Gabriel L. Helman 12/30/23 Gabriel L. Helman 12/30/23

Fractals

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Part 1: DFW

Let me tell you a story about something that happens to me. Maybe it happens to you?
This same thing has happened probably a dozen times, if not more, over the last couple of decades. I’ll be in a group some kind, where the membership is not entirely optional—classmates, coworkers, other parents at the kid’s school—and the most irritating, obnoxious member of the group, the one I have the least in common with and would be the least likely to spend time with outside of whatever it is we’re doing, will turn to me, face brightening, and say “Hey! I bet you’re a huge fan of David Foster Wallace.”
I’ve learned that the correct answer to this is a succinct “you know, he didn’t invent footnotes.”^A
Because reader, they do not bet correctly. To be very clear: I have never¹ read any of his work. I’m aware he exists, and there was that stretch in the late 90s where an unread copy of Infinite Jest seemed to spontaneously materialize on everyone’s shelves. But I don’t have an opinion on the guy?²
I have to admit another reaction, in that in addition to this behavior, most of the people⁴¹ you run in to that actually recommend his work are deeply obnoxious.^α
So, I’ve never been able to shake the sense that this is somehow meant as an insult. There’s a vague “attempted othering” about it; it's never presented as “I liked this and I bet you will too,” or “Aha, I finally found a thing we have in common!” it’s more of “Oh, I bet you’re one of those people”. It’s the snap of satisfaction that gets to me. The smug air of “oh, I’ve figured you out.”
And look, I’m a late-era Gen-X computer nerd programmer—there are plenty of stereotypes I’ll own up to happily. Star Wars fan? Absolutely. The other 80s nerd signifiers? Trek, Hitchhiker’s Guide, Monty Python? Sure, yep, yep. Doctor Who used to be the outlier, but not so much anymore.³ William Gibson, Hemmingway, Asimov? For sure.
But this one I don’t understand. Because it cant just be footnotes, right?
I bring all this up because Patricia Lockwood⁴ has written a truly excellent piece on DFW: [Where be your jibes now?].⁷ It’s phenomenal, go read it!
But, I suspect I read it with a unique viewpoint. I devoured it with one question: “am I right to keep being vaguely insulted?”
And, he nervously laughed, I still don’t know!
She certainly seems to respect him, but not actually like him very much? I can’t tell! It’s evocative, but ambiguous? It’s nominally a review of his last, unfinished, posthumously published book, but then works its way though his strange and, shall we say, “complicated” reputation, and then his an overview of the rest of his work.
And I have the same reaction I did every time I hear about his stuff, which is some combination of “that guy sounds like he has problems” (he did) and “that book sounds awful” (they do).
“I bet you’re a fan”
Why? Why do you bet that?
I’m self-aware enough to know that the correct response to all this is probably just to [link to this onion article] And I guess there’s one way to know.
But look. I’m just not going to read a million pages to find out.

Part 2: Footnotes, Hypertext, and Webs

Inevitably, this is after I’ve written something full of footnotes.^B
Well, to expand on that, this usually happens right after I write something with a joke buried in a footnote. I think footnotes are funny! Or rather, I think they’re incredibly not funny by default, a signifier of a particular flavor of dull academic writing, which means any joke you stash in one becomes automatically funnier by virtue of surprise.^C
I do like footnotes, but what I really like is hypertext. I like the way hypertext can spider-web out, spreading in all directions. Any text always has asides, backstory, details, extending fractally out. There’s always more to say about everything. Real life, even the simple parts, doesn’t fit into neat linear narratives. Side characters have full lives, things got where they are somehow, everything has an explanation, a backstory, more details, context. So, generally writing is as much the art of figuring out what to leave out as anything. But hypertext gives you a way to fit all those pieces together, to write in a way that’s multidimensional.^D
Fractals. There’s always more detail. Another story. “On that subject…”^E
Before we could [link] to things, the way to express that was footnotes. Even here, on the system literally called “the web”, footnotes still work as a coherent technique for wrangling hypertext into something easier to get your arms around.^F
But the traditional hypertext [link] is focused on detail—to find out more, click here! The endless cans of rabbit holes of wikipedia’s links to other articles. A world where every noun has a blue underline leading to another article, and another, and so on.^G
Footnotes can do that, but they have another use that links don’t—they can provide commentary.¹³ A well deployed footnote isn’t just “click here to read more”, it’s a commentary, annotations, a Gemara.^H
I come by my fascination with footnotes honestly: The first place I ever saw footnotes deployed in an interesting way was, of all things, a paper in a best-of collection of the Journal of Irreproducible Results.⁹ Someone submitted a paper that was only a half-sentence long and then had several pages of footnotes that contained the whole paper, nested in on itself.¹² I loved this. It was like a whole new structure opened up that had been right under my nose the whole time.^J
Although, if I’m honest, the actual origin of my love of footnotes is probably reading too many choose your own adventure books.¹⁷
I am also a huge fan of overly-formalist structural bullshit, obviously.^α

Part 3: Art from Obnoxious People

What do you do with art that’s recommended by obnoxious people?⁴⁰
In some ways, this is not totally unlike how to deal with art made by “problematic” artists; where if we entirely restricted our intake to art made exclusively by good people, we’d have Mister Rogers' Neighborhood and not much else. But maintaining an increasingly difficult cognitive dissonance while watching Annie Hall is one thing, but when someone you don’t like recommends something?³⁸
To be fair, or as fair as possible, most of this has very, very little to do with the art itself. Why has a movie about space wizards overthrowing space fascists become the favorite movie of actual earth fascists? Who knows? The universe is strange. It’s usually not healthy to judge art by its worst fans.³⁶
Usually.
In my experience, art recommended by obnoxious people takes roughly three forms:³²
There’s art where normal people enjoy it, and it’s broadly popular, and then there’s a deeply irritating toxic substrate of people who maybe like it just a little too much to be healthy. ³⁰
Star Trek is sort of the classic example here, or Star Wars, or Monty Python, or, you know, all of sports. Things that are popular enough where there’s a group of people who have tried to paper over a lack personality by memorizing lines from a 70s BBC sketch comedy show, or batter’s statistics from before they were born. ²⁸
Then there’s the sort of art that unlocks a puzzle, where, say, you have a coworker who is deeply annoying for reasons you can’t quite put your finger on, and then you find out their favorite book is Atlas Shrugged. A weight lifts, aha, you say, got it. It all makes sense now. ²⁶
And then, there’s art²⁴ that exclusively comes into your life from complete dipshits.
The trick is figuring out which one you're dealing with.^q

Part 4: Endnotes

What never? Well, hardly ever!
I think I read the thing where he was rude about cruises?
And boy, as an aside, “I bet you’re a Doctor Who fan” has meant at least four distinct things since I started watching Tom Baker on PBS in the early 80s.
Who⁵ presumably got early parole from her thousand years of jail.⁶
In the rough draft of this I wrote “Patricia Highsmith,” and boy would that be a whole different thing!
Jail for mother!
In the spirit of full disclosure, she wrote it back in July, whereupon I saved it to Instapaper and didn’t read it until this week. I may not be totally on top of my list of things to read?³⁵
"Notes Towards a Mental Breakdown" (1967)
The JoIR is a forum for papers that look and move like scientific papers, but are also a joke.
The bartender is a die-hard Radiers fan; he happily launches into a diatribe about what a disaster the Las Vegas move has been, but that F1 race was pretty great. A few drinks in, he wants to tell you about his “radical” art installation in the back room? To go look, turn to footnote ω To excuse yourself, turn to footnote 20
I knew a girl in college whose ex-boyfriend described Basic Instinct as his favorite movie, and let me tell you, every assumption you just made about that guy is true.
Although, in fairness, that JoIR paper was probably directly inspired by that one J. G. Ballard story.⁸
This was absurdly hard²¹ to put together.³⁹
The elf pulls his hood back and asks: “Well met, traveller! What was your opinion of the book I loaned you?” He slides a copy of Brief Interviews with Hideous Men across the table. To have no opinion, turn to footnote d. To endorse it enthusiastically, turn to footnote α
Or is it five?
You’re right, that bar was sus. Good call, adventurer! To head further into town, turn to footnote 20. To head back out into the spooky woods, go to footnote 22.
You stand in the doorway of a dark and mysterious tavern. Miscreants and desperadoes of all description fill the smoky, shadowed room. You’re looking for work. Your sword seems heavier than normal at your side as you step into the room. If you... Talk to the bartender, turn to footnote 10. Talk to the hooded Elf in the back corner, turn to footnote 14. To see what’s going on back outside, turn to footnote 16.
"Glass Onion” from The Beatles, aka The White Album
Superscript and anchor tags for the link out, then an ordered list where each List Item has to have a unique id so that those anchor tags can link back to them.²³
You head into town. You find a decent desk job; you only mean to work there for a bit, but it’s comfortable and not that hard, so you stay. Years pass, and your sword grows dusty in the back room. You buy a minivan! You get promoted to Director of Internal Operations, which you can never describe correctly to anyone. Then, the market takes a downturn, and you’re one of the people who get “right sized”. They offer you a generous early retirement. To take it, turn to footnote 25. To decline, turn to footnote 22.
But did you know that HTML doesn’t have actual support³³ for footnotes?²³
You journey into the woods. You travel far, journeying across the blasted plains of Hawksroost, the isles of Ka’ah’wan-ah, you climb the spires of the Howling Mountains, you delve far below the labyrinth of the Obsidian Citadel; you finally arrive at the domain of the Clockwork Lord, oldest of all things. Its ancient faces turns towards you, you may ask a boon.

“Is this all there is? Is there nothing more?”: Footnote 27

“I wish for comfort and wealth!” Footnote 25
I have no idea how this will look in most browsers.³¹
This usually still isn’t a direct comment on the art itself, but on the other hand, healthy people don’t breathlessly rave about Basic Instinct,¹¹ you know?
Good call! You settle into a comfortable retirement in the suburbs. Your kids grow up, move out, grow old themselves. The years tick by. One day, when the grandkids are over, one of them finds your old sword in the garage. You gingerly pick it up, dislodging generations of cobwebs. You look down, and see old hands holding it, as if for the first time. You don’t answer when one of them asks what it is; you just look out the window. You can’t see the forest anymore, not since that last development went in. You stand there a long time.

*** You have died ***
And turnabout is fair play: I’ve watched people have this a-ha moment with me and Doctor Who.
The Clockwork Lord has no expression you can understand, but you know it is smiling. “There is always more,” it says, in infinite kindness. “The door to the left leads to the details you are seeking. The door to the right has the answer you are lacking. You may choose.”

Left: Footnote a

Right: Footnote 29
Other examples of this category off the top of my head: Catcher in the rye, MASH, all of Shakespeare.
You step through the doorway, and find yourself in an unfamiliar house. There are people there, people you do not know. With a flash of insight, you realize the adult is your grandchild, far past the time you knew them, the children are your great-grandchildren, whom you have never met. You realize that you are dead, and have been for many years. All your works have been forgotten, adventures, jobs, struggles, lost as one more grain of sand on the shore of time. Your grandchild, now old themselves, is telling their child a story—a story about you. A minor thing, a trifle, something silly you did at a birthday party once. You had totally forgotten, but the old face of the 6-year old who’s party it was didn’t. They’re telling a story.

Oh. You see it,

*** You Have Ascended ***
Fanatics, to coin a phrase?
This feels like it should have one of those old “works best in Netscape Navigator”, except Netscape would choke on all this CSS.³⁷
Björk: (over the phone) I have to say I'm a great fan of triangles.

Space Ghost: Well, I have to say that I am a great fan of Chuck Norris, and he was in the Delta Force, and the delta was a triangle.
Instead you have to code¹⁹ them by hand.
Yeah, I see what you did there.
Okay, that's also a lie; I've actually been working on this on-and-off since July.¹³
Cases in point: I, II, III , IIII
Certified: “It works on my machine!”^α
Especially when they themselves don’t seem to like it?
I mean, the writing itself was tricky enough, with three¹⁵ interleaving essays.
Not annoying people, not assholes: obnoxious. Hard to define, but like pornography, you know it when you see it.
On the other hand, back in the 90s these people were asking about Robert Anton Wilson or saying “fnord” at me, so some things have gotten better, I guess.
That's not the problem. This is: Change. Read it through again and you'll get it.

Part 5: No Moral.

Gabriel L. Helman 12/15/23 Gabriel L. Helman 12/15/23

Friday Linkblog, don’t-be-evil edition

I’ve been meaning to link to these for a while, but keeping some thematic unity with this week, the Verge has has a whole series of articles on Google at 25. My favorites were: The end of the Googleverse and The people who ruined the internet.

(Also, that second article links to Ed Zitron’s excellent The Internet is Already Broken, which I also recommend)

As someone who was both a legal adult and college graduate before Google happened, it’s deeply strange to realize that I lived through the entire era where Google “worked”; before it choked out on SEO content-farm garbage, advertising conflicts of interest, and general enshittification.

And then, Google lost the antitrust case against Epic; see: The Verge, Ars.

(As an aside a certain class of nerd are losing their damn minds that Google lost but Apple didn’t. The Ars comment thread in particular is a showcase of Dunning-Kruger hallucinations of what they wish the law was instead of what it really is.)

I bring this all up so I can tell this story:

Back in the early 2000s, probably 2003 or 4 based on where I was and who I was talking to, I remember a conversation I had about the then-new “don’t be evil” Google. The persons I was talking to were very enthusiastic about them. Recall, there was still the mood in the room that “we” had finally beat Microsoft, they’d lost the antritrust case, the web was going to defeat Windows, and so on.

And I distinctly remember saying something like “Microsoft just operated like an old railroad monopoly, so we already knew how to be afraid of them. We haven’t learned how to be afraid of companies like google yet.”

And, reader: “LOL”. “LMAO”, even. Because, go back and read the stuff in Epic’s lawsuit against Google—Google was doing the exact same stuff that Microsoft got nailed for twenty years ago. To call myself out here on main, we already DID know how to be afraid of google, we just bought their marketing hook, line, and sinker.

We were all so eager to get past Microsoft’s stranglehold on computers that we just conned ourselves into handing even more control to an even worse company. Unable to imagine computers not being dominated by a company, so hey, at least this one isn’t Microsoft, or IBM, or AT&T!

(This is the same fallacy that bugs me about Satanists—they want to rebel, but buy into all the same fundamental assumptions about the universe, but they just root for the other team. Those people never actually go outside the box they started in, and become, say, Buddhists.)

A decade ago this is where I would have 800 words endorsing FOSS as the solution, but I think at this point, deep down, we all know that isn’t the answer either.

Maybe this time, lets try regulating the hell out of all of this, and then try hard to pay attention and not get scammed by the next big company that comes along and flirts with us? Let's put some energy into getting out of the box instead of just finding one with nicer branding.

Gabriel L. Helman 12/15/23 Gabriel L. Helman 12/15/23

Layoff Season(s)

Well, it’s layoff season again, which pretty much never stopped this year? I was going to bury a link or two to an article in that last sentence, but you know what? There’s too many. Especially in tech, or tech-adjacent fields, it’s been an absolute bloodbath this year.

So, why? What gives?

I’ve got a little personal experience here: I’ve been through three layoffs now, lost my job once, shoulder-rolled out of the way for the other two. I’ve also spent the last couple decades in and around “the tech industry”, which here we use as shorthand for companies that are either actually a Silicon Valley software company, or a company run by folks that used to/want to be from one, with a strong software development wing and at least one venture capital–type on the board.

In my experience, Tech companies are really bad at people. I mean this holistically: they’re bad at finding people, bad at hiring, and then when they do finally hire someone, they’re bad at supporting those people—training, “career development”, mentoring, making sure they’re in the right spot, making sure they’re successful. They’re also bad any kind of actual feedback cycle, either to reward the excellent or terminate underperformers. As such, they’re also bad at keeping people. This results in the vicious cycle that puts the average time in a tech job at about 18 months—why train them if they’re gonna leave? Why stay if they won’t support me?

There are pockets where this isn’t true, of course; individual managers, or departments, or groups, or even glue-type individuals holding the scene together that handle this well. I think this is all a classic “don’t attribute to malice what you can attribute to incompetence” situtation. I say this with all the love in the world, but people who are good at tech-type jobs tend to be low-empathy lone wolf types? And then you spend a couple decades promoting the people from that pool, and “ask your employees what they need” stops being common sense and is suddenly some deep management koan.

The upshot of all this is that most companies with more than a dozen or two employees have somewhere between 10–20% of the workforce that isn’t really helping out. Again—this isn’t their fault! The vast majority of those people would be great employees in a situation that’s probably only a tiny bit different than the one you’re in. But instead you have the one developer who never seems to get anything done, the other developer who’s work always fails QA and needs a huge amount of rework, the person who only seems to check hockey scores, the person whos always in meetings, the other person whose always in “meetings.” That one guy who always works on projects that never seem to ship.¹ The extra managers that don’t seem to manage anyone. And, to be clear, I’m talking about full-time salaried people. People with a 401(k) match. People with a vesting schedule.

No one doing badly enough to get fired, but not actually helping row the boat.

As such, at basically any point any large company—and by large I mean over about 50—can probably do a 10% layoff and actually move faster afterwards, and do a 20% layoff without any significant damage to the annual goals—as long as you don’t have any goals about employee morale or well-being. Or want to retain the people left.

The interesting part—and this is the bad interesting, to be clear—is if you can fire 20% of your employees at any time, when do you do that?

In my experience, there’s two reasons.

First, you drop them like a submarine blowing the ballast tanks. Salaries are the biggest expense center, and in a situation where the line isn’t going up right, dropping 20% of the cost is the financial equivalent of the USS Dallas doing an emergency surface.

Second, you do it to discipline labor. Is the workforce getting a little restless? Unhappy about the stagnat raises? Grumpy about benefits costing more? Is someone waving around a copy of Peopleware?² Did the word “union” float across the courtyard? That all shuts down real fast if all those people are suddenly sitting between two empty cubicles. “Let’s see how bad they score the engagement survey if the unemployment rate goes up a little!” Etc.

Again—this is all bad! This is very bad! Why do any this?

The current wave feels like a combo plate of both reasons. On the one hand, we have a whole generation of executive leaders that have never seen interest rates go up, so they’re hitting the one easy panic button they have. But mostly this feels like a tantrum by the c-suite class reacting to “hot labor summer” becoming “eternal labor september.”

Of course, this is where I throw up my hands and have nothing to offer except sympathy. This all feels so deeply baked in to the world we live in that it seems unsolvable short of a solution that ends with us all wearing leather jackets with only one sleve.

So, all my thoughts with everyone unexpectedly jobless as the weather gets cold. Hang on to each other, we’ll all get through this.

At one point in my “career”, the wags in the cubes next to mine made me a new nameplate that listed my job as “senior shelf-ware engineer.” I left it up for months, because it was only a little bit funny, but it was a whole lot true.
That one was probably me, sorrryyyyyy (not sorry)

Gabriel L. Helman 12/8/23 Gabriel L. Helman 12/8/23

Re-Capturing the Commons

The year’s winding down, which means it’s time to clear out the drafts folder. Let me tell you about a trend I was watching this year.

Over the last couple of decades, a business model has emerged that looks something like this:

A company creates a product with a clear sales model, but doesn’t have value without a strong community
The company then fosters such a community, which then steps in and shoulders a fair amount of the work of running said community
The community starts creating new things on top of what that original work of the parent company—and this is important—belong to those community members, not the company
This works well enough that the community starts selling additional things to each other—critically, these aren’t competing with that parent company, instead we have a whole “third party ecosystem”.

(Hang on, I’ll list some examples in a second.)

These aren’t necessarily “open source” from a formal OSI “Free & Open Source Software” perspective, but they’re certainly open source–adjacent, if you will. Following the sprit, if not the strict legal definition.

Then, this year especially, a whole bunch of those types of companies decided that they wouldn’t suffer anyone else makining things they don’t own in their own backyard, and tried to reassert control over the broader community efforts.

Some specific examples of what I mean:

The website formerly known as Twitter eliminating 3rd party apps, restricting the API to nothing, and blocking most open web access.
Reddit does something similar, effectively eliminates 3rd party clients and gets into an extended conflict with the volunteer community moderators.
StackOverflow and the rest of the StackExchange network also gets into an extended set of conflicts with its community moderators, tries to stop releasing the community-generated data for public use, revises license terms, and descends into—if you’ll forgive the technical term—a shitshow.
Hasbro tries to not only massively restrict the open license for future versions of Dungeons and Dragons, but also makes a move to retroactively invalidate the Open Game License that covered material created for the 3rd and 5th editions of the game over the last 20 years.

And broadly, this is all part of the Enshittification Curve story. And each of these examples have a whole set of unique details. Tens, if not hundreds of thousands of words have been written on each of these, and we don’t need to re-litigate those here.

But there’s a specific sub-trend here that I think is worth highlighting. Let’s look at what those four have in common:

Each had, by all accounts, a successful business model. After-the-fact grandstanding non-withstanding, none of those four companies was in financial trouble, and had a clear story about how they got paid. (Book sales, ads, etc.)
They all had a product that was absolutely worthless without an active community. (The D&D player’s handbook is a pretty poor read if you don’t have people to play with, reddit with no comments is just an ugly website, and so on)
Community members were doing significant heavy lifting that the parent company was literally unable to do. (Dungeon Mastering, community moderating. Twitter seems like the outlier here at first glance, but recall that hashtags, threads, the word “tweet” and literally using a bird as a logo all came from people not on twitter’s payroll.)
There were community members that made a living from their work in and around the community, either directly or indirectly. (3rd party clients, actual play streams, turning a twitter account about things your dad says into a network sitcom. StackOverflow seems like the outlier on this one, until you remember that many, many people use their profiles there as a kind of auxiliary outboard resume.)
They’ve all had recent management changes; more to the point, the people who designed the open source–adjacent business model are no longer there.
These all resulted in huge community pushback

So we end up in a place where a set of companies that no one but them can make money in their domains, and set their communities on fire. There was a lot of handwaving about AI as an excuse, but mostly that’s just “we don’t want other people to make money” with extra steps.

To me, the most enlightening one here is Hasbro, because it’s not a tech company and D&D is not a tech product, so the usual tech excuses for this kind of behavior don’t fly. So let’s poke at that one for an extra paragraph or two:

When the whole OGL controversy blew up back at the start of the year, certain quarters made a fair amount of noise about how this was a good thing, because actually, most of what mattered about D&D wasn’t restrict-able, or was in the public domain, and good old fair use was a better deal than the overly-restrictive OGL, and that the community should never have taken the deal in the first place. And this is technically true, but only in the ways that don’t matter.

Because, yes. The OGL, as written, is more restrictive that fair use, and strict adherence to the OGL prevents someone from doing things that should otherwise be legal. But that misses the point.

Because what we’re actually talking about is an industry with one multi-billion dollar company—the only company on earth that has literal Monopoly money to spend—and a whole bunch of little tiny companies with less than a dozen people. So the OGL wasn’t a crummy deal offered between equals, it was the entity with all the power in the room declaring a safe harbor.

Could your two-person outfit selling PDFs online use stuff from Hasbro’s book without permission legally? Sure. Could you win the court case when they sue you before you lose your house? I mean, maybe? But not probably.

And that’s what was great about it. For two decades, it was the deal, accept these slightly more restrictive terms, and you can operate with the confidence that your business, and your house, is safe. And an entire industry formed inside that safe harbor.

Then some mid-level suit at Hasbro decided they wanted a cut?

And I’m using this as the example partly because it’s the most egregious. But 3rd party clients for twitter and reddit were a good business to be in, until they suddenly were not.

And I also like using Hasbro’s Bogus Journey with D&D as the example because that’s the only one where the community won. With the other three here, the various owners basically leaned back in their chairs and said “yeah, okay, where ya gonna go?” and after much rending of cloth, the respective communities of twitter, and reddit, and StackOverflow basically had to admit there wasn’t an alternative., they were stuck on that website.

Meanwhile, Hasbro asked the same question, and the D&D community responded with, basically, “well, that’s a really long list, how do you want that organized?”

So Hasbro surrendered utterly, to the extent that more of D&D is now under a more irrevocable and open license that it was before. It feels like there’s a lesson in competition being healthy here? But that would be crass to say.

Honestly, I’m not sure what all this means; I don’t have a strong conclusion here. Part of why this has been stuck in my drafts folder since June is that I was hoping one of these would pop in a way that would illuminate the situation.

And maybe this isn’t anything more than just what corporate support for open source looks like when interest rates start going up.

But this feels like a thing. This feels like it comes from the same place as movie studios making record profits while saying their negotiation strategy is to wait for underpaid writers to lose their houses?

Something is released into the commons, a community forms, and then someone decides they need to re-capture the commons because if they aren’t making the money, no one can. And I think that’s what stuck with me. The pettiness.

You have a company that’s making enough money, bills are paid, profits are landing, employees are taken care of. But other people are also making money. And the parent company stops being a steward and burns the world down rather than suffer someone else make a dollar they were never going to see. Because there’s no universe where a dollar spent on Tweetbot was going to go to twitter, or one spent on Apollo was going to go to reddit, or one spent on any “3rd party” adventure was going to go to Hasbro.

What can we learn from all this? Probably not a lot we didn’t already know, but: solidarity works, community matters, and we might not have anywhere else to go, but at the same time, they don’t have any other users. There’s no version where they win without us.

Gabriel L. Helman 12/1/23 Gabriel L. Helman 12/1/23

A Story About Beep the Meep

Up until last weekend, Doctor Who’s “Beep the Meep” was an extremely deep cut. Especially for American fans who didn’t have access to Doctor Who Monthly back in the 80s, you had to be a vary particular kind of invested to know who The Meep was. And, you know, guilty as charged.

We bought our first car with a lock remote maybe fifteen years ago? And when we get home, I’ll frequently ask something like “did you beep the car?” And I always want to make the joke “did you beep the meep”. And I always stop myself, because look, my family already knows more about Doctor Who then they ever, ever wanted to, but the seminar required to explain that joke? “So, the meep is a cute little fuzzy guy, but he’s actually the galaxy’s most wanted war criminal, and so the Doctor gets it wrong at first, and the art is done by the watchmen guy before he teamed up with The Magus, and it’s a commentary on the show using ugly as a signifier of evil, and actually it came before ET and gremlins, and…”

And just, no. Nope, no deal. That’s beyond the pale. I could explain the joke, but not in a way where it would ever be close to funny. So instead, about once a month, I stop myself from asking if the meep got beeped.

Flash forward to this week.

We all piled out of the car after something or other. Bundling into the house. Like normal, the joke flashed through my mind and I was about to dismis it. But then it suddenly came to me: this was it. They all know who the Meep is now! Through the strangest of happenstances, a dumb joke I thought of in 2008 and haven’t been able to use finally, finally, became usable. This was my moment! A profound sense of satisfaction filled my body, the deep sense of fulfillment of checking off a box long un-checked.

“Hey!” I said, “Did you Beep the Meep?”

...

Turns out, even with context, still not that funny.

Gabriel L. Helman 11/22/23 Gabriel L. Helman 11/22/23

Email Verification

The best and worst thing about email is that anyone can send an email to anyone else without permission. The people designing email didn’t think this was a problem, of course. They were following the pattern of all the other communications technology of the time—regular mail, the phones, telegrams. Why would I need permission to send a letter? That’s crazy.

Of course, here in the Twenties, three of those systems are choked by robot-fueled marketing spam, and the fourth no longer exists. Of all the ways we ended up living in a cyberpunk dystopia, the fact that no one will answer their phone anymore because they don’t want to be harassed by a robot is the most openly absurd; less Gibson, more Vonnegut-meets-Ballard.

(I know I heard that joke somewhere, but I cannot remember where. Sorry, whoever I stole that from!)

Arguably, there are whole social networks who built outward from the basic concept of “what if you had to get permission to send a message directly to someone?”

With email though, I’m always surprised that systems don’t require you to verify your email before sending messages to it. This is actually very easy to do! Most web systems these days use the user’s email address as their identity. This is very convenient, because someone else is handling the problem of making sure your ids are unique, and you always have a way to contact your users. All you have to do is make them click a link in an email you sent them, and now you know they gave you a live address and it’s really them. Easy!

(And look, as a bonus, if you email them “magic links” you also don’t have to worry about a whole lot of password garbage. But thats a whole different topic.)

But instead a remarkable number of places just let people type some stuff that looks like an email address into a web form and then just use it.

And I don’t get it. Presumably you’re collecting user emails because you want to be able to contact them about whatever service you’re providing them, and probably also send them marketing. And if they put an email in that isn’t correct you can’t do either. I mean, if they somehow to put in a fake or misspelled address that happens to turn out to be valid, I guess you can still send that address stuff, but it’s not like the person at the other end of that is going to be receptive.

Okay great, but, ummmmmm, why do you bring this up?

I’m glad you ask! I mention this because there are at least three people out there in the world that keep misspelling their email addresses as mine. Presumably their initials are close to mine, and they have similar names, and they decomposed their names into an available gmail address in a manner similar to how I did. Or even worse—I was early to the gmail party, so I got an address with no numbers, maybe these folks got 47.

My last name is one that came into existence because someone at Ellis Island didn’t care to decipher my great-grandfather’s accent and wrote down something “pretty close.” As a side effect of this, I’ve personally met every human that’s ever had that last name—to whom I’m related. I suspect this name was a fairly common Ellis Island shortcut, however, since there a surprising number of people out there with the same last name whom I’ve never heard of and am not related to.

But so the upshot is that I keep getting email meant for other people. Never anything personal, never anything I could respond to, but spam, or newsletters, or updates about their newspaper account.

I’ve slowly built up a mental image of these people. They all seem older, two midwest or east coast, one in Texas.

One, though, has been a real spree the last year or so. I think he’s somewhere in the greater Chicago area. He signed up for news from Men’s Wearhouse, he ordered a new cable install from Spectrum Cable. Unlike previous people, since this guy started showing up, it’s been a deluge.

And what do you do? I unsubscribe when I can, but that never works. But I don’t just want to unsubscribe, I want to find a third party to whom I can respond and say “hey, can you tell that guy that he keeps spelling his email wrong?”

The Spectrum bills drive me crazy. There were weeks where he didn’t “activate his new equipment”, and I kept shaking my head thinking, yeah, no wonder, he’s not getting the emails with the link to activate in them. He finally solved this problem, but now I get a monthly notification that his bill is ready to be paid. And I know that Spectrum has his actual address, and could technically pass a message along, but there is absolutely no customer support flow to pass a message along that they typed their email wrong.

So, delete, mark as spam, unsubscribe. Just one more thing that clogs up our brief time on Earth.

And then, two weeks ago, I got a google calendar invite.

The single word “counseling” was the meeting summary. No body, just google meet link. My great regret was that I didn’t see this until after the time had passed. It had been cancelled, but there it was. Sitting in my inbox. Having been sent from what was clearly a personal email address.

Was this it? The moment?

I thought about it. A lot. I had to try, right?

After spending the day turning it over in my head, I sent this email back to the person who was trying to do “counseling”:

Hello!

This is a long shot, but on the off chance that someone gave you this address rather than it being a typo, could you please tell whomever you it from to please be more careful entering their email? I've been getting a lot of emails for someone else recently that are clearly the result of someone typing their email wrong and ending up typing mine by mistake. While I can happily ignore the extra spam, I suspect that person would rather be the one receiving the emails they signed up for? Also, their cable bill is ready.

If you typoed it, obviously, no worries! Hope you found the person you meant to send that to.

In any case, have a great weekend!

I never got a response.

But the next day I got an email telling me my free trial for some business scheduling software was ready for me to use.

“The end! No moral.”

Gabriel L. Helman 10/18/23 Gabriel L. Helman 10/18/23

Premature Quote Sourcing

“Premature Optimization is the Root of all Evil.” — Donald Knuth

That’s a famous phrase! You’ve probably seen that quoted a whole bunch of times. I’ve said it a whole bunch myself. I went down a rabbit hole recently when I started noticing constructions like “usually attributed to Donald Knuth” instead of crediting the professor directly. And, what? I mean, the man said it, right? He’s still alive, this isn’t some bon mot from centuries ago. So I started digging around, and found a whole bunch of places where it was instead attributed to C. A. R. Hoare! (Hoare, of course, is famous for many things but mostly for inventing the null pointer.) What’s the deal?

Digging into the interwebs further, that’s one of those quotes that’s taken on a life of it’s own, and just kinda floats around as a free radical. The kind of line that shows up on inspirational quote lists or tacked on the start of documents, but divorced from their context, like that time Abraham Lincoln said “The problem with internet quotes is that you cannot always depend on their accuracy.”

But, this seems very knowable! Again, we’re talking about literally living history. Digging even further, if people give a source it’s usually Knuth’s 1974 paper “Structured Programming with go to Statements.”

“Structured Programming with go to Statements” is one of those papers that gets referenced a lot but not a lot of people have read, which is too bad, because it’s a great piece of work. It’s shaped like an academic paper, but as “the kids say today”, it’s really an extended shitpost, taking the piss out of both the then-new approach of “Structured Programming”, specifically as discussed in Dijkstra’s “Go to Statement Considered Harmful”, as well as the traditionalist spaghetti-code enthusiasts. It’s several thousand words worth of “everyone needs to calm down and realize you can write good or bad code in any technique” and it’s glorious.

Knuth is fastidious about citations, sometimes to the point of parody, so it seems like we can just check that paper and see if he cites a source?

Fortunately for us, I have a copy! It’s the second entry in Knuth’s essay collection about Literate Programming, which is apparently the sort of thing I keep lying around.

In my copy, the magic phrase appears on page 28. There isn’t a citation anywhere near the line, and considering that chapter has 103 total references that take up 8 pages of endnotes, we can assume he didn’t think he was quoting anyone.

Looking at the line in context makes it clear that it’s an original line. I’ll quote the whole paragraph and the following, with apologies to Professor Knuth:

There is no doubt that the “grail” of efficiency leads to abuse. Programmers waste enormous amounts of time thinking about, or worrying about, the speed of noncritical parts of their programs, and these attempts at efficiency actually have a strong negative impact when debugging and maintenance are considered. We should forget about small efficiencies, about 97% of the time. Premature optimization is the root of all evil.

Yet we should not pass up our opportunities in that critical 3%. Good programmers will not be lulled into complacency by such reasoning, they will be wise to look carefully at the critical code; but only after that code has been identified. It is often a mistake to make a priori judgments about what parts of a program are really critical, since the universal experience of programmers who have been using measurement tools has been that their intuitive guesses fail.

Clearly, it’s a zinger tossed off in the middle of his thought about putting effort in the right place. Seems obviously original to the paper in question. So, why the confused attributions? Seems simple.

With some more digging, it seems that Hoare liked to quote the line a lot, and at some point Knuth forgot it was his own lone and attributed it himself to Hoare. I can’t find a specific case of that on the web, so it may have been in a talk, but that seems to be the root cause of the tangled sourcing.

Thats kind of delightful; imagine having tossed off so many lines like that you don’t even remember which ones were yours!

This sort of feels like the kind of story where you can wrap it up by linking to Lie Bot saying “The end! No moral.”

Except. As a final thought, that warning takes a very different tone when shown in context. It seems like to gets trotted out a lot as an excuse to not do any optimization “right now”; an appeal to authority to follow the “make it work, then make it fast” approach. I’ve used it that way myself, I’m must admit, it’s always easy to argue that it’s still “premature”. But that’s not the meaning. Knuth is saying to focus your efforts, not to waste time with clever hacks that don’t do anything but make maintenance harder, to measure and really know where the problems are before you go fixing them.