BigBlackBugEngine

It's Naughts, already!

2010-01-01T10:04:00.000-08:00

We won't settle on a name for the decade. Why?

The petulant child we've become asserts that in this narrow instance we're free to discard the direction of the whole of literary and linguistic tradition. And this has been going on for the entire decade when the topic first surfaced. What a great example of the willingness to discard history's lessons. Look no further for a sentiment to sum up the decade.

There's nothing special about the term, "naught." It is, however, the appropriate term for this most recent decade. I've heard the term "aught" used as well, although their definitions lead me to conclude that "naught" is more applicable. I will be using it; forcefully, and will consider resistance to its use an affront to our civilization and preservation of our culture. So there.

rain again

2009-08-08T10:59:00.000-07:00

...frames the hiatus.

rain

2009-04-25T18:20:00.001-07:00

Saturday rain.

The frogs are singing for booty. They're loud.

Chopped more wood. Back is aching. DTW442 practice late tonight.

Salt Mine Elevator

2009-01-13T19:26:00.000-08:00

Need a new job.

Burned hours on a stupid obvious problem. Too distracted by task managing and bullshit to just become one with it and figure it out.

Is ringing in your ears from stress bad?

Salt Mine Elevator

2009-01-08T09:02:00.000-08:00

Technology standards -

Pointless unless the following question can be answered in the affirmative.

Does the effort required to develop, implement, maintain, and enforce them outweigh the added effort caused by their absence?

Tipping Point

2009-01-07T16:12:00.000-08:00

The package of chicken was from a company called "Amick."

Really? How many people does that fool.

How about the person who thought of that? Do you want to smack them in the head with a mallet as much as I do?

Fred Barnes Fashion Watch

2009-01-07T15:46:00.000-08:00

Not sure why, but tonight I really like Fred's suit. Kinda early 80's Wall Street, and I'm not sure about the candy cane tie, but it works.

Oh holy shit - Mort's wearing the same grey pinstripe suit. Wow. Mort's got it going on with the checked shirt and dotted tie.

Those guys are fucking fashion pirates, damn.

Salt Mine Elevator

2009-01-07T13:12:00.000-08:00

Large bureaucracies breed absurdities that are easy enough to articulate, but it's a challenge to convey the level of mind fuckery and ridiculousness that's a part of normal daily life.

I will do a better job of capturing some of it. If we don't identify evil we are powerless to stop it.

For instance, email requires the use of an "email alias," also known as a UPN; recognizable as youremail@yourdomain.whatev. If you administer an email system, or any other kind of large computer system with many users, it's necessary to decide on a naming standard for things. In the case of usernames, sometimes it's just their last name with a number. Sometimes it's more complicated, because the corporate shit-weasel that's driving the decision doesn't always comprehend the consequences of a poorly thought-out naming convention.

If my company's corporate shit-weasel created a dumb fucking naming convention, consequences will include various techniques for dealing with the inconvenience of Bob's email address being b4x7yyy25-a2@assholecompany.com. One of the best and most readily available ways to do this is to have a directory. Email programs use this to avoid the need to know that seemingly random string of characters when one wishes to email Bob. You've used this when you've clicked on "to" in your email program.

Now, the problem I've noticed; and this could be just a habit of the morons I work with, is to use this string, this pointless clusterfuck meaningless eyesore of digits. It's colloquially known as a "nic," (for nickname.) People write these down and share them.

"Ok, I'll email you that thingy. What's your nic?"

No, no, a million times no. Do not ask me for my nic. You know my name. Look it up in the fucking directory. Holy crap why does this make me so damn mad?

Tipping point

2009-01-03T13:22:00.001-08:00

All speech is lies. All transactions are theft.

I will explain later.

Rotten, Forgotten

2008-12-15T16:01:00.000-08:00

It's so deliciously corny, and yet I don't care a whit. I'm walking through this damn process. This is the synopsis for the first book -

The unfortunate souls who remember a decade back to the "Rotten, Forgotten" war are driven mad by the memories too absurd and awful for nightmares. The fragile deception that's allowed a few of them to return to a normal lives have cracked and are slipping away. Echoes of gnashing gears and smashing steel signal their foe's return. The "Old Grease Can" is tracking them down; one at a time. Only by remembering who they were will they be able to win back their lives as free men.

Salt Mine Elevator

2008-12-11T02:48:00.000-08:00

Quoted from a corporate broadcast email:

"Thank you for your immediate cooperation."

Passive aggressive, much?

Ministry of Workers' Furniture

2008-12-10T18:19:00.000-08:00

Yep, I got shit from someone for switching chairs. I wanted a chair that would go up high enough so I could try to get in a better position for typing.

He was wearing a black shirt with red printing. It made me think of the scene in Dr. Zhivago when he returns to his house in the city, only to find it's been sub-divided and many families are crowded into it. The party apparatchik there to enforce the "arrangement" looked exactly like the officer of the Ministry of Workers' Furniture that castigated me for swapping chairs.

Thanksgiving '08

2008-12-09T17:34:00.000-08:00

My family is just as embarrassing as yours. Celebrating prosperity without being reminded of this might make us too egotistical. Distinguishing between what makes our families retarded and what makes them heroic is a challenge. We all dread and relish the Thanksgiving gathering, sometimes in equal parts. At the end we complain about so-and-so's kids, while straining against our newly-snug waistbands, secretly plotting when we'll break into the dressing leftovers later that night.

My mother called ahead of time as we drove to my mother-in-law's to confirm the logistical arrangements of her arrival. She'd pull into the drive, honk, and squads of able-bodied men would spring into action, racing to her aid. You see, a light dusting of snow recently fell on the pavement, and my father-in-law hadn't had the opportunity to salt the drive. The risk of falling was so great, it was imperative all available resources be marshalled to mitigate it. Of course when we arrived, we found she had simply walked from her car to the house.

Entering the home, coats are gathered and children pitched to the basement. Drinks are identified, and claims are staked around the appetizers. Never enough room for plates and bowls on any surface of this home. The lady of the house has a serious case of a common bourgeois affliction where the victim finds themselves unable to stop purchasing pointless nick-nacks and art objects. It's a mostly harmless habit, and keeps millions of Chinese employed. This time of year is worst, as the Christmas decorations have already invaded and started to multiply. Nevertheless, there's always room for the makeshift bar on the washing machine near the door to the garage. Odd how prime living space in the kitchen is reserved for X-mas miniatures, but the service of beverages is banished to the laundry room on the way to the garage.

Drinks in hand the job now is to fill up on appetizers. Have to get that stomach stretched out to accept the multiple plates of meat, gravy, starch, and various casseroles. Remember to Smile and say "Hello" to the elderly guests seated around the hearth. Moving to the topic of football. "Oy, the Lions." Everyone has a groan. "On track to a perfect season, 0 and 16!" "Yep, we're all pulling for them." The random pleas for attention from various children are intially ignored.

During this time food will be shuffled between houses in the neighborhood, as this house's cooking capacity has been reached. The din of rumpus from the basement passes the point where the responsible parents in the house are compelled to investigate.

My wife's step-brother arrives. He's brought a kitten with him. This is inexplicable, and still no one is able to understand why. The kitten is thankfully in a carrier, but not for long. Soon it has made its way behind the andirons and fireplace screen. It's huddling behind the gas log, peering up at the humans that are loudly noting the flammable properties of its fur. Deftly, someone is able to toss aside the the screen and 8 or so decorative candles on the way to retrieving the cat from behind the glowing gas fire log. Shrieks of terror give way to sighs of relief, followed by questions and recriminations; the usual. The cat has made no more appearances or news yet this year.

Potatoes must be mashed. This is my job. I mash until I'm instructed to stop, and then a goodly amount more. This is key. Mash until you're sure you've mashed enough, then three times longer.

This year the turkey is exceptionaly large; over thirty pounds. It does just barely fit in the largest of pots, but just so. When it's reached the proper internal temperature, it's heaved onto the counter. The immense size of the bird has created a complication. It's stuck. It is one with the pot. Gravy can not be produced until the bird is extracted. All the utensils are tried and exhausted. My father-in-law, having a mechanical bent, heads for the garage. He returns with two aluminum shelving brackets, a roll of galvanized wire, and a camping shovel. A plan is developed using the available materials, and much to the dismay of the women present, the shovel is cleaned in the sink with the dish soap, dried, and shoved under the hind end of the bird. Wire is tied to a bracket. The bracket is fed along the front of the bird, then attached to the other bracket as a handle. The shovel is employed at the rear of the bird as a lever. Between failed attempts to extract the bird, a knife is run along the side of the pan in an attempt to sever the bond. Amidst the aroma of freshly roasted turkey, a giant slurping sound marks the point at which the bond is released. Carefull balanced on the blade of the shovel, the carameled brown mass is transferred to a tray for carving. My brother-in-law's father was a cook in the army. Yes, his nickname was "Cookie." He's hacking at the crumbling mountain, trying not to burn himself on the bone.

Not long after, it's generally accepted that it's time to eat. Plates for children are spooned, buttered, and gravied. The little ones are herded, soothed, then threatened, and eventually seated. The serving dance begins. Men hover while women busy themselves to avoid the food. The younger family members able to serve themselves and the elderly saunter up to the area closest to the unsoiled dishes and cutlery. Those with presense of mind replenish their refreshments first. Dinner in hand, a casual browsing for a comfortable spot to perch begins. Still the men wait as the women lose enthusiasm for the dance. Finally discarding the charade they gather their portions. Not until it's apparant that the last of the grown women in the house have started to dish is it safe for the men to consider it. My father-in-law is past the point where these unspoken customs are observed. Wisdom sharpens the judgment, trivialities are discarded. To the contrary, my brother-in-law will not be topped. I've seen him man the grill for cookouts of upwards to 50 people, where he would cook all the food and watch it be consumed before considering his own meal. Part martyr, part mensch.

In between grunts of praise and admiration for the cook, my son was heard reciting the story of the pilgrims. Filtered, of course, through whatever interpretation of the events is popular with elementary educators today. I recall hearing the name "Squanto" more than a few times. It's one of those words that people have to repeat when they hear it, just to confirm they can pronounce it. It will be interesting to hear what interpretation is fed to his children. I still don't know who Squanto was.

Overloaded plates are cleaned, refilled, and cleaned again. Maybe another trip for a few more bites of rutebega or cucumber salad. At some point critical mass is reached, and jockeying for leftovers begins. They're put into spare tinfoil pans, then in plastic bags to be piled on the porch in areas reserved for the attending families.

Everyone's family has the best Thanksgiving dishes and sides, and I'm sure everyone's is more or less the same.

Of course...

2008-12-08T09:48:00.001-08:00

I was never a mediocre sysadmin, anyway. I'm a mediocre unemployed writer that makes a living as a mediocre sysadmin.

Not a novice, by any means. When one considers the volume of written work I've done, that doesn't apply. Sure, the volume is 99.7% fishheads and brine, but I'm owning it.

Margin calls

2008-12-06T08:41:00.000-08:00

O.J. is going to jail, and the ponzi-scheme bubble of secondary credit markets has popped. These things are related.

My father-in-law and I have been marveling at the market turmoil of the last few months. I suggested maybe what we were seeing was the inevitable outcome of a system that was inherently flawed. We create legal arrangements and instruments allowing debt and obligation to become portable. Maybe these arrangements are always doomed to fail, because maybe it's just plain old wrong. Something he said clarified it for me, though; "As long as the passing of the debt includes a mechanism for making the collection, it's valid." That's the key. There's a connection that can't be severed, because otherwise the value the paper represents evaporates. It's not a physical thing, it's a rule. A rule men must follow for the whole thing to work.

The judge at the recent O.J. sentencing was very explicit this sentence was not "payback for anything else." I'm willing to accept that, but I'm sure the judge isn't going to stake her reputation on that. He broke the law and he's going to jail. The which, why, and for whats are essentially beside the point now. This is why we have judges, after all, and not just automatic sentences upon guilty verdicts. Rule of law? Eh, whatever.

Can the conditions that led to his being found not-guilty for murder so many years ago be identified? Are they related to the flaws that allow us to condone other unethical behavior, like hiding bad loans under AAA ratings? Not to put the act of pushing fishy paper on the same plane as cutting someone's throat, or gaming the system to let the cutter get away with it.

We have a process for determining guilt and administering punishment. Like any other institution, the legal system doesn't work as designed when the people manning the process behave unethically, or incompetently.

Free markets are being blamed for the credit crisis, but it doesn't take much to skewer that rhetoric. Would a truly free market allow conditions where money can be loaned to people unable to pay it back? If you'd rather blame the greedy fat cats on Wall Street and their creative accounting, you may. Consider when you do that a truly free market demands transparency and freedom of information between both sides of any transaction. Now take a look at those derivative formulas and bond ratings again and tell me how "free market" those are.

The accepted definition of the term 'usury' is the act of lending money at a rate of interest that is not legal or fair. In the past it was considered immoral to loan money at any rate of interest at all. Aristotle notes in 'Politics' that it "makes a gain out of money itself, and not from the natural object of it. For money was intended to be used in exchange, but not to increase at interest."

So are complex financial instruments like mortgage backed securities and credit default swaps right or wrong? Yes, they are. No, they aren't. That wasn't the question anyway.

This is about how people are held accountable. We demand a consequence for unethical behavior, lest we quickly fall back to the Hobbesian existence. Everyone has to be both aware of the ethic, and the consequence for violating it. Murder is easy to identify. Unethically gaming a complex securities market that's legal on it's face, but nearly impossible for all but the most educated and experienced financial minds to unravel, not so much.

O.J. didn't get away with murder. Sometimes margins get called.

gas-puller

2008-03-10T14:23:00.000-07:00

Machines can't do everything. I've heard they used to be not able to drive cars or trucks. When they did eventually learn to drive cars and trucks, they still couldn't do a few things that they needed truck drivers to do, so they had to keep truck drivers around awhile.
One of the things last things they needed people for was backing trucks up. When you go to truck driver school, it's largely what you would expect. Regulations, safety inspections, log books, and the actual driving part. Thing is, 90% of the driving part is learning to back the thing up into a loading dock. In fact, that's where most of the people trying to learn to drive the big rigs failed and had to drop out. There's just something inexplicably human about that task.

Cockpuncher!

2008-03-05T08:26:00.000-08:00

That's all. Just that.

Cockpuncher.

Say it to yourself...

Cockpuncher...
Cockpuncher...

See?

What'd I tell ya?

Hah!

Getting it out of my pocket

2008-02-03T10:10:00.000-08:00

May, 2007 -

Wow - Dang! Rolled the fuck over doing 60 mph. Just missed going over the wall. Tried to swerve, hit the wall. The sound - grinding, sliding, glass falling up.

While glass was spraying up into my face, the motion necessary to reach and un-clip my phone appeared with clarity - to call my wife and my boss. Before the car stopped moving. Not supposed to be upside down.

Is AIX even Unix?

2008-01-18T12:19:00.000-08:00

Seems more like windoze to me. I swear, I fucking hate it. How did they get people to pay for this crap?

Honestly, though. I'm probably not being fair. I'm definitely ignorant of a lot of important details. Undoubtedly I would be embarrassed at my lack of understanding of what is likely a very basic and logical package management scheme.

Kind of don't care at this point.

You hear that, AIX? I hate your guts and if you were a person I'd punch you right in the face.

Teh Fred! and I

2008-01-13T09:10:00.000-08:00

Things I have in common with Fred Thompson -

1. Hot wife

2. "...has a habit of rocking on the back legs of his chair."

Xen scratch pad

2007-12-30T07:36:00.000-08:00

Wow - Xen is awesome! Didn't realize it was *not* that difficult; especially since there's plenty of wiki and howto help on the tubes nowadays.

There's a few important details I don't want to forget, though - so I'll put them up here:

Configs:

dir = /home/xen size = 4Gb # Disk image size. memory = 128Mb # Memory size <-- default setting - prolly not enough swap = 128Mb # Swap size fs = ext3 # use the EXT3 filesystem for the disk image. dist = etch # Default distribution to install. image = sparse # Specify sparse vs. full disk images. gateway = gateway addy netmask = 255.255.255.0 passwd = 1 kernel = /boot/vmlinuz-2.6.19-4-server <-- needs to be on host initrd = /boot/initrd.img-2.6.19-4-server mirror = http://ftp.us.debian.org/debian/

Commands:

Create an image and have it auto-load debian etch:
sudo xen-create-image --hostname=instance_ID --ip=addy --ide --force --debootstrap

Start an instance:
sudo xm create /etc/xen/instance_ID

Stop an instance with the destroy arg to xm.

Pull up the console:
xm console instance_ID

Exit the console like telnet (ctrl+])

Just a matter of time...

2007-12-28T04:53:00.000-08:00

Almost got yanked into a 5 car pile up on the way in to work today. Just humming along in the hammer lane; 70 - 75mph. All of a sudden it's brake lights and SUVs lurching forward from hard braking right in front of me, and vehicles bailing for the shoulder. I broke hard, but didn't feel confident I could escape a collision, so I bailed, too.

So what was the ephing problem? Why did everyone panic like that?

Couldn't tell, but there was an SUV pulled off to the left. No collisions, no obvious signs of breakdown, flat, etc.

I will credit it to ding-bat stupidity and lack of consideration.

Endless vacation

2007-12-27T05:04:00.000-08:00

...or maybe not so much. Dang that flew by.

Back to work today; punishing commute included.

Dear Lady at the Foo-Foo perfume shop...

2007-12-22T07:44:00.000-08:00

Okay - I knew you had what I was after because I called first. I wouldn't have drove twenty minutes if I wasn't sure. I made a reasonable attempt to find what I needed on my own. Not an easy thing to do in a Foo-Foo perfume shop that is designed specifically to discourage this type of shopping.

You knew I was not thrilled to be there; you could tell right away from my dress, attitude, and demeanor. Nevertheless, I was determined to be a good shopper. Once you acknowledged me after a brief eye-contact, I gave you the key pieces of information you needed to help me...

Type of product (fragrance)
Name of manufacturer (Yves Saint blahdeeblah)
Specific name of product (Paris)

...

Now...this should have been more than sufficient. If this were an auto-parts or hardware store I would have had the item in my hand within seconds, or would have been guided to the display where I could choose from whatever options were available.

Instead, I got a blank stare, followed by a shrugging "I don't think we have that." Excuse me? I repeated myself.

"Do you mean Paris Hilton?" ...who must have a fragrance of her own.

"No."

Again with the blank stare. Like *I'm* the idiot.

"I called ahead of time to confirm you had it before I drove here."

"Here?" she asked. I nodded. At least I thought she said "here." Actually she said "hair," so then she's walking over to the lady at the hair-care products to ask her if she'd ever heard of it. Keep in mind this is not some one-off obscure thing we're talking about. This is a product that has been produced for many years. The hair lady never heard of it either.

Now I'm sweating. "I called first to make sure you have it. Could you just tell me where the Yves Saint Laurent products are?" After being led back to the fragrances, I realize that if I would have just spent one or two more minutes looking I would have found it on my own. I see it immediately upon identifying the YSL display. I'm now finished with the over-coiffed, fake-tanned divorcee that has just ruined my mood...I thought.

"So you want the chrome candlesticks or the red ones?"

Now it's my turn to stare blankely.

"You get candlesticks with a purchase."

"But I don't need any candlesticks" I said while realizing that was the wrong thing to say.

"Oh, but they're FREE!!!"

I hesitate a moment, then manage to blurt out, "but I'll just throw them away. I don't want them."

Now it's her turn to be finished with me. I can't blame her, as this brief exchange was enough to foul an otherwise satisfactory afternoon for both of us.

I'm sorry, but expecting me to take home some cheap, tacky candlesticks (a $75 value!) that I don't want or need is just wrong in too many ways. I most of all resent the attempt to put the guilt for disposing of this $75 value on my head when I toss them in the dumpster with the rest of the packaging and plastic.

You Veel Taek Time Ohf!!!

2007-12-21T06:29:00.000-08:00

Day 5 of "Managed Vacation."

...yawn...

Vacation day with Zeke

2007-12-18T13:40:00.000-08:00

Spent the entire day with Zeke out in the snow. Soaked through my coveralls and engineer boots. Built a snow fort with a roof. The boys can almost stand up in it and two adults could fit in it comfortably. The roof was actually not too difficult. Just had to find a lot of sticks to lay across the top and weave together, then covered with about a foot of snow. Lot of work, though. I'm hit. I told Zeke that in a couple days he could test climbing up on it. I think it will hold, but we'll see.

Ouch my tooth

2007-12-17T07:27:00.001-08:00

So is the tendency for my teeth to abscess a natural genetic predisposition?

...or did I get this from my mother?

Internal Field Separator

2007-12-14T12:30:00.000-08:00

I will find those responsible for the development of the Korn shell and they will be made to pay. Why?

You'd think that the IFS would be: '\n' to set to newline, right?

No.

It's:

'
'

: \

Eph you and your Ephing Spreadsheet!!!

2007-12-11T12:59:00.000-08:00

The most terrifying sentence where I work:

"I'm from the Project Management Office and I have a spreadsheet I'd like you to take a look at."

Why must DnB remind me how ghey it is?

2007-12-10T10:18:00.000-08:00

I love Drum and Bass techno. I listen to it all day at work. I'm secure enough in my manhood to admit it.

I don't understand why the DJs need to constantly pipe in to the stream and demonstrate just how ghey.

Awesome Jane Canary Quote

2006-08-01T14:12:00.000-07:00

Fuck yourself,
with a fist-punch up your ass,
today,
at the present moment.