Stupid Computer Tricks

In the late 1990s I had a static IP address, DSL, and my own domain. I got my email delivered to a PC running FreeBSD that I had built out of components I bought at Fry’s Electronics and which lived in my living room, right next to the other PC I’d built out of components and which I used for playing video games. The DSL modem was a little flaky (or maybe it was the line) and so from time to time, I’d have to turn it off and turn it on again in order to have actual connectivity to the world.

What’s the solution to a problem with shitty technology? More shitty technology! I got a switchable power supply with a serial port that I could plug into the server. I plugged the modem’s power cord into the power supply. I wrote a script (can’t remember now if it was a shell script or if there was a CPAN module to communicate with the power supply that meant it was easier to use Perl) that would attempt to ping Google and, if that failed, it would turn off the modem’s outlet and then turn it back on. I added a cron job that ran the script every five minutes. Problem solved, eh?

Today I saw a tweet where the poster confessed that they had a problem necessitating rebooting the wifi router. So they created an Alexa skill for “turn off the router” and another for “turn on the router” and how, whoops, Alexa can’t recognize and then do a thing if there’s no Internet.

Once again, I’m thinking that for all the horrors of the Bush/Clinton/Bush years, things were better last century.

It’s A Mess

Last night, apparently, there was an entertainment broadcast to the world – the first Trump – Biden debate of 2020. Surprising precisely no-one, the president said awful things and behaved badly. But that’s not what I’m thinking about, right now.

On my Twitter feed this morning, I saw lots of gasping and horror tweets from last night. And the other things I saw were people who didn’t spend the evening in front of the television talking about how they were doing okay, having spent time with their dogs, or made some dinner, or done other things that made them feel good about themselves.

And here’s the thing: all the moaning people were ones who were not actively engaged in self-care. Instead, they were watching TV. And what were they watching? Not a story that got them imagining a different world, nor a morality play that told them who they were. No, they were watching a parody of a conversation, in which no surprises occurred. If, on Saturday, you’d asked anyone (not a pundit, because they’re paid not to think) what would happen during the event, you’d have gotten a perfect run-down. And the moaning tweeters were saying that they were watching this event because it was somehow important to the functioning of the apparatus of government, or maybe the culture of the nation.

I think that’s wrong. I think that what really happened is, TV just got people to volunteer to suffer for hours rather than do something life-affirming like make delicious curry or play with their dogs. Sure, sure, the politicians are horrible, and some are way more horrible than others, and voting the bastard out is really important. But you know what else is important? You. You are important. Your sanity, your happiness, and your life are important. And you are more precious than TV. A moment of reflection will show you that TV doesn’t care about you at all; there is no good reason for you to care about it. It will not save you.

Turn off the idiot box. Starve the attention seekers. Take care of yourself.

Rebuilding – Signaling

I spent the day in Santa Cruz, yesterday. I had several errands to run, most of which were uninteresting, but one which turned out to be fascinating. Since I had to be in the area for a medical appointment, I thought that I’d drop by the arena, where a bunch of county departments and some disaster relief organizations have set up tables to be available to help folks affected by the fires. I hadn’t been by before, since we evacuated to our moms’ place and we weren’t in desperate need of anything. We have resources, and we wanted to let other folks with smaller margins get the help they needed. That visit to the arena has given me a lot to think about.

For starters, how about this: we have a builder already lined up, and he’s raring to go. He wants to get debris removed, a site survey done, and permits applied for so that when the rains stop and it’s time to start construction, he can get right to work. This is awesome! But we can’t start debris removal until the site has been cleared of hazardous materials. This makes sense — we don’t want to be dumping hazmat into the regular landfill. So who’s doing the hazmat clearing? The federal (not state) EPA. When will they do this? Well, they’re showing up this week, and they reckon they should have the whole county done in six to eight weeks. (Just in time for the rainy season to start.) Okay, but do I apply for my debris removal permit now? No, one must wait until the site has been cleared by the hazmat team before one may apply for a permit. Okay, how will I know that my site has been cleared? After all, it could be the first site cleared, or the last — do you want me to just keep asking you guys every day? Um.

And this is where signaling comes in. We know that the USEPA is going to be doing the hazardous debris removal, so they are the ones who will send some sort of signal that a property has been done, but we don’t know what that signal is, nor how we should be checking for it. Other than that they’ll post some kind of notice at the property to say that they’re done with it. One hopes that there will be a less onerous status check than driving 3 hours round trip every day to go look for a piece of paper.

Puzzlin’ Code

Okay, here’s some SwiftUI code:

Section(header: Text("Tip amount")) {
                // right now we are in a trailing closure
                    Picker("Tip percentage",  selection: $tipPercentage) {
                    // and now we are inside a second closure
                        ForEach(0 ..< tipPercentages.count) { // here, tipPercentages doesn't need to be prefixed by 'self.'
                        // and now we are inside a third closure
                            Text("\(self.tipPercentages[$0])%") // here, tipPercentages *does* need to be prefixed

Why, why, do I need to prefix tipPercentages with ‘self.‘ once we’re in the third closure but not inside the second or even the first? What’s magical about this situation? I know there’s something, but nobody is saying what.

Specify Your Dream

I keep wanting to be able to write native apps for my devices, and it keeps being true that I can’t wrap my brain around The Way You’re Supposed To Do It. I’ve taken Coursera and Udemy courses on iOS and macOS programming, and I’ve even shipped a couple of toy apps to the App Store, but when it comes to anything real, I find myself getting stuck because the way that the UI gets tied to the model is just so…tight.

This is absolutely not the way to write code for a web application. The whole gosh-darned point of writing a web application is that it’s skinnable, so that your business logic neither knows nor cares how it’s being displayed. I knew this in 1997, and it has only been reinforced by my experience since then.

So anyway, now I have to learn how to write non-skinnable software. It’s like it’s 1985 all over again, in my brain. And lemme tell you, this old guy has never wanted to go back and do high school over.

Okay, so this time I’m hoping it will stick. I’m doing the 100 Days of SwiftUI series from Paul Hudson. I’ve bought several of his books and found them really helpful in figuring out Swift, and I like his style. So, I am feeling pretty positive. But I’m going to go ahead and bring some of my own expertise to the table and on this, the first challenge day, spec out not only the challenge app (a unit converter) but the app that I should write for unit conversion.

Okay, so, first up: challenge. “Build a unit converter app”. The point of this application is to exercise the skills taught in the first demo. Picker, @State, Text, TextField, etc. Okay. Yawn, I’ll do it. But: I’ve already written (in Swift, but not SwiftUI) a unit converter that I would actually use: ThermoSlide. The point, here, is that if you have to select which unit to convert, then type in what value to convert, then select which unit to convert to, by the time you’ve done all that plus launched the app, the moment has passed. When, what’s really more likely is that your wife has set the display to Celsius but you can’t be bothered to learn another gosh darned system at this point in your life and you just want to know how (not) hot to make the car.

Right. So for challenge day of 100 Days of SwiftUI, I’m going to rewrite ThermoSlide as a SwiftUI application. Extra brownie points because I’m going to have to figure out how to make it a watch app at the same time, and while I’m at it I want to reorient the slider so it’s vertical, not horizontal.

San José, City of Murderous Douchebags

We went over the hill to visit the dentist today. Yesterday, the governor signed a law requiring people to wear masks in public. We took two of the dogs, because our hygienist appointments were an hour apart and there’s a park a couple of blocks from the dentist. You see where this is going?

It should read, “Douche Park.”
Full parking lot

The parking lot of the park was full. There were many people at the park. None of them were wearing masks. So, here in this affluent area, the attitude of the people seems to be, “Stay away from my breath or I will murder you.”

I know there are lots of people talking about society, but more than unrest in the streets (which at least speaks to collective action) this little walk demonstrated that there is no society. These people might as well be walking around with pistols, firing in all directions every time they exhale. That isn’t a society, it’s the opposite.

Not running.
The dogs walk faster
Nope, no mask

Rats Got the Baby

Last year, I gave in to the family, admitted that we live in the woods, on top of a mountain, and we have a persistent need to haul large volumes of stuff from there to here and back again. We bought a pickup truck. Problem is, we live in the woods, on top of a mountain, and the environment is very much interpenetrating our infrastructure. Because we drive the truck infrequently (that is, we don’t drive it every day), some rats decided the top of the engine block would make a great nesting spot. As well as filling every cranny with acorns, they chewed through one of the leads coming off the battery, which led to the truck’s computer (God bless it’s little silicon heart) to think that the battery wasn’t charging.

After a few adventures and phone calls, I finally found a place that would sell me a chunk of 16 gauge stranded wire (not Radio Shack, not Fry’s, not the hardware store, but the auto parts store — which probably says more about me and my expectations than it does about the state of electrical supplies and their availability) and I spliced the severed wire back into service. Wrapping it all up with electrical tape, which in our household is used principally to adjust the pitch of bagpipe chanters. So, for the first time in a few years, I’ve used electrical tape in an electrical context. That’s new!

Age of Corporations

In 2017, Charlie Stross talked about corporations as slow AI, and he identified some ways in which they have supplanted humans as first-class citizens.

I remember reading, as a teenager in the early 1980s, a story about a world where humans were not citizens of nations but employees of companies and the whole thing was some battle among the big three companies in the world. That meant that when I read Snow Crash the idea of burbclaves and the quasi autonomous states didn’t strike me as novel so much as just natural, in a hyper capitalist dystopia.

A recent Reset episode, “When Big Tech Calls 911,” talks about how the Tesla gigafactory in Reno uses lots of public infrastructure for workplace accidents (like, ambulance and fire dispatch, every day — to be fair, there are 7k employees at the one site, so it’s a 100% employed small town) yet it doesn’t pay for any of it (because of tax breaks to lure the company there). As well, it talks about Facebook and how they’re building out a bunch of housing in Menlo Park, which will, like, double the city’s population — so Facebook tried to get ahead of this by funding a big expansion of the city police near their campus. Which makes people feel a little weird, like, the company somehow owns the cops. The point being, though, that public services are usually funded by the public via taxes, and Facebook doesn’t pay enough taxes to Menlo Park to cover the infrastructure costs they incur. Because yeah, they’ll need police, but they’ll also need schools and roads and emergency services, won’t they? But police, they’re gonna fund that.

And there was some other podcast I was listening to (probably Make Me Smart) where it was mentioned that, hey, some of these big companies have yearly budgets bigger that those of a medium-sized country (which has been true for a long, long time and is news to nobody, I’m sure).

And yet. All of this still gets reported on as though it’s some kind of surprise to people.

Here’s the bottom line, my readers: corporations have no empathy. They do not care about human lives as such. They are economic sociopaths and they optimize for economic return, not for human welfare. They don’t like you.