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Today, on mcsweeneys.net, a homerun from Mike Richardson-Bryan:

TAKE A BAG OF FERAL CATS TO WORK DAY—This one is a real stumper. Whatever the original purpose was, it surely must have been miscommunicated or misinterpreted somewhere along the line.

It set me to thinking. The logic behind “Take our Daughters/Children to Work Day” has always puzzled me, in that I can’t imagine inflicting my job on anyone I love, especially on an excitable small child or bored teenager. The rewards of a career in software are completely opaque to anyone who’s not already grown up, and by the time your children have grown up, taking them to work can only endanger them: they may be mistaken for interns.

Richardson-Bryan’s premise reminds me of a proposal I once drafted to bring a population of human-eating carnivores into the office. The idea is that we’re always approaching our merely professional problems as if they’re life-and-death, so being in constant danger of predation would ensure that we’d keep a realistic perspective. I never got around to sending that memo to HR, which is probably for the best, as we’re getting low on cubicle space anyway. A family of wolves would need at least two six-by-eights with a large doggy door between them. We’re out of doggy doors in the supply area, and I can’t see getting one into the Q2 budget at this point. Adult male saltwater crocodiles can grow to be sixteen feet long, so they’d be terribly uncomfortable in any cube. Also, we’d run out of salt. A very small tiger could probably live in the false ceiling, stalking the plenum spaces and pouncing onto unwary employees. My allergies, though, make me hesitant to recommend a feline. And hippopotami, though undeniably effective killers, are bad for office morale. As you can see, they’re always on the phone with their friends, eating hay and watching the clock.

Maybe wolves in Q4, or a salty in a conference room Q1 2007?

On 17 Nov 1993, the high-water-mark episode of Animaniacs aired. Called “Survey Ladies,” its premise was a Pynchonesque (Amazon.com, signin required), exhaustive mining of two ideas: bean-eating and George Wendt. “Do you eat beans? Would you like to see a new movie starring George Wendt? Would you like to eat beans with George Wendt? Would you like to see George Wendt eating beans in a movie? Do you eat beans at George Wendt movies? Would you like to see George Wendt in a bean-eating movie?” When I originally saw this episode, I couldn’t help but think to myself that yes, I would rather like to see George Wendt in a bean-eating movie. I might even eat some beans myself while watching a movie starring George Wendt eating beans.

So I had the TV on last night and on comes an episode of Cheers (#164, “What’s Up, Doc”, 30 Mar 1989). Rebecca and Woody have set up a contest where the object is guess the number of jellybeans in a jar, and Woody inadvertantly reveals the answer. Rebecca suggests adding more beans to the jar, but Norm (played by George Wendt), sitting at the bar, has already finished off the bag. Sadly, he has done so off-camera. Very sadly.

On the other hand, no George-Wendt-bean-eating is likely to live up to “George Wendt eating beans” as I have imagined it, so perhaps that’s merciful. Also, I had no beans to eat, and the disappointment of watching a Cheers episode featuring a bean-eating George Wendt in my beanless circumstance might have been more than I could bear.

You know, Mr. Newsom, you’re a lot better at this than those stiffs on the Mountain View council! They’re as boring as their web page. All right, ready? I’ll start the clock.

OK, you’re studying documents. You’re… studious? Concentrating? Oh, but you’re flirting with Kim, I see… you’re flirting? No, too serious. Maybe you’re pensive? Yeah! That was great! You were so pensive. OK, what’s my word?

No way. Mayor Newsom gets an easy one, and I get “posed” for my turn? I’m drawing again.

Since I have evidence that I am a talented futurologist, you should listen to my predictions about technology.

In a previous incarnation as an academic, I marvelled to the PI on my team that my (reasonably efficient) implementation of the machine-learning system we were working on had runtimes, on even moderately-sized datasets, in the week range. He told me that we’d be living almost our entire lives more than five years in the future, and it was reasonable to write software for the speedy computers of that era. As soon as I grasped this wisdom, I realized that I should also account for our interface color schemes, which would have to still be usable in the blue light that would characterize the future.

If I were allowed to photograph the inside of the colocation facility where are kept my employer’s servers, you’d see that the future is more of a purple color than a blue, but my futurological prowess is nonetheless demonstrated. So, what follows is a hot tip from the Only Accurate Technology Oracle(TM):

Continue reading ‘The Oracle speaketh’ »

C’mon, Mascot bear, tell us a joke. Please? Just one joke? OK, Mascot bear. You don’t have to get all touchy about it.

Spring feels early this year in Northern California. I took this picture of a Scoliopus bigelovii in Muir Woods, just north of San Francisco, on 15 Jan. It looks like an orchid - enough to take me in at a fence-enforced four-foot remove - but it’s actually a member of the Liliaceae (lily family). It’s not really germane to anything, just a pretty flower to look at. Look at the pretty flower! Look, damn you! Look!

Just a quick trackback test. Also, testing outgoing links.

I’m in the final stretch now. Making sure all the templates work, checking images, arranging content… it’s like the load screen on Katamari Damacy. With fewer bits scattered about, I hope. So - do you like Mascot bear? It is here to amuse you. If you are not amused, perhaps Mascot bear will tell jokes. I don’t rate it as likely, but we live in the future now, and many things are possible.