I could make many comments on this:
Shop-local advocates say this is a critical juncture for American towns. The rise of discount mass-market merchandisers like Wal-Mart has siphoned shoppers away from mom-and-pop stores, forcing many to close and leading to the decay of downtowns across the country, they say.“There’s a danger we’ll pass a point of no return and lose that part of the fabric of American life,” said Stacy Mitchell, a senior researcher in Maine with the Institute for Local Self-Reliance, an organization focused on community-based economic development.
The one that comes to mind is how it shows just how incorrect the oft-repeated mantra that small towns preserve traditional values (and big cities erode them) is. Chains find it much easier to dominate small-town retail markets.
Reason is their model falls apart in the big cities. That model is based on erecting buildings with standardized designs on raw land at the edge of town (with big parking lots because there’s no alternative to driving there). Raw land at the “edge of town” is dozens of miles away from the inner city. Save for the occasional brownfields site that can be redeveloped, there’s simply no place to put big box stores in the city. All the room is taken, and the existing retail buildings were designed for mom-and-pop stores.
Sure, the big box stores get built at the edge but they mainly serve the suburbs; they fail to capture much of the inner-city market because their locations are simply too inconvenient for inner-city residents. And many of us don’t own the cars needed to drive out to them anyhow.
It’s not how the rich will get special treatment, though that is a problem of its own. The really worrying thing is alluded to in the second, not the first, part of the following paragraph (emphasis added):
The cost is likely to be about $80 a year per passenger — the amount charged in a test program at Orlando International Airport — and applicants would be required to submit 10 fingerprints and photographs of both eyes and pass a federal “security-threat assessment.”It’s easy to imagine a world where this test project is proclaimed a success and implemented widely. It’ll be announced that “thanks to economies of scale” the fees are being cut. Instead of hiring new personnel to process the express lanes, personnel will be directed away from the existing ones.
What is the logical consequence of waits getting longer while the price for avoiding them gets lower? One guess.
It will then be announced that “the market has spoken” and “in response to consumer demand” for express services, more personnel are being devoted to them so as “to serve customers better.” Also, “for convenience” the fees will cease to be billed separately and offered on a per-trip basis, billed as a ticket surcharge.
Eventually, the old-style checkpoints will vanish altogether. End result is a world where everyone who flies has to be fingerprinted and submit to intrusive background checks. In the words of Jello Biafra, “Shut up, be happy. The conveniences you demanded are now mandatory.”
Full article here.
I have arrived in Seattle for house-hunting and job orientation. The
current plan is to spend a week or two doing that, then return to
Portland to pack up and move my possessions. It’s a decision motivated in
part by the
It was forecast to be snowy and windy in Portland yesterday. Instead,
the low pressure center tracked north, the screaming cold easterly gorge
winds failed to materialize, it didn’t even snow on the hilltops (I rode
up and verified this), and the winds streamed through the passes in
Washington and made it snow in western Washington instead. Portland just
got lots of cold rain.
I was watching the in-train movie when the snow on the ground caught
my attention. I then divided my attention between the movie and the
postcard scenes outside of woods and fields, farms and towns, all under
a blanket of white. Cold fog hung over the ground and smoke curled up
from the chimneys. You’d never get this sense of seasons further south.
It was a continual irritant of mine when living in the Bay Area.
Yes, yes, I know: California isn’t all subtropical. I’m familiar with
some of the temperate parts of that state. In fact, they’re by and large
very nice places I wouldn’t mind living in. But the major
cities (where all the jobs exist) are all in the subtropical regions.
So as a practical matter, moving to California does mean
leaving a temperate climate.
And yes, I know most people would prefer to live in tropical or
subtropical climates. So what. Let them. I prefer to experience
the changing light levels, and scenery a temperate climate offers.
The best thing about this part of the world is that while it
does usually get cold and snowy each winter, it’s a fleeting
phenomenon. The rest of the winter is cool but not cold, usually in the
forties. Cool and dark to know it’s not definitely not summer but warm
enough so there’s green grass, moss, and ferns even in January. Even as
I type this, the temperature is in the forties outside. The snow here in
Seattle is all the green grass underneath. It will never get to the
stage of being dirty, drab, bleak, boring, and unwelcome.
Seattle’s King Street Station says a great deal about Seattle.
For openers, dysfunctional politics. It’s hands-down the ugliest train
station in the Pacific Northwest. It’s been a civic embarrassment for
decades. Yet it never got fixed.
Sure, there’s all sorts of reasons offered for this, such as complicated
negotiations with the railroad. News flash — all locally-funded
station renovations require such negotiations. Everyone else managed to
prioritize them to the point where the city and the railroad reached a
deal acceptable to both. Seattle’s station stayed in limbo for years,
while a new freeway and two new professional sports stadiums were built.
The local politicians had plenty of resources and time available — they
just decided to spend them on other projects.
Finally, the station is starting to get fixed up. Slowly. Most
likely because there “isn’t enough money” (translation: it’s not
important enough to the political establishment) to do it faster.
And now that some actual work has been done, a second revealing
non-verbal statement is made. The new men’s room has a beautiful
patterned hexagonal tile floor… and modern, aluminum-framed windows and
a low ceiling with recessed light fixtures. Make no mistake: they’re
definitely high-quality windows and light fixtures.
In other words, given the chance to do an authentic historical
restoration and do an inauthentic one that shows off one’s wealth and
trendiness, Seattle opted for the latter. Must appear like a
sophisticated big city, after all. (Make no mistake, however, the new
station that’s materializing is both much more pleasant and
more historically authentic than the butchered monstrosity that it’s
replacing.)
The irony is that a sophisticated big city would be just the sort of
place to do a painstakingly authentic restoration, and would have done
so already. Instead of following someone else’s trends, the truly
sophisticated places set them and leave the following to
lesser, more self-insecure places.
It’s precisely that sort of insecurity about not being a big,
first-class world city that caused the political establishment to wet
its pants in sheer horror over the possibility of sports teams leaving
because their stadium is (gasp!) over twenty years old. And the money
spent on those boondoggles is probably one reason why there there isn’t
enough to have fixed up King Street Station already.
I quit.
I’ve been intensively looking for a place to live for a week.
I’ve lowered my standards.
I’ve upped my budget.
And I’ve managed to locate nothing that I’d feel good about
signing a lease on. Even if I go way over my budget, all I get is more
square footage (that I don’t need) or lots of yuppie amenities like a
pool, an exercise room, a concierge, a parking space, etc. (that I don’t
want).
There’s a few things in progress still percolating through the system,
but other than that, I quit. No more effort at finding something I
can call “home.”
Snooty white settlers and travelers in Africa coined a phrase “Africa
Wins Again” or just AWA for short. Robbed by bandits? Extorted by
corrupt officials? Held up by needless red tape? Roads washed out and
impassable? Peace treaty between warring factions just went down the
tubes? Africa wins again.
I say: Seattle wins again.
Street maintenance? Streets were awful when I lived here. They’ve just
gotten worse. Many asphalt side streets are as rough and potholed as
poorly-maintained gravel roads, with the result that on a bicycle your
speed is impaired and it takes much longer than it should to get places.
Seattle wins again.
Bicycle routes? No new signage since I lived here, trail pavement
getting worse, trail segments are actually getting closed
instead of new ones getting built. Following a bicycle route is a
challenge for those not intimately familiar with them. Seattle wins
again.
Waterfront streetcar? Closed, because the art museum and the transit
agency couldn’t coordinate the replacement of the car barn. Seattle wins
again.
Public spending? Nothing in the budget for street maintenance, but
plenty to be found whenever some capitalist wants the public to build a
stadium for his sports team. Seattle wins again.
Housing? Despite it’s size, it’s a city dominated by suburban supremacy.
If you can’t afford (or don’t desire) to buy a single-family detached
home, you’re relegated to living in the noisiest and most polluted
locations; they’re the only places new apartment construction has been
allowed for decades. There’s a horrible shortage (compared to any other
place I’ve lived) of multifamily housing in clean, quiet areas. Seattle
wins again.
Forget it. My most pessimistic thoughts were spot-on. There’s nothing
here for me except a career opportunity. Given I’m doomed to
hate whatever I spend my housing dollars on here, I think the best
approach is to spend as little as possible on something I hate.
Find a room in a shared house somewhere. Add the $500 or so cost for
that to the cost of my place in Portland and you have a number that’s
still within the range of rents for 1 bedroom apartments here (crummy
ones, since all available Seattle apartments are crummy). At
least I’ll have a nice place to spend weekends at, and I’ll save on the
moving costs when I leave Seattle, which will happen within two
years (I certainly plan on seeing to that).
Maybe I’ll be surprised and some of the few things in progress will pan
out. But pay careful attention to the start of the previous sentence:
I’ll be surprised. I certainly don’t expect it.
…And not surprising in the least.
That, of course, being the final (well, not quite, see below)
batch of apartments I looked at. It’s a testament to the correctness
of my decision to give up (at least for the time being) on finding
a home in Seattle that I find it amusing and not frustrating.
Because I’m free. I don’t have to choose which crummy property I sign
a lease on. I choose not to. I toured a passably nice boarding house
this evening. It costs as much to stay there as to rent an unfurnished
studio, but there’s no pesky lease to contend with and no need to bother
with moving any of my furniture up from Portland or put any of it in
storage.
Sure, it’s not a space I’d want to sign a lease on, but I’m not
signing a lease on it. If I come across something I like, I’m free
to walk away with no penalty. It costs about as much to do this while
holding on to my Portland condo as it would to rent a super-high-end one
bedroom apartment here. And that latter apartment would still probably
be on a noisy, smelly street I don’t want to live on. The guest house is
in a quieter locale.
Somewhat tellingly, the manager of that establishment said mine was
a familiar story; a lot of folks moving to Seattle get disgusted with
the poor quality of rental housing and decide to stay in her guest house
and wait out the search for the rare nice unit.
The
She gave me a bad impression before I ever met her. She almost never
returned her calls or got back to me as promised. (Why does this not inspire
confidence about being reachable when something needs repairing?)
She showed up a full half-hour late this afternoon.
The first building featured but a single closet, and a small one at
that. The bedroom was barely larger than a closet as well. The landlord
had thoughtfully installed electric baseboard heat so the tenants could
have the privilege of paying for heat, but had been too cheap to remove
the old steam radiators from the place. There was no water pressure at
all in the bathroom (I’m not making this up), and it was clear from
trying the faucets on the sink and tub (which from the looks of it had
their last major maintenance circa 1965) that they were broken. She lied
like a rug and claimed they “worked fine last week.” The hardwood
flooring was warped and damaged. On the way out she spouts some garbage
about the “three large closets” in the unit. I mention only seeing one.
With a straight face she points to a (small) built-in linen cabinet with
two doors, as if the cabinet space behind each door counts as a closet!
The second building actually featured working bathroom faucets… and a
broken medicine chest. Little Miss Slime went on about how wonderful and
in move-in condition the unit was. I noticed it was somewhat chilly
inside and no baseboard heaters were visible, making me wonder if Ms.
Slimy Slumlord was skimping on her gas or oil bill by not firing the
boiler enough. Unbelievably, this bedroom was even smaller than the
first. In fact, Ms. Slime here was actually breaking the law by calling
it a bedroom, as it had no closet whatsoever. Under virtually every
housing code I’m aware of, it’s illegal to rent a room as a “bedroom”
unless it has a closet. There isn’t a grandfather clause here, either —
one can see older buildings whose bedroom has obviously been retrofitted
with a closet to make it legal. But that would require spending money on
a building, something that’s obviously a foreign concept to Ms. Slime.
She then babbles on about how older buildings have smaller bedrooms.
Which is complete bullshit — my place in Portland is thirty years older
than that dump and my bedroom is twice the size that oversized closet
was. I resist the temptation to say (while in the bedroom) “Yes, this
is a large closet!” when she’s waxing eloquent about a
completely average hall closet in the front room.
Names will not being changed to protect the guilty here. In
case you’re wondering, the slumlords in question call themselves
“The Stratford Group, Ltd.” Be warned.
There’s one more apartment I may look at, a two-bedroom I have
an offer of a rent break on. It’s more space than I want (or need), but
I’d explore sharing it. I’d lose the rent break if and when I did, but
then the savings of splitting costs would kick in. It just turns out
that via Craigslist I’ve managed to locate a straight vegan (which is
important; I’m not thrilled about the smell of charred flesh in my home)
couple who might be interested in sharing with me.
Otherwise, there’s always the guest house. Pursuing that option while
holding on to the Portland place would give me an incentive to use it as
a weekend getaway and maintain ties down there. Either option beats
signing a lease on the absolute crap I’ve so far had the displeasure of
looking at.
Yes, I’ve really run into all of these, sometimes multiple times. I’m
not making any of them up.
I just thought of this when trying to deal with warning messages while
translating a stand-alone program into a callable class.
It would be really neat if there was something called a weak exception.
Weak exceptions can be raised and caught like normal exceptions, with
two important differences:
It’s almost a classic. The cab didn’t come when I called it this
morning, so I had to call again, and it came late that time. One of
my hosts was on the verge of driving me to the station when it
finally arrived.
So quite naturally, after all that drama, the train is unexpectedly
delayed. Yes, unexpectedly. While it’s not unusual for Amtrak to be
many hours late, such delays are almost always the result of things
that happen en route. The trains usually leave their starting
point on time. Seattle being the starting point for this train, I naturally
assumed it would be on time.
Wrong. First there’s mechanical problems in a car, then they have to
add another car to the train to handle extra passengers getting on
at Olympia. Given that their reservations system should have made them
aware of the latter need well in advance, there’s simply no excuse for
this latest delay.
Anyhow, here I sit in the station. At least there’s nothing that I
definitively have to be in Portland for at a fixed time.
On the way up to Seattle from Portland, there was snow on the ground
between about Centralia and Olympia. No snow today, but ever since going
through the tunnel under Point Defiance, there’s been a fog bank to the
south. We entered it around Nisqually, and as we neared Olympia everything
became covered in hoarfrost, which is probably the prettiest winter
weather phenomenon (can’t call it a form of precipitation) of them all.
Temperatures have been colder than normal the past two weeks, with many
nights of hard frosts and freezing fogs. Several recent mornings on the
way to work in Seattle, I had to ride carefully because of numerous frosty
patches on the pavement.
Despite being further south, Portland is often colder than Seattle in the
winter, both as a function of it being inland and away from salt water,
and as one of being on the west end of a sea-level passage through the
Cascades.
As the train left Kelso, I noticed the bare branches of cottonwood trees
waving in an east wind. Then I observed that the ponds in the wetlands
along the Columbia River were either frozen over or on their way there.
The icy gorge wind was obviously blowing.
Uh-oh… isn’t a storm supposed to be coming in pretty soon? Indeed one
is, and a winter storm warning for freezing rain has already been
issued.
I have to be here Monday to attend to some business. I was planning on
leaving Monday, but I may have to stick around. If the ice storm hits,
it’s going to be almost impossible to get a cab to the train station.
Blatant racism and classism are alive and well in New Orleans.
FEMA emergency funds are going to be spent to not only repair
the Superdome, but to spiff it up for the benefit of the sports
teams that play in it,
and not to repair or enhance any infrastructure
to enable the structure to serve as an emergency shelter.
Because, of course, it’s far more of an emergency to the system when
rich capitalist sports team owners don’t have the business facility
of their dreams than when the poor die in hurricanes for lack of proper
shelter.
Which all begs the question asked by
this banner.
Last night, it was still a question whether or not the ice storm would happen.
This morning, the east wind had increased. The day dawned sunny, but the
sun did not warm things up; instead, the wind intensified and got colder.
Warning Number One. A band of clouds appeared on the southern horizon,
spreading across the sky. They had the color of winter storm clouds. The sun
disappears behind the overcast and the temperature drops another notch.
Warning Number Two, and it’s no longer a maybe. It will
happen; the only question is how major an event it’s going to be, and some
inner knowledge (most likely, experience gained from past storms) tells me
it’s probably going to not be a minor storm.
Within two hours, the first showers of sleet were falling. It’s not even
dark, and the pavements outside are already whitening with ice. The storm
is upon us.
Well, that didn’t last long… the sleet, that is. It quickly changed… to
snow.
That means the layer of cold air is much thicker than forecast, because
both sleet and freezing rain imply it’s above freezing aloft. Snow
implies contrary. That means there’s more cold air than the weather
forecasters thought, it’s still getting stronger and not weaker, and so
it’ll probably take longer than they thought for it to get cleared away
by the marine air.
And the immediate result of the cold air layer getting cleared away
will be for things to get more treacherous, as sleet and freezing rain
are on the way as the cold air gradually gets eroded from above.
Oh well. I have no control whatsoever over it all, so might as well
enjoy it. Just took a delightful walk in Washington Park as the snow
sifted down, making a light hissing sound as the flakes filtered
down through the trees and hit last summer’s dried leaves on the forest
floor.
In the wee hours of the morning I awoke to the sound of water running
off the roofs. Instead of the expected freezing rain, the temperature
had risen into the mid thirties and a cold drizzle was falling. The day
dawned with plenty of slush, but no ice. So here I am at the train
station, leaving on time after all.
I’m here an hour early because any amount
of snow or ice messes up transportation incredibly here. Even though the
streets are mostly clear, it wouldn’t have surprised me if it was very
difficult to get a cab. I thought that suspicion would be borne out when
I waited listening to a tape that played “your call is very important
to us” over and over. I was about to hang up when a dispatcher answered.
Imagine my surprise when the cab rolled up only a few minutes later.
This,
that is. Anyone who describes himself as an anti-imperialist and promises
to make life hell for the biggest imperialist in the world can’t be half
bad in my book.
Even though it is, in the final analysis, simply a battle won and not a struggle
won. The seats of power tend to corrupt whomever happens to sit in them. But
that hardly means it matters not who sits in them; some occupants enter with
idealistic motives while others have no compunction about engaging in gross
servility to power, and furthermore some have arms that are more easily twisted
by pressure from below than others.
I wonder how the Establishment media in this country is going to spin it.
If it’s true that Morales won an outright majority, it presents the extremely
inconvenient fact that a leftist just won the most decisive electoral mandate
in the history of that country. Bolivia being a relatively small and obscure
place, I’ll wager a guess that the reaction will be to basically ignore
the news.
Ignoring it just makes it all the easier to later insinuate how Morales
is yet another Castro-like dictator in the making, after all.
Well, nearly a month. In Seattle, that is.
I still haven’t found acceptable housing. That’s no real surprise
after the first two futile weeks. Enough folks told me that it would
be a hopeless cause until the new year that I really didn’t expect to
have found anything by now.
Considering that, I haven’t done too bad in the search. I have a lead on
something that sounds very nice (top floor, hardwood flooring, gas heat
and range, Capitol Hill neighborhood, under $900/month). I’ve looked at
and turned down two units that could definitely have done in a pinch
(one because it was further than I’d like from a natural foods co-op,
the other because it was deficient in closet space).
It is still amazing how consistently sleazy Seattle landlords are.
That’s not to say that all of them impress me as sleazy, just
that most of them do. Sleaze is definitely the rule rather than
the exception here. I’m no longer surprised when I encounter it; quite
contrary: I expect it, and am surprised when I don’t
encounter it.
As for the job, it’s a job. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how
unacceptably full-time employment dominates one’s life. The silver
lining in it all is that I have spent far less time in wage slavery than
most adults my age. I’d prefer to have accomplished it by working about
20 hours a week. That’s not been possible, but I have managed to have
several long gaps in my employment. Some (such as my most recent one)
longer than I’d like, in fact.
I’m still in the process of getting settled in at work, but after I do
that I really need to start poking around in the code that drives the
site. What I’m doing is unusual enough that it’ll be hard to find my next
job; I really need to focus on getting more experience coding.
Or maybe not. Seattle is the home of the University of Washington, which
has a very good biology department. The plant world has been a long-time
interest of mine. Maybe it could actually hold my attention in a way
computers can’t. Then again, maybe not. And I really have a
huge reluctance to getting involved in any formalized educational system
ever again.
I’ve just about gotten used to living with all of Seattle’s
dysfunctional aspects (the traffic, the inadequate mass transit, the
worst street maintenance this side of Mogadishu, etc.). Yet those aspects are all still
there, I know it, and I don’t have a terribly big desire to spend the
rest of my life experiencing it, So I doubt if I’ll be staying in
Seattle super long-term. It’s one reason I’m focusing on renting housing
here instead of buying it.
On the other hand, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to grass pollen
season in Portland. So, as much as I love so many aspects about the
place, I doubt I’ll be moving back anytime soon. I’m holding on to my
condo there mainly because I want to keep a significant chunk if my net
worth invested in real estate as a hedge against inflation.
My vision at this point is to figure out a way to earn a living either
on the coast (either in northernmost California, Oregon, or Washington)
or in one of the mid-sized cities in the interior of western Washington
(i,e. Olympia, Tacoma, or Bellingham).
[Note:
this entry essentially replicates a section of
my SCN home page.]
Tony Blair, that mendacious lapdog of imperialism, wants to censor some
memos
written by an
ex-ambassador with a sense of conscience
posted to
Uzbekistan.
So I’ve mirrored a
copy
on my SCN home page and adjusted the meta tag search keywords accordingly.
There’s nothing particularly new or original in
this piece
by Holly Sklar. So why bother linking to it?
Simple. As timeworn and recycled as many of the facts Ms. Sklar cites
are, they apparently have the potential to be fresh news to many.
There’s still amazingly many dupes out there who parrot lines like
“there was a time when unions were useful, but things have tilted so
much their way that they’re now obsolete.”
And it’s things like organized workers — i.e. pressure from below — that
will change things. And nothing else.
Any doubters should consider the
mansion
Bill Gates had built for himself. I’m sure it offers its owner some
very comfortable living conditions, but really now, at 40,000 square
feet and an estimated 97 million dollars cost, it’s highly doubtful
if it offers any additional comfort over a house a fraction the size
and cost.
It’s clear from the plans in the US News & World Report
link that most of it is concerned with entertaining guests. Actual
living quarters constitute only a fraction of the square footage. It’s
actually understandable — I don’t think any human’s mind could wrap
around a definition of “home” that’s so huge. The natural reaction is to
just use part of it as an actual home on a daily basis.
In other words, Gates could have quit accumulating wealth long ago and
suffered nothing in terms of material quality of life. Yet he persisted
earning income. Gates is an extreme example, of course, but one could
say the same about most of the wealthy: their continued pursuit of
wealth isn’t giving them additional material comfort.
Yet, like Gates, they persist. So clearly something else
must be motivating them other than a desire for personal comfort. I
suggest that something else is power: more wealth always
correlates with more power. The more money you control, the more power
you have in a market economy. The diminishing returns one gets with
material comfort never kick in.
So, back to the apparently damning facts mentioned in Ms. Sklar’s
article. From a pursuit-of-power standpoint, they’re irrelevant.
Capitalism, remember, is about the pursuit of individual goals
(power, mostly, as we have seen). To the powerful, it matters not if
that power comes from a tide that lifts all boats or a wave that sinks
the small ones. What matters is the accumulation of power over others.
And that’s being facilitated amply by the latter wave.
Pressure from below can change all that, if the pressure
includes direct questioning and attacks on the class system itself.
Perhaps it will, against the odds, eventually prove successful. Before
it does, or even if it doesn’t, it’ll provide the wealthy an entirely
new dynamic: either concede some power now or face the
certainty of losing all power in the future.
Anything less will basically be ignored and fail to effect significant change.
Today I bit the bullet and replaced my aging Pismo PowerBook with a
shiny new
15-inch G4 PowerBook.
I confess a certain feeling of guilt over this, as computers are
incredibly resource-intensive to manufacture yet really can’t be
considered full durable goods because of the speed at which they get
replaced. In many respects, I would have preferred to repair the old
system. Alas, it was getting increasingly unreliable (and every time I
fixed something, something else would break). Laptops seem to have a
shorter life expectancy than desktops as a result of everything being
engineered to the bleeding edge of miniaturization and low power
consumption.
I will say that it is very nice to have a screen with greater
than 1024 × 768 resolution, and the whole data transfer process made me
glad I’m a Mac user and not a Windoze luser. I was aware there was a way
to turn one Mac into a firewire disk client of another, but couldn’t
remember how. I gave up after a little googling and decided to instead
focus on installing the developer tools on the new system. I turn it on
and it asks me if I’m already a Mac user. I answer “yes,” both because
it’s true and because I want to skip a stupid interactive introduction
that tells me things I already know.
And then I proceed to get pleasantly surprised when the next question is
whether my old Mac has a firewire port, followed by an offer to use
firewire to transfer my data to the new machine.
Why is it not a surprise that the only package I’ve (so far) discovered
didn’t transfer seamlessly was — you guessed it — Microsoft Office. The
new laptop apparently came with a test drive version of Office
pre-installed. Clicking on a Word document caused that version to fire
up automagically. It then proceeds to pester me about purchasing a
non-crippled version of that package. Which of course I have no need to
do — I want to transfer the version I already have from my old machine
to the new one. In fact, I already have transferred it, it just
doesn’t work right.
Helpfully, the unwanted version of Office mentions on startup a “Remove
Office” application that can be used to make the test drive version go
away. I fire it up, expecting a clear choice between the unwanted test
drive version and the desired one I’ve already paid for. Instead, I get
an absolutely confusing choice between removing “Microsoft Office 2004
(including Test Drive)” and “Microsoft Office X (including Test Drive).”
And there’s no way to determine any additional information about which
version will zap the unwanted junk and which will zap what I just copied
over. And Murphy’s Law being what it is, I will choose the
wrong one. You can count on that. Charming, simply charming.
Thankfully, dragging the test drive version’s folder into the Trash seems
to have gotten rid of it.
I discovered this site
when looking for disassembly instructions for my old laptop. (I was hoping to
uncover a simple loose antenna connection and fix the dead-AirPort problem
myself. No such luck.) It's surprisingly comprehensive, and best of all
the instructions are offered at no charge.
Monthly Index for 2005 |
Index of Years
Fri Dec 02 17:28:27 PST 2005
A Train Station that Tells All
Fri Dec 09 18:01:47 PST 2005
Fuck Seattle
Sat Dec 10 20:21:06 PST 2005
Well… That Was Amusing
landslumlord who showed the units I looked at (she owned both
buildings) was so slimy that she practically oozed along, slug-like,
leaving a mucus trail behind her.
Wed Dec 14 10:10:52 PST 2005
A Sleazy Seattle Landlord Lexicon
Wed Dec 14 12:22:50 PST 2005
New Programming Language Feature: Weak Exceptions
In other words, consider the following Python code:
class IntegerException(Exception):
def __init__(self, message):
self.message = message
class WeakIntegerException(WeakException):
def __init__(self, message):
self.message = message
class SillyInteger:
def init(self, v):
self.value = v
def add(self, v):
if v == 0:
raise WeakIntegerException('This add will do nothing!')
self.value += v # This always gets executed.
def div(self, v)
if v == 0:
raise IntegerException('Thou shalt not divide by zero!')
elif v == 1:
raise WeakIntegerException('This division will do nothing!')
self.value /= v # This sometimes gets executed.
three = SillyInteger(3)
This will silently divide by one then abort execution with an uncaught
exception:
three.div(1)
three.div(0)
While this will emit some babble about doing nothing, then execution
will be aborted with an uncaught exception:
try:
three.div(1)
three.div(0)
except WeakIntegerException, e:
print 'Weak exception: ', e.message
Sat Dec 17 10:04:11 PST 2005
The Old Hurry Up and Wait
Sat Dec 17 12:46:45 PST 2005
Winter Wonderland Both Ways
Sat Dec 17 22:51:38 PST 2005
Brrr!
Sat Dec 17 23:38:31 PST 2005
An Outrage, but Hardly a Surprising One
Sun Dec 18 13:54:11 PST 2005
Not Fooling Around
Sun Dec 18 16:13:50 PST 2005
Really Not Fooling Around
Japanese pine in the snow. Click to enlarge.
Mon Dec 19 11:24:27 PST 2005
Well, That Was a Surprise
Mon Dec 19 11:31:07 PST 2005
Reason to Celebrate
Thu Dec 29 17:25:56 PST 2005
Update after a Month
Fri Dec 30 09:22:47 PST 2005
The Memos the UK Doesn’t Want You to Read
Fri Dec 30 09:31:47 PST 2005
Nothing New to Report
Fri Dec 30 19:30:47 PST 2005
New Toy
Sat Dec 31 08:53:50 PST 2005
Recommended DIY Site
Last updated: Tue Sep 13 16:14:09 PDT 2011