I know ‘e’ll dump your skinny arse for me
break
’cos mum taught me ’ow to make a proper cup ’ah tea

Lady Sovereign or Lilly Allen, call me.

1. Install rdebug: sudo gem install rdebug -y

2. Open a session: rdebug script

3. Always show a listing after every command: set autolist

4. Show a variable consistently: display variableName

5. …or the result of a method on a variable: display variableName.methodName

6. Conditional break…conditionally: break ./fileName:lineNumer [if condition]

7. See where you are in the stack ( especially handy if you like recursion, like me ): where

8. Move up/down in the stack: up/down

9. Go to the n^th frame in the stack: frame n

Main entry continued

Jack of all trades
masters of none
thought often better than
a master of one

Adam Savage quoting an English maxim at H.O.P.E.

Steven: Hey did you know Lambie is in the panel picker for SXSW
Lauren: Yes. He sent a twitter note about it….etc.

Today I join, under a great curmudgeonly cloud. Upside, I’ll be much more in the know about parties during SXSW, so, yay.

http://twitter.com/sgharms

My presentation, called Information Shadows: How ubiquitous computing serializes everyday things (1.2MB PDF) is my attempt at showing how ubiquitous computing technology is, in essence, turning whole classes of everyday objects into serials, or services, by creating pervasive digital access to the objects’ metainformation, their information shadows. In the process, I talk about blenders, timeshares, Cuddle Chimps, City Carshare, and Exactitudes. I think it’s a fun talk, and I’m really happy to have had the opportunity to articulate these ideas in this forum.

Source

Around the 3^rd section I lost the flow of the argument, so I wrote out this précis to try to help me keep the ideas straight. If, after seeing the original, you want to see an attempt at condensing the material read on.

Précis of “Information Shadows” by Mike Kuniavsky

1. There would is full of many things.

2. These things can have unique identifiers associated with them ( ISBN, UPC, ASIN )

3. Fait Accompli: Ubiquitous computing

4. Combining 2 and 3 creates the framework for the information shadow: the sum totality of all mentions of the tokens associated with the unique identifier.

5. Application to example: GPS / Taxi.
   
   A unique taxi exists. At any moment, like a subatomic particle, it has a probability field of reputation about it. Some attributes or tokens are more primary than others ( is at Connecticut and 16th St., is occupied, etc. ). Other attributes, can enter the object’s attendant cloud ( or shadow ) quickly thanks to Ubicomp: Twitter Joe says: Taxi 4413 smells like kim-chee. Blogger Jane says: “Taxi 4413 can get from city light to SoMa in under 4 minutes during rush hour - w00t”. A nasally insensitive guy in a hurry will find that Taxi 4413 is generally seen in vicinity of bus terminal…

6. As taxonomic lubricity advances ( Semantic Web, Semantic crawlers, etc. ) more data can be mined more quickly without Ubicomp-enabled humans. Taxi 4413’s license plate appears in flickr, taxirank.com ( proposed ) gathers comments and thumbs up/ downs and the radius of the cloud contains more and more information.

7. Taken to the final yard, the shadow becomes more important than the artifact to which it purports to hang ( major shades of Baudrillard here ).

8. Similarly, people realize their interest in the originative artifact is dwindling and / or interest in possessing the artifact is dwindling for green / hate lugging boxes around as i move a lot / space / incidental cost / etc. reasons. Forerunner cases demonstrated with City Car Share / Zip Car / German Bikes etc.

9. Objects with information shadows can be made dotted-line objects:

Object lesson: Serials ( journals ) are this way. Do you really want that shelf-buckling collection of Nat. Geo’s or would you settle for all of it on DVD, or an ad hoc monthly access fee?

QUESTIONS: What are the virtues of the shadow wrangler?

1. Well, he understands this presentation, obviously
2. What are the economics of the movement of artifact to dotted-line object ( Business Thesis )
3. Can technology be used to accelerate adoption of objects as d-l objects?
4. When the clouds can be mutated between one another we move to a first-level-indirection marketplace. Having a standardized language there would allow interchanges between the d-l object.
5. Isn’t a d-l object essentially the platonic form of the object? It’s all possible instances of the object, it’s the source of the object-ness of that object?

First, is there anyone who doesn’t see this as cynical posturing? Could it be anything but a display to rankle the Conservative Establishment (tm) as a means to guaranteed exposure and sales? After the faux-lesbianism that was t.A.t.U, after the question was explored by Tina Fey and even Roseanne Barr, I can’t believe there’s enough moral outrage left in this issue to squeeze out into that nectar most irresistible to the profit-pollenating bees of controversy. But even when you run out of Christian conservatives, you still have at least two huge sects wherein this sort of thing is haraam-enough to generate sales.

The song is evil because it celebrates using people.

Opines “Perry”:

I kissed a girl and I liked it
The taste of her cherry chap stick
I kissed a girl just to try it
I hope my boyfriend don’t mind it
It felt so wrong
It felt so right
Don’t mean I’m in love tonight
I kissed a girl and I liked it
I liked it

No, I don’t even know your name
It doesn’t matter,
You’re my experimental game

Kissing is a special activity whether your proclivities bend to the gay or straight ( whatever those terms really mean ). In said act the kissed feels special, magical, and the kisser feels a different, but equally important magic.

But for “Perry” this act, described supra, has no magic. Showing absolute disregard for the basis of Kantian-Christian ethics, her experience categorizes her “other” as a thing, a tool, a means to an end and not a person per se.

If we changed the words “a girl” and made the singer a man would any of these formulations be tolerated?

• I kissed a fat chick … she’s [you’re] my experimental game
• I kissed a black chick … she’s [you’re] my experimental game
• I kissed a married guy … he’s [you’re] my experimental game
• I kissed a deaf / blind / retarded girl … he’s [you’re] my experimental game

No, they wouldn’t and damn right; they celebrate a selfish paragon of arrant douchebaggery. Close your eyes and imagine the “churlish frat daddy on Spring break” singing the first one and then high-fiving his ’bro as the “fat chick”, heart full of the “ohmygod he actually thought I was the cute one this time”, came up behind the conversation just in time to get her fragile emotional vessel crushed.² Gets your dander up, no?

Yet because of the cultural infatuation with the Sapphic taboo — especially if they’re young, nubile, and have silky hair like Portia de RossiGeneres — we let unbounded selfishness get a pass. This is wrong.

“The girl” in question was a person and this song completely ignores that. She might have been in the midst of a sexual identity crisis as well and that kiss was meaningful to her, now it’s a cheap game for some self-centered, meretricious, attention-whore.

Selfish bitch.

As if celebrating using people wasn’t evil enough, the song furthers a pernicious form of misogyny: the misogyny perpetrated by the female upon female for the titillation of the heterosexual, male, buying public. The song is celebrating using people to make yourself rich.

Can you even fathom the outrage of a Toofer-from-“30 Rock”-type singing a song about how he wheedled a black woman in the ’hood into a cutthroat loan so he could make his bonus target and get a trip to Tahiti? We’d not stand for it under those conditions, why now?

“I wheedled a hood mom her mortgage / Love the bling on my pinky … What? How dare you judge me

What’s next?

I kicked an old man down the stairs
His medicare check will buy me Prada

I’m put in mind of the stories of the slaves on the ol’ plantation who would rat out slaves planning escape to ’massa as a means for advancement. Cozying-up to ’massa netted succor but did so at the expense of perpetuating a morally reprehensible institution and at the expense of a fellow victim subjugated by said evil institution.

I recall Liz Phair once being called the proponent of “do-me feminism” ( i.e. “women have the right to be sexually active and not be judged differently for the act than men” ). “Perry” is the proponent of fuck-you feminism: “the movement’s dead, I’m looking out for number one, and i’ll put my stiletto heels in the back of as many sisters as I need until I get my ducets — hey sister, at least one of us is advancing.”

Selfish sell-out.

And while the misogyny and the using make the song evil, it doesn’t make it bad. No, that comes courtesy of the internally inconsistent messages within the song itself. While “Perry” is contemplating how nice it has been to baselessly use another human being, later she has the temerity to sing:

Us girls we are so magical
Soft skin, red lips, so kissable
Hard to resist so touchable
Too good to deny it
Ain’t no big deal, it’s innocent

Now while it’s certainly not Shelley, the sentiment here is something that most sexes can recognize as part of the beauty of the feminine form. And “Perry”, I am so with you the first 5 lines of your bridge, but the last one, double negative aside, says that “your game” is “innocent”.

I do not think that word means what you think it means

No, it’s anything but innocent! It’s tawdry and mean. Here’s the worst I’ll say about it, it’s as mean as “In the Company of Men” and that’s about as mean as it gets.

Lastly, Perry’s look is impinging on Zooey Deschanel territory and I don’t like any singers of such hateful material approximating the sweet look of my dear, sweet, blue saucer-eye Zooey - HULK SMASH!

Original: Talented singer and actor Zooey Deschanel

Bad Copy: Possible misogynist and misanthrope “Perry”

I mean really, the look, it’s Zooey’s, stop copying just stop it, stop it, stop it.

In any case, the song is pure evil, and it’s bad, and it, of course, is a hit.³

UPDATE: I left a comment at YouTube under Perry’s video giving a precis of these points and it appears to have been removed. I suppose the clip owner “CapitolRecords” likes controversy about gay or not or tolerant or not, but can’t brook an actual criticism. “Is it OK to be a lesbian” they like being asked, but “is it OK to be a douche of a human being” is too hot to handle, or too inconvenient when you’re making mad money selling the controversy.

Footnotes

1. I say “Perry” because I don’t know if this is actually Ms. Perry’s thought, or if this is the results of some calculated wordsmith who realized that cheap lesbian titillation would sell records. Thus this is the Perry as portrayed by the factual Perry singing the song, versus the factual Perry herself, who may well be a perfectly lovely person — although her taste in material is suspect in either case. “Perry” refers to the singer of the song and Perry refers to actual singer and human. Back

2. Just a quick note, I have only known 2 people in my life in fraternities in any intimate way. One was is my friend who is a thoroughly decent gentleman in Dallas. The other was a guy who was on a project with me my senior year who was kinda flakey. I admit, I’m playing to stereotype here. On the other hand, I’ve heard enough Spring Break stories to think there’s a germ of truth lurking about. Back

3. A culture as bankrupt as this deserves George W. Bush for a president. Back

Ubi sunt qui nos ad civitatem virtutis ducere possunt? O tempora, O mores!

Well, recently I found the application iFlipr. In addition to being a site where you can upload flash cards, it also has an iTouch / iPhone version so that you can review when you’re in the bus, in a waiting room, etc.

So, I needed some code to transform my generic data set into–not LaTex–but iFlipr format. With but the most trivial of changes, I was able to accomplish this. The high readability of “functional” Perl made this, literally, a 3 minute affair.

Here’s the diff:

If you’ve not thought about writing code in this fashion, I hope this entices you! Either that or we should all take up Haskell or Lisp “Lisp (programming language) - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia”)

1. Randall’s: Stocker (fall 94- spring 95)
2. Randall’s: Deli Guy (summer 1995)
3. Kumon: Grader / Instructor (summer 1996)
4. Informal Classes: (fall 1996-spring 1997)
5. Started an a small IT consultancy…

I would like to talk about my tenure as a Deli Guy, #2, above.

As far as your teenage jobs that make you wear a stupid get-up and use cleaning and bleach nightly, it wasn’t actually too bad. Working in the deli meant that you had basically 3 primary roles:

1. Serve food from the deli ( it had usually been fried up hours before, and even then, dumping chicken out a bag and into a fryer wasn’t too hard )
2. Slice meats and cheeses
3. Serve cookies to little kids

In short, it was a pretty easy gig provided you could handle working with those slicers ( maybe I’ll write about my one-and-only accident with that one on another occasion ).

Now, after a certain hour at night, the bakery was empty which was conjoined with the deli area. So one night, nearing close I was standing there waiting to slice up some pastrami or Boar’s Head black forest ham when a panicked lady came up to me. Now panic is not usually a state associated with buying fine imported meat, so I was a bit on edge.

“I need you to make me a cake”

As a matter of fact, under my nametag it said “MEATOLOGIST” to let the world know that my skills were in the cured meats part of the universe.

“You need a cake,” I asked, hesitantly.

“Yes, and as quickly as possible, and I need it to say ‘Congratulations Billy.’ [ or somesuch ]”.

I was unprepared for the idea that I should have something to do with this sought item.

“Hold on just a moment,” I stated, to her obvious chagrin.

“Manager red-line to the deli,” I summoned out over the PA.
“Hey Steven, what’s going on?”.
“Uh, do we make cakes?”
“Sure there’s a big bakery right next to you, right?”
“No, I mean, do I bake cakes”
“Do you know how?”
“No.”
“Then, no.”
“Well I have a lady asking me for a cake”
“Well then give her one in the cooler”
“But she wants a message iced on it”
“…” “I, uh, don’t know how to ice a cursive-y message on a cake, do you”
“Uh, no. Well, do your best and let me know if there are any issues.”

I have come to realize answers such as this are typical of managers, but I was unprepared for the answer at the time. I think the crestfallen look of my face gave away to the lady what the game was.

“Ma’am,” I started, “I cut meat here. I serve chicken over there,” I gestured leftward.

“I can give you one of those big blank cakes in the cooler and you can have cake. But I have no idea how to put a message on it. But I will try, but I’m not sure how well I can do. If you need a cake that badly, then I will try for you. Is this OK?” I tried to say this with the gravity that a doctor might say to an anxious parent whose child could only be saved by a daring cutting-edge technique.

She solemnly nodded.

I said: “Pick out the cake and I’ll get some icing”.

So I went to the baker’s table. Big waxy paper. Check. Funny thimble thing with a hole in it. Check. I went to the baker’s cooler and found a paint can of BLUE. I asked her if blue was OK. She assented and gave me the big white sheet-cake she had found. I guess she figured by giving me a cake shaped like a large “Hello, My Name Is” tag I might not screw it up too bad.

I fashioned a crude cone out of the wax paper and applied the tip. I believe I also took some scotch tape to make sure the tip stayed on. Given the lack of other backup cakes I didn’t want to ruin my only canvas.

I took a large frosting knife and smeared a dollop in the wax paper. I twisted up the top and the misshapen frosting cone was ready to go. I took a test sheet of wax paper and wrote my name. It came out badly. I pulled another sheet, slowed down and tried again. It looked serviceable.

I went around the table and started. Not having written in cursive for many years I was a bit hesitant but was able to write out that message in that diagonal y=.33x+4 upward line that says “Hey, this cake is fun”.

I looked at my handiwork and then at her. Her eyes were doe-like and seeking. I put down my sugary tube-ball of icing and walked the cake over to her. My eyes met hers and then she looked at the cake. She looked back up and me and said: “Not bad!”.

I gathered the plastic protector and sold her the cake. I turned around to the baking table which had smears of blue everywhere.

I put the tools of the trade away and cleaned up, dousing the table with disinfectant bleach before turning off the lights.

I headed back to my post to count out the remaining few minutes, praying that no one else had a cake emergency.

Thus when today the League posted Cake Wrecks, I immediately felt for those creators.

And this one I just forget, because I tend to use hashes

Better yet are those who I discovered: The League and the missus, other friends, family and passers-by of their way.

Sometimes it’s also been a way to keep my California friends and folks aware of what was going on with me out there in the middle of our continent.

I’ve shared pictures and code and rants and raves. I even urged my girlfriend to get a site which she has designed into an ordered, pristine beauty.

According to Wordpress I’ve written 1013 entries. That’s about 200 entries a year. Yikes.

But it also is the season of the marking of my trip around old Sol and it was a really wonderful occasion this year. Lauren surprised me by keeping me in the dark as to what would happen.

Saturday we slept in ( mel-a-to-nin, hell yes ) and I was woken up with Lauren’s fabulous fritatta. It is, how you say, so tasty. Creamed spinach, cream, eggs, mushrooms, and a secret blend of spicy kick makes you say “ow” and “mm” simultaneously. I’m glad Lauren’s tastebuds warmed up to Texas chile-friendly cookin’.

Lauren baked through most of the day but she had arranged for oh so many of my friends to come and meet us at Threadgills that evening. Present were:

The Garcias. Alfredo, who has always had the skill of being a master of costume, stentorian oration, and croquet and his lovely wife made it. While my dancing obligation and their trivia mania keeps us apart, it was great to see them.

Juan G. et Letitia who tolerates my abysmal French. Juan’s iPhone shredded cheese and made the photos that Lauren made into a photomontage ( see below ). Letty is also the only person who wished me « bon anniversaire », and that’s special

Juan D. who is one cool cat. I had recently learned about Juan’s mastery of synthesizers from the lamentably-absent Nicole ( who was in a cave, working out that “Tom Sawyer” solo ). I never have a chance to speak with him as long as I wish because I’m either quickly heading down in a spiral of Crown Royal or there’s just too much going on. We actually did get to talk a bit of e-music and I can certainly imagine him having been a good teacher of synthesizer theory.

I also believe I may have called him “Mr. Garcia” upon the conclusion of the evening. I woke Sunday morning thinking “did I call Juan by the wrong surname?” Juan, if you remember, which I clearly don’t ( Margarita Fail!), and I did the wrong way, sorry about that.

The Melbotises were both there, of course, with a family theme enhanced by the presence of League-brother and legal eagle Steanso.

Making my birthday even more festive was the fact that my friend Trevor’s music career appears to be in a really exciting nascent state. Now, mark you well, he’s been working for a great many years in that luxuriously beautiful study of his where only his iMac and the stillness of 5 ante meridien cup his creative dæmon–but the world seems to be opening up thanks to a recent performance in that city of the avant garde artist, Berlin.

Trevor also took the time to consider my research proposal theses which he basically said were crap ( but in a very nice fashion ) and offered to help me refine other lines of questioning. Academic life is riddled with such challenges in pursuit of truth, so I’m thankful for his feedback and his offer to read future suggestions. I really feel like all my friends are really supportive of my school idea, so thank you. I shall be very sad to tell you all of my non-prospects in but a few months.

And last in the order, but first in the parking lot, was Matt who also started the trend of giving me bottles of red wine. This action was echoed by Jason as well as the Garcias. Thank you all for such gifts. Apparently the red-skinned grape has some kooky molecule in it that makes you live longer, and I like the idea of that, so thanks.

Incidentally, Nicole, there was a cupcake that went home with Matt for you. I’m not saying you’re going to get it, but it was sent.

Also I must thank The League et uxor for their gift of literature. While my reading these a days usually finds punctuation in “(A) is greater, (B) is greater, (C) the quantities are equal, or (D) cannot be determined”, one day I will get back to books that involve sentiments. Although before the festivities I got to read “The Killing Joke” which had been lent to Lauren and I remembered how interesting ( and terribly, terribly gruesome ) it is. DC really had it going on back in that era: Alan Moore, Neil Gaiman, and Frank Miller all pushing the craft forward ( Ryan has some great thoughts on how The Dark Knight basically pulled a “Dark Knight Returns” on the superhero movie industry ).

So thank you, thank you all so much for coming out. But in a world where schedules are so variable, and it’s so rare for a birthday to actually fall on a Saturday, I must thank the person who tirelessly herded all the kittens: my friend, my true love, my wonderful girlfriend, Lauren.

I admit, I wasn’t that hot on the idea of a birthday this year. 31 seems kinda the sucks. Lauren insisted. I said “OK, whatever” but she turned it into something really special. A great big thanks is owed to her because not only did she do all the arranging: she also baked the finest deserts imaginable: Chocolate Satin Icing Cupcakes and cherry pie. To say what Lauren made were “cupcakes” is liking saying a Rothko is “a painting”. They were spectacular and her cherry pie, made with delicious, fresh cherries delivered a tart-sweet one-two punch.

The entire event was marked by my recent obsession with love of “Wall·E” and even my Wall·E and EVE figurines made an appearance ( see video, below ).

The cuisine at Threadgills was steaky, fried, cheesy Texas heart-attack fare. It was delicious.

At the end of festivities, we bade farewell to our guests and headed over to check out the “White Ghost Shivers” who were playing at the outdoor pavilion. WGS are a downright ribald “hot string” / ragtime band. Their favorite song topics usually involve: hooch, stickiest of the icky, women of questionable morals, entendres, silliness, The Charleston, and waking up in strange places with strange people. Match this with slide whistles, banjos, clarinets, the occasional ukelele, and some devil-summoning fiddle work, you have a great musical time.

We made it out to the dance, er, field, and tried to keep up. A bit of Balboa on the fast songs, a bit of lindy-hop on the slow, we managed to kick up some dust and enjoy the show in a new way.

We drove back home and as we crossed the 183 split the clock turned past midnight, a birth-day was done.

Thanks again to all those who came out and most of all to my dearest, most wonderful girlfriend who made the day magical for even curmudgeonly old me.