February 2008 Archives

I watched Road to Perdition this morning. A pleasant way to spend a morning.

There is no small debate about the serial comma (also known as the Oxford Comma). It is a comma used before a coordinating conjunction (such as "and") before the last item in a series of three or more. For example: The flag is red, white, and blue.

The AP style book says the example should read: The flag is red, white and blue.

I'm happy to say I am a proud supporter of the serial comma. In most situations, this comma may not seem necessary. But when a single list item contains an 'and', the serial comma is the only way to properly format the list, as in this example:

Our choice of salad dressings were ranch, oil and vinegar, and bleu cheese.

Since the serial comma is required in this situation, I feel it's best to use it in all situations for consistency.

High Tech Cowboys of the Deep Seas: The Race to Save the Cougar Ace

A great article about a salvage team working to save a capsized cargo ship off the Aleutians.

I hope your day was special.

"Cowardice asks the question, 'Is it safe?' Expediency asks the question, 'Is it politic?' Vanity asks the question, 'Is it popular?' But, conscience asks the question, 'Is it right?' And there comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but one must take it because one's conscience tells one that it is right." - Martin Luther King, Jr.

This article by Nick Ienatsch was originally published in the August 1995 issue of Sport Rider magazine.

Ten years ago I signed on at Motorcyclist magazine and began commuting to work on a motorcycle over the busiest freeways and streets of Los Angeles. In those 10 years of commuting, two staff members had commuting accidents, neither of which caused significant damage or pain. That's five to seven editors riding to work every working day for 10 years. If we were the survey panel, the conclusion would be that commuting on a motorcycle is an extremely safe way to get to work. And with the proper skills, it can be.

Experience is a great teacher, but an often painful one. To help shortcut experience, we've compiled five basic steps to existing in traffic to help get commuters out of their cars and onto motorcycles. You'll save time (one of the few nonreplenishable resources we have!) and reduce parking problems, and your work day will begin and end with less stress and more pleasure. One thing we know for sure: That sport bike in your garage isn't just for Sunday mornings.

I watched Ocean's Thirteen this morning. After a wonderful Valtentine's Day, I didn't get to sleep until about 1:45am, with a 6:15am alarm. Of course, Buddy decided he had to bark at some raccoon or something, which woke us up two or three times. I finally had to do something mean to get him to come inside — I went out with his retractable leash, which enticed him enough to come up on the back porch. From there, I man-handled him into the back bathroom — which of course woke me up even more.

...a lazy cat, basking in the morning sunshine. Their fur is so soft and warm.

Gavin loves it when we leave the blinds open in the family room in the morning. Early in the season, he has to sit on the top of the chair to find a patch of sunlight, but in a few weeks he'll have sun patches on the carpeting. He'll sit in a sunny spot, and wait until it has all moved away, then get up and find the new spot.

I ambled into the lobby of my company's building in Glendale this morning, with all my riding gear on. The building has a first-rate security staff - friendly, competent, helpful — just about everything you could want.

So, I'm walking past the guard station, and the guy asks me "Hey - what kind of bike do you ride?" We'd been exchanging hellos for months and have had a few chats, so the informality was cool. I stopped, and told him I rode a Yamaha FJR1300. He says with a smile "so that's your big blue bike down on B2?" We chatted a little more, then I left to go upstairs, with both of us smiling.

Now, I'm left to wonder if this was just your normal, friendly chat, or if it was some subtle way of letting me know that they know that I'm parking on B2 when I shouldn't. If it's just friendly conversation, that's great. But if it was meant to be a friendly warning, then I'd have to say "impressive; most impressive."

I sometimes amazes me how little some programmers know about the nuts and bolts of vi. They've spent four hours or more a day, every day, for years and years using vi, and they know only the most basic features.

There's a guy at work who's always giving hallway lectures on the newest cutting edge technology - python, SCONS, blah, blah, blah - but the last time I sat with him at his terminal, his vi skills were so basic and he took so long to get things done, I wanted to scream.

This article on ThatNight.net had a pretty cool idea for a personal CD cover that goes like this:

1. The first article on this random wiki page is the name of your band;
2. the last four words of the very last quote on this random quote page is the title of your album; and
3. the third picture here, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

Here's my CD:

My band's name is Anticoagulant, which is appropriate for me, because I get small amounts of anticoagulants during platelet donations. My quote was from George Herbert:

Every mile is two in winter.

From The Codist...

Writing multithreaded code is like juggling chainsaws; amazing when it works and truly sucky when it doesn't.

Right now at my job I am writing the foundation for a transaction processing cluster in Java, so I'm immersed in lots and lots of threads and interacting applications. When you are processing 8000 of something per second, any problems in your approach or in your choice of frameworks is magnified.

In job interviews, a popular question is "what is the major problem you have to solve in writing multithreaded code?" Generally, if they have read a little about it, they often say "avoiding deadlocks". If they have done a bit of thread coding, maybe in Swing, they might say "protected shared data". Only the truly experienced in complex threaded coding will say "avoiding doing nothing".

Today I made enchiladas, spanish rice, beans, and yesterday I made a run to Galco's and Sams' Club for real sodas. The game was only so-so, but the food was good (even if the rice was a little crunchy).

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The Dog's Diary

8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm - Dinner! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

The Cat's Diary

Day 983 of my captivity.

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.

They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.

The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet. Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates my capabilities. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Bastards!

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my
tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow, but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released, and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.

The bird must be an informant. I observe him communicate with the Guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an Elevated Cell, so he is safe.

For now...

The first batch I made got rave reviews. I used the original directions, but will try the alternate ones next time.

Ingredients

• 2 cups butter (four cubes, or one full box) - softened
• 1 cup packed brown sugar
• 4½ cups all-purpose flour

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 325°.
2. Cream butter and brown sugar. Add 3 to 3¾ cups flour; mix well.
3. Sprinkle board with remaining flour. Knead for 5 minutes, adding enough flour to make a soft dough. Roll to ½ inch thickness. Cut into 3"x1" strips. Price with fork and place on ungreased baking sheets.
4. Bake at 325° for 20 to 25 minutes.

Variations

• Add all four cups of flour at the beginning, and mix well. Omit kneading and rolling. Scoop out golf-ball size balls, place them on the ungreased cooking sheet, and put a thumb-print in the middle of the ball to flatten them. Cook for the suggested time.

gnomon

The part of a sundial that casts the shadow.

In the picture, the gnomon is the thin bar running vertically in the foreground.

I watched Batman Begins this morning, doing only a double batch for some reason. Christian Bale can act, and any movie with Morgan Freeman and Gary Oldman must be okay. I even managed to overcome my Katie Holmes is a zombie feelings. All in all, not bad.