Benzer.Arkania.org

Are you a slave master?

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 01:33:27 CET

If you have bought a diamond you probably are. If you have accepted a diamond for your engagement, you most likely are. You are a slaver, a slave owner, a slayer of free humans. You are a scoundrel.

A Trail of diamonds.

Always, always, put in the effort to find out where the goods you buy come from. You don't want to be a passive Rimbaud.

Goodbye Google, Hello Google Searchmash

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 01:33:27 CET

I can tell when a company has been taken over by the Dark Side when the words "business" and "solutions" appear in the same sentence, consecutively, in their front page.

That, in addition to being nominated the top #1 preferred company for MBA graduates according to money.cnn.com.

But not all is lost. Since about a year now, someone at Google has provided access to the search engine in a neat, simple-as-always, business-junkies-free interface: searchmash. Rejoice.

The structure of the universe

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 01:33:27 CET



import pylab

from scipy import array



primes = [2, 3] # skipping 1 in purpose

max = 100000



def isPrime(a):

       for prime in primes:

        if 0 == a % prime:

            return False

    return True



k = 6 

while len(primes) < max:

    if isPrime(k-1):

        primes.append(k-1)

    if isPrime(k+1):

        primes.append(k+1)

    k+=6 # all primes but 1,2,3 are next to a multiple of six                                                                      



pylab.plot(array(primes), range(len(primes)), 'ro')

pylab.show()

Thinkpad T60p vs. Macbook Pro

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 01:33:27 CET

Some impressions. I've been the owner of a Thinkpad T60p for nearly 4 months now. It never booted it's poison OS, but rather, directly ubuntu 6.10 from the first day. Since a month ago it's running 7.04. So far so good, after polishing out the one and only annoying detail: the failure in sleep and resume. Now the laptop works as expected, so it's about time for a comparison with its twin, the macbook pro.

Let's start by saying that both the thinkpad and the macbook pro come with the same hardware features. A core2 duo 2.33 GHz processor; 2 Gb of DDR RAM, and a 120 Gb 5400 RPM hard drive. Screens are differently shaped, but about the same real state.

Over the last 4 years I was the owner of a PowerBook G4 1Ghz 15 inch screen. The machine was wonderful, and got finally as powerful as I wanted when, half way through its life, I installed YellowDog Linux and Kubuntu along with MacOSX. Packages in fink are always unupdated, and in the open source world that means they contain mostly broken programs, bug-ridden or featureless. Linux or a free BSD is a must for a proper laptop.

I mention this PowerBook G4 to set the base line standards I have grown used to. Like, instant sleep, and instant resume. And I mean instant, about a second at most. Long battery life (over 3 hours). There were also firewire 400 and USB 2.0 ports, plus a DVI output. And a beautiful, totally comfortable keyboard.

Now why in the world didn't I buy a macbook pro this year instead. A variety of reasons. First of all, what I do most on a computer is to write. A perfect keyboard is condition sine qua non for a laptop. The macbook pro has not only horribly texturized keys, but also a sharp edge that cuts through your wrists. Very undesirable.

In addition, the macbook series come with a built-in camera. Excuse me, I am mister paranoid. I do not want orwellian machines on my lap. What for most users is a free add-on, for me it's an invasion of privacy. I want a camera I can disconnect. And a piece of tape over it is not an option.

Furthermore, macbooks are very thin. This is a plus, most of the time. Unless you need two features: robustness, and a cold surface. Macbook pros bend beyond my safety ranges. But much worse, their undersurface gets horribly hot. And I mean, as hot as to injure your lap skin (there have been cases already). I used to put my G4 powerbook on my legs to stay warmed up in winter, and to cool it down with my blood flow while compiling large programs or rendering complex scenes. If I was to do that with a powerbook, I would smell roasted ants (burned keratin) all the time.

So the macbook pro, despite being an excellent machine on the inside and an excellently looking machine on the outside, it's unusable. Very bad keyboard and hand rest. Built-in spy camera. Burns your legs. Three reasons for a certain no.

What about the thinkpad T60p? I tried it out at UCLA's computer store, and then half-heartedly proceed to get one. Buying it was a horrible experience. Lenovo could be selling cars, or underwear, and one wouldn't notice. Ladies and gentlement at Lenovo, even web commerce has evolved (see frictionless interfaces explained). Please. But I could endure that much.

Price of a T60p comes at $34 more expensive than a macbook pro. Considering both are over $3000, the difference is negligible. Much better, for that price one gets an 8-cell battery. Adds a bit to weight -so it's no longer the superlight thinkpad, and oddly weight-imbalanced at that-, but also lets one squeeze out 4 hours of real use (manufacturer claims 8, but they always tell half truths) with a 256 Mb FireGL graphics card using imaging applications intensely (such as Blender).

Best of all, the thinkpad has a proper keyboard. Keys are not only soft, but also have a deep pleasant touch. The powerbook G4 still feels superior in touch though: it felt deep, and yet so sensitive (why throw away excellent technology?), but the thinkpad comes closest. The plus side: there is a full keyboard, with PrtSc, NumLk and Pause, and Insert/Delete, Home/End and Pgup/PgDn keys. I can finally use Inkscape properly. The down side: the ScrLk is retarded. One can't hold the Fn key and a numpad key, like in powerooks, but rather, Fn+NumLk and then the numeric pad key. Good enough, Blender has a numeric pad emulation feature precisely for crippled laptops.

And not just the keys are nice. The entire surface, although rather ugly looking, it's sweat resistant and ends in a smooth bended edge -there is no edge per se-, which makes excellent hand resting. The keyboard reaches excellence in comfort if one remaps the command keys -particularly placing the controls where the alts are, by the space bar; and an extra ESC on the useless CapsLk.

It is hilarious, though, that I have three mouse devices simultaneously active. The laptop has a clit-mouse and a touchpad with a scrolling side built-in, plus I usually plug in a supersensitive, ergonomic Logitech three-button mouse. All work at the same time under ubuntu linux. The touchpad comes with two ugly, squeaky buttons which, for all I care, could be obliterated. But such two buttons don't get in the way. How can such useless, obvious afterthought ahve ever made it to the latpop is beyond me, considering the excellent look and feel (and evident refined tradition) of the clit mouse buttons.

On the laptopiness of the T60p: despite having the same chip -core2 duo 2.33 Ghz- as the macbook pro, it does not get hot at all. One feels the warm air comming out from the left side, and that's it. Overall it feels very light too, despite the 8-cell battery.

A big downside is the absence of a firewire port. Since I owned macs in the past I have a couple of firewire-only devices -an old "brik" original ipod and a Lacie porsche's external firewire drive- which I can't plug in anymore. There is a PCI slot which I may use for that in the future, but it's not practical. Far worse, in this current world evolving towards DVI, there is only VGA output. These features, added to the deceivingly old-fashioned looks, make the T60p look emerged from a 90's design. The first words from my apartment mate, at the sight of my brand-new T60p, were: "but this is one of the old models, right?" Expect no coolness factor.

Finally, the T60p's screen. At 1400x1050, it's higher than that of a powerbook, which makes it excellent for reading. Specs say it's only 2/3 as bright as the new macbook pro's, but so far I have no complain -I actually dim it except when under direct light. A big plus is that the screen stands rock solid on two noiseless and elegant metal fringes, and closes with a locking device. Furthermore, there are no traces of keyboard markings on the screen, so typical of ibooks and powerbooks, and macbooks too. The only downside is that Xorg needs to be relaunched whenever one wants to connect an external screen (or, I haven't figured out yet how to tell the aticonfig to apply changes on the fly to Xorg).

The main reasons why I bought the thinkpad, besides the really bad downsides of the new macbook pros, are the keyboard and the mainstreamness. With the latter I mean, that most open source developers have a standard x86 laptop, and thus operating systems like OpenBSD and Linux distributions just work, at both 32-bit and 64-bit modes (I dual boot ubuntu 32- and 64-bit). The fingerprint reader with the bioapi just works, and so do all acpi-related (read, hardware related) buttons and events. All sorts of USB devices -from cameras to headsets and external keyboards- just work. In this regard, the laptop running ubuntu feels like an Apple machine; which is a form of praising.

And for completeness: both Thinkpads and macbooks stand at the same price for the same core features, and both have a 3-year buyable warranty. The thinkpad's warranty purchase is very confusing, but careful reading let's you find the proper one, priced like AppleCare's.

To sum up: don't be deceived by Lenovos' rather akward and superficially outfashioned laptop design. Much less by their shooting-in-their-own-foot web shop. The T60p works and feels great under my hands.

Solana Beach

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 01:33:27 CET

I know that I am not properly dressed when the ticket inspector in the train asks me if I really have a business class ticket. Why, traveling comfortably and traveling uncomfortably is only one Starbuck's muffin away. Which is to say Starbucks is a little overpriced, but that's a different story.

Right there, on the next set of four seats and a table, there is a girl. I saw her in the way towards mine -our table seats are offsetted by one row-, and I suspected she'd be interested in me. If anything, to check whether I was seating behind her, across the passway, just to observe her. Well I am not, but can't help to notice when someone twists backwards more than 90 degrees to catch a glimpse of me. Trains are like this.

Such a pleasure, again in motion in a train. This time from Solana Beach back to Los Angeles. What I came to do in the shouthern most part of California is none of your business. I want to talk about Solana Beach.

From my undisclosed destination -there, she did it again-, I took a taxi to the railway station. We made in just in time to see how the previous scheduled train left -it was late anyway-, and the next train was not to come. The cryptic legend of the timetables fooled me. Today it's not a weekend or a holiday. So the next train was 2 hours after that. Time to go hit the town.

As usual there is no town, just neighborhoods. But the beach, as the city name claims, was there, and sunny at that too. On my way to the beach -and there as well- I've spotted the highest concentration of blondes in their thirties I haven't seen in a very long time. Solana beach is, aparently, for young mothers whose husbands are busy elsewhere, supposedly making money. Isn't everyone, one way or another.

There was no scent of sun tan lotion -too early in the season for that, despite the warm breeze and striking Southern California sun. The girl keeps at it, playing contortionist. She is blonde by the way. I hope she doesn't get a neck pain. But the blondes, the beach. They were there with their little children. One knows money when one sees it. I saw it, hopping around.

The children, all women by the way -Solana just couldn't score higher-; one of them dressed in surfer fashion, in a expensive grey and red rubber suit. Great contrast with the flying long flocks of golden hair. The only non-beautiful children turned out to be from a couple that, eventually, left for their hotel (people speaks loud).

In the beach I looked for a calm corner. Down to the right, towards the setting sun, there was a balm of rock hovering over the beating waves. There were surfers on the latter, and sea gull droppings on the rock. But not too many of either. The salty smell was comforting. The rock was not really rock, but hard-pressed sand, coated with a sand and water layer that had kind of crystalized -so much salt, I insist. A very homy texture. I was raised by the sea, least you don't know.

The though of climbing the cliffs enclosing the little beach occurred to me. But there was no way. Let me turn down the graphic's card power state. We want this conversation to last my journey. So there, the suave cliffs, more like solidified dunes, were bare, orange, and unclimbable. So after caressing them for a while, enjoying their unusual texture, I turned my focus to the sun.

Sunset was getting at its peak. All over the horizon, particularly towards the north, there was a ray-traced brownish mantle. No kidding this is Los Angeles' smog. So many cars, so useless, if only they knew how comfortable it is to travel by train. Particularly in first class. With a blonde getting a neck ache. The light was so stunning I couldn't look for the sun's goddess companion, not just yet.

Sitting there on the sandy rock, the waves washing my bare feet, I reached for my all-time weather jacket. Warm and sun-lit by the see, splattered by salty drops. What else can a man ask of this world. When the coin dropped into the slot, I started the walk back up.

And here you find me, after tempura and sashimi and the chef's surprise dessert. Writing. Energized. I will come back.

LA transport: the nightmare

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 01:33:27 CET

Sometimes I try to explain why I don't like the city of Los Angeles (disclaimer: I live in Los Angeles). Here's another story. Yesterday I had reserved a taxi for 5:00 AM. The taxi never came. I called the company 3 times (5:12, 5:27, 5:42), and after 1 hour and 10 minutes (my train gone already), I was notified that "we are still trying". I called another taxi company. They started "trying" too. At that point, I went back in and woke up my apartment mates. One of them has a car.

In this city, in Los Angeles, somehow, everybody tries, but the service provided is never real.

Many restaurants are not real. There is a restaurant near Venice beach with signs claiming to be serving omelettes since 1928. And yet, when inside, one looks up and the ceiling doesn't connect with the walls, the latter just fake postings. Much worse, the food served is not real either. All omelettes are but plain omelettes wrapping the specific filling order as an afterthought. In less than five minutes, the order doesn't taste like anything in particular.

The houses are not real. While riding the Big Blue Bus across the city, one feels inside a movie backdrop. Just facades, paper-thin; walls so thin that it's hot in the Summer season (from May to September) and cold in the Winter season. Even houses in expensive neighborhoods look fake. Why the citizens
of Los Angeles are willing to push out a couple million dollars for such low quality buildings is beyond me.

Ok, it's sunny in Los Angeles. Or kind of. When landing, as the airplane goes down the city's permanent smog layer becomes evident. At some point, the horizon is split in two, the lower half an ugly brown. Like landing in a coffee cup.

Buses, least you don't know it, are the natural environment of crazy people. By which I mean people in need of medical assistance. While us normal people use the bus for transport, crazy people use it as medicine. All women, without exception, are harassed at some point. If young and sitting by the window, one can count the number of stops it'll take for a crazy nut to go sit next to her, and start chattering to her despite evident lack of response from the girl. Seldom ever more than one stop. Because in a bus, people is willing to trade off a little convenience for transport, instead of walking past the nutty.

The subway reaches very few destinations (overlapped with Paris RER, it'd be about as stretched as that, but with much fewer lines). I have been told that in the early XX century, Los Angeles had a nice surface train system -there are still old railroad chunks here and there, among the endless suburbia. Guess what happened: General Motors bought them and shut them down. Capitalism is good and all, but the free market won't ever be able to deliver for the common good. Los Angeles stands as an example in history.

The trains across California remind me of Laurence of Arabia. Most Californian railroads are not electrified. Instead, huge, gas-powered chunky metal trains provide service. The inside is ok, but as usual, the passenger's comfort is jeopardized. There are blinking screens with silly obvious messages trailing through. The overhead speakers are high-pitched -old and rusty and dusty, and disturbing.

The lack of attention to detail is the hallmark of American public services. They try. And they fail. These people have no standards whatsoever.

The taxis, well, I could not get a taxi back from the airport a few nights ago, on returning from a conference on the East coast. I came back home in limousine after waiting about an hour. In an illegal limousine service, that is, since the driver was making money on the back of his company. And I was lucky. Today's incident is just one more.

Cars in general, it must be noted, are a joke. Big and chunky, many are way too old to remain in legal circulation status. At 20 miles per gallon, a car is considered good; some can't even make 10 miles per gallon. Despite, the police and environmental authorities look to the other side. Without cars, the city would collapse the next minute. Distances are so big, and alternative transport so pitifully ineffective, that the only means of survival in Los Angeles is to own a working car. Small and usually empty pockets go by with whatever they find. Newcomers are encouraged to buy a cheap nth-hand car to "get by". I simply refuse to add one more car to the madness.

Despite all the oil waste, this city still moves at the speed of a horse and trolley. By horse, today I would have arrived at the station within the hour, on time for my train. If tomorrow all cars vanished from the city, besides a few turds on the roads, order would not be altered one bit. On the contrary, people would actually be on time, traffic jams forgotten.

But don't thou dareth disturb the peacefulness, much less the right of LA citizens to drive their cars! Most have given up on walking anyway. Sidewalks barely exist around the city, often interrupted by parked cars, huge trees, or improper urban design. That, when not altogether absent. A continuous sidewalk from my apartment to the university does not exist. For LA standards, I live right there, 15 minutes away by bike.

I may have completely different standards and I fail to adapt them, or rather, to lower them horribly, at every decision I need to take while living in this sick city. Simply put I am in pain.

We'll see what I'll do today. There are more trains, at a later hour. I could also go and rent a car. I may do that, which is like selling my soul to the devil. The train sounds better. It always had.

The bugger angels from sinfest.net exist

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 01:33:27 CET

Random bugs at the door: two young (under twenty) girls speaking in unison with sweet girlish voices:

"Hiiii ... we are representatives of Jesus Christ" .. (!!!)

Me: "And we are scientists and profoundly atheists."

"Can we at least leave a card with you?"

Me: "No."

"Have a nice daaaay!"

Buggers.

Sols m'acompanya la ràdio

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 01:33:27 CET

Dies fets de carretera
hores dures com l'asfalt;
tal com vaig cremant benzina
cremo vida, cremo sang.

Com un cowboy solitari
sempre sóc lluny de la llar;
sort tinc de les veus amigues
que connecto en el dial.

Sols m'acompanya la ràdio
que dispara com un colt.
Sols m'acompanya la ràdio
i totes les seves cançons
em parlen de tu
em parlen de tu.

[Extracte quasi literal d'una cançó de N'gai n'gai]

I remember you

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 01:33:27 CET

For you

Thu, 01 Jan 1970 01:33:27 CET

You and me.