Early to bed and early to rise...

Well, you know the rest.

I found all these stories before 5:30 in the am! I should do this more often.

Just some links.

My life is pretty stagnant these days. I am like a rock. Wait... damn.

Maybe my life is just stable, like a career in law. Wait... damn.

Maybe I'm just secure, like the code to a game I've been curious about. Wait... damn.

Oh well.

Worst spokesperson ever?

Good message, bad outfit. Such is life, I suppose.

Anyway, Happy 138th Anniversary of the launching of the Cutty Sark! And, y'know, whatever else you might celebrate today.

Ah, science.

Controlling your mind for a better tomorrow. Stories one, two, three and four tonight come to us from Slashdot, and, when taken collectively, add up to one perfectly reasonable and, at this point, inevitable conclusion:

You brain is about a decade away from being hacked. Fifteen years, tops. Get ready now.

Yes, the future is bright: Your brain, newly implanted with a direct neural interface that can carry a previously unimagined amount of information, will access wirelessly the Google network for new commands, which will be gently reinforced by our robot "accomplices". Since Google owns this site, they might not be happy about me spilling the beans about their plan. On the other hand, since Google owns this site, they know my readership, and probably don't care much about me.

Sometimes, it's good to be the invisible child.

Named.

So, I stumbled across an article describing how to name something after yourself. This, I thought, would be a great idea. I should totally have something named after me! Now, what should bear my last name? A law? A rule? Should I prefer a lemma? Or bow to popular pressure with a T-square distribution?

That article should really get into the specifics of what to do if your last name is already taken. But I suppose that would be surpassing the Arbesman limit.

Somebody called it!

So, I was listening to Car Talk a few months back, and the caller had, instead of a question, an idea. He had been driving down the highway, when he happened to drift over on to the rumble strips, which, by sheer coincidence, rumbled at the base tone of the song he was listening to on the radio. So naturally, he thought to himself, "Why don't they adjust the size of the rumble strips so that, as you are driving down them, you hear a little tune?"

Well, as with all things strange and beautiful, Japan has the answer. My only question: What is this going to do to Japanese tires?

One of those questions...

This seems like one of those questions that I like to ask and which pisses people off. Mind you, I don't ask just to piss people off; I'm genuinely concerned about the answer. In fact, people's negative reaction is detrimental to the whole process; the more pissed off someone is, the less likely I am to get any useful information. I am usually left with the phrase "well, but you know what I/they mean!" and an empty feeling in the depths of my soul.

So why do people get frustrated with me when I ask things like, "What does organic mean at the grocery store?" or "Why should you have to live in this city to work for its government?" (Should there be a second question mark after that second quote? Are these more of those kinds of questions?) The answer, as near as I can tell, comes (as I so love) in several parts. A: People think that they know the answer because they're used to the situation. B: Once actually asked about it, people realize they do not know the answer, or the one they made up isn't as satisfactory as they'd thought. C: They think that I know the answer, and am just asking the question to be an asshole. And finally, D: People really hate displaying their own ignorance, so they just stop being curious about anything so they can look smart when they know something, and dismiss what they don't understand.

I'm pretty sure I do the same thing, though (perhaps because of natural assholery) I can't think of any good examples off the top of my head. It does surprise me, though, that there aren't more Trivial Pursuit related shootings. That you hear of, anyway.

Good damn day.

So, as you may know, my job does not provide the intellectual stimulation and challenge of my previous employ (aka, "Locate vein, insert needle, do not kill anyone." To be fair, that last part was added to all the jobs at the hospital.) In order to combat soul-crushing ennui, I have started learning to program in Java. Today, I made a breakthrough in a game I'm making that will hopefully make the whole thing go much easier. I'm only one breakthrough away from getting the whole thing off the ground and into cyberspace. When that happens, I will be sure to direct you to this wonderful, wonderful game's home on the interwebs. Muy excellente.

Also, one of my webcomics suggested pick-up lines I might have to learn.

Also, medical freaks! (I know it's rude, but who doesn't love medical freaks?)

All in all, this has been a very good day!

Who's sailing the authorship?

Okay, that title is a godawful pun, and I apologize right off the bat for not being able to think of anything more clever.

Moving on, this story caught my eye, mostly because I wasn't aware it was supposed to be a story anymore. Book written, sold, anger ensued, suit ensued (see? I am capable of better puns!) and I thought that was it. But no, now we need a tally of everyone who felt cheated enough to go to the effort of getting their money back. What really interested me, though, was the ratio of dollars going to the lawyers who fought and lost the case to dollars going to the people who, according to the principles of justice and law, kind of won the case. (They won, incidentally, the right to return a book full-price, when they could've simply sold it for slightly less money online. Or, who knows? Maybe more money!) That ratio is pretty fucking big. More than 28 to 1. I checked.

So, to recap: a.) The lawyers for the publishing house did not win. b.) For every dollar these poor cheated readers received, the legal firm got 28 dollars. And change. Probably for coffee. c.) I left law school because of my grades, which were bad, which I thought would prevent me from having a successful legal career.

Clearly, I'm an idiot. Wish me luck on learning to program; it's fun to get frustrated at a machine that is so incredibly stupid, you have to literally tell it how to do everything. At least, if you're into my kind of fun, you perverted freak.