Post #1670: Time for reflection and garbage collection.

 

It’s a brand new year.  But if you expect “… and new beginnings”, or “… and looking forward”, or some other such fluffy nonsense, you’ve come to the wrong website.

Instead, I’m focused on “garbage collection”, as used by computer programmers.  More-or-less, it means freeing up memory or storage space by getting rid of obsolete, archaic objects.

In practical terms, this post is a bit of navel-gazing prior to re-configuring this blog.  After doing a bit of manual garbage collection (tossing out draft and private posts, emptying the trash can) I am left with more than 1700 valid posts, stretching back four-and-a-half years.  Much of that is material that nobody could possibly want to read again.  It’s time for archiving the obsolete, restructuring the rest, and getting on with it.  This post is my way of figuring out what I have, and what to do with it.

It’s just a question of figuring out what to do.  And, as importantly, figuring out how to do it.

Perhaps tellingly, the Wikipedia article on garbage collection mentions roughly 35 distinct computer programming languages.  Of which, I am familiar with exactly one:  Beginners All-purpose Symbolic Instruction Code (BASIC).

Seeking out the obsolete and archaic?  Perhaps I need look no further than the mirror.

Source for title image:  Wikipedia, Janus.


Preamble:  I will cease to exist if you close this tab.

N.B.  Younger readers, if any,  may feel free to substitute “app” for “program” throughout this section.  “App” is short for “application”, which in turn is short for “applications programming”– the computer code that actually gets stuff done, stuff-wise, taking input from you, the “end user” — versus “systems programming”, the code that allows the computer/phone/gizmo/app to function, written by computer programmers.  In my book, writing the Excel program itself counts as systems programming, while using Excel to calculate something is applications programming. New-school, Excel is therefore “an app”.  And yes, the rest of the discussion will be every bit as clear as that was.

I am (or was) a data analyst, writing my own little old-school computer programs to draw information out of data.  When you see original data analysis on this website, that’s me, plugging away with Statistical Analysis System (SAS) programs.

It’s a job that demands “rigidly defined areas of doubt and uncertainty.”  (That, per the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.)  For any given task, I may be clueless about what’s actually happening in the real world, or how a particular set of data was created.  But I need to be as sure as possible that the computer program I’m using does exactly what I say its doing.

In the modern lingo, I am well-versed in “procedural” programming.  A  program consists of things that are very close to plain English sentences, showing what I’m doing to the underlying data.  Except for the arcana, anyone with a logical mind can look at programs of that sort and get the gist of what’s going on.

It’s not rocket surgery or brain science.  Even if you don’t program in SAS, you can probably figure out what I’m doing, below, literally a piece of the program that I currently use to analyze COVID-19 case data.  This, even if some of the arcana of SAS programming may strike you as a bit odd.

* this section fixes known anomalies in the data, usually when old cases are dumped in (negative adjustment) 
* or when duplicate cases are pulled out (positive adjustment), so that the adjusted data reflect the actual 
* ongoing flow of new cases ;

if state = "New Jersey" and date ge input("20210104",yymmdd8.) then do ; 
    cases = cases - 57652 ; 
end ;

* etc ;

Quaint, right?  It’s computer code designed to be read and understood by humans.  If you’re looking at the case counts from New Jersey, and the date is greater than or equal to January 4, 2021 (2021 01 04), subtract 57,652 cases.  (Because that’s the day they dumped that many old cases into their count data, producing a big spike in the numbers.)

This “procedural programming” mindset is an almost insurmountable handicap when it comes to understanding how a blog functions.  It’s just not how things are done any more.  I don’t think that internet programmers actually go out of their way to make the logic of their programming as indecipherable as possible.  But “indecipherable” pretty much sums it up.

By contrast to the above, here’s a little baby snippet of C++ code.  If I stare at it hard enough, I can eventually figure out what it does.  But I have to say, it’s not like they went out of their way to make it easy.

#include<iostream>
using namespace std;

int main()
{
    int num1, num2, add;
    cout<<"Enter Two Numbers: ";
    cin>>num1>>num2;
    add = num1+num2;
    cout<<"\nResult = "<<add;
    cout<<endl;
    return 0;
}

Source:  Codescracker.com.  This piece of code adds two numbers together, so it’s roughly analogous to, but somewhat simpler than, the SAS code above.

As a consequence, even though I have been writing computer programs for the majority of my lifetime, computer programming related to the internet (and to phones) leaves me baffled.  It’s a combination of things:  The odd argot to describe even basic concepts.  The emphasis on “user friendly” interfaces that hide the actual computing going on.  And what seems to be a never-ending competition to see which object-oriented language can write their operations in the most dense, opaque, and obscure fashion possible.

This is a serious handicap when the goal is to reorganize the roughly 1700 posts on this website.   I keep thinking up simple things that I’d like to do.  And I keep being completely stumped as to how to do them.

Worst, because I don’t really understand what’s going on, I take a guess as to how this website works, based on my “procedural programming” background.   I figure out how I’d do it, and more-or-less assume that’s how things work.  These guesses are invariably wrong.

As a result, more-or-less everything I assumed about how this blog actually functions has been incorrect.  That now matters quite a bit, as I try to re-organize 1700 blog posts.

Here’s my fundamental misunderstanding:  Where are my blog posts stored, on the server that hosts this blog?

Seems like a reasonable question.  The answer is: No.

I figured that if I had 1700 posts appearing here as 1700 pages, then, somewhere on this website, there must be 1700 readable files that contain those posts.  Because that makes sense to me.  Compile each post once, then display that on demand as any end-user wants to see any given post.  Therefore, logically, I ought to be able to find each post as a human-readable file.  Somewhere.  And it was just a question of figuring out where.

Or, even more simply, page:book :: post:blog.  Naively, if this blog is like a book, then I’m asking where the individual pages of that book are stored.  So that I may lay them all out in one place, look at them, and re-shuffle them to re-organize this blog.

But, as it turns out, that’s fundamentally wrong.  This post — what you’re reading right now — does not exist.  Not as any sort of file, on (say) a disk drive, on a computer.  Nothing that you could search for and read, natively, on the server for the host of this blog.

Instead, this post — the text you’re reading right now — exists only as a single, long, unreadable line in an SQL (structured query language) database.  (That’s what’s shown in the blue block, above, courtesy of reading my website backup files using an extremely old-school piece of software known as Vedit.)

That  — that ugly, unreadable unformatted bloc of crap above — that’s how my posts actually exist, in the real world.  They exist as entries in a database.  All 1700 of them.  The only practical way to extract the text of those posts is to query that database.  And, as far as I can tell, the software to allow me to analyze that content, so that I can reorganize it efficiently, simply does not exist.

Worse, the only readable blog pages are totally ephemeral.  They exist only as what WordPress compiles, on the fly, and presents to you on your screen.  You literally look at a unique copy, constructed in real time, just for you.

When you close this browser tab, this blog post will cease to exist.  In the sense that there will be no human-readable form of it, anywhere in the universe.  (Unless somebody else has a browser window open to this blog entry.)  The only permanent version of this blog post is that incomprehensible blue block of text above.

The screwy upshot is that many things I’d like to do to reconfigure this website — things that I figured ought to be easy, based on my old-school, “procedural” view of the world — are flatly impossible on a WordPress website like this one.  Because the things I’m looking for — my blog posts — don’t really exist.

It’s a whole new world out there, programming-wise.  And the more I know, the less I like it.

But on with the show.  Even if I can’t yet actually implement the changes I need,   I can still figure out what content I want to keep and toss.


Blog history 1:  MAC zoning, 2018-2020.  We won?

This blog began in 2018 as an act of desperation.  I was trying to organize opposition to a local zoning ordinance — so-called “MAC” zoning — in my home town of Vienna VA.

MAC zoning was repealed more than two years ago.  Repealed, in some part, thanks to the reams of analysis posted on this blog.  And to some well-designed yard signs, above.

A big chunk of what I did via this blog was simply to record what was said and done, and remind people of it, because otherwise they’d conveniently forget (Post #268).  That, and occasionally doing the calculations and measurements that the Town Council should have been doing (e.g., traffic noise adjacent to Maple Avenue).

The yard signs have long since been collected and recycled into raised garden beds (Post G05, June 2020). 

It’s time to do that for the hundreds of pieces of analysis that I posted on MAC zoning.  Except for the occasional piece that has relevance beyond that local ordinance, such as this post on acoustics.  And a handful of others that occasional get a hit.  In the main, I don’t think anyone could possibly care about a law that’s no longer on the books.

The only practical impact on this website is that I can greatly simplify the list of blog post categories.  If you try to search this blog by category, you’ll see a lot of seemingly useless stuff (e.g., “Building Height”).  All of that dates to the MAC era.  And all of that can be eliminated now.

I say “we won?” because after rescinding MAC zoning, the Town of Vienna immediately decided to redo all of the zoning regulations.  Complete overhaul.  Nothing was out of bounds.

But, as far as I can, there seems to be consensus to keep it small.  And the staff member who was arguably the driving force behind some of the crazier parts of MAC zoning (E.g., Marco-Polo-Gate) has since moved on.  So I’m not seeing a lot of value in keeping a close eye on this any more.

Verdict:  Garbage collection, with a few exceptions.  My plan, if I can implement it, is to write all those posts off to one large file (likely as a .pdf).  Then remove them from the website.  Then remove all the MAC-specific post categories from the website.


Blog history 2:  COVID, 2020 – 2022-ish.  We won?

Then, in the spring of 2020, along came COVID-19.  At some point, I decided to track and analyze it, because a) what else could I do and b) I’m a retired health economist will the programming and other skills sufficient for processing and interpreting disease-related data.

Early on, I think that had some real value-added.  That’s true mainly because, early on, the U.S. CDC dropped the ball regarding airborne transmission of COVID and the need for masking.  They denied that airborne transmission was real, despite overwhelming examples to the contrary.  They first said that masks were not required (social distancing only), despite the obvious failure of that policy.  Then switched to “cloth masks”, as if, at that point, there was still some risk that consumers might wipe out stocks of masks needed by health care providers.  (There was no risk — the retail channels had been wiped clean of N95s months beforehand.)

But the CDC eventually and grudgingly aligned itself with reality.  The vaccines came to fruition.  The absolutely horrendous initial case-mortality rate dropped to something a little less scary.

And we mostly just got on with our lives, plus or minus the million plus who died, the shocking reduction in U.S. life expectancy, the loss of in-person K-12 education time, the biggest increase in the national debt since WWII.  The hoarding, the shortages, the supply-chain issues, and the world-wide inflation.

And the nearly-endless bickering.  Let’s not forget that.

And the vaccine nuttiness and disinformation. Which I also must classify as literally endless, because it continues to this day.  No end in sight.

Latest from the CDC suggests that the folks who kept up with their vaccinations have a roughly 19-fold lower risk of dying.  To which, Florida responds:

Source:  CDC COVID data tracker, accessed 1/2/2023.

But, by and large, despite an ongoing 350 deaths and nearly 6000 hospitalizations per day for COVID (per the CDC COVID data tracker today), as a society, we’re over it.  Things have been stable for quite a while now.  And only about one eligible person in seven bothered to get the last dose of COVID vaccine.

Source:  CDC COVID data tracker, accessed 1/2/2023

Still, there may be a bit of value in continue to track this from time to time.  Lately, my sole value added has been in poo-poohing the notion of a “triple-demic”, and dismissing vague scare-mongering about a new winter wave of COVID.

Verdict:  Garbage collection of everything except for the last few posts.  At this point, I have about 900 posts on COVID on this website.  Which is a bit obsessive, as that works out to just about one per day that we’ve had COVID circulating in the U.S.  Keep COVID as a category, and maybe post every couple of weeks, if the data remain available.


Blog history 3:  Gardening: 2020 – ??.  The bugs won?

I started gardening during the pandemic, just as a way to have something to do.  Mostly, it started out as a way to get some exercise, because at that point, I believe gyms were shut down here in Virginia.

Arguably my most well-read gardening posts were the ones that tracked the canning lid shortage.  Because, at the end of the day, preserving food is part of the gardening process, for most of us.  More to the point, this was a serious problem for people who rely on home canning to provide a significant portion of their food, and it completely pissed me off that write-ups in the popular press treated it as some kind of a joke. So I took it seriously, and at one point had hundreds of hits per week on that topic.

Beyond that, it’s been more a case of testing various bits of garden advice you can find on the internet.  Much of which — surprise — turns out to be wrong.  It seems like a lot of gardening blogs repeat advice that they read, on other gardening blogs, without bothering to test it.  At the minimum, testing that advice rigorously satisfies my need to do the occasional bit of amateur science.

In addition, I spend some time explaining what I’m trying to do, and tracking how it goes.  I test equipment from time to time, such as pipe and such for irrigation.  Or Mason jars for frost protection.  And I think there’s some value added there.  And there aren’t a lot of posts.

Verdict:  No garbage collection, for now.  It’s not that many posts, and it’s only a couple of fairly discrete post categories.  Really, I ought to gather all that material into a small pamphlet, and be done with it.


Blog history four:  Ongoing:  The science and engineering section.

Every once in a while, when I can’t find a good answer to a question that’s bothering me, I’ll go ahead and test it myself, if possible (e.g., Post #1658)

Or when I see the need for some sort of helpful device, that I can’t find for purchase anywhere, I’ll gin something up (e.g., Post 1663).

And so on.  Just a potpourri of posts, whose sole link is that there’s some element of scientific method or engineering behind them.

Many of them have a very small, tightly defined audience. Such as this one, on making a floor-to-chair transfer device for paraplegics (Post #886).

The odd thing about these is that occasionally, out of the blue, I’ll get a lot of hits.  This has been true of my post on heated covers for outdoor faucets.  When the weather turns cold in early winter, I always seem to get a lot of hits on that one (Post #1412).

Verdict:  No garbage collection, for now.  No clue what to do with them, either, other than create a new post category for material of this type.


Blog History Five:  Other Town of Vienna material, ongoing.

I have more-or-less lost interest in posting about the Town of Vienna.  As I explained to a Town Council member a few months ago, it’s mostly that Town Council doesn’t get me nearly as angry now as they did in the past.

Arguably, I did quite a bit of good in the past, by (in effect) reporting on what was happening.

Mostly, when I started getting up to speed on MAC zoning, I noted that the Town often took months before posting any information whatsoever regarding what had taken place in various official Town meetings (e.g., Town Council meetings).  So I bought the biggest microphone I could carry, and started ostentatiously recording Town Council meetings and posting the recordings (with my index and commentary) the next day.  This apparently goaded the then-Mayor to get the official Town recording out before I did. To deny me the audience.

This has had the lasting effect of (at least) having recordings of most Town meetings, available in nearly-real time.  It’s still awkward, because the Town won’t let you download the recordings.  You have to view them through the Town’s approved interface.  And yet, with enough effort, interested citizens can pull those up in Chrome (not Firefox) and FF through them to find the information they want.  Whatever the shortcomings, it’s better than nothing.  Which is what we had before.

I still need to follow up on a few items.  The ongoing rezoning.  The coming train-wreck of Town elections (Post #1591).  But in terms of providing some sort of independent citizen oversight of what Town Council is up to, I’m just not up to the task.

Verdict:  Garbage collection, other than current topics.  I just don’t care enough any more to deal with it.


Conclusions?

There are plenty of other smaller categories to consider.  But I think this gives me some direction as to where I’m going with my blog reorganization.

Get rid of:

  • most of the old zoning-related material, and the associated categories.
  • pandemic-related posts, except those that are quite recent or have some abiding interest.
  • most material related specifically to the Town of Vienna

Keep:

  • a few posts on tracking COVID trends
  • science and engineering posts
  • gardening.

And I guess that’s where this blog is heading.

But keep in mind, as you read this post, that it doesn’t actually exist.  Per the discussion at the top of the post.

And that means that the biggest headache now finding any way to archive the older material, in bulk, in a readable format.  Arguably, I’ll be able to find some software to do that.  For sure, WordPress does not seem to have any native functions that will do that.

And once I’ve archived the old stuff in a form I’m comfortable with, I can concentrate on what comes next.

Post #1653: The life table as the cure for lucralgia.

 

As we approach the end of the year, I think about my final charitable donations for the year.

“Give all you have to the poor, and follow me.”  You can find that said, as the supposed words of Jesus,  in one form or the other, in the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke.

In fact, in the most radical interpretation of those various passages, one cannot follow Jesus unless one does that.  “Easier for the camel to pass through the eye of the needle, than for a rich man to enter heaven”.  And all that.

How nutso is that? 

I mean, just work out the literal implications of that for the modern U.S. suburbanite.

“Honey, I’m selling the house, the cars; liquidating the IRAs and the investment accounts; and giving all the proceeds to the church.  We and our children can live as beggars.  But it’s OK, we’ll get our reward in heaven.”

One might plausibly expect some negative feedback to that plan.  As in, I’d expect to be declared mentally incompetent if I tried to do that.  That’s how contrary to any sense of self-preservation or self-interest that particular piece of New Testament wisdom runs.  If you actually tried it, the courts would stop you, one way or the other.  For your own good.  Because no rational individual would do that.  They would assume you were nuts.

But is that necessarily true?


Lucralgia

When I was a much younger man, I made up the term “lucralgia” to describe something I felt from time to time.  It’s a portmanteau of lucre (money), and -algia (pain).

It’s that special pain you feel when giving away a significant sum of money.  It’s the “hurts” in “give ’til it hurts”.  I suspect that each person’s sense of lucralgia sets an upper limit on their charity, barring those who literally follow the rules of their church (e.g., literal tithing).  You can only stand to give but so much.

I’ve always felt inadequate, somehow, in my philanthropy.  You’re supposed to feel cheerful and upbeat about all the good your doing by contributing to worthy charities.  All those babies saved, trees hugged, and whatnot.

But all I ever felt was a vague sense of duty.  And lucralgia.  That ache behind your solar plexus when you do your duty and sign a bunch of checks to worthy charities.

No joy.


The life table.

Those of us in the business know it.  Actuaries.  Health economists.

For the rest of you, find your line.  Then read ’em and weep.  This is an excerpt from the 2020 U.S life table, showing how likely it is that, all other things equal, 100,000 Americans will live past a certain age.

Source:  CDC


The life table as the cure for lucralgia, or the rewards for a lifetime of hard work.

Here in the U.S.A., if you work hard, succeed financially, invest with wisdom, and live modestly, and generally are lucky enough to have all suns shine, you will eventually be rewarded with the epiphany that you will die before you can spend all of your money.

I am one of the fortunate ones who has met the criteria.

Perhaps less fortunately, I figured this out, for myself, a few years back.  Maybe  it’s because I am a health economist, working mainly with Medicare data.  But I was completely familiar with the life table.  And when I slapped that up against an estimate of expected financial returns — that’s when I retired.

The truly weird thing about that is that once you reach that realization, then, rationally, as long as you place little or no value on passing your money on to your kids, then the value of money is zero.

If the checking account balance is going to be massively positive on date-of-death, then, what’s the value of another $1000 more or less?  It’s zero. 

You can’t take it with you.


An aside for my favorite economist-religous joke.

Old Mr. McGill is getting on in years.  He’s exceptionally well-to-do, but never married and has no close relatives.  All throughout his life, he’s donated millions to the Church.  But all he has now, in life, is his fortune.

So he asks the parish priest if he can take his fortune with him when he dies.  And he gets the stock answer, no, you can’t take it with you.

Not satisfied, he kicks it up the Church hierarchy, based on his history of massive charity toward the Church.  At some point, the Pope Himself communes with God.  And, lo and behold, in this one case, God will make an exception.  The decision comes down.  Mr. McGill can take it with him.

Overjoyed, Mr. McGill starts liquidating his assets, converting everything to gold bars and stacking them in a big aluminum suitcase.  Block upon block of the precious metal.  And, as is so often the case, as he almost got that suitcase filled, he suffered a massive stroke and died.

And there he went, suitcase in hand, off to heaven.

St. Peter met him at the gate, took one look at Mr. McGill and his suitcase, and said, “Nope, you know the rules.  You can’t take it with you.”

To which Mr. McGill replied, “There’s an exception in my case”.

St. Peter promptly conferred with God, found out that this was true, opened up the Pearly Gates, and waved Mr. McGill into heaven.

“But,”, said St. Peter, “I have to know.   What was so important that you couldn’t leave it back on Earth, but had to drag it with you to Heaven?”

And McGill gets a big smile on his face, places his suitcase down, and opens it up to display the contents.

Said St. Peter, incredulously:  “You brought pavement?”


Lucralgia no more

My point is that, if you get old enough, and have enough, it’s all just so much pavement.

As a consequence, what hurt badly as a young man doesn’t sting any more.  Inverse Widow’s Mite, I guess, as long as I’m in New Testament mode.  I’ve found the solution for lucralgia.  Or it has found me.

Weirdly, I’m still as cheap as ever.  All those habits of thrift, ingrained over a lifetime, continue to function.

But when it comes to writing those checks at the end of the year, it’s just not the painful chore it once was.  I still find no joy in it.  It’s just something that needs to be done.  But I no longer have to fight down that pain as I sign my name.  It’s just another chunk of pavement.

Post #1648: Perhaps I’ve done a bit too much on-line shopping of late.

 

Once upon a midnight dreary, as I sat alone with Siri,
Christmas presents still to purchase, Cyber Monday deals to score,
     There perched I with nerves now snapping,
     packages in need of wrapping,
Gifts awaiting Christmas trappings, overlapping on the floor.
“Tis the season” grumbled I, “all glory that there isn’t more.”
Else I’d never find the floor.

Ah, so vaguely I’d remember, items ordered mid-November
As a Costco member, now were squatting glumly by the door.
     Eagerly I wished the morrow;—
     vainly I had sought to borrow
From my charge-cards I might borrow happiness from days of yore,
For the spirit of the season urges buying more and more,
Overnighted to my door.

Then my mind seized on the burden, gaze ashamèdly averting
From the pile of acquisitions spilt across my kitchen floor.
     So that now, bank-balance bleeding,
    poverty I’ll soon be pleading,
To my creditors unheeding I shall pay forevermore.
Bankruptcy shall be proceeding, that is where my life is borne.
Christmas spendthrift to the core.

Presently a doorbell-ringer forced me not to longer linger,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
     Packages they need a-wrapping,
     creditors may come knee-capping,
Sorrows I was now recapping, yapping as I crossed the floor.
“Wouldst thou stay, converse a moment?” —here I opened wide the door;—
Packages and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams of Fridays Black no shopper dreamt before;
     Etsy with their goods bespoken?
     Hoping nothing had been broken,
And my only thought unspoken was that I would buy no more!
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the words, “Oh, sure”—
This I heard, and nothing more.

Dragging boxes undiscerning, sinews of my back now burning,
Soon, again, I heard a tintinnabulation as before.
    “Mayhap”, said I, “Barnes and Noble?”,
    breaking from my trance immobile,
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Lamentation to dispel with caissons bearing lit’rature?—
‘Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Motionless amidst the clutter, gazing outward toward the gutter,
Up now stepped a stately Postman, clothed in blue to reassure;
     Not the least obeisance made he;
     not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with bureaucratic mien of those who serve whom they abhor,
No kindness shone, nor outright malice, standing at my entry door.
“Sign”, spake he, and nothing more.

Then amidst my sad stockpiling, could not help myself reviling,
Poker face and postal uniform that he so blandly bore.
     “You, man, are a public servant,
     surely you must be observant,
Tell me what the sender’s name is ere I sign my name once more.
Alibaba? Ebay? Target? Amazonians galore?”
“Matters not, you will buy more.”

Much I marveled this ungainly fellow to discourse so plainly,
Answer so offensive, ‘neath my breath I sotto voce swore;
     Yet amid this Christmas season,
     no soul capable of reason
Could deny the reasonableness of his prophecy of more.
Flesh or spirit, care not I, deliver boxes by the score!
“Sign”, saith he, and nothing more.

For the Postman, standing lonely at the threshold, he spoke only
That one phrase, as if his world admitted but that single chore.
     With his mail-sack then he puttered,
     not a further word he muttered.
Thought I — might I utter phrasing, solely him to reassure?
“U.S.P.S. is my fav’rite, other shippers I deplore.”
Saith the Postman, “oh, for sure”.

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “The Post Office badly lacks esprit-de-corps.”
     Doubtless the Postmaster General
     glories in this true disaster
Of a workforce who no faster than a snail our burdens bore—
Till the packages we wait for — are but ghosts on Lethe’s shore.
Post December 24.

Ignore now this Postman’s riling, other places call beguiling,
Best Buy, Zappos, Wayfair, Walmart, to me now these all implore.
     Time is wasting, I was thinking,
     Christmas is upon us sinking.
Shopping days are shrinking, slinking past the deadlines I abhor.
Mystery of kraft-wrapped beauty, parcel that I so adore!
Sign for it, then order more.

Signed I now without obsessing, gave me now his Postal blessing,
Knowing not the sender, tossed the package by the kitchen door.
     Turning now to be about
     his still-unfinished postal routing,
Humming dirges that his doubting melancholy burden bore.
Leaving, he could not restrain from off’ring up one parting score:
“I’ll return, you shall buy more.”

Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if man or devil!—
How payest I for all these goods that you deliver to my door?
     Christmas spending goes undaunted,
     in my home by lenders haunted,
Driven to me by my lack of lucre for the deals I score.
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the Postman, “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, friend or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—
“Get ye gone onto your route and bring me goods o nevermore”.
     Leave no package as a token
     of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my poverty unbroken!—mat of welcome step no more.
Take thy bag from off my stoop, and take thy form from out my door!”
Quoth the Postman “Nevermore.”

Source:  (c) 2022, Christopher Hogan, with considerable theft from Edgar Allan Poe.

Post #1645: Swearing off angertainment for the new year.

 

A recent Washington Post opinion piece used the term “angertainment” to describe the antics and publicity stunts that seem to be the meat-and-potatoes of  Republican politics these days.

The case at hand was the narrow victory by Representative Boebert of Colorado.  While she is particularly noted for inflammatory stunts, I’m sure we can all recall other examples.  You might recall local political ads suggesting that a candidate planned to hunt down and kill Democrats.  On the national scene, surely you remember statements encouraging violence against the vice-president.  Or maybe it’s just a case of using taxpayer funds from one state, to fly asylum-seekers between two other states.  Because, why not?

That Post opinion piece offered two general descriptions of “angertainment”.  It’s “… an approach to governing that mistakes “owning the libs” for getting things done for constituents.”  Alternatively, it’s behavior specifically chosen to elicit news coverage along the lines of “You won’t believe what this GOP candidate is saying or doing!”

I guess I’d characterize it maintaining political power by appealing to the mob’s anger, rather than actually trying to solve any problems or address issues.

But as I was reading through yet a different Post article — this time on beach erosion in Florida — it occurred to me that the comments sections on most Washington Post articles are themselves nothing but angertainment.  Person after anonymous person, spewing venom and expressing their hatred for fill-in-the-blank.

So I made a comment to that effect.  In the angertainment opinion piece.  As politely as I could.  And was immediately flamed, called names, told I was an agent of Trump, and so on.

Thus more-or-less immediately proving my point.

I think I had a little epiphany, after that.  And after reading through the comments on a story about beach erosion in Florida.  In a nutshell, the U.S is going to lose a huge swath of coastal land as a result of climate change, with all the hardship, displacement, and loss that implies.  And 99 percent of the comments boiled down to “Florida sucks, and they deserve it”.

After reflecting on that a bit, I’ve decided that I’m just not going to read comments sections any more.  I’ll read what the professional journalists write.   And skip the amateur bile.  No matter how entertaining it might be to get all stoked up on the anger expressed.

For newspapers where comments are heavily moderated — such as the New York Times — there is still some climate of reason in the comments sections.  And the comments there are frequently worth reading.

But in the Washington Post — and, frankly, almost everywhere else — the comments sections really seems to be in a race to the bottom.   Just a bunch of angry people, who got stirred up by the newspaper article, and who feel the need to mouth off.

So I’m just not going to go there.  Surely, even in retirement, I can find a better use for my time.

Post #1602: Legal radio use!

Source:  Fandom.com

Police scanner! This post is notes to myself on the quick and easy way to get a modern police scanner functioning.  It boils down to:

  • Ignore the directions.
  • Buy the software.
  • Buy the data.

Am I really that dumb?

Source:  Fandom.com

In my quest to Get Rid of Stuff, I’m now working through a lot of old electronics, including a bunch of different radios.  Most of it, I knew what to do with, or the stuff was good enough that I could easily give it away.

And then there was my police scanner.  This is a Radio Shack Pro-197 digital trunking scanner.

I bought this years ago — I’m guessing mid-2000s — for reasons that escape me.

All I recall about it is that:

  1. I paid a lot of money for this, years ago.
  2. I never could figure out how to get the damned thing to work.

I figured it would be like a short-wave radio.  Plug it in, turn it on, turn the dial.

Boy, was that wrong.  And welcome to the world of Object Oriented Scanning.  Where everything is an object.  And nothing makes sense.

Realize that I spent my professional career writing complex computer programs. Yet I couldn’t make head or tail out of Object Oriented Scanning.  I won’t go into how absolutely useless the user manual is.  Except to note that it’s so awful that somebody took the time to rewrite the entire manual into a more readable form.   And even that went over my head.

Moreover, my usual approach of turn it on, push the buttons, see what happens, yielded more-or-less nothing.  All the elements appeared to be in place — frequencies, system types, all that jazz needed to define the modern communications object.   All that was missing was noises coming out of the speaker.

Nor was I alone in this.  You can look at internet chatter and see that many, many people were baffled by the brave new world of Object Oriented Scanning.

In any case, after years of occasionally trying (and failing) to get this to work, I finally cracked the code.  So I thought I would share it.  All I had to do was:

  1. Ignore absolutely all the bafflegab about Objects, Trunks, Talkgroups, and so on, in the user manual.
  2. Realize that all of the frequency (etc.) information that came pre-loaded on the radio was wrong/obsolete.
  3. Buy the software, hardware, and data access to replace the incorrect frequency information with the correct data.
  4. Now it works like a charm.

I suspect that a big part of the problem is that I really needed the software and the (hardware) data transfer cable from the get-go.  But Radio Shack provided neither of them.  It is possible, in theory, to program that information in manually.  But it’s a lot easier just to buy and use the right software.


The quick guide

These folks will sell you the PC software, for about $40.  They have a one-time free trial, which for Radio Shack radios is at this reference.  I believe that’s all Windows only.

If you want to use this more than once — say, take another crack at downloading the information that lets you listen to your local public service providers, or download different types of radio networks  — you’ll need to subscribe to the RadioReference database, for about another $20 for six months. 

If your radio is like mine, you’ll need a cable to connect your PC’s USB port to the input jack on your radio, which, archaically, uses a headphone jack instead of a USB port.  Mine, I bought years ago from Radio Shack.  For your radio, you’ll want to look on your manufacturer’s website.  Mine was so old it was very old-school in term of manually loading the drivers and all that.

Using the software on the PC, look up the information for your state and county.  Say, for trunked systems, which is going to cover most urban police forces.  Download it off the RadioReference database.  Edit it, if you must.

Then, turn on your radio, plug in the cable, and download all that correct and current information to your radio.  Instructions for the radio side of this were nonexistent.  That’s because, near as I can tell, when you plug in the cable, with the radio turned on, the radio stands by to download the information.  The computer software controls the download.

At the end of which, all that information is in your radio’s active memory.

Then, to be safe, you should save that information to a permanent file in your radio’s memory.  For the Radio Shack model, these permanent files are termed V-scanner folders.  The radio comes with 21 of them, and you should just think of them like awkward Windows folders.  On my radio, you access that via Function – Program.  Pick a folder, and save the current memory to that folder.

You’re done.

Hit “scan”, and the radio will scan all the systems that you just downloaded.  In my case, every trunked pubic provider system in Fairfax County.

I suppose there’s a software method to limit that search to just a subset, but with 20 more V-folders available, if I want to do that, I’ll just edit the list and load that into another V-folder.  If I want to restrict to that subset, I’ll load the contents of that edited list — from the V-folder to active memory — and use that.

Anyway, for the first time since I bought this close to two decades ago, it works as advertised.  Nothing wrong with the hardware.  Major issues with the input data.

And, I guess, operator ignorance.  Funny thing is, I’m still ignorant — I have no clue how this actually works.  But now, at least, it does work.

Post #1601, illegal radio use!

 

Those of you who just got done tossing all your 3G phones may get a kick out of this.  Or maybe not.

Today I applied for and was granted an FCC license to operate GMRS (General Mobile Radio Service) equipment.

For just 35 bucks, I may now legally operate a GMRS radio.  The license is good for ten years.

But wait, there’s more!  The FCC tosses in licensure of my immediate family members, for free.

Such a deal!

There were only two qualifications:

  1. I could not be a convicted felon.
  2. I had to be dumb enough to think I needed a license for a toy walkie-talkie.

This post is mostly a note to myself, so I can keep straight everything I think I just learned about some of the radios that you, as Joe or Jane Citizen, can buy and use for short-range communications.  Unsurprisingly, I guess, that world has changed substantially over the past five years or so.  Owing, in large part to a 2017 revamp of the FCC rules covering those devices.

The main surprise is that these radios keep getting better.  Even in the age of cell phones.

To be clear, your kid’s Buzz Lightyear walkie-talkies don’t need a license.  Not now.  But, weirdly, until 2017, technically speaking, they actually did.  As evidenced by the ancient manual for the Motorola toy radios that I bought for my kids years ago, shown at the top of this posting.

I’m guessing the number of FCC seizures of unlicensed Buzz Lightyears was pretty small.

In any case, here’s the story behind my newly-minted radio operator’s license.  And everything I just learned about CB, FRS, GMRS, and other citizen two-way radios.

 


Background:  Swedish Death Cleaning

I’m going through an extended period of GRS (Getting Rid of Stuff, to keep it family-friendly).  My version of SDC.  It’s a long-overdue thinning out of 30 years’ accumulation of stuff that I don’t need, but is too good to throw away. 

Much of the volume of material is the result of those twin evils, Cheaper if Bought in Bulk and Free Shipping.  There’s a reason my wife revoked my Costco membership.

But in other cases, I own perfectly functional items that I no longer have a use for.  Sometimes I can recall why I bought a particular item, and the memory sparks joy.  But most of the time, it’s more a case of “What was I thinking?”.

Luckily, for most of my stuff, even if I have no use for it, somebody else does.

This week’s task was electronics.   Not computers — I dealt with my computers last year.  This is mostly radios, cameras, WiFi extenders, weather monitors, adapters, cables, and similar assorted other electronic junk.

Mostly, radios — lots and lots of radios.


Breaker 1-9.

Amongst which was a perfectly useful Citizen’s Band (CB) radio.  (Which, believe or not, has been officially re-designated by the FCC as “CB radio”.  So “CB” is no longer an abbreviation for anything.)

Worse, it was a virtually brand-new radio.  I bought it years ago, for a family vacation to Florida, thinking I’d use it to assess traffic conditions on the road.  And otherwise pass the time on I-95.  Only to find out that almost nobody uses CB any more.  Not even truckers.  Drove the length of I-95 and didn’t hear a peep.

 


But it’s not your grandfather’s CB any more

I found a good home for that particular unit.  So that’s a happy ending.  As part of the process, I decided to see what was going on in the world of CB.  And that led to something of a surprise: CB FM?

I knew that CB had been around, with only minor modifications, for decades.  It was first authorized by the FCC in 1958.  The number of channels was increased to 40 in 1977.  The use of some channels was restricted (e.g., channel 9 is used for emergencies).  There was, at one time, a requirement that you have a license and call sign, just like ham radio.  That was eventually dropped after people routinely ignored that requirement during the 1970’s CB craze.   (All of that information comes from Wikipedia.)

The point is that, aside from a few legal changes, and the increase in the number of channels, the technical specifications for CB remained virtually unchanged until very recently.  Other than SSB (below), until recently, I believe that every CB radio ever made for the U.S. market, since its inception in 1958, could communicate with every other CB radio.  Which meant that if a bunch of people wanted to communicate, and they all had “a CB radio”, then all that equipment would play nicely together.

The only technical innovation (or equipment incompatibility) was the gradual addition of single-sideband (SSB) transmission, in addition to standard AM.  Even with that, I believe that every SSB unit sold is also capable of broadcasting and receiving standard AM signals.  Without going into detail, you need specialized equipment to translate SSB into intelligible speech.  If you only have a standard AM receiver, SSB transmissions sound like a cross between Donald Duck and voice synthesizer.  You can tell that somebody is talking, because it has the pattern of human speech.  But you can’t make out a word.  (It’s downright creepy to hear somebody laughing in an SSB transmission heard on a non-SSB radio.) If you ever tune in to ham radio bands, and hear something that sounds like speech, but isn’t, that’s probably SSB.

 But, to be clear, CB uses AM transmission, and AM radio isn’t “nice”.  It’s static-y, for want of a better term.  And the weaker the signal, the worse the sound.

But in July of 2021, the FCC approved use of FM transmissions on CB channels.  The radios themselves have to be capable of both FM and AM, so they are backward-compatible with the original standard.  But they will allow individuals who purchase new, FM-capable CBs to communicate using a far less static-prone FM signal.

Based on the reviews on Amazon, the resulting voice communications are a lot cleaner and a lot easier to listen to.  Judging by the price, you more-or-less get the FM option for free.  Give it another couple of years, and I’d bet that, with the possible exception of those who require the additional range offered by SSB, you won’t find a unit offered that doesn’t have FM.

So, weirdly enough, 67 years after the standards were first established, in a country where everybody has a cell phone, you can now get these niche-market radios with an FM option.  That, along with the general improvement in electronics in general, means that you can now get a CB that has pretty good (or at least, non-annoying) sound quality.  And yet, by law, every CB radio can still communicate with every other CB radio, using the original AM standard.

Who would have guessed that in the era of the cell phone, CB could still evolve?


FRS, GMRS, kids’ walkie-talkies, and the risks of believing what you read on the internet.

As part of this process I exhumed three old kids’ walkie-talkies.  Probably bought them in the early 2000s.

They still work, and they are occasionally useful things to have around.  So I looked into getting them up and running again, starting with the users’ manual.

To my horror, I discovered that these “toys” required an FCC license for legal use.  The users’ manual said so, with zero ambiguity.  Using these “toys” without a license risked fines, imprisonment, and confiscation of equipment.  All that time, I thought I was just having a good time with my kids.  And the FCC could have come gunning for me at any moment.

But that didn’t quite make sense.  These things look like toys.  We used them as toys.  And the only other people we ever heard, through these radios, were clearly kids.  Using them as toys.  Yet, there was the manual, straight from the manufacturer.  FCC license required, under penalty of law.

I looked around and found numerous seemingly-well-informed internet sites that said — again unambiguously — that any device capable of broadcasting on these channels requires an FCC license.  In particular, use of any 22-channel walkie-talkie absolutely required an FCC license.

Seemed kind of silly, but $3.50 per year seemed like a small price to pay for staying on the right side of the law. So I got a license.

But, at some level, who’s kidding whom?  I could go on Amazon and see 22-channel walkie-talkies that were obviously made to be toys.  Barbie walkie-talkies.  Buzz Lightyear walkie talkies.  Hello Kitty walkie-talkies.  There’s no way that the FCC is going to confiscate a kid’s Buzz Lightyear walkie-talkie for lack of the appropriate license.

And, as it turns out, that license requirement was the law, when my walkie-talkies were made.  But what most internet sites failed to mention is that the law was changed in 2017.  As with CB above, this market continues to evolve, and the law is evolving with it.

Not only do those little half-watt toy walkie-talkies require no license, but you can now buy and use the 2-watt versions without a license.  Anything more powerful than that requires an FCC license for legal use.

You see a lot of stuff about this that comes across as just so much gibberish.  So let me try to distill the current law.  Without resorting to any of the arcane language that we have inherited from prior law and regulation.

Family Radio Service (FRS) and General Mobile Radio Service (GMRS) are two FCC-authorized radio communications options intended to be used for short-distance, low-power communication.  Once upon a time FRS consisted of just a handful of channels, restricted to very-low-power (half-watt) transmission.  And GMRS encompassed a larger set of channels, and allowed mostly higher transmitting power (and allowed the use of remote antennas).

To cut to the chase:

Any device with a fixed (attached) antenna, capable of broadcasting at no more than two watts power, can use all 22 channels found on your standard kids’ walkie-talkie.  No license required.

For want of a better term (and possibly even technically correct), I’ll call those devices FRS radios.  Functionally, FRS no longer applies to a restricted set of channels, it applies to the limits on power and use of external antennas of any 22-channel walkie-talkie.  (There may still be a lower power limit on the original FRS channels, but the device itself will automatically take care of that.)

Any more power than that, or if you want to use a remote antenna or repeater, and you need a GMRS license from the FCC.   GMRS base units can operate at up to 50 watts, with reductions required around the subset of channels that was the original FRS channels.  The law also added new “interstitial” channels that presumably would be available to newly-manufactured GMRS radios.

My recollection is that my kids’ walkie-talkies worked exceptionally well.  Certainly had far better range that I would have imagined.  Now I can operate them legally without a license.  And I should be able to get license-free two-watt walkie-talkies with even better range.

Most importantly, all of that equipment will play nicely together.  The two-decade-old units and any modern counterparts.

That said, manufacturers have complicated the situation with use of various “privacy code” standards.  (See this reference).  But the bottom line is that if you turn that off, every FRS/GMRS walkie-talkie or base station can talk to every other one.  Still.  Newer ones will have access to a few more channels.  But that’s the full extent of incompatibility.  My old units are weaker than is now allowed by law.  But they remain usable, decades after they were manufactured.

Post #1569: When the Rapture comes, will fetuses count as part of the 144,000?

Purely as a matter of probability, when the Rapture comes, at least one of the 144,000 will be pregnant. Unless pregnancy at the time of the Rapture automatically bars you from heaven.  Which would have to be God’s Own Catch-22, given the number of religions that frown on birth control. Continue reading Post #1569: When the Rapture comes, will fetuses count as part of the 144,000?

Post #1550: A recent Washington Post article on research about food.

There was an article in the Washington Post yesterday, Diet soda is fine, and 3 other food truths it’s time you believed, by Tamar Haspel.

I believe it’s the first and only time I’ve seen the phrase “observational study” in a popular press article.  I was so impressed I wrote a lengthy comment.

Which, because I have nothing better to blog about today, I’m reproducing below.  Obviously, you should at least skim the article if you want to make sense of the comment.


On your first point, this is also the reason poor people eat a poor diet. Try planning a month’s worth of meals at the current SNAP limit of $194 a month. You — like poor people everywhere — will find yourself loading up on starch, sugar, and fat, and skipping the fruits and vegetables. Rice at $0.60/lb provides about twenty times as many calories per dollar as apples at $2/lb.

(Highest calories/dollar among grocery-store items? Vegetable oil. Fried food, anybody?)

Second, bless you for using the phrase “observational study” in a news article. I was a health economist by trade, and if there were one little bit of understanding that I wish I could spread, it’s that not all “science” is created equal. Randomized controlled trials sit at the top of the heap, in terms of their strength of inference. Observational studies sit at the bottom. (“Natural experiments” of various sorts sit in-between).

Whenever you see the results of a study, the first thing to ask is whether or not it was a randomized trial. Hint: Almost no studies of diet are randomized trials. And if not, then is there a plausible alternative explanation of the facts, e.g., fat people drink diet soda, instead of diet soda makes you fat?

Finally, I note the absolutely toxic interaction between the frequently false and counterintuitive “findings” of observational studies, and the modern media’s thirst for click-bait. This virtually guarantees that every oddball and counterintuitive (and wrong) conclusion by every half-baked academic researcher will be hyped. And that any actual science — which by-and-large tends to show boring things, e.g., weight loss is all about restricting calorie intake — gets buried under an avalanche of pseudoscientific nonsense.

Post #1318: IED

 

I enjoy crossword puzzles.  And I’m not ashamed to admit it.

My puzzle habit was formed during ten years of daily commuting from the suburbs to downtown Washington DC, via DC’s Metro system.  Now, after more than three decades of puzzle-solving, I have an appreciation for the subtle science and exact art of crossword-puzzle making.

Filling in a hard crossword puzzles requires an odd assortment of skills.  It becomes roughly equal parts of:

  • Knowing the structure of language (e.g., plurals usually end in “s”).
  • Straight-up trivia (e.g., Pierre is the capital of South Dakota).
  • Current pop culture (e.g., Grammy winners).
  • Older pop culture.
  • A good sense for puns, alternative word meanings, and the like.

Much of it has a unique crossword-puzzle slant, owing to a chronic need for vowels.  For example, ONO (Yoko), ARLO (Guthrie), OCALA (Florida) all appear in crosswords far out of proportion to their importance in the real world.  As do the many, many vowel-rich four-letter rivers of Europe (e.g., ODER, YSER, URAL, ARAL, AARE, …) .

The popular-culture aspects of crossword puzzles typically don’t age well.  It’s hard to pick up a 20-year-old book of difficult crossword puzzles and fill them in.  The world has moved on.  Pop-culture names and terms familiar to every well-read reader in 2001 are seldom on the top of the tongue two decades later.

That said, they are never truly current, either.  It takes a while for any new pop-culture phenomenon or phrase to work its way into the day’s crossword puzzles.  So what you really get in crosswords is pop culture with a lag.

Which brings me to IED.  That was in a puzzle I worked yesterday, with the clue “hazard to troops”.  It was, in that sense, a perfect crossword puzzle word.  Lots of vowels, and a term that every U.S. resident would have absorbed over the past couple of decades.

But IEDs haven’t been in the news of late.  Which is a good thing.  And I can only hope that this clue and answer will be completely mystifying to some puzzle-solver a couple of decades from now.

My point being that sometimes the news ought to be about what hasn’t happened recently.  We ought to see a great big headline stating that “No American troops died in Afghanistan over the past two months”.  Or that we failed to spend $20B propping up a corrupt and unpopular government over that same time span.

But that sort of obvious good news just isn’t what the popular press is all about.  Too many other things that are better click-bait.  U.S. casualties that didn’t occur are the sort of thing that will only sink into our collective consciousness a decade or two from now.  If then.

Meanwhile, I’ll continue to enjoy the absence of the IED from our popular press.  Even if that word is still in crossword puzzles, for the time being.