Pumpkin Spice!

It's September in the first year of my life (that I feel comfortable admitting to), and I feel great—the mounting success or arguably-not-yet-failure of my professional, intellectual, and—other goals is complemented splendidly by a muted but nonetheless genuine appreciation of the subset of nature's cyclic harmonies that I'm capable of perceiving: the air is getting slightly less warm, the sun is setting slightly earlier, and the hacks by which the retailers separate us from our money have changed completely.

In particular, the American coffee hegemon has started offering its "pumpkin spice" medicinals again, and my esteemed colleague Alexander Corwin has been blogging about drinking them despite/because hating them, so as a loyal client of the hegemon (measured by spending habits; the market gods only accept sacrifices of time and money, and don't care what you say or believe), of course I have to accompany him to the hegemon's outpost on fourth street that I go to frequently (typically bringing the personal cup I got at BABSCon, and the barista H. insists on giving me a brohoof every time), but the day before was no good, because Alexander apparently needed his sweetener/caffeine medicinal while I was busy pairing with our CEO on our new lead pipeline and bought his traditional Diet Coke instead.

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Worth

"I still feel bad about being the worst person at my job."

"You don’t mean worst person. People all have an equal intrinsic moral worth that has nothing to do with their economic role in society. You mean something more like, 'perhaps less skilled than some others at some job tasks'."

"No, that’s pretty much what I meant by worst person."

Growl

Dear reader, imagine you have an idea for a work of prose that you want to have finished by Election Day for reasons which will become clear later, and you're not sure how long it should end up being, but you think maybe around twelve thousand words. When considering what you can do to ensure that this feat will actually be accomplished, it occurs to you that you could start writing now. Or

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Convention

$ lein new 3lg2048
Project names must be valid Clojure symbols.
$ lein new Thirty-Three
Project names containing uppercase letters are not recommended 
and will be rejected by repositories like Clojars and Central. 
If you're truly unable to use a lowercase name, please set the 
LEIN_BREAK_CONVENTION environment variable and try again.
$ LEIN_BREAK_CONVENTION=1
$ lein new Thirty-Three
Project names containing uppercase letters are not recommended 
and will be rejected by repositories like Clojars and Central. 
If you're truly unable to use a lowercase name, please set the 
LEIN_BREAK_CONVENTION environment variable and try again.
$ export LEIN_BREAK_CONVENTION="fuck you"
$ lein new Thirty-Three

Don't Get Your Loyalty Trapped

Opportunity
Comes in the mail
Opportunity
Comes in the mornings and
Opportunity
Shows everyone
The futility of company loyalty
Get it out, get it out, get it out, get it out

Honest dealings doesn't mean you show your feelings
[...]

You said
"He was the phoniest"
I said
"You are erroneous"
You said (hey!)
"He never called you back
Check that you're out for the check (ye-eah)
Don't get your loyalty trapped
Don't get your loyalty trapped"

A Thanksgiving in June

Sitting on the green couch, eating cheese ravioli and sipping an allegedly peach-tea-flavored energy drink, admiring my brand-new wireless router and fresh installation of Xubuntu 14.04, I make a deliberate decision to drop to my knees in a song of praise which says, "God bless America!"—and if some not-yet-forgotten ghost or subroutine of intellectual integrity has me quickly disclaim that God is but a metaphor and America a metonym for concepts much less familar and perhaps slightly sinister, I don't think it makes the prayer any less heartfelt.

Where I Stand

(firmly on one side of the fine and yet distinctly perceptible line between "I've got mine; fuck you" and "I've got mine, and I hope that you get yours, but I'm far too ignorant of the relevant sciences to say which interventions would make this more or less likely")

Standard Advice

"So? What do you think I should do?"

"Hm. I think you should start with all computable universes weighted by simplicity, disregard the ones inconsistent with your experiences, and maximize expected utility over the rest."

"That's your answer to everything!"

Reasons for Seasons

I don't particularly care for Christianity, but my heart went out to the designer of the greeting card with a chocolate cross attached that was on sale at the corner drugstore. May His Light Shine Upon You, it said on the front, and Happy Easter inside, as if some foresight-burdened defender of the faith had reasoned, "We know we're powerless to stop the secular commercialization of our holy day, but maybe we can slow it down, just a bit."

A sentiment to remember for the day when your favorite ideology ends up on the wrong side of history.