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Lessons From A Grand Parent
leashed un 2018-09-29 06:26:07

TRIPLET WARNING: The following content consists entirely of a single three-item ordered list. If you are contextually biased to skepticism towards three-item lists, please await the publication of the five-, seven-, and eleven-item Deluxe Editions before inquiring at your local wholesaler.

1. In The Beginning...

One of the earliest memories of my maternal grandmother involves advice
to her youngest grandson, at the time, who has having difficulty
concealing the fact that he didn't much enjoy not wearing diapers
anymore. If I recall correctly, although memories from such a past life
are notoriously unreliable, I had just been scolded for sulking about
for hours, accumulating unspeakable stockpiles of kidney stone
nucleation loci, not to mention stool samples that could give IKEA a run
for their fiat any season of the year.

"Just let it out, kid! Learn from your elders."

Well, she was a little more polite than that, but please indulge me and
use your God-given imagination like it was meant to me used. Curious
little cunt that I was at that age, I must've asked her what harm could
possibly come to me from putting off work that would eventually do
itself; and I rightfully expected her to have a good answer to this,
seeing as she was living off a pension from the service half of the
medical industry's frontest of offices.

"If you let that all bottle up inside you, circulatory kinematics will
hinder the flow of nutrients to your heart... and if that's a number two
you're holding in, you might be able to keep those cooking for days on
end, but sooner or later your stomach will hurt like shit."

3. ... and at the end.

One of my last memories of her places her in the geriatrium where she
spent some of the last weeks of her life. I'm quite sure she remembered
my visits and me, not to mention the familial parade that kept me
sitting around long past when she seemed to have forgotten them moments
later. She'd had physiological difficulties aplenty for decades and
survived them better than the best, but at this one moment she gave a
particular impression of not doing so for much longer (at least, not
unassisted). I could've sworn I heard my brother whisper to our father,
"I think she's dying", but he swore later that he thought she just
wanted to go to sleep already.

I'm not quite so politically motivated an editorializing recontextualist
as to suggest that my grandmother (who lived out her post-holocaust
adult life as the positive counterpart to Kesey's Ratched) taught me
that life is only sacred so long as it kicks to keep kicking, but at the
very least I learned to appreciate sensory precision.

2. Oh and that one time?

... when she interrupted my procrastination of yet another kind of work
that doth itself do. I must've been in those formative years better
known as the "almost preteen", and had school that morning (it was
tomorrow by then, although nobody had yet told the Sun). My main fear
was that she'd scold me for dicking about instead of sleeping, and my
excuses had indeed all been used up the day before when she'd seen me
finish my homework quite early.

In case your mind teetered on the brink of some proverbial gutter: at
that age, my idea of dicking about at that hour consisted of wondering
just why it was that the Microsoft stack deigned it so unnecessary to
respect login sessions when the computer was more or less prevented from
talking to its peers. This fledgling detective work was hampered by the
innumerable moralizations (many of them self-contradictory when followed
far enough) stemming from what I'd seen on the cover of a magazine
intended more for moms than dads:

            "SHOULD YOU SPY ON  YOUR    KIDS?"

Forgive me for posting this riddle's answer in such close proximity, but
in case you needed any help: not unless you enjoy heart attacks and
sleep paralysis so much that you'd like to have a new hell tailor-made
where you can experience both at once!

If your imagination isn't yet working at this point, insert Tab A into
slot B and press Back to continue.

My fears were unfounded: she was thrilled to see that her grandson was
not only playing around, but playing with office machinery that could
simulate quantum annealing of racial genetics faster than the ethics
ministry could convince me that a holocaust joke isn't quite
appropriate, not to mention wholly anachronistic because Hitler's Venus
Project would've needed at least five of those to takeoff real
quick. Her fears were probably more along the lines of me redecorating
the apartment with the use of excrement and matches, and evidently she
got the impression that I'd just found the old sliderule and was trying
to puzzle out what the less obvious scales computed... little did she
know that I'd found the abacus instead, and was taking baby steps
towards applied plumbing.

Whoops! I should've warned you about nonlinearities, although if you've ever seen a sliderule, you probably saw this one coming: I preemptively forfeit my chance to bid upon the chalice of history in deferrence of the claim made by that greatest of liars (save only Baudolino): the historian formally attributed as `Harq al-Ada'.

"oh. you have a blog"
leashed un 2018-09-28 14:56:52
14:41:11    adlai | it could be quite stable, at the right pressure
14:41:16    adlai | you need to go back to thermodynamics class!
14:41:51    adlai | start with equilibrium thermodynamics. once you're good
                    on that, fluctuations; then bounce your way up from there.
14:42:01 fogobogo | the right pressure being the mass of jupiter?
14:43:04 fogobogo | entropy. sucks all the fun out of it
14:43:36    adlai | if you like my stories, may i recommend a short one?
14:44:08 fogobogo | sure
14:44:15    adlai | http://adlai.uncommon-lisp.org:7421/tag/changa.html
14:44:28 fogobogo | oh. you have blog
14:44:37    adlai | 8k words, that's what... 8 hours reading, once you
                    dereference all the pointers? :)
14:45:06 fogobogo | Reflexive Interferometry in prose
14:45:34    adlai | ahh 8k is the bytecount, it's only 1.3k words

Perhaps it's time to state, for lack of having previously done so, what exactly this means:

  1. Nothing here is [yet, to my knowledge] notarized. That means I edit with extreme prejudice.
  2. I don't [yet, to my knowledge] exercise unambiguous control over anything worth controlling unambiguously: not your computer, not the one serving this content, and barely even the one(s) from which I cook it. Misinterpretations and disintermediations are the responsibility of those unfortunate enough to have responsibility thrust upon them, as I believe Churchill isn't around anymore to deny having said.
  3. If I wanted this to become a halfassed predecessor of the sort of arguments witnessed in the darkest recesses of Facebook, Reddit, and their ilk, I'd have included some infrastructure for leaving comments at the bottom of these posts. Since I haven't, I probably don't! I may someday add a 'guestbook', purely out of nostalgia, but only hold your breath if you're really good at that kind of sport.
  4. As for why I spend so much timeffort making haphazardly selected parts of my neverending [yet, to my knowledge] argument with myself browsable by the random passerby: "beyond the obvious financial motivation, it's exceedingly simple... because I can."

For the record, fogobogo, all that entropy is rather what made it any fun to begin with!

Ah, That Ol' Search for French Ghosts...
leashed un 2018-09-25 09:51:03

These are some notes recovered from an old pad by the name of "Google Keep"; since I trust those ramparts about as much as beer farts, let's back up to an even more mysterious cloud!

  • 2016-04-10 untitled so tree

    sirocco rpt
    autocorrupt
    
    the phone alone falls only from the throne
    how now plow cow?

how about a nice game of AlphaDrama (a game for one humanity (autocorrupt: bullshitter))?

I'd play with myself, but I don't yet know the rules of theoretical play well enough to sing a solo songalong

  • 2016-04-10 Digital Fortress

This is what you should never build yourself; the day you become wealthy enough to need one, you hire the best opsec guy in your network to build it not-for-but-with you. Building it yourself is a challenging exercise, worth your time for the lessons you'll get, but should never be regarded as battle-ready tech.

The fortress consists of maximally inspectable hardware, and double-compiled software. The fortress contains no key loggers, and all packets are sniffed before exit.

Such beautiful silence, at the hour you could only choose as twelve... confirming what before you only thought you knew: this task was for an elf! But you let prosody get your betters, and fell again from the highest cliffs. Aah well, life isn't all buts nor ifs.

  • 2016-04-11 Enter Archman

Daunted by the full scope of the task ahead, once it'd finally hit him, he inhaled slowly, nostrils hugging tight to his septum till they nearly made one fleshy mass, then fluttering apart as he whistled out his newly-relaxed surprise: "Coo!"

The most difficult part of predictive authorship lies in determining, before the words have been etched, into which (whinceth?) medium - a question spanning memory, security, audience, prestige, self-image... the works.

  • 2016-04-20 Gallows Stall

there's a wondrous adolescent joy about calling just to hear a friend's voice; not a ring-wrong-ditch, but a brief chinwag, to hear the surprised joy on the other end, even catch a whiff of it yourself. That's a just use of the tech, playing on the social buttons of hearing familiar voices to elicit emotion... yet like any weapon, no degree of safety nor training can ever prevent it from one day swinging the wrong way, slamming shut on an innocent tail.

  • 2016-06-13 Burned Manuscript

This is not my story, I'm just the unfortunate wretch charged by fate, misfortune, to tell it, to beat the odds and bear the news of our victory. Setting out, unknowing the end, only the message received, the word to pass, of the victory achieved at Marathon.

This is not your flood, nor your blood. This is not your scene, nor your dream. It's a waking life, all day aware, never afraid, never too scared. This is the first day of the rest of your strife.

Virtuous machine learning: self-image deciding recognizing fraud detection for p2p makers. redefine spam!

  • 2018-09-25 Irony, Man!

Not a quarter after "Gallows Stall", this one dude hung himself in the shower using his clinic-issued pajamas as rope. Life finds a way - even one out.

Six Jokes Define A Cynic[al engineer]
leashed un 2018-09-21 00:00:00
  1. The Oldest Joke In The World

    PONGO: I'm having trouble meeting my creditors!
    BINGO: I say, dash it! To be precise,.: who wouldn't?
  2. The Blessed Joke In The World

    Historical note: the following joke has been heavily revised from the original version, which contained a punchline so wholly unamusing that it has repelled the Island of Stability even further away from me.

    Two blonde med students walk out of the biochem final.
    
    One says, "That damn final question!  What was he
    thinking, asking us to name the single most important
    element for the continuation of life as we know it,
    and justify our choice? Such a dumb question only
    Philosophers of Semiotics could get wrong."
    
    The other replies, "I know, right? It's obviously
    Phosphorous." The first stops, and finally speaks,
    quavering in fear: "What are you talking about?
    It's clearly that one metal, I keep forgetting
    its name.  Do you remember what's the ligand
    of methylcobolamine?"
    
    Ignoring her question, the dumb one blurts out:
    "Vitamins are important, sure, but wouldn't you
    agree that no energy transfers can occur without
    the near-equilibrium thermodynamics of driven
    fluctuations in those octokisdekaphosphomers?"
  3. The Most Expensive Joke To Not Get

    SATOSHI: Ya like DAGs?
    GAUTAMA: Ja sed also sprache posztifly towards Cat.
  4. The Most Obscure Joke In The World

    Q: What can you say about the special unitary samana squaredance?
    A: Don't get it sandy! (might be all we have to eat...)
  5. The Politest Joke I'll Ever Type

    ... with apologies to nobody in particular!

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