Segmentation Fault
Like a lot of people, I tend to partition my life into segments. There's the work segment, the personal family segment, the martial art segment, etc. Of course, a segment can be composed of subsegments; for instance, friends can be categorized as my wife's friends, my personal friends, or friends of both my wife and myself (usually other couples).
For the most part, the segments don't bleed into each other very much; in a sense, I lead multiple lives. My family and personal friends rarely cross into my professional life and my professional friendships rarely bleed over into my personal life. There are exceptions; my business partner is also a close personal friend of mine --but not of my wife. Not that my wife dislikes my partner; it's just that they rarely have cause to interact.
And, yes, I know there are those of you out there who are eager to demonstrate your wit over that last statement, but please, just save it.
If you think about it, it's amazing how strongly we compartmentalize our lives. We see the clerk at the convenience store almost every morning, but fail to recognize him when we meet him out of the context of the store. This situation can lead to some uncomfortable "Where do I know him from?" moments. I'm especially prone to this predicament because not only do I compartmentalize my life, but I also have a strong memory for faces but not for names; I am forever recognizing faces but not able to associate a name or context.
For myself, I find the blurring of compartments somewhat disconcerting. I find there is something uncomfortable about mixing associates and friends from different contexts. For this reason, I rarely go out after work with business associates or even attend company parties. Even if I go to lunch regularly with a coworker, I rarely associate with them outside of business. By the same token, I rarely lunch with my wife even though she and I are often available to lunch together. The idea of hosting an event for business associates at my house horrifies me with its absolute wrongness.
In computer science, we have an event called a segmentation fault that occurs when a software program attempts to use memory it is not allowed to access. At the risk of oversimplification (or overexplanation), when a program runs, a chunk (compartment, if you will) of memory is assigned to the process by the operating system. If the program/process attempts to access memory outside of that assigned compartment -- such as memory belonging to another process -- the operating system detects the unauthorized access and generates a segmentation fault, thereby shutting down the offending process and protecting other running processes.
That's how I feel.
Satire Defined
The Onion does it again. One of the funniest pieces of satire that I've read in quite a while.
Serendipity and Racism
I heard this joke many years ago, but last week I was reminded of it and told it to someone. Lo and behold, today I log onto my Google home page and was presented with the joke of the day.
How many racists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?None -- they don't want to be enlightened!
Please help…give what you can
I give this guy a 10 for originality. I'm glad he's not just using the cash to pay a ransom, but is instead wisely choosing to learn a life skill. Teach a man to fish versus giving a man a fish.Of course, the flip side of the sign probably says he needs the money for gas so that he can take his kid to the doctor.
10 types of people
An old geek joke says there are 10 types of people in the world.
Those that understand binary and those that don't.
The same can be said of this shirt.
BFF
Wishing to be friends is quick work, but friendship is a slow ripening fruit. ~Aristotle
Over the last couple of weeks, I have spent a few days with my lifelong best friend. First, he came to visit me and we spent a couple of days engaging in the manly pursuit of big game hunting (deer). Then, over the holidays, my family and I visited Eric and his wife, Barbara, at their home for a day, where we engaged in the manly pursuit (even though Barbara knows more about college football than most men) of watching college football.
It takes a long time to grow an old friend. ~John Leonard
Eric and I grew up into manhood together. We became good friends just out of high school and were best, hang-out-every-day friends for the next 10 years. Since then, we have lived in different states for the last 15 years, trying to visit each other a couple of times a year. Despite the geographical and chronological distances in our friendship, I know that with a single phone call and no questions, Eric would be at my doorstep to lend a helping hand. And he knows the same of me.
Friends are relatives you make for yourself. ~Eustache Deschamps
I suspect that at first we liked each other because of shared common interests or possibly shared traits that we like in ourselves. But, I wonder if friendships deepen when people begin to see traits in the other person that they wish they had themselves. In Eric's case, I've always admired his spontaneity and adaptability to change. Since I've known him, Eric has had multiple careers including machinist, sailor, high school teacher, salesman, real estate investor, hair stylist, camp counselor, and a few others I can't recall offhand.
Friendship... is not something you learn in school. But if you haven't learned the meaning of friendship, you really haven't learned anything. ~Muhammad Ali
In the long run though, I think true friendships are created when a casual friendship accrues a critical mass of shared experiences. Put another way, the shared experiences reinforce the friendship until they become a buttress making the friendship truly strong. To carry that analogy further, not only do the shared experiences buttress the friendship, but the friendship buttresses us against the stresses of life. Which leads me to one last friendship quote for a regular reader -- and you know who you are...
A good friend is cheaper than therapy. ~Author Unknown
Another Sign of the Apocalypse
My partner and I drove by a Sharper Image store today and, being the gadget geek that he is, he just had to stop and browse. As he remarked, Sharper Image is a chain built completely on products you will never need. Items such as the "rainproof" electronic meat fork with built-in thermometer. Or the lighted pepper grinder. And, not too far from the atomic clock that was 1.5 hours behind the correct time, was a true sign of the apocalypse. Of what possible use is a ropeless jump rope? If there's no rope, then it's not really a jump rope is it?
I guess this gimmick is for people who can't count jumping jacks.
Dickering
Last weekend at this time, I was at a friend's 40th birthday party getting my dose of yoostas.
At the party, the birthday boy's wife was telling a story and made the comment, "we all know that guys have to give up their brain when they get a penis."
I immediately responded, "Jan, it's a fair trade."
Marla
Marla Olmstead is a little girl who has taken the art world by storm; she has been hailed as a Picasso-type prodigy and also compared to Jackson Pollock. Her paintings have sold for tens of thousands of dollars. Marla began her painting career just before her 2nd birthday; she is now 6 years old.
When she was featured on 60 Minutes however, questions were raised about whether she actually did all the painting. A child psychologist, Ellen Winner, who has studied gifted children and specializes in visual arts studied the paintings and videos of Marla painting, has grave reservations about whether Marla is the artistic force behind the paintings. According to Winner, videos of Marla show an young girl painting in the manner of ordinary young children, essentially pushing the paint around, playing and experimenting with the paint. Prodigies exhibit a feverish "rage to master", working with an intense focus and drive. In addition, Winner says, “I have never seen a child prodigy paint in art abstractly. I’ve only seen them paint realistically or representationally. I have a drawing of Picasso at age 9. It shows that Picasso was struggling to draw realistically, and he was way ahead of his age."
So, who is the artist doing the paintings for which people are paying many thousands of dollars? Some people think it's her father, an amateur artist who is present when she paints. Her parents, of course, dispute the accusation. They say that while the father does help Marla by priming her canvases, she does all of the painting. The only help they provide Marla is love and encouragement. The 60 Minutes reporter says that while he has a hard time believing Marla created these paintings, he also believes her parents are good people and wouldn't use their little girl to deceive the world.
So which is it? Are Marla's parents horrible monsters using an innocent little girl to commit fraud on the art world? Or, in a "the nail that sticks up is the one that gets beaten down" scenario, is the world so coldly cynical that it cannot accept the explosion of a extraordinary talent in one so young? Either way, the situation is a somewhat sad commentary.
I know that the truth will eventually win out, and that I, for one, hope there is indeed a superlative new artist in the making.
Yoostas
I went to a friend's 40th birthday party this past weekend. Of course, everyone at the party was reminiscing and reflecting on middle age. Personally, I have found my years since 40 (all 5 of them) to be my best; for the most part, I have thoroughly enjoyed my forties. Even so, I heard myself and a lot of the people at the party show the symptoms of a bad case of the yoostas. You know what I'm talking about.
I yoosta:
- Throw a football over 60 yards.
- Bench press 315 pounds a few times.
- Recover from a strain or bad bruise in a couple of days.
- Never buy any type of liniment.
- Party all night.
- Play sandlot tackle football with no pads.
- Eat anything without considering the consequences. Indeed without having any consequences.
- Get out of bed without any aches or pains.
- Not have to trim ear and nose hairs.
- Attempt physical stunts with no thought of injury.
- Read fine print in dim light.
- Not really know what hemorrhoids were.
- Never reflect on what I yoosta do.
