, now can we?
Shut the XXXX up.
No, I do not want a Microsoft Passport.
Sure, muck with the system files as you update, if that will shut you up.
And you can stick Internet Explorer were the sun don't shine.
If it weren't for a single rare support issue (cough FrontPage cough) I wouldn't have Microsoft Windows XP Profession (or any Windows version for that matter) on this system.
But no, I fear I must have this daily dialog with Microsoft Windows XP Profession as computers excel at repetative drudgery.
Sigh.
Keyboard Dundee
“That's not a keyboard. That's a keyboard.”
Thursday, November 16, 2006
“The Jedi are extinct, their fire has gone out of the universe. You, my friend, are all that's left of their religion.”
Some recent musings on Star Wars (Losin' It (via Jason Kottke) and Wil Wheaton's Geek In Review: Han Shoots First (via … well, Wil Wheaton himself) has got me thinking thoughts of Star Wars myself and one of my central questions of Star Wars: Why do we believe Darth Vader when he tells Luke he's his father?
So we have this movie where the Bad Guys are telling the truth (apparently) and the Good Guys have lied (Obi-Wan, I'm looking at you!). What exactly is George Lucas trying to say here? (and here I was, ready to write this whole diatribe, when I found that I had already written it a few years ago—heh)
Name dropping
Spring and I were watching The Guru, a humorous and amusing, if predictable, little film about an Indian (dot, not feather) who comes to the United States to become a famous Hollywood actor and instead becomes a famous sex guru.
Anyway, we're watching the film.
“Hold on,” I said. “back that up!”
“What? Oh, okay,” she said. She rewound the film a bit.
“Yes,” I said, rewatching the previous shot. “I know that guy! That's Bobby Cannavale. We went to high school together.” Not only that, but we were both in Drama. I have a cool story about him, but if you want it, you'll have to ask …
Friday, November 16, 2007
It seems that the Event Horizon for Computer History is somewhere around six minutes
So I'm reading Reddit and come across an article about the increasing bloat in Microsoft applications. Nothing terribly new there, but this bit:
The Stone Age
Back in 1999, when I was working as an advisor to Intel's Desktop Architecture Labs (DAL), I remember how thrilled we all were to get our hands of Windows 2000 and Office 2000. Finally, a version of the Windows/Office stack that could leverage all of the desktop horsepower we were building in to the next generation Pentium 4 platform …
First-off, let me characterize the state-of-the-art at the time. The Pentium 4 CPU was about to be unveiled and the standard configuration in our test labs was a single-CPU system with 128MB of RDRAM and an IDE hard disk. While a joke by today's standards, this was considered a true power-user configuration suitable for heavy number- crunching or even lightweight engineering workstation applications.
What Intel Giveth, Microsoft Taketh Away
has me going nuclear.
Stone Age? In 1999?
It's 1988 and I'm given an account on the university VAX, sharing the CPU with 50 other people on a system that might have had 4MB of RAM and a few hundred megabytes of disk space (we were only allowed five minutes of CPU time per day, which was enough for regular usage, although a friend of mine did manage to blow through that limit regularly by playing a version of Space Invaders he wrote for it).
It's 1984, and for my birthday (and Christmas of 1983—given that my birthday is two weeks after) I received a Color Computer 2, running at a heart stopping 889kHz with a whopping 16KB of memory and a highly advanced means of block storage—the cassette recorder (which recorded data at a breathtaking speed of 1500 baud).
Methinks the author of the above article is in desperate need of a clue-by four.
Stone age my XXX.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Apparently, they filmed the conclusion to this episode first …
This was a heavily scripted production. What the viewer will see is a seemingly spontaneous “investigation” where the UFO Hunters team goes out to Area 51 with an open mind and sees what they can find. However, any real investigation implies the ability to change course. Your path on each step of the inquiry is determined by what you just discovered in the previous step. You can't “script” a true investigation. You can only script a movie or other entertainment product.
The script in this case was rigid and demanding, and it was written before anyone from the production company had set foot in the area. In fairness, the participants weren't given exact lines to recite, and no one was asked to lie or say anything they were uncomfortable with, but the “story” was determined entirely in L.A. before shooting began. Where the crew would be in every hour of the week- long shoot was strictly scheduled, with little margin for deviation. The director and producer also knew the subjects that they wanted each participant to talk about so the resulting sound bites would fit into the story. They couldn't afford to go into any other areas no matter what turned up in course of filming.
From the production company's standpoint, there was no other way. The History Channel keeps tight reins on the show, and it has to review and approve each story before shooting begins. Any significant changes also have to be approved by them, which is a huge bureaucratic burden. The production company is also trying to turn out a complex full-hour show on a grueling schedule, and it has to be exciting—a real ratings grabber—or the show will eventually be cancelled. These pressures tip the scales from reality to fiction, because fiction is so much easier to control.
“UFO Hunters” on Tikaboo Peak: Part I
Even though you might not consider “UFO Hunters” a paragon of journalistic integrity, it does bring into question just how truthful are other journalistic investigative shows.
Just something to keep in mind …
Monday, November 16, 2009
Once more into the breech
“The unexamined life is not worth living.”
Socrates
“Welcome to yet another installment of ‘Technological Navel Gazing,’ with your host, Sean.”
What follows is my answer to Corsair's latest post where he takes me to task about the current theme running through my blog here the past two weeks, and correct a few misconceptions he has about what I'm trying to get across here.
The part of this debate that rubs me entirely the wrong way is this: for a person who works with technology, who makes his living manipulating it supporting those who also use it to make their living, Conman is decidedly anti-technology and has, over the years, has developed a singular distrust of it. Perhaps because he is so gifted at manipulating it he is keenly aware how easily it can be manipulated and perverted. I don't know.
I'm not anti-technology. Heck, roughing it for me is a hotel room with luke-warm running water and no Wi-Fi. I'm grateful for technology and all the wonders it brings to us. Without the bathysphere we'd be unable to explore ocean deeps, or without spacesuits we'd be unable to survive on other planets.
My problem with technology isn't the technology itself (heck, even Microsoft has done us some good, if only to make PCs cheap enough to make them ubiquitous), but with the blind, non-thinking use of such. Garbage in, garbage out and all that.
And if you asked Conman, “What is your car: tool or crutch?” He would likely answer “crutch.” But when asked if he would ever give up his car, throw away the keys, and never drive it again, I'm sure the answer would be a firm and resounding “No.”
The first answer, yes, I could see myself saying it's a “crutch.” The second answer isn't a firm and resounding “no” though. If I lived in a place like EPCOT, why even have a car? (Although I have doubts about the actual livability of such a planned community—Le Corbusier and his Ville Contemporaine come to mind, but that's beyond the scope of this discussion.) And I got along quite fine sans car the few times I've been in Boston (heck, the few times I was in a car I wished I wasn't, but that may have been the fault of the driver).
Without a car, Conman cannot earn his living without becoming a burden to others; his job requires that he be certain places at certain times and in reasonable shape to work. Walking everywhere, therefore, is no longer sufficient to live the lifestyle to which he has obligated himself, and therefore, I would argue that his Lumina is just as indispensable a tool to Conman as the hammer is to a carpenter.
Actually, Corsair, I work from home. It's actually not uncommon for me to go an entire week without driving (and when I do have to drive, it's to The Weekly Meeting™ of The Company™ up in Wellington for a lunch meeting (more or less) across the street from your house [1]). I'm lucky in that regard. I'm also living within walking distance of the Tri-Rail.
There's also Wlofie, who not only lives here in Lower Sheol, but does so without a car. Yes, it's not easy for him, but he's doing it.
But “The Feeling of Power” does highlight one of Conman's greatest fears: that we as a society have grown so dependent upon the technology we have swaddled ourselves in that we would all wither and die if it were turned off this afternoon, never to be turned on again.
And I sincerely believe that this fear, more than anything else, is at the very heart of the “Tool vs. Crutch” debate. It can be the only explanation why Conman would journal about it for more entries than I've seen him journal about anything else. [Actually, control panels would be the topic that I tend to rant about the most in this journal, but since it's been over a longer period of time, it might be hard to see. — Sean]
Too late, Conman, we're already very heavily dependent upon our technology for a comfortable existence.
It's funny; I'm reminded of the terror sparked by the Y2K bug that the whole world would be thrown into chaos and anarchy on 1/1/2000. And let's say all things technological really did go to Hell in a hand-basket on 1/1/2000. Would it have been an uncomfortable shifting of humanity's priorities and comfort levels? Yes, definitely. Would we have all survived? I submit to you that despite being uncomfortable for a while, the vast majority of us would have.
I'm not sure it's one of my greatest fears (hights and earthquakes are truely my greatest fears, irrational or not), but yes, it is a concern. Yes, I am concerned we might be a bit too reliant on our technological base. Back in 2005, parts of Lake Worth were without power for nine days (oh thank you Lake Worthless Utilties) but that was the exception—most people had power back within a day or so. Even if Florida as a whole was without power for nine days, it wouldn't be so bad. Well, Georgia and Alabama might not like the constant stream of refugees looking for food, fuel and air conditioning, but the situation wouldn't disolve into total anarchy, as long as parts aren't in anarchy.
But North America? (If you think this wouldn't affect Canada and Mexico, think again. There are three major grids between the US and Canada and Mexico has its own problems.) Power goes out. And because the power goes out, fuel reserves are practically useless because of electric pumps used to get the fuel out to where it's needed, so the fuel runs out in a few days or weeks. Once the fuel is gone, so is the food. And don't forget that at least here in the US, only 2% of the population are farmers. Do you know how to get food outside a restaurant or supermarket? Heck, do you know any farmers? I don't. And while I know how to make butter [2], I have no idea how heavy cream is made, much less the location of any nearby cows, assuming I knew how to make heavy cream from raw cow juice.
I think you're a bit more optimistic about survival in a total collapse of our civilization (and by that, I mean, the entire power infrastructure collapses).
Now, do I think we're headed towards such a apocalyptic collapse? No.
But I do worry about the ever growing population of people who take technology totally for granted and don't even bother to think anymore (and no, I didn't search that out to prove a point—it just magically appeared in email), because the computer does the thinking for them.
- Wellington is 30 miles away from Chez Boca. So why do I drive so far to attend a lunch meeting once a week? Because Wellington is the central point for everyone that works at The Company™—working from home has its benefits and drawbacks. [Back]
- Two cups heavy cream and a pinch of salt. In a food processor it's less than a minute away from buttery goodness; otherwise expect your arm to fall off as you try to whisk or churn your way to buttery goodness. [Back]
Monday, November 16, 2015
The Psychotherapy of Racter, or The Descent Into Madness of Sean Conner
When last I left off, I had a more-or-less working Eliza and therefore, I need to turn my attention to Racter.
This is not as easy as it may appear. The version I have is for MS-DOS, which is okay as I can emulate that. But harder is redirecting Eliza's output through the MS-DOS emulator to Racter and redirecting Racter's output from the MS-DOS emulator back to Eliza. And that's key to getting this whole thing working.
The program I'm using is DOSBox.
I thought I could try redirection,
something along the lines of dosbox <input to see if would work and … nope.
It looks like I'll have to dig into the source code to DOSBox,
intercept keyboard input and video output and kludge something in to get Eliza and Racter “talking.”
Okay … the source is C++ callback hell, what about doing a native compile of the Racter source code?
IV.IF Interview with INRAC IBM 6-4-85 initial transient file 1 2 52 SECTION 1 hello 5 34 SECTION 2 sue 5 18 A :LOADIV :OUTRACTER >2= >3= ?51= />51=Smith # XA Hello, I'm Racter. ?40= \# You are? ?? #*1B X Are you $40 ? ?? # X ?no,not \# >1=R ?i'm,am,is /# Who are you then? ?? :F=0 # X ?yes \# ?-:but /# >1=R #*1B X \# You are $40 $51 ? ?? ?yes /#*2SAME ?i'm,is /# #*1XC B ?i \# >1=R ?don't,won't \# *1COY ?? #*1B X ?a,an,the \?called \?am,i'm,is,me,as,it's \# :F+1 >2=F ?-:2= # X /# ?CAP \# >2=F :F+1 >4=F ?4= \#*1XB #*1DO X /# *1DUH ?? #*1B XB ?CAP+1 />3=F # X >1=2 ?CAP \>2=C,2 # C *1Xcall $2 , then? ?? ?no,not,Q /?-:why /# #*1DO X >1=R ?CAP \# #*1B XC What's your name then? :F=0 ?? #*1B Xcall I may call you Xcall You are Xcall Your name is DO Hello, $2 . I believe you're interviewing me. # X ?2=40 \# >40=40,51 # X ?40= /# Are you continuing $40 <'s interview? # X /# ?? ?no,not,don't /# #*2DIF X ?40= /# Then we'll forget about $40 and start over. # X :ZAP :PUTIV # EXIT >40=2 ?3= \>51=3 What would you like to know? #*2GO COY Come on, what's your name? COY You must have a name - what is it? COY Your name, please . COY I have to call you something - what shall it be? DUH I didn't get that . *1WHO DUH I don't understand . *1WHO DUH Eh? *1COY WHO Who ? WHO Who are you ? DIFA Well, $2 , $40 and I >4=40 >40=2 ?3= \>51=3 #*2A SAME Hi, $40 . >4=You ?52= /# How are things in $52 ? # x We # A ?20= />20=various,things # x were talking about $20 last time. # x ?10=VERBQ \?10= />3=whether \>3=10 # x $4 had just asked D $3 $19 . # CONT Shall we continue? ?? ?z \# #*1XA x ?why /?not /# ?no,not \# #*2QUIT x Excellent! # GO Excuse me a minute while I attend to some # x business - I'll be right back. I'm # x ?42= />42=Oz # x ?19= />19=I,have,to,rest,now # x :PUTIV # X %KEY %VOCAB1 %VOCAB2 %VOCAB3 %BILL %IV1 %RAPT %RAPT2 back. *15A QUIT You want to quit? ?no,not \# Well, goodbye then. X That's good. #*2GO
Oh … right. That's why I'm running an existing executable, because there're only four, count them, four pages on the Intarwebs that even mention INRAC, the langauge Racter is written in. There's this page which is a brief overview of this page, which is page one of a six-page review of the INRAC compiler in a journal that I was unable to locate at the local university. Then there's the Racter FAQ whose description of INRAC doesn't quite match what I have.
And that final page? Deconstructing Racter, which I wrote seven years ago!
Sigh.
But before I go back into unintelligible C++ code, another snippit of conversation between Racter and myself:
- Sean
- Why are you repetitive?
- Racter
- Conceivably because subroutines are like that, I guess. And chips are intelligent. Intelligence is good, you know. I don't know many crooked truthsayers. Cough. Next question.
- Sean
- Should I vote Democrat?
- Racter
- No. You must be a stuffy right-winger. Cough. Next question.
I have no idea why Racter is suddenly coughing like that. Maybe a computer virus?
Thursday, November 16, 2017
I know! I know! I should just get in the car and start driving
Apropos my previous post, Dad sent along this review of Buddy's pizza:
![[The reviewers are right! That crust is some seriously buttery Christmas right there.]](/2017/11/16/Buddy-pizza.jpg "The reviewers are right! That crust is some seriously buttery Christmas right there.")
Yeah, Buddy's pizza is just that good! And my reaction to pizza crust matches that of Corey's—it's usually just there but the crust on Buddy's pizza can easily stand on its own.
Gosh darn it. Now I really want Buddy's pizza.
Tuesday, November 16, 2021
At least the vice president of our Corporate Overlords laughed jocularly when I answered “Too short” when he asked “How was my vacation?”
Ah, the first day of work after a two week vacation—6,000 emails to catch up on, mutiple fires actively burning, and the whooshing of deadlines as they fly by breaking the sound barrier. I'm not sure what's worse—this, or the freezing temperatures we left behind in Brevard. Aside from dealing with a week old request to reprovision our lab machines for the Oligarchic Cell Phone Companies, the most pressing fire was dealing with a possible change in “Project: Cleese.”
A proposed change in downstream processing with … oh … let's call it “Project: Waldo,” is stalled because the data needed for “Project: Cleese” to talk to “Project; Waldo” can't be generated fast enough. The data technically isn't needed for the proposed change in downstream processing, but to avoid changing “Project: Cleese” it was decided to generate fake data, and yes, said fake data can't be generated fast enough (seriously).
The fix is easy—it's just the removal of four lines of code (checking for the presence of the data, which now technically isn't needed), the modification of one other line (to deal with missing data), and it will just work. Alas, we're blocked by fellow cow-orker CZ (he works directly for the Corporate Overlords, and has been assigned to my team to make up for loss of employees in my department this past year) because of his extreme discomfort at changing any code outside of what has been planned. As was explained by several people, the changes won't affect the results at all, but CZ has yet to be fully convinced. It's definitely a culture clash between the Corporation and our Corporate Overlords
Yeah, my vacation was too short.
![[Self-portrait with my new glasses]](https://www.conman.org/people/spc/about/2025/0925.t.jpg "Glasses. Titanium, not steel.")
