From my Linked-In profile:
Blair Learn is diving into Java, J2EE, JBoss and other things starting with a J.
Category Archives: Assorted Ramblings
Ender's Game
Last week I re-read Ender’s Game. Excellent book, though I have trouble suspending my disbelief to the extent of buying in to the idea of kids under the age of 10 discussing such deep topics. I’m left assuming that Ender and his peers were the result of a program aimed at producing geniuses, but such is never actually stated. Despite this quibble, the book is all in all a most excellent read. (This would be a great opportunity to include a link to the extra copy I put on PaperBackSwap, but it was gone within 24 hours.)
The idea of Locke and Demosthenes makes some degree of sense within the context of the book, and I can sort of imagine a variation of Peter’s gambit playing out in the scope of today’s blogosphere. (There are after all a few “superstars” out there, but they’re mostly bloggers, not commenters.)
Through a fluke of excellent timing, I finished reading Ender’s Game on Monday and on Friday, XKCD had a strip based on one of Valentine’s and Peter’s discussions. (The squirrel in the strip fared much better than any of the ones in the book however.)
The Comment of the Beast
About five or six months ago, I was surprised to note that the number of comments on Dividing by Zero had reached the point where there were more comments than posts. I haven’t really been paying attention to the number of comments since then. Tonight though I just happened to take another glance at the numbers:
As of this evening, Dividing by Zero has received six hundred and sixty-six comments, 666.
So what was “The Comment of the Beast”? Well, it came in response to the post about The Eastern Setter when Luke wrote in to say, “when i die, i wanna come back as an Eastern Setter.”
It’s a sentiment I can certainly understand. Take a look through those photos and you’ll see that Wylie’s surrounded by a lot of pretty girls. He’s the neighborhood rock star after all and chicks dig the fuzzy guy.
It’s ironic that Luke should be the person who left comment #666 though. He’s in seminary and can tell you in far more detail than I can about how all dealings with the devil come with a great deal of peril. You might manage to get exactly what you asked for, but there’s always going to be a vital detail you didn’t think of.
In those photos, Wylie is getting his back skritched by pretty girls, and what guy wouldn’t like to be in that situation? But here’s the detail Luke overlooked: Wylie has been fixed.
Batteries not included.
My car’s check engine light came on again late last week. This time it was accompanied by the IMA light. IMA means “Integrated Motor Assist” or, translating from Honda to English, “The part that makes is a hybrid.”
I took it to the dealership this morning and they called me around 1:30 or so with the diagnosis. The battery needs to be replaced. Not the run-of-the-mill battery for starting the gas engine (that was replaced last fall). This time it’s the one located in the trunk, right behind the back seat, which provides the extra “oomph” when I’m accelerating.
Then I found out the cost. Around $4,000.
Ouch. (Have I mentioned that the car has 100,000 miles on it and is thus been out of warranty by 20,000?)
I don’t understand the details, but for whatever reason (possibly because they want people to buy their hybrid instead of the better known one from Toyota), Honda is going to give me the battery for half of what they paid for it, but that still comes in at $1,600 plus labor.
It’s not as bad as it might have been, but it was still enough to make me wonder whether getting a hybrid was really worthwhile after all.
Some quick back of the envelope numbers….
Assuming $2/gallon (definitely a lowball figure since Katrina hit in 2005), $1,600 would buy 800 gallons of gas. If a regular Civic gets 30 MPG, that would be enough to move it about 24,000 miles.
My car has been averaging about 46 MPG, so with 100,000 miles, I’ve used a little less than 2,200 gallons of gas over the past 6 years.
Using that same amount of gas, a regular civic would have only gone 66,000 miles. Add in the 24,000 miles worth of gas you could buy for the cost of the new battery and my car’s still ahead by 10,000 miles.
The oil changes cost more, but they’re less frequent than with a conventional engine, so we’ll call that part a wash.
The hybrid did cost more than a regular civic. I don’t recall the exact amount, but I remember that the various tax incentives (no state sales tax, $2,000 federal deduction) made a serious dent in it. (A dent in the cost please, not the car!!)
So I can’t be completely certain, but I think I came out ahead by at least enough to buy a celebratory dinner at McDonald’s.
Plus, I get a fairly huge number of geek points for buying a hybrid back in 2003, long before the gas prices went up.
So yeah, the hybrid wins. 🙂
Apathy
“You were sick, but now you’re well again, and there’s work to do.”
– Kilgore Trout
Yep, this is how it works.
Mr. Right.
I had a doctor’s appointment this past Thursday. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a routine checkup. During the course of things, the doctor asked me when I’d last had a tetanus shot.
I don’t like getting shots. They hurt, and things that hurt become things you avoid. This is why I didn’t play with the cigarette lighter in my parents’ car a second time.
So I briefly considered answering with a vagary about knowing I’d had a tetanus shot, but not being certain of the exact date. And since even if it has been a while, a doctor can’t compel you to take an injection, I also momentarily considered declining.
Tetanus is a infection of the central nervous system caused by bacteria entering through an open wound. The mechanism of infection which people most commonly talk about seems to be “stepping on a rusty nail,” but really, any injury resulting in an open wound will suffice.
Tetanus can lead to lockjaw, a condition which just sounds nasty. To the best of my knowledge, I’ve never run across a formal definition of the condition, but I’ve always imagined it to mean that you can’t open your mouth to eat, drink, or speak. And although my friends might appreciate a respite from my wisecracks, being unable to communicate always leaves me frustrated.
Of course I consented to the tetanus shot.
If you were to ask me what the most likely injection site would be for a given treatment, I’d almost certainly get it wrong.
About 16 years ago, I spent six months dating a girl who owned a cat. I’m allergic to cats. Or rather, I’m very allergic to cats. But I liked this girl, so I went to the doctor to see about getting my allergies treated. After a short consultation, the doctor said he would send a nurse in to give me an allergy shot and that would take care of the problem.
A few minutes later, the nurse came in. As I’ve said before, I’m not wild about shots, but I liked that girl. Plus, the nurse was a woman about my age, and not at all unattractive. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? So I rolled up my sleeve.
That’s when she explained that allergy shots don’t go in your arm. They go elsewhere and yes, I would have to lower my pants in the back.
I looked the nurse right in the eye and asked, “Does your mother know you do this?” Turns out her mother was also a nurse.
The girl with the cat broke up with me a month later.
I was a bit apprehensive about the tetanus shot. I was pretty sure the discomfort of the injection would be short-lived, but what I’ve failed to mention until now is that the doctor in question was not just a doctor, she was also a woman.
Luckily, before I could learn whether her mother was also a doctor, much less begin to lower anything, she explained that the tetanus shot would be injected into my upper arm (Whew!) and then asked if I had a preference which one.
I’m right-handed. I write with my right hand, pick up the phone with my right hand (and move it to the left in case I need to write something), and just generally use my right hand for quite a number of tasks. I’ve been known to go through an entire meal holding the fork with my left hand, but I mainly do that just to see who notices. (Did you know that most Americans repeatedly switch the fork between their two hands during a meal? This is an almost uniquely American trait.)
So the decision was to get the injection in the upper part of my left arm. The doctor warned me that it would be sore the next day, but the injection itself was about as painless as it could be.
When I woke on Friday morning, my upper left arm was a little sore. It wasn’t too bad though and really only bothered me when I reached for things. Getting ready to take Wylie out for his morning walk, I quickly realized I should use my right hand to get the leash out of the closet and that would be the end of my discomfort for the day.
Right.
Taking a shower before leaving for work, I reflexively reached for the shampoo using my left hand. Getting in the car, I used my left hand to put my lunch bag in the passenger seat. And over the course of the workday, I was frankly astonished by how often I was reaching up to get things out of the desk’s overhead compartment. A compartment which, as you’ve doubtless guessed, was to my left.
Z. and I were planning to go kayaking this morning, or as I call it, “Falling out of boats.” Z. says it’s pretty hard to fall out of a kayak and promised that if I did somehow manage to fall out, she wouldn’t laugh. Not much anyhow. (With all the styrofoam they pack into the bow and stern, it’s also supposed to be pretty hard to sink a canoe. But I’ve done it.)
We ended up canceling those plans because the weather forecast was calling for rain due to Hurricane Bill spinning Northward. If we hadn’t, the authorities would have needed to evacuate the area due to record rains causing even the high grounds to flood. Instead, it’s quite bright out.
It’s just as well though, my left arm is still sore and anytime I use it to reach for anything, I’m promptly reminded about the tetanus shot.
As a consequence of the tetanus shot, now more than ever, I don’t qualify to use “Lefty” as a nickname. So gather up your unattached female friends and let know: I’m Mr. Right.
Balance
The universe is made up of opposites. Complementary pairs.
- Every electron with a negative charge is matched by a proton with a positive one.
- Every sunrise has a sunset.
- Whatever goes up eventually comes back down.
- Every left has a right, particularly in New Jersey.*
- Every top has a matching bottom**.
In January, the furnace stopped working.
In August, it’s the air conditioner.
* In the case of socks, lost in the laundry doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.
** They might not be clean at the same time, but that’s balance too.
Chemistry
Pretty much everything I remember from my high school chemistry class can be summed up in two paragraphs:
An atom can’t have more than eight electrons at a single energy state. Sharing electrons (up to eight of them) is what allows groups of atoms to form molecules. Or maybe it’s only six electrons. That gives oxygen (which has eight of them) two “extras” that it can share with passing hydrogen atoms, thus allowing water to stay stuck together, so yeah, it’s probably six. (Either way, when you consider how long it’s been since that chemistry class, I’m amazed I remember that much detail.)
Also, if you plan to mix sodium and water, you should wear safety glasses. Ditto for mixing potassium and water. Oil and water don’t mix at all, but if you mix oil and vinegar you end up with salad dressing. (That’s what I’m told anyhow; I usually go for honey mustard instead.)
Getting By With A Little Help From My Friends
When you’re healthy, the idea of taking a day off sick seems like a lot of fun. Spend the day napping, no responsibilities, just relaxing and watching TV. But man, when you really are sick, there’s not a whole lot of relaxing going on and the responsibilities keep on coming.
Sunday morning was the start of Day 4 of the current illness and I wasn’t having a bit of fun. I was doing great at following the doctor’s instructions to get lots of sleep, but some responsibilities can’t be put off. The folks at work understood that they wouldn’t be seeing me for a while, but there really wasn’t a practical way to tell Wylie, “Sorry dude, no walks till I get better.” Instead, the walks got a lot shorter, but even then, it was taking me 45 minutes to recover from a walk that only took 10 minutes. On Sunday afternoon, AJ came by to pick up Wylie and take him to Camp Barkalot for a few days to play with Riley.
One bit of luck going into this mis-adventure was that the freezer was pretty full. The only catch is that the only comfort food (aka “stomach friendly”) in there was chicken. By Tuesday, I’d had chicken for dinner four nights in a row (the nights I could actually bear to eat dinner) and although there were some possible non-chicken dishes in the freezer, I’m still not sure my stomach was up for anything as exotic as tomato sauce, never mind broccoli or any sort of stir-fry. Tuesday evening, right at dinner time Z. stopped by with a piping hot roast beef au jus sandwich, accompanied by a side of fries and coleslaw. It was the best dinner I’ve had in a long time.
Living alone, I sometimes get to thinking about how there’s nobody around to pick up the slack if something goes wrong. And then there are times like this. At this very moment, AJ is conveniently failing to notice the croaking message on her answering machine asking when I can come over to retrieve Wylie.
I think someone’s got my back after all. 🙂
Thanks guys. And let me know when I can help you.