Illusory Follies

I normally do not participate in this sort of thing. But this one is a little bit more interesting and I have precious little information about myself on this blog. So when my lil’ sister Alison “tagged” me to write up 7 random things about me, I’ve decided I’ll actually do it. I’ve made it slightly more interesting (scary?) by making them things that I’d not terribly proud of about myself.

7 Random Things About Me That I Don’t Normally Admit

1. I’m red/green colorblind. My wife (and my oldest kid) are incredibly color oriented. I’ve wondered many times if my wife has tetrachromacy. This random fact is one that is used to the infinite amusement of family and friends as in “Hey, what color does the carpet look like? What about the blinds? Wow! That’s weird!”. Please stop — thank you.

2. I’m a terrible cook. This has not stopped me from trying. I’d like to take this time to apologize to my family especially and the close friends that I have caused to suffer. I assure you, my intent is delicious food.

3. I have a dream… that one day I will be an author. I don’t feel particularly gifted nor do I have anything particular interesting to share with the world but I think that it would be fun to work from home all the time, wake up late, and write off trips to exotic places as business expenses. I’ve also considered writing technical books like those in the O’Reilly series. Most of the authors write terrible drivel so my title would fit nicely. (By the way, I like O’Reilly better than any other tech-book publisher — I just think most of the authors are better coders than writers).

4. I like ABBA (the dance/pop group). I’m sorry Sarah.

5. On a related note, I have taught my oldest son to dance. I’m sorry Patrick. Very sorry.

6. I think that binary is really cool. I fantasize that I have an audience who cares about me explaining it to them. In fact, I regularly “test the waters” by attempting to explain base n number systems to those around me. This explains why I rarely get party invitations.

7. Speaking of numbers, I like them a lot and try to memorize them. I still know one of my good friend’s Social Security Numbers (Sam, you should have NEVER let me get near your wallet) and I can assure you that the largest size of a signed, 32-bit integer is 2,147,483,647. They’re fun. I’m worse with numbers and letters together (as in license plates) but I’m trying to hone my skills (my brother said he knew/heard of someone who could keep a queue of 7 or so in his head while driving — I’m not there yet, but I practice regularly.)

Supposedly I should “tag” others but I don’t like the idea — people shouldn’t be forced to share. If you’re in some way influenced to share about yourself by reading this post, just let me know and I’ll link to it. There — that’s nicer.

Giving my fuel economy in rods per hogheads.

Thankfully Google does the conversion for you!

Here’s something I didn’t know until recently: Pharmaceutical companies rely heavily on horseshoe crab blood to ensure that their products are bacteria free.

Here’s some other interesting things I learned:

1) Their blood is pale yellow or white and turns blue when exposed to air.

2) A single crab can be worth $2,500 over its lifetime for periodic blood extraction.

3) Although kind of freaky looking, they’re completely harmless to humans.

4) Horseshoe crabs possess the rare ability to regrow lost limbs.

5) Although not yet an endangered creature, horseshoe crab populations are declining.

Here’s the Wikipedia article, a neat article on the medical uses, and a nice general information site.

There’s always so much to do. Every task that is completed falls into the category of “repeating event” that will simply have to be performed again as entropy sets in (cleaning, cooking, personal hygiene — such as it is, etc.) or “nice try” which was simply an imperfect and increasingly simplistic appearing attempt at a solution. To some extent you’re stuck with the repeating events and must simply hurry and do them well enough to at least stay in place like the Red Queen in Alice Through the Looking Glass. For everything else, there’s a sense of struggle to churn out something that’s really superior. You want the best and you constantly strive for it. But you make imperfect relationships, imperfect software applications, imperfect decisions. As time goes by you can review (if you’re depressed) the imperfections that trail behind you. The farther away ones are usually laughable, considering that at one time that was your best shot. The closer ones still seem reasonable but somewhat lacking. But of course as time goes by and they recede into the past as well you’ll start to chuckle at them too.

So are things really getting better? Is the stress of “getting better” actually creating better results? The problem seems to be that the perception of your abilities on a continuum slides backwards at the same rate at which progress occurs.  The more you learn and grow and “better yourself” the more you realize that you had previously overrated your knowledge, experience, and skills.

I don’t think this means that we shouldn’t try. But we should try to keep in mind that perfection is unattainable (here on Terra Firma at least) and if we’re humbled by looking at our mistakes from 1 or 5 or 10 years ago, then consider that 1 or 5 or 10 years from now we’ll likely be just as humbled looking back to what we’re doing or thinking or speaking (or writing in a blog) right now.

I know this isn’t much of an “essay” but it made for a cutesy title. I’m sure I’ll think better of the idea later.

Jonathan Edward (the famous preacher) had a sister that was apparently quite a difficult woman. A potential suitor came calling one day and had apparently not heard of her nature. Edward’s father attempted to talk him out of the idea. The suitor replied that he thought that she had received the grace of God so what difficulty would there be? The father’s reply:

“The grace of God will dwell where you or I cannot!”

I picked this up from Rev. Rayburn’s sermon on January 6, 2008. It’s not in print yet but should be available on www.faithtacoma.org before too long.

I’m very confused over economist’s handling of our current situation. On the one hand we have inflation and on the other we’re struggling with economic growth.

In order to avoid a recession (negative economic growth) the Fed is considering cutting interest rates now while Bush is planning an “economic stimulus plan”. So… cut rates which will cause more inflation and then print more money which will definitely cause more inflation. The end result seems like it will be out-of-control inflation regardless of real economic growth.

We have all the signs of “stagflation” seen in the 1970’s but this time instead of going through a “disinflationary” period, we’re planning to attempt to not worry about inflation and just worry about growth. But the problem is that while a “disinflationary” period would have certainly hurt and people would have lose their jobs, what we’re doing instead offers no long-term solace — at least none that I can see. Tackling inflation first would give us a solid base on which we could kickstart the economy (if we should kickstart it at all). I guess my rather un-academic feeling is that economic growth is good and necessary for the future but that inflation affects our already saved-up capital. If that’s the case it seems to make sense to control inflation before we worry about ever-increasing economic growth.

Please add your comments — I’m not much of an economist so I’m likely off the mark.

In Gentoo, “emerge” is the package manager (the tool used to install new applications and software on the system). You can type “emerge mozilla-firefox” to install the most recent Firefox release or “emerge ruby” to install the Ruby programming language.

Here’s a slightly unexpected result…Diane will like this…

Okay, so it doesn’t do anything, but it’s kind of funny.

I’ll tell thee everything I can:

There’s little to relate.

I saw an aged aged man,

A-sitting on a gate.

“Who are you, aged man?” I said,

“And how is it you live?”

And his answer trickled through my head,

Like water through a sieve.

He said “I look for butterflies

That sleep among the wheat:

I make them into mutton-pies,

And sell them in the street.

I sell them unto men,” he said,

“Who sail on stormy seas;

And that’s the way I get my bread —

A trifle, if you please.”

But I was thinking of a plan

To dye one’s whiskers green,

And always use so large a fan

That they could not be seen.

So, having no reply to give

To what the old man said,

I cried “Come, tell me how you live!”

And thumped him on the head.

His accents mild took up the tale:

He said “I go my ways,

And when I find a mountain-rill,

I set it in a blaze;

And thence they make a stuff they call

Rowlands’ Macassar-Oil –

Yet twopence-halfpenny is all

They give me for my toil.”

But I was thinking of a way

To feed oneself on batter,

And so go on from day to day

Getting a little fatter.

I shook him well from side to side,

Until his face was blue:

“Come, tell me how you live,” I cried,

“And what it is you do!”

He said “I hunt for haddocks” eyes

Among the heather bright,

And work them into waistcoat-buttons

In the silent night.

And these I do not sell for gold

Or coin of silvery shine,

But for a copper halfpenny,

And that will purchase nine.

“I sometimes dig for buttered rolls,

Or set limed twigs for crabs:

I sometimes search the grassy knolls

For wheels of Hansom-cabs.

And that’s the way” (he gave a wink)

“By which I get my wealth–

And very gladly will I drink

Your Honour’s noble health.”

I heard him then, for I had just

Completed my design

To keep the Menai bridge from rust

By boiling it in wine.

I thanked him much for telling me

The way he got his wealth,

But chiefly for his wish that he

Might drink my noble health.

And now, if e’er by chance I put

My fingers into glue,

Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot

Into a left-hand shoe,

Or if I drop upon my toe

A very heavy weight,

I weep, for it reminds me so

Of that old man I used to know–

Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow

Whose hair was whiter than the snow,

Whose face was very like a crow,

With eyes, like cinders, all aglow,

Who seemed distracted with his woe,

Who rocked his body to and fro,

And muttered mumblingly and low,

As if his mouth were full of dough,

Who snorted like a buffalo–

That summer evening long ago,

A-sitting on a gate.

-Lewis Carroll