Holey Dribble

For about a year I've been working on a computer program the mines the internet for data. I wrote it quickly about a year ago and it sucked! It was full of bugs, it was slow, and it was very hard for me to fix everything. So I rewrote it. I made it super-organized and did a huge amount of work to make it as fast as possible. The my computer hard drive died and I lost most of the code. So about a month ago I started writing version 3.0. I finished it on Sunday and I'm happy to report that I have it purposely running very slowly as I get the bugs out and it is processing 10,000 pages a day. I think it can do about 1 million pages a day at full tilt on the slow machine. I have another box that is much more powerful. I'm not sure what it can do there yet.

This is my latest art project. It made it from an old front brake rotor off of my motorcycle. The chain is the primary chain and is welded to the back of the disk. The center of the clock arms are significantly off-center. To accomodate this I made the numbers change in size to to fill in the space betweeen the inner circle defined by the clock hands and the outer circle defined by the rotor. Although it looks quite funky, the hour markers and numbers are actually in the exact correct place to tell the correct time.

Amazing but true...this is a pencil holder. Actually, you can use to hold anything you want. I had some wood left over from a picture frame that I made. Rather than throw it out I glued the scraps together in that check board pattern you see. After that I stared at the pieces for days and days. In the end this is what I produced. The base is made with stainless steel counter wieghted with brass.

I'm trying to post the items I've made recently in order of when I made them. This is a mirror the Kristen and I made for some friends. From the beginning I wanted to make something special. I'd made one other mirror (which is hanging in our entry way) so I knew a thing or two about how to do it. This time though I wanted everything to be as perfect as possible...even the dimensions. The dimensions are this mirror follow the Golden Ratio (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Golden_ratio). Ok, so that's not as easy as it sounds. Normally the corners of a frame are 45 degrees. That means the wood all the way around can be the same size and there are no worries. This created a problem though. If I made the angle 45 degrees then either the outside rectangle or the inside rectangle could be the Golden Ratio...but not both. So it took a bit of calculating but I was able to find the angle such that both the inside and the outside rectangles of the frame follow the Golden Ratio. Doing that forced me to made the sides thinner than the top and bottom. It was a huge pain to construct but I'm really glad I did it this way.
   This was one of the most enjoyable projects I've ever worked on.

I work in technology company. I recieve more than 150 emails every single day. I've also been recieveing about 5 from one individual that forwards me jokes. I decided to set them straight on a few issues. Here was my letter:
Ok, I've been waiting more than a year to tell you some information. I was hoping you'd have it out of your system by now but I think it time to just tell you the facts.

Fact #1: Most of these jokes have been around for decades.
Fact #2: E-mail has been around for decades.
Fact #3: Forwarding jokes has been around for decades.
Fact #4: Most people that have had email have heard these jokes several times.

It's important in this increasingly fast-paced world to not be too far behind the times. Otherwise you lose touch with the younger generations. With that in mind I'd like to give you a brief history of one small part of the internet.

My first email was sent in 1989. By 1993 nearly every technology company had inter-company email. Around 1997 email'ing was common for nearly everyone with a computer and modem. By 2000 just about every joke ever told had been see in everyone's in box several times. Around that same time the World Wide Web was in full swing and people were no longer getting their information from email, they were now going to favorite web sites. A couple years later blogging started to become very popular. By 2005 nearly everyone that had something to say, no matter how trivial (including jokes) was blogging. A couple years ago the next revolution in communication happened: Cell phones, texting, and Twitter.

That's where we are today. I listen to NPR every day and they routinely talk about someone "twittering" a comment or some recent fact, someone they mention someone's blog. Email is sometimes, but rarely mentioned.
Communication has fractured into several different 'modes' based on the type of communication you want to send or receive.

For private individuals
---------------
Email: personal communication only, no forwarding unless is really important. No mass mailing (it's considered spam).

Blog: Anything and everything you want to share. (Medium to long) However the standard is at least one paragraph of information. This does not have to be your own information.

Twitter: Anything and everything you want share. (Short) When you want to say one sentence or two.

The other key is the internet world is moving to an Opt-In model. Email is used less and less because it does not allow a person to Opt-in. Blogs and Twitter are both Opt-In. So if a person wants to hear what you have to say, they Opt-In. If they don't they don't.

In short, the forwarding of jokes is at least a decade behind the times. If you want to share those, put them on your blog.

A couple days ago I thought of a cool new product: A Sudoko Rubiks Cube. The principle is simple. Take six 3x3 Sudoku solutions and stuck them to the six faces of a Rubiks Cube. Done! The people that really want a challenge can mix it up and try to get all six faces to have a correct Sudoku solution.

There are number of problems with this idea:
1. It makes a puzzle that most people consider to be too hard even harder.
2. It was invented 4 years ago: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sudoku_Cube

Oh well.

I've decided to post some notes I took while on a motorcycle trip to New Orleans.

Day 1

I left Seattle before the sun came up on a overcast Saturday morning. It was the second week of February. I intended to get somewhere south of Sacramento before putting up for the night. However, I was immediately delayed by the need to run over to the eastside where I’d left my cell phone at work. I considered leaving without it as I’d never had an occasion where I needed it. But “better safe than sorry”, especially when riding a motorcycle over 3000 miles in the winter. The roads to the eastside were treacherous and terrifying. We’d gotten some snow the previous day. Overnight it had partially melted and then frozen again which coated the roads with a thin layer of ice. “This is not getting off to a good start”, I thought. Eventually I retrieved the cell phone and got back on the interstate.
Heading south on I-5 my only inconvenience was a light rain. It changed to a slightly heavy rain around Portland but I was making good time. Finally I made it past the Oregon, California border and stopped at a Denny’s for lunch. I was looking forward to Yreka and getting past this last mountain pass where I dreamed of blue skies and warmer weather the rest of the day. As I left Yreka the rain came again. I slowly turned to a heavy rain then into a gusty downpour. As I started to wind my way up the Mount Shasta pass the rain turned to sleet and then to snow. As the visibility dropped I slowed gradually to 35 so that I could see and drive in the ruts in the road. As my glassed froze over I had to wipe them but then they froze over on the inside and I was completely blind. So I continued by looking over the top as icy flakes stung my eyes. I passed three cars that had spun off the road. I continued up the mountain. My right eye decided it had had enough and refused to stay open. My left eye started fluttering from the cold and icy abuse I was giving it. Sighing I pulled off the road. I used the cell and a tow-truck took me back down to Weed, CA.

Day 2

Weed, Ca to Las Vegas, NV

Rain, rain, rain, heavy rain, really heavy rain, light rain... CA-NV border, no more rain.

The only notable incident of the day was along Hwy 93. There are long stetches where it's a two-lane road with a LOT of traffic driving very fast. It was a pitch-black night, no moon, and heavy on-coming traffic. Everyone appeared to be going about 90...either anxious to leave or anxious to arrive in Las Vegas. Far ahead I see many a car speed up to pass and then dart back into thier lane. I'm cruising along with no-one in front of me. Then I see it... looking far ahead I see a car heading my direction swing out into my lane in a futile attempt pass. It's obvious he's not going to make it. I swung over to the shoulder (hoping there was a shoulder) as he blows by me in my lane. It was not a heart pounding moment.

You see, I only had two options: smash into him and die instantly or drive on the shoulder and hope there are no obstuctions or junk to run into. When you choices are limited to only one then there is no time to consider the implications, no time to even respond emotionally. It just happens and you move on. No amount of skill can change the outcome. Either you live or you don't and there's nothing than can be done either way.

As I swung back into my lane I thought, "That's one, eight more lives to go." And I could see the lights of Vegas in the distance.

Day 3 - 0 miles. I layed around all day talking with my friend Robin.

Day 4 - Las Vegas to 150 Miles shy of El Paso, TX. Nice road, pleasant ride.
Day 5 - 150 Miles W of El Paso to Winnie, TX.
My strongest impression of Texas is the smell. When I first entered the state I saw and smelled miles of feedlots on both sides of I-10. After getting past El Paso the smell in the air went from cow shit to an oily refinery odor. I nievely thought there must be a refinery nearby. As I put hundreds of miles past me the oily refinery smell stayed. As I neared the gulf coast the oily air turned to a thicker oily-oceon air smell. It was not pleasant.

As I drove through Houstan I was wide-awake and knew that I could make it to Lousiana before stopping. For those of you that aren't following along on a map, that's about 800 miles so far. Nature though, had other plans. My beautiful clear road become enveloped in fog. The fog quickly became so thick I could only see about one car length in front of me. I used the tail lights of the car in front of me to help stay on the road. Often the waves of fog would completely obscure the road and the tail lights so I was driving blind. I decided I better exit and find a place to stop for the night. The fog got thicker. I switched to watching the white line on my right to keep from driving off the road. I didn't dare slow down too much for fear of being rear-ended. Sometime the fog would thicken even more and even the white line beside my tire was invisible.

Next thing I knew I was no longer on the interstate. What happened is the white line I was following took me off on an exit. I was driving so blind I had no idea I was no longer on the highway until I suddenly came to the intersection at the end of the off-ramp. I drove around in the dark and the fog for awhile hoping to see something to give me clue where I was, or better yet, a motel. Then I saw it, a neon sign barely visible through the fog. It said, "OTEL". I pulled in, walked in, noted the filth of the place, and rang the bell nailed to the counter in front of that barred desk. As I waited I saw a sign on the wall in back that said, "$200/week, ask about hourly rates." A guy came up and eyed me suspicously. I said, "I want a room for the night." He looked confused. He said, "For the night!?". I said, "Ya, for the night." He shrugged his shoulders charged me $20. The shower was very nice.

Day 6

Winnie, TX to New Orleans.

Backing up a bit I'd like to note that I saw only 3 highway patrol cars on my entire trip through Texas. In Lousiana I saw them every couple miles. Another thing is the condition of the roads. The Alaska Highway is in better condition than I-10 through Lousiana. I have to wonder where all the national interstate funding went in Lousiana. I appears that it went to buy more police cars.

As I left Texas the refinary smell went away and was replaced by a thick, boggy, moist petri-dish odor. I feels like the air is alive with little tiny creatures, and parts of creatures. It's a bit unnerving.

Mardi Gras: The French Quarter during Mardi Gras is like my mom's Gulash: a couple weeks left-overs thrown together in a pot and boiled. Unidentifiable gray, soggy chunks with splashes of equally unidentifiable colorful yet flavorless bits flowing together in a steamy, seathing moistness which takes more energy to consume than is provides. It left me hungry for real food.

Mom burned the soup again. The smoke and steam fill the kitchen while we eat. It is dinner, so that is what we have. We have the choice of one, the choice of a single option, the no-choice option that moves us from one day to the next. The soup smells like burnt plastic with a hint of charred something else…a vegetable of some sort? Tonight they are excited. I say “they” as we live a typical segregated household. Us is my brother and I, near the same age, subject to the same hardships. Them is my mother and Gerry, her current husband. Tonight some friends of Gerry’s are coming over. Gerry recommends them highly..a scary thought. They want to rent the house out back of our tiny plot of land.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Someone is smacking hard on the front screen door. Gerry’s friends have arrived. A man and a woman, both middle aged. Both look just like any ordinary working class couple. Like any ordinary, maybe a little worse for wear, maybe a little beaten down, maybe a little desperate, maybe a little untrustworthy, working class couple. As they step inside, exchanging pleasantries, the air is vaguely blurred with the smoke from burnt food. They don’t seem to notice. I watch as Gerry and Mom discuss the rental, the terms. Everyone seems happy. Hands are shook. The smell still hangs in the air, the acrid smell of dinner, of a bad no-choice meal. The next day, a big black truck, loaded with belongings, slowly and quietly drives up to unload.