I don’t know if any of you care, but I have opted to move to a self-hosted blog.
To me, the recent buyout of Tumblr by Yahoo kind of took away the cool hipsterish tone that Tumblr had.
If you guys care at all about what I have to say, my new blog is at
gebert.sexy. Yes, really.
I figured out how to make communism happen. We need to convince all the financial computer software engineers to use noSQL because of “scale” and speed and have them abandon relational databases and then eventually their shit will get fucked cause while…
I agree the queuing thing is slightly annoying, but that’s why you don’t use it for something where every transaction is really important. For example, something like Tumblr would work just fine for something like Mongo. If fifteen minutes of posts are deleted, that sucks, but that’s basically the end of that. For a banking application, I’d never consider using something like Mongo, because every transaction is very important.
I figured out how to make communism happen. We need to convince all the financial computer software engineers to use noSQL because of “scale” and speed and have them abandon relational databases and then eventually their shit will get fucked cause while MongoDB is fast as fuck and simple, it’s insecure and will make stuff break if they mess up.
MongoDB is insecure? I think that’s more of an implementation issue than an actual issue with Mongo. I’m not a huge fan of Mongo, but I haven’t really experienced the security issues you’re talking about. I mean, the same issues apply to nearly any database; with any data you don’t want public seeing, do a one-way cryptographic hash like a salted SHA-512 or Bcrypt or something. Adobe was using a SQL database, and they still managed to have security issues.
And “break stuff if they mess up”? Mongo is schemaless, that’s the whole fucking point of NoSQL; breaking stuff DOESN’T mess other shit up. When using something like Postgre or MySQL, it’s sort of a pain to do anything new, because you have to adjust the schema, which is kind of annoying, as if you mess up one aspect of the schema, shit tends to break.
Also, I find that Mongo isn’t really faster than Postgre from my experience. VANILLA Mongo is a bit faster since it keeps all the indexes in-memory and works by staging stuff to be written instead of directly writing it, but you can configure Postgre to do the same, and the performance will be almost exactly the same.
Sorry to be all bitchy here, just I do this stuff full-time, and it’s frustrating to see misinformation spreading about.
I mean, Jesus Christ. We get it, you don’t like sales, and you think it’s stupid to wait in line for sales. Somehow, it’s not stupid to wait in line for the latest iPhone, or to wait in line for a midnight release of a game console, but if people are waiting in line for a sale, OH THAT’S STUPID.
And yes, I’m aware that people have been trampled because of the madhouse with some of the sales. I also know people have been trampled at rock concerts, and yet no one who is bitching about Black Friday sales is talking about how horrible rock concerts are.
Shut the hell up, you holier-than-thou-tools and let me enjoy my new router.
Owen was sitting in his house, eating a particularly delicious batch of organic grapes, when he saw a red-suited man through his window.
“Monsanto!”, he cried. “They’ve finally found me!”.
He put the grapes in his pocket, paced around for a bit, and walked outside, shotgun in hand.
Slowly creeping, clutching the metal of the barrel in tightly, he sees the red man again, and proceeds to empty as much lead into his as he could.
“Try poisoning me now, you genetic bastards!”, he screamed, as he ran towards the body.
Alas, Owen had not killed Monsanto, or even a Monsanto representative. No, that’d make this a fairly short story, and would have little to do with Christmas.
Owen had killed Santa Claus, and the moment he realized this, a cold feeling dropped in his stomach. He knew that he had ruined the holiday for everyone, and that dark times would follow.
The latter part of that was confirmed when a dark demon dropped down from the sky.
“Thank you so much for awakening me, my boy. I was worried that that St. Nick asswipe was going to keep me trapped up there forever.” the black figure said, grinning with a sinister smile.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Santa was keeping me contained in a jail in heaven. For every present he delivered, it increased the strength of the walls keeping me held back from, you know, ruling over the world
“But thanks to your shotgunning him, Santa can’t hold me back anymore. Thank you, my pet.”
Owen felt terrible. Not only had he caused overarching chaos and possibly doomed the entire planet, but he had also realized he was out of bullets.
The demon descended away, presumably cause general destruction and un-merriment during the holiday season.
Owen realized he couldn’t stand for this, and suddenly noticed that Santa had left his sled, reindeer, and the bag of toys.
Owen, without wasting a second, hopped into the sled.
“Damnit, I don’t know the names of you reindeer. Whatever you guys are named, off with ya!”
This apparently was enough, and the reindeer started flying.
Owen wasn’t sure where the demon was heading, but he guessed it was where all the scum-and-filth-filled-demons live on earth: Wall Street.
They arrive in New York, and unsurprisingly, the demon is there, doing a bunch of evil, horrible demonly things. He slaughtered Christmas Carolers, he punched Salvation-Army-Santas, he tripped old ladies, and that was just the beginning if Owen didn’t do something.
Owen reached into the bag to find some ammunition, and found a small rocket launcher. I guess terrorists need Christmas too, he thought.
He fired several rounds into the demon, and like throwing popcorn at a toddler, it just bounced off.
“Ha! Do you think you can stop me with mere human weapons?! Really?! I’m a fucking demon!”
“Well then how the hell did Santa do it before?!” Owen screamed. It was a valid question.
“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know!”
Owen flew over the demon, where the demon swatted at him, which violently rocked the sleigh, causing Owen to fall over, and one of the grapes to fall out of his pocket, landing on the demon.
The demon screamed in agony. “Shit! Are these organic?!”
Seizing the opportunity, Owen subsequently started throwing all the remaining grapes at him, eventually causing the demon to descend back to heaven, presumably back to his jail from whence he came.
The day was saved, except Owen had no real idea how to go about delivering presents.
All of a sudden, someone appeared behind Owen. “I can take it from here, m’boy”.
It was Santa.
“Wait…I thought I killed you!”
“Owen, I’ve been alive for thousands of years fighting off a demon. Did you really think that a shotgun could have killed me”.
Owen shrugged. He made a good point.
“I merely was testing to see if you were worthy of a present this Christmas. You certainly lost points for the whole shotgun thing, but you broke even with the whole demon-killing thing. Let’s just call this a draw”
“Wait…So you’re not giving me a present”
“No, but I’m also not going to line your house with explosives like my initial plan.”
This seemed like a fair trade.
So remember this children: When you don’t get any presents for Christmas, don’t feel bad…Feel good that you weren’t violently murdered by Santa Claus.
But to all 44 of my followers, here’s a status update.
I lost my awesome job at a company called “Propulsion Labs” due to budget cuts. I’d like to continue pretending that’s the reason.
I am now employed for a slightly bigger, even-more-hipster company, and I actually rather like it. I’m programming Node.JS full time, and it’s introduced me to some really cool people.
That’s basically all I got. I’ll try to remember to update this again once I am sober.
I think I want to move to New Orleans for a bit. Why not?
You should. New Orleans is closish to Dallas…We could hang out every now and again.
I am trying to get better at the Scala language. If you guys want to contribute, here’s the Github.
I’m pretty drunk, and I feel like I should write something that’s been really concerning me in my drunken introspection.
If you are over the age of 14 and still use “u” instead of “you”, and similar such abbreviations, you are a blight on society.
Jesus Christ, I got a text message from Straight Talk telling me that “u need to renew ur sub. bc it’s going to expire soon”.
I honestly thought about going and cancelling my subscription right there.
If you’re a fourteen year old, I get trying to mess around and abbreviate. You’re young, you’re stupid, I get it, I did it too. But come on people, it’s not that hard to type two extra characters.
I know it might come as a shock to all of you, but I’m not really much of a ladies man. I don’t get dates, I don’t get pussy, hell, I haven’t even gotten laid really.
I got dumped for the first time two months ago. Personally, I’m not a huge fan of it; don’t get me wrong, I downright enjoy the person I love telling me she doesn’t want to see me anymore because of an outward display or slight animosity caused by being cancelled on for a fifth time in one week, but it just isn’t good for my health.
When I get sad, no one knows about it—let me amend that. When I get sad, no one knows I’m sad except a few friends who can’t escape the fate in which they’ve locked themselves into, the torment of having to be there to console me after the hundredth time I’ve messaged them, weeping at my computer, recalling every mistake I made in the course of this relationship.
And they listen, because they want to be good friends, and they offer advice, because they want to feel helpful, and they explain why being dumped is really a good thing, because in the end you’ll find someone better, and none of that means even one god damned thing. I’m going to be miserable no matter what they tell me and they’re going to hear it.
I did tell my coworkers about my newfound-singleness fairly soon after it happened. A week ago they said that I obviously wasnt too broken up about being dumped.
Apparently telling jokes is not the way to achieve compliment fishing, and they thought I was healed two days after it happened
It isn’t the pain that sucks about being dumped, though. Lot’s of things cause pain that no one gives a shit about. Hell, I was in more pain after a urinary tract infection than I was after being dumped.
For me at least, it’s the jealousy that has been depressing me. I see so many people who are stupid, selfish, greedy assholes (marketing people mainly) who don’t have a problem getting dates, who don’t have a problem getting laid, who are outgoing, and I’m not. And I don’t even want to match their success, I just want half, fuck, even a quarter or it.
And then I realize that I’m never going to have that.
People will call celebrities by ridiculous stage names that were made-up to sound more unique, but they refuse to call trans* people the names they have chosen to match their gender identity.
If you can call Nicole Polizzi by the name Snooki, then you can call a trans* person by their chosen name.
THIS IS A THING
I don’t have a problem with transgender people, but this logic is bullshit. No one that I know has a problem with the fact that these trans folks are changing their names. What annoys most people is that trans folks just automatically expect everyone to acknowledge that they are a different gender and not by at all mystified by it.
Again, I don’t have a problem with trans people, or calling them the gender they prefer, I’m just saying I think that this line of logic is stupid.
I just got dumped about a week ago. I’m not a fan. I would much prefer not to be dumped.
I went to Fry’s electronics recently, and heard a woman talking about how the Chromebook is “right for her”. I responded back with “Yeah, and I think a kick to the face is right for you too!”
So after I dispose of the body, I actually go and look at the Chromebooks. For the mobile-data model, you need to pay around five hundred bucks.
Keep in mind, you really *have* to pay for the mobile-data model, because you don’t really have offline access with the chromebooks.
For five hundred bucks, you have a PC less powerful than my phone (my phone is dual-core), with less memory (my phone has two gigs), less battery (my phone has about fifteen hours life), and have no offline functionality (my phone can play most apps offline).
Shit, my normal laptop with a quad-core CPU and six gigs of memory only cost five-hundred-fifty, AND, I can do this really cool and advanced thing called “editing text files” without being online.
Guys, don’t buy the Chromebooks. If you want a simplified computer, go buy a Kindle Fire or something. It’ll cost you about half, have a substantially better battery life, a substantially better CPU, and give you offline functionality.