After arriving home and dismounting from my beloved bike, I stood in the snow for a good fifteen minutes trying to fiddle with my U-Lock, whose inside cylinder had somehow shifted into a position such that my key could not work. Unable to lock my bike, I dragged it up three flights of stairs into my apartment.
I wasn't done with the stubborn U-lock. I assaulted it with WD-40, but it was impenetrable to the attack. I feebly attempted to pick my lock with a hairpin. That also failed.
Recalling that it was supposedly possible to pick a certain kind of Kryptonite U-lock with a Bic pen, I took a Bic pen and fiddled around some more. When that didn't work, I actually watched the video on the Internet demonstrating how it was done. It turned out one is supposed to remove the cap from the Bic pen and then use the plastic casing to try to rotate the cylinder of the U-lock. I knew that my U-lock wasn't the right model to be picked with a Bic pen, but I tried anyway.
I tried removing the pen's cap with my fingernails - no luck. Next I tried to use scissors, then a knife, then part of my nail clippers. Then I tried unsucessfully with my teeth. Because I'd accidentally broken off the writing end of the Bic pen in my earlier attempt at picking my lock, ink was dripping all over. I haven't yet checked in the mirror if there are ink marks on my face, but that's not so important in the face of my unpickable U-lock.
Finally I took my hammer and gently hammered the pen, and the cap broke. I dislodged the remaining pieces of the cap with tweezers.
Progress at last!
Taking the plastic casing, I continued to fiddle with my lock off and on for half an hour. No success.
I had to stop myself.
This is silly. My hands are covered in ink. Normal human beings do not obsess like this. I'm supposed to be cooking dinner for myself, and here I am, with my hands covered in ink, trying to pick a broken U-lock that was bought in 1993, when I can go buy a new working lock down the street tomorrow morning, albeit at a hefty price.
So there you have it. The U-lock wins. I admit defeat, but at least I can put my groceries away and eat dinner.
Thursday, December 30, 2004
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
by invitation only
Gmail, a mail service offered by Google, and Orkut, a Friendster-like networking site connected to Google, are both currently "by invitation only." One can't sign up without having been invited by an acquaintance.
If the purpose were to limit the number of subscribers/ signees for the time being, that could be done without an "invitation only scheme." The site managers could simply cut off new subscriptions at the desired number.
So what is the reason for "by invitation only?"
At first I thought this was just a PR trick: if one makes it invitation only, people talk about it more and are more likely to sign up when they do get an invitation. I snatched up my (second) Gmail invitation instantly even though I have more e-mail accounts than I need and don't really need 1GB of space.
Another, non-excluding reason popped into my head when a friend of mine declined my offer to give her one of my Gmail invitations. Gmail didn't appeal to her because of Google's permenant archiving of all correspondence through the account and use of that information for marketing and possibly other purposes. Another benefit of Gmail and Orkut being "invitation only" was that the companies could gain another set of information: who's connected to whom.
Orkut and Friendster are already set up that way, although people "connected" on either of those are not necessarily acquaintances in real life. I am not suggesting that Gmail, Orkut and Friendster owners have the intention to exploit this information. Nonetheless, the opportunity for exploitation is real. In our PATRIOT Age of Ashcroft and Gonzales, I wouldn't be surprised if "law enforcement" exploited that information.
If the purpose were to limit the number of subscribers/ signees for the time being, that could be done without an "invitation only scheme." The site managers could simply cut off new subscriptions at the desired number.
So what is the reason for "by invitation only?"
At first I thought this was just a PR trick: if one makes it invitation only, people talk about it more and are more likely to sign up when they do get an invitation. I snatched up my (second) Gmail invitation instantly even though I have more e-mail accounts than I need and don't really need 1GB of space.
Another, non-excluding reason popped into my head when a friend of mine declined my offer to give her one of my Gmail invitations. Gmail didn't appeal to her because of Google's permenant archiving of all correspondence through the account and use of that information for marketing and possibly other purposes. Another benefit of Gmail and Orkut being "invitation only" was that the companies could gain another set of information: who's connected to whom.
Orkut and Friendster are already set up that way, although people "connected" on either of those are not necessarily acquaintances in real life. I am not suggesting that Gmail, Orkut and Friendster owners have the intention to exploit this information. Nonetheless, the opportunity for exploitation is real. In our PATRIOT Age of Ashcroft and Gonzales, I wouldn't be surprised if "law enforcement" exploited that information.
Monday, December 27, 2004
And thus saith the Lord:
Wives, be subordinate to your husbands. Husbands, love your wives.
As the reader spoke these words at Catholic mass on Sunday, I looked around at the other parishioners. Were the other women secretly horrified but outwardly accepting, as was I? Or did they actually accept it? I fantasized about muttering something out loud, or at least emanating a hissing sound at the "subordinate" talk. I might have enacted the fantasy were I not there with my grandmother. Were I not with my grandmother, I wouldn't have been attending Catholic mass in the first place anyway.
Catholic Planet laments the oft-neglected teachings of Christ on the roles of men and women. Reading these Bible passages on the Catholic Planet site, I pictured the men of ancient times inventing "Holy Scriptures" as another means of oppressing women.
"But it says so in the Bible. You've got to do as I say. If you don't, God will smite you. Also, if you wear pants, it will be an abomination in the Lord's eyes. As is two men sleeping together. An abomination, I say to thee!"
How to get rid of moths
UPDATE 6/11/05: Please see this post if you have a major moth infestation, rather than just a few moths, to take care of.
If moth is in mid-flight
1. Spray moth with Windex or other noxious liquid agent.
2. After moth has fallen to the floor, the moth may flail its wings and crawl around in an attempt to fly again, but do not take pity on it. Cover with soft paper (such as toilet paper) or other suitable material.
3. Squish moth.
4. Discard carcass and paper.
5. Clean any remaining noxious liquid agent/ moth parts from the floor.
Note to the environmentally-conscious: a powerful burst of water may work just as well to disrupt the moth's flight. This variant of the mid-flight moth-removal method has not yet been tested.
If moth is resting on a vertical surface
Method A:
Same as moth-in-mid-flight method.
Method B:
(more environmentally-friendly, but requires more skill)
1. Surprise moth by rapidly squishing moth against the wall using soft paper.
2. Discard carcass and paper.
3. Clean any moth residue from the vertical surface.
If moth is in mid-flight
1. Spray moth with Windex or other noxious liquid agent.
2. After moth has fallen to the floor, the moth may flail its wings and crawl around in an attempt to fly again, but do not take pity on it. Cover with soft paper (such as toilet paper) or other suitable material.
3. Squish moth.
4. Discard carcass and paper.
5. Clean any remaining noxious liquid agent/ moth parts from the floor.
Note to the environmentally-conscious: a powerful burst of water may work just as well to disrupt the moth's flight. This variant of the mid-flight moth-removal method has not yet been tested.
If moth is resting on a vertical surface
Method A:
Same as moth-in-mid-flight method.
Method B:
(more environmentally-friendly, but requires more skill)
1. Surprise moth by rapidly squishing moth against the wall using soft paper.
2. Discard carcass and paper.
3. Clean any moth residue from the vertical surface.
Friday, December 24, 2004
Night and Day
[fiction]
Julie Binon and Annie Albright were as different as night and day.
Julie "Mignon," as the French postdocs called her, was the most beautiful woman in the department. Her long blonde hair was naturally sleek and smooth, shining radiantly on a sunny day. Rather than caking her face in unnatural beauty products, Julie let the world see her natural beauty.
Her lips jutted out enticingly whenever she was about to say something, but changed her mind and didn't. Then she would gently bite her lower lip in hesitation, as if to tease someone with her beautiful straight teeth. When she was confused, her eyebrows arched in a quizzical slant. When she was engaged in an interesting conversation, her large eyes resembled that of a wonder-filled child. When Julie was tired, she would lean her head over to one side, revealing the graceful outline of her slender neck. Julie was the light of any social gathering. She never had to say anything - her magnetic smile and flirtatious giggles drew men and women alike from all corners of the room.
When it came to Julie Binon, one could not say truthfully that beauty was entirely subjective. Her beauty was fact as surely as the double helical structure of DNA was fact.
Annie, on the other hand, was lucky that grant applications didn't depend on how one looked physically. Her hair didn't have any interesting features - it was just straight and long. She didn't bother to style or color it, so it lacked hue or texture. Its natural color was a dull, almost whitish hue. Sometimes when it was a bright day, her hair seemed to reflect the sunlight in a weird way. Annie didn't wear makeup or make any efforts with her appearance. Her skin's flaws were plain for everyone to see on her face.
Her lips would protrude obtusively whenever she hesitated before saying something. Then she had a nasty habit of biting into her lower lip, as if to threaten people with a flash of her machine-like even teeth. If she didn't understand what someone said, her eyebrows would rake up in an unbecoming arch. Annie's child-like eyes popped wide and open, almost like a glare, whenever she was in the middle of a conversation that interested her. Annie often didn't get enough sleep, and she would come to work and sit with a bad posture, her head leaning to one side and exposing the skin of her too-skinny neck. In purely social settings, Annie found herself tongue-tied. Rather than saying something, she would just smile uncomfortably and emit sounds that didn't quite amount to laughter. People would turn their heads in annoyance no matter where they were in the room, look over at Annie, and shake their heads in contempt.
Annie Albright was the reason that the lay public thought of all scientists as ugly, cold-hearted machines intent on destroying humankind.
Annie Albright and Julie Binon were as different as night and day.
Julie Binon and Annie Albright were as different as night and day.
Julie "Mignon," as the French postdocs called her, was the most beautiful woman in the department. Her long blonde hair was naturally sleek and smooth, shining radiantly on a sunny day. Rather than caking her face in unnatural beauty products, Julie let the world see her natural beauty.
Her lips jutted out enticingly whenever she was about to say something, but changed her mind and didn't. Then she would gently bite her lower lip in hesitation, as if to tease someone with her beautiful straight teeth. When she was confused, her eyebrows arched in a quizzical slant. When she was engaged in an interesting conversation, her large eyes resembled that of a wonder-filled child. When Julie was tired, she would lean her head over to one side, revealing the graceful outline of her slender neck. Julie was the light of any social gathering. She never had to say anything - her magnetic smile and flirtatious giggles drew men and women alike from all corners of the room.
When it came to Julie Binon, one could not say truthfully that beauty was entirely subjective. Her beauty was fact as surely as the double helical structure of DNA was fact.
Annie, on the other hand, was lucky that grant applications didn't depend on how one looked physically. Her hair didn't have any interesting features - it was just straight and long. She didn't bother to style or color it, so it lacked hue or texture. Its natural color was a dull, almost whitish hue. Sometimes when it was a bright day, her hair seemed to reflect the sunlight in a weird way. Annie didn't wear makeup or make any efforts with her appearance. Her skin's flaws were plain for everyone to see on her face.
Her lips would protrude obtusively whenever she hesitated before saying something. Then she had a nasty habit of biting into her lower lip, as if to threaten people with a flash of her machine-like even teeth. If she didn't understand what someone said, her eyebrows would rake up in an unbecoming arch. Annie's child-like eyes popped wide and open, almost like a glare, whenever she was in the middle of a conversation that interested her. Annie often didn't get enough sleep, and she would come to work and sit with a bad posture, her head leaning to one side and exposing the skin of her too-skinny neck. In purely social settings, Annie found herself tongue-tied. Rather than saying something, she would just smile uncomfortably and emit sounds that didn't quite amount to laughter. People would turn their heads in annoyance no matter where they were in the room, look over at Annie, and shake their heads in contempt.
Annie Albright was the reason that the lay public thought of all scientists as ugly, cold-hearted machines intent on destroying humankind.
Annie Albright and Julie Binon were as different as night and day.
Sunday, December 19, 2004
I mope over you in protest
Right now I'm infatuated with A General Theory of Love by Thomas Lewis, Fari Amini, and Richard Lannon. This book covers the neurobiology of emotions at a lay-audience level.
After reading a section on how puppies and young rats respond to being taken away from their mothers (the protest response), I found comfort in the following passage:
They left out the web-stalking, but that sounds about right.
After reading a section on how puppies and young rats respond to being taken away from their mothers (the protest response), I found comfort in the following passage:
Human adults exhibit a protest response as much as any other mammal. Anyone who has been jilted in an infatuation (i.e., just about everybody) has experienced the protest phase firsthand - the inescapable inner restlessness, the powerful urge to contact the person ("just to talk"), mistaken glimpses of the lost figure everywhere (a seething combination of overly vigilant scanning and blind hope). All are part of protest. The drive to reestablish contact is sufficiently formidable that people often cannot resist it, even when they understand that the other person doesn't want anything to do with them. Human beings manifest searching and calling in lengthy letters, frantic phone calls, repeated e-mails, and telephoning an answering machine just to hear another's voice. The tormented letter that a rejected lover composes turns out to be an updated version of a baby rat's constant peep: the same song, in a slightly lower pitch.
They left out the web-stalking, but that sounds about right.
Sunday, December 05, 2004
Art Imitates Life #1
Veronica Mars, a UPN TV show, is about a young teen detective. In the next episode, Veronica's ex-boyfriend mysteriously wins the title of Class President. Veronica must investigate possible election fraud.
Hm... I wonder from where they borrowed that plot?
The question is, which story in life is this art imitating?
The Ukraine election, which Colin Powell quickly condemned as fraudulent, or the US election, on which he's remained silent?
American-style hypocrisy is coming to a nation near you!
Hm... I wonder from where they borrowed that plot?
The question is, which story in life is this art imitating?
The Ukraine election, which Colin Powell quickly condemned as fraudulent, or the US election, on which he's remained silent?
American-style hypocrisy is coming to a nation near you!
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
Don't mess with Henry Kissinger
[fiction]
Christopher Hitchens, known for his hard-hitting book examining Henry Kissinger's crimes against humanity, disappeared on September 11, 2001. Emerging from the ashes of the Twin Towers was a completely different man bearing the same name and same face. This new man is a staunch warhawk who antagonizes the work of people who, like the Christopher Hitchens of many years ago, are interested in peace and justice.
Conspiracy theorists have come up with wild stories involving an Evil Twin.
The truth is much simpler than that. Hitchens never had an Evil Twin, or any twin for that matter.
One morning, Hitchens was quietly sipping his coffee outside on the terrace by his apartment. The September air was crisp. He thought he heard a bird whistle, and looked up to whistle back.
The next thing he knew, he was bound, gagged, and in the back of a van. He was smuggled out of the country and taken to a secure location in Colombia, in an abandoned warehouse guarded by paramilitary groups funded by the CIA. It was there that a heavily drugged and unconscious Christopher Hitchens endured Total Personality Transplantation. The Christopher Hitchens the oppressed world came to know and love - and that Henry Kissinger came to despise - was taken away from us all. A completely new personality, based on Henry Kissinger, was transplanted into the body of this man.
When Christopher Hitchens next awoke, he was in his apartment bed. He didn't remember a thing, but retained his eloquence and love for writing.
Henry Kissinger had plotted this revenge for years. After Hitchens published "The Trial of Henry Kissinger," Kissinger colluded with the CIA to develop Total Personality Transplant Technology. After several $100 million in federal funding laundered through various National Institutes of Health programs, the technology was successful. Kissinger congratulated himself with a self-satisfied smirk as he gave the orders to kidnap Hitchens.
A simple person would have plotted to kill Hitchens. Kissinger is much wiser than that. For him, there was no richer revenge than to have the man who once denounced him going around pushing his own agenda, completely unaware of what happened.
Don't mess with Henry Kissinger.
Christopher Hitchens, known for his hard-hitting book examining Henry Kissinger's crimes against humanity, disappeared on September 11, 2001. Emerging from the ashes of the Twin Towers was a completely different man bearing the same name and same face. This new man is a staunch warhawk who antagonizes the work of people who, like the Christopher Hitchens of many years ago, are interested in peace and justice.
Conspiracy theorists have come up with wild stories involving an Evil Twin.
The truth is much simpler than that. Hitchens never had an Evil Twin, or any twin for that matter.
One morning, Hitchens was quietly sipping his coffee outside on the terrace by his apartment. The September air was crisp. He thought he heard a bird whistle, and looked up to whistle back.
The next thing he knew, he was bound, gagged, and in the back of a van. He was smuggled out of the country and taken to a secure location in Colombia, in an abandoned warehouse guarded by paramilitary groups funded by the CIA. It was there that a heavily drugged and unconscious Christopher Hitchens endured Total Personality Transplantation. The Christopher Hitchens the oppressed world came to know and love - and that Henry Kissinger came to despise - was taken away from us all. A completely new personality, based on Henry Kissinger, was transplanted into the body of this man.
When Christopher Hitchens next awoke, he was in his apartment bed. He didn't remember a thing, but retained his eloquence and love for writing.
Henry Kissinger had plotted this revenge for years. After Hitchens published "The Trial of Henry Kissinger," Kissinger colluded with the CIA to develop Total Personality Transplant Technology. After several $100 million in federal funding laundered through various National Institutes of Health programs, the technology was successful. Kissinger congratulated himself with a self-satisfied smirk as he gave the orders to kidnap Hitchens.
A simple person would have plotted to kill Hitchens. Kissinger is much wiser than that. For him, there was no richer revenge than to have the man who once denounced him going around pushing his own agenda, completely unaware of what happened.
Don't mess with Henry Kissinger.
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