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Portable Fiasco

A Ray Of Sunshine In Your Darkroom

Mysterious Mushrooms

Former Expert

Today I did a Google search to try and find help with some silly Windows programming problem I'm having at work. I was successful; I quickly found a 2005-era forum thread where posters were dicussing the same problem, trading possible solutions, talking at cross purposes, arguing, etc. Standard forum thread stuff.

One poster included a link to a Usenet discussion (archived on Google Groups) of the same problem, from way back in 1999.

That Usenet discussion contained a bunch of longer, more detailed posts. The thread starter in particular seemed to really know his stuff. His post contained a detailed, technical description of the cause of the problem, some sample code to demonstrate the problem, and a list of work-arounds. There was the usual argument in the thread about whether the issue was a bug in Windows or the result of an intentional decision by Microsoft. But the thread ended when a Microsoft engineer showed up and confirmed the problem was real but that for backwards compatibility reasons, it would not be fixed. Which is a really definitive, final and high-quality sort of answer for a forum thread question.

But something seemed familiar about this thread. I looked up at the top and sure enough, that first post was tagged with a very familiar name.

My name.

There was a time when I sort of knew what I was doing, far better than I do now. And at that time, I thought of myself as helpless, lost, and in over my head.

I'm still trying to figure out where that puts me now.

Drip

There's a leak in the roof at my office.

I removed a sopping-wet ceiling tile. The resulting gap in the ceiling is rimmed with dangling bits of toxic-looking insulation, but now the water can drip freely into a plastic wastebasket perched on the edge of my desk, instead of pooling precariously over my head somewhere.

Now there's a slow, steady drip drip drip as each huge droplet splashes down, causing my whole desk to vibrate slightly each time.

The leak began yesterday. Yesterday the landlord promised some handy person would be here today to remedy the situation. I can't imagine what sort of remedy could be offered -- it continues to rain steadily -- but that's a moot point, because no one has in fact appeared.

The landlord assured us, apropos of nothing, that he would be proceeding with long-promised plans to invest in our run-down building. That sounds like good news. The back steps are so rusty that I avoid them, afraid I'll break a leg (or worse) when they finally collapse. The roof leaks. The climate control systems are wheezing ancients that overheat and fill the building with acrid burning smells at random intervals. The walls are covered with peeling wallpaper that has been sloppily painted over. The building is a mess.

So what is the landlord's plan? He wants to repave the crumbling parking lot, of course.

That strikes me as patently insane, but maybe he's right, maybe that's more important from a business standpoint. We are so very devoted to our cars.

Zombies Don't Need Health Care

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If you feel like getting angry and frustrated, you could read the latest Matt Taibbi piece in Rolling Stone:

This isn't a small point: The president and the Democrats decided not to press for the only plan that makes sense for everyone, in order to preserve an industry that is not only cruel and stupid and dysfunctional, but through its rank inefficiency has necessitated the very reforms now being debated.

-- Sick and Wrong: How Washington is screwing up health care reform

Maybe you've heard stories about mind-control fungus that turn ants into fungus-reproduction machines, or zombie grasshoppers that do the bidding of their parasites.

Sometimes I feel that our republic is in a similar situation. Although it goes through some of the motions of a living, breathing republic, in fact it's incapable of doing anything that doesn't serve the purposes of the parasites that have taken over the controls. As if Uncle Sam is a bit player in Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

Cooking Culture

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On a commercial network, a program that actually inspired viewers to get off the couch and spend an hour cooking a meal would be a commercial disaster, for it would mean they were turning off the television to do something else. The ads on the Food Network, at least in prime time, strongly suggest its viewers do no such thing: the food-related ads hardly ever hawk kitchen appliances or ingredients (unless you count A.1. steak sauce) but rather push the usual supermarket cart of edible foodlike substances, including Manwich sloppy joe in a can, Special K protein shakes and Ore-Ida frozen French fries, along with fast-casual eateries like Olive Garden and Red Lobster.

Buying, not making, is what cooking shows are mostly now about...

-- Michael Pollan, Out of the Kitchen, Onto the Couch

A longish essay by the author of The Omnivore's Dilemma on how food functions as a part of modern American culture. Worth reading.

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