Scrame

June 16, 2010

Daily #163: The Elements of Computing Systems

Filed under: Technology,books,daily,reviews — scrame @ 7:22 pm

I picked up and started working through the textbook “The Elements of Computing Systems”.

Its a pretty cool book, it covers an overview of basic computer engineering, starting with a simple logical gate and then a flip-flop and working up to a CPU with extensible RAM units. It ships with a lot of software that simulates the processes working, and also a suite of test files for each chip and operation. The other end of the book is building a software system from assembly all the way up to a bytecode compiler and VM interpreter. The lessons are mostly simple, but the textbook is still new and there are some parts that are a bit hard to connect (especially with no followup resources to the text, though the code samples are well discussed and supported.

I got stuck sometime last year about halfway through, at the end of the hardware section. I’m bypassing that to get into the software, which is really mostly what I’m interested in (were I still a student and had the choice between CS and EE, things would be different).

Anyway, most of the concepts are simple, and its considered an overview of the entire “technology stack” from a NAND gate to writing tetris in a language similar to java.

I’m a computer programmer by trade, of course, but I work in a very different space, and its nice to have a comprehensive introduction to how all of these black box technologies work together at an interface.

Overall, the book is decent, and I suspect would work better in a classroom environment. There were many times that I found myself stuck, or strangely limited by the tools that were provided by the exercises. Additionally, on line resources are limited, and using non standard languages (though usually based on real world languages like java and verilog), it can be difficult to make the conceptual leaps between the hardware abstractions.If the interface language were more robust (or maybe the documentation clearer) it would be easier to find solutions to the problems.

Here is the original presentation that got me interested as a concept:

Tomorrow I’ll update some of the code, not sure if I should push it to github if it might be someones homework.

Wouldn’t want them to get an F because of me.

January 15, 2010

Daily 15: Preliminary Freakonomics.

Filed under: books,culture,daily — scrame @ 9:25 pm

I finally picked up a copy of Freakonomics, and am a bit on the fence after all the hype. The introduction and first couple chapters were not particularly interesting to me, it was mostly establishing that people would either cheat or settle for their own best interest. Shocking! You mean that a real estate agent is only out for their own commission, and trying to get as many of those as possible? Real estate agents! Next thing you’ll be telling me high powered lawyers have many clients and prefer to do business by phone so they can get blowjobs and rub coke on their gums while still racking up billable hours. Or that people who have jobs on tv like talking a lot.

The writing itself is a nice middle ground between malcolm gladwell’s entertaining pap, and john allen paulos’ book, Innumeracy. There is a frank discussion of how statistics work, and how emotions and testimonials can bias people, but its filled with a wide variety of interesting anecdotes. This had left me on the fence: Gladwell is a master of interesting anecdotes, but his conclusions are always vague, and lie somewhere in between “feel-good” and “trying to be profound”. Also, some times pretentious.

The first chapter on crime “Why do drug dealers live with their mom?” Was interesting. Whenever I had heard reference to this on some dreary NPR interview, or in passing conversation, it always made me roll my eyes. People who sit and write academic papers obviously never had a single friend who sold weed. All that schooling, high school college, grad school. How is that seriously surprising? Whatever the worst drug is, is almost necessarily the cheapest. Crack had a hayday, not because it “brought class to the mass”, but because it cost you less than some cheap hooch, and fucked you up faster and harder. Thats the reason people still huff spray paint, and third world kids huff sprite bottles full of sewage. Someone who desperately wants to get fucked up will do so, regardless of motivation (poverty, hardships, lunacy, bad grades, jerk parents). Crack isn’t something that people just think would be fun, folks who start smoking crack have a long history of getting fucked up. To the point that they do not want, or can’t afford something better. Or it no longer does the job. The addictive qualities are something that kick in after they get into it, but a persons self destructive behavior has a real history and influences, and not just “its cheap and people think coke is classy.”

The addictiveness and short termw affects does drive demand, and causes a lot of competition, which is unique to the very cheap and hard drugs, and is certainly what created the ocean of drug dealing businesses as described in the book. Certainly there are similar organizations for other drugs, as well, albeit sometimes with different suppliers, and all sorts of clientele, but amassing, distributing, and selling any product, legal or not, takes a large organization and a lot of teamwork.

What was interesting, was the sociologist who spent 6 years sleeping on floors and moving from family to family studying the conditions. I have never been one to believe either the hip-hop or republican stereotypes of millionaire street pushers, and cadillac welfare queens. I think more common is the older millionaire who collects social security checks, even though they dont need to, because they paid into it.

The living conditions of the poor in America is something that is generally ignored. When Katrina hit, this was immediately brought to the surface and inspired the usual useless handwringing and liberal guilt, little in the way of recovery of the demolished places that had already been all but abandoned to the poor.

What I find a little disturbing is that the success of a few is found remarkable. Or somehow unsurprising. The fact that in a huge group of disenfranchised people with no resources or opportunity that some people would manage to get a solid education, but find the rest of the world unsympathetic use their talents to live in the world they were from to find their own success is pure human nature. Being surprised that there are smart, organized, and sometimes ruthless people who manage to survive and do well is not a surprise, because they are born into an environment where they have to survive.

A rich kid who has every need attended to, and gets through a prep school to get into a top-notch college and then finds a cushy job in business is not surprising either. What would be surprising is finding one of them who had managed to succeed in the others world.

Ultimately, I found the chapter interesting because someone had anthropologically crossed cultures, documented, and had evidence of the numbers. Not at all about how it was organized, or what the numbers were. Truthfully, that should be the point of the book, but the premise was based on assumptions that I find reprehensible.

A parting thought (for now):

Alan Kay once remarked on programming:

“Computing spread out much, much faster than educating unsophisticated people can happen. In the last 25 years or so, we actually got something like a pop culture, similar to what happened when television came on the scene and some of its inventors thought it would be a way of getting Shakespeare to the masses. But they forgot that you have to be more sophisticated and have more perspective to understand Shakespeare. What television was able to do was to capture people as they were. So I think the lack of a real computer science today, and the lack of real software engineering today, is partly due to this pop culture.”

While the part about Shakespeare is mixed (Shakespeare was written for the common folk, pretentious academic folk don’t like modern english adaptations because much of it just sounds like a soap opera. Which much of it is. To appreciate SHAKESPEARE, then, you must be an intellectual and wade through tomes of baroque language so you can fully understand it as a play, which requires a certain kind of “sophistication” that is lost on plebs like me). The truth is that over the last 30 years there is a definite white-collar pop culture that has been gbuilt up over “The Web” and “Geek Culture”, and people really think that they can just start a website or software company and be a “rockstar” (their term). This particular chapter made a lot of allusions to typical pop culture: movie stars, pop starts, pro athletes. However, there has been a large rise in the pop culture of trying to be a tech mogul, and get on the inside track. This is because there are a lot of preppy rich kids who have managed to make some money, but it is the same hierarchy: only a few make it to the show.

That last sentence is what this was going to be about initially. The rest is just tirade.

Peace!

January 10, 2010

Quick Review: Get Busy Committee — Uzi Does It.

Filed under: reviews,reviews:music — scrame @ 11:28 pm

I checked out the new project by Apathy (Demigodz / Army of the Pharaohs) and Ryu (of Styles of Beyond) called Uzi Does It . (ok, enough links). Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I felt so unsettled listening through an album on the first play through.

If you aren’t familiar with these guys, they are both white rappers, Apathy is from Connecticut and Ryu/SoB is from LA, who have been very prolific in the last 10 years in the hip hop underground. I was a big fan of the early Styles of Beyond stuff which fell squarely in the party/Awesome rap category, and Apathy got some early hype with Sage Francis on some radio bootlegs that were passed around in the old napster days. Apathy, on the hand was squarely in the cartoonish gangsta/battle rap category, but over the last few years has put out a pile of mixtapes, two solid solo albums, and was a dominant voice in the first Army of the Pharoahs compilation.

Regardless of my ham-fisted attempt at their discography, knowing who they are isn’t much of indication of the album. It is a grimly satirical take on the crossing of hip hop and pop music. The beats are done with a loving nod to the fast pace disco roots of hip hop in the ’80s, but there is always something off key and dischordant. My initial reaction was completely mixed, the verses were all solid, and managed to have an appealing flow, but the beats were off key pop, like if Tim&Eric recruited Necro to produce an early ’90s karaoke record. It manages to be poppy and appealing, but holds anxiety as the beat progresses. The effort into polishing went not in to making it more pop, but tweaking the uncomfortable parts of the beats.

The lyrics flow like a party beat, and while the subject matter is still about living the club life, it is decidedly negative. If Cuban Linx II was a return to the form of profane, unglamorous storytelling of the drug game; Uzi Does It manages to do this with living in the club scene. The disturbingly catchy beats bounce along with verses about guns, women and drugs, with an unflattering balance towards the cold-heartedness of it all make it unsettlingly memorable.

Its not all great, though, while the first half of the album is propelling, the final stretch of songs start tending toward relationships, and the low-budget charm starts to border on camp. This becomes almost unbearable by the time the final track “Come Talk to Me” comes on, but fortunately the cloying samples dwindle midway through leaving a simple breakbeat and a short stretch of apathy giving shout-outs.

That being said, I can’t stop listening to it. Here are a couple tracks:





And the title track. This one grew on me.

Yep, their mascot is a koala in a raiders hat holding an uzi.

Anyway, give it a full listen through. There are a lot pieces that I think only make sense in the context of the album.

p.s. I am going to start whoring out links and maybe some adsense on this. I havn’t done any random traffic experiments for a long time, but am intrigued. I put analytics on a few sites and am just watching them for now.

January 7, 2010

Daily #7: A response to a friend about a movie.

Filed under: culture,daily,reviews — scrame @ 11:13 pm

[This is a response to a friend's review of "There will be Blood". If I get permission I will post his to provide context.]

Wow, quite solid. I agree with the point about being reminded who made the movie constantly, which is partly why i dislike quentin tarantino movies. There is part of me that really likes what he does, but its always overshadowed with being bludgeoned with the fact that everything is an obscure movie reference and the fact that most of the characters all talk exactly like quentin tarantino (Carradines “superman” monologue at the end of kill bill comes to mind).

There will be blood had beautiful shots, and scenery and music, but it just seemed like it was trying so hard to hit you over the head with how majestic it was that it was covering for the fact that there was very little substance to the movie. Its possible to make moving movies of just scenery and music, and entertaining movies without, but after sitting through the whole thing it just made me shrug. The ‘wow’ affect of the environment wore off as the movie wore on, and the raw emotional parts seemed mostly tacked on because they had spent so much time establishing the characters as being unemotional (or fraudulently so). By the time the tacked on ending of him having a blowout with his teenaged/adult son, i had felt grateful the movie had come to an end and didn’t see why it was necessary to add another

I felt similarly about “the wrestler”, though i think its a much better movie (meaning i’ve watched it twice, maybe 3 times). I meant to add on my comments to the thread a while back, but didn’t see it until after the fact. I liked it, thought it was well cast and acted, but coming from aaronofsky i figured it would just be a depressing story about a loser. And it was. To the point that every plot development just seemed … obvious. It threw every trope it could at you, but there was never a point where i wondered what would happen next. Knowing its going to be a depressing movie by a certain director about a wrestler means that when he struggles through getting together with his kid that he’s going to screw it up again, that his jovial stripper relationship wouldn’t pull him back from a lifetime of poor decisions, and since he was ailing he would have health problems, but have no choice but to die where he belonged. Any other way to take it would have been a garden state style cop-out, where everything is happy and it shows a nice funeral in the future with his daughter and girlfriend with kid. Since the movie was about his constantly poor decision making and closing off his options there was no chance of a miserable ending of just a mediocre lonely future, since the movie itself was about the miserable, lonely future of a professional wrestler.

Each piece of the movie was so obvious that after establishing the characters there was no real surprise when anything happened, even though it was almost universally negative. After showing who he was and where he ended up and what his life was like, the only redemption from his fall from grace was dying in the ring. (spoiler alert!)

That being said there are a lot of scenes in it that stuck with me and ill probably see it again. There will be blood, on the other hand, I had completely forgotten about until I saw it on someones “best of” movie list.

Oh yeah, and Mickey Rourke was a perfect casting choice, and I liked Marissa Tomei.

January 1, 2010

Gravediggaz: Six Feet Deep

Filed under: reviews,reviews:music — scrame @ 8:40 pm

[ I would like to write more regular reviews of the random stuff I have lying around. When I started this, the gravediggaz first album seemed like a good starting point, but I never fleshed it out. There is more I could write about this, but I am just now publishing old posts, and this is as incoherent as any other. ]

The Gravediggaz was an anomoly: a hip-hop “supergroup” made up of members of seminal hip-hop artists that were mostly unrecognized by  mainstream media trying to capitalize on what they saw as a controversial goldmine in commercial hip-hop: Horrorcore.

Here is what is interesting about this album:

It is RZA’s first non Wu-Tang project.
It is RZA’s first project after “Enter the Wu-Tang”
It has the first appearance of Killah Priest.
It features MC Search as a supporting MC.
It is Prince Pauls first project after de la soul.

On Outliers.

Filed under: reviews — scrame @ 8:38 pm

[ Gladwell came up in a recent conversation, and I remembered this post: http://mastodonchitchat.blogspot.com/2008/12/stranded-with-oriental-mind.html . Reposted to be able to find again. ]

Stranded with the oriental mind.


I read a book recently. It was by a halfrican-canadian.
It was about success.
It was supposed to tell me how I could be a success.
Instead it told me I wasnt.
That I wouldnt be.
But that it wasn’t my fault.
It was the year I was born. Maybe even the day.
It had pages of stories, of koreans who would rather crash airplanes and send hundreds of people to the hell of burning wreckage than be slapped by their bosses.
It told me of robber barons and modern capitalists, and they all had the same birthday, of Jewish lawyers from public schools who overtook the nords.

They all had the same birthday.

He said orientals had better numbers and could count quicker. That they could hold more numbers in their heads, that rice paddys made them good at math.

The chinese worked harder because they had to. It was the oriental mind.

Occidentalism is my plague. I dont have a laundry, or a small grocery to stake a claim. I dont have the right birthday. I dont have the oriental mind. I couldn’t level a rice paddy. I can’t wake before dawn.

The great oriental mind. The suncrunchers. The jew-laywers and white monks in the birthday club, merrily toasting each others good fortune. The oriental mind will soon overtake them. They have no artifices, no need for dialog, simply a lifetime of backbreaking servitude to the sunken marshes of rice.

The nords lost, didn’t they? Tall men with cold blue eyes and starchy suits. Lined row-upon row, whiter than their teeth. The nords have the wrong calendar, the wrong birthdate. They organized, standing in pyramids on each others shoulders, building scaffolds of nord, short-cropped hair tousled by the wind.

The nords stood strong with each other: a human crystal, walls of aryan blood lashed together for the benefit of nords. They crumbled, they fell, succumbing to the oriental mind. Helplessly twisting, their woolen suits tearing, strong bones crushed to meal.

Maybe the world was better off.

Orientals can’t all do math. At least not the ones I know. They all count in english, too.

The lawyers, the Jewish ones, I hear live in New York. I dont know any of them. They didnt crumble the nords, they stayed well away, they built their human monuments low to the ground, and out of the way of the nord towers. They held hands and shed law, weeping, bleeding pages of what they could grab. I am told that they too were occidental.

Who owns the world, these days? The ones who make the television sets. In the orient, there are paper doll factories, stuffed to the gills with orientals making entertaining pirouhettes, stuffing them in the televisions to be shipped to us.

My occidental blood is diluted, I am a mongrel, ethnically and culturally. I have been exposed, as I suspect you have, to the oriental mind. I have built it as a lattice in my mind, unravaged, built as twisted vines from my slow counting brain.

And it always lingers. The nords never asked me to stand on their shoulders, the jews never asked me to weep the law. The orientals sell me their overstock from their quick-counting over-farmed paddys. I gladly give it to them. My complacence will never built a nordic human tower.

I have never wanted to be a lawyer. I have never wanted to wake up and farm three hundred sixty days a year.

The halfrican-canadian had more stories, but they weren’t about me. They weren’t uplifting, they weren’t about me or anyone like me.

We are all mongrels, we have the wrong birthdates. We, and the others like myself simply stumble drunkenly between the shoulder standers, the suncrunchers and the weeping lawyers.

We buy our rice and bury it with water and drink the rotten juice.

Until the halfrican told me, i had no idea my birthdate was wrong.

Now i know, but don’t care.

He is an editor, really. A lovely job where you take other peoples ideas and give them pretty words. Its an effective job, thats how they wrote the bible.

There was a point to his musings, his well trimmed anecdotes, which all seemed to universally point to something. Vague pleasant whispers of unattainable sweetness: hope, change, access, opportunity. That self-made men come from a culture of success, and also had the right birthdate.

He ignores the crumbling nords, the jewish pornographers, the orientals covered in flaming jellied gasoline burned and buried under their paddys, as quick with math in death as in life.

Left behind is the club with the right birthday, but stilted minds, the whiskey laced vagrants who lie idly between the structures, senses too dulled to bother with the images drawn around them.

The ones who work their whole lives to be mediocre at living.

I got the book at the airport. It was better than the in-flight movie.

And the food.

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